#silent night ode

[sunfish999]

Recent ln stylings with all the new event pieces 😋

#love nikki #ln #shining nikki #love nikki dress up queen #lnduq #hell event #story suit #night prayers #ashen chant #silent night ode

[honeyshiddendesire]

He’s So Mean 🥵

Warnings: rough sex! Vaginal sex! Praise & Degradation! Choking! Oral sex!(m)! Daddy Kink! Dom/Sub! Chokehold! Doggy style! Rough oral(m)! Huge Size difference!!! Obviously unrealistic but oh well!!

18+ Minors Do Not Enter !! 18+

Summary: Thinking of the Meanies of One Piece 🤭🥵😮‍💨🤤🥴 might be self indulgent who knows lol 🤭

Characters : Zoro! Eustass! Doflamingo! Akainu! Sir Crocodile! Smoker! Law! Whitebeard! Katakuri! X Female! Reader

*New Author's Note: Copied from my previous blog! I love when I find my old works!! Thank you to everyone who reblogged all my old stuff cause I love finding it all !! Thought I was gonna have to rewrite this whole thing again lol so I'm super happy that I found it *

Zoro ⚔️ & Eustass 💀

The ones that have you in a head lock as you sit on their cock, their lips nipping your ear as they give you brutal encouragement.

“Love fucking this pretty cunt you got!” His voice growling in your ear making your cunt drool even more. Juices dripping down your folds to land on his heavy balls. “Sloppy ass pussy.” He groans nipping at the lobe while you whine with watery eyes.

Lips sucking under your ear softly were a total contrast to his tight hold, your gelled nails clawing at his iron grip. “Even this cunt knows who the fuck it belongs to huh?”

“Y-yes~!” The position he had you in was tight but not as tight as the way your walls held onto his massive cock. “Uh! Puh~lease~!” The appendage hitting deeper than you ever thought possible, making you choke out whimpers. “S-so go~od~!”

“Damn right my dick is good.” He’d laugh with a wide grin pressing against the side of your face making you whine in the back of your throat. “But your pussy ain’t so bad either.”

“Fu~ckme~!” You sobbed out in bliss at the feel of his muscled legs pumping up into your sopping heat. The sounds your soaked cunt made were embarrassing to your ears but silently you loved it. You couldn’t believe how wet he was making you.

“Already am. Ha! Look~I fucked you silly!” He barked out a laugh before clicking his teeth, “Awe so cute baby~” He tauntingly cooed, making your eyes roll back thigh’s quivering. Both cumming so deeply to the vicious taunts and your wet walls.

Doflamingo 🦩 & Akainu 🌋

Or the ones that give the meanest back shots. Ass so far up in the air with your hair pulled in a makeshift ponytail due to the tight grip of their fists pulling.

“Fucking whore.” He says through gritted teeth as his other arm is pinning your arms behind your back holding you in place.

Rough lips leaving harsh love bites against your neck. “You’d better take every inch.” His voice raspy as his cock bullies your cervix like no tomorrow. “Oooh fuck~” You’d whimper cutely when he’d lift your head up so he could look at you.

Loving the way your mouth hung open with drool hanging sloppily like the fucked out whore he wanted you to be. “Perfect.”

That’s the face he loved to see when he came but not yet- no, he never rushed. So fucking your gooey walls deeper and harder, he kept up his pace. Your ass rippling with each pound of his strong hips, your body screaming at the weight of him on top of you.

Caging you in like a tower of strength that he used to split your pussy open. “Making such a mess. You dirty slut just look at you. Ugh~ It’s incredible.”

“Cumming~!” You’d whimper making him laugh as he’d tug on you hair harder. Biting at your lower lip making you hiss before he gave a devious grin.

“Who said you could?” The laugh he’d give seeing your pout was bone chilling yet it made your pussy flutter with desire.

Wetness pooling out making you moan and scream even more, his cock punching your stomach so sweetly. He was a cruel man but he left you a trembling puddle underneath him.

Body bruised and ass red at the end of the night but it was worth it every single time when you heard the whisper to you, “Rest love.”

Sir Crocodile 🐊, Law & Smoker 💨

What about those scowling meanies that are actually complete teases playing daddy behind closed doors.

Grumpy pout or stoic expression completely erased and switched to something of total mischief. Lips spilling out sweet praise as he pressed your legs to your chest, the strokes were ridiculously deep but torturously slow.

Gasping and begging for more you lay underneath them, back bent so far your ankles we’re practically by your ears. “Daddy~” You’d whimper for the first time with tears leaking from your equally shocked eyes.

“What was that?” He’d taunt you, making you bit your lip, hands coming to cover your face in embarrassment.

With quick reflexes though he’d quickly pin them above your head. “Hey princess~” He would coo back looking down with a wide grin that had you clench his cock tighter. “Oh don’t be like that. Come on-Shit! Say it again, doll.” He would groan out and to most it sounded like a beg but it was far from it.

Using his other hand to rub insanely fast at your sensitive nub causing your legs to shake, “Uh! Fuck! Oh -fuckyes-! Daddy~!” Your screams were stolen from your throat by the feral assault his fingers were committing. It made you dizzy and fall in love, going cock drunk with each deep stroke.

“That’s my pretty girl. Takin’ daddy’s dick so good~” He’d moan as his eyes drifted down to the sweet cream your pussy was dripping out for him. Collecting some on his thumb to rub faster on your swollen clit.

“Look at your cunt swallowing me whole.” Hips suddenly taking on a more frenzied speed at the gooey contraction your walls were making. Milking his lengthy cock that had you whimpering and panting for air.

Eyes glazed with the sight of your tight walls sucking him in, knees to your chest squishing your jiggly breasts together. “Fuck sweetheart you take daddy so fucking well.”

“Ah! It’s s-so big~fuck~!” You whine trying to look in his eyes but fail as your eyes roll back with a loud moan. “Yeah I know you can handle it though.”

“Right there daddy! Pleasepleaseplease~daddy!” You’d babble with broken moans and screams making him chuckle.

“Daddy’s girl likes it right there huh?”  He’d smirk as he’d lean down to capture your lips, relishing in the way you squirmed at the deeper angle. A scream flooding his mouth that he ate, hips drilling you so amazingly deeper than before.

Leaning back slightly after the heated kiss he grins down with a promise, “Well then just relax and take daddy’s cock like my good girl? I’ll make you feel real~ nice.”

Whitebeard & Katakuri

Or the insanely sweet meanies, the unrealistically gigantic ones that took weeks to slowly get your body used to them.

“T-to~Ah!-mu-uh-ch~!” You’d croak out with a hoarse throat that had the man smile fondly moving hair from your face.

“Just a few more okay. You’re taking it really well dear.” A soft smile of reassurance making you literally melt in his touch, “Oooh cumming~!”

“Very good Y/N. Very good ~” Smiling proudly at the way you were squirting on two of his insanely large fingers and palm.

The day you even gave them head was a whirlwind that lead to your throat being wrecked. Fingers tangled deeply in your locks as saliva drenched your face and chest.

“Oh dear c-careful love.” He warned as he resisted the urge to thrust into your tight heat. He could probably kill you with it and that’s a chance he’d never take.

You wanted to bring him pleasure hell you wanted to feel something more but he was so…

Huge

Licking up the entire length with cute eyes, wrapping both hands and pumping his length as best you could had him moaning deeply.

“Easy little one.” He warned when he noticed you trying to hover above him. “No way.” He’d tell you and you’d respect it and continue. 

Sucking and licking making him hiss at every gag and gurgle your tight throat was doing. Trying to swallow every last drop his cock gave when he started to cum but nope.

Hair, face, tits, were drenched and it made your pussy the same. You wanted him so bad.  But you also adored his care to keep you safe.

So after more time you finally got to take the tip which had you screaming all night long. You felt amazing to him even without him being fully inside of your tight heat. “Taking it well love”

“Breath- that’s it little one.” He would coo to you when he first entered again but deeper with a new angle.

“Ah~! Fuckfuckfuck! Fu~uhh~ll!” You'd moan and the gargantuan man would smile as he rubbed at the bulge in your tummy. “Look at you~”

It didn’t matter how big you were they were bigger and they gained confidence in the fact they were so large.

Cock protruding your stomach unbelievably so, but it had you drooling. Giant meanies who can’t even kiss you cause they’re so big.

Fingers in your mouth as a way to send their love to you, knowing if they bent over they’d wreck you. Though the thought was weirdly tempting.

“It-bwig~uh~!” You’d slur sloppily around their thick veiny fingers you loved.  Kissing the tips of his finger in your mouth while a couple of inches of his cock kissed your cervix.

“I know little one, I know.” He would smile at your pleading eyes wanting to cum, silently begging him to take you there.

Large hands engulfing your breasts and kneading the flesh making you whimper around his digits. “Cum with me Y/N. Go on little one.”

Hips shallowly rolling into your spongy cunt that threatened to pull his girth inside. It was a tight fit, and impossible fit, but it felt great.

Legs shaking as your pussy squirt over his monstrous cock, screams of his name leaving you. Choking on moans and his large fingers as he drowned your pussy.

Cunt overwhelmed and filled to the brim with sticky cum as you quivered with rolled eyes. How could any man resist?

“Ah~!T-o much!” Cries would fill the room as his hardness would push his cum further into you.

Going deeper thanks to your relaxed walls and his copious amounts of spunk. “I know love, but you feel so good I know you can take just another inch.”

Thumb caressing your cheek sweetly with eyes full of love that had you nodding your head rapidly. “Y-yes please!” You’d whine making him smile.

“I love you so much.” …okay…

Maybe he wasn’t so mean.

#one piece #He's So...Series #one piece smut #cw some heavy kinks read the damn warnings!!! #honeys works 🍯 #one piece headcanons #one piece x female reader #one piece smut headcannons #x female reader #roronoa zoro smut #eustass kid smut #doflamingo smut #akainu sakasuki smut #sir crocodile smut #trafalgar d water law smut #one piece law smut #smoker smut #one piece smoker smut #whitebeard one piece #one piece whitebeard smut #one piece katakuri #one piece katakuri smut

[illyrian-dreamer]

Dance with the devil – Part 1

Rhysand x fem!reader series

Summary: You attempt to rob the High Lord of the Night Court.

Words: 3.3k

TW: Violence, death

Notes: Morally grey Rhysand below the cuff 😈😈😈

»»——-　★　——-«« ★ »»——-　★　——-««

Tick, tick, tick.

That stern voice nagged in your mind, laced with forewarning and impatience that only frustrated you further. 

You had just minutes to find the scroll and get out. 

With gritted teeth, you leaned closer, drowning out that voice - likely your mothers - as well as the drumming of your heart, waiting for that final click. 

You were versed in charming locks, picking them when you had to, just as you did now. And what waited on the other side of this door was worth every swallow of bile, every rise and swell of panic that begged you to think of the consequence - of what would happen if you were caught. 

It was only a half-moon prior that you had snuck into the infamous libraries of the Day Court while the city slept, hunting concealed maps and etchings of Helion’s castle. You studied the corridors and winding staircases of the impressive home, squinting through the flickering glow of the small fae light you had allowed yourself to cast, anxious eyes lifting reluctantly every so often, humouring the phantom furl of a page or shiver down your spine. 

So you pressed those routes to memory – sewers, plumbing, hidden passageways marked in some maps and not others. They were your only true salvage if things went wrong.  

Weapons were now strapped to every part of your leathers that would allow, layers of magic shielding your scent and sound so strong it made your joints ache, as if buckling under their weight.

Easy in, easy out, quick on your feet and don't look back.

That mantra was your only comfort as you silently slipped into the lavish guest suite, a breath of relief that its layout matched your efforts of breaking into the libraries. Because although night never found this court, there was only a small window in which the High Lords were away from their suites, and time was a persistent foe. 

It was incredibly risky to break into the guest quarters of the High Lord of the Night Court, especially after Hellion had declared his home a neutral grounds for the High Lord’s meeting. But what Rhysand possessed was invaluable – that scroll of ancient tongue, the only one of it’s kind. It was worth the risk of your own life, of certain death if you were caught.

Careful, gloved fingers sifted through the papers on the desk, making sure not to leave anything out of place. 

The details you had gained on the High Lord were valuable – he was neat, more than neat, really – his room immaculate and organised. A paper left rippled, a chair at a slight angle, even a stray hair on the sprawling marble floor – all were things he would surely notice. 

But you could tread lightly, could play to that game of fine detail. Nimble as a mouse – that’s how your father had always described you, affection warming his face as he compared you to your boisterous brother. 

With a clench of your heart, you forced the memory out. Once you had that scroll – soon. You would be together again soon.

As you crouched low to sift through the chestnut draws, mahogany carved with the kind of finery that made you sick, a hint of gold gleamed from the corner of the room, the light catching your eye. 

Padding with quiet creaks from your boots, you allowed yourself only a moment to admire the array of scrolls that lay in the wooden chest – it’s lid tipped open, beckoning to be explored. In the centre perched the most exotic of the artefacts. Boring rings of gold, it winked at you, a true diamond in the rough. 

With gentle inspection, you traced the characters etched in it’s casing, a cryptic ode of ancient tongue. 

A whisper of magic kissed your face, stray hairs dancing as goosebumps prickling beneath your leathers. It was waft of excitement, danger, magic aged by civilisations – this was a powerful scroll indeed.

With a hand on each end of the casing, you gently lifted the scroll into your satchel, careful not to knock it or disturb the casing. You would return it after all, once traced.

There was a shift in the air then, and a sinking feeling rippled through your abdomen, like a stone dropped into still water.

Get out – that voice urged. 

You had spent too long here already. 

Swallowing the fastening hammer of your heart, you raised from your knees, eyeing the unsuspecting cupboard  – behind it a hidden door, and behind that a winding pathway would lead you clear to the gardens.

You almost scoffed – this was easier than you had thought.

How could the High Lord be so reckless to leave something of this value lying about? 

The pit of your stomach deepened. 

Too easy – much, much too easy. 

An open, gaping well. 

Oh gods, this was a–

And then darkness – everywhere. 

You gasped, catching glimpses of red and blue as you staggered back. Your back hit something solid – no, someone. Strong arms gripped yours wrists, pinning them behind you. You tried to yell, but your breath hitched as violet eyes glowered amongst the tendrils of midnight smog, choking any sound that whined in your throat. 

“Well well, what do we have here?” a sultry voice purred, a refined silhouette emerging from the darkness, tall and broad. 

A gleam of teeth pulled with a feline smile, the figure prowling closer. Dangerous, lethal, ever knowing with a hint of cockiness.

And as tendrils of night magic cleared around their master, the High Lord of the Night Court was revealed.

Rhysand’s eyes danced with amusement as he watched realisation set in – your own features taut with horror. 

“Hello, Y/N darling.”

You were dead meat.

A heavy, intrusive sensation caused a shiver to rack through you as phantom claws tore through your useless shields, and you were suddenly overwhelmed by the scent of your own fear. 

Rhysand’s pretty grin only grew.

In a hopeless attempt to flee, you barely moved an inch as you tugged against the impossible grip on your arms.

He was closing in, coldness seeping from him as his magic curling in on itself, devouring any hints of warmth from the room, from your own veins. 

And then he stopped, just one agonising pace shy from your heaving chest. 

Here he was – High Lord of the Night Court. Wickedly cruel, arrogant and unnervingly calm, a cat who toyed with its food. The legendary villain of whispered rumours and horror stories exchanged amongst children of your village in the court of Dawn, parents so tired from their youngens loss of sleep that he was a banished name from many households.

Your eyes danced with a panic as instincts forced you to look for any chance of survival. Dressed with finery, but not a weapon on him – that was good. 

But as the shadows began to clear, another male was revealed perching patiently against the wall behind, blue siphons flickering as he stood with wide legs, arms crossed and face stoic. Azriel, the Shadowsinger and Spymaster, waited patiently for your attempt of escape, his own shadows at the ready. 

Fuck.

That meant the male that bound you was Cassian – Warlord and Chief General of the Illyrian armies. 

You were as good as dead.

Your breathing stuttered as you swallowed the plea for mercy begging at your lips. They were going to kill you, that was certain. You could only hope they would do it quickly.

“My my, Y/N,” Rhysand drawled, his voice playful and sensual. “We weren't certain if you were going to take the bait.” 

Placing hands on knees, he lowered himself to your level, those violet eyes captivating you, their depth incomprehensible. You tried to break Rhys’s gaze, but you rendered helpless, realising the cruel use of his magic. 

“But I’m so glad this is how we get to meet.”

He was expecting you? 

You glared back, your breaths quickening at the dangerous proximity.

If not at his mercy, you would have spat at his condescending manner. But instead you fought aimlessly against Cassian’s hold, the male pulling you back against his chest with a jarring tug, his grip tightening until you felt your pulse in your wrists. 

Your mind was scattering with each second, frantic eyes dancing at the High Lord before you. You hadn't expected him to be so… handsome. 

“Why, thank you,” Rhys cocked an eyebrow at you, that cat like grin exchanged for a lob-sided one. 

Had he just–? You scowled, cursing him silently. His abilities as a deamanti also deeming true.

Rhysand chuckled at your foul words, his laugh unexpectedly soft. “Such a feisty thing you are,” he commented, raking his purple eyes down your body. You suddenly felt incredibly exposed, despite the layers of leathers and weaponry you wore. 

“Let me go,” you spat hoarsely, heaving against the General once more. 

“You’re not in any position to make that request,” Cassian huffed, pulling back on the little distance you had gained. His voice was gruff as it hummed through your back.

You turned your head to look at the Warlord for the first time. He too, like the other males in the room, was noticeably handsome. His long hair fell into his face as he looked down at you, his eyes almost as amused as his High Lord. 

Were you just a joke to them?

“Oh, sweet Y/N, you’re not a joke at all. We’re actually quiet impressed by you,” Rhysand toyed, his eyebrows raised with a mocking tone. “We know you’ve been trailing us for months, Azriel here picked up on your movements in our court a whole quarter year ago.”

You flicked your eyes to the Spymaster, his position and face unmoving at his mention. You couldn't help your scowl at the male who was responsible to securing your death. 

“What we didn't expect, was for you to make it this far,” Rhysand continued with a chuckle, his head shaking in playful dismay.

Great – now on top of everything else, you were completely insulted.

“That’s why we set this trap for you. So we could finally meet.”

You frowned at Rhysand. You had been so careful, so stealthy about all your work in spying on the High Lord, slaving over maps and reports until you could no longer keep your eyes open, using the little money you had to buy off secrecy, and always covering your tracks. But it still hadn't been enough.

“Don’t look so disheartened, little mouse,” Rhysand purred, before he picked a piece of lint off his fitted black jacket. “The fact that you were able to break into my quarters alone is incredibly impressive.”

It had in fact, taken a lot of work. To sneak into Hellion’s home had taken three disenchantment spells, and compromised a suite of his guards who were yet to rise from their enchanted slumber. The locks and spells on Rhysand’s chamber were another thing in itself. 

“What will you do with me?” you gritted, glaring between the males in front of you, desperate to know your fate.

Rhysand dipped his head back and laughed, his posture too calm, too casual. 

“What will we do with you, hmm?” he repeated, and a shrinking instinct finding you, one that you hadn't felt since you were a child.

“Perhaps the question is, what would you like us to do with you?” It was a lovers voice, sensual and suggestive. 

You couldn't help the thunder of your heart as his scent filled your nose, crudely laced with arousal as it found you with a phantom wind.

Rhysand was on you then, his face inches from your own as swirls of night filled your vision, his violet eyes the only light you could see. 

You gasped at the sight before you – it was beautiful, but so, so deadly. 

“I don’t like having my things taken from me, Y/N.” Rhysand growled, his voice now cold, unforgiving. Those same claws that tore your shields now traced the outskirts if your mind, talons sinking slightly in warning. 

Despite the little pain, it was instinct to scream.

You tried to make quick peace at the thought of his violet eyes being the last thing you would ever see.

Open your eyes, he commanded mind to mind. 

Without realising you had closed them, you found yourself unable to disobey.

Rhysand withdrew as quickly as he had pounced, his darkness disappearing with him as he slid his hands into his pockets, rocking on fine shoes. His behaviour was erratic, such a contrast to the moment before. 

“Of course, it would be such a waste of good talent.” He shrugged nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t toyed with your very consciousness just moments before. 

You watched him pace, your eyes flicking to the spymaster once more, before noting the exits of the room you knew well. 

“You don't stand a chance,” Azriel spoke plainly, his hand fingering one of many blades strapped to his strong frame. A warning, from one spy to another.

Rhysand grinned between you two, running a smooth hand through his black-blue hair. 

Was he entertained by the idea that you were willing to give a fight? 

You felt a low rumble from Cassian’s chest, all three males daring you to challenge them in their own way. 

Azriel was right – it was suicide to try. 

Rhysand hummed with pleasure, reading your submission as your body sagged every so slightly. 

“I’ll tell you what, Y/N. I’ll make you a deal.” 

A bargain, a promise, and perhaps a riddle from Prythian’s deadliest High Lord. 

“I’d rather you kill me,” you said tightly. 

Rhysand laughed again, and you felt the movements of Cassian’s chuckle from behind. 

“Oh, sweetheart. Surely there’s a tad more fight in you than that?” 

You scowled in return. 

Rhysand approached you again, now holding the scroll of ancient tongue. 

“What do you know of this scroll?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“Try again.”

You winced. “I don't know anything.”

Rhysand tutted. “Little liar,” he grinned at you, his violet eyes sparkling with challenge. “I’ll ask one more time,” he sang.

You felt them again, and it took all you had to not crumble at Cassian’s boots at the flooding pain as Rhysand dragged a singular, scraping talon across your mind and back. 

“Resurrection!” you yelped – a half breath, half scream escaping you as your legs gave out. Cassian held you up, your body rigid as Rhysand’s talon pierced your mind further. The pain was blinding, eliciting a howl from you as your vision flashed with white. 

Yet Rhysand’s icy threat cut through. “I have a lot of enemies, Y/N. I don't suppose you are hoping to fetch a pretty penny for anyone who might seek to bring back the rightfully dead?”

“No, n-no!” you gasped, your body spasming and contorting as he continued to toy with you. “Please, it’s for m-my family!”

Rhysand left your mind as quickly as he had entered it. You sagged in relief, Cassian gently setting you down as your crumpled to the floor, your body shaking and twitching. 

You had just enough energy to raise your eyes and meet the High Lord’s stare. Gone was his expression of cruel amusement, it was now replaced with a frown of serious, deep thought. 

He had seen them – your family, their smiles and laughter as your memory flashed at their mention. That meant he had also seen their deaths, their limp bodies piled for you to find in your own home. 

“You wish to resurrect them?” Rhys asked softly. 

All you could do was nod. You were sure you weren't noting a sense of sympathy from the male.

Rhys shook his head, his eyes closing. “If it were that easy Y/N, I’d have the missing kin to my own family here today.”

You looked up at the High Lord through heavy lids, exhaustion overcoming your body with an occasional twitch. 

“I have to try,” was all you could offer, your voice small and unsure. 

Rhysand stared down at you with furrowed brows, serious yet unreadable. After a few moments, he blinked, a few stars returning to his eyes as he raised them to Cassian with a quick nod. 

Strong hands unfurled from your arms, and Cassian stepped back, providing you some space on the marbled tiles as you shook.

Death then, at last. May the Mother have mercy, let it be quick, you prayed silently.

A gentle pull of your hand from your face, and your fingers were forced to close around a ovoidal object. 

Rhysand was crouched in front of you, his face unreadable as his cold hand kept your fingers pressed to the scroll

“I’ll tell you what Y/N. You find a way to decipher this scroll and bring back your family. And when you do, you share that information with me, so that I may do the same.”

You pulled your hand back, eyes darting between his violet ones as if you read the trick that undoubtedly hid beneath his offer. 

“And why in Mother’s name would I trust you?”

He smirked humourlessly. “Unless you prefer the alternative –“ Rhysand’s eyes blackened instantly, and your heart skipped a beat at the promise of death that beheld them. “– I don’t believe you have a choice.”

Make a bargain with the High Lord, or die. Not in a thousand lifetimes could you have predicted an ultimatum so soulless.

“Do we have a deal?” Rhysand offered his large hand as he still crouched before you, his eyebrows raising with a hint of impatience.

You flicked your gaze between Azriel and Cassian. Both of them watched patiently, their stances neutral, obedient of their High Lord’s business. It bothered you – how were both of them so complicit to his evil? 

Looking back at Rhysand – you ignored the voice inside you that screamed at you not to trust him. 

Letting out a short breath, you lifted yourself to your knees and clasped your hand in his. “It’s a deal.”

A gasp escaped you as a stinging heat spread across the hand held in his, and etched it’s way up your forearm. With wide eyes, you watched the burn and itch of a ink-like pattern forming on your skin. Swirls now covered your once naked arm, the picture of one hand shaking another stark on the inside of your palm. It was your hand in Rhysand’s – a symbol of the bargain you had just agreed to. For eternity, or until you deciphered this scroll you realised, with no lack of nausea.  

Rhysand grinned, marvelling the matching tattoo that now tainted his skin. “I’ll be checking in on your progress frequently, Y/N darling.” 

Unable to find the right words for you distaste, you snatched your hand away and pressed against your stomach, willing your self not to be sick.

You were now indebted to this hellish, sinister being.

Rhysand appeared as unfazed. “Perhaps you would consider a job in my court with Azriel?” he mused, flexing his fingers as he continued to take in the impressive detail of your bargain. “Again, we were quite impressed with your work.” 

He was teasing of course, and Azriel’s hazel eyes winced with humour as all three males watched for your reaction. 

You scowled at Rhysand, glaring up at him again. “I prefer my freedom, actually,” you snarled. 

Rhysand laughed in his sensual way, before grinning a wicked smile down at you. “Or what’s left of it. 

He straightened then, his wig men moving to his sides with grace – a practiced dance for all three. 

“I suggest you excuse yourself from my quarters the moment we’re gone Y/N, I’ll know otherwise.”

With a clasp to his shoulders from Azriel and Cassian, the three males were gone in a ripple of odourless night. 

Until then, little spy, Rhysand’s voice echoed in your mind.

»»——-　★　——-«« ★ »»——-　★　——-««

AN: Ok new series let's gooooo!! Welcome to DWTD! Hello morally grey mosthandsomehighlordofthenightcourt 💞😈 I am so so excited to explore this series with y'all. Pleeeeease let me know what you think of part 1, I wrote this over so many months lol I hope it tied together. General tag list is tagged, but if you'd like to join a tag list for this series (DWTD), comment below! La la love you guys, hope you're all safe and doing ok 💞

#rhysand x reader #rhysand series #morally grey rhysand #rhys series #rhys x reader #rhys x oc #azriel #cassian #rhys fanfic #acotar fandom #acotar angst #acotar series #acotar #acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction #sarah j maas #rhys x fem!reader #acotarfanfic #dwtd series #the bat boys #a court of thorns and roses #dream big with nic

[farfromstrange]

Matt Murdock || Masterlist

Find Me On AO3

⤹ NAVIGATION.

🫀 -> comfort for the aching hearts

🔥 -> Smut/explicit sexual content (18+ MINORS DNI)

🌻 -> Fluff

💧 -> Angst

🪐 -> All fics set in the universe of my longest and ongoing work Foreigner's God

⤹ ONE SHOTS:

☽ Sleep [matt murdock x reader] 🫀

✑ she can’t sleep and he’s there to make sure she’s alright.

☽ Costumer Service [matt murdock x afab!reader] 🔥🫀

✑ after a rough day at work, you lash out at your boyfriend. matt being matt, he makes it his mission to give you what you need to relax.

☽ Late Night Talking [matt murdock x fem!oc] 🌻🪐

✑ eliza has the weirdest questions on her mind in the middle of the night. three times she wakes up matt to answer her questions and the one time matt wakes her with an important question.

☽ Spiders [matt murdock x fem!reader] 🌻

✑ matt finds a spider in the house and he refuses to kill it so his girlfriend has to step up to do the job. she hates it as much as he does.

☽ Long-distance [matt murdock x afab!reader] 🔥 🌻

✑ Matt buys you a long-distance remote vibrator so he can play with you while he’s away – but there is a twist! He has one too, and he wants you to play with him while he plays with you. All over the phone, no touching. You can’t say no to that offer.

☽ Gifted Kid Burnout [matt murdock x f!reader] 💧🫀

✑ she’s exhausted, burned out and he wants nothing more than to help her.

☽ Stay Quiet [matt Murdock x f!reader] 🔥

✑ porn without plot in which Matty fucks you in the office (and Foggy gets traumatized for life)

☽ For You [matt murdock x f!reader] 🔥

✑ request: prompt 78 — loss of virginity (exactly what the prompt says it’s gonna be)

☽ Pointless [matt murdock x female!oc / matt x reader] 🌻 🪐

✑ song fic based on Pointless by Lewis Capaldi — a glimpse into how Matt views their relationship. (Part of the FG series, but no names are used)

☽ Ease The Pain [matt murdock x reader] 🔥🌻 🫀

✑ Matt helps to ease your period pains.

☽ Daddy Issues [matt murdock x reader] 💧🫀

✑ you flinch when Matt raises his voice for the first time and he learns about your daddy issues. Not the sexy kind.

☽ Angel On The Roof [matt murdock x reader] 💧 -> TW: SUICIDE

✑ Mental illness is silent until it isn’t, but then it’s often too late. Or, Matt accompanies a troubled stranger home on a couple of occasions, not realizing what he’s truly feeling until she’s already lost the battle against her own mind.

☽ Angel On The Roof (Your Version) -> Request; TW: MENTIONS OF SUICIDE AND SELF-HARM but with a happy ending!

✑ What if Matt’s word did manage to talk you off the edge and you find a way out of the dark hole that is depression? This is ‘Angel On The Roof’ from your POV with a happy ending.

☽ Useless [matt murdock x reader]

✑ Matt finds you during a depressive episode and he takes care of you. 💧🫀

☽ Promise Me [matt murdock x ofc] 🪐

✑ Foreigner’s God One-Shot — tender moments shared at night

☽ Good Boys Deserve To Be Taken Care Of [matt murdock x afab!reader] 🔥

✑ Matt looks good in the mornings. He always looks good, but the object of your attraction lies a bit lower this time, and you want to worship him like he deserves. (Or, an ode to Matt’s beautiful ass and the attention it deserves.)

✑ Part 2 to this can now be read here.

☽ Are You Okay? [matt murdock x reader] 🫀

✑ Sometimes it takes just one question or one person to make your shitty day less shitty.

☽ Back To December [matt murdock x reader] -> Request 💧 TW: DEATH

✑ Everything and everyone eventually slips through Matt Murdock’s fingers, and he doesn’t manage to save you in this one. (Hurt/ no comfort)

☽ Narcissist [matt murdock x reader] -> Request 💧🫀 TW: DOMESTIC ABUSE

✑ Trying to catch a break from your abusive boyfriend, you find yourself seeking refuge and a drink at Josie's in the middle of the night. It's where you bump into Matt Murdock, a charming stranger with the promise of a night of fun. After taking you home with him, it doesn't take him long to discover the dark nature of your need to escape.

☽ Honest Mistake [matt murdock x reader] -> Request 🌻

✑ After a night at Josie's, Foggy spends the night. When Matt wakes up the next day to kiss you good morning, he soon realizes that it's not you who is lying next to him but rather Foggy himself.

☽ Tupperware [matt murdock x f!reader] 🔥

✑ A conversation about kitchen supplies takes an unexpected turn…

☽ Matilda [matt murdock x f!reader] 💧🫀

✑ You tried moving on from your past, but some things still haunt you. Matt is there to comfort you and tell you that sometimes, it’s okay to just let it go, even if it’s your family.

☽ Brother [matt murdock x sister!reader] l -> Request 💧

✑ After an argument with Matt about something that seems so stupid now, you get kidnapped by a human trafficking ring and he has to save you, his sister, before something worse happens. He finds you battered and bruises, but at least you’re alive. (This is solely x sister!reader, nothing more)

☽ WORDLE [matt murdock x ofc] 🌻 🪐

✑ Eliza and Foggy play Wordle, and it soon turns into a very competitive game.

☽ Please, Be Okay [matt murdock x reader] 🫀💧

✑ When Matt doesn’t answer your texts or calls like he usually does, you start to expect the worst…

☽ You’re Losing Me [matt murdock x reader] 💧 -> Request

✑ Based on “You’re Losing Me” by Taylor Swift. You and Matt have a fight and you throw him out of the bedroom with a decision to make. The question is just, is he going to give up on you and prompt you to leave or will you two manage to fix what’s broken?

☽ Feisty [matt murdock x f!reader] 🔥 -> Request

✑ Matt decides he has to show you your place after you two have an argument.

☽ Sub Space [matt murdock x f!reader] 🌻🔥 -> Request

✑ After particularly rough sex with Matt, you find yourself lost in sub space and he takes care of you.

☽ Slipping Through My Fingers [matt murdock x teen!vigilante!reader] 💧 -> Request (Not a ship fic!) TW: Death.

✑ You get caught by yours and Matt’s enemies and he can’t save you.

☽ Naughty Girl [matt murdock x f!reader] 🔥 -> Request

✑ Messing around with Matt at work leads to an unwelcome interruption and your naughty side coming out, which Matt is not happy with…

☽ Cruel Revenge [matt murdock x f!reader] 🔥 -> Request

✑ Matt decides to mess with you at work this time when Foggy and Karen come to visit… (kind of a part 2 to Naughty Girl)

☽ Sweeter Than Fiction [matt murdock x afab!reader] 🔥 -> Request

✑ You decide to learn Braille and buy a rather… unconventional book to put your knowledge to the test, and Matt gets suspicious about why a book gets more attention than he does (and gets you wet)

☽ Just Let Me Love You [matt murdock x f!reader] 💧🫀

✑ You're struggling with your body image. Matt comforts you.

☽ Focus [matt murdock x f!reader] 🔥 -> Request

✑ Matt blindfolds you after you ask him to show you what it feels like to experience an orgasm blind.

☽ Is It Over Now? [matt murdock x neutral!reader] 💧

✑ inspired by “is it over now?” by Taylor Swift. Matt cheats on you and you deal with your thoughts. Slight Frank Castle x Reader and Elektra x Matt. (Warning: Matt slander. This is from the POV of someone who had their heart broken. Beware.)

☽ New Year’s Day [matt murdock x neutral!reader] 🌻

✑ Inspired by many Taylor Swift’s discography. You recount your relationship with Matt as he asks you an important question on New Year’s Eve.

☽ Sensory Deprivation [matt murdock x afab!reader] 🔥 -> Request

✑ You help Matt focus after the world gets just a little too much.

☽ Up Against The Wall [matt murdock x f!reader] 🔥

✑ PWP. You and Matt do it against the window after you pissed him off. That's it.

☽ Unicorns Need Love Too [matt murdock x f!reader] 🌶️ (semi-spice)🌻

✑ You’re ovulating, and your hormones are not taking it easy on you. Matt is there to help. Kind of. He’s a little shit.

☽ S.M.S [matt murdock x f!reader] 🔥

✑ Soft Morning Sex with Matt Murdock.

☽ Interview With The Vampire [matt murdock x f!reader] 🔥🧛💧

✑ You are the first journalist to interview Hell’s Kitchen’s resident vampire vigilante after he requested you personally to tell his story. (…) As it turns out, interviewing a vampire is a lot more complex than you expected it to be, and Matthew Michael Murdock has set his mind on ruining you for any other man to come.

⤹ ON-GOING SERIES:

☽ Foreigner’s God [matt murdock x fem!oc] 🪐 🌻 💧 🔥 ⇛ official tag is #foreigner’s god, if you want to search my profile! you should find all the chapters, previews, snippets, thoughts, etc. listed in chronological order.

☽ Total Eclipse Of The Heart [matt murdock x f!vampire!reader] 🔥🩸 ⇛ Part 1, 2, 3… ⇛ DARK FANTASY (dead dove do not eat) so you know what you’ll sign up for when you click the link. this shit filthy as hell. read at your own risk.

☽ Do No Harm [matt murdock x f!reader] 🌻 💧 🔥 ⇛ Doctor!Reader, slow-burn series

⤹ HEADCANONS:

☽ Going on vacation with Matt Murdock [matt Murdock x afab!reader] 🔥 🌻

✑ what it would be like to go on vacation with our dear Matthew and his heightened senses (he really loves us in this one)

☽ Totally random Matt Murdock headcanons that keep me up at night [matt murdock x reader] 🔥 🌻

✑ some headcanons (6, to be exact) that keep me up at night

⤹ THOTS & BLURBS:

☽ Going to Fogwell’s with Matt… [matt murdock x f!reader] 🔥

☽ Switch!Matt thots [matt murdock x afab!reader] 🔥

☽ False God By Taylor Swift Thot [matt murdock x reader] 🔥

⤹ EVENTS:

☽ Kinktober 2023 (Matt's Version) [matt murdock x afab!reader] 🔥

☽ Lizzi’s Valentine’s Special & Follower Celebration -> Introducing: The Vault 🔥 🌻 💧

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x oc #matt murdock x female reader #matt murdock x gender neutral reader #daredevil #daredevil x reader #charlie cox #reader insert #matt murdock smut #matt murdock angst #matt murdock fluff

[chilling-seavey]

Nothing Looks the Same in the Light (ln4 op81)

↳ A/N I use my Wham! obsession every chance I can get. This song was playing as I was cleaning my apartment and this idea played in my mind like a movie.

↳ Inspired By 'Nothing Looks the Same in the Light' by Wham!

↳ Summary: "I watch you breathe, I cannot sleep. I touch your hair, I kiss your skin, and hope the morning sun won’t wake you too soon [...] Nothing looks the same in the light. Only a fool like me would take to heart the things you said you meant last night."

↳ Pairings: Lando Norris x Oscar Piastri

↳ Word Count: 1364

↳ Warnings: Might tug at your heartstrings. Contains an open ending...and I know how you all hate those whoops

The sunrise cascaded ribbons of golden light across the crisp white sheets of the king size bed, weaving and dancing over the two forms that lay motionless in the sea of linen. It was a calm and quiet morning, the four wallpapered walls of the five-star hotel protecting its timid guests as they slept soundly. The sunkissed bedclothes embraced the two young men, shielding their bare skin from the chill of the air conditioner and the shame that might have arisen with the dawn of a new day. 

Last night was a whirlwind. A race, a podium, a drunken confession. The memories were hazy and choppy, unclear, mortifying. 

Lando was wide awake. 

He couldn’t remember when exactly he had woken up - he knew that he had slept at least somewhat - but he seemed to have watched the sun creep up the wall as it rose for the last however long. He had laid there, unmoving, unblinking, for at least an hour, not wanting to risk rousing the person who took up the other half of the bed alongside him. He didn’t want to have to face the reality of his situation right away. 

Oscar was too sweet to kick him out, he knew that much at least. 

Selfishly, Lando wanted to bask in this moment just a little longer. Just long enough to appreciate the purgatory that lingered between a clueless slumber and the awkward conversation that would certainly arise once Oscar woke up. Hopefully the orange sun streaming in through the sheer curtains wouldn’t wake him too soon. 

Besides, Oscar looked so angelic as he slept. 

Faint, peaceful breaths fanned across the pillow from the slumbering younger of the two, the only sound in the silent room. Lando was captivated by the gentle motion of Oscar’s body as he breathed; the way his chest rose and fell slowly but surely under his cautious arm that had wrapped around his middle sometime in the middle of the night. Oscar was always the calmer of the two, always the observer. Now, in the morning light, Lando gladly took that label for his own. 

Sleep deprived green eyes stared at the freckles that dotted the warm skin of the young man beside him in picture perfect constellations. Moving cautiously, Lando set the pad of his index finger against one of them at the base of his neck and then traced the invisible path to another across his shoulder. Goosebumps rose in his wake across the pale skin and Lando’s lip perked up faintly at the corner. He leaned in the few centimetres between them to softly press his lips to one of the freckles in a timid kiss. 

Oscar smelt like champagne and sunshine, an ode of citrus in his hair from the hotel shampoo, hints of alcohol from the night before that now tingled on Lando’s lips, and he took an opportunity to just breathe him in. Fresh and sweet. They were pressed so close together that Lando’s nose was almost touching the nape of his neck and his selfish fingers ghosted up the top of Oscar’s spine, over each vertebrae, to finally caress through the roots of his messy brown hair.

Lando had never done this before; shared a bed with a man. Certainly not one who was his teammate if nothing else. There were boundaries in this career that one dare not cross. In such a public position, Lando didn’t have the space to risk the opportunity for rumours, so he kept everyone at an arm's length away.

But it always felt so right with Oscar. From the moment they met Lando knew he was royally fucked. 

Lando had always been the more experienced of the two in all aspects of racing, of Formula 1, of the whirlwind world in which they were a part of. Here, now, Lando felt entirely clueless. He was a slave to the passing of time and the inevitable approaching moment of which he would have to look Oscar in the eyes and hear that this was a mistake. 

Curse the celebratory champagne for coaxing a drunken confession out of him. Maybe he should have listened to George and stayed away from alcohol on race weekends. 

Blinking slowly, trying to piece together the night before, Lando could see visions of Oscar in the darkness of his eyelids. His stupid little pout, his bashful eye roll, his whispered voice slurring his accent with the consequence of too many drinks. 

“Take your time...”

The tentative touch of his hands on his skin, their limbs entangled, plush lips pressed together in between tiny whimpers of desire gone unsaid. 

The memory made him shiver, his heart squeezing in his chest. This was why he never let himself get close to anyone. This was why he prioritized racing over anything else. Stupid, stupid feelings. 

Lando was startled by a faint car horn blaring from somewhere outside the hotel, startling him from the peace. The sharp sound had Oscar shifting in his sleep with a sigh through his nose, hands folding under his cheek against the pillow. Lando’s arm snaked back around Oscar’s waist, tucked safely over the duvet, and he tightened his grip just enough to pull him closer until their bodies were moulded together in parallel shapes. All he could do was wait and see what would become of this. Soon Oscar would be waking up and what would that bring? 

Lando felt like a fool.

He felt like a fool for ever thinking that Oscar would want him back, for thinking that Oscar would wake up and not have regrets about everything that happened the night before, and, especially, for throwing caution into the wind and confessing his feelings to his teammate like some meek love-sick puppy. How pathetic. Lando wanted the sunrise to swallow him up and incinerate him into a dimwitted pile of ash.

With his arm absolutely motionless around Oscar’s waist, Lando’s palm was pressed gently to his stomach, feeling the warmth of his skin under the duvet and the firm muscle of his lean body. Oscar’s abdomen rose and fell with every breath, moving Lando’s gentle hand along with it. In, and out. In, and out. It was almost lulling Lando back to sleep, letting his mind focus on that serene moment where it was easy to pretend that everything was perfect and right there in that hotel room bed was where he was always meant to be. 

The sudden change in Oscar’s steady breathing had Lando stiffening in cold anxiety, keeping himself frozen still as Oscar inhaled deeply and let it out with a soft heavenly sigh as he awoke. The rustle of the sheets as he stirred and stretched was the only sound in the room and it was almost deafening. Lando watched the muscles of Oscar’s back flex and move as he turned over to face the ceiling, hands raising to rub his red-rimmed brown eyes, still exhausted and, now too, hungover. 

Lando dared not breathe, as if it wasn’t glaringly obvious that he was clearly present in the bed beside him. 

Finally, Oscar rested his hands gently over the blankets around his chest and he lolled his head to the side to look at Lando under slightly furrowed brows. The faintest hint of a pout on his face had Lando almost shying away under the covers, his heart racing with adoration and his stomach twisting with anxiety. Even still, Lando couldn’t get himself to look away from his eyes, his arm still around his middle and their legs crudely tangled under the wrinkled sheets. 

It was as if it took a few seconds for Oscar to process who he was looking at but, even as he did, his expression stayed stagnant, rich brown eyes squinting in the morning light that poured in through the windows. Lando swore he had never seen brown eyes sparkle the way Oscar’s did in that moment. Neither of them moved. 

Oscar cleared his throat slightly before trying to speak, breaking the silent uncertainty that lingered between them in that moment, his voice deep and raspy and his accent thick, “Hey.”

Somewhere, in the distance, a bird sang.

“Hey.”

My Very Extensive Tag List™: @wetforwolff

None of the original writing on this blog may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

#lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #landoscar fic #landoscar smut #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri smut #lando norris smut #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #f1 one shot #f1 fic #f1 fluff #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 one shot #formula 1 smut #formula 1 fanfic

[this-is-a-name-dont-worry]

things that seemed reoccurring this update:

- Meat

- peas

- jelly

- Hibernation

- Eddie's absence

- Acting out a script (Sally mumbling asking if it's her cue and Howdy changing the script of the narrator in Homewarming storybook, characters general interactions with the narrator, different moments in the video, like the Sally and Frank ad break or the song a barely silent night, where the two literally fight over who get to sing, Sally mentions she wrote the lyrics, and Frank says she already has a song. yeah all of these are easy to see as meta goofs in the original material, but it's the fact there's so much of it this update) (of course all this wrap up with the end of the video where Eddie and Frank are obviously acting off script)

- Being alone (Eddie not having any news of anyone and not even seeing anyone outside (which is interesting as the story says that Sally was up in a tree near his home and saw him fret over having nothing to do), Wally saying it's so quiet during Homewarming and it's just he and Home for a while (potentially the show putting out a christmas special and then being on break? can a show do that?), and in the normal website material, the end of "An ode to hibernation", Frank saying "Where all that's left is me", the "me" being a "...me?")

- Welcome Home being used to sell stuff (cigarettes, medicine, eggnog, cereals, and the cookbook lists ingredients that are a specific brand)

(I'm putting under read more my rambling thoughts so you can just reblog the list without having to see them)

so I can't really make sense yet of all the food stuff. Maybe there are cultural elements/expressions I don't know that explains it? But I still find it very interesting how fucking unhinged that cookbook is yet the commercial and the website treat it normally. The cookbook is overall extremely interesting, because some of the recipes seem to actually be written by the characters; Barnaby who only presents you weird hot dog dressings with pictures but no recipe (and all jokes), Frank who lists not just the ingredients but also the material, and overexplain each steps (at least overexplain compared to the other recipes. it's actually interesting to know why you do x or y), and Julie who turns her recipe into a game at the end, and felt a bit harder to follow? anyway.

The cookbook, the Homewarming tradition of hanging a ham in the tree, Santy Claus being said sometimes instead of Santa, the ham for Santa? Once again, the christmas commercials being so casual about some of the weird stuff it says and presents? This almost feels like an alien who only has a blurry grasp of Christmas and what humans enjoy made the cookbook and the live commercial.

Sometimes, Welcome Home feels like it never actually aired and produced things, but we're making it retroactively exist. Something is making it exist. Like a retcon of the universe, "What do you mean you never heard of Welcome Home? No, of course it always existed and was very popular, look at all this old material we find!"

So maybe whatever is making it exist doesn't fully get humans and accidentally creates things that are weird to prove its existence. Like a cookbook that tells you a single pea in a buttered plate is a classic meal, or that of course you give Santa ham on Homewarming! (tbh almost getting an AI weirdness feel)

But in total contrary, in its story, Welcome Home also feels like it always existed, but got somehow completely wiped from people's mind, as something caused its sudden stop, and its characters gained consciousness of what they are and their world. As an existential dread fell on them one after the other, slowly realizing something isn't right. As Eddie felt anxiety and nervousness over no one being there or contacting him, to then having the story acts lightheartedly about it, the narrator saying things have been solved but he doesn't feel it, and suddenly Home is staring at him.

Both "It never existed but the universe is being retcon into it existing" and "it existed but something terrible happened that erased it from peoples mind" seem plausible. If two theories contradict each other, that means there's a third one that needs to be found.

Maybe it existed. Maybe it truly was popular, but something corrupted it, leading to its disappearance. A disappearance so big it stopped to exist. And now the thing that corrupted it is trying to crawl back, make it exist again, but it's making it come back completely off.

Anyway.

Also, I think the show may have been on hold during the Holiday season, "hibernating", and the character who got some self awareness realized that something was off. They're alone because there's nothing new, so no one is there bringing life to the neighborhood.

#welcome home #anyway there is an existential nightmare going on that's for sure #also at one point writing my rambling I thought about metaphor for capitalism #the show gains succes and so there's a push to make money out of it. capitalism is corrupting it until it goes in shambles. #now a few decades later banking on nostalgia to make profit is what big things do #bringing back the thing from your childhood to show it again but it's off because what brought it back is not love for the thing #it's being brought back because of capitalism. the thing that corrupted it in the first place is trying to bring it back. #sorry i still ramble in the tags :x

[bingwriterxo]

call your mom

pairing: jenna ortega x reader

summary: in which jenna gets worrying texts

warnings: HEAVY TOPICS -- depression, OD, minors DNI (18+)

word count: 1800+

author's note: based on the song 'call your mom' by noah kahan. if you guys ever need to talk, hit my inbox please.

You (1:53am): i'm sorry.

You (1:53am): i love you.

Jenna grumbled at the sound of her text-tone cutting through the silent night, but she still turned over in her bed to reach for her phone, knowing that only one person was set to interrupt her usual do-not-disturb. She cracked one eye open to read what you had sent her and then shot up, fear surging through her.

"No, no, no," she muttered as her fingers fumbled around the screen, trying to unlock her phone as quickly as possible. She's fine, she thought. She has to be fine. The tears that were already welling in her eyes told her otherwise.

When she finally managed to open her phone, she immediately called you, her breath quickening with each ring that went by in which you didn't answer.

"Come on, come on. Please."

She was already pushing the covers from her body and slipping from her bed, shuffling around the dark room to grab a pair of socks and her keys.

"Y/N, please," she pleaded to the dial tone.

Then, a click.

"Jenna," you whispered, your voice raw and hurt and everything Jenna didn't want to hear.

"Y/N?!" She slipped one sock on, fumbled with the other. "Y/N, what's going on?"

There was a sob on the other end of the line.

Where the fuck are my keys?!

"I can't..." you cried into the phone. "Jenna, I--"

Jenna clenched her jaw as she hurried toward the light switch, turning it on and spotting her keys. She grabbed them, ignoring her body's protests of everything going too fast.

"I'll be there so soon, baby," she said, trying to keep her voice calm even though all she wanted to do was sob and shake. "Just hold on, okay?"

"I can't do it anymore, Jenna." You sniffled, hiccupped, then, "I love you."

Jenna shook her head. "No, baby. Stay on the phone with me, please."

She slipped into the first pair of shoes she could find, rushed out the front door of her apartment, sprinted down the stairs so quickly that she should've fallen, and was in her car in a matter of moments.

The engine rumbled to life, and your voice erupted through the car's speakers. "I can't. I just...it's too much."

"Y/N, stay on the phone." Her foot was heavy on the gas pedal. "You have to stay on the phone."

You let out a shaky breath. "It all hurts." You coughed wetly. "Everything hurts, J."

"I know, baby. I know, but it'll be okay. It won't last forever, okay?" Hold on. Just hold on.

"I'm--I'm getting real tired," you said, voice cracking, breaths shallow.

Fuck.

"Did you take something?" She pressed harder on the gas pedal, slipped beneath a yellow light. You didn't answer, and her speedometer climbed, climbed, climbed. "Y/N, did you take something?!" she gritted out, trying to keep her own sobs at bay.

She could hear you swallow. "Yeah," you breathed out.

Her grip on the wheel tightened. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. "Okay, you're gonna be okay. Just stay on the phone with me. Can you do that for me? Please?"

Your sobs were echoing around the car, bouncing from one speaker to the next right into Jenna's ears, and it was painful. She wanted to shut it all out, but she knew she couldn't.

"No, I gotta go," you mumbled.

"Baby, don't hang up. Stay on the pho--"

"I love you."

"Y/N, don't--!"

The beeps that came when you hung up felt like nails being hammered into a coffin, and Jenna finally let herself cry. She was shaking; her palms were pressed so tightly against the wheel that her knuckles were turning white; her speed was far too high for the speed limit.

"Fuck!" she screamed. She was still twenty minutes away.

Call her mom. Call her mom.

"Hey, Siri." Her phone sounded to life. "Call Y/M/N."

The dial tone filled the car. One ring, two rings. Please. I need you.

"Jenna?" Your mom's voice was groggy, like the phone call had woken her from deep sleep. "Is everything okay?"

"I don't know what to do," Jenna sobbed. "Y/N took something." She was hyperventilating, and she couldn't seem to stop. "She took something, and I'm on the way to her right now, but I don't know if I'll be fast enough."

"Oh god." There was rustling on the other end of the phone. Your mom said something to your dad, something Jenna couldn't pick up on. "Okay, Jenna. Y/F/N is sending an ambulance to her apartment, okay? They'll be there in a few minutes."

"God, I don't know when she took them. I don't--I don't if that'll be soon enough." She covered her mouth with one hand, tried to stop crying while talking. "I don't know what to do. What do I do?" Tears were blurring her vision.

"You need to breathe, honey, alright?"

"I'm sorry. I--" She felt pathetic. Your parents could lose a child tonight, yet she was the one sobbing and asking for help. "I can't lose her."

"I know. Jenna, breathe. You won't be any help if you can't make it to her." Your mom was crying now, too. "We need to breathe. She'll be okay. She'll be alright." It sounded more like she was trying to reassure herself. "She's strong." There was more shuffling. "We're going to her apartment now."

"I'm almost there." She pressed harder on the gas. "I'm almost there." Please, Y/N. Hold on. Just a little longer. Just a few more minutes.

"She'll be okay, Jenna." Your mom let out a gasping sob. "She has to be."

You have to be okay. We need you.

Stay with us.

* * *

The lights were blinding; the chairs were uncomfortable; the air was sterile in a way that air shouldn't be; there was beeping echoing from every direction; nurses were walking around, this way and that.

Jenna couldn't think about anything other than the fact that you were laying in a hospital bed, just a few rooms away. A doctor had come in earlier, talked to her and your parents about what had happened, but she had tuned everything out.

Her fingers were fiddling with themselves, hands wringing together. Your mom's hand was resting on her knee, which was bouncing up and down, up and down, up and--

"Y/L/N?"

She shot out of her chair. Your parents did, too. The doctor said something, and she knew she should've been listening, but she was waiting for--

"You can go see her now," he said.

The three of you rushed to the room that you were given, and Jenna had to pause in the doorway, watching as your parents hurried to the farther side of your bed. You looked so...tiny, laying there--fragile in a way that Jenna had never seen.

Tears welled in her eyes again, and she took a step back, gasping for air. Your mom looked up at her--your father down at you--but Jenna just waved her hand. Take care of her, she thought. She needs it.

She stumbled back into the waiting room and fell into a chair, trying to erase the image of you in the bed, of you in the back of the ambulance, of you alone in your apartment, sitting in your bathroom when she had arrived. She wiped at her eyes, rubbed at them, pressed the heel of her palm into them like it would rid her mind of the memories.

Come on, Jenna. Pull yourself together.

She couldn't.

It was too much. It was all too much.

She was crying again, in the empty waiting room. Her sobs filled the air, loud and unrestrained and laced with pain, and her tears slid down her cheeks unabashedly.

Then, a hand on her shoulder. Soft, strong, careful. Jenna looked up. Your mom stood beside her, offering her the smallest of smiles.

"She wants to see you, honey," she said quietly.

Jenna sniffled, wiped at her tears. "Okay." She nodded and stood. Your mom led her back to your room, and she followed like she was on autopilot, her legs moving quicker than her mind wanted.

When she arrived, you were watching her, eyes wide and owl-ish, scared and child-like, sorry. Half of her was tempted to run back into the waiting room and hide there until this was all over, until she woke up from what she was sure was a dream. The other half knew that you needed her, and she listened to that half as she walked inside and kneeled beside your bed.

"We'll give you two some time," your father said, and Jenna didn't even look at him as she heard your parents shuffle from the room. She was staring at you, at your eyes, your lips, the slope of your nose--everything that could've been gone.

You sighed, shrank in on yourself. "I'm sorry," you whispered.

Jenna swallowed. "You're okay." Her bottom lip trembled as she spoke, relieved that she was able to say those words. "You're okay."

"I'm okay."

"I thought--" Her voice cracked, and she choked back a sob. "I thought I was going to lose you." She shook her head and blinked back tears. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

You chewed at your bottom lip and sniffled. "I'm okay."

"Okay." She was crying again, unable to stop herself. She leaned forward and pressed her lips to your forehead, closing her eyes to bask in the feeling of your warmth, of your life. "I love you," she mumbled against you.

"I love you, too."

* * *

Jenna moved into your apartment a week later.

It wasn't an idea forced on you but rather one that you suggested. I don't know if I can trust myself yet, you had told her, and she had adamantly agreed when you asked if she wanted to move in with you.

It was easy--existing with each other. It made it harder for you to slip into episodes in the coming months, and it helped Jenna sleep at night, knowing that she could reach over at any moment and feel your pulse beneath her fingertips.

You were put on medication two weeks later.

Jenna would keep your pills in the drawer of her nightstand and give one to you each night, and then, to be cautious, count them after you had gone to bed, just to make sure. When she always found the number she was supposed to, she would let herself relax and fall into bed with you.

You started weekly appointments with a therapist.

At first, you were a little nervous, if not a bit uncooperative. Then, you realized it actually did help, and you were making progress, and the world was becoming a little bit lighter.

A month passed. Then, six. Then, a full year.

You were getting better. You weren't there yet, not fully, but Jenna could see that things were brightening for you. She would see your eyes light up again, and your smile wouldn't hesitate as it broke across your face, and you would talk to her--really talk.

And, on nights when it was harder, when things would feel heavier on your shoulders and Jenna couldn't handle them alone, she would do the one thing she knew worked every time.

She'd call your mom. 

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #jenna x reader

[winniethewife]

The consequences that are rendered (Crosshair x F!reader)

Gif by @theworstbatch

Warnings: Angst, Hint of unrequited love, season 3 spoilers

Words: 677

“Now, there's a sight!” Wrecker’s booming voice confirms everything they had hoped, She looked at Hunter with a smile, Omega was finally home. She looks at Hunter with a smile on her face, the emotion on his face was almost overwhelming. She motioned for him to go a head.

“Go ahead, I’m right behind you.” She says softly with a smile. As he starts to the entry port they hear Wrecker speaking.

“We crossed the galaxy four times looking for you.” Wrecker’s voice is filled with tears as he put Omega down from lifting her up in the air.

“Five. But you're the one who found us.”  Hunter’s calm voice still showing the excitement he’s holding. She watched as he skipped a couple steps down to reach the young girl, her heart soars as she watches the scene unfold. The way the two of them hugged, she couldn’t be happier. Well there was one thing that could make her even happier, but she was sure that would never happen. She leans on the door frame watching the sweet reunion unfold. The tears in her eyes threatening to spill over. 

“But how did you escape?” Hunter asked as he looks at the blonde clone girl with affection.  

“I had help.” She said and as they all looked to the ship the sight nearly brought her to her knees. It was like seeing a ghost.  Crosshair disembarking the ship, she couldn’t believe her eyes. After a moment of bewildered silence she started to walk over to him, she was stopped by Hunters hand on her shoulder. She looks back at him silently pleading with him. She needed to see for herself, needed to know for sure. Hunter nods his face worried but understanding. As she walks on Hunters hand runs down her arm until he touches her hand, holding it for a second before letting go, she was never his to loose, but they had been through so much together, he had hoped… but as she walked over to his brother, He knew, his fingers finally pulled from his grasp.

“Crosshair.” Her voice filled with pain. “Its…its been awhile.” He couldn’t look her in the eye. He had done something unforgivable. He didn’t deserve to look at her. to see the love in her eyes that somehow remained after all this time. She put her hand gently on his face, gently guiding his eyes to hers, as he reluctantly followed her actions he choked up. It was almost too much, seeing her face again after all this time.

“It has…Its…It’s been too long. cyar’ika” He says the name with soft affection, in a way he hasn’t heard his own voice sound in so long he doesn’t even recognize it. He hesitates at her touch, he feels like he doesn’t deserve her affection after everything he put her through, but his need to feel her overpowers his doubts he puts his hand over hers and nuzzles in to her hand, letting the soft feeling of her hand and her familiar scent fill his senses. She smiled with tears in her eyes, running her thumb over his cheek, treasuring the feeling of him. Crosshair closes his eyes, wanting to savor the moment.

“I’m…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. ” He mutters, he doesn’t know what else to say, he dosen’t believe he is worth forgiveness. Before he can try to say another thing, he is surprised by the feeling of her lips on his, the taste of her flooding his mouth, the feeling was everything he remembered, everything he missed, everything he had dreamed about. He thinks od those nights he stared at the celling of his cell thinking of this moment. He wraps one arm around her waist and pulls her in closer as he kisses her back, with more intense passion, his other hand on her upper back, holding her close. She’s surprised at first, letting out a little shocked sound before matching his passion, both her hands holding his face between them.

He was home.

He was finally home.

~

Masterlist

#star wars #the bad batch #tbb crosshair #tbb #star wars the bad batch #the bad batch season 3 #tbb season 3 #clone force 99 #tbb spoilers #tbb fanfiction #the bad batch x reader #the bad batch crosshair #crosshair x reader #crosshair x you #f!reader #star wars month #may the 4th #Spotify #a different approach

[myouicieloz]

Tell me why

Minatozaki Sana x member!reader

Synopsis: The hate, the pressure, the shows... doing it all while recovering has been getting to you. Yet, you can't seem to rely on your sisters like you used to.

Warnings: reader is recovering from an od episode. mentions of drinking. angst? it sure is something. tw: overd0se, recovery.

Word count: 1.7k

Notes: -

Pt. 1 | Pt.2 | Pt.3 | Pt.4 | Pt.5

“Unnie?” Sana turns and finds you looking at her rather hesitantly, making her heart hurt. You haven’t been talking to each other as much these days… She’s been busy with the crazy routines of the tour and her debut, and just living overall, and you guys were a part of a big group, so it wasn’t odd that you two hadn’t been as close as before. She misses you, though. You’re the maknae, the girls’ little sister. You’re wearing a green dress for today’s event, one Sana knows it’s your favorite. Your hair has been straightened and is falling up to your hips, with big earrings flowing beautifully with your soft makeup and equally enchanting doll eyes. With a traditional green converse on, you look flawless. Yet, you have the resemblance Sana has seen many times before, lips quivering ever so slightly and your gaze never resting on something for more than a few seconds— one of your signs of showing when something’s wrong. “Hi darling. What happened?” Sana asks, tugging your arm and gently scanning you to check on any possible injuries; nothing’s noticeable, though. But again, the main problem has never been your outside.

You look at both sides before taking a step closer, not eyeing her as you speak. With both of you close like this, your height difference is noticeable, as is your attitude. The older, shorter one with assurance and confidence while the tallest, lithe girl stands quietly besides her, shrinking like she wanted to disappear. “I… I don’t feel so good. Perhaps I’ll leave? You can all handle it without me, sure.” Sana knows it’s against the rules to leave you alone, she really does. But you’re her baby sister, and you’ve promised to do no harm to yourself anymore. Your eyes are tired, and you tremble, clinging softly onto her like you were silently saying please. However, the pictures will be taken shortly, and all the girls should be present— you included. The image of the group together— specially after the rumors regarding you, is essential. Image is everything. “Could you wait a bit more? We’ll get the pictures taken soon, then I’ll take you home.” Sana sees it as she gently asks you to stay, the hurt flashing into your eyes. You know she is still wary of leaving you alone, after that night, not trusting you completely. So, you take a step back, nodding delicately. Before Sana can say anything else, someone taps her shoulder. “Sana unnie! I was looking everywhere for you. Where have you been? Come on, the fashion show about to start. I saved you a seat.” It’s Miyeon, smiling at Sana while exhaling in relief. When the older woman looks behind again, you’re gone. She lets her shoulders fall as she allows Miyeon to guide her to their seats, wishing she wasn’t such a failure. What happened to you? You used to be so close, with her taking care of you ever since you’ve first set your foot at JYP— guiding and comforting you whenever things were tough. That was gone long before the… incident, though. Now, you barely see each other, even though you were constantly near because of the tour. Sana misses you. Your sweet smile, your passionate conversations about stuff you both liked, the way you always used to ask to get her makeup done, refusing anyone’s help but hers. All gone now. Sana was such a failure.

— The pictures, both of the group and individuals, will be taken soon, Sana knows it as she observes the sudden movement in front of the fancy stand. She sees the girls not far from her; Jihyo talking to Dahyun on her left, while Momo sits with Mina on her right. Jeongyeon will be here shortly, as she went to greet a friend just before the show ended, and the rest of the girls were near enough that she could see what they were doing, too. You were the only one who was nowhere to be seen. Whose thoughts can be impulsive and too dangerous to be left unsupervised. If you fuck up the photoshoot, your management will be furious, and you’ll be in even more trouble. So, Sana excuses herself from the rest of her bandmates and scans the darkest spots she can observe, walking fast to waste no time. The woman’s phone buzzes brightly, with her leader’s name displayed on the screen. Is Yn with you yet? We’ll take the group pics soon, but I can’t see her.

No signs of her. She can’t be too far, though. It’s not like it’s a massive place anyway.

Want me to go looking for her, too?

I don’t think it’s best; it might overwhelm her.

Wait, I think I’ve seen her, actually. We’ll be back soon.

Text me if you need any extra help, ok?

“Aren’t you coming, Sana? the girls are all together, over there.” She hears her friend, Somi ask as she passes by and sees her worried face, frowning. “I still have to find Y/n. Have you seen her after the fashion show started?” Somi has mischief on her face and giggles a bit before answering. “Yeah, haven’t you? Like always, she was with that shithead as her escort. I seriously don’t know how he does her so good, he’s an asshole. Everybody knows it”. Wait, who was she talking about? You weren’t hooking up with anybody, Sana’s sure of it. She would have noticed it, of course. Right? Or at least heard something about it. Her mouth moved before she could, suddenly forgetting of her shortage of time. “With whom?” Somi opened her eyes as her hand met her mouth, suddenly turning and walking away quickly. Sana managed to hear her mumbling incoherent stuff, but decided to let her go. She’d handle it later, definitely. You owed her some questions. Urgent questions. “Fucker.” Sana cursed, walking in a different direction, hoping to find you soon. — Precious minutes went by and nothing, still.

She could feel her phone vibrating with people demanding her presence at the photoshoot, but she refused to come back without her maknae. It had to be the whole group, or it wouldn’t be the same, even if you were hiding from God knows what. Sana decided to go to the bathroom to wash her face for a bit, since it was ridiculously hot inside the event. Then, she noticed green converse shoes on a cabinet, as if someone was sitting on the ground. Someone wearing a green dress. Ok. “Yn? Is everything okay?” She asked softly, hurrying closer with light steps. An alarm rang in her head and she immediately started breathing fast, thinking of a hundred scenarios. The last time things were similar to this, the ending was not… ideal. The dor opened and revealed you, sitting weakly on the side of the toilet seat, which would be disgusting if you weren’t so pale, your hands shaking much more now and your forehead drenched with sweat. Sana immediately knelt in front of you, noticing your fever. “I didn’t mean to, unnie, I really didn’t. It was just…” Wet tears were running down her baby sister’s sweet face; making her feel like shit. She’d known it. You asked for fucking help, and she ignored it. Setting her heart aside, she gestured for you to take deep breaths, touching your hair affectionately. “It’s okay, darling, it’s okay. Did you take anything? Did you…” She couldn’t say it, still. Thankfully, you got the message and shook your head, making her a tiny bit less worried. She let out a relived sigh. At least you didn’t succumb again. “I ate some chocolate sweets they were having. It was just a bite of one, and they seemed… so good. I thought if I just had a little bite, it’d…. I’d feel better.” Your voice was weak, too, and you let out a dry laugh. “Obviously, it wasn’t the case. My body’s still not ready, I know. I’ll respect my time of recovering. It just, sucks, you know?” You don’t let Sana answer, looking at the ceiling. This time, your voice’s bitter. “What am I saying; of course you don’t. You know nothing of being less than perfect.”

Once again, Sana stopped to focus on her baby maknae. Sana believed her when you had told them the attempt was an accident. She truly did. Not only that, but she also knew of how you were doing everything you could to prove to everyone you were better and recovered. Going to therapy, exercising, eating healthier, being extra patient… almost seeming good, despite people treating you like crystal glass. Because of that, Sana didn’t really wonder about how you still had to be careful about things that were normal to the rest of them. Seeing you crying and being vulnerable like this made her hate herself even more.

“I’m sorry, darling.” It was all she could offer, pulling you for a hug. She was surprised to have you clinging onto her as you burst out crying, like you did as a trainee, after being yelled at by one of your stupid mentors, who were always so hard on you. It felt like millions of knives were entering her heart, and she wished so fucking much that you didn’t have to feel that pain. Wished it was hers instead.

“Shhh, it’s okay. It’s okay.” She murmured, rocking you back and forth to keep you from shaking. After what seemed like minutes, you did. Then, you dried your tears and looked at her with a faint smile and a long sigh. “I’m sorry for that, unnie. Did the photoshoot happen already?“

Still confused, Sana answered quickly, observing the youngest get up and fix her dress, going to the sink to wash her mouth and hands.

“Huh… no. They’re waiting for us. We’re just a bit late.“ “Perfect. Let’s go?” You went to the door without looking back, and all Sana could do was follow your lead. And blame herself for being such a failure to you.

#sana x reader #sana x yn #twice imagines #twice x y/n #twice x you #minatozaki sana x reader #minatozaki sana x yn #twice angst #sana angst #twice sana #twice x reader #kpop #kpop x reader #kpop angst #sol writes #sol’s works

[llovelymoonn]

favourite poems of january

christian wiman hard night: "the ice storm"

timothy donnelly hymn to life

randall jarrell the complete poems: "the lost world"

dana levin the living teaching

stuart dybeck brass knuckles: "the knife-sharpener's daughter"

kofi awoonor the promise of hope: new and selected poems: "lament of the silent sisters"

bruce snider ode to a dolly parton drag queen

jon pineda birthmark: "translation"

brenda shaughnessy interior with sudden joy: "dear gonglya"

franny choi hangul abecedarian

atsuro riley hutch

clark moore strikes and gutters

jenny xie eye level: "rootless"

alberto ríos the smallest muscle in the human body: "rabbits and fire"

tim seibles mosaic

anthony hecht an offering for patricia

harry matthews cool gales shall fan the glades

robert glück the word in us: lesbian and gay poetry of the next wave: "burroughs"

albert goldbarth the poem of the little house at the corner of misapprehension and marvel

george seferis collected poems (george seferis): "spring a.d."

alberto ríos a small story about the sky

sharmila voorakkara for the tattooed man

robin blaser the holy forest: collected poems of robin blaser: "the truth is laughter 10"

robert pinsky gulf music: "antique"

henri cole blackbird and wolf: "twilight"

paul violi likewise: "in praise of idleness"

ron padgett collected poems: "what are you on?"

meena alexander birthplace with buried stones: "lychees"

sara borjas decolonial self-portrait

valerie martínez absence, luminescent: "the reliquaries"

kathryn simmonds the visitations: "in the woods"

kofi

#tbr #tbr list #poetry #poet #poets #poem #poems #to read #poetry recs #christiam wiman #timothy donnell #randall jarrell #the complete poems #the lost world #hymn to life #the ice storm #hard night #stuart dybeck #the knife-sharpener's daughter #brass knuckles #dana levin #the living teaching #kofi awoonor #the promise of hope #the promise of hope: new and selected poems #lament of the silent sisters #january #bruce snider #ode to a dolly parton drag queen #jon pineda

[hausbabylon]

distant star

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word count: 3,428

A/N: Age Of Ultron Wanda because asdkghjksñlfñ why not?!

Warnings: Angst, unspoken feelings, you name it!

Pietro Maximoff recognized talent wherever he saw it, and that's how he made you a member of the band whose lead vocalist and guitarist was his twin sister Wanda Maximoff. Not knowing how or when, all the songs you wrote ended up being about her.

"Alright, let's go over it again."

You rolled your eyes and let out a dramatic sigh, pretending to be annoyed at the brunette's request.

"Don't look at me, look at Pietro who completely messed up in the second verse!" Wanda exclaimed defensively, as she raised her arms in a mock surrender.

"But sing louder, I could run a marathon with the distance you set between you and the microphone!" He protested.

"Oh, shush!" Wanda exclaimed. "It's not about whether I sing loud or not, it's about your bass following a certain pattern and be guided by my guitar! Every time I play this chord, you must follow me..."

You laughed lightly at the little argument that was going on between the twins for maybe the third time throughout the rehearsal. It had barely been twenty minutes.

"Come on, guys!" You interjected. "If you keep arguing this frequently, night will fall, and you know how my mom is when it comes to noise."

Your house possessed a spacious and ideal garage that was perfect for a band to spent its beginnings with. Because of this, you generously offered your house as a rehearsal space most of the time.

However, there was a slight hitch in this arrangement. Your mother, like the Tess Coleman character straight out of one of your favore movies "Freaky Friday", she had the habit of turning off the power switch in the garage as soon as night time came.

Both Wanda and Pietro stopped their argument, and exchanged one last accusatory look, almost as if to say, "You are to blame."

"Clint, you count..." Wanda turned to the drummer, and subsequently, he gathered his drumsticks and did the counting.

You weren't sure how or when you started to sense this, but you knew it when you noticed that you stopped looking down at your guitar and instead, kept your eyes on her, and memorized every gesture she tended to make; frowning or wrinkling her nose during high notes, closing her eyes throughout the whole melody, moving her heel to the sound of her guitar, and your favorite one, when she opened her eyes just to dedicate you glances of approval every time you did a solo with your guitar.

You thought maybe it was the energy and passion Wanda put into every note, as you marveled at the way she gave herself completely to the music, but you realized it was beyond admiration when every song you wrote ended up being a loving ode to every aspect that made her up. Even when you tried to write a funny song about partying, you somehow ended up redirecting it to the woman next to you.

"And so I watch you from afar, like a distant star...

For I'll always love you, but you'll never know...

Ink and paper, my silent confidantes they are…

They seem to whisper, 'Your secret's safe,' as emotions flow..."

Wanda concluded the last song you wrote for her, and this time, it turned out incredibly. You knew it when she let out that sigh of satisfaction that only happened when neither of you messed up a note.

"Another love song, and we don't know your muse," Clint commented, placing his drumsticks on the snare drum.

"I don't have a muse," you excused yourself, and as if it were instinct, you looked at Wanda, who was very busy tuning her guitar.

"I don’t believe you," Pietro stated, as he placed his left arm around your shoulder, while his free hand held the neck of his bass as it rested on his side.

"Come on, I just... write whatever comes to mind," you shrugged. "I don't think of anyone specific, and they don't mean anything."

Both Pietro and Clint scoffed in disbelief, clearly not buying your attempt to brush off their accusation.

“Come on, there has to be some-…” Pietro said.

“Enough,” Wanda interrupted him, and you sighed in relief, sending a thankful look her way. “Whether there is a muse or not, you have every right to tell us when you feel like it. And if that day never comes, that’s okay too,” she added.

“Thank you, Wanda!” You exclaimed, emphasizing those three words as you glanced at your two male bandmates, who were very nosy about your love life.

Pietro withdrew his arm from around your shoulders, but not before giving you a little nudge to annoy you for being spared further questions.

"Now, do you have your three song suggestions for the setlist?" The brunette changed the subject.

In a month's time, perhaps the biggest presentation you would have so far would take place, as a well-known bar gave you a space, and besides, it was going to be Halloween. The four of you were excited, and very determined to seriously connect with the audience, and not just be a very irrelevant background noise for people who were only focused on getting drunk.

After having rehearsed your own songs for a week straight, it was time to focus on the covers. Each of the band members had the right to suggest three songs to elaborate the setlist for this presentation, and you would be the first to make your choice known.

"Break In by Halestorm and Amy Lee," Wanda read the first title, and nodded with a smile. "Things I'll Never Say by Avril Lavigne," she continued. "Oh! Lovesong by The Cure?!”

"Yes..." you said in a hesitant tone.

"Are we seeing the same person who for the last show made us play Angel's Punishment by Lacuna Coil?" Clint exclaimed from his seat, while laughing.

"Oh! My throat still hurts from doing those gutturals," Pietro seconded, rubbing his throat in a dramatic manner.

"Lacuna Coil is an excellent band," you justified.

"And Pietro, you insisted on doing those gutturals, when I could have done them Maria Brink style," Wanda added. "Speaking of which, how about Scarlet by In This Moment? It's among my suggestions actually..." she changed the subject again, to evade another interrogation towards you.

And so, with each passing rehearsal afternoon, your feelings for Wanda became more and more unbearable, and thus, more and more noticeable.

So notorious, that Pietro and Clint were fully aware that all those songs you couldn't stop writing were about her. And therefore, their insistence was no longer about you revealing the identity of your muse, instead, their new goal was to convince you to confess to her.

"(Y/N), my little sister would melt for you just by knowing that you wrote songs for her," Pietro tried to persuade you, following you into the kitchen of your house with the excuse of helping you carry ice for the drinks you would take to the garage.

"And what if she doesn't? What if she finds me weird?" You countered. "She had zero interest in knowing who the person I was writing for was."

"Exactly!" Pietro exclaimed, clearly seeing it from a different point of view than you.

And more of these conversations took place whenever Wanda wasn't around, and to say you were fed up was an understatement.

You were afraid to risk the beautiful, deep-rooted friendship that had blossomed between you and the brunette, ever since Pietro introduced her to you seven months ago and said: "I got us a rythm guitarist."

So frequent became those sleepovers where you would listen to your favorite music, watch classic movies from the 2000s, and have deep conversations until two in the morning. Pietro would jump at the bed at early hours in the morning, asking Wanda to make him pancakes since he was nice enough to give up the TV so you guys could use it.

She also had a sixth sense that seemed to provide her the ability to appear when you needed her the most, as your eyes would sparkle with excitement every time you heard the doorbell ring and subsequently saw Wanda from your window with a basket full of both of you guys' favorite snacks, and her guitar in hand, which meant she would take you to the park to compose songs in a notebook you shared, with the purpose of distracting you from whatever happened that day. Even though the notebook you wrote in didn't have a single free space, and was full of scratches and notes, you didn't have the heart to throw it away.

That was just the tip of the iceberg. That was why it frustrated you that your male bandmates would take so lightly something as delicate as telling your best friend that you were head over heels in love with her, so you clung to your secret love, treasuring it like a fragile shadow that resided within you.

And so, the big day came. Pietro, Clint, Wanda and you took your positions on the small stage in the bar. Within the crowd, you noticed a few familiar faces, and a feeling of happiness invaded you as you realizes that you were slowly reaching a point where you could say you had a few loyal fans already.

"Good evening, everyone!" Wanda's accent added a little bit of allure to her words, drawing everyone's attention. "Thank you for joining us tonight!"

And with that, the first song started, as soon as Clint counted in with a rhythmic tap of his drumsticks.

As you gracefully played your guitar along with Wanda's, you couldn't tear your gaze away from her. You remembered vividly how the light casted a mesmerizing glow around her, and she always maintained those little habits while she performed, not to mention that astonishing voice of hers, that could go from raspy to high pitched, from sorrowful to joyful in a matter of seconds.

You didn't care if the entire audience noticed the intensity of your gaze. In fact, you were proud to declare, even silently, that you were deeply in love with Wanda Maximoff. The passionate emotion in your lyrics seemed to resonate even more as she poured her heart into every word, and there you realized that, even mindlessly, the brunette seemed to understand your feelings more than anyone else.

"I want you to meet the incredibly talented musicians who make up this band," Wanda said as soon as the audience finished applauding, her enthusiasm made you smile automatically. "On main guitar, we have the amazing (Y/N)," she gestured towards you, and you did a small reverence as everyone cheered you with applause and whistles. "On bass, my twin brother Pietro, who's older by thirteen minutes... so whenever he brags about being the older sibling, just remember, it's only by thirteen minutes!" She joked, and Pietro burst out in laughter as he also greeted at the public with a wide grin plastered on his face. "On drums, we have the talented Clint!" She gestured towards the drummer's way, and he stood up as he waved at everyone. "And... I'm Wanda, the rythm guitarist and vocalist."

The evening continued, and so far, all those rehearsals had been worth it, for there were a considerable number of people jumping and clapping animatedly, and for every time you looked away from Wanda to look at the audience, it seemed as if the number doubled.

Until it came time to introduce the last song you had written about the woman next to you.

It held a significance to you beyond comprehension, and although you had seen her rehearse it multiple times, there was something different about that night that was going to make it more magical than the other times.

"The next song was written by my beloved rhythm guitarrist," Wanda said into the microphone, and the entire audience clapped and whistled in a form of support for you. "I always thought it was a beautiful song, but now I can say that this one has a face, and... a name," she added, and again, everyone in the audience applauded. You turned to face Pietro, who shrugged, and as you turned to face Clint, he looked as confused as you.

"This last song I would like to dedicate to my dear Vision, the man who I have secretly loved for so long, and two weeks ago, he came to me and confessed what I thought impossible, he reciprocated."

It felt as if as if a thousand swords pierced right towards your heart, shattering it into a million pieces as her words echoed through the room.

Every memory you shared with Wanda came crashing down upon you, each one of them feeling like a heavy brick that fell over you, until they slowly buried you. You thought, only in death was it possible to experience such a thing, but you were wrong, the agony of heartbreak was just as overwhelming.

"There you are... hi, darling!" She giggled, and Vision shyly laughed as he greeted the public around him.

You glanced at his direction, and there he was, with his blonde hair and glasses, the man who took everything from you... but objectively talking, he was simply the man who took the chance you always took for granted, and therefore, you ended up missing.

But even then, you forced yourself to swallow your heart that was threatening to come out of your throat, and began to play the corresponding chords. You hadn't invested so many weeks of dedication for a moment of weakness to make you throw away all that effort.

"And so I watch you from afar, like a distant star...

For I'll always love you, but you'll never know...

Ink and paper, my silent confidantes they are…

They seem to whisper, 'Your secret's safe,' as emotions flow..."

Somehow, you were grateful for that small work of mercy that the universe had for you, as you didn't know how you would have survived if you had not chosen this song as the closing song.

As soon as you left the stage, you made your way to the outside of the bar, almost hoping that your feelings were an object that you could simply forget about in there, but the reality was that they were chasing you until you drowned.

"(Y/N)?" You heard Pietro's voice, behind you, and you ran to him desperately seeking comfort, like a soul in sorrow that had just been banished from all that could have been a valley of angels.

As soon as you felt the warmth of his body, you burst into tears. It wasn't just the pain that Wanda had found someone else, but the fact that she had taken something as sacred as words spoken from the most vulnerable part of your heart and addressed them to another individual as if they were a crumbled piece of paper that she could toss, not caring where it landed.

"I swear I had no idea," Pietro whispered, stroking your head as he rested his chin on your head. "Vision was a family friend, but she never gave any signs, never mentioned anything..."

The older twin's shirt was stained with your tears, as the merciless cold threatened to freeze you both right there, but despite the multiple signals your body was sending through shivering and shuddering sighs, you remained in the same place letting the silence of the street drag with it your sobs and wails for a love that was never yours.

Pietro took you home after an hour, and embraced you, while your tears clouded your sight until it was completely obscured, making you fall into a deep sleep, as if your body had taken pity on you and knocked you out to mitigate the pain that was eating away at you.

The next day, Clint arrived with boats of ice cream in an attempt to cheer you, and comforted you as much as physically possible. Each one of them, in their unique way, seemed willing to take every piece of you and put it back together, like you were their very own human kintsugi, making you even more resilient than you were before the chaos shattered you.

Wanda showed up after a week, her patience worn thin by the deafening silence that had persisted ever since what was supposed to be your big night. Her concern for you had grown, and she couldn't stand the thought of her messages going unanswered any longer.

"Hey," she greeted you, and judging by her smile, she seemed so oblivious that it somehow relieved you. Even in the midst of all your sorrow, all you wanted was for her to choose her own path of happiness even if it was one that didn't involve you as her partner.

Yes, you wanted to be part of her journey, maybe like a distant star yet so shiny it could be perceived even from 150 million kilometers apart. And in that moment, your love for her manifested itself more than in any song you could ever have written, because you decided to withdraw and pretend that your heart was not shattered, just so that hers could beat unbound.

"Hey, listen, I was not ignoring you, it's just that I am having the worst migraines lately, perhaps for the cold..." you excused yourself.

"I know," she said, her tone telling it all. She knew. "I know everything."

Pietro... who else could it be?

Two simple words that you have heard before through different contexts were able to thwart the fragile equilibrium you had acquired, for that was the first thing that started a fury within your being, and it wasn't the fact that Pietro had exposed you.

"Hey, hey, calm down..." Wanda quickly exclaimed, interrupting your train of thought. You blinked a couple of times, and your vision was blurred, indicating that you were starting to cry.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" You exclaimed, as you sobbed. "I just... I don't know how or why it happened, I'm so sorry," you apologized in a desperate plea for understanding.

You felt the need to apologize, because you felt as if being in love with Wanda was a transgression against your friendship, a condemnation to put it to an end.

She captured you in her arms, and naturally, you weakened at her touch, as you did with her and no one else. It was maybe something you could not comprehend, but it always felt as if there wasn't a point where you ended and Wanda started, therefore, the weight on your shoulders distributed itself so it would be a little more bearable. 

"I have this habit of being negative to no end, so I don't let myself down by getting my hopes up so high," Wanda spoke, once she allowed you to let out everything you had stuck, because she knew very well that you needed it. "I wanted to believe that those songs were about me, but.... what if they weren't? So I kept telling myself constantly that they were about someone else. And it hurt. It hurt just imagining it, and I was where you are now."

In that moment, it felt like the world had ceased to turn. You couldn't believe what you had just heard. Wanda, the woman you had secretly loved, was confessing that she had feelings for you too. It was a revelation that seemed too surreal to be true, and your mind struggled to process it.

Before you could find the right words to answer her, she continued, "I never saw my brother as furious with me as he was after that night," the brunette confessed, sighing. "He asked me, 'Why Vision? You're lying to yourself', and he said I didn't deserve that love song you wrote about me, as I dedicated it to a man that I don't love. In response, I kept insisting that all those songs weren't for me, and that the best thing to do was to try to move on, convince myself that Vision was the safer option, even if I knew in my heart that you were the right option..." she paused. "Out of frustration, he told me everything. And I'm sorry, so sorry, because Pietro is right, I don't deserve to..."

You stopped her right there, and crashed yous lips with hers.

There. The wait was over, and in that perfect, heart-stopping moment, everything fell into place.

She reciprocated immediately, and you could feel her firm grip on your waist. You felt a deep pleasure due to the culmination of unspoken feelings, but overall, you knew you finally had found home in Wanda's lips when the kiss felt more natural than anything else.

"It's just one song," you whispered softly against her parted lips. "I can always write more."

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #marvel #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen x reader

[maryhale1]

The Night 🌚 NYX

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

In shadows deep, where night does reign,

Goddess Nyx, a celestial bane.

Stars her jewels, the moon her guide,

In darkness, beauty shall abide.

A tapestry of dreams unfurls,

As Nyx, the cosmic fabric swirls.

Cloaked in mystery, veiled in grace,

She weaves the threads of time and space.

Silent whispers in the dark,

Her presence leaves a mystic mark.

Nocturnal queen, with power vast,

In Nyx's embrace, shadows cast.

A symphony of shadows, a ballet of the night,

Goddess Nyx, in celestial flight.

In cosmic dance, her essence weaves,

An ode to her, the night receives.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

#witchcraft #dark academia #witchy #witch aesthetic #witchblr #witches #witch community #witch #witchcore #goddess nyx #wiccan #witchy vibes #night #night goddess #paganblr #witchy poem #dark goddess #goddess poem #circe goddess #war goddess #goddess #wichy vibes #wiccablr #wiccalife #pagan wicca #wicca #dianic wicca #wicca aesthetic #eclectic wicca #wicca witch

[bunwritesss]

Ode to Sleep

Summary: You cannot sleep. Maybe because the bed in the cells are uncomfortable as hell. Maybe because you're scared. Or maybe because you got used to sleep with Daryl at the Farm, and you're not used to sleeping alone anymore. Whatever the reason is, a certain hunter cannot sleep either, and will make sure to make the night at least a little more fun for you.

Genre: Fluff 💕

A/N: Hiiii everyone!! 💕Here's another oneshot inspired by a Twenty One Pilots song, I'm really going to do both of my favorite albums by them I think! Tell me if you have any ideas for the songs from Vessel and Heavydirtysoul as Daryl x Reader prompts, I'd love to hear them <3

You were currently sitting on the awfully hard bed of your awfully small cell, knees against your chest and wobbly arms carefully wrapped around you, sheltering you from the rest of the prison. You had tried to sleep for hours, counting sheeps and trying to work on your breathing, but being alone in such a small room made you slightly claustrophobic. So you gave up, waiting for the sun to rise again. It was too dark outside to read.

'Can't sleep?'

A voice outside of your room startled you, Daryl's silhouette standing at the entrance of your cell. He did not enter it, careful not to scare you. You nodded, and then realized he probably couldn't see you, so you responded in a loud whisper.

'Yup. You too?' 'Wanna come outside with me?' He ignored your question.

You immediatly rose to your feet, happy to have a distraction. Daryl was one of your favorite members of the group. Although he did not talk much, nor was always agreeable, he always knew how to make sure everyone was healthy, and to show his affection to the people he loved. You noticed he stopped snapping at you as soon as he realized you seemed more affected by it than the others, and he often brought you a little trinket from his runs. The blue scrunchie you wore on your wrist, snapping it to distract yourself from the oppressing room, was one of those gifts. It was a fact, Daryl Dixon was a softie.

He waited for you to join him at the entrance, slowly walking to the entrance of the prison. The chill air of the court made you regret the sheets you used as a blanket, slightly shivering. You followed Daryl to a patch of grass near the building where your group set camp, and sat next to him. You watched as he lit himself a cigaret, not bothering offering you one anymore.

You stayed in silence for a few minutes, Daryl enjoying his cigaret and you enjoying Daryl's presence. Being outside made all of the tension in your body disappear, and you let out a sigh of contentment when you smelled nicotine in the air. The air smelled familiar now.

'I hate feeling caged.' You said, both for yourself and for Daryl. 'Me too.' He simply replied, toying with the cigaret.

Its burning orange end danced in the dark, hypnotizing you and your tired brain. As you were still shivering, you took your arms out of the oversized T-shirt you were wearing, wrapping them around yourself. The move made Daryl chuckle.

'We can go back if yer cold?' He offered kindly. 'Nah, being outside is what I needed, no worries. I'm feeling warmer already.'

And you weren't lying. As you rubbed your arms, you felt warmth coming back to your body. You felt every blade of grass, every blow on the wind on your body, and smiled. You needed this.

'How did you know I wasn't asleep?' 'Ya sleeptalk. And ya can't sleep sittin' down.' 'I sleeptalk?'

You felt your cheeks becoming red. He nodded, taking another drag of his cigaret.

'What do I talk about?'

He shrugged.

'Said ya talked, not that ya did make any sense.'

You snorted, relieved. God knows what you could have told in your sleep... You couldn't help but shiver again, and this time he hesitantly rubbed your back.

'Can I move closer to you? I swear you're like a furnace or something!'

He silently thanked the obscurity for preventing you from seeing the blush on his cheeks, and you felt him nod. So you cuddled at his side, arms still inside your shirt, as he brought an arm against your shoulders. Your trembling form slowly calmed down.

'Better?' 'Yes. Thank you so much.'

You smiled at him, although he couldn't see him, taking a breath in. He smelt like a forest. Forest and nicotine, and you instantly forgot the awful air of the prison. You closed your eyes, focusing on his heartbeat.

'Daryl? Why can't you sleep?' You asked him kindly, comfortable against him.

He shrugged.

'Dunno.' 'Is it because you feel trapped too?' 'Yeah, must be that.' He grumbled, and you nodded thoughtfully. 'It sucks.' 'Yeah.'

Feeling bold, as you knew Daryl would not have woken up anyone besides Carol or you, and eventually Rick, to share a night outside, you decided to take one of his hands between yours, and he surprisingly let you without any complaint. You toyed with his fingers, rubbed circles on his scarred knuckles as you both enjoyed the calm of the night. He seemed to enjoy what you were doing, his curious eyes squinting in the direction of your hands. His cigaret was now done, and he stuffed it in his pocket with his free hand, before putting his arm back around your shoulder.

'Daryl?'

You were now toying with your scrunchie, trapping both of your hands inside it, softly snapping it against your wrists. He did not respond but you knew he was listening. And you felt particularly brave, during this beautiful night.

'Would you be okay if we shared a bed, in the prison?'

You did not give him time to answer, immediatly rambling as to make his rejection easier to accept for you.

'I mean, you don't have to because now we have as many beds as we want, but we got used to sleeping together at the Quarry, and then at the farm, and I just... I don't know, I feel comfortable with you, but if you would rather sleep alone I-' 'Y/N.' He interrupted you softly, and you gave him your whole attention, a bit worried. 'I would not have woken ya up if I didn't want to spend time with ya.'

Your panicked state when you were afraid you were making people uncomfortable always made him chuckle. You always took everyone's feelings into account, and that was probably one of the reasons why it had been so easy for you to befriend him. He knew you did not fake your kindness.

'You mean you'd like to share a bed with me?'

He nodded, weirdly comfortable with the idea. And you beamed, your eyes twinkling.

'Then I would love for us to go back to bed, because I am freezing out there!'

You got up first, giving him your hand to help him get up. He took it, and you did not let go of it as you walked back to the prison, a small smile on both of your flushed faces. You were both convinced you would finally spend a restful night, now. And it felt amazing.

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #the walking dead #twd #the walking dead imagine

[ay0nha]

hello xx

Are you plannnig on doing a part two to ode to ruination? It is so good! you are fantastic

An Ode to Temptation | T.S.

PAIRING: Tommy Shelby x f!reader

WORD COUNT: 1.3K

WARNINGS: canon-typical things, talk of food/eating, Angst, smooches, guns being pointed, angst, drinking/being drunk, etc.

A/N: Hello!! I actually received A LOT of requests for this, which thank you all so much for the love!! I thought about it and Tried to write something, but I just wasn't feeling it AT ALL or as an ~ official ~ part II. BUT, I'll post the Rough Draft here.

Be kind; she's all over the place with rushed ideas/unedited/unfinished parts. Comments are always welcomed. Enjoy.

You were a master of speaking silently—you've spoken silently all your life, and you’ve had to live through entire tragedies because of it. However, once the yelling and failed attempts to leave wore out, it had become weeks of the same; the days held a repetitive blandness.

Your mornings were spent isolated, the overwhelming echo of the estate’s silence guiding you. The loneliness didn’t seep in until the afternoon when the rain forbade you from stepping past the door frame. However, the nights were unbearable. Even if you didn’t see or hear when Tommy came home, you could feel how the walls groaned at his presence.

You knew the maids whispered; you would, too, in their position. Nothing explained your sudden presence or what felt like your lack thereof. If anything, you were the ghost that haunted the house.

For your own good, you were told.

Tommy had fooled you that night. The party was performative, a distraction while he sent someone for your things. If Ada had known, you don’t doubt she would have tried to stop him. Or at least bought you some time. However, if she had realized your life was in danger, she would have already bought your ticket to skip town. Regardless, your destiny was determined.

You comforted yourself by the fire when your thoughts became overwhelming. It warmed your feet while the gin resting precariously on the chair’s arm soothed the pit in your chest. At some point, you stopped portioning yourself a glass. Holding the bottle by the neck, you lulled yourself further into the cushion with every slug.

“Not eating now, eh?” Tommy threw down his jacket in habit, marking his entrance. The sigh that followed conveyed his annoyance.

You looked up from the fire at the intrusion. You couldn’t decide if he was earlier than usual or if the grandfather clock was lying to you. Either way, you tipped your head against the side of the chair for solace.

“You want my attention, that it? Well, you ’ave it. ” The strike of his match was motivated by agitation. On the first exhale of his newly-lit cigarette, he said, “Don’t waste it.”

Tommy’s eyes bore into yours blankly. There were other things on his mind that even you thought were more pressing. You knew he found it easier to treat you like business than anything else. Tenderness was reserved for the nights the tunnels became too claustrophobic.

“Your cook’s shite.” You mocked drunkenly.

Hailed all the way from Italy, the chef you insulted was anything but. Nor was he at fault for your lack of appetite. It was childish behavior, but everything had become tit for tat. Tommy knew what you were doing, able to lure him in with such superficial words.

The call received was passed through his secretary only to be brushed off—another complaint of your behavior. They always reflected stubbornness, the same determination as the tales of the boy who cried wolf. And yet, Tommy struggled to ignore it as it frequented.

“Right…” Tommy ceded to himself. His frustrations were in vain, and he reminded himself he could be fair. “Let’s get something in you.”

“Offering to cook, hmm?” Your eyebrows raised in genuine amusement. He knew you well enough that you craved company. “Or is that below the Thomas Shelby?”

Something swirled in his chest, but Tommy brought the cigarette to his lips to suffocate it. Yet, with his free hand, he held it out to you.

When you were children, you barely knew Tommy. To you, he was just one of the Shelbys. You often confused him for his brothers, but he became definite when you finally spoke to him. Overlapped memories crowded the logistics of the conversation, but you could never forget your appreciation for someone like him.

The memory should have been bleak; the funeral brought lightening that highlighted every tear that streamed down your mother’s face. She was an unmoveable force, and for some reason seeing your mother break changed your own grief.

Neither of you nor Tommy had the capacity to understand death the way you knew it now, but Tommy guided that grief with knowledge beyond his years. You learned to grieve someone you didn’t know you could love.

The simplicity of the action entwined your lives, but it was lost after France. Everyone, including yourself, had changed. But for the moment, eyes closed, the memory made the thought fade.

You slid onto the kitchen counter, catching how Tommy rolled his sleeve until it met his forearm.

The actuality of the situation hadn’t hit you yet until you filled the humming silence. “I barely recognize you…”

Tommy seemed content entertaining you. It was the first time you’d offered him your undivided attention. “’m all heart tonight.”

“That it?” You mused, head cocking to take him in. Your tone was deceiving, posing genuine curiosity over your inner dissent.

Tommy was attentive, though, listening even as you trailed off into mumbling. However, he remained dexterous, concocting something simple. He knew the things you held dear, the comfort you found in your childhood food.

He had even memorized the particularities of their preparation; jam spread with a spoon from left to right; sandwiches cut diagonally, warmed to be able to feel its nourishment travel down; tea so hot that the heaping amount of sugar disappeared with one stir.

Tommy slid the plate to you, a mix of what he could find that hadn’t spoiled by the end of the day. He leaned back, arms tight across his chest as he waited for you to indulge. However, you slid it back to him first.

“Didn’t poison it…” He said, picking at the plate to prove his point. You rarely witnessed his appetite outside of cigarettes and booze.

You nudged him as you extended your dangling leg. There was no thought behind the action, but the attention pulled him closer to hear your words. “And I should trust your word?”

With a sigh of your name, the food was forgotten—Tommy took the bait.

“I can’t do this anymore.” You shook your head softly, the action dizzying. Without his jacket, the skeleton of Tommy’s gun holster highlighted his frame. It made it easy to place him between your legs.

He just wanted, needed, you safe. “It’s only until things settle in—

“London.” You finished the repeated lie. “Why is that, Tommy?”

You wanted to hear his confession. You knew why people were after you; you were leverage against such an unbreakable man. However, they seemed to understand Tommy’s feelings better than you. He never said it aloud. It had been years, decades, of a mutual lure that purposefully avoided the judgment you held for Tommy’s decisions or actions, ones you never compromised with.

For him, you were it.

“Tom?” You prompted again. You could see his struggle to form an admission even in your state.

Tommy broke.

He caved into you, your lips meeting his hesitantly but meeting with a longed-for firmness. Each time he pulled away, he only returned with more tenderness—the breaks between lessened, and so did the distance between your chests.

You almost got lost in something you spent years yearning for. However, you moved slowly in the way you knew would distract him. With the first layer of his guard down, the leather straps of his gun holster caught on your fingertips as you trailed along his shoulders. His body was yours; his shudder proved so.

Yet, once you hit metal, Tommy’s laugh mocked your insincerity.

You expected your hands to tremble. You hoped they would see if you had any trace of regret in the action. However, it felt freeing to rest Tommy's gun just below his chin. In your hands, it grew warm, a transferable heat of anticipation waiting for its purpose only you could provide.

Tommy's grip on you remained firm at the hips, lips still ghosting your own as he turned your threat into his own. “Go on, then. I taught you well."

#q #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x f!reader #tommy shelby angst #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fluff #tommy shelby smut #thomas shelby #thomas shelby fic #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fic #peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #personal #ask #anon #cillian murphy x reader

[dsybouquet]

nine while nine - ellie williams

“and the lipstick on my cigarettes, frost upon the window pane. nine while nine and i’m waiting for the train.”

cw: smoking, mention of smoking weed, mention of od’s (just tiny not related to ellie or reader at all !!), neither angsty nor happy, ellie and reader talking the whole time, no real story to follow

„Fuck this.“, Ellie sweared to herself, watching her train pass by.

Of course she had to miss the earliest train home after a late shift. It being already 9pm, she dropped onto a bench, lighting up a cigarette carelessly.

She had a shitty day and missing the train was the cherry on top. Nevertheless, she couldn’t change her situation. Could only get better from here on, she thought.

Slumbed on that bench, she pulled her scarf closer around her neck. The months kept on getting colder and colder as winter approached. To her surprise snow wasn’t falling yet - perhaps a good sign.

Ellie silently watched the people, though there were hardly any. Most of them appeared to be students that drove home after uni, standing in the cold alongsides homeless people begging for money to buy booze and food - hoping to find a warm place to spend the night in.

„What a sad world we live in.“, a voice said next to her. Ellies head turned and next to her sat a girl, lips painted in blood red lipstick, eyes tired.

„The guy you were watching, he‘d just trying to get money for drugs and will spend the night in the hospital after overdosing.“

The girl pointed at a man, he looked tired, fragile, his body shivering either because of the cold or a possible neglect of poison in his system.

„Yeah. That’s so sad.“, Ellie replied, exhaling the smoke of her cigarette in the pale light of the trainstation laterns.

She eyed the girl again. Her black coat covered almost her entire body, only her heeled boots were visible underneath.

She too light up a cigarette, watching the people in the same silence Ellie had just seconds before she had appeared.

„Do you ever wonder what lifes they live? If they‘re happy?“, she then asked, exhaling the smoke away from Ellies face.

„Sometimes, yeah. Hard to tell.“

Ellies eyes where glued on the girl. Her lipstick staining her cigarette in a pretty red tone, it almost looking like blood coated the filter.

The night was clear, stars slightly visible through the light pollution of their city. The moon as bright as ever. If it wasn’t for the streetlights maybe he could illuminate the entire town by himself.

„What train are you waiting for?“, Ellie dared to ask the girl.

„The one for 9pm, but it had passed already. Will have to wait for the 9.40 train now. You?“, she smiled slightly, inhaling another bit of smoke before exhaling, looking hauntingly beautiful in Ellie’s eyes.

„9.29.“

And they turned silent again. The cold made it unbearable to wait, but there was no inside area at small train stations like this.

Usually, Ellie would kindly decline talks at this hour. She just wanted to go home, roll a blunt and smoke it with a shitty sitcom playing in the background.

But today, she did want to talk. The girl was so.. special, sort of. She didn’t know her, she was a stranger. But something about her was so interesting, breathtaking too.

“Isn’t it so interesting how we see these people every day, taking the same train but we know nothing about them? Their lives, their dark secrets, their routines. Yet we’re kind of a part in it by spending time with them every day at the train station.”, the girl continued, throwing the filter of the cigarette on the ground, exhaling a last bit of smoke.

“Thats crazy, now that I think of it. I see some of them every day, others once a week.”

At this point Ellie figured the girl was a psychology student or a girl that reads too many books. She looked like a Sisters of Mercy song and talked like the biggest poet.

The girl looked at Ellie, taking in her auburn hair, her green eyes and freckles.

“Your face too tells a story, like the little scar on your eyebrow or the eye bangs. Wonder how these things happened.”

Ellie instinctively touched her scar. She tends to forget about it, to forget about how she got into a fight with some guy trying to give her less money for her weed and how she punched his face and he returned the fist too quick for Ellie to dodge.

“Guess we all have our secrets.”

Ellie light up another cigarette, watching every move the girl took.

“I too wonder about you, your ambitions, your past.”, she then added, watching the girl steal the cigarette from her hands.

“As you said, we all have our secrets.”

She put it between her lips and inhaled, her eyes never leaving Ellies. And Ellie couldn’t help but to grin at the silliness of this situation. Sharing a cigarette with a stranger at the train station while waiting for the train.

“What’s so funny?”, she asked, returning the cigarette with a lipstick stain to it. Ellie looked at it.

“Nothing really. Just didn’t have a good conversation like this in a while.“, her eyes went up to the girl as she spoke, taking in the beauty she held for a second.

„Glad to hear th-“

She was interrupted by the automatic train station voice announcing their train to arrive, 9 minutes early.

„Guess that was a good spend of time.“

“Whats your name?“, Ellie asked, standing up and taking the cigarette up to her lips.

„______.“

„I‘m Ellie. Nice to meet you.“

Gently, they shook hands before Ellie turned around to watch her train drive in.

She turned around to wave goodbye, but the girl had vanished, leaving Ellie in confusion.

Yet, she was just a stranger and Ellie just waited for her train.

#ellie williams tlou #tlou ellie #ellie williams #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie tlou2 #ellie williams x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams the last of us #ellie williams fluff

[arch3ontumbl]

World Bearer Part 2

"He's here Shoko, I did it" I repeated in the seemingly deaf Shoko, the backround noise of the phone echoes the business calls for the injured sorcerers. For a second Shoko were about to speak, she hears your child cry as it woke up from it's first slumber.

"Shoko what is it? How's Gojo, please tell me he is fine now.. he broke free from the seal right.. he promised" I paused for a second

"Oh my world" I whisper to my sons ear as I brushed his hair back off to sleep. The phone remained silent after a thud on the other end of the line "Shoko?!" I kept repeating my worry growing

"y/n I'm so sorry" Shoko's words shot like a bullet straight to the head as if I knew what she was about to reveal even before she have said

"Gojo.. Gojo is—" I hear Shoko for the first time finally bursting out of her emotion bubble as mine broke, a wash of sudden realization that I am alone now with our son

How am I supposed to handle this

How am I supposed to live like this

How can I protect our son

How could you leave me like this, LEAVE US LIKE THIS

My mind running deeper and deeper as I haven't noticed my eyes crying out for a little mercy of the world to just spare my husband, spare Gojo, let us live in peace. How many times we argued, how many times I were to tell him to lay down the weight of the world off his shoulders. How many times, If only have tried harder to convince him to leave and just runaway with me and his son. How many times he said he bears responsibility that he was born with enormous power to be held guilt tripped from, he could have turned his back and walked away, ran away with me, but instead took what he could when he was the only one to protect the world against such evil.

For all od humanity, for the innocent, the greater good, the future.

But what about us

"c/n Satoru shall be your name" I wiped my tears yet it still spilled down to my cheeks, my child cry once again as I sat in pain from fresh labour and pure stress, big doubts and confusion. Anger, sadness, and grief. I doubt Shoko for the first time she delivers the news, the rest of Gojo's death explained on the phone had caused me to go deaf, I refuse to believe such news after his promise, he promised.

My ears ringing as I could hear the faint voice of Shoko through the phone calling my name again and again

I stood up as the pain between my legs hindered my walk, carrying my child with a bit of blood pooling the floor. I look outside as the night were so cold and lonely to protect a new little one. I wrapped him around a thicker cloth Gojo has bought in advance before, now to think back to it he bought houses, left money, children things and over filling our bank with his money and assets entitled to me. We chose everything together, thinking back now how dumb of me that everytime he thought of when anytime he could leave or this situation happens atleast he gave everything we would need for the least when he knew he was the one we need for the most.

I wept as the window were closed leaving me on a rocking chair in a warm fireplace, my child on my chest, my eyes wandering of the toys he bought in advance, the clothes he thought that would good look on his wife and his son, pairing family outfits.

My eyes puff, my heart aches, I try to be as silent as my son sleeping

I will protect you

I will give you the life without burden even with the power to lift so

I bear the world, I bear you my son

And I will not allow you to bear the world just because you were able to be born to shoulder so.

63 missed calls from Shoko.

Part 3?

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