#beneath the weeping willow

[chumby4life]

No one talks about the lifelong attachment you form with the solo & ensemble pieces you sang at competition in middle school. I still find myself singing them from time to time. Choir was a part of my life for so long and it still feels a bit weird to have nothing to rehearse, no concerts to get nervous about

#choir kid #solo and ensemble #“beneath a weeping willow's shade” and “ash grove” respectively lol #both oddly very somber songs

[pescastories]

@erthlyheavn sent:✈️ AIRPLANE — Does your oc like traveling, or do they consider themselves a more homey person? (For Josephine) (x)

Josephine absolutely LOVES traveling! Whenever she gets calls from people who need her to inspect their potentially haunted house with her team, or even traveling for leisure is something she enjoys doing. 

#erthlyheavn #— ❛❛ // Josephine B. ¦ Sail over midnight skies ・ 「 IN 」 #— ❛❛ // Josephine B. ¦ Beneath the weeping willow ・ 「 Headcanons 」

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

Infernal Shadows 03

Synopsis: Being one of the most powerful overlords in Hell, you like to keep up with colonies and overlord plans. Recently with the new extermination date out, you hold your annual gala sooner than usual. You hadn’t expected to get in the middle of the already heated feud between the Radio Demon and the head of Vox Tech.

Warnings: She/Her pronouns used for the reader, mentions of blood, voodoo?, Angel Dust being a horn-bag, Reader is referred too as Madame to the public. Vox and Alastor feud because I live for it. Carmilla and Velvet feud because I also live for that. I also really favor Zestial for some reason as a calm mediator.

Song for this chapter: Ludwig van Beethoven’s Violin Concerto in D major, Op. 61

A/N: Thank you all so much for your positive feedback & feedback in general on the last two posts!! I really didn’t think this would catch so much attention but I’m so glad people like it. For some reason Tumblr’s being weird and doesn’t want to let me tag certain people, I don’t know why but if anyone does please let me know because I really don’t like that ;/ But I hope you all enjoy this chapter!! Please note that some blogs cannot be tagged, so I recommend checking this post and to check your settings to make sure I can tag you! If anything I can always just message you when the next chapter comes out, and yes I am making this series longer :) it’ll also be posted on my Wattpad soon!

Word count: 3890

Taglist: @dollops-of-delusion @nebusokuxp @scrunchss @rosedasy @valluvz @chesstras @pishybowl @iaaeav @forgotten-blues @22carolina08 @roboticsuccubus83 @doflamingadonquixote @froggyferrets @frompeach @absurd-ash @sillysillyxinnabun @urdariingdoll @delectableworm @immahuman @justaproudslytherpuff @local-mr-frog @angeli-fucking-cat @coldsweetsenthusiast @jadekomaeda @iaaeav @coffeethoughtsandanxiety @lunalixya @pretty-puppy-stuffies @lemonrolls @asimplikeallyall @lunalixya

Navigation!! // Masterlist!!! // Serendipity Writes (event) // Part One. // Part two. // Part four.

Engaging with guests throughout the night had become an exhausting endeavor, and a part of you yearned for the solace of your absence. Nevertheless, you maintained the façade, acknowledging every sinner whose smile dripped with crimson mischief. Having greeted each guest, you discreetly slipped into a shadowed corner, your shadows enveloping your figure quickly, seamlessly disappearing from the expansive room in mere seconds and emerging into an intimate gazebo outside, meticulously arranged beneath the sweeping branches of a weeping willow, you marveled at its unique ambiance. Unlike the earthly counterparts that stood white, the willow in your realm bore a deep crimson hue, its leaves adorned with a subtle, luminous sheen. A gentle smile graced your lips as you leaned against the sturdy black iron railing, delicately cradling a piece of the weeping willow between your fingertips. In the distance, the grand mansion hosting the gala loomed, its opulence contrasting with the simplicity of your secluded retreat. Despite the awareness of etiquette dictating against leaving guests unattended, the need for a mental break led you to this haven, a safe space for you. Reflecting, you acknowledged a desire for better preparation and rehearsal with the shadows, realizing the repetitiveness of conversations with the familiar sinners had rendered the night somewhat lackluster. It almost felt like you had come out of hiding for nothing. Quite the disappointment.

You sigh, massaging your temples, the lace fabric on your fingertips only slightly soothing the growing headache. However, not too far behind, you hear the sound of soft grass. You straighten up and turn around, seeing none other than your long time friend Zestial, who just smiled, nodding at you.

“Why art thou out here all alone on this crimson night?” Zestial inquired, standing by your side with his back against the railing. You resumed your original position, taking a moment to appreciate his father. Mentally noting how much of your grandfather Zestial reminded you of, you kept the sentiment unspoken.

Tonight, Zestial adorned himself in an outfit resonant with his time period, preserving his distinctive color scheme. A dark, meticulously tailored coat with lime green accents draped over his slender frame, capturing the essence of his demonic class. The cloak, adorned with lime green spider webs, unveiled a mesmerizing display when unfurled—his lime green eyes radiating, the upper pair embellished with vivid red irises. Instead of the customary big top hat, Zestial selected a smaller, more appropriate hat with a touch of flair. Dark as the shadows you command, it featured a light grey patch at the front and was finished with a grey-colored skull and a lime green and red-striped feather on the right side, adding a distinctive touch that mirrored his nature.

“Why art thou out here all alone on this crimson night?” Zestial repeated, shifting toward you a bit. Yet you resumed your original position, savoring the quiet ambiance before finally answering him. “What shall we discourse upon during our repast this eventide?” Zestial asked. Though his wording occasionally posed a challenge for others, having grown up in a family of eloquent speakers, you easily deciphered his intent. Something he truly appreciated. Though he was learning to speak more ‘modern’, or as modern as he could be.

“Quite unsure of that. Everything is changing, and I fear I might be left behind,” you expressed bluntly. Zestial sighed in response, a mix of understanding and concern evident in his lime green eyes.

“Madame, thou art timeless,” Zestial said with a bow, his cup proofing into smoke. “I pray thee, vex not thyself o’er so trivial a matter,” he added, his words resonating with both reassurance and genuine care.

You nodded, handing him a card. His surprised expression upon finding two cards instead of one didn’t escape you. “What manner of thing is this?” Zestial inquired, prompting you to summon a shadow for yourself, knowing he would find his own means back to the Gala.

“Carmilla. I am no fool to the both of you,” you said, amusement coloring your words as Zestial shook his head.

“Thou dost astonish me on every occasion,” Zestial remarked, standing by your side as you walked into your portal. Two seats vanished, leaving four empty seats at your table and six occupied.

In your study, you floated scripts in front of you, checking off names on the table list for tonight. With a few overlords left to choose from, Alastor and Charlotte secured seats based on trust and connections. Vox, Zestial, and Carmilla, an unspoken but potent couple, promised intrigue. Reconsidering Velvet for her potential devolution, you weighed each decision with strategic acumen.

Valentino, the Von Eldritch twins, and other weaker options were dismissed, maintaining a careful balance of power and influence. As you weigh the option of inviting Rosie to the gathering, her unpredictable nature adds a layer of excitement and potential surprise to the upcoming discussions. However, this unpredictability could also introduce challenges, creating an air of uncertainty around her contributions. Hopefully with Alastor around, she’d feel more inclined to behave. You check her name off the list.

In considering Stolas, the Goetia prince, his personal issues and tarnished reputation pose significant hurdles. Divorcing from his wife, sleeping with an imp for fun, as well as losing control of his daughter on Earth, it all seemed too risky to get involved with. While his wisdom and influence could contribute positively, the shadows of his struggles may complicate the dynamics, stirring potential conflicts and requiring delicate handling. Someone might get out of line with a comment towards him. His power was incredibly useful, but not worth the risk.

Husk’s transformation from a former overlord to a bartender signals a decline in power and status. While his laid-back demeanor might bring a sense of unpredictability, his diminished influence raises questions about the relevance of his involvement in the current political landscape of hell. Though he was your friend, you needed to keep your reputation pristine.

As the you contemplate the overlords assets, a mix of excitement, caution, and uncertainty envelops the decision-making process. Each overlord’s potential positive contributions are balanced by the looming negatives.

“Madame?” One of your shadows materialized, prompting a nod for them to proceed. “There seems to be some trouble in the lobby between the guests. What would you like us to do?” it inquired. A grimace crossed your face, hoping the disturbance wouldn’t mar your night. “Let me handle it,” you declared, snapping your fingers, causing the script to vanish. The shadow nodded, blending back into a wall for you to step through.

Upon reappearing, you assumed the form of a taller shadow. The room surrounded by guests revealed Vox, Velvet, Alastor, and Carmilla standing in the middle. Zestial, seemingly composed, stood close behind Carmilla, observing the situation. Carmilla appeared visibly upset, with Velvet in proximity, a pointed finger dropping as soon as she noticed your arrival. Alastor maintained his usual wide smile, though it bordered on the eerie, revealing a glimpse of his gums. The scene unfolded, presenting a potential challenge to the serene atmosphere you aimed to maintain during the gala.

Everyone seemed to stop, slowly turning toward you to see your face. Except there was no expression, just the large shadow you had taken form of. In seconds the shadow disappeared, leaving you in the fog, the expression on your face anything but calm.

"Madame I-" Velvet began, but her words were halted by the sight of your lace glove, your hand rising to silence her. Approaching the overlords, you spoke with an air of cold authority.

"My quarters. Now," you commanded, and with a snap of your fingers, smoke enveloped your spot as you vanished. Shadows materialized around the overlords, guiding them to your quarters, leaving the stunned guests in the lobby.

"Well, that was interesting," Valentino remarked.

In your study, the overlords found you seated in your tall, black chair. Its ebony surface featured intricate carvings of black glass, elegant swirls, and patterns tailored to your essence, creating an atmosphere of undeniable authority and refinement.

"I hope you all had fun acting like children," you chided sternly. The overlords lined up, forming a unified front. Leaning against the right side of your chair, you crossed your legs, elbow on the armrest, pinching the bridge of your nose with a sigh. Annoyance laced your words as you questioned, "What did you feel the need to argue about now?" Before Velvet, Vox, and Carmilla could respond simultaneously, you halted them. "One at a time. I'd assume you all handle this like adults, if you even can." The tension in the room hung thick as the overlords awaited their turn to address your inquiry.

“She wants me at her table Vaggie! Me!” Charlotte said excitedly. Vagatha just smiled.

“That’s good! Now you can tell them about the hotel, and maybe someone will be interested.” Vagatha said, and Charlotte just nodded.

“Maybe they-“ Charlotte stopped, observing as people began to crowd around the center of the lobby. Charlotte and Vagatha stood from their spots at the bar to walk toward the center, where the overlords stood. Velvet and Vox were next to each other, while Carmilla, Alastor and Zestial were across. Carmilla and Velvet were face to face. “What’s going on?” Charlotte asked as Vagatha and her pushed their way through the crowds of people.

“Come on, Carmilla, always the mood-killer,” Velvet scoffed, a disrespectful tone tainting her words. Carmilla shot her a stern look, ready to assert her authority.

“Watch that tongue, Velvet. I will not let your insolence slide,” Carmilla retorted, attempting to rein in the escalating tension.

Vox, ever the smooth talker, chimed in, “Ladies, ladies, let’s not turn this into a drama fest. We’re all here for a reason.” Vox said, sternly giving a tight lipped smile to Velvet, silently telling her to keep her shit together.

Carmilla shot a glare at Velvet, who replied with a defiant smirk, “Drama or not, Vox, some of us aren’t here for the ballroom charm.”

Alastor, drawn to the brewing chaos, couldn’t resist adding his flair, “Well, well, a bit of spice never hurt a party, does it?”

Carmilla, unfazed by the chaos, spoke with a calm authority, “Velvet, your insolence is unnecessary. This is not a playground; it’s a gathering of overlords. Act accordingly.”

Velvet, seemingly undeterred, shot back with a dismissive laugh, “Poor Grandma, always trying to play the responsible one. Maybe loosen up a bit? Have a drink will you?”

Vox, ever the smooth talker, added with a slick comment, “Perhaps we can focus on the matters at hand. Save the theatrics for later ladies.”

Alastor, intrigued by the unfolding drama, simply grinned, “Oh the picture box has spoken! Quite intriguing.” The room continued to buzz with tension as each overlord, except Rosie, added their own flavor to the brewing turmoil. As the tension thickened, Vox, with a sly grin, couldn't resist adding his own slick comment to the mix.

"Ah, Alastor, the radio days were quaint, but it seems you're a bit outdated. Television is the future, perhaps you should tune in sometime," he quipped with a wink, the words delivered with a calculated smoothness. The room momentarily hung in a charged silence before the verbal sparring resumed, adding another layer to the complex interplay of personalities at the gala.

With Vox's comment about Alastor being outdated sinking in, the radio demon responded with a sly grin, sharp teeth on display, his eyes displays dials, as the rooms lights began to deepen, "Ah, Vox, your television endeavors are impressive, but remember, I'm not just audible; I'm unforgettable. A little screen time won't change that," he retorted, “This face was made for radio.” He said with a grin, tilting his head to the side, a sharp snap in his neck, his words carrying a mix of amusement and confidence. The verbal exchange between the two overlords added another layer to the already charged atmosphere, each comment becoming a piece in the intricate puzzle of conflicts and egos at the gala.

“See what you did grandma, now you’ve got the two of them fighting.” Velvet said, pointing a finger into Carmella’s chest. She scoffed, shoving her away.

“Don’t you dare get disrespectful on me you brat.” Carmilla said, beginning to heat up with anger.

That's when Madame stepped in, reappearing in the form of a taller shadow, casting a lengthened silhouette in the room brimming with guests. Vox, Velvet, Alastor, and Carmilla found themselves at the center of the unfolding tableau, and Zestial, seemingly composed, lingered just behind Carmilla, quietly observing the escalating drama. Carmilla's visage betrayed a hint of distress, her pointed finger lowering as she registered your reappearance. Alastor, with his trademark grin, bordered on eerie, revealing a glimpse of his gums. The unfolding scene disrupted the serene atmosphere you had meticulously aimed to maintain during the gala, presenting an unexpected challenge.

A hush fell over the room as everyone turned their gaze toward you, anticipating your reaction. However, your face remained expressionless, concealed within the depths of the large shadow you had taken form of. In mere seconds, the shadow dissipated, leaving you in a misty veil. Yet, beneath the calm exterior, a storm brewed, ready to challenge the delicate balance of the evening.

Now, here you all were, sitting in the study after Carmilla had explained the situation.

“Madame, with all due respect,” Carmilla spoke, looking down. “I truly do not believe Velvet is mature enough to be at our table tonight.” Carmilla said.

“Are you questioning my judgment?” You asked sharply, to which Carmilla stiffened quickly, shaking her head then.

”No Madame, I would never-“

“Then do not say foolish things.” You said. Sighing, you shut your eyes, feeling the weight of the situation. Tonight sensitive information would be revealed and Carmilla did have some point here. Velvet clearly could not hold her tongue.

”Vox, control your associate please, or you both will be cut from the dinner tonight.” You said finally, to which he nodded nervously.

“Of course Madame.” He said, nodding to you.

“I wasn’t finished.” You said, looking to Alastor.

“I want none of this technology talk either.” You spoke, staring at Alastor who just smiled with lidded eyes. You knew he was very much upset, but you had forbidden anyone to fight in your home, anyone but you of course. “You all will act like mature adults wether you like it or not. I am not your guardian, I should not be having this conversation with overlords who should know better.” You said, standing. ”Now, all of you, out.” You said, snapping your fingers. Quickly the shadows began to move, ushering everyone out of your study. Everyone except Carmilla. “Not you.” You said to her, Zestial nodding to you and her as he stepped out, giving you both privacy.

“Madame, I didn’t mean what I said-“ Carmilla said quickly. You waved her off, straightening yourself out.

“Nonsense Carmilla, I know you meant well.” You said with a stoic expression. You sit back down, crossing your legs and snapping your fingers to form a chair in front of your desk, ushering her to sit. “I wanted to speak to you about your weapons.” You stated. At this her eyes went wide, before dropping again.

“Oh, very well then. What would you like to know?” She asked. You grinned, before standing again.

“Well, how much would I need to give you for you to make me a personal bayonet?” You asked. She went silent for a moment, before answering.

“Nothing at all Madame.” She said, standing to look at you. “May I ask what for?” She questioned. You shook your head.

“No, just to have on display. I want a new one, the old one I have is quite out of style for me.” You replied. She just nodded, before you waved to her, sitting back down and summoning a script again. “You may go now, and please, do not argue with children.” You commented. She just smiled and nodded, leaving you to your own vices.

It was half-past eleven, five minutes till the midnight bells chime. Everyone in the lobby was beginning to get excited for the entertainment you had planned for the night. Oh, you knew you would not disappoint.

“Madame would like everyone to accompany her on a journey tonight. She has sent me to retrieve you all. She would like to formally welcome you to tonight’s entertainment.” The large shadow said, standing from the topic of the stairs. Behind it was a large portal. It stepped backwards, into the portal, and nodded for the guests to start coming through.

The custom-built coliseum stands as a testament to Madame's vision, a grand fusion of opulence and dark elegance. The circular structure boasts towering columns, but instead of conventional pillars, thick chains rise, intricately linked and serving as both ornamental decor and structural support. The arches, molded in black, curve gracefully around the circumference, evoking a Victorian Gothic aesthetic that permeates the entire venue.

Two larger-than-life statues of Madame herself flank the entrance, capturing her regal poise and adding a touch of imposing authority. The statues serve not only as decorative elements but as a representation of the gala's hostess, a constant presence overseeing the proceedings, she is always watching, all seeing, perfection.

The overall ambiance is one of grandeur and mystery, with the black molding on the arches casting shadows that play into the darker undertones. Every intricate detail, from the chains to the statues, contributes to the unique Victorian Gothic feel of the coliseum, matching Madame’s home perfectly, matching her perfectly. The venue, finally being unveiled to the guests, now welcomes them who are treated to an appetizer course, surrounded by the striking architecture and entertained within the darkly enchanting atmosphere Madame has meticulously crafted.

Numerous shadows, dark and formless, line the entrance walls, extending silent greetings to the arriving guests. Their presence adds an air of mystique and intrigue as they blend seamlessly with the Gothic architecture. As attendees make their way into the coliseum, these shadowy figures create an ethereal welcome, embodying the unique atmosphere of Madame's custom-built venue.

At a separate entrance reserved for the handpicked members of Madame's esteemed dinner table, a solitary shadow stands guard. This entrance, reserved for a select few, hints at the exclusivity and importance of those who will partake in the upcoming dinner. The shadowy sentinels serve not only as silent greeters but also as guardians of the event's secrets, casting an enigmatic allure over the gala.

A singular shadows escorts Charlotte, Alastor, and the rest of the overlords to the exclusive section, leading them to an elevator to bring them to the best seats in the coliseum. The elevator’s interior is a striking display of elegance, with white and black checkered flooring lending a timeless touch. The walls, enveloped in darkness, exude an air of mystery, while black, smokey glass engravings on the ceiling add intricate detailing that dances in the ambient light. Each number on the elevator, indicating the ascending levels, glows a vibrant red, creating a vivid contrast against the monochrome palette.

“Oh I’m so excited! What do you think we’re gonna see? Gladiators? Sinners fight? Oh actually I hope not, I don’t want people to die.” Charlotte said to Alastor. Carmilla just chuckled at her antics while Zestial eyed her with curiosity. Where did Alastor find such a girl and why the princess of all people?

The elevator stops at the top floor, revealing the opening in the middle, which was surprisingly covered with water.

“What is Madame playing at?” Carmilla questioned as the overlords sat in a row at the top. From there they could see everything and everyone.

“I am quite uncertain, yet my anticipation is stirred nonetheless.” Zestial said. The lights around began to dim, and shadows began to pour glasses of water in front of all the guests. Down in the middle of the coliseum was the tallest shadow, the one that seemed to be Madame’s favorite, since it always spoke for her.

“Greetings all. It is Madame’s pleasure to invite you all to the special entertainment tonight. Madame has put together some of hell’s finest performers for your entertainment tonight. I would like to present, preforming here tonight, The Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra preforming Ludwig van Beethoven’s Violin Concerto in D major, Op. 61.” The shadow said with a bow, before it vanished just as quick as it came. Then, other shadows appeared, but this time they were different. They were people, performers, with clear outlined silhouettes, faces and expressions, even clothes.

“Hey, Al?” Charlotte asked, leaning over in her seat to Alastor. He let out a ‘hm?’ In response.

“Does Madame own those souls down there?” Charlotte whispered, but before Alastor could answer, a shadow had already cut in.

“Yes. All the shadows here, even yours, Madame owns.” The shadow said quietly, filling Charlotte’s glass cup with water. Charlotte nervously, perked up, but said nothing as she shadow carried on with it’s catering.

The ethereal notes of the music filled the air as the performance unfolded. Around the musicians stood ballet dancers, their movements a delicate poetry in motion. Clad in all black, the performers created a stark contrast to the dancers, who emerged with an otherworldly grace akin to figures rising from the depths of water. The dancers moved with an angelic fluidity, their forms intertwining seamlessly with the haunting melody, creating a mesmerizing tableau that captivated the audience. The visual symphony of black-clad musicians and the whisky-hued ballet dancers painted a scene of enchantment and mystery within the grand coliseum. Even down to the dancers, this had Madame written all over it.

Velvet's keen eye captured the essence of the dancers' ethereal movements on paper. With each stroke of her sketch, she depicted the dancers as if emerging from a watery abyss, the fog enveloping their feet creating an illusion of water flowing upward. The intricate details on her sketch paper brought to life the dancers' graceful forms, their figures seemingly intertwined with the rising mist, evoking the enchantment of a waterspout captured in a moment of sublime artistry. Velvet's artistic interpretation added a layer of depth to the performance, transforming the ephemeral dance into a tangible and captivating visual narrative.

Water had begun to swirl, the dancers moving around it, the water getting taller and taller, similar to the way it had when you had first made your entrance at the beginning of the Gala. Now, it was water, and from Charlotte’s seat, she had struggled to make out what was going on. She turned to Alastor to see him holding a pair of opera glasses in his hand. Without you having to ask, he tapped the armrest of her seat. Charlotte turned to the side to see a pair tucked neatly against the front of the armrest. She grabbed them quickly, before looking through them and at the waterspout now forming in the middle. Her jaw flew open, as well as the loud screech of Alastor’s track playing. Vox had short circuited, and Carmilla gasped loudly. Velvet stood silent, but there was evident confusion on her face, while Zestial sunk into his seat, conflicting emotions flowing through him.

“Madame- she’s-“ Charlotte stuttered, and Alastor nodded, swallowing thickly.

“With an exorcist. I know.”

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin charlie #hazbin angel dust #hazbin vaggie #hazbin demon #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel rosie #alastor #zestial hazbin hotel #yandere alastor x reader #yandere alastor #yandere vox #yandere vox x reader #hellaverse #isuckatwritingsobenice infernal shadows #isuckatwritingsobenice

[kedreeva]

The last photos of Stan Lee, the Cameo peacock.

I like to think he had a decent last day. We tube fed him early this morning so he would not feel hungry or thirsty despite that he could no longer find food or water. He spent the rest of the day loafing in the sunlight, surrounded by hens that liked him a great deal because he was always super gentle and sweet to his ladies. He always loved babies, and Aurora's 2023 kids were no exception, and I caught both of them cuddled up to Stan at one point as well. Even though he couldn't see them, I hope he knew he was not alone. I hope that they feel they got to say their goodbyes- I haven't heard anyone calling for him, so that's a good sign.

As the sun began to set, I came out to get him, and he was by himself for the first time, sleeping along the wall in the sun. He didn't fuss when I picked him up, and rode quietly in the car to the vet. He laid quietly in my lap in the waiting room, and I watched a rainbow crawl across his wing and back while we waited. As he fell asleep from the initial sedation, some of the vet staff that had seen him often the last 7 years for his many issues came to say goodbye quietly. They let me stay with him through the Final Sleep, as well, and he went just as quickly and quietly. Perhaps he thought it was time as well.

I am going to miss him like crazy. I never wanted a cameo bird, partly because I know they are prone to carrying health issues and blindness in particular, but he wobbled his way right into my heart once he was in my hands.

I set aside his final train of feathers, along with a good deal of his saddle and some of his neck feathers, as keepsakes. One primary from each wing, some of his actual tail feathers. I will make myself a feather vase from it when I am up to it.

Sark helped me to bury Stan's body beneath the weeping willow sapling we planted last summer. It's near the coops, rather than in the death orchard, as he never particularly liked sleeping near other birds at night, only by day.

It has not been an easy two days, but I know once I have some distance, his memory will certainly be a blessing for me, and for everyone whose lives he touched along the way. His train was always full of hearts from all the love.

#stan the peachick #animal death for ts #pet death for ts #my pets #peafowl #peacocks #pet death #animal death

[beelze0-0]

Oh, bury me beneath the willow

Under the weepin’ willow tree

So he will know where I am sleeping

And, perhaps, he’ll weep for me

CW: death

#ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd fanart #izzy hands #edizzy #edward teach

[munsonluhvr]

♡ seven | steve harrington x reader (childhood friends to lovers) (record player series #1) word count - 1.1k

You shift in your seat, tucking your legs against your chest, leaning forward to place your chin on your knees. The soft, warm breeze blows against your skin, leaving goosebumps across your arms in its wake. Your eyes dart to catch Steve’s as he sits across from you on the same picnic blanket. His sparkling, brown eyes glance back at you, a small smile creeping across his mouth. 

Even all these years later, he still has his boyish looks from when he was seven. The same messy brown hair, the same lopsided smile. Even after all these years, his gaze still makes you feel like you’re the only girl in the world. 

It’s been nearly a year since you last saw Steve, college taking you to different sides of Indiana. You had managed to keep in touch, sending letters occasionally, but it didn’t fill the ache of missing your longest childhood friend. You, of course, made friends at school, but none of them made you feel like Steve, none of them understood you like he did. But as you sit across from him now, the tension between you feels different as if somethings changed. 

Steve starts laughing softly, taking you out of your thoughts, his gaze turning from you to across his backyard. The large weeping willows drape over the empty space of his yard, nearly touching the patio chairs Steve’s parents have had for as long as you can remember. The sun warms the ground beneath you, and you let your fingertips disappear into the green fluff of the grass. 

“D-Do you remember when I nearly broke my arm jumping off the porch because we were pretending to be pirates? Or when you got into an argument with your parents, so you packed your dolls into your sweater and came over to the house saying that you were coming to live with me?” Steve says between laughs. He shakes his head, reminiscing on the memories you made together as children; thinking about your seven-year-old self, cheeks pink and stained with tears standing on his back porch after the argument with your parents. 

You nod, your eyes grazing across his back porch where you could nearly visualize that day as if it was yesterday. You could also remember when you had been playing pirates with Steve and had to run into his house, in search of his parents because he had jumped off the porch to pretend he was going overboard and fell on the ground hard, wailing in pain. Though, he only sprained his arm. 

“I think I remember that you wiped my tears, hugged me until I stopped crying and told me we’d run away to India one day. Far away from our parents.” You say, a smile appearing on your own face. 

Just then Steve’s eyes drops, his hand going to rub the back of his neck in a self-soothing way; he always did that when he was nervous or distressed. “Yeah, I guess I had a crush on you back then. My seven-year-old self-thought we could run away to India and get married.” 

Your heart begins to thud against your chest, butterflies beating their tiny wings against your lungs. Steve had been your best friend for as long as you can remember, not once did you grow apart. Sure, being apart for college was difficult, but you did the best you could. What you had learned at college, however, is that the longing you have to see Steve, the ache you had for your best friend, was no longer platonic – it was love. The time apart from him, around others who didn’t get you the way he did encouraged you to truly understand your feelings for him. The realization had kept you up in your cramped dorm room night after night, but you finally accepted the truth. You loved your childhood friend. 

“I-I didn’t know you liked me, ever.” You said, biting at your bottom lip. You can’t recall a single time you felt the sense that Steve could possibly like you more than his childhood best friend. 

Steve continues to rub at the back of his neck, then runs a hand through his fluffy hair. “Sometimes I think I still do.” He says, glancing at you. His own heart thumps against his chest, a metallic taste flourishing in the back of his throat. 

Steve had had his own realizations after you left for college, the time apart from you encouraged his mind to think about you constantly, missing your presence and the way you could make him laugh. He came to the conclusion he’s always had feelings for you, his younger self thinking it was plausible to sweep you away to India, your precious belongings tucked into your shirt, far away from your parents; but as time went on he had convinced himself that there was a very little chance you could feel the same about him and he hid his feelings until now.  

Your jaw slacks ever so slightly at his confession. You can feel an even bigger smile beginning to appear on your face, but you don’t want to seem too eager. “I didn’t know that.” 

Steve shrugs, his eyes still struggling to meet yours. His nerves are frayed, searching to find a hint in your voice or body language to see if he’s ruined the most important friendship he’ll ever have. “I didn’t know how to tell you; I could never tell if you felt the same.” 

You reach out, your hand making its way to Steve’s that’s placed on the ground, holding him up. You let your fingers intertwine with his, the warmth of his skin brushing against your palm. “You should have said something,” you say, your voice coming out lower then you expected to be. 

“Why?” Steve asks, his heart thudding against his chest, his heartbeat echoing in his ears. He’s afraid his heartbeat in his ears will drown out your answer and he’ll miss you saying something he’s waited so long to hear you say. 

“Because I feel the same, and I also didn’t know how to tell you," you say. Once the word leaves your lips, the relief you feel makes your body feel light.

The urge to kiss your lips overcomes Steve and following his impulse he leans forward, his soft lips colliding with yours. You hum with pleasure, as Steve's hand reaches towards your, his nimble fingers intertwining with locks of your hair. You lean forward, deepening the kiss with Steve, the flavor of his lips is as sweet as the strawberries you had eaten only a few minutes before. Is this what you've been missing out on all this time?

Steve pulls back just enough to mumble against your lips. "I've wanted to kiss you ever since I was seven and you flashed me a smile with all your missing teeth for the first time." Then he leans back into you, his lips gently pressing against yours, as all of his childhood fantasies come true.

#stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fan fiction #S

[sidthedollface2]

A Crown fit for a God

(Part 2 here)

Pairing: Azriel x Fem Reader

Summary: An enemy threatens Velaris leaving Azriel to choose between his found family and a long lost friend. Can he juggle the two or will he fall for the enemy?

word count: 2.6k

Series warnings: 18+ MDNI, angst, hurt/comfort,light smut, war, including injuries, fighting, sign language, no use of y/n, nicknames, magic, greek mythology, pining, jealousy, azriel with other women (sorry), reader with another man (get it friend ; )

A/n: I'm a daydreamer not a writer so if you see any mistakes that's how I dreamt it. Lol

Azriel sat at his desk, reports and sightings of a hooded being trespassing multiple courts, leaving behind scorched farm lands and destroyed buildings scattered across the table. “Any luck?” Elain questioned, running her gentle hands over Azriel's shoulders, loosening his tense muscles. “I’ve been searching for over 500 years, but I think I'm getting close. Most recent sightings have been by women and children. Day or night it does not matter, they've seen IT and their bodies remain still, unable to move or scream until their work is done.” Azriel stared at the map of Prythian. “I think it’s finally here,” he met Elains worried eyes, “in the Night Court.” 

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

Azriel 8 yrs old

Azriel stopped sobbing once he knew no one would come for him. The foul smell of char and burnt flesh still lingered in his cell. His small hands trembled and shook from the intense pain, bubbles full of fluid and blackened skin covered both hands. Fingers locked and unable to move, not even to wipe at his heavy tears. The four walls to his cell provided nothing but cold nights and loneliness. With nothing to soothe the heat from his hands Azriel pressed his blistered palms flat to the cold floors. Hissing through clenched teeth as the coldness relieved some of the ache and heat within. Azriel hummed to a song inside his head, anything to pull his tired mind away from the pain and hopelessness he felt. With his eyes squeezed shut he tried to will the tears away, humming louder and louder to drown out his thoughts. His mind circled to a happier time. 

Small feet padding through fields of tall grass as he raced to his favorite spot; under a weeping willow. Perched against the tall tree the scent of fresh apples and citrus filled his nose as the wind carried the delicious scent towards him. His ears caught the melodious song of birds high above him. His gaze tracked up the tree to spot the feathered songbird but as soon as he craned his neck towards the sky time froze. A beautiful luna moth with large iridescent wings took flight, landing on the soft skin of Azriel’s cheek, tickling the small boy awake.

Azriel quickly opened his eyes, blinking rapidly in the darkness. The scent of citrus still lingered and time was eerily still. His pupils widened, adjusting to focus on what he was seeing. In the corner of his cell a shadowed figure stood still. Scrambling to his feet Azriel backed himself into the wall behind him. The dark figure inched closer, slowly, step by step. The hooded figure reached for Azriel's small hand. He told his mind to pull away, and to resist. But he was frozen against the cold wall, unable to move or cry out for help; not that anyone would help him. He tried to scream but the air left his lungs. Peeking beneath a hood Azriel saw the most stunning and captivating eyes he’d ever seen. Neither of the same color, yet bright and brilliant. One holds the color of the night sky, dark with swirls of violet and starlight. The other is pale and cloudy like the surface of the moon from Prythian. Your long shiny hair framed your youthful face and pouty lips perfectly. You don’t look much older than him yet you have this ancient presence he can't put his finger on.  

You're cool fingertips brush his knuckles, testing for his reaction. A small smile graces your lips as you remember that he’s unable to move. At least unable to move his outer extremities and vocal chords. Yet the windows to his soul tell you he's frightened. His wide hazel eyes are glassy, tears slowly filling his waterline. The rapid rise and fall in his chest is another clue to his distress. You let out a soft sigh as a single tear runs down his dirty cheek. Taking a step back you lay your palm flat against your chest, hoping he’ll understand what you intend to convey. Again, you pat your chest and azriel blinks in response. Bringing your hands in front of you, you tuck your fingers in creating a fist and curl both your forefingers and hook them together, with one wrist facing down and the other up you sign the word ‘Friend.’  

You wait for his breaths to slow before you gather his burned hand within yours. His knuckles are angry and reddened from the lack of healthy skin. Moderate pieces are blackened and multiple blisters are threatening to burst.  Carefully, you examine the extensive damage that was done, and begin to call upon your magic. Azriel's eyes widen to the size of saucers when your fingertips spark with what looks like stardust and your hand turns completely black from your fingertips down to your wrist. You gently run your star glittered forefinger down his. Starting at the base of his knuckle to the tip of his finger, healing all the delicate tissue and epidermis just like it was before. You release the magic holding him still, allowing him to relax his shoulders and curl the finger you healed. “How did-” the words die in his mouth as you continue to work on the next finger. Tracing once again from the base of his knuckle, down his slender finger to his nail. Revealing smooth and supple skin, no longer burned and charred.

The loud sound of a door opening startled both of you apart. Stopping your healing magic at only two fingers, Azriels paniced eyes met yours. You knew what he was asking. But you couldn't grant him more time, at least not yet. Quickly, you pulled your hood up over your head. Closing your hand in a fist you brought it to your chest, moving it in a circular motion; signing the word ‘sorry.’ 

“Wait!” Azriel’s arms dart out grasping onto the sleeve of your cloak only for the garment to fall at a pile to his feet. “Mother!” he gasped, shocked at your sudden disappearance, leaving behind your cloak that still had warmth and your scent. 

He’d kept your cloak all these years, the only cloth in his cell that kept him warm on those freezing nights. 

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

Az, something is breaching the wards, get down here. 

Rhys panicked words pierced through Azriel's mind as he abruptly sat up from the bed, the bed he shared with Elain. He quickly pulled his pants on, followed by his shirt and protective leathers. Placing a kiss to Elain's forehead, he winnowed to the location Rhys mentioned. 

An invisible force separated the three males from the dark figure that threatened Velaris. 

“Is It alone?” Cassian questioned, glancing behind and around the figure, assessing the intruder. His fingers itched at his sides, waiting for the slightest movement to unleash his blade. 

“She’s alone.” Rhys confirmed, gaze narrowed and unwavering at the dark figure. 

“She?” Both Cassian and Azriel said in unison, a look of shock on both their faces. It wasn’t that they doubted a female's ability. They knew the power that simmered beneath the skin. The unending strength, if provoked enough. The females in the inner circle, if combined, could take on males twice their size and fight wars alongside the bravest of warriors, but not alone. You’d have to be extremely powerful or extremely stupid to dare face the night court’s high lord alone.

Her gaze lifted above to the bright blue sky as if the power holding Velaris safe was visible to the eye. Her head swiveled left, noting how large the protection ran. Then to her right, gauging the amount of magic needed to breach the wards. At the moment, no army trailed behind her. No warrior or protector was by her side. She was simply there to send a message. 

“She’s unarmed.” Azriel's shadows slithered back to him, informing him of the lack of weapons and armor. She was defenseless and although a powerful barrier kept her out of Velaris, the two most violent and skilled warriors along with the most powerful highlord stood before her; she remained fearless. Her strong legs planted firm in the soil. It was difficult to determine what was under her dark cloak. His shadows stilled as her gaze met those of the shadowsinger. He knew those eyes. Azriel had searched for those beautiful eyes in every court, in every crowd, in every female. He’d dreamed of the day he’d see them again. His attention was directed to Rhys as he spoke in a firm demanding tone. 

“I will say this once, and only once-” 

Rhys' voice caught in his throat as the female's palms met the protective barrier. Electric current coursed through her veins, the power of lightning flickered from her fingers creating an orb of pure energy. Her foot dug into the soil behind her as she braced herself pushing through the wards, creating a space for her body to pass. All three males rushed towards her, charging at the enemy with bared teeth and blades ready to attack. Their large bulking frames and violence in their eyes was enough to bring grown men to their feet. 

Cassian sent a blast of red power straight towards her, expecting it to hit its target. Although stronger than most fae, his blast passed through her like a strong gust of wind. Whipping her head to its side, causing her long hair to flow out from under her hood. Her feet stayed planted, unwavering.

“Mother above.” Cassian breathed before he held his sword up high, slicing through the air as he brought it down over her head. Rhys' eyes widened for a fraction as Azriel’s truth teller clashed with Cassian, blocking his effort to harm her. Azriel’s shoulder roughly dug into Cassian's chest as he shoved his brother back with force. Betrayal laced in Cassian's eyes as he gaped at his brother. Out of all their arguments and bickering not once has Azriel disagreed with a common enemy. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Cassian sneered, meeting Azriels force with his own. Never one to back down at defending his court or his high lord. 

“You foolish boy!” Amren called from a distance, closing the space between them, “you cannot kill a God.” 

“Took you long enough,” Rhys tisked, plucking an invisible lint from his dark shirt. 

The hooded figure narrowed her eyes at the approaching Amren and scowled at the title that she clearly did not like. Azriel and Cassian ceased their bickering as Rhys' power shook the very ground they stood on, a wave of darkness ready to protect his city.

 “No one has breached these wards in 5,000 years.” Rhys declared with all the confidence of a high lord. Stepping forward, commanding the eyes of the hooded figure in a challenge, “what business does a God have in Velaris, surely you have better things to do.”

“Do not mock her, she can kill you where you stand.” Amren whispered. “As can I.” Rhys challenged. 

Her face remained unseen under the protection of her hood. Slowly her fingers came up beside her face, grasping the edges of the hood, she pushed the dark fabric over her head, revealing herself.

Amrens words ring true when the goddess reveals herself. Her beauty is unique and divine, flawless in the way that makes males fall to their knees. 

All the air from Azriels lungs vanished as he stared into those eyes. Years he’d been searching every court, reading countless books on healers and where they originated. Shamelessly making eye contact with each female he met hoping to one day find the mute girl who gave him purpose.  To hope one day he could thank her for her kindness to a boy who had nothing. 

“I’ve been looking for you.” Azriel exhaled, holding a palm out to Rhys and his brother letting them know ‘he’s got this.’ 

Your brows furrowed, and your eyes trailed down Azriels body. Trying your hardest to put a face or name to the male in front of you. After years of imagining how seeing you again would be, he didn't put into account the possibility of you not recognizing him. While Azriel admired how much you've grown since he first saw you. Your gaze seemed to pass right through him. And his worst fears were confirmed with a tilt of your head. 

You didn’t remember him. 

You couldn't recall any detail or encounter that would cause you to remember the male. Instead you focused your gaze on the High Lord. you were here to deliver a message after all. 

“High Lord of Night, ready your soldiers, a war is among you.” 

Surprise passed through Azriels eyes as he heard you speak. The day he met you your only form of communication was through hand signs. And now your voice is laced with threat, nothing like the gentle girl he met hundreds of years ago. He wonders what had changed.  

“And what do you bring to this war?” Rhys expression hardened. He tried to enter your mind to see for himself the truth of your words. Surprised to see your mind vulnerable for all, yet within the space were no visions or memories of your past, but  rings of blazing fire encircled a black hole with unknown knowledge within. Rhys had read about minds with black holes. It was a mystery as to what one would find within the hole. Some say time freezes for the observer, how long till it resumes has never been answered. Others say that if you fall into the black hole your mind fails the body and a blazing fire consumes you from the inside out, leaving behind ashes to be carried by the wind. 

“I bring Chaos and unrest, Lord of Night it be wise of you to heed my warning because your life will be in my hands.” 

Within seconds the afternoon sky turned dark and gray, the loud crack of thunder boomed in the distance and before either of them could reach you, you summoned a strike of lightning; hitting the ground like a whip. The flash was bright as it hit  and Rhys witnessed the wards he placed on Velaris crumble. A loud roar was heard throughout Velaris, a deadly creature answering your call.  It was then he realized, struggling to push through a small door to get within the protection wards was just for show. And whatever message you needed to deliver, something frightening answered. 

 Between the flashes of lightning and the echoes of thunder, just beyond the way they saw hundreds and hundreds of waiting soldiers. Looking at your retreating form, Azriel, Cassian and Amren rubbed at their eyes.

Once you reached the front line of fighters you looked over your shoulder, meeting Rhys powerful gaze and with a slight smirk you replaced his wards and removed the illusioned warriors. Leaving Velaris protected as it once was but now the threat of death and destruction looms near, not only to Rhys but everything and everyone he holds dear in Velaris. 

Part 2

~ thank you for reading

#azriel shadowsinger #acotar #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel spymaster #azriel fanfic #azriel x fem!reader #azriel x y/n #azriel angst #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar fanfic #acotar imagine #a court of thorns and roses #azriel #acotar azriel #azriel imagine #acotar fic #azriel fluff

[ladyofthenoodle]

A voice called out her name - her real name - drawing her attention away from the swirling surface. Her eyes travelled down the water's edge to where a huge willow tree stood. It leaned in a gentle arc, its branches delicately extending outwards towards the stream. And from those branches fell a thick cascade of leaves, creating a beautiful green curtain that gently kissed the water's surface.

She'd never understood why willows were said to be sad or weeping. To her it only ever seemed that the way the tree leaned towards the river was like an open embrace. It was an emotion she felt mirrored in her own heart - a deeply felt affection that spurred a need for proximity. And the centre of her affection was right there.

He stood by the willow, calling out to her again as he waved. A soft breeze unsettled his neat blond hair and made the willow branches whisper around him. His green eyes were bright in the spring sunshine, reflecting all the brilliant shades of the forest around them. For all the beauty that existed in the forest, her gaze could only ever focus on him and his smile.

She called out his name and ran to meet him beneath the willow tree, just as she'd done countless times before.

one of my favorite scenes from bell the cat chapter 4, by @heartfulselkie!! i was so lucky to get such a talented writer for secret santa with so many beautiful scenes to choose from, but the image of them meeting by the willow tree was irresistible 🩷🌿

#miraculous ladybug #ml fanart #adrinette #lovesquare #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #noodles doodles

[awearywritersworld]

"can we stay here a little while longer?"

gojo satoru x reader summary: grappling with death, something that seems ever pervasive in your line of work, gojo offers you comfort w/c: .8k tags/warnings: light angst to fluff, gn!reader, no use of y/n, discussions of death, smoking, your relationship is obviously close but it's exact nature is left ambiguous a/n: i just want him to hold me, i am weeping. i wrote most of this a while back and finally decided to finish it. masterlist check out my latest work for gojo here

"what brings you out here?" you call out to the white haired man strolling in your direction.

"oh you know," he begins, sitting down beside you in the grass. "just thought i could use some sun."

you're situated beneath a willow tree, its leaves rustling as the branches sway in the wind.

you look up at the gray sky incredulously. "'toru, it's overcast-"

"ah! you always see right through me, sweetheart," he exclaims, amusement clear in his voice. "i'm really just here to check on you."

you look over and meet his eye, but turn away the very next moment. "oh."

he watches as you pull blades of grass from the ground one by one. in your other hand, a cigarette hangs loosely between two fingers and he doesn't say anything more until you take a long drag from it.

"haven't you heard those things will kill you?"

a humorless chuckle passes your lips as you begin to exhale, blowing the smoke away from his direction. "given our line of work, it's much more likely that something else will get to me first."

"i guess you've got me there," he acquiesces, nimble fingers pulling the cigarette from yours.

you raise your eyebrows when he brings it to his lips, his nose scrunching almost imperceptibly as the menthol cools his tongue. having grown up with you and shoko, it's not like he's never smoked before. he just prefers to eat his weight in sweets, everyone having their vices and all.

"is that why you've been hiding away the past two days?" he questions, passing it back to you.

you shrug. "'m just tired of losing people."

his hand lands just above your knee, giving it a light squeeze before pulling away. "me too."

gojo's well accustomed to your habit of isolating yourself, and while he knows you need alone time now and then, he always comes to find you before long.

"do you wanna talk about it?" he broaches, giving you a little nudge with his elbow. "everyone else is getting tired of dealing with me, especially shoko."

"i suppose i can open up if it's for her sake-"

"hey!" he interrupts, though he's relieved to see the small smirk playing at your lips.

"kidding!" you laugh, leaning into him. after a moment, you grow quiet once more, though your expression isn't nearly as gloomy. "i don't know, 'toru. sometimes i just feel as if death is the easy part."

gojo narrows his eyes at you, the sentiment behind your words igniting his worry. "meaning what, exactly?"

"that they're gone.. and meanwhile i'm left to wonder why the hell i'm still alive."

"don't say that," he scolds, sounding a bit harsher than he intends.

"why not? it's not like-"

"because i'd die before i'd let anything happen to you."

you just stare at him, your lips slightly parted and your expression entirely unreadable. he doesn't take it back though, his eyes burning into yours decisively and his tone definite, like he'd decided on the matter ages ago. it leaves no room for argument, really, but of course you argue anyway.

"don't be ridiculous," you eventually huff.

"i'm not, you said it yourself. death is the easy part and i happen to be exceptionally selfish-"

"oh, that is the furthest thing from the truth," you interrupt.

"not when it comes to you."

his words hang in the air and you wonder when your heart started hammering against your ribcage, each beat more vicious than the last. the man before you is kind and generous, a far cry from the careless boy you'd known in your youth.

you haven't failed to notice the time and energy he dedicates to his students, or the way he's risked his life to protect those who can't protect themselves. it goes without saying that he'd won your admiration and understanding a long time ago.

"well, we all deserve to be selfish sometimes," you murmur.

his lip tugs upward at your response, a show of emotion that's both soft and genuine. "does that mean i can force you to rejoin society now?"

suddenly, you're aware of all the life around you— life that carries on even in the absence of the sun. the bees that fly from blossom to blossom. the birds that sing to one another. the squirrels that chase each other through the branches of the willow tree.

you scoot closer to gojo, your head falling onto his shoulder as you softly exhale. "can we stay here a little while longer?"

"sure, princess," he hums, his lips grazing the top of your head in a gentle show of affection. "we can stay as long as you want."

#m!writes #gojo #gojo x reader #gojo imagines #gojo fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #jjk fluff #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru imagines #gojo satoru fluff

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

𓅨 Eros: Chapter One

Eros: Married to Dream of the Endless, you find yourself sent back in time to Ancient Greece where you, unfortunately, meet Oneiros. Fresh off a divorce and drowning the sorrows of his son’s death by indulging in the Panathenaia, you find yourself trapped beneath the lustful gaze of your future husband. In your defense, he seduced you first…

Warnings: Language, Time Travel.

To Note: Morpheus x Wife!Reader, Time Travel, Oneiros is used for AncientGreek!Morpheus.

Word Count: ~2.9k

Masterlist | Next

You spent a lot of time staring at the throne adjacent to the intricately carved marble one depicting the helm of Dream of the Endless. It was more feminine, carved out of the same marble as the Morpheus’, but designed with a softer touch. It was a marble forest, twisting branches and flowers that were inspired by Fiddler’s Green, your fingers always ended up tracing little grooves and bumps absentmindedly.

“Hey boss lady,” You turned your head in time to see Matthew fluttering his way up to your shoulder. His feet clutched the fabric of your sweater and shuffled his wings, looking at the two thrones. “You know you’ve been married for like, two months… right?”

“Distinctly,” You answered dryly, having very vivid memories of your wedding night. You hadn’t left the bed for three days, and then couldn’t walk right for three weeks. Morpheus had been very smug with the way you hobbled around, while you felt like crawling into a hole in embarrassment. You’d married a voracious Endless that aspired to paint every millimeter of your body with his love, and ensure that everyone knew it. “But it’s not like I was born knowing I was going to marry an Endless and become the queen of a realm.”

“True, true,” Matthew echoed with a bob of his head. “But ma’am, has anything actually changed in your life? Ignoring the fact that you live here now…”

You thought about Matthew’s words. Not much had changed in your life save your happiness. You had only ever really felt happy when visiting the Dreaming, so there wasn’t much you missed in the Waking. The people in the Dreaming themselves had always gone to you for advice now that you thought about it. They felt confident speaking to you about their problems… so you had been their queen long before you became their official one.

“No, nothings really changed… and it’s just a title,” You mused softly walking towards your throne and running your fingers along the warm marble. Warm and cool, just like you and Morpheus. You were an unusual pairing and not one that you’d think would work in the first place. “Alright, I’ve stared at the thrones for long enough, it’s time to go outside and touch some grass.”

“Ya know I think Lord Dream could touch some grass time to time,” Matthew muttered from your shoulder. “He’s been kinda uptight lately.”

“Probably cause of all the changes, you know he likes things certain ways,” You said dryly, thinking back to all the arguments you’d gotten into with him just because he was being a giant dunderhead who didn’t want to listen to you and pretended that your opinion and decision didn’t matter.

“Yeah you might be onto something,” Matthew chirped in agreement. Exiting the palace, you wandered through the gardens while letting your fingers brush along the flowers and bushes of the garden. “But at least he’s trying!” Matthew added, trying to be positive about his boss.

“He got pissy with me because I wanted to take a walk in London by myself after we had lunch with Hob,” You couldn’t help but point out. “It was London, in the middle of the day when families were having picnics!”

“And we both know humans can be assholes,” Matthew reminded you. “The boss doesn’t have a lot of good experience with mortals to go off of.”

“Pretty sure I have more experience in the human department than he does?”

“Point,” The raven agreed, taking off and swooping through the limp branches of the weeping willow in front of you. You passed beneath the little tunnel of gnarled branches carefully grown and kicked out your foot. You’d been feeling antsy lately, cooped up and in need of stretching your limbs. Maybe you’d go for a swim? Morpheus didn’t exactly like you swimming in the Ocean of Dreams, but you and the entity had a pretty good relationship and she didn’t try to drown you when you went swimming. “He’s still gonna throw a tantrum.”

“And I dare you to say that to his face,”

“I’ll pass I like having feathers… and living in general...” Matthew shuddered to think what Morpheus’ reaction would be of learning he’d said that.

“It would be funny though,” You giggled to yourself, imaging the initial confusion that would cross Morpheus’ face… then perhaps just a hint of an eye tick, then the whole: you dare… Your husband was entirely too predictable at times and you found it very amusing. You were deaf to Matthew’s disgruntled grumbles and continued walking, not realizing that your feet were carrying you towards the beaches of the Ocean of Dreams.

“Holy shit,” Matthew’s curse behind you jarred you from your thoughts. It wasn’t hard to figure out what had caused him to curse, the Ocean of Dreams was churning in unhappiness. High above violent waters were storm clouds, flickering with lightning and letting out echoed of thunder. “Uh, you ever seen this before ma’am?”

“No,” You informed the raven, trying to see if you could feel what was wrong to have the Ocean of Dreams so agitated. “Matthew return to Lucienne, speak with her about this matter. Surely she has a clue.”

“Right on it, boss lady,” Matthew called before surging into the air and flying back to the palace as fast as he could. While Matthew was doing as you asked, you quickly hurried up to the waters edge. Oh yes, something had agitated the Ocean of Dreams, she was not happy. Without hesitation, you strode into the cold water, determined to figure this out. Morpheus was away on business, you could handle this, you could handle this.

When you were waist deep, you dove deeper, fully submerging yourself. The water, while a usual chilly cold, seemed to be colder than normal. Even the currents were stronger, more aggressive. You tried to look around for the physical manifestation of the Ocean in the form of your shadow figure, but you couldn’t see her anywhere. A smattering of bubbles escaped your lips as you sighed in frustration and swam further towards the depths. In your efforts to hunt down the physical manifestation of the Ocean of Dreams, you failed to notice that the currents were getting far too strong for you to swim through.

Now, you didn’t need to breathe oxygen thank to Morpheus making you immortal… but it wasn’t exactly comfortable holding your breath, or accidentally inhaling the salty water. So when your body began getting tossed and turned like you were in a hamster ball and it was being shaken, you started panicking. Floundering, the water around you began shifting from chilly cold to warm… and then back again. Cold. Warm. Cold. Warm. Cold. Warm. Your arms cartwheeled through the salt water until the temperature stayed warm and a bright light appeared. The storm must have finally disappeared!

You kicked your way towards the surface, hoping that Lucienne would know why the Ocean of Dreams had gotten so upset and the weather so irritable. The moment your face broke the surface you knew that something was very wrong.

First, it was way to hot for you to be in the dreaming. Second, it didn’t sound like you were in the dreaming. Third? When you opened your eyes you were most definitely not in the Dreaming!

“Ah shit,”

You spent a solid five minutes panicking about the fact that you were most definitely not in the Dreaming anymore. Morpheus was going to go ballistic when he found out. Then your panic increased because you didn’t know where you were, and you were in the middle of an ocean! At least you could see land, but it was a distance away from you. Still coming to grips with what you were dealing with because hello, some magic fuckery had just occurred and you were not kosher with it, you paddled towards a weird looking boat in the distance.

As you grew closer, you could hear shouting in a language you didn’t quite understand, and the sounds of screaming. Focusing on the words, the power Morpheus imbued within you shifted the strange words until you could understand them. Greek. A child had fallen overboard. Your eyes dropped to the water and you spotted a dark haired child splashing around violently. You didn’t think twice about quickly swimming towards the child as they disappeared beneath the surface of the water.

Dipping back below the oceans surface, you swam your way over to the squirming child, a girl. She was wrapped up in a beautiful white cloth that was currently hindering her ability to swim. You made to her and wrapped your arms around her thin body before looking up and kicking your way back to the surface. When your head broke the surface, you made sure you pulled the child up so her head too, was above the choppy waters.

She was clutching your forearm in a death grip, nails digging into your flesh. You were glad that she wasn’t trying to claw her way on top of you. Spitting out ocean water you’d accidentally swallowed, you began carefully side stroking your way over to the odd boat. You weren’t sure what was going to happen, given that people didn’t just appear it the middle of the ocean. As it turned out, luck was on your side and the greeks who hauled you and the little girl up onto the ship were entirely convinced that you were some lost noble… all because of of the clothes you wore.

Apparently only the rich and noble people of Greece could afford to wear purple clothing.

The boat was taking the little girl, a daughter of one of the nobles in Athens (how the hell did you end up in Ancient Greece?), home after visiting her aunt in Crete. She’d accidentally tumbled over the side and now refused to let you go for fear of a repeated event. So you were awkwardly standing around in your ‘strange clothes’ while the little girl held onto you like a baby monkey. At least when the boat docked at the harbor of the ancient city of Athens, in all its blazing glory, you were offered a cloak to cover your strange clothing.

Clearly the little girl you’d rescued came from a very rich family, because the carriage that you’d been herded into was lavish. You sat inside it while warriors on horses surrounded you, and spent a good twenty minutes trying to think of what the hell you were going to do, let alone say, because this was way out of your realm of expertise.

“What is your name?” Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. Well, they already thought you were some lost noble or princess… might as well play it off as some greek god blessing or something… hopefully the gods wouldn’t be too upset with you. Not that they would be able to raise hand towards an Endless’ wife…

“You may call me Elpis,” You told the little girl. “What is yours?”

“Kynna, are you the great spirit Elpis mama told me about?” Soft brown eyes gazed at you with such reverence, you wanted to say yes and make her dreams come true. But you couldn’t exactly claim to be someone you were not. You stroked your hand over her still damp hair.

“I’m afraid it is only a name sake,” You replied, lifting your gaze to see several grand buildings pass by as the carriage rattled and shook. “I was lost at sea but the gods brought me to you.”

“Well if you’re lost… you can just live with us while we find your family!” Kynna exclaimed with a wide beaming smile. “Panathenaia is starting tomorrow, they’ll be lots of parties and pretty dresses, and we get to give a new peplos to Athena!”

“I don’t think that will be up to me,” Your words didn’t hinder the excited babbles of Kynna, and while she continued to talk animatedly, you mulled over what you were going to say when you got to your destination.

You didn’t have to say much, the greek noble woman of Kynna’s family, along with the other aristocratic women from surrounding families living in the housing surrounding the communal living space and baths, were entirely convinced you were an aristocrat who had some how fallen overboard and lost most of her memory. You were fine playing amnesiac as it meant less questions. You just had to get used to a different lifestyle while you tried to figure out what the hell had happened to you.

A circle of woman around your age, Merope, Agapia, and Helike, had taken you under their wing while servants scurried about in preparation for the Panathenaia. Your modern clothes had been ditched for a silk peplum that draped around your body and showed skin in several places, and you’d been adorned with a multitude of jewelry by Kynna’s father for saving his little girl. In essence, you looked exactly like the woman everyone thought you to be: Elpis, a greek aristocrat with amnesia.

You’d spent the first couple of days hiding out in Kynna’s household, not sure of yourself and not wanting to make trouble for the family, but your trio of new friends had convinced you to come out to the communal space on the promise of seeing several handsome men and enjoyable drink and food. Eye candy and snacks, you were down for that. So you were walking with your gaggle of friends and contributing to the objectification of several fine greek men who had arrived home for the Panathenaia, when Merope had wanted to visit the sun room to see what special guests had arrived.

“Oh I heard Theos returned from Sparta looking for a wife.” Agapia gushed as she combed her fingers through her hair.

“Forgive me for not immediately fawning over this Theos… who is he?” You asked as Merope and Helike giggled.

“He’s Athen’s most prized warrior, competed in the last Olympic Games and won several events.” Agapia explained to you as your group walked beneath a trellis tunnel of roses. She went on to explain, in detail, every millimeter of the specimen known as Theos and by the time Helike was telling Agapia to stop drooling, you were very interested in seeing if this Greek was as handsome and strong as he sounded.

“Oh don’t stop now, you’ve gotten me interested,” You mused with a soft laugh while passing a group of men who eyed each and everyone one of you. Your laugh was like a gentle bell softly ringing and easily drew eyes. Helike rolled her eyes, Agapia was oblivious (far too busy drooling), and Merope fluttered her eyelashes but stayed silent.

“I am sure there shall be a man at the festival who willwin your hand, Elpis,” Agapia said while holding her hands to her chest. “Because while we all know that you’ve got heads turning, you appear to have very little interest in those we have crossed paths with so far. Mark my words, you shall find someone you desire by the end of Panathenaia.”

You rolled your eyes, you’d humor the women. They’d been so kind and generous to you despite you being a total stranger… but it wasn’t like you could admit that you were already married, and didn’t even belong in this era.

“As you say, Pia,”

“Oh, I can’t believe it!” Merope gasped quietly the moment you entered a large room with many lounging chairs and dozens of greeks laying about. You hummed in question and looked at her. “Lord Oneiros has decided to be in attendance!”

Something perked up within you at the mention of Oneiros, and your head snapped to the dark haired beauty in confusion.

“Sorry, did you say Oneiros?” You asked, your voice coming out in an odd tone. You’d heard that name before, when Morpheus had assisted Calliope upon hearing her call. She referred to him as Oneiros. Morpheus was Oneiros. How could he be here? The girls gathered around you and gestured to a corner of the room. Your eyes followed and you felt your heart freeze your chest. This wasn’t possible, was it?

How could it be that your dark and broody husband, was sitting in the corner of the room dressed in robes of black, complete with a laurel crown perched upon his midnight curls? You trembled in place, fighting against the urge to charge forwards and throw yourself at him because you really missed your husband and just wanted to go home. But as you gazed at the Dream Lord, you began picking up on his mood, his temperament. He was surrounded by a cloud of pain that you could feel in your heart, deep within his beautiful blue eyes was a raw hurt that nearly pulsated from his being. Oh. Oh fuck. Ancient Greece… Calliope the Muse… Orpheus. As if feeling your stare, sharp blue eyes shifted and met yours. No recognition could be found within their depths. He didn’t know you. But he was intrigued.  

“I wonder who the lucky women will be this year,” Agapia softly wondered, the other two agreeing with her sentiments. “They say he is a voracious lover, indulging in the delights of many before finally picking the ones he desires.”

A dark eyebrow rose ever so slightly accompanied by the smallest of smirks, and something within you cracked. He was Morpheus, but he wasn’t yours. You felt like you couldn’t breathe and quickly tore your eyes away from those of the Dream Lord.

“We should fill our bellies before the rest of the men arrive, the gods know they’ll eat it all,” You rushed out, your heart pounding in your chest painfully. Herding your friends in the opposite direction of Oneiros, you were desperate to get away from the being that you, one day, would call yours. 

Date Published: 12/30/23

Last Edit: 12/30/23

Masterlist | Next

#dream the endless #morpheus x reader #sandman x reader #dream of the endless x reader #dream the endless x reader #morpheus #the sandman #dream of the endless #the sandman netflix #lord morpheus

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

Horror Movies Pt. 2 | Neil Lewis x fem!reader

Summary: She shares a special passion for horror movies with her boss, Neil Lewis. But it doesn't end there, she also shares his secrets... or at least the ones he can keep himself. He's been keeping one from her but maybe a night of adventure will break the silence and scare them to their senses.

Warnings: Drinking, semi-public sex, boss/employee relationship, struggles with self-image, spying, invasion of privacy, slight disrespect for the dead, smut, moments of miscommunication and assumed consent, unprotected sex, oral, and some fluff.

word count: 3229k

Lady Grinning Soul- David Bowie 🎶

Freak- Lana Del Rey 🎵

Minors do not interact!

“What are you doing, Neil?” She whispered, not wanting to trespass. 

“Having a little adventure since our act of chivalry was all for naught.” He shrugged and smiled goofily. 

“You want to play golf?” She looked between the dark green and Neil’s face. 

“Nah, not golf.” 

She stared at him for a little while longer before ducking beneath the fence. He followed her and they started to cross the green, looking up at the star studded sky. 

“The stars are so pretty tonight.” She pointed up at the clusters of twinkling lights. 

“Wait until you see what I have to show you.” He smiled mischievously and took her wrist. He pulled her across the golf course and through the connecting gate. 

“Where are we now?” She looked around and noticed the distant groupings of headstones. “Are we in a cemetery?” 

“Bingo.” Neil laughed and let her wrist go, running ahead a little. The graveyard was cool and still, surrounded on all sides by tall shrubbery. They climbed the short hill up onto the main stretch of green, walking alongside the grave markers. 

“This feels like the beginning of a horror movie.” She recalled Neil’s previous statement from the morning and he laughed. 

“I like to come here at night. It’s so peaceful and I like to look at the people’s names. It helps put my life into perspective.” He led her to a small mausoleum beside a weeping willow and swiped his arm across his forehead. 

“Isn’t it beautiful?” He gestured around and she nodded. 

“It really is but… what does this have to do with the bra?” 

“Ah, well since you can’t use it and Nancy doesn’t want it back, I thought we could leave it as an offering… here.” 

“Who do you want to give it to?” 

“Someone who died the same day that one of us was born.” He stated as he had already begun looking. She helped him and they passed the lines of headstones, checking each name for their respective birth and death dates. They wandered through a few plots until they found a secluded embankment. There was an older headstone with Neil’s birthday listed as the person’s death date. 

“Here.” Neil pointed to the numbers on the stone and smiled up at her from the ground where he was crouched. She joined him on the ground and nodded. “Edgar Allen… that’s almost too weird. It must be a fake name. Edgar Allen? He just needs a ‘Poe.’” 

She trailed her fingers over his name and nodded. 

“So, how do we do this?”

“What, are you saying that you’ve never left an expensive bra at a dead person’s grave?” He joked and she almost laughed out loud when he put his hand over her mouth, shushing her with a smile. 

“You’ll wake the dead.” He whispered and she smiled against his hand, her eyes boring into his. She hoped that her eyes were telling him what she wanted or how happy she was to be with him, even if it was in a fucking cementary. He removed his hand slowly and cleared his throat. Sweat coating his forehead, trapping a few strands of his longer dark hair. 

“We, uh, let’s just drape it over the headstone.” He put the bra over the long rectangular top of the stone. 

“We should say a few words.” She offered and cleared her throat quietly, “May I?” She glanced over at him. Neil was staring at her, his lips parted partly. 

“Uh, er, yeah. Of course.” He sniffed and looked back at the headstone. 

“Mr. Allen, we leave you this offering in hopes that you will bestow upon us the grace of your guidance and experience. Inspire us to be brave and forward with our… desires,” she couldn’t think of a better word, “Help us imagine ways of living our lives to the fullest.” She added. When she glanced over, Neil was nodding almost absentmindedly. 

“Give us a little adventure in our lives, Edgar.” He clarified. 

“Mhmm.” She hummed in agreement and they waited in silence for a few minutes, taking in the serene peacefulness of the graveyard. 

“If this were a horror movie, we would be-” She broke the silence but the force of Neil’s body cut her off. He’d kissed her, his hands snaking behind her head and pulling her into an aggressive kiss. She pulled away breathlessly, he was panting too.

“What-” She started.

“I’m sorry, christ. I thought you were… sending me a signal.” He stumbled over his words. 

“You thought I was asking you to make a move on top of someone’s grave?” She raised a suspicious eyebrow and he chuckled, embarrassed. 

“I don’t know what I was thinking. I just… oh I don’t know.” He trailed off and stood, putting his hands back into his pocket and turning away from the grave. She followed him quickly. 

“What, Neil?” She stumbled after him, up the embankment. He spun around and held a hand against his head.

“I just… I thought that lately there was something different between us.” He looked away. 

“Neil…” she frowned and fought the anger in her voice, “you just fucked someone last night. I don’t know if I should believe anything that you’re saying right now.” She crossed her arms across her chest and looked up at the sky. 

“I, well we didn’t actually… have sex.” He mumbled. 

“What do you mean?” She raised her eyebrow. 

“God, this is so fucking embarrassing,” he pulled down on his face and trilled his lips. 

“What, what is it?” He nearly smiled, finding him too funny to take seriously. 

“Well, she came into the store right before closing last night and put on this whole act about which movie to pick… kind of like the girl in the store today. I told her to pick Arsenic and Old Lace… yada yada yada, she ends up flirting and leaning over the counter, batting her eyelashes at me. I’ll admit that I succumbed to her but as soon as she got me on the couch, she started… eh slapping me and calling me a bad boy and look, I totally get kinks but it was a little too weird for me.” 

“So what happened?” She encouraged him to go on and he looked back at her, his heart fluttering in his chest. He sighed and looked at his feet. 

“We watched the movie and the whole time she wouldn’t stop talking, so she missed basically everything. And when the movie was over, she started kissing me and undressing herself. And when she got my pants down, I couldn’t get it up. So, that’s what happened.” 

She gasped and immediately clamped a hand over her mouth.

“I’m sorry. It isn’t funny, Neil,” she apologized but he shook his head. “Whatever, go ahead and laugh. I don’t know how it happened but I just wasn’t attracted to her. I don’t need a girl who’s a film geek like me but I can’t stand people who just talk through a movie or pay absolutely no attention to what’s happening. There’s not point in putting it on if you’re not going to pay attention. And not to mention she looked-” He cut himself off and chucked. 

“What?” She waited for him to finish but he shook his head. 

“It’s silly.” He sniffed. 

“We’ve already gotten this far, you might as well tell me.” 

He cocked his head, staring at her face in the faded light of the crescent moon. He inhaled deeply and told her, point blank. 

“She looked like you,” he took another breath, “she looked like you but she was nothing like you. I realized that I was only humoring her because she looked like you and for some reason, my subconscious had tricked me into thinking she was you. And after that, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” He watched her for her reaction and she exhaled shakily, not knowing how to respond. 

“What happened after that?” She asked quietly. 

“I told her that it wasn’t a good night and she packed up. In the heat of the moment, she must have forgotten her bra but look,” he took a step closer, “that doesn’t mean our relationship needs to change. It's not like I’m in love with you or obsessed, I just realized that the person that I was really attracted to this whole time has been you.” He looked down into her eyes. “I didn’t have time to explain it this morning and I knew how it looked so…” He shrugged, “I actually haven’t slept with anyone in weeks. Ever since you got the haircut actually, I guess I haven’t stopped thinking about you whether or not I was conscious of it.” 

“Jonathan asked me out.” Was all she could think to say and Neil chuckled lightly. 

“That’s a minor detail.”

“He’s one of your best friends.” 

“And because he’s one of my best friends, he’ll understand why I’m doing this.” 

“What if I don’t like you back?” She narrowed her eyes, wanting to stand her ground a little longer. He took one more step closer, their feet almost touching and he leaned over slightly, his breath brushing her forehead.

“Do you like me?” He asked softly. 

“I don’t know,” she lied. He brushed his lips against hers. 

“Do you want to find out?” He teased her and her breath caught, nearly choking her. She couldn’t speak from the nerves paralyzing her, so she just nodded. He rubbed his lips against her lips, not kissing her yet. She brushed her nose against the soft spot of skin below his nose and above his lip, standing on the balls of her feet. Her hands came up and stopped midair, unsure how or where to touch him. Turning his head slightly to the side he kissed her. His hands went from the top of her thighs to her waist and then up to her neck, which he held in place while he moved his head to kiss her. He stood still and reciprocated his slow kisses as best as she could. She put her hands on the outside of his and wrapped her fingers around each wrist. He sucked on her lip and she let her head fall back, giving him a better angle. She stumbled back a little and he caught her in his arms, his lips never skipping a beat as he sucked her and explored her. 

“Are we going to fuck in a graveyard?” She panted, pulling herself away from his hungry mouth. Neil smiled and looked around at the deserted cemetery, empty with the exception of the dead. He shrugged. 

“Do you think they’ll hold it against us? Haunt us for the rest of our lives?” She smiled.

“Are you kidding? They’re probably dying for a show.” He cracked himself up over his own pun and she rolled her eyes affectionately. She kissed him again before he could make another joke and pulled him into the alcove of a mausoleum. There was a stone casket beside the mausoleum and they stumbled over to it, wordlessly deciding to fuck against it. He pressed her back up against the cold stone which felt amazing in the humid summer air. He groped her breasts and she slid a hand down Neil’s chest below the waistband of his jeans. She reached her hand into his underwear and took a hold of his hard cock. She smiled against his lips. 

“It obviously wasn’t a problem this time, was it?” She teased and he groaned, looking up at the sky. 

“No, no, it wasn’t.” He laughed breathlessly as she rubbed her hand down his length, twisting her palm at the end. He went back to kissing her but broke off to whine and pant occasionally as she jerked him off. She pulled her hand back out and spat on it before returning it back into his pants. She fondled his balls and squeezed them, making him gasp against her lips. He reached a hand up her camisole and wrestled his hand beneath her bra. He was definitely a breast man. 

She removed her hand from his pants and pulled his pelvis against her by looping her fingers through his belt loops. With his free hand, Neil unbuttoned her jeans and unzipped the fly. She did the same for his jeans and turned around, sticking her butt against his hard crotch. 

“Fuck…” Neil looked at her ass and felt himself get even harder. He pulled her back against him by holding her shoulder. He kissed her bare neck and carded his hands through her cropped hair. “You’re so beautiful.” He whispered and she sighed softly. At that moment, she felt infinitely beautiful, so beautiful that it would last a lifetime. He pulled down his pants slightly and glanced around before bending her over again. She pulled down her jeans and rubbed her underwear against him like before. She held her hands flat against the stone casket monument and opened her mouth, nearly moaning in anticipation of Neil’s cock inside her. He slowly rolled down her underwear, the hipster style that covered her butt. They were white, ironically. 

Exposing her ass, he moaned and reached around to her cunt and rubbed her clit. 

“God, fuck me already, Neil.” She pleaded and he nodded. 

“Are you wet enough? I don’t have a condom.” 

“I’m soaking wet, Neil. Don’t worry about the condom. It’s ok with me.” 

“Ok, ok.” He smiled and spat on his hand, rubbing the saliva over her folds. Then he did it again, smearing his spit on his own cock. She gasped loudly when he pushed his tip inside her. He grabbed her hips and tried to stop himself from rutting into her. 

“Fuck, go slow… you’re so big.” She whimpered and moaned as he slowly pushed further in. He gasped pitifully and resisted the urge to cum immediately like a schoolboy. 

“Jesus, you feel so good.” He panted and watched as his cock went further inside her. She clutched her uterus, trying to allow him to enter her. He whined as she did so and gave a few tiny thrusts. 

“Ah, ahh.” He moaned weakly and started to fuck her more regularly, feeling her walls begin to mold around him. “Oh fuck, its so good.” He pulled her hips against him with a harder thrust and she cried out softly, her hands sweating against the stone. As she became wetter, he slid in and out faster, hitting the bottom of her uterus each time. 

“Jesus, Neil!” She moaned and pushed herself against him, wanting him further inside. 

“I can’t go any farther, honey. You’re not big enough.” He whispered against her neck and continued to fuck her with the same primal sexuality as a dog in heat. She hummed to keep herself from screaming out. 

“Fuck yes, this is so good.” He praised her and went faster, his pale legs shaking with pleasure. He felt like he was losing his virginity all over again, needing to come already and they had just started. He pulled out and spun her around to kiss her, his hand holding her chin up to reciprocate his kiss. He switched places with him and pushed him onto the ground where he was sitting on the grass. She kicked off her jeans and underwear, still in her shoes and socks and straddled him. He whimpered as she lowered herself onto him and sat completely on him. She shifted her hips back and forth, wanting him to stay completely inside her. His back was against the stone. When she started to feel her orgasm approaching he started to move up and down, snapping on top of his cock in quick movements that made them both cry out.

“Mmmm, fuck…” Neil panted and looked up at her, studying how her head fell back and her neck arched out towards him. He looked down and watched how her cunt took him, so wet that precum dribbled down his cock onto his pubic hair. 

“Um, God, Neil, I’m gonna cum.” She panted and he smiled. 

“Come here,” he wrapped his arms around her and turned her around again, laying her flat on her back on the grass and thrusted into her again. She gasped and clutched a handful of grass above her head. She wrapped her thighs around his waist and he sat on his knees, pulling her up to meet him. He fucked her hard and fast, pounding his pelvis against hers. The muscles in his butt clenched as he fucked her desperately. She covered her mouth and cried out in pleasure. She squirted but he continued to fuck her, chasing his own high. 

“I’m so close.” He panted and ran his hand down her chin. She looked so beautiful below him, mouth still slightly agape in a pleasurable ‘O’ shape. “Fuck! Oh my God.” He cried and pulled out quickly so that he wouldn’t cum inside her. She rolled over and sucked him off, allowing him to fuck her throat weakly as he finally spilled him cum down her throat. She rolled her tongue around his cock and licked the tip as he pulled out, panting like he had just run a race. He collapsed beside her on the ground and laughed in disbelief. She laughed too, covering her face with her hands. 

“Fucking hell.” She laughed into her hands. “That was the best I ever had,” she admitted and he smiled proudly. 

“Honestly it was mine too, and my first time in a cemetery, I’ll admit.” 

“What, you’re saying to don’t fuck all your girlfriends here?” She teased and he shook his head, rolling it side to side on the ground. A pleasant silence settled between them as they caught their breath. She tried to ignore the fact that she mentioned girlfriends. Neil flopped his head to the side and watched her, her long eyelashes fluttering as she blinked. 

“Is that what you are now?” He asked.

“Am I what?”

“Are you my girlfriend now?” He clarified with a small smirk. 

“Is that your way of asking me to be your girlfriend?” She laughed and looked away.

“No…” He rolled on top of her and kissed her all over her face, “this is my way of asking. Will… you… be… my… girlfriend?” He asked between feverish kisses. She giggled and propped herself up on her elbows, kissing him back. He slowed his kisses down and she pulled away with a happy sigh. 

“I guess so.” She said finally and he raised his shoulder to his ears, looking around in childish glee.

“Oh, come on!” She pushed him playfully away and stood. He helped her change back into her clothes and they fixed their clothing. She combed through Neil’s hair with her fingers and nodded her approval. Neil looked down at his watch and nodded. 

“The store opens in exactly seven hours, whatever will we do with our time?” He wrapped his arms around her, clamping her arms against her sides and kissing her neck. 

“I have an idea.” She smiled around his kisses.

“What?” 

“Take me home.” 

“What if you’re a serial killer?” He faked a sense of suspicion. 

“Then I guess we’ll just have to find out.” She teased and kissed him deeply, her index finger pressed against the hollow of his cheek.

#cillian x fem!reader #cillian murphy #watching the detectives #cillian fanfic #fanfiction #neil lewis x fem!reader #neil lewis smut #neil lewis x reader #neil lewis #gumshoe video #smut

[azsazz]

Cupid's Chokehold

Azriel x Reader

Summary: You are a Cupid, a nearly extinct creature of Prythian. When you get caught trying to shoot Elain with your arrow, well, it's a little hard to explain what you're trying to do.

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 2,966

Notes: is it finally time for this?! 😍😌

[Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7]

_________________________________________

You take aim, an arrow notched in your bow, string drawn taut to your cheek, focused solely on your target: the female in the lilac dress as she snips wildflowers at their stems, collecting them for her bouquet. The tall orange-haired male that’s pretending to read under the weeping willow is as much of a metaphor as you’ve ever seen, watching her longingly. You take a calming breath, making sure your sights are set right where you want the bolt to follow.

The string of your bow starts to slip through your fingers as you’re about to release, but your hold tightens and your breath and body stills as a cool, sharp blade is tucked into the underside of your throat.

His breath is hot in your ear as he growls, “Put your weapon down or I’ll slit your fucking throat.”

The low baritone of his voice sends shivers crawling up your spine as you straighten, the cold knife against the swell of your throat awakens all of your senses as he presses down with warning.

You watch as the male beneath the tree’s head perks up, his metal eye gleaming in the light of the setting sun as he scans the area, alerted. Surely he hasn’t noticed you, but his gaze falters in your direction, brows furrowing as he stands, calling out to the female in the pretty dress, ushering her towards the house with a final survey of the yard.

You let the arrow relax in your grip, moving your bow down to your side where the male behind you snatches it from your hands, still a steady hold on the weapon pressed to your neck. A single movement would have the blade tearing into your flesh.

Biting your tongue and curling your fists, you hold back a frustrated noise. You’d been trailing them for weeks. The young female always tucked inside the large estate or in her gardens, while the male watched from the windows above. He must be a traveler, for he doesn’t look like he’d belong to this court, with his autumnal colored clothing and the fact that you’d only seen him on a few occasions, but the two were never together.

You knew they’d have a great relationship with a little help from you.

“I don’t mean any harm,” you raise your hands in surrender, flinching as you hear him toss away your weapon. The clang from the metal of your bow has you hissing as his knife cuts a razor thin line across your throat and you stumble back a step into his hard chest.

He grabs your arm with a firm grip, sheathing his weapon at his hip as he restrains you, pinning you flush against him. He ignores your sweet scent that puffs up when he does, mind going cloudy with it for a second, glaring down at the top of your head.

“Your weapon proves otherwise,” he grunts. You try to crane your head up over your shoulder to look at your assailant but the sun is shining too brightly for you to make out his features.

You gasp as blackness sweeps up, consuming the both of you, slipping you into the folds of shadow and darkness. Your hands grasp for something to hold onto, the feeling of falling through a void takes the breath from your lungs but he’s holding your wrists in one of his and there’s nothing for you to clutch to.

Your knees buckle as the floor returns beneath your feet.

He wrenches you up, arms twisting painfully behind your back until you’ve regained your footing, and then he’s shoving you away from him.

A murmur of something in a language you don’t understand has the faelights turning on, ever so dimly. Squinting, you can barely make out anything in the room, even the male seems to have disintegrated into the blackness. You search the darkened room for anything, for him, to come back, just so that you’re not alone, when your eyes snag on the wall of gleaming, polished weapons hung nicely – menacingly – and ready for use.

You swallow harshly. A torture chamber.

And there. He’s standing leisurely against the wall, arms crossed tightly over his chest, just…watching you.

“I mean it,” you stutter, hugging yourself firmly. You’re sure that you can see your breath frosting in the cool air. “I wasn’t going to hurt them.”

You’re not sure why you’re trying to explain yourself. Clearly this male is an act first, ask questions later type, but there’s something about those dark eyes glowing in the soft blue light from his stones that makes him even more threatening.

He doesn’t respond, doesn’t move from his spot and it leaves an unsettled feeling in your stomach. You’re frozen beneath his gaze, pinned to your spot by it, not that you’d dare to move anyway. In fact, you’re lucky you’re not chained to the large stone table separating the two of you.

It’s a stalemate, him staring at you while you stare back at him. Your teeth clack together from the chill that’s burrowed its way into your bones is the only sound to be heard.

He can’t say that he feels bad for the pretty female he’s caught. You were trying to kill Elain after all. Eventually he straightens, eyes flickering with something that’s gone too quickly for you to make out. He takes a step closer to you and you take one back.

“Come here.”

“Why? So you can use one of those knives to carve me up?” You retreat another step as he advances, eyes glimmering with sick delight at the chase you’re giving him.

“No,” his tone lowers further, “But I will if you don’t.”

Your jaw aches from trying to stop your teeth from chattering as you weigh your options. Walk directly to him and face the brutality of his bare hands or, you think, eyeing the wall of torture weapons, retreat further and feel the wrath of the metal against your skin, forged for sadistic truths.

He doesn’t care. Either way he will get what he wants.

But today is not the day he gets to interrogate the beautiful female sneaking her way across his lands.

You step forward, keeping your eyes locked on his. You’d like to reach for a weapon on the wall as you pass but it’s so cold you can’t feel your fingers, and surely you’d be stopped before you could land a well placed blow.

If only you had your bow.

When you’re within arms reach he grabs you again, the same darkness swallowing you once more.

You yelp, wrapping your arms around his neck and holding on for dear life, your icy fingertips pressing into the skin at the nape of his neck has his breath hitching in his throat though you are unable to hear it over the racing of your heart thrumming in your ears.

Light blinds you as the shadows disperse. You squint against the brightness, releasing your captor and retreating, getting a good look at him once your eyes adjust.

He’s a handsome male, dressed in fitted fighting gear that leaves little to the imagination, his taut muscles straining beneath the fabric. His hazel eyes glow, marking each and every movement you make, where your eyes roam across his body, widening when you see his wings. It’d been too dark in the chamber to see them, but as they’re tucked tightly behind his back, well, you’d never quite seen anything like them before up close. They certainly are not like your own, hidden away.

The door creaks open and it’s then that your attention is drawn away from the captivating male. Two more enter, filling the room with even more dangerous auras. One, who looks like he holds all the power of this court, violet eyes acknowledging the male beside you, and the other, taller than both of the others, sizing you up as soon as he enters.

It’s apparent that they are from the same lineage, with their dark hair and caramel skin. They have the same wings, though you think that the warrior who’d stopped you has the biggest ones.

You thought the Lord would be the one to speak first but it’s you who’s blurting out beneath their heavy gazes, “Where’s my bow?”

“What is your name?” he counters, as if he’d been waiting for you to break the silence. Why, you didn’t know.

“(Y/N).”

“Welcome to the Night Court, (Y/N),” he greets. “I’m High Lord Rhysand, and this is Cassian. I see you’ve already met my shadowsinger.”

Shadowsinger? What the hell is a shadowsinger? You wonder, but glancing at the male beside you, the tendrils of inky smoke curling around him protectively, you see his connection to the shadows. Singer though, you doubted it.

“My bow,” you inquire again.

“Your bow,” Rhysand echoes, picking at a piece of lint on his finely pressed coat. “Ah, yes, what an interesting weapon indeed.” He reaches into the folds of space, your gleaming weapon appearing in his grasp, the honeyed metallic soaking up the sunshine streaming through the windows. “For something made almost completely of gold, it sure is light.”

Your brows furrow at the sight before you. You’d never seen magic quite like this before, how he could manipulate the air around him into a pocket world for his–your–belongings. 

“It’s not a weapon,” you protest, stalking towards the male to retrieve your beloved longbow. The two males look like they’re ready to pounce on you but the High Lord only smirks and just as you’re about to lunge for the curved gold it disappears again.

“If it’s not a weapon why does it look like one and why was it pointed at my sister-in-law?” Rhysand muses, walking around you to sit on the edge of the fancy oak desk, leaving you standing between his two guards.

All on purpose. You’re already playing right into his hands.

You refrain from speaking. Your bow can be used as a weapon if needed, though its intended use is not to harm, but the opposite.

The males violet eyes glimmer at your silence, “This will be much easier if you speak. Unless you’d rather go back to Azriel’s chamber?” he ponders coolly. 

You eye the male at your side again. Finally, a name to go with the stoic face that has been threatening you. Azriel.

“Give me back my bow and I’ll leave,” you reason, trying to keep your voice steady as you turn back to the male in charge. You don’t need to shoot your arrow at the female in the garden. There will be other challenging cases.

But none as interesting as those two.

He tuts, swinging a leg back and forth, a well practiced feline smirk gracing his lips. “That’s not how this works. Not until you give us some answers.”

“Like what?” you ask, catching your lip nervously between your teeth. You’ve never been caught before, and by someone so powerful. The males reeked of power, protectiveness, scrutinizing you under their harsh gazes and towering over you like a child. It’s unsettling to say the least and your stomach twists with worry.

“What are you doing in my land? Following my sister?” he questions again. Your skin crawls at the gentle caress of him inside of your mind, testing your walls.

You cut him a harsh glare that has Azriel angling into you, prepared to catch you should you decide to strike.

“Yes,” you admit, though you don’t release the information that you’d been roaming his land undetected for weeks, “It’s my job.”

“And what exactly do you do that involves a weapon if you don’t intend to kill anyone?” his tone is clipped, his eyes hardening at the thought of you murdering Elain in his own gardens.

“I’m a Cupid.”

“A Cupid?” he asks incredulously, eyebrows itching to twitch into a furrow. The way he says it feels condescending and your cheeks heat as you look towards the ground.

“What the hell is a Cupid?” Cassian blurts, his curiosity getting the better of him. He sounds genuinely concerned, like he’s going to catch something from you. He shifts wearily away as he looks between his friends, regarding their own confusion.

“A Cupid is a being made of love and desire,” you explain, glaring at the male. You’re sure your entire face is redder than the siphons littering his leathers. “Our arrows are conduits of attraction and affection. They form this sort of bond, once the two parties are struck. You call it a mate, I believe. You haven’t heard of us because we’re a rare breed and not so easily caught.”

“You must not be very good at your job then, if you’re standing here before us,” Azriel comments. His voice is even but you can hear the clear pride of how well he thinks he’s done.

“Or maybe you’re too good at yours,” you bite back and the apathetic male raises an eyebrow slightly.

“Why didn’t you shoot your arrow at Elain weeks ago?” the High Lord presses.

You blanch. You hadn’t figured they’d known about you being in these lands for that long. They were powerful beings indeed.

At your surprise, the handsome High Lord continues, “I am not a monster, I let creatures in my lands be unless they threaten my people.”

“What about their kind?” You gesture to the two males flanking you. You’d seen exactly what their kind could do when you were up in the bitter mountains, following Elain and her sisters as they visited a friend.

It was horrible, what you’d seen. The males took whatever they wanted, treated their women less than filth, their wings clipped and forced to do chores. You’d left at the sight of a young female screaming and fighting so they wouldn’t clip her, throwing up in the bushes outside of the camp. 

You would kill anyone who would try and touch your wings, hidden now as they always were when you weren’t flying.

Darkness fills the room, choking you as the stars in Rhysand’s violet eyes wink out. Clearly you’ve overstepped, insulted the King of these lands with your words. A challenge.

“You know nothing of my court,” he growls and you gag, staggering backwards, tripping over your feet as your hands claw at your throat, the inky smoke constricting your airway. When he’s sure you’ve understood not to insult him again, he releases you, spluttering and coughing, gasping for air.

“I didn’t shoot her,” you wheeze, figuring that you better start talking before he really decides that it will be easier to kill the intruder in his lands, “Because they have to be struck together, by the same arrow. If I only hit the female, I'd have to retrieve it and find the male. It’s easier if the two are in one place.”

“I didn’t mean to insult your kind,” you apologize softly but the High Lord doesn’t turn around. Cassian lends you a hand, a soft expression on his face and you take it with an apologetic look which he accepts with a nod.

“Cupids are rare because there are only a few of my kind left. Hunted down by jealous individuals or those that want to use us for bad.”

“Bad?” Rhysand asks over his shoulder. He’s crossed to where he keeps his strongest liquor, pouring himself two fingers full of the amber liquid, knocking it back before splashing some more. You wince, embarrassed that you’ve made him feel this way, but you continue on.

You nod, your face contorted in a tight grimace. “Making the wrong two people fall in love.”

The silence is deafening as he stills, spine straightening as he’s reminded of his own mother and father: mated but not meant to be.

“Why them?” he asks, trying to keep his voice from wavering and there’s no room for arguing or changing the subject. He clutches the glass tighter in his hand. “Why not someone else?”

“He has already been shot, she has not. I’m just finishing the job.”

The tension is palpable, silent but screaming all at the same time. You have a feeling that you’ve said something you shouldn’t have, again, but you’re unsure of what. Azriel hasn’t stopped openly glaring at you and you liked him better when you couldn’t read his facial expressions. 

The shadowsinger scoffs, “What if she doesn’t want it?”

And maybe he’s still mourning the loss of the love he never had, that beautiful sweet sister of his High Lady. 

You cut him a glance, “It’s not my decision to make.”

“Like hell it isn’t,” he explodes and you take a step back at the absolute fury in his eyes. Cassian even goes so far as to take a half step in front of you, shielding you from his brother, whose shadows curl up around his shoulders like a crown of darkness. “You go around shooting people without their consent, making them ‘fall in love’ or whatever bullshit you’re spewing–”

“The Mother wills it,” you grit, interrupting him, hands curled into fists at your sides. This is why you didn’t let people get close enough to trap you, because of the nonbelievers. “They choose whether or not to accept the bond, I just make it known that there is one.”

“Unfortunately I cannot let you shoot my sister with your arrow,” Rhys breaks up the both of you with a scowl.

“I understand,” you nod graciously, “If you get me my bow I’ll be on my way.”

“No,” he says and you swallow thickly, a bad feeling coiling in your gut, “You’ll be staying here for the time being. With us.”

“W-why?”

“Because I have a feeling there’s more to you than you’re letting on, Cupid.”

#azrielxreader #azriel x you #azriel x reader #azriel/reader #azriel/you #acotar #acomaf #azriel #acowar #azsazz #shadowsinger

[p4p1l0nn]

“GHOSTS OF US”

pairing: johnny x reader

genre: angst.

a/n: [edited] just wanted to mention this johnny fic is a standalone read — no sequels in sight. author’s just feeling a bit whipped for johnny and decided to whip up another tale.

johnny, a solemn expression etched on his face, struggled to find words that could stitch back the fabric of their unraveling connection.

“i can't explain it,” he admitted, his gaze dropping to the floor. “the spark, the fire we had — it's just not there anymore.”

a mix of pain and confusion in your eyes, implored, “was our love just a temporary illusion, johnny? something you could discard when it became inconvenient?”

johnny, grappling with the weight of his own choices, insisted, “i didn’t plan for this. i never wanted to hurt you.”

“but you have, johnny. every day, a little more,” you sighed, your voice trembling like fragile leaves in the wind. “it’s like watching the person i love disappear, leaving only a hollow shell behind.”

as the room seemed to tighten, johnny struggled with his next admission. “i thought i could find happiness elsewhere. i thought i needed something more.”

your heart breaking with each uttered word, questioned, “and what about me? wasn’t i enough? or was i just a placeholder until you found whatever it is you’re looking for?”

“i don’t have answers,” johnny confessed, a painful honesty in his voice. “all i know is that staying feels like a lie, and leaving feels like tearing my own heart out.”

you, grappling with the harsh reality, whispered, “so you choose to break us instead? to break me?”

“i’m sorry,” johnny uttered, his voice a fragile apology in the air. “i never wanted to be the one who stopped loving. but i can’t pretend anymore.”

as johnny’s apology lingered in the air, you took a deep breath, your heart heavy with the weight of acceptance. “i understand, johnny.” you whispered, your voice carrying the strength of bittersweet understanding. “sometimes, we have to let go to find our way back.”

silence. no response. johnny stood silently in the stillness, his shoulders weighed down by the burden of unspoken words.

your voice a mere whisper on the wind, repeated softly, “let it go, johnny.” the breeze, once a gentle companion, now carried a sorrowful tune, mourning the love that had slipped through the cracks. johnny, lost in the echoes of his own thoughts, mumbled another apology.

“let me go, johnny,” you urged, your words hanging in the air like fragile petals. “it’s been years.” in a heartbreaking twist, johnny was confronted with the truth — you had left this world long ago. the connection that seemed so real existed only in his own mind.

he knelt beside your grave, the cool breeze carrying whispers of forgotten memories. the tombstone stood as a stoic witness to the fading echoes of your shared past.

a lone willow, its branches weeping like johnny’s heart, cast shadows upon the weathered gravestones. the sun dipped below the horizon, leaving hues of melancholic purples and oranges painting the sky.

“johnny, do you remember the way i used to laugh?” your voice, like a ghostly breeze, wove through the tombstones, reaching the depths of johnny’s soul.

his eyes, filled with an unsettled sorrow, scanned the inscriptions on nearby graves. the silence was broken only by the distant chirping of the crickets and the soft rustling of leaves.

he hesitated, the weight of the question sinking into the earth beneath him. “i . . . i think so,” johnny murmured, his voice barely audible in the quietude of the graveyard.

“tell me, johnny. what was the sound of my laughter?”

his breath caught in his throat, and the distant city lights flickered. a fading sunbeam highlighted the engraved letters on your tombstone, casting a poignant glow.

“i . . . i’m sorry. i can’t remember,” johnny confessed, his words a fragile offering to the memory slipping through his grasp like grains of sand.

“it’s okay, johnny. let go,” you whispered, the words mingling with the wind that swept through the cemetery.

yet, johnny’s fingers tightened on the bouquet of flowers he held, a silent plea against the fading tide of recollection.

“it relieves me, you know,” you spoke softly, your voice a gentle melody. “to see you moving on, even if it means forgetting the little details.”

he looked up, his eyes meeting the translucent figure beside the gravestone. “but i don’t want to forget you. i can’t,” he pleaded, his fingers tracing the letters on the cold stone beneath him.

you extended a spectral hand, a comforting gesture. “johnny, it’s not about what you want. it’s about what we both need. i’m at peace, and i want you to find that too.”

he gazed into the emptiness of the gravestone, wrestling with his emotions. “but why? why do you want me to forget you?”

a breeze whispered through the trees, carrying your words. “because my love, clinging to memories that only bring you pain is no way to honour what we had. life is for the living, and you deserve happiness beyond the shadows of the past.”

johnny’s shoulders slumped, the weight of understanding settling upon him. “i just . . . i feel guilty. like i failed you.”

your form shimmered in a comforting light. “you didn’t fail me, johnny. you’ve carried the burden for too long. i want you to let go of this guilt and live a life where joy can bloom again.”

he nodded, tears glistening in his eyes. “i’ll try.”

with a heavy heart, johnny placed a vibrant daisy on your grave, its simple and cheerful petals reflecting the brightness that you once brought into his life.

a wistful smile crossed his face as he said, “just like you, always spreading joy.” trying to lighten the heavy air, he added, “guess what? i’m thinking of bringing a lemon pie next time, even though you know i can’t stand that stuff. just for you.”

a gentle breeze stirred, as if carrying away your laughter, and johnny chuckled, finding comfort in the shared jokes that transcended the realms of the living.

with a final lingering gaze at your resting place, johnny whispered, “goodbye for now, love. until our laughter echoes together again.”

and with that, he walked away, the weight of memories lightening with each step, leaving behind a graveyard filled with flowers and a heart holding onto the sweetness of shared moments.

#nct 127 #nct #nct scenarios #nct smut #johnny #nct haechan #mark lee #jaehyun #taeyong #taeil #moon taeil #jungwoo #yuta #doyoung #nct imagines #johnny x reader #nct moodboard #nct dream

[turquoisemagpie]

Beneath the weeping willow.

#magpie sketches #ocs #peny

[fromtheseventhhell]

Calm as still water, a small voice whispered in her ear. Arya was so startled she almost dropped her bundle. She looked around wildly, but there was no one in the stable but her, and the horses, and the dead men. (Arya IV, AGOT)

---

The one-armed woman died at evenfall. Gendry and Cutjack dug her grave on a hillside beneath a weeping willow. When the wind blew, Arya thought she could hear the long trailing branches whispering, "Please. Please. Please." The little hairs on the back of her neck rose, and she almost ran from the graveside. (Arya III, ACOK)

---

Gooseprickles rose on Arya's skin, and for an instant she felt dizzy. Then, so faintly, it seemed as if she heard her father's voice. "When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives," he said. - That night she lay in her narrow bed upon the scratchy straw, listening to the voices of the living and the dead whisper and argue as she waited for the moon to rise. They were the only voices she trusted anymore. (Arya X, ACOK)

Arya + Having a physical reaction to "hearing" the dead

#arya stark #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #one of my favorite theories I just think it's so interesting #I can see it not being a fleshed-out concept but I would love it if we got more of it in the future

[airanke]

unloved

Dabi x gn!reader

Warnings: none, just fluff/comfort. Word Count: 425. Summary: You were grateful you could always be honest with him.

A/N: I wrote this a few months ago when I was doing pretty terribly, but on the plus side I don't feel like this anymore.

“I feel unloved.”

“Unloved?” Dabi repeated, gazing levelly at you.

You knew he was waiting for you to elaborate. With a shrug of your shoulders, you muttered, “I dunno. Or I just don’t let myself be loved, so it makes it difficult to believe people when they tell me I am,” you shook your head, raising your hand as if to silence him before he could speak, “don’t.”

It was a timid hope that he wouldn’t make you spell it out for him, why it would only be worse if he tried to reassure you that you were loved. It had been persisting for a while now; you had been actively withdrawing from everyone around you, so if anyone was to blame for how you felt…

Well, that was on you.

At least here, sitting beneath a weeping willow on a half-wall, you were hidden from the world, sitting in comfort with your wicked secret.

Dabi’s fingertips were rough with callouses as they brushed along the back of your hand. Stiffness overcame you, irritated with yourself for bothering to tell him even that much. You dreaded the thought that he was going to offer that reassurance, and you knew full well when you were like this, it would only make you feel worse.

“I despise you.”

You blinked, looking at him in shock, eyes wide with the unexpectedness of it.

But looking at him was your mistake.

The expression he wore contradicted the acidic words he spoke; words that lost their venom as he continued to speak, hand catching your chin so you couldn’t look away from the honesty in his brilliant eyes:

“I despise that I want to make you smile; despise how it makes me feel at ease when you do. I loathe the way I crane my neck when you laugh, just to see what it was so that I can do it later - I loathe how that boisterous sound brings me peace, how seeing you genuinely happy makes my chest light. I abhor the way you look at me, like I’m not a monster, but I wouldn’t be satisfied if you looked at me any other way. I wish you hated me, as much as I hate you,” his voice tapered off to a murmur, forehead pressing against yours, blue eyes glowing with that strong inner fire. His usual blistering heat had tempered itself to a calming warmth:

“Because I hate that I love you.”

A half-laugh, half-sob escaped you at his utterly absurd, roundabout way of making you accept it.

#Dabi #dabi fic #dabi x reader #dabi x you #Air writes #very short and hopefully sweet #I am still really unwell IRL but I know that ppl love me SO IT'S ALL GOOD-- #Also I'm p sure I posted this before but then I had a panic attack and deleted it five minutes later 🤣🤣🤣 #sorry there's no smut