#whisky lover

[infokizansh]

Most loving brand of Kizansh Group – BLACK 52  

Kizansh Group is one of India's finest manufacturing units, producing spirits in different types and flavors. They track the strategy of IMFL including Foreign Liquor and Indian Malt. 

We are already serving UTTAR PRADESH, PUNJAB, LUCKNOW, and DELHI. Now, we are in Goa with our required whisky and Premium label. 

They are some selected cities where the Kizansh set up their plants and also looking to set up their plants in different locations. 

 Kizansh products are mostly in demand in Africa, Nigeria, South Africa, and other Union Territories. We also serve our product and the manufacturing process in another country. 

The products are favorably in need like Premium labels' TABLE RESERVE, AROMA, BERLIN FERGHANA, AND CLASSIC WHISKY. 

These are created from some Indian Grains and natural ingredients like wheat, rare, barley, and others. It provides you with an international flavor by the Indian process, with a smooth combination & of blended Scotch. 

Now, the specialty of the product is available in an International Malt with Indian grain. Which is also available in Classic and Premium Brand within seven years of manufacturing production. we are serving more than 20 lakhs of products All over India and other countries. 

In 2023, production will increase from 35 million liters to 56 million liters of alcohol annually. 

In Goa, we started the production of BLACK-52 CLASSIC WHISKY. And as soon as possible we are also starting the production of other Premium brands. Kizansh Group focused on the Liquor lover to provide them with An International taste of Indian whisky. 

Kizansh is mostly concentrated on their client to deliver the excellent or best liquor to different tastes. They deliver more than 15 million of liquor till now. 

[therealbeardedgent]

[ineffablydelighted]

[Cute Omens #5]

[FYI: Aziraphale can be jealous too, he's just more subtle about it. Well, "subtle"... ]

Aziraphale: *gets out of the Bookshop to take his morning coffee even though he does not sleep*

[Noises of an old, noisy heavy-duty motorcycle happening]

Aziraphale: *looks at the Sky and starts praying**to himself* Please, do not be him...

Frankster: *stops his motorcycle abruptly next to Aziraphale* Az Fell! Oy! How are you doing, my mate?

[How to even describe Frankster who does not exist in the GO universe at all? Well, people have called him that since he was a teenager because he loves pranks and his name is Frank (I KNOW, what a shock?!), he's fifty-something, he's always riding his dear motorcycle he calls Bow (as an hommage to David Bowie, of course), pretty handsome, very tall, gay AF black man who always wears the brightest indigo blue leather jacket you've ever seen. Can make any guy his bro until... some drinks happen. To summarize.]

Aziraphale: *closes his eyes in disappointed**discreetly sighs before turning to him* Ummm, hi, Frank! I'm doing pretty well, thank you, how... how about you?

Frankster: *swiftly gets out of Bow**grunts for show* Heartbroken, but, y'know... life happens. So. Now is the time to shoot my shot... Have you seen dear old Anthony, recently?

Aziraphale: *turning red**reminds himself that Crowley is inside the Bookshop as they speak* Huh... I am... not... sure...?

Frankster: Come on! You, of all people, surely have an idea where I can find him!

Aziraphale: I-I...

Frankster: Don't be like that, mate! I have a bottle of the Talisker Expedition Oak. The 43-year-old one. We've sworn to each other we would drink it together if one of us ever laid a hand on this beauty! Time for me to invite him over and claim my prize.

Aziraphale: Your... prize...?

Frankster: *open laughter* Az, come on, those delicate ears of yours are not suited to hear whatever unholy thoughts I have kept in my mind for the past six years, so don't make me!

Aziraphale: Y-you... you mean that- I mean that- *gathers his thoughts* Is Crowley... aware of your... *clears his throat* intentions?

Frankster: *reassuring* Mahhh, He has to be! You know me, I'm not the subtle type, Angel! *aims for Aziraphale's hair to scrub them*

Aziraphale: *dodges skillfully in the-man-has-tried-to-do-that-for-years-and-occasionally-succeeded*[well, "skillfully", hum... he actually tripped in the process, but...] *also holds himself from sighing as he hates whenever Frank calls him that* D-Don't! *rearranges his clothes* do that, Frank, please! *unconsciously taps his feet onto the ground like a 5yo*

Frankster: *laughs* Too bad I'm more into the thin dark duke ones instead of the fluffy beige librarians, right, Az?

Aziraphale: *barely understands even though he knows every language there is, as or ever been**confused noise and eye contact*

Frankster: *super amused by his mannerisms, as always**leans in*

Aziraphale: *recoils a bit*

Frankster: *takes him by the arm to draw him closer*

Aziraphale: *uncomfortable AF**cannot yell for help because he knows that Crowley will appear out of nowhere in 0.1 millisecond**gasps instead* F-Frank!

Frankster: *whispers while releasing him* Az, you're not on my menu tonight... Anthony is. Are you sure you have no idea where I can find our favorite Gothic king?

Aziraphale: *cannot possibly restore the truth now**has started to worry Crowley might get outside because he is taking too long to come back compared to the last few days**embarassed laugh* I... have NO idea where Crowley is right now. *not-so-angelic-but-angelic-enough-for-most-humans face*

Frankster: *sighs* Bugger. Is he planning on visiting you any time soon? He talks about you a lot, you know? For a while, I really, really thought you were a twosome, haha! *taps Aziraphale's shoulder a bit too strongly*

Aziraphale: *unsteady**also startled**and blushy* Ahhh... you... you did?

Frankster: Yep, you two could have fooled the gayest man on Earth... Oh wait, that's me! *loudest laughter*

Aziraphale: *so stressed Crowley might have recognized that laugh**considers to present Gabriel to Frank for a second**wonders why would he ever do something like that?**confused ethereal entity**odd-yet-always-cute angelic smile*

Frankster: Az, can we be honest for a second?

Aziraphale: *raises an eyebrow**offended* Of course, we can! *has not been honest for the past five minutes or so but it is not as if someone was keeping scores up there, don't they?*

Frankster: You would save me a lot of trouble if you just told me you have a crush on him... *shows his super-expensive white teeth* Me, of all people would get it! Anthony might be the sexiest man alive besides us two, so that would only be fair.

Aziraphale: *taken by surprise**hiccups* Oh, oh... Um... Ahhh... *randomly balances his arms* I-I mean... Of... Of course not! *smiles in absolutely-not-suspicious*

Frankster: *tilts his head**smirks* Come onnnnn, Az, you can tell me! *leans closer**hands on both Aziraphale's shoulders* This will stay between us, I promise!

Aziraphale: *removes himself from the situation by running away a little* N-no! It is not like that! W-we are not like that, I swear!

Frankster: *stares in super doubtful**keeps the brightest smile* Az, my mate, you really should clear out those feelings of yours... *tilts his head again and adds some winking to it* before I get the man first, you know? Friendly competition, Angel, what do you say?

Aziraphale: *frowns for a second**does not realize*

Frankster: *eyes widen**playful* Wow, maybe you do not plan on playing it fair after all! Ahhhh... Always look out for the innocent ones, right? They are the real Dark Horses!

Aziraphale: I-I... I really don't- I really don't know what you mean, Frank! Really!

Frankster: Really? Really really? *laughs hysterically* Ahhhh, ANGEL, you are ADORABLE! So adorable that I don't have the heart to break yours! Wait a second... *opens Bow's rainbow truck**takes the bottle**considers to throw it at Aziraphale**remembers how clumsy he can be**crushes Aziraphale's bust with it instead*

Aziraphale: *out of breath*

Frankster: Let me have the honor of being the most generous Cupid this planet has ever encountered.

Aziraphale: Oh, n-n-n-no, I-I... I can't possibly accept th-

Frankster: Please. This is not for free, Angel! I do have a condition...

Aziraphale: *scared again* What... is it?

Frankster: *winks* I want the third sexiest man alive to spend the night with me, of course.

Aziraphale: *does. not. compute*

Frankster: *leans closer, actually close to Aziraphale's neck and ear**whispers more seductively* That means you, silly.

Aziraphale: *startles so much he actually jumps* AhhhAHH I...

Frankster: *laughs hysterically. Again.**wants to tap Aziraphale's back but reminds himself about the bottle right before the impact**gives him a softer, more serious smile* Easy, Az, I was messing with you! My only condition is to be invited to your wedding. No, actually, I want to officiate it. I still have my license I got online in the early 2000s, remember? I'd be happy to tell a large audience how I made you happen! In the meantime... *sits back on Bow* Take care of that dirty punk for me - and of the bottle. *starts the engine* SEE YOU AROUND, MISTER FELL, SAY HELLO TO ANTHONY FOR MEEEE!

Aziraphale: *waves from afar**still unsure what just happened**wants to scratch his neck**almost makes the bottle fall to the ground in the process**heart stops**hugs the bottle to make sure it does not happen twice*

[The Bookshop door opens abruptly]

Crowley: *looks at Aziraphale incredulously* Is it me or did I just hear Frankster's laughter? *looks at what Aziraphale has in his arms**eyes widens behind his glasses**runs in Christmassy* OH MY G- Screw it. OH MY GOD, IS THAT-

Aziraphale: *shyly* I-I think it is?

Crowley: *takes the bottle from Aziraphale without almost any care* [I say "almost" because this is still Aziraphale we're talking about, any other being would have been murdered in the process] THAT DIRTY BITCH! HE FOUND ONE! *looks around them, more and more confused* Wait. Has he left already?

Aziraphale: *hides his guilt behind his cute face* Ahhh, y-yes! *attempts to smile normally* He hummmm... He was in a rush and just came by to drop this, I have no idea why! *Quirinus Quirrell's laugh* [Admit it, you're getting used to it! This is my trademark, now, I guess 😂]

Crowley: *suspicious gaze**eventually shrugs his shoulders**looks at Aziraphale with pure joy* I know this is not your thing but you NEED to taste that beauty when I'll pop that cork of hers, Angel.

Aziraphale: Of... Of course! *smiles with a little more ease*

Crowley: *brightest smile**kinda giggles?**rushes back to the Bookshop in case the elements might attack the super rare Talisker bottle*

***

Navigation time!

[While needing you to consider that, most of the time, the scenes are randomized and do not necessarily follow one another at all]

Previous -Beginning - Next

[nebuleuse-cosmic]

𝑅𝑒𝑑𝑎𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑦

[crepuscularpete]

[peraseorelhas]

Um copo de uísque

Lembrei de nossa ultima viagem em 2016 Lisboa estava na época em que fazia frio Nós dois, nos últimos assentos da classe económica pedindo drinks Um copo de uísque com gelo você pediu, eu fiz apenas uma piada sobre É aquele momento em que as lembranças são tristes e felizes, e, nada muda Mas se pudesse voltar eu queria ficar bêbado com você novamente Me sinto só ultimamente Então penso que um copo caubói me faria bem Eu teria mais uma boa memória entorpecida   Em que dançamos e nos apaixonamos numa balada em São Paulo Apenas vamos nos apaixonar Dançar pelas ruas da cidade Viver de forma em que transformamos todos os nossos sentimentos Porque ainda não atingimos nosso objetivo, e, temos que dizer adeus ao resto Sentimentalismo Mas se pudesse voltar no tempo, eu gostaria de ficar bêbado com você novamente

[wonderlesch]

A Year of Whiskey 2024

Cheers to the golden hues of whiskey! A Year of Whiskey 2024 shares travel destinations for you to be able to taste your way through 2024. Slainte! #wednesdaywonders #traveldestinationguide #ayearofwhiskey2024 #newblogpostalert #wonderlesch

Hello and welcome to my latest Travel Destination Guide A Year of Whiskey 2024. This blog post shares Whiskey Tasting Events happening January through December. Start planning your year of whiskey and begin exploring Detroit Bourbon Fest in April, Belfast Whiskey Week in July, WhiskyFest Las Vegas in December and so many more. Let’s travel whiskey tasting! Scottish National Whisky Festival –…

[ecproofsg]

Choose The Best Brand Tequila Collection Online In Singapore

If you want a tequila selection online with free home delivery. The best brand of Tequila and other premium alcoholic beverages are available here at EC Proof online liquor store. Visit right away to purchase any alcohol products.

[monstersflashlight]

Would love a Story about a pleasureslime that would function as a toy, like it can move itself form itself, etc and you can buy more and fuse them, but then it gets out of control and you become the toy. Non gendered person x slime

Hi darling! I'm so sorry this took so much to answer. But here it is. Hope it was worth the wait.

Tw: heavy dub-con

When the pleasure slime was released into the market you were one of the first ones to get it. You were beyond excited to get your hands on one. And it was great. You never thought so

mething as malleable as slime could give you such amount of pleasure. It was insane in a way that made your brain fuzzy and your hole clench around it. It was the best experience of your life.

So you became addicted.

Addicted to the point where you couldn't help getting a new one. And a new one. And a new one. You stacked them over and over, it was one of the perks of the product. You could get as many as you want and stack them to create a bigger one, one with more functions. One... better. And good lord was it better... It was phenomenal.

It was the experience of a lifetime and you couldn't hold yourself together as you came over it, covered in it. The slime was smooth and prelubed so it was just... perfect. It sucked and probed and poked. You were beyond yourself with it. So much that you got late to work at least three times because you got wrapped up in it to the point of losing sense of reality. It was THAT good.

So you got a new one.

At that point in time the slime was almost as big as you. But that only made it better. It was the best lover you ever had, so pliant and excitable under you, over you, inside of you. It reached parts of you that were unexplored before. It reached every erogenous zone at once and it drove you crazy with pleasure.

So you got more.

It became bigger than you, stronger in a way, but it was so soft. The idea that it could literally consume you drove you into a frenezy of pleasure. But then things turned weird.

At first it was just tiny things, reaching around you without any control, touching you in places you didn't have control over... You didn't mind it that much. Until one day you woke up with the pleasure slime holding you down and fucking into every hole in your body. Your moth gagged, your hole clenching around its girth. It was scary but so, so pleasurable your eyes were rolling into your head.

It fucked you until you were sore. And then some more. Your body held in its mass as you squirmed with what felt like the thousand orgasms in a row. It fucked your throat, your needy hole... And at the same time it worked every single pleasure point in your body. It was maddening, your brain almost to the point of breaking. You didn't know what time it was, where you were or what you were anymore.

You became the sex toy of your sex toy... and you didn't mind it.

Reminder that you can commission me (info here) or suscribe to my Patreon (info here). And that my second account is @whiskis

[infokizansh]

TABLE RESERVE IS A PREMIUM & SPECIAL QUALITY OF THE KIZANSH. 

Table Reserve is the top demanding and selling brand of the Kizansh Group. This represents their most expensive and loving brand of whisky in their premium segments of foreign spirits. Kizansh is famous for being the best whisky-manufacturing company in India, with foreign and IMFL whisky brands. 

Which supplies the spirits in Scottish and Irish malt whisky, in the mixture of the malts and other barley grains of India. For their production, the whisky usually uses some wheat, grains, and others for whisky fermentation in the master blend process. 

They use foreign-based and IMFL brands for the liquor for production in the premium level brands. They are presently two segments of liquor Premium and Classic spirits in the methods of the traditional and standard process of whisky produces in many years in India. 

Because, in Indian most of the production use grains, natural grains, corn, and others grain for making spirits. We are started supplying us in Pan India with our Product in different bottles and packaging. It covers a valuable market of more than a billion turnover from 2023 to 2028. We expect to exhibit a market CAGR of 8.1 % during the upcoming years. Table Reserve is the most selling and demanding spirit in the UTTAR PRADESH, GOA, PUNJAB, AND Other states of India. 

Kizansh is starting their new unit in Jharkhand with the production of the whisky as well also, they provide a whisky segment in different flavors with malt. In the finest products with one of the Uttar Pradesh-based manufacturing companies. They are famous for the best combination of grains and foreign liquor. 

Enjoy a fine blend of "ELEGANT & SMOOTHNESS"  

Kizansh Group is situated in other different states in India as per their demand or selling. We set up the production house of our company with the whole liquor manufacturing production. 

Now they are increasing their production in different locations of the states for the production and started supplying the nearby Units of their demand product to connect with the consumer and their local market. 

They are providing the IMFL top brands with foreign liquors with the help of Indian single melt

[therealbeardedgent]

Smooth.

[yandere-wishes]

Alice in Marvel-land

𐙚Yandere! Deadpool (Wade Wilson) x Reader x Yandere Wolverine (Logan Howlett)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ In some worlds, you were Logan's little darling. In others, you were Wade's starry-eyed lover. But here in the void, there is only one of you and two of them.

⁀➷ GORE, yandere behavior, kidnapping, Deadpool being Deadpool.

⁺₊𝄞₊⁺ IDK, probs the Deadpool and Wolverine soundtrack

Logan feels the world slipping away.

Piece by piece, atom by atom.

In a blink, he's falling down darkness.

An endless rabbit hole.

What was the name of that fairy tale you liked so much?

The one with the girl who gets lost in splendor?

The dust is kicking up, framing the sunset portrait along the horizon.

The envoys are nearly home, this time they've brought someone back. The cage balls chime along the unsteady road. If you squint just far enough you can almost make out vibrant specks of red and yellow.

Strange, the void tends to wash out bright colors. Well, it tends to wash out just about everything.

You scrape your nails along the skeleton's sockets. Leave crescents in the decaying cartilage. "They're almost here" you call out awaiting Cassandra's next move. You watch dolefully as she's transfixed on a portal. The sparky thing unfurled like a fresh wound, strewing salt on persistent lacerations. She watches her brother, or well some variation of her brother. Surrounded by his new family, surrounded by those he loves. He's forgotten her, or maybe never even knew her. You think that the latter would hurt the most.

"Cassandra" Your voice rises in octave, this time getting her attention. "They're here".

"Coming" She sings, voice so chip it almost sounds like unshed tears. You send a final glare at the portal before it collapses on itself.

If you tried hard enough, maybe you could bring yourself to understand her pain. Those pesky notions of desperation for someone to love. But it

doesn't matter now everyone you've ever loved is dead anyway. And unlike Cassandra, you've long since given up on the childish dreams of being rescued by someone who would offer up love so freely.

"Maybe shut up now"

Logan's nerves are frying. Thin strings snapping with every syllable that leaves the red merc's mouth. He's starting to appreciate Stryker in a way he didn't even know he could. The man was a psychotic sadist but at least he knew when to sew someone's mouth shut. Maybe he can convince this Cassadra chick to do the same.

Logan's eyes are almost at 90 degrees of a roll when they stop. He stops, frozen. In the gaping mouth of the rotting skull, something all too familiar stands.

Or rather someone.

Someone he knew.

Someone he loved.

Your name tastes bitter on his tongue. All death and whisky.

Maybe cause it's been so long since the attack. Since he walked off for the night and left his family to die. Cause the last time he saw you, you were a mangled corpse laying in an open grave. Deadweight as he cradled you in his arms.

You walk closer. Face painted in too many shades of confusion.

Curiouser and curiouser.

Damn, he's started quoting that stupid book again.

"How do you know my name" You ask. You look just as beautiful as he remembers. Spine carved straight in pride with perfect lips, perfect eyes. His talons itch to glide across your soft skin, to feel you so intimately once more.

"LOOOGAN did you see what the bald chick just- HEY!!"

It takes too much effort to pull his gaze away. To stare at red and black and be reminded of cruel realities. But Wade has a tendency to be a persistent ache, some unwelcomed anchor to every problem he's ever had.

Only this time when he actually looks at him. Looks at the jittery body that's stilled abruptly. He can't help but be glad that he did. A bitter laugh bubbles in his throat. Maybe Wade's shut up for good this time.

He always knew you were special but this is truly a miracle.

"IT'S YOU!!"

Nope, didn't work. He knew he couldn't be that lucky.

Wade whispers your name, a forgotten prayer. Logan didn't even know the loudmouth knew how to pray. But he seems to almost soften when he sees you. That feral, cheeky killer, looks so so soft when he stares into your doe-eyes. Reaching out zealously to twirl a lock of your hair around his blood-soaked finger.

He can almost feel Wade choking on your essence, heart erratic, like a child finding a lost toy. He's drowning in ecstasy, and Logan is almost tempted to join him. You're here, a breath away. So close it's taking every ounce of self-control not to pull you to his chest and keep you locked between his arms until he finally dies too.

"Penunt look that's my girl!!"

"Your girl!?"

He had taken you for granted as he tends to do with most peaceful things. The realization had occurred a little too late. Right as he had been emptying a round into the target of the week's head.

He lands.

Arms high like an Olympian pleasing the crowd.

He wonders if he can make you cheer for him.

Clap and shout his name as he twirls around the mess he's made.

He wants to feel loved, although he'll never say it out loud. He's only ever been good with words when they're laced with sarcasm and profanity.

And maybe 'I love you' is just about the most obscene thing he can ever say to someone as sweet as you.

Wade plays the white rabbit, fluffy coat stained red from every kill. Tricking poor Alice into following him down cruel rabbit holes. Making you chase him through labyrinths then leaving you at every turn. He leads you to every kill, makes you watch as he dances in slaughter. He can even feel your eyes right now. Starlight slicing him open to quench vulgar interests.  

Alice always follows the rabbit.

He stalks closer, white eyes fixated on your deliciously bewildered expression. Precious thing caught in a warzone. He can almost taste you on his tongue, the sharp tip of a star slivering the inside of his mouth, soft hands painting crescent moons along the back of his neck. He needs to carve his essence across your lips, to pour the after-kill adrenaline into your soul. He needs you.

Only this time...

This time he'd been too distracted. So caught up in claiming you as his victory prize that he didn't notice the grizzled man clinging to life...

And a pistole.

The bullet punctures his shoulder. An afterthought.

But the lead keeps going.

Penetrating the air until it lands bunglingly between your eyes.

You fall into his arms.

Deadweight.

Did the white rabbit ever miss Alice?

Did he ever realize how truly special such a curious girl made him feel?

He doubts it.

Doubts that a stupid rodent would have better emotional stability than him.

He's been given a second chance. A whole plethora of them actually. He's been deemed holy, righteous. And aren't gifts of marvel bestowed upon the truly blessed? What better blessing than the sight of you standing amongst the sand and skulls?

Good to see your affinity for dainty dresses spans across all universes...

He lets the blood trickle down his claws.

What else is there to do but dream of you?

It's the fourth day of his massacre and he's lost count of how many humans he's killed. Maybe cause after the first hundred the faces tend to blur.

He leaves your pleasants in between the rotting carcasses and broken glass. Only taking the torturous parts of you. The things that can hurt him. The sharp edges that he can slit his pulse point on, the vague memory of your glare before you cried. The soft skin of your neck between his jagged teeth.

Enough to keep the hate burning.

He wonders if the creatures of Wonderland wept after Alice left. He wonders if Wonderland lost its wonder.

But now you're standing here.

Alive.

And he wants so badly to remember the sweet taste of your lips. The soft push against his chapped lips as he swallows you whole. Even desperate rabbits can go a little feral. His eyes take in every breath, every scowl.

Alive.

Alive.

Alive.

Good to see your affinity for dainty dresses spans across all universes...

Aliath skids forward, mystified in lightning and smoke. You feel your bones collapsing under the rugged man's, Logan's, vice grip. You thrash and scream trying to break free but he only barks out orders to his friend before they take off running.

"Your safe, don't worry we got you." There's a comedic cadence to every word Wade says. You can almost fool yourself into enjoying it if the two weren't actively attempting to defy Cassandra, to defy Aliath, to defy deities and absolutes. To ripe you away from the only semblance of opulence you've come to know.

"Let me go, you custome-wearing freaks." His gripe tenses. "Don't struggle so much, we said you're safe, now hold still" Logan's anger ripples through you. It's almost muscle memory to still, to obey.

Did you know him? Know them?

In some past life too out of reach?

The ground shutters to a jagged rhythm. You're flying up, escaping the misty horrors of the ground. Your head pounds with the force, air slapping across your body as you taste the cotton of the clouds between your teeth.

Is this how Alice felt as her head hit the roof?

Wade mutters about the stars and educated wishes. About people who live and matter. Logan slices through his thigh, the mercenary's optimism making his body ring with phantom pains.

No one matters.

And when they start to, they die.

There are cruel absolutes in this world. He's tasted them all. Let them slice his tongue and heart and danced to every tune they've sung. He rips his claws out and digs them into Wade's chest.

Again

And again.  

Wade savors the salty tang of blood inside his mouth.

Licks his teeth and runs his tongue over the gaping holes.

He's sitting in the front seat head rolled back.

High off the blood and adrenaline and the thought of having you so close.

"I take it all back, the Honda odysseys fucks hard"

Bones crack, interrupted mid-heal as Logan turns his head to glare. "Shut up" he rasps and Wade almost, almost, hears approval.

There's a low moan reverberating across the broken car. Late night sleepy mumble that's half 'I love you' and half 'I need you'. Neither one has heard it in such a long time.

"Finally awake sleeping beauty? Kinda surprised you could sleep through all of that" Wade shimmies to the back, only to be greeted by your foot smashing into his face, cracking his nose open, and sending a fresh wave of blood into his mouth. He pins your knee to the seat and wiggles himself between you. caging you with his elbows as he stares down at your pretty face. "Miss me, angel baby?"

"Wrong fairy tale" Logan turns around in his seat, claws out running them across your cheek "Please stop, just let me go" you've never begged before, never fallen so low. But these two things, mutants, mutates, or whatever they are, scare you. Reckless, suicidal, dangerous. You feel so helpless in their presence. Never knowing you're to be kissed or killed.

"You're as lovely as I remember" The melancholy colors him in a monochrome of sympathy. Here is a man who's gone through every horror and still gets out of bed. Or maybe he has to, maybe he can't quite die and can't quite reach heaven. So he gulps down his immortality with black coffee to at least pretend he's being buried six feet deep. "Even after all this time I still love you" You almost melt in his brown eyes. So lonely, so desperate.

Kill or kiss

You want him to do both. Want to kiss extinction on his lips while being impaled by the claws. Kill or kiss.

Both, both, both.

"You know~" Wade pushes himself up, "I think your dress should be red...and black. To match your favorite man."

"Who the hell said you were the favorite?" Wade leans forward, in a blink he's gripped Logan's wrist and lunged the Wolvarine's claws into your abdomen.

You writhe, the bones and metal feel almost heavenly inside of you. When he retracts the claws you moan out, it's too saccharine to hold back. Everything feels so much lighter, colorful. You feel your essence slipping out, gushing over the back seat.

Red waterfall, so pretty.

Dress stained red.

"Told ya so!"

Wade pulls you roughly by the shoulders and smashes his lips against yours. He's so cute, fickle Cheshire cat, tongue dancing across your mouth, slitting itself on your peaked teeth, and filling your mouth with thick red caterpillar smoke. "What the hell is wrong with you? You really are God's perfect idiot" Logan's anger is tangible, sweet, and bitter like hatter tea at midnight.

"S'okay Logan, it feels nice" Your words slur, slipping gauche from your tongue as you giggle profusely. You feel like Alice cracking open Wonderland's ribs, crawling inside, and smearing the wonder across your face.

"When I used to read fairy tales, I fancied that kind of thing never happened, and now here I am in the middle of one" You've heard these words before, Alice's words. she's right. Your fairy tale is painted red with pretty, crazy, princes who think that slicing open a princess is easier than kissing her. You reach out for Logan, desperate for a kiss. "eat me" you mutter, and Logan's face morphs into pure terror "Wade what the hell have you done to her?".

"What? It's better this way trust me"

"I hate you"

Logan bends, meeting you halfway. He kisses you with all the wary of a dead man walking. All teeth and heart and bitter memories left to rot three lifetimes ago. He pushes himself between your bones, trying to carve out his ethos in your body. He'd burn the world so long as he gets to keep you.

You squeeze your thighs around Wade's muscular thighs and hips unlocking a gibby giggle from the man. His mask is half pulled up as he trails sloppy fervorous kisses across your neck and chest. The nostalgia slithering under your skin has you squirming, you've been through this all before. In a past life somewhere where storm monsters and voids don't exist. "Remember how good this feels?" Wade mumbles as his fingers dig into your puncture wounds, drawing slow, desperate moans from your puffy lips. You don't dare answer you don't know what would be worst admitting to liking the loudmouth ministrations or admitting there were other versions of you out there, other happy versions.

"Oh for hell's sake," Logan reclines the front seat and shuffles closer. Pulling down the back of your dress. His kisses are bite marks in disguise rabid and feral, the two things the man will never escape. His name rolls across your tongue, you let it slip in an airy moan. "No fair " Wade complains "I want you to say my name too." He pulls out his baby knife and etches the skin of your thighs. Scribbling doodles of stars and half hearts and the little symbol he wears on his belt. "W-wade" you gasp never knowing whether to scream in pain or giggle in bliss.

Logan laughs into your neck. You didn't even know he was capable of such a gentle thing. You bite his lip playfully. Dragging your fingers across his muscular arms. Your thumb pushes into the space between his knuckles asking for the claws. For the most macabre parts of him. You glide your tongue across the parish where flesh meets metal. Kissing the metal and bones and lapping at the blood. Watch curiously as he draws out a long airy sigh. "Good girl" he mumbles voice marred with ecstasy and you almost see the ghost of a smile smear across his pretty lips.

Wade's thumb gently rubs against your hips. Softly usering you into peace, tranquility. Your eyes get heavy, the car gets blurry. The grotesque realignment of their bones steering you into a deep, content sleep.

"Hey Peanut, you think Alice in Wonderland here would mind if we keep going? "  

"Shut it, moron "

"Oh, how I wish I could shut up like a telescope! I think I could, if only I knew how to begin.”

🎀Bonus

Deadpool: "Do you think the author's going to write about us again? Or is she planning to finally write that Dune fic she keeps talking about?

Wolverine: "I have no fucking idea what the hell you're even talking about.

🪐@yandere-romanticaa @bad4amficideas @sugarplumz100 @oscarissac2099 @facelessfionna @siphite @tocotuesday69 @linoleunm @mei-simp @shamelessdarkprince @gabriqllas @lovely-liliacs @shiroi-asashin17 @failinguniversity

[doomsdaybby]

content warnings: somnophilia, female anatomy descriptions for reader

"Baby?"

Eddie presses his nose to the nape of your neck, extended the perfect amount where he can murmur into your skin over two gentle kisses, innocent and sweet.

You barely move an inch, grunting in question back at him, settling closer to the warmth of his body that's flush against your back.

Another kiss, this one right over that artery, lingering his lips there to feel the mellow thump thump thump of your heart. A forth, then a fifth, sixth and seventh; travelling across the expanse of your bare shoulder, fingers skimming over your shirt strap to expose more flesh.

Not one inch of you went untouched, unloved. Eddie mumbles sweet nothings beneath each scathe of his lips, ones you couldn't quite hear since you were still stirring from slumber.

"Baby..." he whispers this time, wisps of heated breath a soothing contrast to the cool breeze that crept in through his bedroom window, arm wrapping around your waist in an affectionate embrace. Your body reacts on instinct when Eddie's fingertips glide over the plush of your tummy, down to knead at the fat of your hip and back up again. Slow, methodical, memorising every cell that made up your very being.

Eddie groans lowly when you shift in response to his touch, brushing the swell of your ass over the stiff bulge in his boxers. It was an accident, honest, you were barely conscious enough to realise.

The smallest noise escapes you once he grasps heavy-handed at the back of your thigh, groping your pillowy cheek, hardly avoiding the sensitive fold that meets the curve of your core.

A little rough for so early in the morning, an apricot and crimson sunrise bleeding through the cracks of his bedroom curtains, but Eddie just couldn't help himself. Not when you're absentmindedly pushing back on his fingers that drift ever closer to where his seed from the night before is dripping out of you, drifting in and out of sleepy consciousness.

"Fuck..." he sighs, thumbing at the wet spot at the centre of your panties. You sigh prettily with him, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, Eddie's cock twitches beneath the confines of cotton that guards him from the supple warmth of your skin.

He slides his fingertips beneath the elastic of your underwear, right over where you're obscenely slick with him. He rolls his hips forwards on instinct, a primal reaction that has him chewing the inside of his cheek once the tip of his cock ruts into the curve of your ass, waves of hushed profanities passing his lips.

"Eddie," you breathe meekly, eyes still fluttered closed as you tilt your head back into the juncture of his neck, balancing on his forearm that cradles you. He's shushing you then, managing to brush away the flyaway strands at your hairline, another sickly sweet kiss to your temple.

It was a stark contrast to the harshness of his touch across your centre, probing at the pool of mess he'd left you in, spreading it up along your inner folds to ghost across the hood of your clit.

"Relax, sweet girl, don't worry about what I'm doing," the words cascade off his tongue as smooth as neat whisky, palming at the expanse of sweet flesh before him with sickening greed.

It had been agreed to before on numerous occasions, a shared fantasy neither of you had felt comfortable enough to divulge in with past lovers. To be taken advantage of when you are most vulnerable, toyed with, defiled beyond measure.

"Isn't this what you wanted?" Eddie purrs lowly in your ear when a languid moan rattles beneath your ribs, teeth grazing across your lobe. "For me to use you whenever I felt like it?".

Your mouth parts a fraction in a silent gasp, lashes kissing, eyebrows furrowed amongst euphoric delirium that's only enhanced by your drowsiness. Eddie strokes one finger at your entrance, the sticky wet mixture of your arousal and his release granting him unchallenged access.

"Well now I feel like it," he mumbles hotly into your skin, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smug grin when you whimper. You could have begged if he asked you to, but he wouldn't expect that of you now, incapacitated and exposed.

The slide was far too easy, you're still stretched and gaping a little from only a handful of hours previous. "Just look at that," he trails a moan to himself, heavy-lidded and gaze a blazing furnace, focusing on where he disappears with ease inside you. "Jesus fucking christ".

Your cheeks tinge baby pink, flush with both the heat of Eddie's body grinding at your back and the realisation of what was happening. Of course you let him continue. How could you not? This was everything you had daydreamed about and more, the kind of fantasy that clouds your mind with a carnal desperation at the most inconvenient times, where you begrudgingly couldn't do very much about it.

You thought he was just messing around with you, working you up gradually, cruelly. Though you roused much faster as Eddie retracts his hand, finger slipping out of you to be swiftly replaced with the nudge of his tip along the seam of your lips. You whine in surprise, hooking an arm back to palm at the waistband of his boxers that collect at his hipbone.

You shove your hand beneath the material, reaching back some more to paw at the taunt muscle of his ass-cheek. You're clenching down onto the intrusion of the head of his cock, Eddie sucks in harsh breath through the teeth, and his lips are on you again in a heartbeat.

He chases the thrumming pump of your heart in your throat wet and open-mouthed with every ounce of love and fervour, tongue and teeth bared, laving up to suckle at that one spot behind your ear that has you keening.

He doesn't thrust once he's seated fully inside you, he scarcely even moves, relishing the throb of your walls that cling to him as if your life depended on it.

You're both panting something pathetic, the bedroom window above your tangled bodies steaming, the room now a humid vessel that tries to lull you back into a dream-like state.

"Keep those eyes closed for me, my pretty girl," He grins, basking in your needy gasps as he starts to rock against you, nosing at the angle of your jaw, laced with a merciless hunger that you can hear just by the elation of his words, "That's it".

[moineauz]

જ⁀ 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔 , various ! pt two

synopsis: his voice lines about you as his beloved partner

including: boothill, aventurine

side comments: my first voice line fic was well received and for that I thank you all <3 so of course this is for all my boothill and aventurine lovers out there! (including myself for boothill...)

extra: gn reader, angsty and fluffy moments, I genuinely loved writing boothill's, minor spoilers for both favourites: boothill word count: roughly 1000+

care to see the first part? includes dr. ratio, jing yuan, & blade!

𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋

WHO ARE THEY? I "Out here askin' question huh? Well if you're that curious... then you better listen close."

FIRST MEETINGS? "Met them on a bullet train in a neighbouring star system. Turns out we were chasing after the same fudge-heads. You could've seen them- a sly creature that's who they were, whipping out the most slick sniper I've ever seen. I'd reckon that was one of the most thrilling fights I've ever had: came out with dents all over my arms and a broken gun. Their bullets nearly punched a hole through my cheek... hah!"

GREETINGS? "They may be a load of dormant gunpowder, but they sure are sweet! Full of laughter and courtesy. But I'll let you in on a little secret... ( Name ) likes to walk in, pretty as always- and plant kisses all over my cheek before they even say a word."

PARTINGS? "Being a Galaxy Ranger means never staying in one place. ( Name ) is no Galaxy Ranger... I'd reckon it's better that way."

ABOUT US: SHOES IN THE HOUSE "I can't exactly 'take off my shoes' now can I? But ( Name ) likes to keep the house tidy and I best not anger them... like that one time- anyways, we came up with this whole fudging system just to keep the bottom of my damn boots clean! It's fudging ridiculous! *Chuckles* I can't help it, but ( Name ) is understanding. Even if I trudged through all the grime in the universe- they'd still wipe it all off."

ABOUT US: FAMILY "You see, ( Name ) has this big family. Siblings, cousins, extended cousins, aunts and uncles, you name it. We were on their home planet once, and I finally understood where ( Name's ) knack for puttin' a real good home together came from. Their family lives in the countryside where all you can see are open fields, lush hillsides, free-roaming animals and wildflowers. Consider it a quiet paradise. They even grow their own food for fudging sake! Everythin' made by hand and land. Darlin' nearly coaxed me into joining them for dinner once, but I knew better. Best not spoil the family get-together."

CHAT: HATS N' POSES "Personally, I like my hat and flare the way it damn is. How would fightin' be without it? But of course, your partner has to be a cheeky tease about it."

CHAT: WARMTH " I've seen it in the movies- those fudging 'romcoms'- and read it in books. When it gets cold... I'm no help. Can't do much except reach for a blanket and wrap them up. But even then, metal and skin don't fudging work."

PASTIMES DONE TOGETHER? "Count me in on a dance sugar plum! Have to admit, darlin' has a fair share of good dance moves. Nothin' like a hard-earned victory being celebrated with a cool glass of whisky and a smooth dance."

ARGUMENTS: "Bitter things that's all they are. Leaves you knocked out cold. Reminds you of all the things you can't take back."

SOMETHING TO SHARE: "Following the hunt ain't an easy task. But someone has to punish the wretched. That's the thing about the hunt- you get cold, hard. Sugar follows another path that doesn't make any fudging sense to me. But that doesn't matter. None of that ever mattered, not to them, not to me or even the hunt. Call it selfish, but I'd like to one day settle down... Just like their family. Out where no one could find us."

WHO ARE THEY? II "They call me their 'sweet lover'. But really it should be me saying that. If anything I am the sweat of their brow- a nuisance at times. But they still love me. They still fudging love me."

EXTRA: IPC ENTRY "Normally, Galaxy Rangers travel alone. However, we have seen the wanted Galaxy ranger- Boothill- be accompanied by someone who appears to be a vagabond follower of Xipe. Despite the information we possess, the relationship between Boothill and his supposed 'partner' is very limited."

𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄

WHO ARE THEY? I "Fancy meeting you here- oh? A rumor you say? Rumours do have peculiar ways of reaching the ears..."

FIRST MEETINGS? "All business ventures possess their gains and losses. However, I did not expect my pockets- alongside others- to be picked on a night meant to celebrate the Strategic Investment Department. The person who did it played their cards exceptionally well. I applauded them and the subtlety of their skills."

GREETINGS? "Despite their rather cunning nature, ( Name ) is quite kind... shockingly so. I thought their smile was a chip they played for their own meticulous advantage. *Chuckles* I was wrong, there was simply nothing to understand behind that smile."

PARTINGS? "One transaction after another, the universe keeps spinning. Don't keep up, you fall behind. Simple. I don't have to worry about that around them, or at least, for a while, until another wager must be made. Until the peck on the cheek is over."

ABOUT US: LOCKET "( Name ) has a keen eye for trinkets and bought- well stole- a locket for the two of us to share. I keep it with me, a lucky charm if you may."

ABOUT US: NAPPING "Personally, I don't nap. But, ( Name ) is a terrible influence and says I should. I must admit, waking up to them in the afternoon is not a bad way to spend my time."

CHAT: THEVERY "( Name ) is a thief... a good one at that. Oh don't worry, they struck a deal with the IPC. Primarily on their terms because they have been such a nuisance to the IPC. It's rather amusing seeing the IPC chase their own tail. We've definitely shared laughs over it."

CHAT: CONFESSIONS "Who could possibly love something so broken? It's like keeping a clock that won't tick or a deck of cards missing a queen. Sometimes, I wish they didn't care so much. It would be... easier."

PASTIMES DONE TOGETHER? "Of course, a good game of cards is a fun way to pass the time. *Chuckles* Though, ( Name ) is a terrible player. Not that I mind, I'll guess I'll play the role of 'loser' this time around- best you not tell them."

ARGUMENTS: "What else is there to say? Nothing. That part is the worst."

SOMETHING TO SHARE: HEART OF GOLD "( Name ) steals to give to the poor. It's their motto... I saw them once with a group of kids on a planet in a distant star system. They were giving back to the orphanage- the smiles on the children's faces when given toys, marbles to be exact, were so bright."

WHO ARE THEY? II "In all honesty, I'm not quite sure. However, what I do know is that luck finally worked in my favour... I'll hold onto that for as long as I can."

EXTRA: DR RATIO'S OPINION "The gambler- without hesitation- will bet 'all in' even if it means his own life hangs in the balance. However, amongst the chaos of his bets, there is one person who will drag him back to reality... ( Name ). Aventurine will never gamble nor forfeit the one person who truly understands him. Even I don't fully understand the gambler's crafty nature. I suppose a thief is the only one who can and more importantly, will."

masterlist.

[crepuscularpete]

"𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝖌𝖔𝖙 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖉𝖊𝖒𝖔𝖓𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖌𝖔𝖙 𝖉𝖊𝖘𝖎𝖗𝖊𝖘, 𝖂𝖊𝖑𝖑 𝕴 𝖌𝖔𝖙 𝖆 𝖋𝖊𝖜 𝖔𝖋 𝖒𝖞 𝖔𝖜𝖓."

[call-sign-shark]

Of Bending and Breaking || Tommy Shelby x Reader

Summary: Always being the one who cares for others comes with a price: you break down, but the most unexpected person is here for you: Tommy, the man you were forced to marry.

Words: 2,3k

TW: Hurt/Comfort, very tiny mention of past sexual assault, no proofreading 'cause it comes from clearing my drafts.

Notes: Aunt Isabella's is a tribute to my own aunt Isabelle who, unfortunately, died because of cancer a few years ago.

It all started with Polly shaking Tommy like a tree, her thin hands firmly grabbing his nephew’s broad shoulders: “You can’t keep sabotaging yourself like this, Tom.” These were the words that left her quivering lips as she dragged his staggering frame to the bathroom and pushed his face into the bathtub right under the tap. When the freezing water splashed all over his neck, Tommy opened his blank eyes wide and inhaled sharply, as if he had suddenly come back to life. Since Grace’s awful death, the gangster was the shadow of his former self. When he wasn’t waging a senseless war with Father Hughes and the Italian, or when he wasn’t keeping his buzzing mind busy with work, Tommy usually numbed himself with a deadly combination of whisky and opium until his deep-seated pain became bearable. It was the night he almost overdosed that Polly decided to take charge of his nephew and found him a new wife, in the hope of soothing his nephew’s mind and finding a mother figure for poor little Charlie. The idea had obviously sent Tommy in a fit of anger but Polly Gray couldn’t care less.

Regarding your own situation, it was not the opium nor the loss of a dear lover that had led you to Birmingham’s most dangerous man but rather the bump in your belly. Aunt Isabella had understood what you were suffering from the moment you had stormed out of the vardo to throw up your breakfast in the nearest bush. The tall and lean woman, whose light brown and curly mane danced in the cold autumn wind, had looked at you right in the eyes and raised one of her thin eyebrows. If there was something pleasant with her, it was that words weren’t necessary.

Yet, later she encountered Polly, with whom she had been a great friend since childhood, and explained that a powerful American man had forced his seeds in you during his stay in England. Not willing to go through the traumatic experience of aborting, Isabella only saw one solution to your problem: you needed a husband who could protect you and your future baby from the evil man with his scarred lip. A wedding would be your salvation. At the realization of what Aunt Isabella had planned for you, you tried to run away from the camp in the middle of the night but she knew you too well and soon caught you, her sly hand firmly grabbing your wrist: “Y/N! It’s for your sake! He’s rich, he needs a wife and he is feared! You’ll be safe with him, don’t you understand?” She explained, cupping your face with her long fingers adorned with claws painted in red and far too many rings. “I don’t need a man to protect me! I don’t need anyone. He’s older and he’s a criminal! Who’s going to protect me from him eh? Have you think ‘bout that?” You cried, the soft light of the sunrise turning your tears into liquid gold.

But still, you wedded him and what was supposed to be the happiest day of your life turned out to be a dull event during which you dissociated the whole time. The only memories you had in mind were two piercing and frightening turquoise eyes staring right at your soul and soft whiskey-tasting lips stealing a quick peck from your cherry lips. A kiss devoid of any form of affection. And then, the groom left.

From what Aunt Isabella told you, your husband had spent most of the celebrations with his brothers, drinking and taking bets outside of Arrow House. Months had passed and still, you felt estranged to this place and its staff. The only moments your heart lightened were when Aunt Isabella visited you, or when Charlie spent time with you, otherwise you remained emotionally closed, trapped in your own mind. Overall you could not complain: You had a house far too big for you with plenty of workers willing to exhaust every one of your wishes. Charlie was a sweet boy, who loved you with all his heart even if you were well aware that you’ll never replace his mother. As for the Shelby clan, they were cordial with you without being really friendly either. And there was Tommy…

Cold and distant Tommy, who you only saw late at night when he discretely slipped under the bedsheet and turned his back to you without uttering a single word. Busy Tommy, whose replies remained concise and spoken with a quiet husky voice each time you asked him something — at least he talked to you a little bit. Trapped in a loveless marriage, that was what you were: Tommy was more a stranger, a mere gust of wind in your life, than the love of your life.

Still, the gangster stayed true to his words and he provided for everything, never refusing to give you money when you asked, and protecting you from the man who had taken your innocence. He even gifted you a wonderful stallion because he knew how much you missed riding. In exchange for his protection and riches, all you had to do was take care of Charlie and do your best to be there for your husband when his darkness threatened to swallow him whole.

You found out about the nightmares shortly after your wedding and quickly decided to do something about it. When he woke up screaming and drenched in sweat after tasting the tunnels’ dirt and Grace’s crimson blood in his troubled sleep, you always cradle him, your fingers losing themselves in his wet dark hair to pet his head gently. At first, you feared his reaction, expecting the infamous Tommy Shelby to push you and not-so-kindly ask you to keep your distance but, to your greatest surprise, he never did. Instead, he would bury his face in your cleavage, panting and trembling, and let you reassure him. Just like he let you bring dinner to him each time he drowned himself in paperwork and forgot to eat. He never commented on your cooking skills though, even if he always handed back empty plates.

The blood on his skin? You cleaned it.

The wounds of his flesh? You never failed to patched them up.

The hole in his heart? You tried to seal it off with caresses, soft kisses, and shoulder massages. Maybe one day he would slowly turn his iciness into affection. Little did you know that he needed it. And by it he needed you. Just like the whole family. How many times did you walk the streets of Birmingham at night, seeking for Arthur and then bringing him home to take care of a wasted and high him? Far too many to keep track. Similarly, you had spent countless evenings helping Ada when she felt overwhelmed, either nursing Karl or cleaning her house when, just like her brother, she overworked herself. And finally, Polly could never thank you enough for everything you did to soothe her mind after the gallows, still haunted by the bite of the hanging rope on her throat.

“Thanks Poppy.” Arthur muttered, the gravel in his voice coated with shame now that you were down clearing and disinfecting his split knuckles. The oldest brother had started to affectionately call you so for the sole reason that, according to him, you must probably grow better when blood was considering how much you had seen when patching the Shelby siblings. “Sorry for errr… For the mess.” He went on, his steel blue eyes fleeing yours.

“That’s okay.” You replied in Romani, “You, sweet idiot.” Endeared by how surprisingly soft Arthur’s harsh complexions could turn, you couldn’t help but gently put your hand on one of his cheeks. And during this tender display of affection, Arthur was convinced he had caught sight of a smile — a scarce event barely happening on your beautiful but resigned face. Comforted by the warmth of your palm, he leaned into your touch and looked at you through dark lashes, his lids half-closed.

“Tommy’s one lucky bastard to have ya for himself, eh."

"Let's both flee together then." You teased, the familiar tone of Romani language rendered even more melodious by your siren-like voice.

"Don't tempt me, little one." Arthur replied, softer than intended and probably only half-joking.

The oldest Shelby brother had barely closed the door when your smile disappeared and tears flooded your eyes. Admittedly, spending months of repressing your own anguish didn’t do any good to you despite thinking that focusing on others would have helped. Quite the contrary, all those negative emotions you had left on the back burner turned into a silent and deadly parasite that was eating you up. Dragging your tired frame to the cold and empty marital bedroom, you curled up in a ball in a corner of the room, your bruised knees pressed against your chest, “Positive. You gotta stay positive and push forwards y’see Y/N? Do the right things for the family…” You whispered to yourself as your breath started to quicken for the ball of sorrow in your throat was growing more and more. Yes, you had to smile and say that all was just fine because you knew you were lucky to be here and that you hadn’t any real reason to complain now according to the rest of the world. And yet, the truth was you were tired. So tired and overwhelmed by everything around you. With your wild soul trapped here in the mighty walls of Arrow House, you could not help but drown in an excruciating feeling of worthlessness.

You were lost in a world too difficult for you to understand. Lost and unprepared for a life that asked for too much. When you were living in the vardo with Aunt Isabella life seemed so much easier despite the lack of money and, sometimes, food. Prior to your wedding, she used to tell you that everything would become clear once you’d be a wife and a mother. You’d be an adult adult, you see? But she lied. They all lied. Even with a husband and kids, you still felt like a scared and confused child, who wanted to hide under the blanket of her warm bed and never face the world ever again. These concerns of yours? You never shared because you wanted the Shelby to keep seeing you as a reassuring presence— moreover, God knew how much their broken hearts needed your silent care.

Bringing your trembling fingers to your mouth, you muffled a first sob, convinced it would be enough to keep you from crying. What you didn’t expect was to burst into tears, uncontrollably weeping. After all this time forcing yourself to be strong, your mind had enough. As your heart-wrenching cries echoed in the room they muffled Tommy’s footsteps that were coming closer and closer. When the door flung open, you did not even move, lost in a spiral of pain and psychological exhaustion.

“Y/N?!” Tommy called you, his usual coldness swept away by a surge of panic. He closed the distance between you and him with hastened steps, and put one of his knees on the floor to be at your level, “What’s wrong, ay?” His husky voice asked, worries thickening his Brummie accent even more. You hiccuped and raised your flooded eyes towards him, parting your lips to answer. Yet, as soon as your gaze met his turquoise iris you started weeping again, louder this time. Words were at a loss by dint of never having the chance to express what you felt throughout your life. “Bloody Hell, Y/N! Speak!” Tommy hissed, his heart now drumming in his chest at the sight of his young and always-so-strong wife crumbling in bits in front of him. Never in his life, he had felt so powerless, not even in the tunnels… And, God, he hated it.

“N-nothing. I don’t… I don’t even know it’s just that— I’m so fucking tired, and lost, and confused, and afraid!” You spoke with a very fast pace, spitting years and years of repressed emotions flowing from you all the while feeling deeply ashamed of your mental breakdown. When you were done venting, you simply turned your head and waved off the topic, tears still rolling down your reddened cheeks “Anyway! You’ve got — more important things to do.”

“Stop it, Y/N,” He scolded, low voice rumbling in his chest. His strong and calloused hands, damaged by the war and hard work, cupped your face with a softness you didn’t know he possessed. For the first time in your life, his grip felt utterly reassuring as if you knew these scarred palms were not going to let you fall apart. Never. “You’re what’s important right now.” With that being said, Tommy leaned his forehead against yours and his enchanting eyes soon met yours to force you to focus on nothing else but the vast blue oceans which composed them. “I want you to calm down.”

“I can’t, I can’t—“ You tried to speak but you couldn’t, struggling to breathe under the crushing weight of your panic attack. Your mouth gaped, looking for the oxygen it couldn’t find.

“Oi!” Tommy said louder. So loud that his voice managed to overcome the cacophony of your beating heart and the buzzing sound of your anxiety that filled your head, “I want you to breathe with me, Y/N. Alright? You can do that for me, ay?” He asked, his eyebrows slightly frowned and charming crowfeet appearing at the corner of his eyes — how odd it was to see Tommy’s face veiled with something else than unsettling placidity. Caught off guard by the sudden realization of how close he was, you quieted down a little bit and soon followed the pattern of his breathing.

One long inhale through the nose, one longer exhale through the mouth, and a short pose.

Do it again.

Your shaky hands slowly grabbed his wrists in a desperate attempt to anchor you to reality. This, as well as the focus you had on his mesmerizing complexions.

His long dark lashes — you inhaled slowly.

His cat-like turquoise iris — you exhaled.

His salient cheekbones — You stopped breathing for a very short while.

The myriad of freckles — “Breathe with me, Y/N.”

The soft, hoarse lilt guided you through the dark and thick fog of your own brain, just like a lighthouse. Coming back to clearer waters, your body finally relaxed and fell almost limp in his arms. And once again he caught you, keeping you all safe against his chest. Tommy’s voice, low and steady, resonated one last time in the bedroom with a reassuring warmth as he uttered the simple yet powerful phrase, "I'm here." Each word carefully enunciated, carrying a quiet strength that soothed and reassured, like a comforting anchor in a stormy sea.

Keep your writers motivated: Reblog and/or comment if you liked it, you filthy animal! o/ English is not my first language btw.

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