#music: cadence call

[line-of-fire]

Trying to get back into the writing groove tonight (for real this time!), doing some bio reworking and listening to music and whatnot and. Lemme just say.

There's something about Billy Talent and their music that just screams to me that Pixie (specifically in the Dead Fae Walking verse) would consider them one of her favorite bands. Specifically Billy Talent III album-wise. And even more specifically, she's only been listening to them for a few years at this point.

She had known of them in the past, possibly heard of them through her sister that enjoyed their music, but could never really get into them. Didn't hate them, just didn't fully Vibe with any of their songs. Not until after 2018 anyways when she stumbled back upon them. And at that point, with all that she went through, a lot of those songs really just hit differently for her when she rediscovered them.

This song specifically was the one that first stood out to me as fitting Pixie, specifically her grief for what used to be and the people she can no longer be with. There's other ones that have made it onto her playlist, this was just the first. And it's one that really does resonate with her.

[gxldensxldiers]

I have you strung... strung in my web....

Look at me, look me in the eyes... Forget yourself, surrender your mind... Right now, you're mine...

[isathewanderer]

try not to relate a boygenius or hozier song to nevermoor challenge level impossible

[spiribia]

they should do an MMO where everyone is a shapeshifter and you can go live with animal herds in the wild if you want for a time but you are never entirely one of them, noting that the wild animal npcs partake in behaviors with or make calls to one another that you may not understand the logic of but can try to learn to repeat the musical cadence of. this is true of even the human npcs, whose musical language is the most intricate and complex to learn of all and who will ostracize you readily if you do not use it properly. other players are not marked as players and there is no chat feature. as an elk you may not know if the wolf chasing you is an npc or another player who does not know the same of you, and there is no chat. maybe the players would develop a sort of musical cadence to identify other shifters. no one would like this game and it would not be fun. but i would like it

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

25 Prose Tips For Writers 🖋️✨ Part 1

Hey there!📚✨

As writers, we all know that feeling when we read a sentence so beautifully crafted that it takes our breath away. We pause, reread it, and marvel at how the author managed to string those words together in such a captivating way. Well, today I'm going to unpack a few secrets to creating that same magic in your own writing. These same tips I use in my writing.

But before I begin, please remember that writing is an art form, and like any art, it's subjective. What sounds beautiful to one person might not resonate with another. The tips I'm about to share are meant to be tools in your writer's toolkit, not rigid rules. Feel free to experiment, play around, and find what works best for your unique voice and style.

Power of Rhythm 🎵

One of the most overlooked aspects of beautiful prose is rhythm. Just like music, writing has a flow and cadence that can make it pleasing to the ear (or mind's ear, in this case). Here are some ways to incorporate rhythm into your writing:

a) Vary your sentence length: Mix short, punchy sentences with longer, flowing ones. This creates a natural ebb and flow that keeps your reader engaged.

Example: "The sun set. Darkness crept in, wrapping the world in its velvet embrace. Stars winked to life, one by one, until the sky was a glittering tapestry of light."

b) Use repetition strategically: Repeating words or phrases can create a hypnotic effect and emphasize important points.

Example: "She walked through the forest, through the shadows, through the whispers of ancient trees. Through it all, she walked with purpose."

c) Pay attention to the stressed syllables: In English, we naturally stress certain syllables in words. Try to end important sentences with stressed syllables for a stronger impact.

Example: "Her heart raced as she approached the door." (Stronger ending) vs. "She approached the door as her heart raced." (Weaker ending)

Paint with Words 🎨

Beautiful prose often creates vivid imagery in the reader's mind. Here are some techniques to help you paint with words:

a) Use specific, concrete details: Instead of general descriptions, zoom in on particular details that bring a scene to life.

Example: Instead of: "The room was messy." Try: "Crumpled papers overflowed from the waste bin, books lay spine-up on every surface, and a half-eaten sandwich peeked out from under a stack of wrinkled clothes."

b) Appeal to all five senses: Don't just describe what things look like. Include smells, sounds, textures, and tastes to create a fully immersive experience.

Example: "The market bustled with life. Colorful fruits glistened in the morning sun, their sweet aroma mingling with the earthy scent of fresh herbs. Vendors called out their wares in sing-song voices, while customers haggled in animated tones. Sarah's fingers brushed against the rough burlap sacks of grain as she passed, and she could almost taste the tang of ripe oranges on her tongue."

c) Use unexpected comparisons: Fresh similes and metaphors can breathe new life into descriptions.

Example: Instead of: "The old man was very thin." Try: "The old man was a whisper of his former self, as if life had slowly erased him, leaving behind only the faintest outline."

Choose Your Words Wisely 📚

Every word in your prose should earn its place. Here are some tips for selecting the right words:

a) Embrace strong verbs: Replace weak verb + adverb combinations with single, powerful verbs.

Example: Instead of: "She walked quickly to the store." Try: "She hurried to the store." or "She dashed to the store."

b) Be specific: Use precise nouns instead of general ones.

Example: Instead of: "She picked up the flower." Try: "She plucked the daisy."

c) Avoid clichés: Clichés can make your writing feel stale. Try to find fresh ways to express common ideas.

Example: Instead of: "It was raining cats and dogs." Try: "The rain fell in sheets, transforming the streets into rushing rivers."

Play with Sound 🎶

The sound of words can contribute greatly to the beauty of your prose. Here are some techniques to make your writing more musical:

a) Alliteration: Repeating initial consonant sounds can create a pleasing effect.

Example: "She sells seashells by the seashore."

b) Assonance: Repeating vowel sounds can add a subtle musicality to your prose.

Example: "The light of the bright sky might ignite a fight."

c) Onomatopoeia: Using words that sound like what they describe can make your writing more immersive.

Example: "The bees buzzed and hummed as they flitted from flower to flower."

Art of Sentence Structure 🏗️

How you structure your sentences can greatly affect the flow and impact of your prose. Here are some tips:

a) Use parallel structure: When listing items or actions, keep the grammatical structure consistent.

Example: "She came, she saw, she conquered."

b) Try periodic sentences: Build suspense by putting the main clause at the end of the sentence.

Example: "Through storm and strife, across oceans and continents, despite all odds and obstacles, they persevered."

c) Experiment with sentence fragments: While not grammatically correct, sentence fragments can be powerful when used intentionally for emphasis or style.

Example: "She stood at the edge of the cliff. Heart racing. Palms sweating. Ready to jump."

Power of White Space ⬜

Sometimes, what you don't say is just as important as what you do. Use paragraph breaks and short sentences to create pauses and emphasize important moments.

Example: "He opened the letter with trembling hands.

Inside, a single word.

'Yes.'"

Read Your Work Aloud 🗣️

One of the best ways to polish your prose is to read it aloud. This helps you catch awkward phrasing, repetitive words, and rhythm issues that you might miss when reading silently.

Edit Ruthlessly ✂️

Beautiful prose often comes from rigorous editing. Don't be afraid to cut words, sentences, or even entire paragraphs if they don't serve the overall beauty and effectiveness of your writing.

Study the Masters 📖

Please! Read widely and pay attention to how your favorite authors craft their prose. Analyze sentences you find particularly beautiful and try to understand what makes them work.

Practice, Practice, Practice 💪

Like any skill, writing beautiful prose takes practice. Set aside time to experiment with different techniques and styles. Try writing exercises focused on specific aspects of prose, like describing a scene using only sound words, or rewriting a simple sentence in ten different ways.

Remember, that developing your prose style is a journey, not a destination. It's okay if your first draft isn't perfect – that's what editing is for! The most important thing is to keep writing, keep experimenting, and keep finding joy in the process.

Here are a few more unique tips to help you on your prose-perfecting journey:

Create a Word Bank 🏦

Keep a notebook or digital file where you collect beautiful words, phrases, or sentences you come across in your reading. This can be a great resource when you're looking for inspiration or the perfect word to complete a sentence.

Use the "Rule of Three" 3️⃣

There's something inherently satisfying about groups of three. Use this to your advantage in your writing, whether it's in listing items, repeating phrases, or structuring your paragraphs.

Example: "The old house groaned, creaked, and whispered its secrets to the night."

Power of Silence 🤫

Sometimes, the most powerful prose comes from what's left unsaid. Use implication and subtext to add depth to your writing.

Example: Instead of: "She was heartbroken when he left." Try: "She stared at his empty chair across the breakfast table, the untouched coffee growing cold."

Play with Perspective 👁️

Experiment with different points of view to find the most impactful way to tell your story. Sometimes, an unexpected perspective can make your prose truly memorable.

Example: Instead of describing a bustling city from a human perspective, try describing it from the point of view of a bird soaring overhead, or a coin passed from hand to hand.

Use Punctuation Creatively 🖋️

While it's important to use punctuation correctly, don't be afraid to bend the rules a little for stylistic effect. Em dashes, ellipses, and even unconventional use of periods can add rhythm and emphasis to your prose.

Example: "She hesitated—heart pounding, palms sweating—then knocked on the door."

Create Contrast 🌓

Juxtapose different elements in your writing to create interest and emphasis. This can be in terms of tone, pacing, or even the literal elements you're describing.

Example: "The delicate butterfly alighted on the rusted barrel of the abandoned tank."

Use Synesthesia 🌈

Synesthesia is a condition where one sensory experience triggers another. While not everyone experiences this, using synesthetic descriptions in your writing can create vivid and unique imagery.

Example: "The violin's melody tasted like honey on her tongue."

Experiment with Sentence Diagrams 📊

Remember those sentence diagrams from school? Try diagramming some of your favorite sentences from literature. This can give you insight into how complex sentences are structured and help you craft your own.

Create a Sensory Tour 🚶‍♀️

When describing a setting, try taking your reader on a sensory tour. Move from one sense to another, creating a full, immersive experience.

Example: "The old bookstore welcomed her with the musty scent of aging paper. Dust motes danced in the shafts of sunlight piercing the high windows. Her fingers trailed over the cracked leather spines as she moved deeper into the stacks, the floorboards creaking a greeting beneath her feet. In the distance, she could hear the soft ticking of an ancient clock and taste the faint bitterness of old coffee in the air."

Use Active Voice (Most of the Time) 🏃‍♂️

While passive voice has its place, active voice generally creates more dynamic and engaging prose. Compare these two sentences:

Passive: "The ball was thrown by the boy." Active: "The boy threw the ball."

Magic of Ordinary Moments ✨

Sometimes, the most beautiful prose comes from describing everyday occurrences in a new light. Challenge yourself to find beauty and meaning in the mundane.

Example: "The kettle's whistle pierced the quiet morning, a clarion call heralding the day's first cup of possibility."

Play with Time ⏳

Experiment with how you present the passage of time in your prose. You can stretch a moment out over several paragraphs or compress years into a single sentence.

Example: "In that heartbeat between his question and her answer, universes were born and died, civilizations rose and fell, and their entire future hung in the balance."

Use Anaphora for Emphasis 🔁

Anaphora is the repetition of a word or phrase at the beginning of successive clauses or sentences. It can create a powerful rhythm and emphasize key points.

Example: "She was the sunrise after the longest night. She was the first bloom of spring after a harsh winter. She was the cool breeze on a sweltering summer day. She was hope personified, walking among us."

Create Word Pictures 🖼️

Try to create images that linger in the reader's mind long after they've finished reading. These don't have to be elaborate – sometimes a simple, unexpected combination of words can be incredibly powerful.

Example: "Her laughter was a flock of birds taking flight."

Use Rhetorical Devices 🎭

Familiarize yourself with rhetorical devices like chiasmus, antithesis, and oxymoron. These can add depth and interest to your prose.

Example of chiasmus: "Ask not what your country can do for you – ask what you can do for your country." - John F. Kennedy

Even the most accomplished authors continue to hone their craft with each new piece they write. Don't be discouraged if your first attempts don't sound exactly like you imagined – keep practicing, keep experimenting, and most importantly, keep writing.

Your unique voice and perspective are what will ultimately make your prose beautiful. These techniques are simply tools to help you express that voice more effectively. Use them, adapt them, or discard them as you see fit. The most important thing is to write in a way that feels authentic to you and brings you joy.

Happy writing, everyone! 🖋️💖📚 - Rin T

Hey fellow writers! I'm super excited to share that I've just launched a Tumblr community. I'm inviting all of you to join my community. All you have to do is fill out this Google form, and I'll personally send you an invitation to join the Write Right Society on Tumblr! Can't wait to see your posts!

[pastel-peach-writes]

Hii, i just read all and i mean ALL of ur fics, but i saw you wrote for arcane women and was wondering if you could write headcanons abt them with a socially awkward/anxious reader?? If not thats A-Ok 👌 with me

Sure! How is everyone doing after the first three eps? I still haven't seen it but the edits I've seen... oh boy.

"I Got You." | Arcane Ladies Headcanons

╰┈➤ PLOT: How the ladies of Arcane(Jinx, Vi, Caitlyn, Sevika, Mel) act with a socially awkward and/or anxious partner

╰┈➤ WARNINGS: Spoiler Free, On The Shorter Side, Cursing, Not Proofread

⍣ ೋ Enjoy!⍣ ೋ

JINX

– At first, Jinx didn't get that you were socially awkward. She was used to people being awkward or even scared around her so she thought it was the same case with you until you two got closer.

– After knowing that your awkwardness was just you and not your fear of her, she observed you in social situations and noted what made you more anxious than normal.

– For example, she noticed you're more anxious and timid in bigger, louder spaces but if a space was quiet and quaint, you would be just fine so she often took you to quiet places for dates.

– If Jinx notices you're anxious in places you typically aren't, without a doubt she's removing you from the situation and taking you home where you can relax. No words, just grabs and tugs.

– She's tried the pep talk route before but it ended up in her rambling and somehow planning a terrorist scheme aloud... (yeah, a few patrons quickly left the area after hearing that), so she decided to scrap that idea altogether.

– At home though she would prepare what she calls, "A Safety Nest". It was a place in your shared space that had all your favorite things and trinkets, and she usually kept the space dimly lit and played your favorite music to calm you down.

– In social interactions where you take the lead in conversation, Jinx would quietly encourage you with big, almost alarming smiles and "gentle" pats on your back. Let's face it, Jinx can be socially awkward herself.

– Once the conversation concludes, she'll jump on you proudly, ruffle up your clothing, and pinch your cheeks endearingly all while calling you weird nicknames and quoting what you said while mimicking your tone and cadence.

––

VI

– Before you've had your first real conversation together, Vi could sense that you were an anxious individual.

– You fidgeted with your body while speaking, didn't hold eye contact long, and used a decent amount of filler words to casualize your sentences.

– She thought it was endearing to watch you act and move as if you thought no one truly cared about what you were saying or were afraid of boring others but you never bored her. She didn't think it was possible.

– You had tells and quips that revealed themselves with each conversation you two had. You showed more and more of your personality the more you got comfortable with her too. Vi loved it.

– When you spoke to her, especially when you went on tangents about things you were interested in, she always showed signs of active listening by nodding and asking follow-up questions. Even days later, she'll bring up the topic again to see if you have any updates.

– She made you feel seen and heard, something you've subconsciously craved. And when you went on your worry rambles, she consoled you and tried her best to stop you from spiraling.

– You thought about a lot of things and oftentimes about things no one else thought about. Vi thought your brain must've been exhausted with all the worries, doubts, and judgments that were usually wrapped up as others' but were truly your own; it was a lot for one person to handle so she strove to let you know that you were not alone.

– Is there a night you can't sleep because of your racing mind? Vi is there, holding you or reassuring you that everything is going to be okay. She can't sleep until you do anyway so why not speed the process along?

– You often had yourself stuck with your head stressing and worrying about multiple things at once and Vi was always there to bring you down to Earth.

__

CAITLYN

– Caitlyn's an encourager and a comforter with you.

– She's patient and silently allows you to take your time when gathering your thoughts midconversation but she'll also be the one to say, "It's okay, take your time," in the sweetest way possible.

– If there's an instance when you two are out and about and you really want something but are too scared to get it, she'll spring into action and get that thing for you. (Even if it was just a napkin).

– The only time she's frazzled socially is when you both are in an unfamiliar area and need to ask for directions. She'll stumble over her words and try to get someone's attention but they're moving too fast to hear her soft words.

– She'll get frustrated and you end up comforting her, but after a few backrubs, she's ready to try again. Her voice is strong and powerful, and people have no problem hearing her.

– You secretly thank whomever you have to for her determination but there was no way in hell you were going to walk up to a stranger and ask for directions like a tourist... which you were.

– Since Caitlyn's job has her socializing with a lot of people, she can get burnt out easily. Especially if work hasn't been going her way lately but even if she's burnt out and tired, if you seem to be more awkward or anxious than her, she's more than happy to step up socially.

– When you both have someplace to attend to or some event that holds significance, Caitlyn will not hesitate to stage a "social rehearsal" with you. She'll make flashcards of topics you could bring up, you'll both dress accordingly for the event in her living room, and she'll pretend to be an assortment of people so you can get used to different personalities all at once.

– It may seem like this is all for you, but honestly it helps her too. Sometimes she misses the personal cues of conversation leading the other to think she's a black-and-white thinking who has no time for pleasanties. Not true! She's very pleasant... sometimes she's just shy.

– Shyness is not a crime!

– After talking with the host and a few others she has to talk to due to her job, her social battery is depleted. She's extremely thankful you're able to recognize this and suggest leaving early. What would you two do without each other?

––

SEVIKA

– Oh, man. This lady found your awkwardness charming as hell.

– Your awkwardness was different than all the nerds and scaly-beings she's forced to be around. You were cute, looked perfect sitting next to her, and your awkwardness, as mentioned before, had a certain charming quality she can't quite place.

– She'll see you in your workplace trying to make casual conversation or small talk but none of your topics seemed to be landing. Your coworkers would give you a thin pressed-lips smile that she wanted to strike off of them to your attempts and then scoff at you behind your back.

– You were authentically yourself and those bastards didn't know what to do with it. They were scared, not her though.

– When you two got closer and comfortable enough with each other that you could tease one another or make playful jabs at the other's expense, no doubt she would tease you about your awkwardness.

– With those gorgeous eyes of yours, you would look everywhere else but her own, prompting her to say, "You know you can look me in the eyes, right? I won't bite", with the stupidest most shit-eating smirk on her face. And then when you look at her, a bit shocked and playfully annoyed, her smirk would only grow. "Unless you want me to."

– Sevika never made your awkwardness seem like a flaw. Your awkwardness came with you and she wanted all of you so she often encouraged your awkwardness.

– If she caught you trying to "reel" it in or realizing that you've talked for a few seconds too long, she'll playfully scold you and tell you to continue or to "let it out". Y'know. As someone who seethes dominance does.

– There would be an instance in which you go to Sevika asking for advice to be "less awkward" and her only response would be, "Why? I like your awkwardness, you don't need to change it. Anyone else who thinks otherwise is a sad loser and don't deserve to be in your life anyways."

– like damnnnn, okay!

– Safe to say you never asked her a question like that again.

--

MEL

– Mel understands your worries about what others think and the awkwardness that can come with it so she likes to help you in any way she can.

– If you're stressed about a council meeting and afraid of what everyone's going to think about the new perspective you'd like to bring to the table, she'll reassure you and tell you she's right by your side.

– If she can't physically with her hand on the small of your back, she give you nods of encouragement, raise her brows proudly, and look at you with that sense of pride and admiration in her golden eyes.

– After the meeting goes well, which she knew would, she'll congratulate you with your favorite drink and a night in doing all your favorite things.

– Even if there were parts in the meeting that were rocky, like the council people asking questions you weren't prepared for or getting rowdy, she'll say you did an excellent job and what you presented will help the people of Piltover.

– Oh, and don't think for a second that she wasn't sending glares and daggers to those who stirred up your anxiety even more. If looks could kill.

– Mel sees that sometimes your awkwardness and anxiety result in people-pleasing and she would shut that down real quick. She's fallen into that dangerous pool before and knows how hard it feels when you disappoint others and how much harder it is to get out of that mindset.

– She can get quite spirited with her encouragement...

– "Well, if they don't like it, that's on them! They don't know something good when they see it." "I've learned that hard way that you can't please everyone. You might as well say what you have to now. They can get over themselves later."

– It's actually quite attractive to see her stand up for you, even if she was standing up for the possibility.

– Always keeping her words in your mind, you find yourself navigating through life easier and you only have her to thank.

WC: 1,705

[iamnotoriginalphil]

Shadows and Light (Agatha Harkness x f!Reader)

Synopsis: Agatha shouldn't want you. But she does. She wants you so much. If only she'd let herself have you.

Words: 5.2k

Warnings: Alcohol, self loathing, mentions of blood, angst, one bed trope, fuck you everyone lives

She couldn’t believed she’d allowed this to happen. It was inconceivable, even more so because she hadn’t noticed it happening. It had crept up on her.

You, with your wide eyes and easy smile, hair that shone, laughter that was like a bell ringing, you were everything she was not. Soft and sweet and nice. Kind. It would be disgusting if you hadn’t managed to charm her the way you charmed the rest of them.

Sitting back in her chair, nursing a glass of wine, she watched as you spun in the firelight. Dancing around the bonfire, bare feet kicking up leaves, you were a picture to watch. You were signing along, your voice clear and bright, melding with the other voices of the coven. You grasped both of Billy’s hands in yours, spinning with him in the flickering light.

The way he laughed was full of delight. You were grinning, tugging him closer as you sang, as free as she’d ever seen you. The weight had lifted and you were easier. Your head tipped back as you drank in the moonlight up above and she had to do her best not to reach out and sink her teeth into the long column of your neck. Your skirt twirled around your calves, flashes of skin in the firelight making her fingers clench.

You fell away from Billy, arms raising as you spun, such a pretty picture in the moonlight. Lilia’s arm curled around your waist, snatching you up in the dance and you went willingly. You were always so easy, so happy to give in to the whims of others, to fulfill their desires.

She wondered what would happen is she whispered her desires into your ear.

She could just imagine the look of disgust that would pass over your delicate features. The way you’d flinch back and begin to avoid her. The whispers she’d overhear about how there was something wrong with her. The confirmation she was everything anyone had ever called her.

She lent back, draining the last of her wine as she watched you, spinning and laughing and so free. So comfortable in your own body. So sure of yourself. Your head turned and even in the shadows, you found her. You smiled, so big and bright and beautiful and her heart squeezed in her chest like you’d reached through her ribcage and grasped it in your bare hand.

It was fucking pathetic.

“If you stare any harder you might set her on fire.”

She didn’t bother turning to look as Rio settled into the chair positioned beside hers. You’d been sitting in it earlier, rambling on about your plan for the garden you’d be planting this week. The cadence of your voice had been soothing after the day she’d had. There was something about it that always helped ground her back into the present, rather than plans spiralling out of control.

“I can understand your fascination,” Rio continued, “it’s not often we meet a witch so saccharine. And it’s genuine. When was the last time you met someone with no facade?”

“Everyone has facades,” she replied, automatic, uncaring if it was true or not.

“Not her.”

Rio tipped her beer towards you, drawing Agatha’s gaze back to you. Your hand was on Jen’s, twirling her, your arm curling around her waist as you did a clumsy waltz around the fire, out of time with the music and uncaring.

“If we teamed up I’m sure we could ruin her,” Rio said, voice a purr, “tear her apart, find out what makes her tick, make it so no one can put Humpty together again.”

“Stop it,” she said, not caring if her harsh voice gave away more than she usually would. There was no point pretending around Rio.

“We’d have so much fun playing with her,” she said, putting thoughts in Agatha’s mind of what she could do with you.

“Don’t,” she said, firmer, refusing to let her continue.

“Well, sweetheart, if you want to play with her, you might want to get a wriggle on or someone else will get there first.”

Rio dragged her gaze over to you significantly. Her head snapped up. Your fingers had wound with Jen’s, no longer dancing but swaying as you whispered together. Your face was so open and you were dazzling. It was incomprehensible that anyone could survive under that gaze without falling for you.

No wonder she’d had no chance.

The sharp jab of jealousy was familiar, tart and metallic in her mouth. She wanted to stop watching, didn’t want to see you fall under someone else’s spell, but feeling the inevitability of it. There was no possibility you were going to find joy in the darkness she knew she was made up of. But she couldn’t look away. She could never look away from you.

She sat with her churning gut, stewing in it. Normally, if this was someone else, she’d do something to lash out, to bring attention to back to herself, to remind everyone of her existence. Under your sunshine, she found herself shrinking back. It was infuriating and left her feeling as if she was on the back foot, unbalanced and unsure of herself. It was a new, if familiar, feeling and she hated it.

You fell into the grass beside Alice, head coming to rest on her shoulder. She passed you the bottle of beer she’d been drinking from, letting you sate your thirst. With your free hand you were pointing up at the stars, pointing something out in the night sky to her.

When Rio dropped down beside you, her jaw clenched.

She watched, a line drawn taut, as Rio’s fingers gently wound themselves through the ends of your hair. Your head rolled towards her, your smile stretching just a bit. With sure fingers, you gently tugged on the pocket of her jacket. Angling your body, you shifted to lean against Alice as your feet rested against Rio’s thigh.

Agatha felt like she was burning.

Lilia dropped down in your huddle and you automatically reached out, hand twining with hers. She watched the soft sigh that parted your lips, the way you relaxed, your eyes fluttering shut. She ached to be in the pile with you, to feel your muscles soften along the lines of her body, your weight sinking into her. She wanted to drag you away, to keep you all to herself, but even in the haze of her own anger she knew you wouldn’t appreciate it. That you liked being one part of a bigger whole. That you thrived with a coven. That you needed something she hadn’t let herself want for a very long time.

She squeezed her eyes closed, tipping her head upwards, taking a long slow breath in.

She didn’t open them again someone dropped into the seat beside her. Squinting them open, she’d expected Rio back. Instead, your soft smile greeted her, knees pulled up, chin resting on them as you tilted towards her.

“Tonight’s been good,” you sweet voice said, “have you enjoyed yourself, Aggie?”

“Aggie?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Do you not like it?” Your eyes widened and she saw the worry swimming in them, “sorry, I don’t have to-“

“It’s fine,” she interrupted, waving her hand. On your lips, the nickname was spun sugar, her heart beating double time.

“Have you though?” you asked, “enjoyed yourself?”

You reached out, your finger gently curling around a strand of her hair. Your lips parted and you looked at her from under lowered lashes, such hope in your face.

“You sure know how to throw a party,” she said, the way you were looking at her making up for the churning in her stomach.

The pleased tilt to your chin and the brightening of your eyes had her feeling like a live wire. You lent closer, the arm of the chair digging into your body as if you wanted to be close the distance between the two of you. She wondered if the arms weren’t present if you’d climb into her lap. She liked the thought of it.

“Are you going to stay tonight? Only it’s late and if you don’t want to drive you can. Lilia and Jen have already said they will and Billy…” You glanced back towards your house, “he passed out on the couch about an hour ago. I texted Eddie to let him know.”

“Not Rio or Alice?” she asked, the corner of her lips pulling up.

“Alice drove Shannon home and Rio did that thing where she just kind of disappears. If you don’t want to stay that’s okay but there’s space for you,” you said, fingers weaving together like you were anxious, like her answer mattered to you.

She reached out, placing her hand over yours, stopping you from twisting them to the point of breaking.

“I’ll stay,” she said.

You lit up like a goddess damned Christmas tree. Her heart stuttered, stumbling over itself and she cursed the day she’d met you. This was getting ridiculous. She wasn’t some mooney eyed teenager with a crush. She was Agatha Harkness; Witch Killer. You were nothing. No one.

It was amazing how she’d grown so used to lying to herself.

“Okay, but I only have one guest room. So we’re all going to have to share with someone. Do you have a preference?” you asked, rushing over the words.

She definitely had a preference.

“Will any of you be comfortable enough to be so vulnerable around me?” she asked.

“If you kill me in my sleep I’ll haunt you,” you said, “and I can be very annoying. You’ll never get a moment of peace again.”

She would happily spend eternity haunted by you. She had to get a grip. This was just unseemly.

“Then I suppose you know my preference,” she said.

She watched you stand up, bare toes digging into the grass. You held a hand out to her. She stared blankly.

“You take it,” you said, sounding amused.

She took it.

Bare skin brushing together, sending electricity running over her body from her palm. Staring for a moment, she couldn’t quite comprehend the way it looked, your fingers and hers knotted together. You tugged her out of her seat, breaking the moment of confusion from her brain. She was ready for you to pull away, but all you did was lead her back towards the house, hands swinging through the air. Why did it feel like the world had shrunk to that tiny point of contact?

“Are you guys good to share?” you asked as you entered the kitchen.

“We have to share a bed?” Jen asked.

You let go of Agatha’s hand and she had to bite back the disappointment. Your own arm slid around Jen’s waist, leaning into her as you blinked up at her. Lilia was staring at her, an assessing look on her face. Agatha looked back, not sure what she was seeing.

“There’s only two bed so unless you want to sleep on the floor, it’s you and Lilia, and me and Agatha,” you said.

“Good luck with that,” Jen said.

“You know, one day, and I’m not saying it’ll be today, but one day you’re going to have to admit you actually like her,” you said, “we’re a coven, a sisterhood. We belong together and to one another. Even Agatha.”

You looked over to her and she felt frozen in place. She wasn’t used to people talking about her that way. Like she was one of the team.

“Yes, well, if the feeling portion of the night is done, I wouldn’t mind retiring for the night,” she said, placing her empty wine glass down on the counter, trying to move past the rough squeezing in her chest.

“Course,” you said, “c’mon.”

You practically skipped out of the room. Billy was on the couch in your living room, his soft snores surprisingly endearing. Someone had laid a blanket over him. She could guess who. She hated that it made her feel something squishy in her chest.

“Locked the door,” Lilia said, pausing on the stairs.

“Yeah, it’s locked,” you said over your shoulder to her, “don’t worry.”

Lilia shook her head, seemingly coming back to the moment.

At the top of the stairs, you pointed to the door of the guest bedroom and the bathroom. And then the door to your bedroom was closing and she was locked in with you. You didn’t even stop to consider her, moving around the room like nothing was out of the ordinary.

“I’m gonna go brush my teeth,” you said, “I have stuff if you don’t want to sleep in your clothes.”

She took the offered clothes, your hand brushing over hers. The door to the ensuite closed and she let out a long breath. She forced herself to get a grip over herself. Dragging the clothes over her body, she looked at herself in the mirror. It would do for sleep, but she hardly wanted anyone seeing her like this. They were soft and your perfume clung to the material and it was like being wrapped in your arms. No one should be able to see the expression on her face.

“Don’t worry, you look great. Just like always.”

She startled, not having heard you exit the bathroom. In your tank top and shorts, she was having difficulty looking at you straight on. If she did, she knew it would only end in trouble. Self control wasn’t one of her strong suits. Especially around you.

“If you’re not comfortable in them, I guess I can find something else for you to wear, but I’m not sure I really have anything that’s more to your taste,” you said, your worry palpable.

“It’s fine,” she said.

“Okay.”

You paused in front of her, fingers brushing over the back of her hands, featherlight and so soft. Her shoulders relaxed and she looked down at you properly. You were so small, so delicate, a harsh wind would snap you in half. In her hands, you’d have no chance.

Pushing up onto your toes, your fingers brushed over her throat and she had to physically stop herself from shivering. You dropped back down, smiling up at her like she’d made all your dreams come true.

“Left or right side?” you asked.

In the dark, it was so much worse. You seemed to have no issue curling up beside her. Your hand had reached blindly through the dark, fingers tangling with hers, a soft sigh on your lips when you found her. Your face was turned towards her, eyes closed, eyelashes resting on your cheeks. She found herself staring, not able to stop herself, tracing your features with her eyes, yearning to reach out and touch.

She couldn’t trust herself around you.

Muscles clenched, she tried to stay vigilant through the night, refusing to let herself relax. The moment she did, she was certain she would do something to you, something beyond her control, something to ruin you. Only, after some time, once she was certain you were asleep, you rolled over, face pressing into her shoulder, curling into her body. It was what she’d been hoping for, and yet it set off all kinds of fight or flight responses in her body.

She turned her head away from you, closing her eyes, doing her best not to feel the warmth of you against her, the ghost of your breath on her skin, your hand in hers. You pressed closer, seeking out her warmth. It all ached so much.

She tore her hand from yours, rolling over, refusing to give in. She knew she couldn’t listen to that voice inside of her, the one telling her to take what she wanted. Every time she did, someone got hurt and she wasn’t going to let it hurt you.

Your arm curled around her waist, bringing your body closer, aligning yourself with her. She froze. Mumbling something, your lips brushed the skin of her neck, tightening your arm around her. You threw your leg over her, keeping her in your embrace, refusing to let her go even as she tried to wriggle away.

“Sleep, Aggie,” you mumbled, “it’s bedtime.”

She stilled again. You let out a contented hum, burying your face against her. You softened again, muscles relaxing. She squeezed her eyes shut, winding her fingers through yours, holding them to her stomach. Maybe letting herself have this for one night wouldn’t be so bad. She could stop again in the morning and everything would be okay.

One night. She’d give herself one night. And then she’d let you go.

Cracking her eyes open in the morning light, she groaned. She buried her face in the soft hair in front of her, breathing in the floral perfume that she knew clung to your skin. You pushed back against her, melting into the mattress. Her fingers brushed over the soft skin of your stomach. The little noise you made was addictive enough that she did it again.

“Aggie,” you sighed, soft and sweet and delicious.

First thing in the morning, your voice was deeper, lower, a little raspy. She wanted to luxuriate in it, make you speak soliloquies just to hear it. Her arms tightened around you, practically crushing you to her.

“Agatha,” you murmured, almost a moan. She liked that.

If her fingers slipped down, found the heat between your legs, she would be able to hear you moan properly. If she tasted you, she could get you to moan so loudly it would be burned into her brain. If she fucked you deeply into the mattress she could make it so you never stopped moaning.

She couldn’t do any of that.

Dragging her arms from around you, she ignored the chill that went through her. She’d had her one night. She’d slept deeply and well, and now it was time to return to real life.

She lay back, considering getting up, slipping out of the bed and getting dressed and finding coffee. Your ceiling stared back at her, mocking her as she lay in indecision in your bed. The covers tugged and she was reminded of how close you still were, curled up in sleep, soft and vulnerable. Perfect for digging her nails in and shaping you how she wanted.

Only she wanted you exactly how you were. She wanted you soft and gentle and vulnerable. She wanted you with your open heart and wide eyes and trusting nature. She wanted every smile, every flutter of eyelashes, every giggle. She was greedy and she knew she hungered for something she would never have, a hunger she wasn’t sure she could ever satiate. She was every dark thought and every monster, and she would corrupt you, ruin you, rot you from the inside out.

And yet she wanted with such wild abandon she couldn’t stop.

She pushed up, sitting, ready to swing her legs out of the bed and retreat before she did something she regretted. Rio was right. All she brought was destruction and she couldn’t destroy you. It would destroy her.

Warm fingers curled around her wrist and she froze. You were blinking up at her, wide eyes still soft with sleep but the corners of your lips were pulled down. She was already ruining you.

“Where are you going?” you asked.

Your other hand rubbed at your eyes, wiping the sleep from them. Her heart gave an extra hard beat, almost slamming in her chest.

“Were you going to slip out without saying goodbye?” you asked when she didn’t answer, sounding lost and hurt and she hated herself in that moment more than she ever had before.

You were still lying back, hair spread over the pillow, looking perfect for her to ruin. Her lips could paint such pretty pictures on your skin. She could make those wide eyes glaze over as you moaned her name. You would be hers if she let herself have you.

“You were.” You pouted, “you were going to leave without saying goodbye.”

You sat up and she had to drag her gaze away from the way the neckline of your tank top dipped, showing swathes of skin she wanted to bury herself in. Turning her head away, she tried not to show the way she felt heat creeping up her cheeks.

Because she was looking away, she had no chance to avoid it when you swung one leg over her and deposited yourself in her lap.

“That’s not very nice, Aggie. I bet you weren’t even going to leave a note,” you said.

Your hands were on her shoulders, winding into her hair, tugging her closer and all she could think of was how nice the weight of you in her lap felt. Her fingers clenched in the sheets, keeping from touching you. She was worried if she started then she’d never stop.

You weren’t making this easy on her.

You were still liquid warmth from sleep, pressing closer, those wide eyes eating her alive. You were still pouting and you were so close and all she wanted to do was close the distance and claim you. To let your warmth consume her until she was on fire.

“That’s so mean,” you said, fingertips dragging over her cheekbones, brushing the pulse in her neck, pushing just under the neckline of the shirt she’d borrowed.

“I am mean,” she said, forcing the words past her lips.

“No you’re not.” You shook your head, hair flying around your face, “you pretend to be but you’re not really.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, not able to meet your eye.

Your fingers gripped her hair, right at the roots, fists clenching until it pulled. She looked up into your face, finding something fierce there. It looked wrong on your face and yet so very right.

“I do. I do know. You pretend you’re this big scary monster who snatches children in the night but you’re not. You’re busy protecting a gooey centre that could break so easily.” Your fingers tightened in her hair. She hissed from the pain, “you care, Agatha Harkness. You care so much sometimes I think it scares you.”

“I don’t-“

You cut her off before she could say more than that.

“I see you, Aggie. Every part of you. And you’re wonderful.”

Your lips pressed to hers, rough and insistent, not the gentle brush she’d always imagined. You pressed closer, knees digging into her as they held her in place, fingers in her hair tugging and pulling. She was a live wire, caught under you, a hurricane going through her because of you. You pressed closer, nipping at her lip.

When she kissed you back, you sighed, melting against her. How could she not kiss you back, when you made such a pleased noise in the back of your throat as she did? You were a force of nature and she was merely a speck, destined to bow to you in all your might. Her hands grasped your hips, keeping you there with her, feeling how warm your skin was through the thin cotton of your shorts.

She fell back, dragging you with her, your lips finding their home on her skin. Wet, open mouthed kisses down the column of her neck turned her head fuzzy. She could drown in you, in the tsunami of her feelings for you, in the downpour of desperation she felt. Your tongue tasted her skin and you moaned, almost too quiet to be heard, muffled in her skin.

Her fingers pushed up past your shirt, seeking out the warm skin. There was much of it, swathes of it, all of it unexplored by her touch. An explorer with the sweetest of expeditions before her. You pressed closer, shivering, nose skimming along her jaw.

“Aggie,” you whispered, practically a whimper, pressing down on her.

Her hands kept creeping higher, before she dragged her nails down again. Your teeth nipped at her skin and the surprised laugh that came from her jolted her out of the moment.

“Stop,” she said, ripping her hands from your body, “I can’t.”

“Can’t? Or won’t?”

You sat up and a frustrated look passed over your face. She stayed reclined on the pillows, every inch of her warring with her self control. Your hair was mussed, lips kiss stung, eyes bright. All she wanted was to ravage you, to paint her name behind your ribs and burn herself into your skin. You were a step away from being indecent.

“I see the way you look at me. I know how you feel about it me. It throbs through you,” you said, fingertips on her jaw, on her cheeks over her nose, “it’s a living heartbeat, your want for me.”

“Stop.”

Her fingers curled around your wrists, so delicate her hands became handcuffs easily. She dragged your hands from her, looking up, her chest caving in. You lent down, eyes seeking her out, refusing to let her wriggle out of this moment with her.

“I want you so much it’s like I’m being eaten alive,” you whispered, your hair brushing her skin, your eyes imploring, your lips sweets as they spilled saccharine secrets.

“I can’t,” she said again.

“Why not?” you asked and tears gathered in your eyes like jewels.

“I destroy everything I touch,” she said, her thumb brushing away a glittering tear before it could fall. Another fell in its place.

“No, Aggie,” you moaned, “you don’t destroy. You make. You made us. We were just a group of people and you made us into a coven.”

“I don’t know what it means to have a coven,” she said, looking away.

“You do.” Your forehead pressed against hers, eyes squeezed closed, breath hitching, “you yearn for one so fiercely it burns.”

“Stop doing that,” she said.

The hands still curled around your wrists shoved you away. You fell back, a mess of hair and tears and bare skin and she’d never wanted to tear you apart but you had cracked open her chest and all she could think about was getting her claws deep into your flesh until she was part of you. She refused to see she already was.

“Stop reading me,” she snapped.

“You shout.” You sniffled, “you’re so loud around me I can’t help it.”

She turned away, passing her hand over her face, surprised when it came away wet. She didn’t stop you as you curled your arms around her waist, face buried between her shoulder blades.

“Please, Aggie. Don’t deny yourself this. I’m yours, willingly and completely. You could never destroy me. You’d never let yourself,” you said, muffled in her shirt. She could feel your lips move with every word.

“You don’t know what I’ve done,” she said.

“I don’t need to. I only need to know what you will do. And I trust you,” you whispered.

She turned, dislodging you. Your fingers twisted in your lap and she wanted to rip them from your body and she wanted to suck on them and she wanted to feel them run all over her body. You blinked and your lips parted and you were the picture of innocence. How could she mar you? How could she let herself ruin your perfection?

“You shouldn’t,” she said.

“You won’t break me by holding on too tight. I want you to hold on tight. Even if it hurts. Especially if it hurts. You don’t understand what it’s like. How I crave you,” you said, “sometimes I think I can only breathe when you’re around. That I’m holding my breath until I see you again.”

“You can’t mean that,” she said, her heart eviscerated at your words.

“I do.” Your hands clutched hers, “I do.”

You were looking at her, such wide eyes, swimming with emotion and she remembered the way you kissed her. Not soft and gentle and safe, but like you would die if you stopped. The desperation was all yours. You held on and refused to let go. Your teeth sunk in. You fought dirty for what you wanted.

“Please, Aggie,” you whispered, fingertips on her cheek again, catching her tears, gaze slipped down to her lips, “let me have you.”

Who needed self control?

She launched herself at you, sending you sprawling over the mattress. The kiss was bruising, demanding, taking ruthlessly. She was thrown on her back, you climbing on top again, fingernails dragging over her skin. Your knees dug in, poking into her soft vulnerable places. You didn’t give her time to breathe, suffocating her with your kisses. But what a delicious way to go.

“Oi.”

A fist slammed into the bedroom door. You startled, sitting up, looking beautifully mussed. She dragged her nails up your thighs and she felt you quiver.

“Are you still alive in there?” Jen called through the door.

“Yeah,” you called, breathless and squirming above her.

“Good.”

The door was pushed open, two nosey witched peering in. Your fingers wrapped themselves in Agatha’s hair, mouth falling open before it snapped shut.

“We, uh…” You turned your eyes down to her. She ran her fingers over the skin of your thigh. Your eyelashes fluttered.

“Oh god,” Jen said.

“You should have-“ Lilia said before cutting off without finishing the sentence.

“Locked the door,” you murmured, eyes squeezing shut.

Your teeth sunk into your lower lip. She yearned to do that herself, to feel the thin skin split, your blood coating her tongue. But then your shoulders were shaking and she realised you were trying not to laugh. You tipped, falling off her, burying your face in the pillow to stifle it as best you could. She glowed, the sound of your giggles pure sunshine running through her veins. She reached a hand out, stroking over your hair.

“No wonder you wanted to share beds,” Jen said, “you were having fun while I spent the night being kicked by Lilia.”

“Next time I’ll take Lilia and you can have Agatha,” you said, emerging, bright and joyful, the tears gone. No, now you were practically shining.

“I’m good,” she replied.

You climbed out of the bed and Agatha had to clench her fingers to keep from reaching out and pulling you back into her embrace. You extended a hand to her, lacing your fingers with her and pulling her with more strength than she’d thought you had.

“Breakfast,” you said, “I’m gonna cook you guys so many pancakes.”

Passing Lilia, Agatha in tow, you brushed your fingers over the back of her hand. You tapped Jen on the nose as you passed and you beamed. Agatha found her own lips curling up in a smile, heart thudding in her chest, the monster in her chest purring.

“My coven,” you said, voice pure happiness, “how I love you.”

Maybe the truth was there were no shadows without light. And maybe you were fierce enough to keep her from destroying you. Maybe you, with your wide eyes and easy smile and soft touches, would destroy her. And maybe she was okay with that.

[zorosangell]

⛥ﾟ・。 vice admiral

synopsis: after receiving some terrible news by news coo, you're left completely devastated. the crew does their best to console you, to no avail... and zoro realizes that, for once, his actions won't speak louder than his words... and makes a promise he's willing to die to keep.

cw: fluff with a decent dash of angst, parental death if that's triggering for you, reader calls her dad papa, comfort, zoro is once again down bad for reader, their relationship is super cute, zoro hates romance books.

a/n: listened to a lot of sad music for this

"They clashed, blades sparking and bodies twirling in an epic dance of death," you read aloud, completely enraptured by the book. "Their love was strong, but the hatred that kept them apart was stronger... It seemed that violence would once again be the driving force of their separation... as well as their rejuvenation."

Zoro gagged, keeping up the cadence of his push-ups as he rolled his eyes, glancing at you on his back with a raised brow.

Seriously...?

"You told me this book was about swordsmanship..." he grunted out, turning his gaze back to the grassy deck. "For the past three chapters... they haven't shut up about their rival families... or their... love for each other."

You let out a small snicker at his annoyed tone, a cheeky grin stretching across your lips as you turned the page.

"Well, if I told you about the romance part, you wouldn't have let me read it," you stated, simply.

"Gee, I wonder why..." he scoffed, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Hey!"

You flicked him in the back of the head, donning a small pout as he sighed, grumbling to himself something along the lines of:

"Always with the pout... she knows I hate the damn pout..."

It was Calisthenics Day, and with such beautiful weather, Zoro had decided to take his training outside, which meant dragging you out of your room to join him.

Even though he always deflected when asked about it, everyone knew that incorporating you into his workouts was one of his many guilty pleasures.

Wearing you like backpack during his pull-ups...

Having you take a nap on his barbell as he bench-pressed...

Plopping you down on his back for push-ups as you read...

He loved it.

He loved being in your presence because, to him, it felt oddly intimate—having you so close as he worked hard to get stronger, honing his body with the goal of protecting you in mind.

Not to mention it fluffed up his ego, being able to lift up and toss around his woman with such ease.

He was only a man... and couldn't help the renewed confidence he gained after every workout.

"Well, I didn't completely lie. The book's got sword-fights in it," you defended, flipping back through the last few chapters.

"Yeah, one every fifty pages," he scoffed once again. "And they're not even good. Who the hell dances in the middle of a fight?"

Your brows flattened, incredulously.

'Jeez...'

"Zo', it's figurative language. They're not actually dancing."

"Figurative... what?"

"Figurative language. Writers use it to make descriptions more interesting."

"Why don't they just say what they mean and be done with it?"

"'Cause that's boring."

"It would make this crap less confusing. Too many blinding smiles and sparkling eyes. Just say the girl looks nice and move on."

You sighed, not at all surprised by his response.

'He's so backwards...'

Zoro was a man who found it hard to say I love you, yet had no problem throwing himself in front of a bullet for you.

Really.

Most girls got bouquets and chocolates from their lovers after their one month anniversary, but you got to patch him up after he was hit in the chest by a fucking cannonball, all because you were in its line of fire.

A rather heart-warming yet terrifying problem to have.

The memory brought a small smile to your face, your lips letting out tiny chuckle as you recalled the scene.

"Gods, Zoro, why the hell did you do that?!" you sniffled, a few tears rolling down your cheeks as he coughed up another round of blood. "I could've dodged!"

He chuckled, painfully, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand.

"With your reaction time?" he weakly teased, raising a brow as he sat up, "I don't think so."

Clutching his side, he let out a wince, pulling away his hand to see his blood was soaking through the bandages you'd applied.

"This is serious! Stop moving or you're gonna tear it open again!" you scolded, glassy eyed and wobbly lipped as you pressed your hand against his chest, forcing him to lay back down. "Gods, you're so stupid... why did you do that?"

After working tirelessly for a whole hour, Chopper was able to stabilize him, the cannonball having nearly tore off the whole of his side, and the organs along with it.

The doctor said it was a miracle, and medically improbable, that the man was still alive.

Zoro paused a moment, breathing slightly shallow as his eyes bore intensely into yours.

He knew exactly why...

"'Cause it was you..."

"Guys! News Coo's here!" Nami called, exiting her office and snapping you out of your thoughts.

Instantly, your mind pushed away the doom and gloom, making room for the wide grin that broke out on your face.

"Yes!" you cheered, jumping off Zoro's back, the man cracking a small smile at your excitement.

'Must be her dad...'

"Ooo, I wanna see!" Luffy exclaimed, swinging over from the figurehead. "I hope my bounty went up!"

"Me, too!" Chopper agreed, bursting from the med bay.

"Wait for me~!" Brook sang, jumping down from the balcony of the crow's nest.

"I call dibs on the funny papers!" Usopp perked up from his spot on the higher deck, tinkering with a new gadget of his.

"Let's see what's new in the world today," Robin mused with a smile, crossing her arms as she walked over to join the rest.

"It's been so long! I wonder how my father's doing!" you squealed, brimming with joy. "I bet he's captured a ton of other pirates!"

"Wait, (y/n), isn't your dad a marine?" Chopper asked, tugging at your arm.

"Yup!" you nodded, proudly. "One of the best there is! Back when he was in his prime, he was one of the strongest in the Navy! He even fought Gold Roger!"

"GOLD ROGER?!" Chopper and Brook exclaimed, shocked.

With a grin, Luffy threw a stretchy arm over your shoulder, literally pulling himself into the conversation.

"Yuh-huh! He and my grandpa are good friends!" your captain confirmed. "They go way back!"

Like Garp, your father was less than pleased to find out that you'd run away from home to become a pirate, much less a pirate with his best friend's grandson.

But, after some time, he learned to accept your decision, and even went as far as saying so in person, reuniting with you on Dressrosa and assuring that he still loved you with all his heart—you had feared he hated you for your decision.

He promised you both would meet again someday, and probably have to fight, given your luck.

So you promised to get even stronger, that way you'd be able to kick his ass back to the Red Line.

Let's just say your head got a good bonking for that one...

"Here, (y/n)," Nami smiled, tossing you the rolled up newspaper. "Take first look."

Giddily, you caught it, giving her a quick nod of thanks before flipping through the pages, searching for your father's name.

Until you found it.

"I found him!" you grinned, skimming through the article. "It is with a heavy heart that the Navy mourns the loss of one of its finest. Vice Admiral (d/n)..."

Your voice trailed off at the end, nearly dying completely as the words rang in the air, sounding foreign, despite it being you that said them.

Zoro froze mid-push up, eyes wide.

'Oh, no...'

Nami quietly gasped, hands rising to cover her mouth in shock, the others sharing similar expressions.

"After failing to return from a routine patrol of the sea surrounding Dunga, the vice admiral was reported missing. Naturally, the Navy sent out a search party, and discovered his ship floating aimlessly a few miles away from the island, battered beyond repair," you continued, frantically searching for some sort of catch. "According to Vice Admiral Momonga's report, upon boarding, the party found his body, along with the bodies of his entire squadron, on deck, each of them dead by varying causes."

No...

It wasn't true...

It couldn't be...

'Papa...'

You chest felt like it was going to cave in on itself, but you couldn't keep yourself from reading, still hoping for a twist.

"Of course, given the ship's close proximity to Pirate Island, it is safe to assume that the Blackbeard Pirates were the perpetrators of this deed. But, nonetheless, we are still left to grieve over this monumental loss..."

Shaking, your legs finally gave out, dropping you to your knees and your hands tightly gripped the newspaper, crumpling the pages.

"Oh, (y/n)..." Nami dropped to join you, a sorry expression on her face as she rested a comforting hand on your shoulder. "I'm so sorry."

You stayed stiff as a board, still in a state of shock.

Your father loved you with every bone in his body.

He was the man that taught you how to fight after finding out you were being picked on.

The man that kissed away your boo-boos after your daily adventures in the woods.

The man that held you during a thunderstorm after finding you hiding under his covers.

The man that paraded you around the house whenever you were sad, just to see you smile.

And despite the fact you ran away from home, despite the fact you joined the side he'd been fighting for over half his life... that reality never changed.

You were still the same, old (n/n) to him, and he was still your papa.

The papa... that you would never see again.

Your throat let out a wail of sorrow as you crumpled into Nami, clutching the paper tightly in your hands.

Everyone froze, hearts breaking at your sadness, expressions falling at the sight.

Your shoulders rocked with sobs, tears rolling down your hot cheeks like rivulets, your brows cinched in a look nothing short of agony.

You couldn't breathe, your chest heaving with effort as it attempted to retain the air you pushed out with your bawling.

"It can't—! I won't—!" you sputtered, coughing and gasping in an attempt to form the words. "He promised me! H-He promised me I'd see him again!"

"Don't start slackin' on me, kiddo. The next time we meet, it won't be as friendly," your dad smiled, ruffling your hair. "You may be tough now, but you better be a hell of a lot tougher if you wanna stand a chance."

"Psh! The next time we meet I'll be a hell of a lot stronger than you," you scoffed, proudly. "And then I'll kick your ass all the way back to the Red Line!"

"Like hell you will!" he exclaimed, hitting you upside the head with a haki-coated fist.

"OW! Papa, that hurt!" you loudly winced, rubbing the spot

"I love ya, (n/n)!"

"Love you, too, you old jerk!"

A new wave of tears erupted, your sobs becoming even more uncontrollable.

Your mind was completely gone with grief, only one word sticking out among the chaos.

"PAPA!"

Setting himself down on one of the mats in the crow's nest, Zoro's chest tightened, the sound of your wails on a permanent loop within his head.

After hours of consoling, Nami and Robin had finally calmed you to sleep, your body utterly exhausted from all the crying.

Sanji had made a banquet of your favorite foods for dinner, but you didn't eat a single bite.

Brook tried to serenade you with happy songs, but they all seemed to go in one ear and out the other.

Even Luffy tried to make you laugh, but it only made you even sadder, reminded of the times your father tried to cheer you up.

Safe to say, the entire crew was worried sick.

But, in a last ditch attempt to lift your spirits, Usopp and Franky banded together to build an altar in the crow's nest, using one of your father's old newspaper clippings as a photo.

It was beautifully ornate, yet simple, clearly demonstrating the skill and care it took to make it.

They hoped to surprise you with it when you woke up.

But before that... Zoro had to do something.

Using a match, he lit the incense that sat in front of your father's image—the picture of him standing at attention, arms crossed over his chest and expression pulled taut.

He looked strong, like a hero in a comic book, and twice as mean.

Though, if your stories were anything to go off of, he was apparently nothing but a big, old teddy bear.

Clapping his hands together, Zoro shut his eyes, paying his respects.

Without this man, he would've never met you.

Never seen your smile...

Never heard your laughter...

Never held your hand in his...

You were among the most important people in his life, and you wouldn't be the strong, kind, and compassionate woman he knew without your father.

That alone made him deserving of thanks.

But that wasn't the only thing the swordsman was there for...

Opening his eyes, Zoro's hand moved to grab the handle of his Wado Ichimonji, pulling the blade out of its sheath and holding it upright.

"Vice Admiral (d/n)... my name is Roronoa Zoro, and I am the man who will be the World's Greatest Swordsman," he started, deadly serious, looking straight into the eyes of your father's picture. "You don't know me, and I've never had the privilege of meeting you in person. But if there's one thing we have in common... it's (y/n)."

He tensed slightly, as if bracing himself for some harsh attack, letting out a smooth, deep stream of breath to calm his nerves.

"I love her... a lot."

He paused a little awkwardly, but cleared his throat to cover it up, pressing forward.

"Okay... maybe more than a lot," he corrected, glancing down at himself. "But it's because of that I put my life on the line for her every day... and it's because of that I'm worried about her safety."

His gaze sharpened, grip tightening on his sword.

'Bastards...'

"The newspaper revealed (y/n) as your daughter," he stated, jaw set tight. "She told me you tried to hide that, in case any of the pirates you put away managed to escape and seek revenge... but now that the secret's out... and you're dead... it's open season on her head."

He felt anger claw at the back of his throat, threatening to spring loose.

The Navy was fucking useless...

In their lousy attempt to honor the vice admiral's memory, they had inadvertently outed you to the world, completely destroying the years upon years of secrecy your father had worked so hard to protect.

Did they forget about his notoriety?

Forget about the thousands of pirates he'd jailed?

Forget about the countless enemies he'd made?

Forget about the hundreds of dangerous Impel Down escapees?

In your state of mourning, you were incredibly vulnerable, and if a blood-thirsty, revenge-seeking pirate came around wanting to settle a score, he wouldn't give two shits about how you were feeling.

Intentional or not, the Navy had thrown you into the proverbial lion's den.

But it would be a cold day in hell before Zoro let anything happen.

"While she's strong as hell on her own, with you gone, someone's gotta step up to support... be a figure or a name attached to her... strong enough to ward off any unwanted attention..."

He tensed, glancing back up at the picture.

"Which is why I'm here."

Taking another deep breath, he turned his gaze to his sword, now more prepared than ever.

"Vice Admiral (d/n)... I am in love with your daughter. And I solemnly swear from this moment forward... that I will never let her know pain."

His brows furrowed, expression cinched tight in earnest.

"That any weapon, plan, or plot made against her will fall at my blade... that any who come with the intent to harm her will be struck down without a second thought."

What Zoro saw that day scarred his heart for the rest of his life.

To see you so distraught... so crushed... broke a piece of him as well, and it was clear based off the others that gestures would not be able to break through to you.

So, for once, he would have to let his words speak louder than his actions.

"That I will stay by her side until she no longer needs me... that I will protect her with my every breath... that I will be a friend, a guard, a partner, or none at all at if she wants me to be..."

He paused, taking a second to make sure he was ready for the next part.

"But most importantly... that I will love and care for her just the same," he finished, before firmly tucking his sword back in its sheath. "She'll be protected... so don't worry."

A smirk rose to his lips, his eyes finding their way back to the man's picture.

"Soon enough, she'll have the World's Greatest Swordsman as her bodyguard."

[mcondance]

enraptured. s2 spencer reid x reader. MDNI.

spencer calls up the words that you can’t when he’s inside you.

you’re well-spoken and wildly intelligent, you’d have to be to be with spencer, but he’s got a way with his dick that makes you lose whatever train of thought you think you’d be able to catch, and he just knows more words than you. it’s just him.

you have a tendency to try to be articulate when he’s kissing your face and that spot inside you at the same time, gorgeous groans and catches of breath and spencer-esque sounds flowing from his lips. it never really works, though.

“i feel, fuck, feel. .”

“hm?” he allows you time to conjure up a word to put to what’s going on, but it slips right out of your mind along with everything else except him and all the perfect extensions of him. above you, he looks dazzling, hair that’s grown out just a little longer framing his face and falling down his neck in a wildness that’s everything to you.

the visual, the sounds, the feel is too much and you couldn’t recite your own name, even if you tried your hardest. you stutter through a breath and a moan, and spencer tucks his head into your neck and breathes a broken sound into your skin.

and then, he speaks. “you feel euphoric?”

god, you’ve got to be a sapiosexual with the way that has you whining and clenching down around him.

“mhm. you feel intoxicated. beatific,” he sings, tone and cadence more addicting than any piece of music you’ve ever heard.

and you do, you feel all of it and more with him talking in your ear and making obscene love to every place inside you and out that craves it with every second he’s not like this with you.

he speaks again. “enraptured. that how you feel?”

[springtyme]

𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐲 ♡

Spencer Reid x reader || Main masterlist || Spencer playlist

summary: You spend a lazy sunday with Spencer.

word count: 765

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞: 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟕) 𝐋𝐚𝐳𝐲 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲

You stretch out on the couch, snuggled in a soft blanket, letting the warmth engulf you. Sunlight streams through the window, casting a golden glow across the living room. It’s a lazy Sunday, and the world outside seems to slow down, matching the rhythm of your day.

As you glance over at Spencer, who’s sprawled in the armchair, you can’t help but smile. He’s buried in a book—one of those dense, scholarly tomes that only he could find leisurely. His hair is tousled, and there’s a forgotten mug of coffee on the table nearby, steam still curling lazily into the air.

“Spence,” you call softly, your voice almost a whisper.

He looks up, his brown hazel eyes sparkling with a mix of curiosity and amusement. “Yes?” he replies, shifting in his chair, his attention torn between you and the captivating pages.

“What’s the topic today?”

He beams, the sparkle in his eyes intensifying. “It’s about the psychological impact of color on human behavior. Did you know that studies show blue can create a sense of calm?”

“No, I didn’t know that, but it’s interesting.” You chuckle, shaking your head playfully. “Only you would spend a Sunday learning about the psychology of colors, Spence.”

“Do you want to know more?” he asks, his voice animated, and you can’t help but love how passionate he is when he talks about his interests.

You sit up, pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders. “Sure, but first, there’s something we can do to test out that ‘sense of calm’ theory.” You gesture to the blanket, the soft blue fuss of fabric draped around you, inviting him over to join you.

He hesitates for a moment, torn between his book and you, but your smile is irresistible. With a small laugh, he sets the book down and pads over to the couch, slipping in beside you. You nestle against him, resting your head against his shoulder as he wraps an arm around you.

“This is much nicer,” he muses, leaning his head against yours.

You close your eyes, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere, inhaling the comforting scent of his shampoo. The world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you in this cozy bubble. “So, tell me more about how colors affect our mood,” you say, nudging him gently to continue.

Spencer goes on, the words spilling out with delightful enthusiasm, but you find yourself drifting in and out of his explanations, comforted by the cadence of his voice. His talk evolves into a blend of colors, emotions, and the psychological associations various hues evoke. He mentions how warm colors, like red and orange, can elicit feelings of excitement and energy, while cooler colors, such as green and blue, promote relaxation and calmness. You listen, occasionally catching snippets of data and studies, but even more so, you’re enchanted by the sound of his voice and the way he lights up when he discusses his passions.

“Did you know,” he continues, his fingers gently stroking your back, “that yellow is often associated with happiness and optimism? But too much of it can actually lead to frustration and anxiety. It’s a delicate balance.”

You nod, slightly drowsy, but still invested in his words. “Sounds like colors are more complicated than I thought,” you murmur, a soft smile playing at the corners of your lips.

As the afternoon rolls on, you both decide to take a break from deep discussions, opting instead for a movie. Spencer adeptly picks one from your collection, and you laugh when he chooses a quirky classic rom-com, probably unaware of the irony.

As the film plays, you snuggle deeper into the blanket, resting your head against Spencer’s shoulder, feeling the warmth radiate between you. The opening credits roll, and you can’t help but smile at the familiar soundtrack—the kind of feel-good music that reminds you of lazy  afternoons spent on the couch together.

Spencer’s hand finds yours, fingers intertwining effortlessly as the movie unfolds. The lighthearted banter on-screen makes you chuckle, and you steal glances at Spencer, whose eyes twinkle with amusement. You appreciate these moments, finding joy not just in the film, but in the shared experience, the little moments of connection that weave your lives together.

As the credits roll, you find yourself wondering how you got so lucky. The day has been simple yet perfect, filled with laughter, warmth, and a sense of easy intimacy. You turn to him, brushing a stray hair from his forehead, and he looks at you with a gentle smile, his eyes reflecting the soft glow of the afternoon light.

[wandasreallover]

Tthsi request^

Sweetest devotion|college!lizzie x fem!reader

College!au

Warnings: fufffff, fluffiest shit iv ever written, rage bait(woken up by a guitar)

The campus of yale University radiated with the vibrant energy of college life—a cacophony of laughter, conversations, and the rustling of leaves in the autumn breeze. Elizabeth olsen more than just another student; she was a presence, a force, with an aura that drew people in like moths to a flame. And in that immense world, she seemed even larger when she was with you, her roommate.

Every morning began the same. You woke to the gentle sound of lizzie's music wafting through the shared dorm room. The soft strumming of her guitar intertwined with her lilting voice, creating an atmosphere that was impossibly cozy and inviting. Even though you wished for just a few more minutes of sleep, you couldn't help but smile at the warmth and creativity of your best friend.

Today was no different. You blinked awake to find her perched cross-legged on the edge of your bed, her bright eyes sparkling beneath the strands of her dark hair, a hint of mischief dancing in them.

“Come on, sleepyhead! We’ve got a whole day ahead of us,” she teased, flashing that signature grin of hers that could light up even the gloomiest of mornings.

You stretched, momentarily groggy, but lizzie's joyful energy was infectious. “Okay, okay. Just give me a minute to brush my teeth," you replied, pulling the quilt off and swinging your legs over the side of the bed.

After a quick wash-up, you donned your favorite hoodie and jeans. As you stepped out of the small bathroom, you were met with lizzie’s approving nod. The simple act of her presence made you instantly feel like the softest, most cherished version of yourself.

“Ready to go?” she asked, a sparkle in her eye that made your heart flutter. You had gotten used to this routine—

Lizzie would hop on her bike and insist on giving you rides around campus, her laughter spilling into the air as you clutched onto her waist.

The campus was sprawling and filled with the chatter of students, but all Lizzie could focus on was the soft rhythm of her heart as she waited by her bike, having gotten boredof waiting for you to get read. The sun dipped low, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, and the breeze carried the scent of autumn leaves.

When you finally appeared, a bright smile lighting up your face, Lizzie’s heart soared. “Hey, ready for another adventure?” she called out, her voice smooth and inviting. You nodded eagerly, the thrill of the ride always infectious.

With a practiced grace, Lizzie helped you onto the bike, ensuring your safety while still maintaining a casual dominance that came naturally to her. You settled behind her and wrapped your arms tightly around her waist, the heat of her body warming you against the cool of the evening. She always enjoyed this part, the closeness, the connection, knowing you felt secure with her.

“Hold on tight,” she teased as she revved the engine. The roar startled a flock of birds into the sky, but you felt safe nestled against Lizzie’s back, every bump and curve of the ride sending adrenaline racing through your veins.

The world blurred past as Lizzie expertly weaved through the streets, the wind whipping through your hair and laughter spilling from both of you. She loved the feeling of you clinging on, the way you turned each ride into a moment of pure joy.

You could feel the rush of wind against your skin and the rhythmic cadence of her pedals, mingled with lizzies's joyous squeals as she weaved through the crowd. At that moment, with her laughter reverberating in your ears and the world whizzing by, everything felt right. You were home.

“lizard, slow down!” you laughed, the thrill of speed becoming electric.

“No way! I love having you close like this!” she teased, glancing over her shoulder with a playful smirk. You could see the self-assurance in her face, how she treated every twist and turn as an opportunity to show just how much she enjoyed your company.

When you finally reached the library, your hearts were racing, not just from the bike ride, but from the easy rhythm that tethered you two together. As you walked through the dimly lit library, you could see various students huddled over books and laptops, lost in their own worlds. Yet you and elizabeth created a little bubble of your own, filled with whispers, giggles, and the closeness that both warmed and grounded you.

Settling down in one of the cozy study nooks, you pulled out your textbooks while Wanda flopped down next to you, pulling you closer with a nonchalant maneuver that found you nestled against her side.

“Okay, let’s get studying!” you said, flipping open your notebook, but Wanda had other ideas.

Mid-sentence, as you explained a concept that made sense in your mind but perhaps not in words, you felt a soft brush of her lips against yours. Her kiss was sweet, soft, and entirely unexpected, leaving your thoughts jumbled. It was moments like these that took your breath away.

“You just looked so pretty and kissable,” she murmured, her cheeks slightly flushed.

You couldn't help but smile, feeling a giddiness spread through you. “You’re going to distract me,” you said, feigning seriousness, but there was no hiding the grin on your lips.

“Good,” she replied, pulling you into her lap. The warmth of her body enveloped you like a cozy blanket, making it hard to focus on anything but her. The little study session became a series of shared giggles and whispered secrets, her fingers gently tracing patterns on your arm while your book lay abandoned.

Minutes turned into hours—elizabeth, soothingly protective, would lightly scold you whenever she caught you staring at her instead of your notes. “Concentrate! We’re supposed to be studying,” she teased, lacing her fingers through your hair, as if to keep you tethered to the material.

In those simple study sessions, you discovered a deeper side of her. Beneath the playful banter and laughter, Lizzie was fiercely protective, her desire to see you succeed matched only by her softness. When you struggled with a difficult concept, her encouragement would wash over you like a balm.

“Hey, you’re brilliant,” she would encourage, her voice low and steady. “You just need to approach it from a different angle. Let me help you.”

And so, you’d find yourself curling closer, losing track of time as she patiently guided you through the material. But more often than not, a lingering kiss or a playful comment would pull you right back into her orbit. She had a way of making you feel like the most cherished secret in the world.

As evening rolled around, the golden hues of sunset streamed into your dorm room. Wandering outside, you both settled on the grass, a blanket laid out beneath you. The sky transformed above, responding to the soft whispers and laughter you both shared while you lay against her.

“Do you ever think about what’s next?” she asked softly, idly twirling a strand of your hair between her fingers.

“Sometimes. But right now, I’m just glad to be here with you,” you replied, tilting your head to look into her warm eyes. “You make everything better, Lizzie .”

She smiled, leaning forward to press her forehead against yours. In that moment, the noise of the world faded, and it was just the two of you wrapped in the comfort of each other’s presence.

You knew your college journey was far from over, but with your lizard by your side, you felt invincible. No matter what challenges lay ahead, you had found a home in her heart, and you weren't planning on letting go any time soon.

[fanaticsnail]

Is this a bullet, Captain?

Hey Doc Masterlist here

Word Count: 840+

Synopsis: Your captain ventures below deck to your office with a grimace on his face and a slight hobble in his step. You wait patiently for him to explain himself, and hope he has learnt a lesson from this experience.

Warnings: surgical talk, mention of a gun, exhausted Doctor, grumpy captain. gn!reader x platonic!Kid, suggestive talk, swearing.

Notes: Thank you to @feral-artistry for sending another video for inspiration for this little character exchange. I love these so much.

Tag List: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @sinning-23

“Hey, Doc?” the booming voice of your captain calls to you from the other side of the door. There is a small quiver in his tone, and an almost desperate twitch in his cadence, “Need ya’, Open up.” 

From your reclined position on the bed enjoying a few moments peace and listening to the music coming from the transponder snail beside you. The lyrics come to a screeching halt as you switch the small device off and walk your way to the door. 

Truthfully, you were shocked it took him this long to make it to your office after the commotion you heard above deck. The large explosive sound, followed by the string of barked explicit dialogue immediately thereafter, had you relaxing yourself and awaiting your captain to sheepishly enter your office. 

As you open the door, you ask him monotonously without an air of humor or teasing in your tone.

“Anything to do with: ‘Oh fuck, oh fuck. It’s in my ass, it’s right in the meat of my ass’, by any chance, Captain?” You usher him inside, watching him hobble over to your surgical table. He passes you with a grumbling grimace and nodding his admission to you. 

Huffing out a soft sigh, you motion him over to the bet and ask him to drop his pants with a small gesture to his belt with your index finger. He growls, using his right hand to loosen his belt and hook his waistband over his hip, scurrying out of his patterned pants. 

“Lay face-down on the bench and tell me what happened,” you order him softly, shaking your head at him as he pouts and huffs his disdain for taking your orders, “What’s in ‘the meat of your ass’?” You place latex gloves over your hands and snap them at the wrists. 

Giving him a once over, you notice there is a fair amount of bleeding and an angry looking indent in his left ass-cheek. Placing your hand on his lower back between the dimples, you reach down and gingerly touch the marking before you huff out your disbelief.

“Is this a bullet, Captain?” you ask him, moving over to the side and readying your surgical pliers and placing it in your hands, “It still in there?”

Kid offers you a soft, mumbled conformational hum in response, burying his forehead in his right forearm to hide his flushing embarrassment over his face. You shake your head at him, applying a numbing cream to the circular hole and beginning to dig around in the entrance wound. 

“And what did we learn?” you ask him in a soft, reflectional tone with a slight tinge of condescension. He growled at you, bringing his furrowed brows and pouting lips away from his forearm and scowling at you. 

“Learnt not to place a marine’s fucking pistol in the back of my pants after disarming them,” he spat before offering you a soft smirk, “At least without checking to see if the thing is loaded.” You shook your head at your captain, huffing out a sigh of absolute exasperation. 

After fishing out the bullet, you placed it down onto the surgical tray with a soft ‘clink’ and began stitching up the hole. Kid hissed through the pain, his grimace morphing into a pout once you informed him you stitched up the incision. 

“All done, Cap,” you inform him, prompting him to look up over his forearm at you with gratuity. He glances over his shoulder and sneers at the exposed stitches. 

“What the fuck you call this?” Kid’s barked breath called over at you as you took off your latex gloves and discarded them. You furrow your brows and look over at him, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Five stitches in your left ass-cheek,” you nod to him, cocking your head to the side and glaring at him. He deepened his frown, looking over his shoulder and back at you again. He growls out at you, pouting like a petulant child. 

“Yeah, I see that, Doc,” he mocks you before sheepishly grasping the back of his neck with a small smile, “I just wanna know where my fuckin’ cool punk-band aid is, is all.” You roll your eyes at him, stalking over to your draw and growling under your breath.

“You’re a pain in my ass,” you huff, fishing out the box of patterned band aids with Kid’s Jolly Roger printed on the exterior. You turn to glare at him over your shoulder, watching as his lips curl into a smirk.

“No, this is a pain in the ass,” Kid gestures to the incision with his giant metal arm, “Now gimme my punk-band aid.” He laid back onto the surgical table and waited to be granted the prize he so desperately sought. 

“Fine,” you relent, unfolding the packaging and reaching down to plaster it over the stitches, “Happy now, Captain?” you scoff, looking down at the red and black pattern over his ass cheek. 

He took one look at it and released a breathy snort through his nose with his laughter. 

“Ecstatic, Doc.” 

[notwantedonthemoon]

OH HECK YEAH Lovely to see people enjoying this book. On the topic of Lucy, there's a PhD dissertation project which has the best take on Lucy I found so far, which I'm linking here if anyone is interested in reading. It also introduced me to some other books written by Canadian authors, and they sound pretty interesting.

And Mottyl is an instant favourite for anyone who grew up loving My Little Pony (me). Her biggest strength is making friends. You can't get more friendship-is-magic than Mottyl.

Anyways. Not Wanted on the Voyage. Still takes my breath away with how devastating it is. And also how soft and lovely some of the moments are.

For the Good Omens fans who like fresh takes on biblical lore, I present to you: a very good book: Not Wanted on the Voyage, by Timothy Findley.

It was assigned reading for my first year undergrad English course, and was the first biblical fanfic I read during my transition from living in (at that time) a small town Catholic cult community to living in a city and studying natural sciences in a big university. (Context: my high school graduating class consisted of 24 people, which was a record at that time.)

It was also the first time I encountered a normalized trans character (Lucy) in media. And, no shock to anyone, she is the cleverest, kindest, & wisest character in the novel.

This book broke my heart in ways I'll never forget, so it seems fitting to share it with all you other folks who watched those last 15 minutes of Good Omens S2 over and over. You're welcome (I think).

Note: Especially good if you like talking animals (which I do). (Mottyl my beloved.)

[Cover image via: http://www.abebooks.co.uk/servlet/BookDetailsPL?bi=10916269522, Fair use, https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?curid=42697130]

[veronicaphoenix]

the last song | n.s.

With the new album finally completed and a new song dropping in a couple of days, Noah takes his girl to the studio, hoping to show her around without the chaos of past recording days, and maybe, he can get that last song he's been dreaming of.

one shot ✨ | noah sebastian x fem.reader word count: 2.3k tags: established relationship, fluff, fluffy sexual content (it's not too explicit), reader has a slight kink for noah's silver chain (who doesn't, let's be honest), no trigger warnings, just noah being in love and being loved back.

The studio is finally empty. 

After weeks of relentless work and dedication, days blurring into nights, headaches, frustration, last-minute changes, and ups and downs not only in the sounddeck, but also in the mood of the whole team, the album was finally ready, and in a matter of days, new music would fill spaces beyond the studio’s confines.  

         Noah steps aside to let her in. She is enveloped in the grandeur of the space. Never before had she been in a recording studio, and its magnitude overwhelms her. The expanse stretches out before her, a labyrinth of hallways leading into rooms of creativity. There are framed records adorning the walls, a testament to the artistry that thrives within these walls. This feels like the type of place Noah would call home. Too bad she hasn’t fully realized yet that his home is her,no matter how many hours he’s spent away from her locked in this very right place. 

         While she is fascinated by the array of instruments, cables, and other things she doesn’t know the name of, it’s Noah himself who captivates her the most. His joy is palpable as he gives gently explanations about the use of each room, each instrument. His enthusiasm is infectious. He’s so eager to share his world with her. 

         This is one of the reasons why she’s so in love with him. 

         His passion. 

         And she is lucky enough that he’s equally passionate about music as he is about her. 

         Taking her hand, he leads her from one room to another, continuing his explanations and sharing curiosities about this and that, mentioning the guys, the places where each one usually sits while they review the recordings, the Starbucks cups that pile up in the corner of a table when they’ve been locked in there for twelve hours and start to suffer the effects of not seeing the sunlight or hearing the sounds of the outside world, anecdotes that ignite her laughter, a sound that makes Noah’s heart flutter. 

         She asks him about the new music, she pleads to hear at least one song, a piece, ten seconds. Nearly begs him. She knows she just has to utter the word “please” and Noah will give her anything she wants. This evening, she wants to hear the melodic cascade of his voice, get lost in the way Noah turns words into dreamy melodies. It’s not enough to hear him speak; she wants to hear him weave words into a song; she wants to drown in the melodies he has put into lyrics that speak of her, of the moments when they are stripped of all mundanity, of clothes and fear, when they are alone, skin to skin, and when all that can be heard is only the rhythm of their beating hearts and the symphony of their shared passion. 

         He insists he can’t. He wants it to be a surprise. He has hopes that when she listens to the album, one or two songs will get her on her knees, while others will lead her to beg him to fuck her to the cadence of those. 

         Embedded within the lyrics of the new songs are a few confessions, but there’s a time for those to reach her ears, and it’s not tonight. 

         He silences his phone and sets it aside while she occupies herself by tinkering with the buttons on the soundboard. A few minutes later, Noah sneaks up behind her, enveloping her in his warm and slipping his hands beneath the fabric of her white t-shirt.  

         “There’s actually... one last song missing,” he murmurs against the fragrant scent of her hair.  

         “One last song?” She asks, her curiosity piqued. She begins to turn round, but Noah holds her in place. He rests his head on her shoulder, and with a trail of his fingers along the curve of her stomach, he elicits a subtle shiver that she tries to ignore. “I thought you said the album was complete, that you had finished...”

“Not quite yet,” he replies, planting a ghostly kiss on her earlobe. 

         She can sense the cool, minty breath against her neck, and it sends a shiver down her spine. He has been indulging in a mint candy, and her mind wanders to the tantalizing thought of having his mouth between her legs at this moment. The idea of that refreshing sensation sends a rush of desire coursing through her veins, and she can’t help but wonder if it would be enough to push her over the edge. 

         She smells of jasmine and the promise of spring. He wants to inhale her, breathe her in.  

         Concerned, she wriggles in his embrace until she can face him, stepping back a few paces as she speaks. She wants him to take her seriously.

         “I didn’t know, Noah. I wouldn’t have asked you to bring me here if you were still in the middle of—”

         With a single step, he reaches her again, his smile widening at her endearing bewilderment. He captures her lips in a kiss, stealing her breath away. The taste of the candy is still on his lips, and his fresh breath enters her mouth as their lips part.

         It’s in the way their mouths fit together that she finds reassurance that they’re perfect for each other. She knows she’s found the boy of her dreams, and the mere thought of being apart from him feels unbearable. She doesn’t know how she will survive next time he goes away on tour. For now, she will live in the way his tender kisses have a way of evolving into passionate bites that ignite a delightful flutter in her stomach. 

         “You’re adorable,” he says over her lips. 

         For a moment, she feels dizzy. Then, with a determined frown, she grabs a handful of Noah’s black hoodie, attempting to appear assertive, though to Noah, she resembles nothing more than an adorable kitten.  

         “You told me the album was complete, that you would only bring me here once the work was done and this was empty so that you could let me explore and touch things and…”

         “And record the last song,” Noah interjects calmly, looking into her eyes, smile tugging at his lips.

         Her brow furrows even deeper, her head tilting slightly to the side as Noah’s gaze traces the contours of her face, his eyes filled with admiration for every freckle, that little ever so tiny scar earned in a childhood adventure, the faint blush spreading through her cheeks.  

         “Noah, I don’t understand.”

         “Let me show you…”

         With her skin already responding to the anticipation, Noah’s hands find their way under her t-shirt, caressing the skin of her sides. It’s always just one touch and she’s already putty in his hands. She can’t help it; the man has that effect on her, that power over her. She would give him the world if she could because no one ever makes her feel as cherished as he does.  

         So, when he gently lifts her t-shirt, after worshipping her with light, seductive kisses along her neck and jawline, she allows him to undress her. His lips touch her shoulder, his tongue tracing a slow path until it finds the pulsing vein of her neck. A sharp intake of breath escapes her lips as he tenderly sucks at her skin, his fingers expertly finding their way beneath her skirt and underwear, eliciting a low, sweet moan from deep within her.  

         It’s the first of many moans to come.  

         Noah smiles against her flushed skin. His cock twitches. His heartbeat races.  

         The music is playing now. 

         He showers her with kisses, his hand cradling the side of her face as he traces a line with his finger from between her legs, through the valley of her breasts, up to her clavicle. 

         Growing impatient, she tugs at his hoodie, and sensing her urgency, he assists her in removing it. Underneath, Noah wears a black tank top, and her eyes immediately gravitate to the silver chain adorning his neck, previously hidden by the hoodie. With a heated spark in her eyes, she hesitates for a moment before seizing the chain and pulling Noah down to her awaiting mouth. 

         With one hand clutching his chain and the other sliding to the back of his head, she revels in the sensation of his soft hair sliding between her fingers. He emanates the intoxicating scent of masculine perfume and tastes like pure adrenaline—a potent combination that renders him utterly irresistible. He’s as addictive as a man can get. He’s tall, muscular, handsome, and fucking sweet. 

         And best of all, he is hers.  

         Noah scoops her up, intending to place her atop the sound deck. It would be a great place to fuck her on, but he quickly realizes it wouldn’t be comfortable at all, and he doesn’t want her to get hurt. 

         He pivots towards the couch—a place where he had envisioned her countless times before… Sitting there with pen and paper, crafting songs about her, he had often pictured her naked form, her eyes shimmering with anticipation, beckoning him to find his place between her legs, to envelop her with his body, to fill her up with every inch of him.

          With care, he lays her down on the couch, positioning one knee on the cushions to remain close to her, determined to prolong their kiss for as long as possible. He doesn’t think he can breathe without her nearby. 

         She is never shy when it comes to showing how much she wants him, how much she needs him. She’s unapologetically about her desperate desire, and that’s something that drives him to the brink of madness. Her eagerness only serves to make her so fucking attractive that he thinks he could eat her up. He’s consumed by that need, to bite and taste her in a surge of primal instinct, yet he manages to maintain a sweet and seductive demeanor. She brings out both the beast and the tender lover in him, and somehow, it’s a harmonious blend that feels inexplicably beautiful. 

         With each touch, nibble, and kiss, her passionate responses start escaping from her lips, wet with lust for him. Their clothes disappear in a matter of minutes, and as Noah finds himself —and his skilled tongue— nestled between her legs, savoring her essence, and impregnating her with his fresh minty breath, the symphony of his name being carried through long feminine moans fill the studio walls in ways he could never have imagined. 

         But it’s when he’s buried deep inside her that the music truly comes alive. 

         Together, they create a melody of ecstasy, Noah playing her body like a virtuoso, eliciting the perfect notes and sounds with each touch, kiss, thrust. She’s a tangled delicious mess beneath him, but every whimper and sigh and plea for more is a testament to her trust and love for him, a hymn sung in the throes of passion. 

         Occasionally, a primal growl escapes him, the beast within yearning to be unleashed, but she, the angel, the muse,keeps him grounded, wrapped in her wings, guiding him along the lines of their shared musical score. 

         As their bodies glisten with sweat, the tempo of their lovemaking begins to slow, descending from its crescendo, their ragged breaths filling the remaining spaces of their song. She smiles against his cheek, nuzzling her nose against his skin. She holds him close, unwilling to let go just yet. Unwilling to ever let go. 

         “So?” She murmurs, teasingly playing with her teeth on Noah’s earlobe.

          He squirms in an attempt to escape her, but her teeth follow him, leaving him with no choice but to retaliate by biting her shoulder and descending to capture on of her nipples in his mouth, coaxing one new sound from her lips. 

         “So?” he repeats, mumbling between clenched teeth, his tongue teasing her hardened nipple. 

         “Did you record the song?” she asks playfully, gesturing with her eyes towards the sound deck. 

         “No. No, I didn’t,” he admits with a laugh, feeling himself softening inside of her. 

         “Oh, well…” she licks her lips, pretending to think of what to do now. The weight of Noah feels so nice on top of her that it would be enough to just keep on holding him. “What are we going to do about it?” she continues. “Any idea?”

         She does have an idea. 

         Her cheeky tone catches him off guard, and this time, it’s him who frowns as he gazes up at her. His chest and stomach press against hers, and with each laborious breath she takes, he feels the rhythmic rise and fall of her body beneath him. He considers moving, but before he can act, she wraps her leg around his, anchoring him in place.

         She bites her lip, tempting him to do the same; to lower his head and kiss her and bite her and leave her breathless. 

         A second later, she reaches down towards her bag on the carpeted floor beside the couch and retrieves her phone, unlocks it, and opens the voice recording app. 

         “Maybe we should try again, don’t you think? And perhaps we should try to be… a bit louder?”

         His eyes darken. 

         “Think you can do that?” she asks him, a devilish smile painted on her face. 

         “I can definitely make you sing louder,” he growls, feeling himself hardening once more while still inside of her. His home. 

         She has a way of provoking him that never fails to get him hard anywhere, anytime, in no time. 

         “Do I… press play now?” Her fingertip hovers over the screen. 

         Noah responds by pulling a few inches out and thrusting hard into her, their bodies moving in perfect synchronization against the worn fabric of the sofa they are laid on. She lets out a scream as her fingertip presses the play button. The phone falls with a thud on the floor. 

         And with that, they’re making music once again. 

         One last song. 

         One more time. 

         Louder. 

[machaeraaster]

"If you love music so much... why did you disband your original band?" Edgeworth inquired in a very serious tone "Why bother making a new band with us when you had something so much bigger?"

The prosecutor Klavier gave him a smile in response—a smile with a little taste of bittersweetness.

"Indeed. Why did I do that?"

~~~~~

Here’s a little taste of one of the many subplots in “Cadence of Change”: Klavier started a small band called “Hygge” after breaking up “The Gavinners” . But why he made that choice... is still a mystery 👀

But one thing is for sure: he's going to help the other members of his band find a safe place in music!

If you want to know more about my AU, you can check out the tag #cadenceofchange in my blog <3 ~