#when i die please let this be my legacy

[roturo]

SUCCESSOR -`♡´-

summary: He believes he’s going to die soon, and the idea of leaving the Kira case unfinished gnaws at him. The thought of his legacy fading away too soon is unbearable. He needs a successor. And soon.

warnings: A LOT of breeding, smut, unprocteted sex, overstimulation, multiple rounds, pwp, tummy buldge, mentions of cum, mating press, virgin!L, obssesed!L, mentions of forming a family, not proof read and sleepy while writing this. and more.

a/n: ik this is going to have as much support as my other works, but it's def one of my best and favs writings, so please show me your support with a comment and reblog! it means a lot for me!

You've been part of the task force for a while now, ever since L handpicked you for his elite team. As a regular member, you've earned your place and trust within the group. The necessity of keeping your identity hidden has diminished, thanks to the expanding team, but you still opt for an alias during meetings, maintaining a veil of secrecy around your true connection to L.

L’s mind is a labyrinth, each thought of a winding path leading to an unknown destination. His strategies are always a step ahead, his deductions razor-sharp. Yet, despite his brilliance, one specific thought has been haunting him lately:

He believes he’s going to die soon.

This isn't a paranoid delusion but a calculated assessment. L understands the immense dangers tied to the Kira case. The complexity of the situation has grown, and he suspects an external force at play, one that eludes even his grasp. This unknown entity has shifted the balance, making the case more perilous than ever.

L is determined not to let his legacy end prematurely. He has dedicated his life to solving the world’s most challenging mysteries, and the idea of leaving the Kira case unfinished gnaws at him. The thought of his legacy fading away too soon is unbearable.

He needs a successor.

And soon.

Finding someone who can match his intellect and tenacity is no simple task. The successor must be able to understand his intricate methods, to carry on his relentless pursuit of justice. The urgency of this mission weighs heavily on him, as he prepares to identify and groom the next guardian of his legacy.

You were the perfect match for him, and his calculations confirmed it. There was an 86% probability that having a child with you would result in someone with a higher IQ than his own, combined with the social skills he lacked. In the realm of interpersonal relationships, L was inexperienced, never having had a relationship or intimacy before. Recently, he had been contemplating how to propose this idea to you.

Should he ask you outright? Should he try to make you fall in love with him first? No, this wasn't about love. It was a precaution, a step in his investigation, a way to ensure his legacy continued if the worst were to happen.

The atmosphere in the headquarters was tense as always, the dim lighting casting long shadows across the room. You sat at your desk, engrossed in your work, when L’s quiet footsteps approached. His presence was magnetic, his aura of mystery and intellect always palpable. He paused beside you, his gaze fixed on the monitors displaying the latest updates on the Kira case.

“Can we talk?” His voice was soft, almost hesitant, a rare departure from his usual confident demeanor.

You looked up, surprised by the uncharacteristic uncertainty in his tone. “Of course, L. What’s on your mind?”

He shifted, glancing around the room as if searching for the right words. “There’s something I need to discuss with you. It’s… personal.”

Your curiosity piqued, you nodded, giving him your full attention. “I’m listening.”

He took a deep breath, his eyes meeting yours. “You’re aware of the importance of my work, of the dangers we face daily. The Kira case has made me realize that I must consider contingencies I hadn’t thought of before.”

You nodded, waiting for him to continue.

“There’s a… statistical analysis I’ve conducted,” he said, his voice becoming more clinical as he explained. “It suggests that if I were to have a child with someone of your intelligence and social capabilities, the child would have a higher IQ than mine and possess the social skills I lack. This could be crucial in continuing my work if anything were to happen to me.”

The gravity of his words hit you like a ton of bricks. L, always methodical and rational, had approached this highly personal matter with the same analytical mindset he used to solve cases. You could see the logic in his plan, yet the implications were overwhelming.

“So, you want me to… have a child with you?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Yes,” he replied, his eyes unwavering. “But understand, this is not about emotions or personal desire...I think” He whispers to himself before he continues– “It’s a precaution, a part of my contingency planning. I’ve never experienced a relationship or intimacy, so I’m uncertain how to approach this.”

The room seemed to close in around you as you processed his request. It was a cold, calculated proposition, yet it carried a weight of vulnerability and trust. L was placing his future, his legacy, in your hands.

“How do you expect this to work, L?” you asked, your voice tinged with both curiosity and trepidation.

“I’m not sure,” he admitted, his facade of invincibility cracking slightly. “I’ve considered different approaches. Should I simply ask you directly? Should I try to make you fall in love with me first? But this isn’t about love. It’s about ensuring that if I am no longer here, someone capable can continue my work.”

A silence fell between you, heavy with unspoken thoughts and emotions. L’s eyes searched yours, looking for understanding, perhaps even acceptance. You could see the conflict within him, the struggle between his logical mind and the unfamiliar territory of human connection.

“I need time to think about this,” you finally said, your voice gentle but firm.

L nodded, a flicker of relief crossing his features. “Of course. Take all the time you need. This is not a decision to be made lightly.”

Finally, you made your decision.

One evening, you found L in his usual spot, hunched over his laptop, eyes glued to the screen. The dim light cast shadows across his face, highlighting the intensity of his focus. Taking a deep breath, you approached him, your heart pounding in your chest.

“L,” you said softly, breaking the silence. He looked up, his piercing gaze meeting yours.

“I’ve thought about what you asked,” you continued, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside. “And I agree.”

For a moment, L simply stared at you, processing your words. Then, slowly, he nodded, his fingers tapping lightly on the edge of his desk. “Understood. Thank you for your cooperation.”

You took a seat across from him, the air between you charged with a new sense of purpose. “How do we proceed?”

L leaned back, his thumb brushing his bottom lip in thought. “We need to ensure this doesn’t disrupt our work or compromise the investigation. The task force must not be aware of our personal connection, as it could create complications.”

You nodded, understanding the delicate balance that needed to be maintained. L’s expression remained impassive, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes. “I must admit that emotional connections are not my area of expertise. This will be… a learning experience.  Should… we do it tonight?”

“Ah- Ah- Slow down, L-Lawliet!” you gasped, your voice breaking with a mix of pleasure and urgency.

L’s thrusts were sloppy but fast, driven more by instinct than experience. His movements lacked rhythm, a clear sign of his inexperience. He had come twice already without withdrawing from you, his body responding purely on primal urges.

He had done his research, concluding that a mating press might be the most effective position for this purpose. But he never anticipated how overwhelmingly good it would feel. Was it like this with everyone? Or was it something unique because it was you?

His thrusts grew more erratic, almost desperate. Small whines escaped his mouth, each one tinged with your name like a prayer. You could feel every twitch, every movement inside you, the raw intensity of his desire almost too much to bear.

“L,” you whispered, trying to regain some control. “You need to… slow down.”

He nodded, a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead. “I’m trying,” he panted, his voice unsteady. “It’s just… so overwhelming.”

His usually sharp, calculating mind seemed lost in the haze of sensation. Every thrust, every brush of skin against skin, was a new experience for him. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the struggle between maintaining control and giving in to the raw pleasure.

He moaned at the familiar, overwhelming sensation of climaxing again, and you could feel your own release approaching. The intensity was almost unbearable when he grabbed a pillow and slipped it under your back, angling you into an even deeper mating press. His thrusts became more deliberate, his cock somehow reaching deeper, hitting your g-spot with precision over and over again.

The pleasure was so intense, so all-consuming, that all you could do was chant his name like a mantra, each syllable a prayer of ecstasy. “L-Lawliet,” you breathed, your voice trembling with the force of your impending climax.

He watched you with dark, hungry eyes, his own pleasure driving him to thrust harder, faster. “S-shit,” he gasped, his breath hitching, “I think—” His words dissolved into a whine as he came again inside you, his release flooding your womb with a desperate, addictive need.

This wasn’t just about producing a successor anymore. It was about the raw, primal satisfaction of filling you over and over again. He was captivated by the sight of your bodies joined, the way your mixed arousal leaked from where you were connected, glistening in the dim light.

“Lawliet,” you cried out, your own climax hitting you with the force of a tidal wave. Your body tightened around him, milking every last drop of his release as he continued to thrust, his movements erratic and needy.

He whimpered, the sound vibrating through his chest as he pressed his forehead against yours, his dark hair falling in a messy curtain around your face. “You feel… incredible,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion and exertion.

He groaned before pressing his lips to yours, the kiss deep and fervent. His cock remained erect inside you, pulsing with an insatiable desire. The feeling of having you this close, of being connected so intimately, was overwhelming. In that moment, he lost all sense of reason and the initial purpose behind his actions.

His mind, usually so sharp and focused on the Kira case, was now clouded with visions of a future he never thought he'd consider. He imagined how adorable you would look, carrying his child, a baby with his eyes and your smile. The idea of having a family with you consumed him, pushing all thoughts of logic and strategy aside.

Without realizing it, he began thrusting again, the movement instinctual and desperate. Each thrust was deliberate, fulfilling the small bump of cum inside you that was already visible through your tummy. He watched in awe, fascinated by the sight of your bodies joined so intimately, the tangible evidence of his desire and your shared pleasure.

“L-Lawliet,” you gasped against his lips, your hands clutching his shoulders as he moved within you. “What... what are you thinking?”

He pulled back slightly, his eyes locking onto yours. “I’m thinking… I’m thinking about us. About a future I never allowed myself to dream of.” His voice was rough with emotion, a raw edge that you rarely heard.

Your heart swelled at his words, the vulnerability in his usually composed demeanor striking a chord deep within you. “Lawliet,” you whispered, your fingers tracing the contours of his face. “I never imagined… I never thought you’d want this.Want me”

“I didn’t either,” he admitted, his thrusts growing more purposeful. “But now, with you, that's all I can think about. The idea of you carrying my child, of us having a family…you in general… it’s overwhelming.”

He kissed you again, more gently this time, savoring the softness of your lips against his. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure through you, the sensation heightened by the emotional intensity of the moment. His hands roamed your body, memorizing every curve, every detail.

“Do you… do you want this too?” he asked, his voice trembling slightly.

“Yes,” you breathed, the admission freeing a weight you hadn’t realized you were carrying. “I want this. I want us.”

His eyes darkened with a mix of relief and desire, and he kissed you harder, his movements inside you becoming more urgent. The room filled with the sounds of your shared pleasure, each moan and gasp a testament to the bond growing between you.

As he continued to thrust, you could feel the tension coiling tighter within you, each movement pushing you closer to the edge. He seemed to sense it too, his rhythm intensifying as he chased his own release.

“Lawliet,” you cried out, your climax hitting you with the force of a tidal wave. Your body tightened around him, every nerve ending alight with sensation.

He groaned, his own release following closely behind, filling you once more. The feeling was addictive, the raw intimacy of it all-consuming. He held you close, his forehead resting against yours as you both caught your breath.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” he whispered mostly to himself, his voice filled with wonder.

“Neither can I,” you replied, your heart pounding in sync with his. “But it feels right. It feels perfect.”

He nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. “It does.”

You stayed entwined like that, savoring the afterglow and the newfound depth of your connection. The Kira case and the outside world faded into the background, replaced by the warmth of each other’s presence and the promise of a future together.

Eventually, as the reality of your situation began to seep back in, you knew you had to return to your duties. But the bond you had forged would remain, a source of strength and comfort in the days to come.

As L gently pulled out and helped you adjust, he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. “We’ll figure this out,” he said softly in a small whisper. “Together.”

“Together,” you echoed, your heart filled with a certainty that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them side by side.

[snoonz]

List of duaas

1. Ya Allah grant me the companionship of Prophet sallallahu 'alayhi wa sallam, his family and the Sahaba's in Jannathul Firdous al 'áala.

2. Ya Allah make me and my family from amongst the sabiqoon you mention of in Surah Al Waqi'ah. Let the light of our imaan emanate from our chest and from our right hand side.

3. Ya rabb, make me of those who are patient and obedient to You and to my parents.

4. Ya Allah make me of the few You love, You Pardon and You shade on a Day when there is no shade but from Your Majestic Arsh.

5. Oh my Lord, increase me in Yakeen and Tawakkul in you. Let there be no doubt in my belief in Your Oneness, Your Majesty and Power.

6. Ya Rahman, shower your Mercy upon me and save me from disgrace on the Day of Reckoning.

7. Ya Allah Al Wali - The Protecting Friend, protect us from hearts that are not humble, tongues that are not wise, and eyes that have forgotten how to cry.

8. Ya Allah, increase me in Sadaqa-e- Jariya. May the legacy of my good deeds be never-ending.

9. Ya Rabb, perfect my Deen and my Worship. Save me from Faahisha and let me complete half of my Deen with someone whose heart is attached to you.

10. Ya Allah accept my good deeds and increase me in reward and Your Mercy. Wipe away my sins and pardon me completely.

11. Ya Allah, when I die, let my soul and my record of Deeds be with the Illiyeen. Grant me and my loved ones shade under your throne when there will be no shade but yours.

12. Ya Allah grant me, my parents, and family guidance, steadfastness and increase us in Imaan and taqwa. Keep me and my loved ones away from major and minor sins and from everything that earns your displeasure.

13. Ya Razaq increase me in my love for You and Your Prophet sallallähu 'alayhi wa sallam.

14. Ya Jabbar forgive me and my loved ones and increase us in Your Blessings and Provisions.

15. Ya Khaliq lead me to more opportunities to do good and seeking Your Pleasure. Help me expand my knowledge with sincerity and ikhlas.

16. Ya Wahhaab, Purify my intentions for Your Sake alone and let me not show off or take false pride. Save me from arrogance, pride, showing off and reminding of favors.

17. Oh my Creator and Sustainer, do not leave me alone. Bless me with a righteous spouse and children who will be the coolness of our eyes. Fill our hearts with a pure love that is pleasing to you. Bless us with spouses who will guide us towards your pleasure and with whom we will spend an eternity in Jannatul firdous al'aala.

18. Oh my Lord, make me of those who are patient and obedient to You and to my parents.

19. Ya Latfeef, save me from the Fitnah of Dajjal. And save me from becoming a fitna for others

20. Ya Ghafoor, save me and my loved ones from the punishment of the grave and the punishment of the Hell Fire.

[senanatheskenana]

Rengoku baby daddy headcanons

Rengoku spends the whole of the train ride rambling to Tanjirou, Nezuko, and Zanitsu about how excited he is to behaving a baby with you. So much so that even they have to admit they were excited.

Like would your baby look like you or him? Perhaps both?

When you both learn you are with child, he makes a promise to always keep the two of you safe.

It's only partway through the Mugen Train mission that he realises that he cannot do that if he dies.

His non-functioning eye waters at the idea of you and his child living all by yourselves, your child never having met their father.

He had never pondered how much he mattered to someone. Or how much the creature growing inside of you mattered to him.

The demon stares at him in confusion when he stops swinging his sword. Akaza nearly believes that heartbroken your husband.

"Tanjirou. If I don't come back- please tell my wife" he coughs "and my family I love them"

Tanjirou is not about to let Rengoku act like he's going to die.

"Rengoku, listen to me... You aren't going to die. You're going to return home, hug your wife and hold your baby, and you're going to live a long life- watching your family grow up. You'll teach your children a legacy. Kyojurou, you're going to live and be so loved!"

His speech awakens something inside of him. He knows he must fight for you- he can't lay and wait for death like a coward. He feels reinvigorated as he continues to fight off the demon's attacks.

Akaza almost feels bad for having to kill the slayer. Almost.

It's nearly day when Rengoku finally beheads the demon, a great deal of pride overcoming himself before he faints face-first into the ground.

Rengoku is barely back to form when you go into labour, but he forces his way from his bed- against the butterfly girls' begs- and hobbles into your hospital room, clinging to your hand as you cry.

He whispers sweet words of encouragement into your hand, kissing your knuckles to distract you and never flinching when you scratch him in pain.

When the baby is born, handed to you in a soft blanket, the first thing you see is bright yellow hair. He's in love with how cute their tiny face is, even as it cries.

"Congratulations! It's a perfectly healthy beautiful baby girl!" Shinobu grins.

His daughter. Nearly the spitting image of him. 'just cuter', he thinks.

When you're both finally allowed to go home, he fights tooth and nail to do all the housework, despite his injuries. You argue with him but he's sure that he'd rather have you comfy and with baby Rengoku than tired and unwell.

Over the months he gets closer to being fullform, though he's aware he'll never see from his eye, and will always have a limp.

That doesn't mean he won't do everything for your child though <3

He'll give her piggyback rides, tuck her into bed, and build forts with her.

He doesn't admit it but having Senjurou around is really helpful when he's in an episode of pain.

Even his father tries to be more involved after the birth, trying to reconcile with his children and make an effort in his grandchild's life.

He retires from the corp after his battle with upper four, with a considerable pension, so he uses all his time to the fullest with his family

But if you think he'll be content with just one baby, you've got another thing coming.

"Aw, but you'd look so pretty pregnant again! And surely Ruka would love a new sibling"

[missnxthingg]

𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬, 𝑭𝑹𝑶𝑴 𝑨𝑳𝑳 𝑭𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑪𝑶𝑹𝑵𝑬𝑹𝑺 𝑶𝑭 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑳𝑫 . (𝑺𝑴𝑨𝑼 𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑰𝑶𝑵) - 𝐹𝐼𝑉𝐸 (𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑡𝑤𝑜)

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆 - We're close to an ending 😭 I really hope this is a preview of real life, because I NEED to see Lando win this year. Also, don't forget to check part one and the original chapter of the story.

original chapter | series masterlist | main masterlist | taglist | pt 1

landonorris

Marina Bay, Abu Dhabi

landonorris One last challenge this year, this time with the entire family by my side ❤ LFG!

yourusername Avengers, assemble!

↪landonorris Ur such an idiot, I love you ↪yourusername Learned it from the best

maxfewtrell Good to be here, brother

username1 Ollie is here! Omg, daddy Lando content incoming

username2 This is so cute! They are all reunited to see if he's going to be a world champion

↪username3 praying for it to work! He deserves it so much ↪username4 just the fact that they are all there for him makes me sob 😭 they are so cute

yourusername added to their stories

Caption: One more sleep until the big day

f1

f1 LANDO NORRIS IS YOUR 2024 WORLD CHAMPION!

tagged: landonorris

username1 oh my god, we got to see lando win his first race and first championship in the same year

username2 him as a world champion was NOT on my bingo card back in january

username3 LET'S FUCKING GOOOOOO

username4 LAST RACE KING, WE DID IT!

yourusername YES! 🧡 that's my man

↪username5 the best wag we have now! ↪username6 THE KISS YOU SHARED AFTER THE RACE, OMG! ↪username7 please lando ask her hand in marriage soon 🙏

yourusername

yourusername Everybody knows I'm not someone to give off big ass texts on the internet, especially for something I've been particularly saving for myself for a really long time. But today is a special day, and I couldn't wait until I wrote this open letter to you.

Lando, my world champion, I remember the first time we ever met. I was barely anything about a mere intern on the social media team, and you still didn't have a single hair on your face. Look at how far we've come.

This win will forever be unforgettable. You deserve every moment of glory and happiness from all the hard work you've been doing for this. You're the world's best boyfriend and godfather. Ollie and I love you very much, and we are beyond proud of you. We'll always have your back. And we'll always be here to cherish, cheer and take care of you.

Proud to be LN4 and papaya on the heart 🧡

tagged: landonorris

comments are limited

landonorris My love, this is the most beautiful thing anyone has ever done for me. I love you and I'm so glad to have you and Olivia in my life. To many more conquests in our lives from now on.

landonorris

landonorris Celebrated it properly ❤ A little party never killed nobody

tagged: yourusername

username1 I'm glad to see DJ Lando didn't die when he became a boyfriend

↪username2 we all know he'll never stop partying ↪username3 maybe we'll see more of y/n out partying with him from now on

username4 Living for the second picture omg

username5 the love of his life, truly

yourusername Same place and same reason to celebrate next year?

↪landonorris Bet

yourusename

London, England

yourusername Future world champion in the making. First classes: road driving

tagged: landonorris

landonorris I need someone to carry on my legacy in the future

↪yourusername Your F1 goat!

username1 now that he's world champion, time to teach someone else to be that as well

username2 Back to his family ❤

↪landonorris The best place in the world

⋘ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 // 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 ⋙

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Short Mob!bucky fic for yall. Enjoy!

“Why the fuck did you think coming here was a good idea?!” You whisper angrily at the bleeding mob boss in your home.

“I didn’t know your dad was coming over!” Bucky loudly whispers back in response.

“Exactly! You didn’t know which is why the smart thing to do would’ve been to call or text me to let me know you planned on coming!”

The mob boss scoffs, “Well sorry, I was a little too busy trying to not to die from a stab wound!”

“Bug, everything okay?” The chief of police, aka your father, asks through your bedroom door.

“Yeah! Sorry, America is having some issues with her girlfriend and needs someone to lend an ear to. You can start eating without me!”

“You sure!”

“I’m sure! I’m not sure how long this’ll be but I’ll do my best to speed it up.”

“No worries. Go be a good friend. I’ll be here.”

“Thanks, dad!” You listen as your father’s footsteps fade away as he heads to the kitchen.

You look back at Bucky. He’s shirtless, slumped against your wall, holding a ripped piece if his shirt to his knife wound.

You pinch the bridge of your nose and sigh, “Out of nights you get hurt, it had to be the night my dad and I have dinner together.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, “My bad. I’ll make sure to schedule my stabbings at a more convenient time.”

“Idiot,” you mumble as you grab your first aid kit.

You work in a quick and efficient silence. Bucky doesn’t make an effort of conversation because he knows you prefer silence when you work.

This wasn’t an ideal relationship you two had. Years ago, he was sure he was going to marry you. Now, he yearns for the days when life wasn’t so complicated. He wished he was still a young man, in love with a girl. When he didn’t have to worry about running his family’s organization and you were just the daughter of an ordinary detective.

Things were much simpler then.

But now he’s head of the Barnes Family, doing his best to keep up with his father’s legacy and you’re the daughter of the chief of police works as a pediatric nurse during the day, and Bucky’s nurse during the night.

It was only supposed to be a one time thing, but Bucky kept coming back whenever he or one of his people got hurt. He paid you for your services. But still felt guilty for helping him.

Especially since this is the man your father has been trying to take down for years.

“Stay here. Take some meds. I’ll check up on you, but please be quiet. If dad finds you, he’ll kill both of us.” You state with concern and seriousness.

“I’ll be fine, sweetheart. Go enjoy dinner with your pop.”

“Just text me if you need anything. I’ll pretend it’s America or something.”

“Got it. Thanks,” Bucky says as he slowly sits up on your bed after you stitched him up.

He watches as you quickly clean up and exit your room. He listens to the distant sound of you and your dad talking.

Bucky’s shoulder slumps as he lets out a shaky sigh. He wishes it never came to this, sneaking around and pretending like he still didn’t love you.

Because he does. He always will, even if you two are now worlds apart from each other, on opposing sides, never meant to be.

[bastardbloods]

“A King’s Desire”

King Thranduil x female reader

──── You are a human, but you caught the attention of King Thranduil, and he is forcing you to marry him to continue his legacy.

(please read! This is my first time writing this, so please understand my poor wording, its a little bit short too 😭)

The moon rose pale over Mirkwood, bathing Thranduil's kingdom in a cold and silent light. Deep within his palace, made of stone and wood, you stood under the dim light of a candle flickering on the table in the royal chamber. Your dark hair framed a face filled with fire, but your hands trembled, your jaw clenched as the Elven king watched you from his throne of shadows.

"You have no right to do this to me," you whispered, breaking the oppressive silence that stretched between you. Your voice was laden with suppressed anger, though it trembled with anguish.

Thranduil’s gaze remained fixed on you, his expression unperturbed, as if your emotions could not pierce the cold armor that shielded him. His beauty was almost cruel, his fine, ethereal features as distant as the stars shining above the forest. The blue eyes that met yours felt like they were made of ice.

"You are luckier than you deserve," he replied, his tone as soft as it was deadly. "You will be my wife. The line of the Elven kings must continue, and the children you will bear me will be part of that eternity. Your will is not something I need to consider."

You clenched your fists, struggling to maintain your composure. Since being brought to this place, you had tried to escape, cried for help, even wept. But nothing had changed. Thranduil had chosen you. And in his absolute power, you knew no human could defy him.

"You are immortal," you said, your voice breaking. "Why do you care about my years? I am just a human who will live and die long before it even affects you."

A cold smile curved the Elven king's lips, not one of pleasure, but of condescension.

"Precisely for that reason," he said, rising slowly from his throne and approaching you. "I am not interested in a companion who lives forever. I am not interested in shared eternity. I am only interested in your blood, your body, which will be the vessel for my offspring. A brief bond, yes, but necessary."

Your heart pounded, and tears burned behind your eyes, but you refused to let them fall in front of him. You would not give him that satisfaction. He could force your body, but he would never conquer your spirit.

"I will never be yours," you spat. "Not even when I am forced to carry your children in my womb."

Thranduil raised an eyebrow at your defiance. It was rare to find such resistance in humans, and though his coldness did not waver, something in your passion sparked a flicker of interest in him. He stopped just a step away from you, leaning slightly so that your eyes met his.

"You are wrong," he whispered, his voice chilling. "You already are."

Without another word, he extended his hand, brushing your cheek with an unsettling gentleness. You shuddered at his touch, but you didn’t move away. There was nowhere to go. In that moment, your life had become a pale reflection of what it once was.

The following days passed in a grim routine. Despite your rejection, your fate was sealed. The elves at court dared not look you in the eye, but you could feel their gazes full of pity and disdain. Each day that passed, you felt yourself fading, becoming a shadow of the person you once were.

One night, as the wind blew through the trees and the leaves whispered promises of freedom, you stood staring into the void, feeling the oppression of your belly already beginning to swell. Thranduil entered the room, his steps as silent as death’s whisper. He approached you and leaned over the bed.

"This will be your legacy," he murmured, his fingers caressing the edge of your hair.

You said nothing, closing your eyes, resisting any form of emotional submission. You could carry his children in your body, but you would never carry Thranduil in your heart.

And in the darkness, where the stars could not reach, you swore that, though they could take everything from you, your spirit would always remain free.

(part 2?)

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Lauren Bacall (To Have and Have Not, The Big Sleep, Key Largo)—"Just put your lips together...and blow" excuse me ma'am i'm briefly going to turn into a kettle. She's the quintessential Femme Fatale who may betray me in the end but I'd let her it'd be worth it

Gloria Grahame (It's a wonderful life, Oklahoma, Human desire, The Cobweb)—I'm just going to link to this Film Comment article by Donald Chase, who makes the argument more eloquently than I can, although I think Grahame's Ado Annie is more than just the 'flirtatious goofus' he offhandedly describes her as. Between that role and Violet Bick in 'It's a Wonderful Life" she's played two of cinemas best irrepressibly horny ladies. That would be legacy enough for our hot vintage queen, but she is also GLORIOUS in 'In a Lonely Place' and consistently pulls focus from her co-star Humphrey Bogart, famously one of the most charismatic leading men of his day. I think she had even more, and hotter, chemistry with him than he ever had with Lauren Bacall, which is saying a lot I know. Anyway, your honor I love her and I want her to win it all.

This is round 2 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Lauren Bacall:

"She is soooo neat. And hot. And everything. That one scene in To Have and Have Not where she says "you know how to whistle don't you? You just put your lips together and blow" altered my brain chemistry during media archaeology class and here we are."

"Lauren Bacall was a major lesbian awakening for me. Every picture of her makes it look like she’s about to destroy you physically and emotionally (why is that so hot, I may need help). She had incredible long running chemistry with her husband, Humphrey Bogart, but was an absolute star in her own right. I’ll never be over my crush on her."

"She's got that confident, no-nonsense air about her. She's a boss babe who knows what she wants and gets it DONE. Staunch liberal Democrat her whole life. Campaigned for RFK. From Wikipedia: "In a 2005 interview with Larry King, Bacall described herself as "anti-Republican... A liberal. The L-word". She added that "being a liberal is the best thing on Earth you can be. You are welcoming to everyone when you're a liberal. You do not have a small mind."" Beautiful hair. Beautiful eyes. Beautiful lips. She's just beauty. LISTEN TO HER VOICE. TELL ME THAT'S NOT THE STUFF THAT DREAMS ARE MADE OF."

"HER VOICE. Like yeah, she was absolutely stunning but oh my god, I'm obsessed with her voice"

"A gorgeous lady inside and out. One half of an absolute power couple with Humphrey Bogart, tended to him and other actors suffering from malaria whilst filming the African Queen, generally radiated grace and poise throughout her life. Also her last role was in Family Guy so she needs justice for that"

"The VOICE, the SLINK, the EYES. Woof."

"She was stunning. Tall and beautiful with a distinctive voice and able to carry her own in a male dominated field. She won the heart of millions, including one of Hollywood's most iconic leading men, Humphrey Bogart. Their story was the stuff of legends, and the chemistry between them was apparent in the multiple films they started in together. She personified the film noir dame and yet she also adapted as Hollywood changed. Her career spanned decades, and she was honored multiple times."

Gloria Grahame:

Absolute Hollywood vamp, who had a fine comedic bone. Died far too young and was depicted by Annette Bening in the stellar Film Stars Don't Die in Liverpool

I’ve heard she’s horrendously miscast in Oklahoma (I have not seen it), so if you’re coming in with that framework PLEASE set that aside because gods does this woman shine in a NOIR!! She plays the battered woman more than a full on fatale, but she manages to bring interesting nuance to characters who are written as mere sultry divergences! Also: she’s sultry and an EXCELLENT divergence

She could do sexy, sweet and sinister in the same breath. She was crazy talented and had that lisp that melts me every time.

[eustasskidagenda]

First of all I really really really love ur writing

Can I request a fem reader dating law and they are like sleeping and law starts to have a really bad nightmare where he is hurting his s/or while sleeping? Like ALOT and she tries to walk him up but when she succeeded he already damaged her so much by accident? So he has her blood on his hands and stuff but he wakes up and he doesn't realise it so she just says u had a nightmare and tried to put him back to sleep while she is in pain

And she waits for him to sleep again to go out and treat her wounds BSc she doesn't want him to feel bad for hurting her

But while she is gone he walks up and the bed is empty and there's blood on him and the sheets so he gets out to search for her in panic and gets mad and feels bad etc

Angst angst angst tk fluff please

I love u so much

Hi sweetie! Tysm for your kind words! I love writing angst, but this one was quite a challenge, I had some struggles figuring out some things. But I hope the outcome will still match your expectations! And sorry it takes me some time for this one, I injured my back lately, I can't write for a long time. Anyway, tysm for requesting. ☆

☆Law having a nightmare where he's hurting his s/o

CW : f!reader, angst, hurt to comfort, blood, mention of bullet, spoiler if you haven't read/watched Law's flashback yet, violence, usage of DF 

WC : 1,9k

Low, peaceful breaths. Legs entwined. Your head resting against Law’s tattooed chest and the silence of the cold, starry night. What a rare and beautiful moment. Law often can't sleep. The second you fall asleep, he usually just sighs and sneaks out of the bed. But tonight, his nightmares remained trapped under the pillows, not in his mind. He is beautiful when he can finally be at peace. The tired and dark expression on his face has been gone for a few hours. In his sleep, he looks for your warm touch. Maybe his body is always cold, as his heart is always kept in a cage, but your body is keeping him just warm. That's what you're in his tortured mind; solar. 

He always finds solace in it.

Dark shadows. Screams of pain. Corazon falling on the ground. Bullet sound. 

The night was supposed to be peaceful. It was peaceful just a second ago! Why are those memories haunting his mind again? What has he done to always be harassed with the same dark thoughts? 

Scream. Corazon. Bullet. Scream. Corazon. Bullet. Again and again and again and a… it's endless. Trapped in his own mind, the world around him just disappears. It's just him, facing the ghosts of his past. That's what he gets for daring to fall asleep. How foolish he was to think that his nightmares would leave him alone, just for a few hours.

The shadows are following him in his gloomy, dark world. Why are they trying to kill him? He's not sick anymore. Corazon saved him. He has the right to live. Suddenly, an invisible hand grabs him and squeezes his throat. Tightly. Squirming on the bed, fighting against his own demons, Law breathes harshly. The real world is far away from his nightmares. All he can think about is this hand squeezing his throat. He can't even breathe anymore. But he can't die. Corazon saved his life. He died. Killed by his own brother.

Now, Law has to survive. That's his legacy. The Heart Pirates will beat loudly, etched in memories forever.

The shadows disappear suddenly, just as the squeezing sensation in his throat. A laugh echoes close to his ear. A large figure hovers over him. Pink feather coat, sunglasses, short blond hair, and big, fidgety hands, ready to steal his life again. 

It's him. 

Doflamingo. 

He wants to kill him and steal his fruit. The one that Corazon robbed. No. Law won't let that bastard destroy the sacrifice made by Corazon. Law ferociously punches that damned heavenly demon right in its nose. Maybe he's a doctor, but he can't let this man live. 

All he wants is to make him suffer. 

To make him pay.

So he punches. Again and again. The only thing he can hear is Doflamingo laughing, as he always does, with his sinister, cold grin. "Just die," he shouts, his voice thick with anger and distress. The reality has vanished in his world of suffering. So he fights back. Harder. 

"Law, wake up!" Why the hell is Doflamingo talking with your voice? Is this a fresh trap? This man is the master of manipulation. He can't be tricked again. "Law, please wake up and stay with me!" That soothing hand on his cheek is so soothing. Heavenly soft. Sweat drips down his forehead as he breathes harshly. 

Doflamingo's silhouette fades away as soon as he opens his eyes. "Y/n-ya?" He tries to reach for your cheek in the dark bedroom. That touch, that skin, that warmth. So it's really you. "What happened?" He asks, his voice slightly shaky. He tries to regain his composure, breathing harshly, his heart racing crazily in his chest. "Nothing. You just had a nightmares." 

Law notices a slight tremolo in your voice. "You're alright?" You just run your hand on his cheek. "Why are you asking me this? You're the one in pain. Just go back to sleep. I'm here. Nothing will happen. You're safe in this room." No, but that was too realistic. And he can't fall asleep right away. Not with a heart beating so loudly. Not with the rush of adrenaline. "Law, you have a lot of work tomorrow. Just try to sleep." 

He tried to sleep so many times. It was never successful. However, he lies back as you gently push him against the mattress with your hands on his chest. You gently rub your thumb against his sweaty forehead. With his jaw tensed, Law obeys and closes his eyes, doing as you say. But those dark memories are etched in his eyes. Whenever he tries to sleep, the figure of Doflamingo is painfully present. 

Bullet. Corazon. Sick people crying and begging for mercy. Again and again.

"Just sleep." You whisper, focused on him, only him, despite your own state of distress. You just hope he didn't notice the blood on his hands. The one that flows down your injured nose. It hurts. Mentally and physically. It's difficult to see him so tormented by his own thoughts. You can't let him see what he has done to you; he kicks you and almost strangles you. It wasn't him, right? Law would never lend a hand to you. He would never forgive himself if he found out. You have to preserve him. So you stay. Reassuring him until he finally closes his eyes, too exhausted to stay awake. 

But a few minutes later, he wakes up, his body cold just as your side of the bed. 

"Y/n-ya?" Where have you gone? Why did you leave him alone? Law grabs the candle lamp and the bedroom is lit by a dim light. There's blood on the bed. He doesn't panic at first. But he's confused because he knows your cycle perfectly, you are not supposed to be on your periods. Afterward, he glances downwards. 

Blood. On his hands.

"Y/n-ya?" He suddenly stands out and looks for you. The Polar Tang is not that big. At last, he finds you in the small bathroom, with a cloth on your injured nose. Law looks at his hands, then at your body. There's slight bruises on your skin. That skin he cherishes so much. "What happened?" He already knows the answer, yet he's hoping for a different outcome. "I just hit my nose by accident, don't you worry." 

You're really a bad liar. 

And then, he understands. That wasn't Doflamingo, but you all the time. At first, he can't even speak. He remains there, his mouth partially open and his eyes filled with guilt. As a doctor, he promised to himself to always protect the innocent. His hands exist to heal. Not hurt. Especially not you. You are his precious girlfriend, the one who takes care of him. What have he done to you? Maybe it was a nightmare, maybe it wasn't him, but the outcome is the same. You're in pain because of him.

"I…" he wants to soothe your pain, but he steps back.  What if he harm you again? He glances again at his shaky hands. There's blood on his tattooed fingers. He is disgusted by that sight. "Why didn't you tell me?" He wants to scream, to break something, but he's too confused by the red liquid on his tan skin. He reaches for the washstand and cleans his hands, watching the red turn pink. "You were already in pain" you whisper. "Damn, y/n-ya, look at you! You're bleeding because of me. I…" He struggles to speak in a clear manner. Law has always been logical, but right now he's acting impulsively and emotionally. "I'm so sorry…" tears prickle at the corner of his eyes. "Please… let me… help you…" he's afraid of frightening you. But you just nod and stop to hold the cloth against your nose. 

Law kneels in front of you, looking at your red skin, slight bruises here and there, slightly swollen lips, and broken nose. His hands are trembling. "Shit," he whispers to himself. He tries to inhale deeply. He needs to calm down before he can heal you. And right now, you really need some assistance. "Law, it's alright…" 

Of course, no, it's not okay! "You're in pain because of me, it's not alright!" Law utilizes his devil fruit to cure your broken nose. Gently, he forces you to throw your head back until the bleeding stops. "Wait a second," he whispers before reaching for a wet cloth. After removing all of the dry blood from your face, Law sighs, sits on the ground and remains silent. 

The guilt is harassing his poor mind. Now, when he closes his eyes, there's Doflamingo, Corazon, and his hands are full of your blood. This thought will never leave him alone. 

He's so unworthy. Despite his efforts, he still fails. Over and over. He failed to save his family. He failed to save Corazon. He failed. Again, and again. 

Failure.

"Law, don't overthink, I'm alright." You whisper and wrap your arms around him. Such an irony. You're the one in pain, but you're soothing him by gently running your hands through his hair. "I'm sorry," he repeats once more. "Law, just listen to me… it wasn't you" 

Perhaps, but it was his hands that did it anyway. Exhausted, tired and guilty, Law has lost all of his usual cold expressions. He never looked that fragile, human. You kiss him softly and lovely. Law struggles to kiss you back. He refuses to touch you because he fears hurting you again. "It's okay, I'm not mad at you.  I still love you. We'll get through it." Nervously, he bites his lips. "Are you still in pain?" His eyes are begging you to tell the truth. "I'm not, thanks to you." He exhales with relief. 

"You have to rest. Can you walk?" Even if you nod, Law carries you through the bedroom. He grits his teeth as he sees the blood on the bedsheets. "Wait" He just takes them off and redo the bed with fresh bedsheets. "Now, you can rest." 

While you lay on your bed, Law begins to back away, ready to run to his desk. Nevertheless, you grasp his hand. "Don't run away." You understand that he's simply trying to avoid you. An aloof person like him just doesn't know how to deal with that kind of thoughts. "… Y/n-ya" with a sigh, he complies. That's the least he can do. Law flinches as you lean your head against his tattooed chest, feeling tense and nervous. I have already forgiven you, Law. You have to forgive yourself." 

He simply mumbles. Of course, his tortured mind will never process that quickly. Fine. You'll wait. And you'll stay by his side. You will be the guardian of his peaceful nights. Slowly, you fall right back asleep. Law doesn't shut his eyes, not even for a moment. He stays here until sunrise and finally warms your face. When you wake up, he already left. But there's a fresh drink, some pills, and something to eat on the nightstand. And a short note.

'Please, come find me if you need something. And rest' 

Law is always busy all the day and almost all of the night. And then, he just allows you to 'disturb' him whenever you need him. You can't help but smile. For someone like Law, it's like reading 'I love you' 

Of course he loves you. 

After all, he is the captain of the Heart Pirates.

[musicforastylesrestaurant]

By Order Of The Crimson Brotherhood.

(peaky blinder!harry)

masterlist || ask me anything

in which, the year is 1921, and the city of manchester is under the control of the ruthless gang the crimson brotherhood, so when there leaders wife gets mobbed in the streets on her way home from the farmers market, the styles brothers make sure they know she is one of there own.

word count - 2.6k

authors note - ik this isn’t everyone’s cup of tea but i have 100% been in my peaky blinders era as of the beginning of the month, im already on season four 🙈🙈 and thought it would be kind of cute to join the two worlds together, don’t know if this will turn out any good but who knows?? anywho enjoy angels 💗💞

January, 1921.

Harry Edward Styles, a man born and raised in the city of Manchester, a man known for his ruthlessness, his strong will and his dangerous antics.

Him aswell as his brothers roamed the streets of Holmes Chapel, with razor blades down into the flat caps which ultimately led to fear seeping into the bones of there enemies.

Which they had a lot of.

The Styles Brothers were well renown around those ends, the family always had been, there father wasn’t present and there mother died when the youngest brother was barely a year old.

Harry met you, his gorgeous girl at the age of nineteen, the two of you were childhood sweethearts, destined to be together no matter the circumstances.

You were wandering around the streets, when you bumped into him and his elder brothers Charlie and George. You were about to fall to the floor but your wrist was captured in the hands of the leader, who caught you and raised you back to your feet carefully.

You asked how you could return the favour and he muttered something along the lines of ‘you could let me take you out for a night on the town’

And the rest was history.

When the war broke out, Harry knew for a fact that he would be getting called up to represent his country, and at the point the two of you were already engaged, but he demanded that the two of you be husband and wife before he was shipped off, explaining that if he was to die, he wanted to die as your husband.

So, the two of you had a small ceremony and you officially became Mr and Mrs. Styles.

When he returned home from war, he demeanour was slightly colder due to everything that he had seen and been through, he was colder to everyone around him, except for you.

He could never be angry, harsh, callous or aggravated around you.

People feared him before he went to war, but when he returned it was like he was a ticking time bomb, one wrong move and heads would be blown.

He ruled Manchester.

And that would never, ever change.

In the heart of Manchester, you move with the grace of a queen, your every step echoing the legacy of the Crimson Brotherhood, the notorious gang led by your husband, Harry Styles.

Despite the weight of your marital ties, you refuse to be confined by the expectations placed upon you.

Alone at the market, you weave through the stalls with purpose, selecting the finest ingredients for the dinner you plan to prepare for your husband, and his brothers.

Determination fuels your steps as you pick out fresh produce, savory meats, and delicate spices, each item chosen with care to create a meal worthy of the Crimson Brotherhood.

You approach the butcher's stall with a slightly sense of innocence, the scent of freshly cut meat mingling with the bustling atmosphere of the market. As you exchange pleasantries with the butcher, you can't help but admire the array of cuts on display, each one a testament to the skill and expertise of the person behind the counter.

"Good afternoon, love. What can I get for you today?"

Returning the smile, you reply, "I'm looking for four round beef steaks, please."

One for you, one for Harry, one for Charlie and one for George.

The butcher nods, already reaching for the desired cuts. "Ah, excellent choice. Coming right up."

As they expertly select the steaks, you engage in friendly banter. "Busy day at the market?"

The butcher chuckles, their hands deftly working the meat. "Always is, especially with the sun shining like this. But I can't complain, keeps me on my toes."

You nod in agreement, admiring their skill. "I can imagine. Thank you for always providing such quality cuts."

With a satisfied grin, the butcher presents the four round beef steaks, neatly packaged and ready for you. "There you go, love. These should do the trick."

"Thank you so much," you reply gratefully, accepting the package. "I really appreciate it."

"It's my pleasure," the butcher says warmly. "Enjoy your meal."

With the package of steaks safely tucked into your basket, you bid farewell to the lively atmosphere of the farmers market. The sun's warm rays still linger, casting a golden glow over the bustling streets of Manchester.

As you walk, you can't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at having secured the ingredients for tonight's dinner.

Reaching into your basket, you retrieve a pair of gloves, slipping them onto your hands with practiced ease.

Just as you're about to slip the second glove onto your hand, a sudden grip tightens around your arm, pulling you forcefully backward.

Startled, you gasp as you're dragged into the dimly lit entrance of a secluded alleyway, the bustling sounds of the market fading into the distance behind you.

Heart pounding, you struggle against your assailant, your fingers instinctively tightening around the basket's handle, the package of steaks forgotten in your grip.

Panic surges through you as you're dragged deeper into the darkness, your mind racing with fear and uncertainty.

As the man's grip tightens around your arm, you're suddenly face to face with a stranger whose features are etched with menace. His blonde hair falls haphazardly across his scarred face, the jagged line drawing your attention to the intensity in his eyes.

The overpowering stench of rotten egg fills your nostrils, sending a shiver down your spine as he speaks.

"Just the girl I've been looking for," he growls, his words sending a chill through your trembling body. Tears blur your vision as you stare back at him, unable to comprehend the terror unfolding before you.

He was Irish.

In a voice thick with malice, he continues, his words slicing through the air like a blade. "Your husband and his brothers owe me, and I aim to collect. And what better way to send a message than through his darling wife?"

You try to speak, to plead for mercy, but fear has stolen your voice. Before you can utter a word, his fist connects with your jaw, sending you sprawling to the ground.

Gasping for breath, you curl into yourself, the pain radiating through your body like fire.

The man's laughter echoes off the walls, cold and cruel. "They crossed me, and now it's time to pay the price. And you, my dear, are the perfect pawn in this little game of ours."

As he delivers blow after brutal blow, each impact driving the air from your lungs, you cling to the faint hope that someone will come to your rescue.

But as the darkness closes in around you, you realize that you are utterly alone, at the mercy of a man whose cruelty knows no bounds.

With aching limbs, you muster the strength to push yourself upright, the world spinning around you as you struggle to focus through the haze of pain and fear.

Casting a wary glance over your shoulder, you retrieve the basket of food that had fallen to the ground during the attack.

With trembling hands, you wipe the dried blood from the corner of your mouth, the metallic taste lingering on your tongue as a grim reminder of the violence you've endured.

Summoning every ounce of willpower, you force yourself to take a step forward, the basket clutched tightly to your chest. Your movements are slow and unsteady, each step sending waves of agony rippling through your battered body.

As you reach the end of the alleyway, you pause, casting a furtive glance around to ensure that no one is watching. The last thing you need is for someone to see you in this state, vulnerable and exposed.

With a silent prayer for strength, you begin the agonizing journey home, every step a testament to your resilience in the face of unspeakable cruelty. Tears threaten to spill from your waterline, but you refuse to let them fall, determined to maintain a facade of strength until you reach the safety of your own four walls.

With each agonizing step, you inch closer to the familiar sight of 24 Spring Lane, your sanctuary from the horrors of the outside world.

The journey that once felt like a mere stroll now stretches out before you like an eternity, every movement a testament to the relentless ache that pulses through your battered body.

Finally, you reach the doorstep, the key trembling in your hand as you struggle to insert it into the lock. Your fingers fumble with the familiar motion, the simple act of unlocking the door now a monumental task in your weakened state.

As you push open the door and step inside, relief washes over you, tempered only by the searing pain that courses through your body with each labored breath.

The injuries inflicted upon you by your assailant are beginning to take their toll, the dull throb in your ribs now accompanied by a sharp sting at the top of your eyebrow.

Unaware of your husband's presence, you stagger into the living room, your focus consumed by the overwhelming need to seek refuge from the torment of the outside world. But as you drop the basket to the floor and collapse onto the ground, a cry of pain escapes your lips, the weight of your injuries too much to bear alone.

In the dim light of the room, you catch a glimpse of Harry sitting in the corner, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

His expression is unreadable, his gaze fixed on some distant point beyond your line of sight.

As you collapse onto the floor, your body wracked with pain, Harry's instinct kicks in, propelling him across the room in a blur of motion. With a sense of urgency, he drops his cigarette and rushes to your side, his hands reaching out to catch you before your skull can meet the unforgiving wooden floor.

His eyes widen in shock and concern as he takes in the extent of your injuries, his heart clenching at the sight of blood staining your face and clothes. Gently, he cradles the back of your head, his touch both tender and urgent as he ensures your safety in the midst of the chaos.

"M’Love, what happened?" Harry's voice is thick with worry, his usually steady demeanor shaken by the sight of you in such distress.

He carefully brushes the hair from your face, his touch feather-light against your bruised skin.

You struggle to find the words to answer him, the pain making it difficult to form coherent thoughts, let alone speak. But as you meet his gaze, the unspoken understanding that passes between you is enough to convey the depths of your suffering.

Without hesitation, Harry gathers you into his arms, cradling you against his chest with a fierce protectiveness that belies the tenderness in his touch. As he holds you close, you feel a sense of safety wash over you, a comforting reminder that no matter the trials you may face, you will always find refuge in his embrace.

As Harry holds you close, his voice filled with concern, he gently urges you to tell him who is responsible for your injuries. But fear grips you tightly, paralyzing your voice as you shake your head vehemently, unable to form the words to convey the terror that still grips your heart.

"Please, love," Harry implores, his eyes searching yours for any sign of reassurance. "Y’need to tell me who did this. I won't let ‘em hurt you again, I promise."

But the memory of the man's cruel laughter and the violence he inflicted upon you looms large in your mind, filling you with a sense of dread at the thought of facing him again. How can you trust that Harry's promise will hold against such ruthless brutality?

Tears stream down your face as you cling to Harry, your body trembling with the weight of your fear and pain. You long to confide in him, to share the burden of your suffering, but the words remain trapped within you, a silent scream of anguish and despair.

In response to your silent plea, Harry's grip tightens around you, his arms a shield against the darkness that threatens to consume you.

"I swear to you, (Y/N)," he murmurs, his voice a soothing balm against the turmoil raging within you. "Whoever did this won't ever be able to hurt you again. I'll make sure of it."

"I... I don't know his name," you manage to say, your voice trembling with fear and pain. "But he... he had blonde hair and... and a scar."

Harry's expression darkens as he processes your words. "Patrick McDonald," he mutters, his voice laced with anger and recognition. "Bloody hell."

Another wave of pain radiates from your ribs, causing you to instinctively turn your head into your husband's chest, seeking comfort in his embrace.

As you lean against him, Harry's arms tighten around you, a silent vow of protection against the threat that looms on the horizon.

"I'll deal with him," he promises, his voice a low growl. "No one hurts my wife and gets away with it."

“George, Charlie!”

You hadn't even realized they were in the house, lost in the chaos of your own pain and fear, but now they appear, their presence a welcome relief amidst the turmoil.

With wide eyes, George and Charlie rush into the room, their expressions shifting from confusion to concern as they take in the sight of you battered and bruised on the floor.

"What happened to ‘er?" George demands, his voice edged with worry as he kneels beside you, his hands hovering over your injuries.

Harry's jaw clenches with barely contained fury as he speaks the name that has haunted your nightmares since the attack.

"Patrick McDonald," he growls, his voice thick with anger and determination.

Charley lets out a harsh breath, his expression darkening with recognition.

"Bloody hell," he mutters, his fists clenching at his sides.

As the gravity of the situation sinks in, George's gaze flickers between you and his brothers, his features set in a steely resolve.

"We need to find him," he declares, his voice firm with determination.

Harry nods in agreement, his eyes burning with a fierce determination.

"And when we do, he'll wish he'd never laid a hand on her," he vows, his voice a low growl.

With trembling hands, you grip tight onto your husband's waistcoat, your eyes pleading with him not to leave your side.

"Please, H," you beg, your voice wavering with fear and desperation. "Don't leave me."

Harry's gaze softens as he looks down at you, his heart aching at the sight of your pain.

"I have to, m’love," he murmurs, his voice laced with regret. "That bastard deserves hell f’what he did to you, and he's going to get what's coming to him."

You shake your head frantically, tears streaming down your bruised cheeks.

"But I need you here," you plead, your voice barely a whisper amidst the chaos of the room. "I'm scared, H. Please don't leave me alone."

For a moment, Harry's resolve wavers, his love for you outweighing the thirst for vengeance burning within him. But then, with a heavy heart, he gently extricates himself from your grasp, his eyes filled with determination as he rises to his feet.

"I promise, (Y/N)," he says, his voice firm with resolve. "When we find him, he's going to hurt just like he hurt you, s’a promise, and I never, ever break promises. He’ll get what’s coming to him one way or another.”

“By order of the Crimson Brotherhood."

[ollieblogs-stuff]

Medusa and Lilith: a series of letters through time

Dearest Lilith,

I stumbled across

Your story today.

A passing merchant

Fancied himself a hero

In a moment of idiocy.

I have given up on trying to

Warn them.

I am

What they love to hate;

Something tells me

We have this in common

- Medusa.

~~~

Darling Medusa,

Though you have heard of me,

I must confess

Your name is new to my ears.

I must disagree with your

Expressed sentiments.

We are not what they love to hate;

We are as they made us.

They turned us into these things.

If they then choose to hate what

They created,

Well, that is

Their load to bear.

(I hope I have not offended you

By insinuating you are a 'thing,'

My friend)

- Lilith

~~~

Lovely Lilith,

My, what a welcome surprise to

Receive your reply!

Do not fret about

The language use.

I may have once flinched

At being called a 'thing,'

But that time has long since passed.

I do not get the privilege of

Feeling like a human being

Anymore.

I feel the weight of the word

'Monster'

Resting on my shoulders

From the moment I wake up

To the moment I fall asleep.

I am still human in my dreams.

Some days, it feels like

That is all my humanity ever was -

A dream.

When I think back

To my life before THAT day,

I loathe the way in which

I took my existence for granted.

Oh how different the world

Looks when your life is worth nothing;

When your death is prophesied

And celebrated.

I'll be worth more in death

Than in life.

- Medusa

~~~

My friend,

How my heart aches for you.

I can make my own assumptions

And conclusions about your past

And current situation from your

Previous communication,

But I know that I

Do not have the full picture.

So please excuse me,

My friend,

As I do what more people should

In a position like mine

And not say anything at all.

Just know that

I wish the best for you,

And I do not believe you

To be a monster.

Not in your heart,

And that's where it counts.

People choose to see

What they want to see.

It seems,

For both of us,

People choose to see a villain.

Evidently,

In their eyes,

There is nothing more villainous

Than an empowered woman.

- Lilith

~~~

Adored friend,

I thank you for your sentiments.

If I did not know that

Centuries and oceans

Keep us forever apart,

I may have accused you

Of reading my thoughts.

Whilst being a villain

Is not something people aspire to,

I find it more preferable to

'Hero'

With each passing day.

I am going to die,

Lilith.

I am going to be murdered.

A 'hero' who is no more than a boy

Will be the one to slay this beast.

I am to be no more

Than a milestone

In this child's path

To heroism.

I would wonder where the dignity

In this is,

But as a villain

I am permitted none.

I do not wish this

Child's legacy

To be the only reason

I am remembered.

- Medusa

~~~

Medusa, my dear friend,

We are the legacy we leave behind.

If they will not remember us as

Heroes and humans,

Let them remember us as

Monsters and villains.

If we cannot outrun

Our fate,

Let us embrace it.

Let us be

The most monstrous.

The most villainous.

Let visions of us

Plague their dreams

And moisten their palms.

Let our names be whispered

Like a prayer or profanity.

Let us make it impossible

For them to forget that

They made us this way.

Let us give them a

A damned good reason

To remember our names.

- Lilith

© O.M.A

[riskyraiker]

Hello!!! I hope you're doing well!! I would like to request cybertronian! Reader with like four arms and that's like the Queen or King of the battlefield in ancient Cybertron history (example: reader was the strongest Autobot ever in history and there's ancient data about reader and photos too ykyk what I'm getting👍🙏😭) and the reader then got summoned by Megatron or idk at that point but you can choose what happens!! :33 I hope this isn't too much😭

OH MY!!! I LOVE THIS!!! but reader is an autobot in this, please tell me if you want to see an decepticon version. You are a head taller than Megatron in this.

---------------------------------

You remembered everything about how you got killed, the crying before you lost your hearing, the optics looking in horror how the strongest autobot is about to die. Now? Nobody has any idea what happened, your body vanished before they started looking for it. Optimus carried your legacy as the one and last prime. He was your friend, but you didn't get to be friends that long. Since he was made so late and you met 10 years before the war started. It felt like you woke up immediately you fell down. Where am I? you think, but soon enough you hear a voice you recongize. Megatron. "The legend is real! Y/N! I have summoned you to help us decepticons to bring Cybertron back to life and rise as the Queen/King of the battlefields like you used to be!" used to? Used to?! "Since when I wasn't the Queen/King of the battlefields? And what do you mean summoned?" I put my upper hands on my waist and lower ones crossed. "You have been offline for quite a while, Y/N. Join us since I don't want to destroy such a fighter." What is he talking about? Before you could answer a spacebridge appeared. Well it's a groundbridge but you don't need to know that yet. Through the groundbridge walks Optimus Prime himself! "Orion?!" "OPTIMUS!" Both you and Megatron yelled. "Y/N DESTROY HIM!" Did he just order me around, used-to-be-low-level mech just ordered me around?! "Are you! GIVING ME! THE QUEEN/KING OF THE BATTLEFIELDS, ORDERS?" I jumped to attack Megatron, he dodged. Another swing and a hit aswell. Punching again, Megatron catched my servo, but is definitely struggling against all my strength. I almost forgot! I have four hands! You thought as you go and punch Megatron into his 'stomach'. You pick him up and throw him to the nearest cliff you see. "Y/n? It can't be." That low voice..turning around you look at the red n' blue mech. "Optimus?"

Optimus Prime

He missed you so much! So so so so much! No matter how emotionless he can be he definitely hugged you either at the spot where you two reunited or back at the base.

Before you were summoned and revived he used to look through your files. He always stared at the picture, trying to remember how you looked when he would do something smart or help them with something.

He would try (keyword! try) to spar with you as training, but he lost usually. (Much to his shock, he did think he was good at fighting.)

Would let you go alone to a mission (HOW) and lets you have fun with the kids every now and then.

He need help? You're there. He's losing to Megs? You're there to beat some decepticon aft.

He loves your four hands, anytime he would be hurt or just needs support all your hands would around him hugging him gently.

But in the battlefield? Oh oh I'm glad you asked. He doesn't know if he should be scared or proud to see you back in action. He is glad about that you would save him no matter what comes against.

Ratchet

He had heard about you when Cybertron still had life on it's surface.

He never believed you're real, until the moment he sees you.

Four arms!? He had to check them out (for science research of course) and see how they work, because he's a medic!

Anytime you would get wounded he's rushing over to you.

He would be against it that you would go on the battlefield. You ALWAYS have to confront him that you hold the title queen/king of the battlefield.

He does like how nice and helpful you are. Since you're the queen/king of the battlefield he didn't think you would be nice and help him around the lab.

If he needs an substitute for work when he needs rest you would take his place immediately for his sake.

Bumblebee

He would be a little scared of you since you beat Megatron so easily.

The moment you prove you wouldn't hurt any of the team he would be your son from now on.

You two always had each others backs.

He would love clinging on to one of your four arms.

He has any form of a problem? Don't worry you already know about it and you'll solve it.

If he would ever get hurt you would show the enemy why you hold the title as the queen/king of the battlefield

Before you arrived he used to read some datapads about you which he got from Optimus.

He would ask you to teach him how to fight.

Arcee

She would be amazed by the amount of arms you have, but won't show it until she trusts you.

Would trust you the moment you beat Megatrons aft in front of her optics, because none of the cons would dare to even poke him.

She would be grateful that you saved her and others in the Battlefield.

Would be surprised to find some old files of you and would be more shocked to read them.

You both are badass in Jack's opinion.

Since you know how awful it's to lose a partner in the team you won't question her or how untrusting she is.

If she would get hurt in the middle of a fight you would carry her with one of your hands and fight others.

Bulkhead

He would admire you and your strength. You just beat Megatron with ease!

He had heard rumours about someone like you when he was a wrecker back in Cybertron, but never believed them until now.

He always wants to go in battles with you to see how ruthless is the queen/king of the battlefields.

He was in trouble and cornered by vehicons in a energon mine? Those vehicons looked like they belonged in a scrapyard after you attacked them.

He would be a fanboy with wheeljack and praise the ground you walk on.

Training? Hell yea he would be in. Until he loses every single time.

Wheeljack

Oh oh don't even get me started!

Would hate you, but love your fighting style at the same time.

"pshh, show off." Could be heard anytime you and him were in the battlefield the same time.

You did start to grow on him. Suddenly you weren't so bad in fighting, suddenly you weren't such a show off, suddenly he seemed to like your presence.

Now? You two are the destructive duo.

Ratchet would be worried about you more than wheeljack.

"ouch, that just broke my spark docbot." He was definitely kicked in his aft after that.

He would go on drives with you so he could get to know you better. (Surprisingly since he's such a loner)

Smokescreen

He would run over to you the moment you walk into the base.

"YOU'RE REAL?!" apparently he has read about you before.

You wouldn't have any privacy for a week since he's like a golden retriever who clings to you 24/7

He would be flabbergasped how somebots in the team didn't trust you yet. "They're the strongest Autobot in history! Let's keep them, pleeeease!"

Like I said already. He's such a golden retriever. He needs your attention, he needs you to teach him fighting etc.

Now you're his new mom too! You got two new sons! Yippee i guess?

When he sees you in action, he has star eyes. You know when he talks about it when optimus first uses the star saber? He talks like that but even more excited!

Ultra Magnus

Has high respect for you, but would hate how reckless you can be with wheeljack.

He would give you a lecture, but it falls through deaf audio receptors.

The moment he sees you in action he would doubt you less.

He knew that you used to exist, well now that you're actually alive he can't help but feel a little bit relieved that the autobots have the upperhand.

If you would call him Sir he would let you off easier.

Was surprised when he lost his hand that you supported him best you can. He didn't think that the queen/king of the battlefields could be so soft.

Denied it when you suggested that he's your adopted grumpy son, since he's always so worried about you. (He is your son now, but doesn't let the team know)

-------------------------------------------

AN: I HOPE YOU LIKED IT AND I APOLOGIZE THAT IT TOOK SO LONG. I HAD A CAMP AND NOW SCHOOL IS STARTING SO I WAS BUSY😭😭🫶

[juicywritinghoard]

a few more prompts

This crime is going almost too well?

Can you play with my hair? 

Of all the people to body swap with. Of all the days. 

This is no time for cute cat pictures and heart emojis!!!

And ANOTHER THING. Zombies-

Hey. Honestly? [deep breath] [SCREAMS]

Nothing like yard sale drama and intrigue! 

I did not see your text. Actually I can't read. It's very sad. Sudden onset adult illiteracy is very real-

Do not put it in your mouth! 

I know I got in trouble for buying them a very cool toy last time, but hear me out. 

Bite me. You gotta.

I am not eating this raw, actually. Nope.

How long did it take you to make that for me? NO I am not crying 

You drive me insane. Obviously I would go to hell for you 

What does this button do? I gotta know

Sword fighting is even more charged than I expected and I was not prepared 

I know you grew up in a wet cardboard box all alone but I cannot believe you have not experienced this. I think we have to, right now,  immediately 

We both showed up alone to the couples cake decorating class, so obviously-

Oops! Run

It hurts, but it rules

After a bad day, what we really need is some chocolate and violence.

Meow? Are you kidding me? 

Oh don't even get me STARTED on monsters- 

Pick your battles. As in let go of some of them please I swear you cannot fight it all

You know that object from the thrift store we thought was haunted? Haha so guess what,

Good chances we all die. Counterpoint, everyone who lives gets ice cream with sprinkles, so gear up!

I think I pretty explicitly said not to get it on the carpet.

So your mic wasn't off,

Please dress up with me? Please please please?

It isn't my blood. Don't get it twisted 

Can we kiss behind the mini golf windmill one more time? 

Magic is real, it just looks fake. 

Quick! Propose to me! Also, what's your name? 

We have to get you a new super costume.

You're enchanting. You're resplendent. You're a little bit on fire,

I gotta be honest. I have no idea what's going on and I think I waited too long to say so. Sorry?

Why do they have cat ears? They're supposed to be DEAD

I have normal feelings about this. And regular opinions. And I'm vibrating a reasonable amount.

Help, help, I'm not supposed to be in this universe!! 

I will help you ruin your hair, obviously, but you have to tell me what's going on. 

You wore that to the funeral?? 

Baking is science. Wizardry is science. You know what isn't science? 

Tired, angry, and covered in spaghetti sauce, and here I am at your door. But I can explain?

Bear. Seriously 

gonna destroy you and end your legacy forever xoxo <3

Nothing could possibly make me laugh right now. Don't you dare start doing silly voices at me. 

You know what this giant fancy crystal is good for? Blunt force head trauma 

I know it's super dangerous but when your eyes glow like that I can't focus on the battle at all…

Life finds a way?

Fighting? No, no, we're having a great time arguing about this. 

[onlyrains]

HERE YOU ARE, A HERO — SJY

♬—now playing: niki - anaheim

“no. don't say anything.” you step backward.

“why?”

“you know the answer, jake,”

he moved closer. “then say it to my face, y/n.”

“don’t make me start.”

“did we even start anything?”

“you know that's not what i meant,” you take a deep breath.

it's always like this. this kind of conversation isn't new to you and jake, actually. the thing between you two started two years ago, when you were in the worst state of mind and let him guide you through it. if only you could say it out loud, you would declare to the world that he is indeed your savior. the one and only sim jake. 

it was all fun and games with him until you noticed there's something tucked away and trying to interfere with everything you've had. and no, you can’t accept it. you don’t deserve it.

he confesses to you a couple times and always wear heart on his sleeve. it’s not like you don’t like him, but it does burden you the most. 

as it is today, the main topic of your argument was about the scholarship he got at his dream university. he always talked about it since it was the same uni his parents went to. he must continue the legacy, he said. it warms your heart hear him sharing his dream with his parents—sometimes, it does hurts too, but you know it just the grudge you've been holding for years.

but then, when you said you have no interest to take a master degree nor move in with him, he suddenly plans to decline it. he's going to ignore his dream just because you.

you laughed silently. like, how could you?

“i don’t understand, y/n. i truly don’t.”

you gulp a lump in your throat. “me either, jake.”

if you had a chance to change a thing in the world right now, it would be your feelings towards him. not about your broken family, not even about him that made you almost lose your mind. you would've chosen jake over everything, to love him the loudest.

“we can work it out, y/n, please. let me—”

“we can't.” you bowed your head down, unable to make a single eye contact with him anymore. it doesn’t usually like this. you used to be stoic about whatever you faced with him. you used to know how to divert the topic to a lighter one then run away from the real thing.

you swear with all of your life, you want to leave him behind and start a new chapter with jake like he always wanted. but you haven't had the work done. you have yet to learn to escape from his grip and let yourself live the way you want. 

“i’m sorry.” you muttered.

you feel his body heat approaching you slowly. his shoulder shielding you from the sunset lights, making your toes try harder to grip the sand underneath. 

you wish you could choose to die in this moment with him, with the orange hue illuminating half of his face, with the urge to kiss him goodbye.

“you're everything to me, jakey.”

“stop calling me that if it means nothing to you.”

“you mean the world.” he tilted your chin to look up at him.

“you always wanted to watch the sunset at this beach, didn't you?”

you nod twice. “yes.” with you. 

“i always try to grant your wishes, right?”

you nod.

“i always treat you right, don’t i?”

you nod.

“so when things started to go wrong? i'd do anything for you, y/n.”

“there. exactly right there. i remember you told me you'd do anything, you'd kill for me. that was when it all went wrong.”

he was startled. “are you kidding me?”

“jake, i’m not done with myself,”

“i can be a company like i always do. we can stay like this.”

you groan out of frustration. “you don’t understand.”

he brought his face closer. “i don’t, so tell me.” he whispered with chattering teeth. eyes glued on your lips.

your breath hitched when he brushed his lips on your chapped one. 

you let him. you surely, gladly, let him. in fact, he is the only person you allowed to cross your boundaries. 

his touch does move your body, but not necessarily with something within you. sometimes all you want to do is hit your head on the nearest wall for being such an ungrateful idiot, while it is not like something you could easily control too.

a few seconds passed, he finally captured your lips perfectly in his. he kissed you slow, cupped your cheeks and tried pouring out all his feelings into it. 

you return it with a steady tempo as your thumbs rubbed his neck lovingly. he really is your lifesaver, your everything. you couldn’t imagine these past year without him beside you. but it would be even more unimaginable if he stayed with you like this. wasting himself for a broken soul like you. 

you don’t know when you will heal. you don’t even know if this can be healed, or do you even want it to be healed? you don’t know. but it's clear, he deserves everything and you don’t deserve him.

the wound your father left, the hole that person made in you, are the two most uncertain things in your life and you wouldn’t let jake go through the same thing just because he’s with you.

so, if a goodbye kiss was a real thing, that is what you were trying to do. because all you have with him is basically an endless loop and one of you really needs to stop it and that person should be you.

after a moment of heaven, he pulls away breathlessly. you grip the hem of his shirt and glanced at the polaroid of him smiling you took previously. you may keep that one.

you stare into his sparkly eyes. if only he knew what's inside your mind, it would be so easy. so you decide to return to the main topic that was previously forgotten, “i'll think about moving,” —by lying.

he beams. “god, are you serious?”

“but don’t expect too much,” you smile bitterly. 

he shook his head. “no, thank you.” he said as he lifted you up and hugged you tightly.

you ruffled his hair. “you have to take it no matter what my decision is. don’t me mind me, puppy.”

“nonsense. i’ll always consider you in everything.”

well, he is definitely going to hate you. 

a/n: just thinking about something new and here it is… hope you like it… bc im not sure either…

[awriterinthenight]

"It's ok love", Part 2-Anthony Lockwood

requested: anonymous

words: 3255

warnings: reader's family being horrible, people judging her job and body and how she isn't married, slight misogyny, swearing. (I had a lot of fun writing some of the family dynamic and making up reader's story about her family and I have so much more of her back story to reveal and I'm so excited. Also all of my stories are usually female reader unless otherwise stated, or sometimes no gender is mentioned if I can, but I just prefer to write it like that) thanks for reading, enjoy. Please enjoy, my laptop decided to combust twice while writing this and this took me like 2 hours.

summary: Anthony and reader have arrived at reader's family's place. Anthony is gone for his job and reader is stuck with her family. He comes back to her crying in her room after her family dinner.

The train ride from hell finally ended with Anthony waking me up, telling me we'd arrived at our stop. I got up groggily, reaching to grab my bag, but Anthony stopped me.

"I've got it love," he said, grabbing mine and his bags, carrying them off of the train.

I couldn't help but smile at his act of service. I'd known him long enough to know there was no stopping him when it came to him helping people. He loved it. Doing acts of service for people was his love language, so I never stopped him when he did stuff like this for me.

Leaving the train, we called a cab, and I gave them the address to my parents place. I was nervous the whole ride. Mostly because of how Anthony would react to seeing how rich my family truly was. I know it sounds dumb to be embarrassed by being rich, but it was more of the fact that people would judge me for it and the fact I chose to be an agent. Everyone would always say how dumb I was for running away from such a lavish life, and how becoming an agent, potentially almost dying everyday, instead of staying safe in my family's house and wealth, was such a stupid idea. It was even worse when they would add that I only did it because I was 'rebellious' or 'just a kid' who didn't know what they were doing.

But it's the exact opposite. I'd rather be using my talent for something good than wasting it away. Why sit around doing nothing my whole life, when I can go out and help people. It felt like what they probably told Maria Anna Mozart, when they told her to stop making music, and that she had to marry someone and give up on her dream, or telling Van Gogh to just sit in his depression rather than work his way out through art.

Then again, I was only one agent amongst thousands, but I still believed I could potentially make a difference. Part of the reason people would say stuff like that to me was mostly because I was a girl. I was the oldest too, so I was expected to marry rich, find a good husband, and continue the family legacy. Not, run away at 15 and join an agency, where I could potentially die. Which is also a bad thing according to my family, since because I was the oldest I was their heir, or something like that.

I was so consumed in my self deprecating thoughts, that I didn't notice we had arrived until Anthony leaned over asking, "Is this really your family's house?" he asked, seemingly shocked by the estate and the rather vast size.

I let out a long sigh, "Yup, this is it," I confirmed, opening my door, leaving the car and walking towards the door.

"I knew you said your family was well off, but that seemed to have been an understatement," he said, breathing out a laugh at how big my family's place was.

Moving towards the front door, I take out my keys, unlocking the door, "Well my family had a decent amount of wealth on both sides, which then basically doubled when my grandparents married, then again when my mom and dad married. Then when the problem came around, they were some of the first people to create flares specialized for ghost hunting. Once that made a shit ton of profit, they then sold it making even more, so yeah my family is fucking loaded," I exclaimed, bitterly adding the last part as I unlocked the door.

"Seems like the next seven generations of your family are set for life," he joked, leaning against the wall.

I let out a small laugh, "Try more like ten maybe," I added, opening the door to the place, "And, this is only the east wing we're in. Wait till you see the entire main house."

His eyes went wide at my mention of this only being part of the place, "If this is only part of it, I can't even imagine the rest of the house," he said, in utter amazement of how my family lived.

I opened the door, letting us in as I turned on the lights, "Well, make yourself at home," I told him, walking toward the stairs in the front to head to the bedroom, "This part is actually quite small. Only two bedrooms, or actually more like one. I turned the other one into my own little space for random hobbies, so there's only one bedroom, but it'll be fine," I said, realizing we would be in the same room.

Climbing up the staircase in the entryway, we reached the 2nd floor, turning left towards the bedroom. The room was fairly big, there was a fireplace, a couple couches, a bay window, a desk covered in papers and pens I left, and the massive bed in the middle. Of course the room was painted my favorite color, and had some of the decorations I left. Alongside the posters on my wall that I didn't take down when I ran away.

I watched as Anthony took in the room, "This feels like a toned down version of you," he said, since my room at home was comprised of my favorite color walls that I begged Anthony to let me paint, more decorations than were in here which was saying something since my old room here was still somewhat fully decorated, posters on all the walls, and my room at home always had fresh flowers, since Anthony would buy them for me, even though I never asked him to.

"Well I couldn't take all my stuff when I left, so a lot of it stayed here," I told him, finally walking into the room, after just leaning against the doorway.

Anthony looked at me, then the floor, then me again, "If you don't mind me asking," he started, clearing his throat before continuing, "Why did you leave a place like this?"

I could feel myself partially freeze. I told him that I hadn't really told anyone else, but I never told him anything about why I left, or my family before I ran.

Taking in a deep breath I finally spoke, "I think that's a story for another time. Plus you have a job to get ready for," I told him, changing the subject.

He nodded, not pushing any further, "I should probably start heading out. I'll go call a cab," he said, moving closer to me before leaving, "Have fun, and don't worry about anything, okay," he told me, grabbing me by my waist, planting a soft kiss on my forehead. He rarely ever did this, only when he knew I was anxious or sad.

"Okay," I said, taking a calming breath in and out.

He then left, calling a cab, leaving when it arrived. I could hear the door close and that was when I knew I was alone for a little bit before my family showed up.

Usually before something big like this they liked to spend the day out. Letting the cooks and the rest of the staff prepare, undisturbed by my family's loudness. I took this time to unpack my clothes into the dresser, since I was gonna be here for a couple of days. Tonight was our families dinner, then tomorrow night was the actual party, and the day after would be when the immediate family stays and just congratulates my sister as we all prepare to make our departure for those leaving.

***

It had been about an hour since Anthony left when my family started to arrive. I could see through my window them entering the house, filling in one after the other. My sister getting married was a big deal to them, so everyone from my mom and dad's siblings, to their cousins, to my cousins, to great aunts twice removed, was here to celebrate.

I took a big sigh before heading down to the main house where everyone was. Making sure I looked good enough in my fairly new black dress, smoothing down my hair, and having to tone down my makeup since I was supposed to look like I wasn't wearing anything to create some illusion, or something. I don't actually know, I didn't pay attention when my mom was talking about that.

Opening the door basically alerted everyone of my presence. I entered the reception room where everyone was hanging around in, having a few drinks, and making the same small talk to the people they could and couldn't tolerate.

The first to notice me was my sister who came running at me, as if I had come back from the dead, "Oh I'm so glad you're here," she exclaimed, squeezing me so hard I think she forgot that I had to breathe.

"I'm happy to be here too, especially for you," I said, though she knew the first part was a lie, but definitely not the second part.

She finally pulled back, her eyes widening in happiness, "You have to meet my fiancé," she practically screamed, with a smile so big I'm surprised her face didn't hurt.

I smiled too, since her smile was always infectious, "I will soon, let me just make my way around the room before grandma writes me out the will for not greeting her the second I walk in," I joke, since I was probably actually already written out of multiple wills for running away.

"Okay, okay, I'll let you go, but you have too. Plus I think she'd rather give the dead hamster in the backyard more than us when she dies," my sister adds jokingly, referring to the hamster we had to bury when I was 7 and she was 5.

I take a deep breath, starting to move around the room. The second I see champagne, I quickly grab a glass to help encourage me to stay here and not just run out. Like I said, I started by greeting my grandma on my dad's side, who mentioned how I was 'too muscular' since I was an agent and being in top condition was basically a requirement if you don't like dying. My grandma on my mom's side was actually a lot nicer. Complimenting my hair, asking who my stylist was. She was never horrible, we just didn't talk much since her and my mom didn't get along well. My grandpa on my mom's side was nice too, admiring how I was an agent, and how I was in his words 'saving the world' which I thought was an overstatement.

Next came all the aunts and uncles. If I was lucky I could avoid the bad ones, or keep the small talk to a minimum, only spending time with the decent ones. On my dad's side I had three aunts and one uncle who were blood related. I caught up on some of my family's life from two of my aunts, and got more comments on how 'they could never possibly work such a vigorous job' and how 'I will one day realize how I made the wrong decision. I left those two quickly, heading to my favorite aunt who greeted me with open arms.

She filled me in on the actual family drama, who was mad at who, who divorced who, who was seeing who. She was an amazing aunt, and the only I truly remembered fully by name, the others I only really remembered when asked, or if they were at an event with me. But my aunt Kathy was amazing and always slipped me a couple of extra bucks, or nice shoes.

Soon I had to leave her and head towards more of my mom's side. My mom's side was...well...scary to say the least. They very much believed that I shouldn't be working, especially in a job like being an agent, so I knew I was in for some passive aggressive comments. My mom's side had three uncles, one of them being adopted, and two aunts who were like Madeline and Louise. They always gossiped, but not in a fun way like my aunt Kathy. More in a deceitful way, both of them were on their 4th divorce. I stopped keeping track at some point. Both talked about how my job was a crazy thing to do, and how they remember their teenage rebellious phase.

I left them before I got a headache, moving onto talking with my uncles. Besides that the two blood ones were a tad misogynistic, they were okay. They mostly talked about business, and how sales for equipment for agents was at an all time high, to which I just smiled and nodded, not really knowing what they were talking about.

The adopted one was my favorite uncle. While he wasn't blood related, he was the best in the family. He was always joking, and talked about how his sister was also an agent before losing her talent and becoming a secretary. We talked for a little bit till I spotted the person I was looking for.

My cousin Jade. I found her semi-hidden behind a plant, holding two glasses of champagne, mouthing the words to 'Maneater' as she hid her device that was playing the music she was listening to. I walked up behind her asking, "Are you listening to Maneater at a family party," which startled her.

"Christ, I thought you were one of the aunts coming to scold me," she said, relieved it wasn't one of our aunts, "And yes, it was. Its better than listening to stuffy small talk all night."

"You're not wrong," I said, agreeing with her statement, "Then again, drinking the fountain water is better than small talk." We continued our conversation for a while till we were all called for dinner.

The main dining room was big enough for both my mom and dad's side, plus their partners, and some of the older cousins from each side. The younger kids were sent to the other smaller dining room, where they were served their own stuff, and away from all the adult talk.

Dinner started off somewhat nicely. I stayed talking to Jade, who was next to me, my grandma from my dad's side on my other side, but she ignored me for the most part. Everything was going great, conversation was flowing, the food was nice, and everyone was giving my sister nice compliments and congratulations.

It was perfect, until it wasn't. My grandma who I was sitting next to had to pipe up and say, "You should take less food, no man would want someone built like you," while I was grabbing another piece of chicken.

Almost everyone either quieted down or went silent as her voice projected through the room. My uncle soon defended me, "There's no need to talk like that, let the girl eat." Sadly though that wasn't the end of that.

"Well, if we let her keep being like that then no man will marry her. Especially at this age, her sister is already getting married, and she doesn't even have a boyfriend," she said, meaning every word she said. I was only 20, my sister was 19. It was a one almost two year gap, yet she was still getting married young and before me. I chose my career over marriage, something I apparently wasn't supposed to do but did anyway.

Now others started talking. My two gossiping aunts said how, "Someone would probably marry me. I have to do something once my "talent" fades," putting talent in air quotes, as if my ability was nothing, or how, "Maybe he won't be rich like she was supposed to marry, but maybe she can trick some somewhat handsome guy."

"She's the one who's supposed to inherit their fortune?"

"I'd rather live in a swamp than look like her."

"At least I can get a boyfriend, and not have a job. She can't even get one and her job is just sad." My cousins said, insulting me like I wasn't there.

Everything felt surreal. I could feel Jade rubbing my arm trying to comfort me as she was talking to me, and on the other side of me was my grandma berating me for basically just existing. All the chatter around me of everyone pointing out my mistakes, and how I wasn't married felt overwhelming, making me want to cry.

What was worse though was how my parents didn't say anything. At least my sister tried to shush people and get them to stop. My parents did nothing though, maybe even added to the chatter.

I eventually got up, leaving the room. Tears stinging my eyes, the feeling almost as bad as the one my family made me feel. Jade tried grabbing my arm to get me to not leave, but she let me go, not following so i could have my space.

The second I walked into my part of the house and into my room, I could feel the tears pouring. I was leaning against my bed, trying to let everything process fully.

I didn't think I was that bad looking. I was usually complimented on my style or looks, even hit on once or twice, which I really didn't like, but still I thought I was still decent looking. My job wasn't the worst either. Especially at my age, most agents lost their talent by now, but I still had mine and it was working better than ever. Yet, no matter how much I tried to reassure myself, their comments still got to me.

I didn't even hear Anthony enter the house, or even my room. But the next thing I knew, he was right in front of me, holding me, asking what was wrong. I told him everything. I don't think I'd seen someone more shocked before.

He shook his head, looking me in my eyes, "Your family is wrong. You're gorgeous, don't listen to them," he said, trying to comfort me, "And, you're one of the best agents in the world, and I say that with full confidence. You're amazing, please don't listen to them darling." He held me for a little bit longer, continuing to comfort me.

Soon he got up, getting ready for bed, as I did the same. We got situated in bed for the night. There was only one bed, but we decided to be mature about it and just sleep in the same bed. It wouldn't be the worst thing in the world, and it's just for two nights.

We were originally somewhat far apart from each other, before I turned towards him, "Anthony," I said, my voice rather small.

He turned towards me, "Yes, darling," he said, his voice low and tired.

I took a breath before I asked, "Did you really mean what you said?" thinking that maybe he only said it to be nice.

"I meant every word, love," he told me, moving his hand to wrap around my waist pulling me close to him, "Why don't you get some sleep. Don't worry about it, I'll take care of it in the morning," he told me.

I didn't know what he meant, but I was tired from the day's events, and drifted off into sleep in his arms. He held me close the entire night, my head on his chest, with his arms wrapped around my waist.

Taglist (ask to be added)

@almost-gabrielle @scarlett-8 @archiveoftara

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere V + H: Shaiapouf

This ant is born to be a henchman in every universe

Though one would not be wrong when questioning how often he feels the need to direct the villain he’s serving’s attention

Always willing to give up any part of himself for his precious villain to succeed

Ride or die they’re glory is everything to him

But only if that glory includes him

He’s a tad selfish but for all the right reasons 

It’s for you of course

When you rise from the ashes of his former creator to take on the role of an innovator 

You’re all he can ask for 

No longer tied by his biological connection or maybe just an overcomplicated pheromone mishap

He devotes himself to the legacy you’ve restarted making his uncalled-for connections to his old villain

But it’s the differences he does notice that lead him to be…so involved:

“Shiapouf make a note. Clearly, the titanium-devastating robot taught them nothing about better infrastructure.”

“Yes, my liege!” 

He admired your back which was beautifully annunciated by the elegant cape on your back. Pouf proudly squeezed at the bandaged tips of his fingers as he recalled personally sewing the insignia of your villain name onto its center. 

Turning before you he opened the door of the invisible jet for you, bowing as you entered the back seat. Closing the door he sent one more hidden glare at the construction crew working in the rubble of the old sky-scraper. In his deepest of hearts, he almost wished they wouldn’t try, shaking his head in punishment. You wanted this, therefore this was right. Entering through the door, he harshly yelled at the door of the cockpit,” Go.”

That was all that was needed for the jet to silently left the city, cruising above national waters in seconds. Pouf had located himself directly across from you watching in admiration and amusement as you twisted and tilted your face as you scrolled through articles on your digital pad. 

“Once again this proves to be ineffectual in making them evolve. This wasn’t a big enough sign for them to even consider using that material they discovered that could be made with the remains of that overgrowing landfill. “

Pouf resisted the urge to clutch his cheeks,” My liege, you’re so generous to these low-lifes.”

You let out a muted ‘thanks’ before closing your eyes in thought. Millions of images from various politicians and inventors calling for reform or change. None of them are worthy enough or even supported enough to be considered significant change. It started to make you wonder…

“Perhaps…this isn’t the right thing to do.”

Pouf’s smile was gone. A serious expression on his face as he asked, ”What do you mean your Grace?”

Sighing you looked out the window,” My whole goal is to help the humans of this world evolve but I worry all I’m doing is just killing the masses for no reason.”

If the cabin of the jet wasn’t cool, it was freezing because of Pouf’s glare.

“Who says this?”

“What do you mean I am—”

“Who said this.”

The question that didn’t need to be said brought a familiar pit in your stomach. Fidgeting with your fingerless gloves and then your raised collar that felt like it was making you hot. Pouf’s darkened tuscan-yellow eyes were filled with the retained fury of a protector. One that you found much more frightening than the hero you escaped from every time.

“A journalist from the Hunter’s Post. She just made some really good–”

“Name?”

“Pouf I don’t want to punish anyone–”

“Name, (Y/n).”

“Ponzu….her name was Ponzu.”

“Thank you (Y/n)--”

“Please Pouf I don’t want anything—”

Pouf smiled widely, “I think you should rest, my Liege!”  

You opened your mouth to protest, actually getting up from the seat you were in to plead. Finding you’re body refused to listen as you finally registered the shimmering colors and grand wideness of Shaiapouf’s wings. You didn’t need to see the sparkling particles to know what was happening, vaguely recalling this same scene playing out just a few days ago.

“Sleep peacefully, my (Y/n). I’ll deal with the parasite that’s poisoned you.”

Pouf smiled at your slumped figure before snapping his fingers. His joyful expression is gone now that three winged servants appeared at his side. All three bowing and awaiting his orders.

“Find the journalist Ponzu. Bring her to me alive, I will deal with her punishment personally.”

Two of the servants darted off, quickly flying out of a hatch that allowed them to leave without letting too much of the wind inside. The remaining servant stood still awaiting orders.

“Idiot. Get our Great One a blanket, can’t you see they’re needing one.”

The servant bowed their head swiftly heading to the back of the jet. Giving Pouf the privacy he desired to stand from his own seat and kneel before yours. Looking up at your sleeping face, he couldn’t deny himself the urge to caress your sleeping face.

“Don’t worry. I will always fight for your glorious mission. Even if you forget.”

[maxislvt]

Could I request a dark fic where Vampire!Wanda and Mortal!Reader fall in love, and after getting married, Wanda offers to turn Reader into a vampire but Reader says no. However, years go by and Reader is on their deathbed, about to succumb to old age, when Wanda decides she must turn Reader whether they like it or not.

Thank you!

p.s. i am a simp for Vampire Mommy Wanda

warnings: angst, mention of terminal illness, arguin

I didn't realize the old age part so this is just kinda sadder than need be

Death was the price that came with loving a mortal.

As a vampire, Wanda was cursed to live forever. An eternity filled with nothing but quick flings that would amount to nothing in the end. It was a rather sad love life, but Wanda had convinced herself she was okay with it. With a legacy to keep secret and company to run — her schedule was pretty tight. A relationship would just add more stress. That's what she told herself. Then you came along and ruined a near two hundred year streak of being single.

You were everything Wanda wanted in a lover. Someone gentle and kind to cut down the bitterness she'd collected over the years. It didn't take long for her to realize how much she needed you. Wanda clung to you for dear life. The mere thought of you leaving her sent her into a spiral. You were always quick to put out her fears. You never even considered leaving Wanda. She gave you her everything — you had no reason to.

Wanda wasn't entirely sure what she'd done to make you change your mind.

"You said—" Wanda took a deep breath. She'd never been so upset with you before. "You said you'd never leave me! We were supposed to be together forever." You always had a way of making Wanda feel things that had laid dormant for years. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been this upset. Her cheeks burned with hot tears. After everything she had done for you, you were still so comfortable just leaving her? It wasn't fair. "I won't be able to love anyone else."

You flinch at the harsh reality in Wanda's words. "I'm not leaving you. It's just my time to go." You had come to terms with the fact you'd die months ago. The doctors handed you a diagnosis and said you only had so long. Fighting it was futile. You didn't expect Wanda to be okay with it. Finding love after decades of loneliness only to have it ripped away was a pain beyond your imagination. But you only had about two weeks left and you didn't want that dread hanging over your head the entire time. "Just love me as much as you can, while you still can." You spoke as softly as you could. "Come here, I want to cuddle."

Wanda took a deep breath before laying down next to you. Fear still ran hot through her vines. It was making her irrational. "I could do it forever if you'd just let me-"

"I don't want to be turned into a vampire. You have to respect that. "

"I don't want to be alone forever, can't you respect that?"

You sighed and rubbed your temples. "Wanda, you're being selfish. Think about all the people I care about and would have to watch die. I can't do that." Your arms wrapped around Wanda's body and pulled her close. "I don't really want to talk about this anymore. Let's just call it a night. Please?"

Wanda pulled away and looked down at you. She could see life fading from your body. You were paler and the bags under your eyes were getting darker. Even the light in your eyes was starting to fade. It was like looking at a doomsday clock meant specifically just for you. Wanda would do anything to keep that clock from sticking 12. She wasn't going to let you die. Your approval was going to have to take the backseat for her to do that. "Okay, I won't bring it up anymore." She placed a gentle kiss on your lips before laying back down and holding you close.

She wasn't foolish enough to do it while you were awake. Once Wanda was sure you'd fallen asleep, her fangs buried themselves into your lower back. Sickness had tainted the taste of your blood forever ago. The sugary sweetness had now faded into something bitter and medicinal. She sucked until she had taken just enough to turn you. Her tongue licked at the wound so it'd be healed by the morning.

You'd hate her for it. Maybe you'd argue again or run off screaming with the hopes of finding a cure. You would come back eventually. Eventually, Wanda would be the only one you'd have left to run to. It appeared you had figured that out faster than Wanda expected.

Wanda expected nothing less from someone as smart as you.

"Wanda," You whispered from the bathroom. Despite calling for her, you didn't even spare your partner a glance. Your eyes focused on the cut quickly healing on your finger. You wipe away the blood slowly. Focusing on the task to avoid blowing up at the woman standing in the door frame. A heavy sigh fell from your lips as you turned to face her. "Why'd you do it?" The look in your eyes was cold and almost uncaring.

That wasn't the first time you looked at her like that. It certainly wouldn't be the last now that you two had an eternity together.

"I did what I thought was best." Wanda stretched out her arms. "I know it's going to be scary at first, but I'm going to be here with you every step of the-"

You quickly pushed past Wanda. You grabbed a bag and began stuffing your clothes in it. "I can't be around you right now." Every word Wanda said fell on deaf ears as you continued packing. There was nothing she could say that would make you feel better. Just as you tried to zip up the bag, Wanda tried to snatch away. "Wanda, I don't want to hear it!" You shouted before snatching the bag away from her. It felt good to be strong enough to stand up for yourself. You turned and walked away.

"Stop walking away from me and listen!"

Your body stopped dead in its tracks. How could you have forgotten? Turned vampires were nothing to someone from a bloodline as powerful as Wanda's. That was just another way you'd be inferior to her.

Wanda turned your body so you were forced to look at her. "I did what I had to do to keep us happy. I will not sit here and let you make me a villain for putting you first!" She could see the anger burning bright behind your eyes "I gave you my whole heart and I'm not going to let you run off and break it!" It didn't feel right yelling at you. It wasn't your fault you were born a mortal or her a vampire. But something had to be done in order for you two to stay together. Wanda needed reassurance but all you were showing her was animosity. "Say something damn it! I need you!"

For a moment you just stared at Wanda. Fighting the urge to obey her wasn't easy, but you weren't going to let her win.

"I hate you more than anything right now."