#Guide for Deep Web Searching

[ptergwen]

Hi there, I'm SO HAPPY YOUR BACK! I was wondering if you could maybe write a Tom Holland Peter Parker x fem Stark reader based on this prompt?: You’re unconscious after a mission gone wrong, and Peter’s voice shakes as he desperately calls your name, when Tony comes. If you don't want to do it, its ok

stay

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w/c: 2,005

warnings: mentions of blood, angst (happy ending!)

a/n: hi lovely thank you sm! you guys know i love my angst so i felt very in my element with this one hehe, thanks for the patience while i get used to writing again! feel free to keep sending in your reqs and chatting, i love hearing from y'all and will answer asap ♡

"y/n? it's over, i got him. i’ll come find you, okay?"

you don't answer.

"y/n/n? can you hear me?"

there's only silence on peter's end of the headset. peter isn't worried, not at first. he figures maybe you just got disconnected.

"y/n?"

nothing.

now that peter hasn't heard from you on the third try, he is starting to worry. the two of you had gotten separated during your mission. the plan was for you to distract your opponent and peter to web him up, but you lost him somewhere along the way. it was hard to stick together in the dark, twisty tunnels. he'd thought it would be best to take care of your opponent himself and find you after.

tony is going to kill him if he let anything happen to you. it's okay, though. he can just use his suit to track your location.

"friday?"

"yes, peter?"

"take me to y/n."

peter swings through the tunnels to get to you faster. friday guides him, which he's grateful for because he doesn't have a great sense of navigation as is. it's even more difficult underground. peter lands where friday tells him to, but he doesn't see you.

"are you sure this is where she is? i think she might've lost connection... maybe her location didn't update."

"y/n's watch is online, peter."

peter notices something on the ground, its blinking light catching his attention. he picks it up. sure enough, it's your stark tech watch, but where are you?

"would you like me to check again?"

peter makes out a figure a few feet away. it isn't moving. he takes a few steps toward the figure, reaching for his mask.

"that's okay. thanks, friday."

he removes his mask to see better, brows knitting together. something doesn't feel right. peter's senses confirm it, the hairs on his arms standing up and eyes focusing harder in the darkness. in peter's head, he already knows it's you. in his heart, he hopes it isn't.

peter crouches down and puts a hand on the figure's shoulder, rolling them over to face him.

it's you.

your spandex suit has some rips in it, and dirt is coating your back. your mask is pulled up part of the way. peter takes it off, revealing blood dripping down your forehead, your eyes just barely open. tears roll down your cheeks. peter cups your face tenderly in his hands, eyes desperately searching for yours.

"oh my god, baby, what happened?"

"that guy."

your voice comes out weak. despite the blood and tears staining his gloved fingers and the tightening in his throat, peter does his best to stay calm.

"what guy? the one we were fighting?"

"yeah."

"he did this to you?"

you hum in response. peter props an arm behind your head for support.

"it's okay. everything's gonna be okay."

"but... it hurts."

"i know, baby. but you're gonna be okay. we're gonna get you home and..."

your eyes flutter closed.

"hey, hey, hey. look at me."

peter strokes your cheek, willing you to stay awake. you grunt.

"tell me where it hurts so i can take a look. can you do that for me, y/n? where does it hurt?"

"my head. on top."

peter carefully parts your hair, searching for the source of your bleeding. there's a damp patch of hair near the top of your head. he moves it aside and finds a gash. it's small, but fairly deep. he doesn't think he can handle this on his own; he needs to tell tony.

"i’m gonna call your dad, okay?"

you don't respond. your eyes are closed when peter looks for them.

"y/n? you have to stay awake."

you don't say or do anything to indicate that you hear him. tears prick peter's eyes, threatening to spill over. he doesn't know much about head injuries, but he knows this isn't good.

"please wake up, y/n/n."

peter grabs both your shoulders and shakes, hard enough that it should wake you. nothing. you seem to have slipped into some sort of an unconscious state.

your watch starts to beep with an incoming call from your dad. peter accepts it with a shaking hand.

"friday tells me your vitals are suspiciously low, little lady. what's going on?"

peter fights to keep his tears at bay. he cradles your head with one hand, placing his other on your heart. he needs to feel your heartbeat to remind himself you're still here.

"it's me, tony."

"kid? where's y/n?"

a quiet sob escapes him, tears finally falling. tony doesn't need to hear anything else.

"i’m on my way."

it doesn't take long for tony to get to you and peter. he comes whirring through the tunnels, retracting his iron man suit when he lands. you lie on the ground, your head in peter's lap. you'd woken up shortly after peter spoke to your dad, but you aren't really responsive. peter is cradling your head gently in both hands and whispering words of reassurance.

he's so focused on you that he doesn't even notice tony is there until he feels a hand on his shoulder.

"what happened, kid?"

tony kneels down next to peter.

"i... i don't know. the guy we were fighting... i didn't see, i think she hit her head."

"okay, okay. let me see the damage."

tony uses his watch to illuminate the dark area. there's dry blood all around the crown of your head, in your hair. it's worse than he expected. he doesn't let it show, though. he doesn't want to alarm you any more than you already are, or peter for that matter; he's a mess.

"i found this."

peter moves your hair to show your dad the wound on your head. tony shines the light on you to get a better look. concern flashes in his eyes briefly, but long enough for peter to see it.

"friday, call the med bay. tell them it's my daughter."

"yes, boss. it appears y/n may have a concussion. i've detected a large contusion."

you bring a hand up to your head, trying to feel the wound. peter coaxes your hand away with a don't touch, baby. you try to say something, but you can't. you're in too much pain. your dad and peter share a knowing look.

"we'll be there soon, fri. make sure they're ready for us. and call happy, tell him to pick us up asap."

"i’ll let them know right away, boss."

a bright light shines directly in your eyes, making you stir a bit in peter's lap. you whine and squeeze your eyes shut. fresh tears fall down your cheeks.

"it's okay, it's okay. it's just your old man."

you squint your eyes open.

"dad?"

"hey, y/n/n."

"what... what're you doing?"

"just gotta take a look at something. look up?"

you try to open your eyes again, but your eyelids feel heavy. tony holds one of your eyes open himself, then the other. he clicks his tongue.

"what's wrong? is she okay?" peter asks your dad.

"pupils are bigger than they should be. still reacting to light, though. that's good."

"what does it mean if her pupils are too big?"

"friday's right. she could have a mild concussion."

the light turns off, your body finally relaxing. peter's body stiffens.

"that's serious, isn't it?"

peter looks from tony to you, stroking your hair and cupping your cheek, then back up at tony. tony can see the fear in his eyes.

"it shouldn't be, the bleeding just gave us a scare. we'll know more when we get her home."

you grab at peter's knee. he places his hand over yours, thumb smoothing along the back of your hand. you look around the tunnel with blurry vision.

peter doesn't like the uncertainty of this. they don't even know the extent of your injuries, just that they might be serious. he knows you're going to be okay, that tony and the med bay team know what to do and you'll bounce back from this because you're you, but he's scared. you've never been hurt this badly before.

"happy's got our location. he'll be here as soon as he can," tony tells you, voice uncharacteristically soft. you blink your eyes in response. "how long is that gonna be?" peter asks.

"i’m not sure, kid."

hot, frustrated tears fill peter's eyes.

"we can't just wait around anymore. she's been like this for a while."

"trust me, pete. i don't like waiting either."

"then let's just bring her back ourselves."

tony gives peter a stern look.

"let's not."

"why not? it's faster if one of us takes her. i’ll swing her there right now."

peter is already scooping you into his arms, preparing to pick you up. you groan at the sudden movement. tony removes you from peter's arms and takes you into his own protectively.

"i said no. we're not flying her home, and we're definitely not swinging her. it isn't safe."

peter stays quiet, blinking back tears.

"you've gotta remember, y/n isn't like you. she doesn't have powers. for the stark's, it's just us out there."

he knows tony is right, of course he is. he forgets how vulnerable you actually are because you're always so strong. riding home with happy may take longer than peter wants it to, but it's safer for you. he needs to think about your best interest. putting other things first caused all of this in the first place.

if peter had found you earlier instead of finishing the fight, maybe he would have been able to get you help sooner. maybe you wouldn't be in this bad of a condition.

"i’m sorry, tony. i’m really, really sorry."

"no biggie, i get it. you're just looking out for her."

"no, that's the problem. i wasn't."

"what're you talking about?"

peter can't hold back his tears any longer.

"i wasn't there when y/n got hurt. it must've happened when we separated. when i found her, she... she was already like this."

"hey, kid. don't do that, don't blame yourself. you didn't know."

"i could've known if i paid more attention. i could've heard, or... or maybe she said something."

peter avoids tony's gaze, too ashamed to look at him, and too guilty to look at you.

"everyone gets caught up, pete. hell, you know i do. but you know what? you're here for y/n now, and we're taking care of her. that's what matters."

"you mean, you're not mad at me?"

tony surprises him by outstretching an arm and pulling him into a side hug. peter manages a small smile, wiping at his watery eyes.

"do i seem mad?"

"guess not. thanks."

tony pats him on the shoulder.

"time to go. happy'll be here any minute."

"okay, i’ll go ahead of you guys so you can see where you're going."

peter starts to collect your things while your dad helps you up. you're disoriented, head pounding, and you stumble a bit because you don't quite have your balance. tony is quick to catch you.

"easy, y/n/n. you're alright, yeah?"

"i want peter."

"he's right here, just leading the way. i’m gonna help you."

"no, i want peter."

peter's heart clenches. he looks to your dad for permission.

"alright, parker. i'll trade you. but be careful, she's precious cargo."

tony lets go of you, but he stays close just in case. he takes your things from peter. you fling yourself into peter's arms, hiding your face in the space between his neck and shoulder. peter hugs you to his chest. tony smiles at peter and nods in approval, making peter smile back.

"i got you," peter coos. "are you gonna need help walking, or you got it?"

"i dunno, i'm dizzy. carry me?"

"sure, baby."

peter picks you up bridal style, one arm secured under you and the other supporting your head. you loosely wrap your arms around his neck.

"can you stay with me when we get there?"

peter kisses the side of your head lightly.

"i’m not going anywhere."

tags (join my new taglist!)

@spidermans-gf @sacharinee @thollandsgirl2013 @pettypeety

[prythianpages]

Hopelessly Devoted | Eris x Reader

Eris x Reader x Azriel | You're hopelessly devoted to Azriel, suspecting he’s your true love. Meanwhile, Eris is hopelessly longing after you. aka Eris being your mate but you're too infatuated with Az to notice.

warnings: slight angst, reader being a bit delulu

*also disclaimer that I am no expert in astrology and my knowledge is usually what I gathered from friends or tiktok so if I'm wrong, please correct me but do it nicely pls bc I am sensitive lol*

a/n: I wasn't sure whether to include Az or not in the pairing but I liked the idea of leaving this fic up to your interpretation. Anyway, happy reading! <3

As you entered the Night Court’s observatory, you traced your fingers along the edge of the great celestial map laid before you. You could feel the soft hum of magic beneath your fingertips, still smell the faintest hint of sage–a remnant of your father’s last ritual here. For centuries, your father has served as the Night Court’s astrologer. He’s guided and advised High Lord Rhysand and on occasion, Keir, the steward of the Court of Nightmares.

Above you, constellations and planets danced across the domed ceiling, the stars gleaming as though they were ready to whisper secrets just for you. You took a deep breath, centering yourself, and placed a palm flat against the massive zodiac wheel etched onto the floor. It began to glow, a warm golden light tracing symbols of the zodiacs and planets.

“Stars above and stars below, reveal the path I seek to know,” you quietly murmured.

The markings on the wheel shifted in response, aligning and realigning with clicking sounds, the warm golden light following. Then, your own chart had appeared, shimmering above you. It was a translucent web of stars and planets connected by silvery lines. You’ve read your birth chart many times, become so familiar with it that you knew it by heart even.

But tonight, you needed the extra reassurance. So you looked up, watching as the planets moved slowly. Your heartbeat a little faster as you spotted Jupiter making transit through your seventh house. The promise of growth, abundance, luck and most important of all, love filled the air. 

You slipped a small vial from the hidden pocket of your cobalt blue dress. The words Love Potion No.9 gleamed on the glass, the dark red liquid swirling. It was the enchanted perfume you’d bought from a witch last week—a little love potion designed to make you irresistibly alluring to your soulmate.

You felt a bit foolish, seeking a witch for guidance on love of all matters. Witches were frowned upon in the Court of Nightmares, after all. But impatience had finally nudged you to venture beyond the court’s dark mountain and into the surrounding forests, in search of someone who could help.

“Seek the one who walks between light and shadow with a mask of cool indifference, where fire meets the edge of night. There your heart shall find its match,” she had told you as she handed you the enchanted perfume.

Her words had only confirmed what you had been suspecting for years, centuries even.

Azriel was your soulmate. 

Azriel, the very embodiment of cool indifference, wore a mask of stoicism in the Court of Nightmares, just as High Lord Rhysand did. But his hazel eyes always seemed to burn with a hidden fire. And when you were alone with him, away from the cold nobility of the Night Court, Azriel would let that mask slip, revealing a kinder side that laughed and smiled with you. He was your friend and not only did he literally walk among shadows, he wielded them. It had to be him!

And then, there was your birth chart. Your seventh house lay in Taurus—a sign ruled by Venus. With Venus positioned in your twelfth house, everything pointed to the idea that your future soulmate would bring your happiness and pleasure. And since you met Azriel all those years ago during a counseling your father led, happiness had been an emotion you'd grown more familiar with.

The stars couldn’t have given you a clearer message!

**

There was a flutter in your stomach as you approached Azriel. The two of you had been stealing glances at one another, as you usually did anytime you found yourselves in the same place. He looked as beautiful as ever. As dreamy as ever. 

Though your High Lord and High Lady had moved to the center of the ballroom for a dance, he had stayed by the dais. “Hello,” you greeted him with a small smile.

Azriel turned to you, that mask of his slipping for just a brief moment to smile back at you. He took the extra wine glass in your hold, murmuring a small thanks. He turned his head back to the dance floor, attentive to his High Lady’s whereabouts. But he shifted closer to you, the coolness of his shadows caressing your bare arm and you couldn’t help but wonder if the perfume was working.

“You look nice,” he commented.

“Thanks.” A blush rose to your cheeks. You’d taken care to match your dress to the exact shade of his siphons. And he noticed. “So do you.”

“I wear this all the time.” Azriel replied drily, referring to his usual Illyrian leathers.

“Yeah, I know.” You cursed yourself inwardly for the awkward response, then shifted closer, leaning toward him. “Do I smell to you?”

Azriel paused, his shadows brushing close, as if curious themselves. “No,” he said after a moment.

“Oh.” Disappointment seeped into your voice despite your best efforts, and his gaze shifted to you, a hint of a frown in his brows.

“Do you want to smell?”

There’s a teasing edge to his tone, a subtle quirk of his lips. You shook your head, letting out a small, nervous laugh. "No. I just wanted to know if I smelled any…different…,” and then, in a much quieter tone, you murmured, “to you.”

Azriel considered your words. He looked to you in what seemed like permission. You gave a nod of your head and he leaned in, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine. “You smell the same to me.” At the breath you let out, he quickly added: “which is good by the way. You smell nice.”

“Oh, okay,” you smile, albeit a bit awkwardly, the flutter you had felt in your stomach earlier twisting into a knot. 

“Y/n, is everything alright?” Azriel asked softly.

“Yeah, I just thought—” You stopped, not sure how to explain without sounding foolish. It wasn’t like you could admit to feeling disappointed over the lack of reaction from an enchanted perfume you’d spent quite a fortune on. Especially when he was the sole purpose for it. Had the witch scammed you?

Azriel waited for you patiently, concern flashing in his eyes. Maybe the perfume hadn’t worked, but the stars and planets had never led you astray. That still had to mean something, right? 

“I’m fine.” You finally said.

“Are you sure?”

The way he was looking at you had warmth creeping up your neck and settling deeper in your cheeks. “Yeah.”

A single shadow curled around Azriel’s ear and in the blink of an eye, his head turned. Your gaze followed his, to where Rhysand and Feyre were standing. Rhysand sent him a slight nod and with a sigh, Azriel returned it.

“Sorry, I have to go.” Azriel said, quickly downing the remaining wine from his glass.

You held out your hand, offering to take it for him.

“Thank you. I’ll be back. Don’t have too much fun without me, alright?”

“I’ll try not to,” you replied.

You watched Azriel disappear into his shadows before turning away from the dais and making your way to the refreshments table. You were eager for a refill on your glass. Perhaps a little more wine would help ease the sting of disappointment. But he’d said he’d be back, hadn’t he?

As you scanned the room, you noticed your father in conversation with one of Keir’s sons and your mother eyeing potential suitors for your older brother. As an elite warrior of the Darkbringers, he had no shortage of admirers, and it was only a matter of time before your mother secured him a match—perfect or not.

You suspected you’d be next on her matchmaking list, so you busied yourself with small talk among familiar ladies. Conversations were always a mind-numbing, the ladies your age exchanging beauty tips that centered around the male’s eye or fawning over this season’s most eligible males. Which this season just so happens to be your brother. Gross. If only they knew him the way you did….

Second to him was Bret—or some equally uninspiring name. A Scorpio, of all things, which clashed miserably with your chart. Not that it mattered. You had no interest in any noble of the Court of Nightmares. Or any male here. Most, if not all, were cruel and narcissists, only viewing females as child bearers and nothing more. 

There was a reason why this court was burdened with the title “Nightmares.”  And to marry someone from here would mean never waking up from this darkness. No stars to light your night skies, only endless shadow and despair.

So, you’d taken fate into your own hands. You’d turned to your birth chart, hoping the stars would lead you somewhere beyond Hewn City, beyond this never-ending nightmare. And they had. They led you to believe it was Azriel. Azriel, who was not only honorable and single but also, technically, part of the Court of Dreams. He’d been your friend for centuries, seeing you for who you are rather than an object or prize like most males here. 

As you sneak away from the conversation, you bump into something–someone. Behind you, a deep voice huffed a low, mocking chuckle. “Easy there, librarian.” 

You could recognize that voice anywhere, could recognize the heat radiating from him. It pressed down on you, leaving you simmering with irritation.

“I’m a libra, not a librarian.” You bit out. It hasn’t even been a minute and already you were exhausted by the searing presence behind you. “And besides, to you, it’s Lady Y/N.”

When you turned, you found Eris looming over you. His amber eyes gleamed with a familiar, infuriating mischief. He gave you that signature smirk of his, the one that made his sharp features all the more arrogant. “Such a harsh tone. Hardly fitting for a Lady.”

Your gaze hardened into a glare, only to have it stray toward a movement across the ballroom.  A flicker of shadow caught your attention, and your heart gave a small, hopeful jump as your gaze softened. There he was—Azriel.

He had returned to the ballroom…but he hadn’t returned to you…

Eris raised a glass to his lips, amber eyes flicking lazily between you and Azriel. “Disappointment doesn’t suit you.”

“I’m not disappointed.” You muttered hastily.

He gave a scoff, his smirk widening with dark amusement. “Please. I can practically feel it.”

“Liar,” you shot back. 

“Azriel said he’d find me again and unlike you, he’s a male of his word,” you continued, not sure why you were telling Eris this. “He’s…”

Your words trailed off as you watched Azriel, who stood next to Nesta and Elain. He laughed–actually laughed!-- at something Elain had said, shadows absent from his frame as his focus remained solely on her. You couldn’t miss the soft smile playing on his lips, nor the warmth in his gaze. Did he do that with every female he knew? You thought he reserved that just for you…

The bubble in your chest slowly deflated.

“Keep dreaming,” Eris huffed out. He seemed to take special pleasure in your reaction. It prompted your cheeks to flush but this time, with irritation.

“Oh, go away, you prick,” you said, rolling your eyes. “You don’t understand.”

“Oh, wouldn’t I?" he replied, leaning closer, his sharp gaze burning into you. You missed the flash of longing in his amber eyes, too focused on Azriel. Or the way the words that had been on the tip of his tongue faltered as your scent suddenly overwhelmed him, his breath hitching slightly.

 "You smell.”

“Gee, thanks,” you mumbled absently.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, his voice gruff and pupils flaring. “You smell different tonight…good...”

You blinked, barely processing his words. Was he actually being nice to you? In all the years you’ve known him, he’s always had snark remark after snark remark for you. The way it would roll smoothly off his tongue always left you wondering if he’d rehearse them for his visits to the Court of Nightmares. 

You fidgeted, fingers grazing your wine glass as you cast a hesitant glance back at Azriel. Your chest tightened as he remained engrossed in conversation with Elain. Turn around, please. But he hadn’t even looked your way once. 

Eris stepped in front of you, drawing your attention back to him. His gaze roamed over you, your dress. He took in the shade and he knew why you had chosen it–and for whom.  "You know," he said, his gaze lingering on your face.  "Red suits you far better.”

“And there he is, you’re back…”

"I’m serious. This—" He gestured to your gown with a slight grimace, his fingers brushing the silk fabric in disappointment. "This color washes you out. Red would bring out the color of your eyes…”

Your jaw clenched but you remained silent, refusing to admit that his words stirred something within you. Eris was insufferable, arrogant, and yet you couldn't deny his eye for detail. He, after all, was always dressed impeccably in the finest Autumn attire. But you would never give him the satisfaction of admitting he might be right.

His smirk widened, as if he knew exactly what you were thinking. “Do you want to know another thing?”

“No,” you said immediately.

But he leaned in anyway, his breath warm against your ear. “You’re hopelessly devoted to a male who doesn’t even look your way.”

Your mouth opened, brows furrowing in protest, but he went on. His smirk softened, fading into a half-smile. One that didn’t reach his eyes, dimming the fire that usually burned so brightly there. And then, in a much quieter, reluctant tone, he murmured, “And I am no different, it seems.”

"But…" You stammered, resisting the urge to steal another glance at Azriel. "He does look my way…sometimes.”

Eris’s smile faded, his expression tightening. A flicker of pain crossed his face. So brief, you almost thought you imagined it.  "You’re delusional.”

“And you’re insufferable.” You scoffed, heart pounding.

“Better than being a fool.” 

The mocking tone was there but the usual sharpness had been softened by a strange, subtle sadness. Was this… pity?

You swallowed, lifting your chin defiantly. “The stars wouldn’t lie to me,” you said, though the conviction in your voice wavered. “He’s the one for me.”`

You met his eyes then and Eris held your gaze. His amber eyes warm and molten, the intensity of his stare prickling at your skin. An unsettling flutter erupted in your stomach, rising to your chest. A feeling you quickly dismissed when you felt something cool brush against your arm.

“Is he bothering you, y/n?”

Eris scoffed at the sudden presence beside you. It sickened him to see that sweet, adoring look on your face, the triumphant gleam in your eyes as you looked up at Azriel. The sight made Eris grit his teeth. His instincts roared at him, the fire in his veins was scorching.

You blinked, snapping out of your daze, realizing both males were waiting for your answer. “No,” you said but the way you shifted to stand behind Azriel said otherwise.

Azriel’s gaze hardened as he looked toward Eris. “Stay away from her,” he seethed.

A low growl rumbled from Eris’s chest as he took a step forward, his amber eyes flaring with rage. Though not as tall as Azriel, he seemed to tower over him at this moment. His teeth flashed as his lips curled into a snarl. “I do not take orders from bastards like you.”

Azriel’s wings tensed, threatening to unfurl and the movement of his shadows quickened. Like a storm ready to unfold. But before it could, you placed a hand on his arm. Right over one of his glowing siphons that seemed to be growing hotter and hotter, daring to match the fire coursing through Eris’s veins.

“Az, don’t,” you told him gently, not wanting to draw any attention to the three of you. You felt his muscles ease under your touch, his shadows brushing over your hand in agreement.

Eris’s gaze dropped to your hand on Azriel’s arm, his expression darkening into something unreadable. He exhaled sharply, turning his head as though trying to shake off whatever thought had crossed his mind.

When he looked back, his features had shifted into his usual cool mask, that infuriating smirk sliding back into place. He looked right at you.

“When you wake up from this deranged dream of yours, come find me.”

You watched him, feeling a strange, unwelcome tug in your chest as he turned to leave. Perhaps, one day you’d realize that the enchanted perfume you had bought was not a scam. 

And that the male you searched through the stars and planets for was not the one standing beside you, but the one who’d just walked away.

a/n: sorry if you're not a libra, I just thought it'd be funny for Eris to purposely say reader's sign wrong as he knows astrology is a huge influence on her.

[series masterlist]

[Eris masterlist]

General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444 @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human @mrsjna, @adventure-awaits15, @lorosette

@alwayshave-faith

[holybibly]

Unholy thoughts of the day, my sweet bunnies: Those gorgeous thighs are given to Wooyoung for a reason. Or you visit Woo at his studio to spend quality time with him, riding his thick, meaty thigh.

"I'm sure you think you can handle it all on your own like a real big girl, don't you, my sweet Peach? But look at you, baby girl, rubbing your lovely peachy cunt against my thigh like a needy little slut in heat." The vicious, seductive veins that weave an intricate web beneath the caramel-gold skin of Wooyoung's forearms swell and throb as he digs his fingers harder into the soft, plush flesh of your thighs.

The heavy silver of his massive rings scratching painfully against your delicate skin, leaving on it angry reddish marks with barely visible dewdrops of blood on the surface of the tiny scratches. But it doesn't make any sense to you, not when Woo's strong hands so skilfully guide your movements as you continue to fuck his leg with all your might as if it were the sole purpose of your entire life. And maybe it was, though, because nothing could make you give up the urge to get that coveted and long-awaited release.

This has been going on for almost an hour, and you're absolutely desperate, to say the least.

You looked like an absolute mess with your soft pink pleated skirt pushed up to your waist, your cute cotton panties torn at the crotch and sticky with your slime and Wooyoung's saliva, and the cups of your lace bra pulled down and lewdly exposing your luscious breasts. Your pretty tits jiggle seductively in front of your boyfriend's face as you rub your wet, plump pussy against his thick, muscular thigh.

And the sight of your reddened nipples, so swollen and shiny from all the treatment he's given you with his mouth, makes Woo want to take your breasts in his mouth again and suck them hot and aggressively. But instead he just leans in closer and playfully licks one of your large, dairy tits, making you moan softly.

To be honest, it wasn't what you had hoped for when you came to Wooyoung's studio to hang out with him for a while, but hell, you had nothing to complain about now except for your torn underwear. This was the sixth pair of panties Wooyoung had ruined this month, and if he hadn't been the one who bought you your underwear, you would have slapped his hands, but as he was the one paying the bils who were you to deny him what he liked so much – the dirty, seductive look of your torn panties all wet and transparent from a mixture of drool, cum and squirt framing your puffy and flushed labia from hours of hot and deep sex.

When Woo pulled you over to sit on his lap, you hadn't expected that within five minutes his fingers would be in your pussy and his long tongue in your throat, and now you were garden-fucking yourself on his thigh, smearing your juices all over his firm, golden skin and leaving a shiny, wet trail of your arousal on his tattoo.

However, you weren't the only one desperate for release, if you could tell by the way Wooyoung's big, thick cock was poking at the front of his shorts; the swollen, wet head peeking boldly out from under the elastic, tempting you to slide to the floor and take his hard length in your mouth, to feel the delicious, warm weight of his cock on your tongue. But instead you continued, moving your hips in search of release, making a huge wet mess.

Wooyoung thought it was a waste of your sweet juices when instead his cock could have been wrapped in the tight, smoothness of your cunt, fucking and stretching it hotly and efficient as you oozed all over its length and heavy, cum-filled balls.

"I can feel your pretty pussy clenching around nothing, Peach. You're close, aren't you, sweetheart?" Wooyoung purrs into your skin, rubbing his face against your tits. "Come on, baby, cum on my thigh; show me how much you like it."

You sob, pressing your crotch harder into his thigh, feeling his muscles tense underneath you, stimulating you further. You almost squeal as the pad of Woo's thumb presses against your throbbing, sensitive clit, rubbing it in quick, aggressive circles. Sharp, hot pleasure rushes through you like a tsunami, making every cell in your body tingle pleasurably.

"I can't wait to get my cock inside you, Peach. I'm going to fuck you so good...' He whispers, guiding you through your orgasm. Woo continues to play with your clit and rub the delicate folds of your pussy with his long fingers until you start to whimper pitifully from over-excitement.

Only when your whole body shakes and spasms and drool starts to flow from your slightly open mouth, he pulls his fingers out, allowing you to catch your breath from the orgasm you've just experienced. You fall forward, exhausted, and press your face against his neck, inhaling deeply the heavy, rich scent of his perfume.

"Well, well, Peach, don't relax; you still have to make me come."

[dragoneyelashart]

stressed out

summary: you’re stressed about tests and billie helps you!

authors note: kinda done w testing season

fluff

the weight of the week had been suffocating. eight tests, back-to-back, and next week was already threatening to pile on even more. stress had settled deep into your bones, making it impossible to think of anything else. billie was busy in the studio as usual, her music always a comforting escape, but tonight, you opted against joining her. there was simply too much work to do.

papers were scattered across the floor in front of the bed, while others were stacked in disarray on the desk, creating a chaotic web of notes, textbooks, and scribbled reminders. over 500 terms to memorize, a mountain of math problems to conquer, and a paper that felt like it would never end. you ran your fingers through your hair in frustration, trying to recall the last part of a definition. 

“the hypothalamus is in the brain that produces hormones that control hunger, mood, body temperature, and… what’s the last one?” you muttered, your voice shaky. your eyes flicked to the notes in front of you, your mind frantically searching for the missing piece. “heart temperature. that’s it,” you sighed, flipping over your flashcard with a mix of relief and dread. 

it was then that the sharp sound of glass shattering echoed through the room. your heart skipped a beat. billie’s eyebrow raised in confusion, and you could already hear her footsteps hurrying toward you. you froze, your breath catching in your throat as she stepped into the room, her eyes widening at the sight of the mess—the scattered papers and the shards of glass scattered across the floor, glittering under the soft light.

your trembling lip betrayed you before you could hide it. tears welled in your eyes, and you wiped at them furiously, trying to push the wave of emotion away. but the tears kept coming.

billie’s expression softened instantly, her concern clear. “hey, hey, my love. it’s okay, i’m here,” she murmured, her arms wrapping around you. the warmth of her embrace offered a fleeting sense of comfort, but the tears didn’t stop. you couldn’t hold it back anymore.

“i’m sorry, billie,” you choked out, your voice barely above a whisper. “i’ll clean it up. just give me a sec.”

before you could even move, billie pulled you back into her arms, her grip firm, refusing to let you go. “don’t worry about that, baby,” she said gently. “you need a break, okay? just come here.” 

with a reassuring smile, she guided you to the bed, switching on the tv to your favorite show. she lay beside you for a moment, her presence grounding you. her touch, soft and soothing, calmed your racing thoughts for just a moment. but the weight of the week was still heavy on your mind, the endless tests and the mountain of content you had to memorize.

billie didn’t leave you alone for long. she soon returned, a broom in one hand, and in the other, a water bottle and a cinnamon roll her mom had sent earlier that day. she placed them gently on the bed and kissed your forehead, her soft lips offering a quiet comfort. 

you smiled weakly, grateful for the gesture, but the stress still lingered like a fog in your mind, your thoughts spiraling back to the mountain of work waiting for you. billie, ever attentive, noticed the tension in your shoulders and the faraway look in your eyes.

“what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” she asked, her voice low and soft. 

you looked away from the tv, giving her a faint smile, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “just thinking,” you whispered.

billie didn’t push. instead, she suggested, “would it help if you spoke it out loud? you can talk to me, baby. i might not know much, but i’ll listen.”

you couldn’t help but giggle at her hopeful tone, the small burst of laughter feeling like a tiny release. nodding, you scooted closer to her, your head resting on her chest as she wrapped her arms around you, her fingers gently combing through your hair. 

“okay,” she said, her voice a soft hum against your ear. “what class first, pretty girl?”

you let out a breath, feeling the tension start to ebb away as her hands moved soothingly down your back. “psychology,” you replied quietly, your voice a bit steadier.

and with that, you started to talk—rambling through the terms, correcting yourself as you went, but more importantly, feeling the weight of your anxiety start to lift with each word. billie’s encouragement, her kisses on your forehead and the soft way she praised you for getting through each term, made the flood of information feel less overwhelming. the frantic energy that had consumed you earlier slowly began to dissipate, replaced by a sense of calm as you moved from class to class.

“take your time, baby,” billie reassured you after each term, her voice a steady anchor. the more you spoke, the clearer everything became. it wasn’t as hard as it seemed when you were on your own, surrounded by the chaos. with billie by your side, it didn’t feel so insurmountable.

finally, you moved into the last subject, and your body relaxed into billie’s arms. she kissed your forehead again, this time with a softness that spoke of comfort and care. “rest, sweet girl,” she murmured, her voice low and soothing. “your work isn’t going anywhere. i promise.”

taglist: @amara-eilish @bilswifee @iamnicoke @eloiseluvsbillie | send me an ask if you want to be added or removed from my taglist!

[theonottsbxtch]

describing the drivers’ eyes poetically.

the other day i saw a picture of lando’s eye and i described it and people loved it and some people asked for more and i had no eye photos so i couldn’t BUT ALAS f1 has come to the rescue and posted all their eyes! (starting to think f1 admin is on tumblr) here we go this has been done over the course of a few days so i hope you enjoy x

carlos sainz

a tempest of amber and chestnut swirls within the iris, a molten galaxy reflecting hidden depths. encased in the inky embrace of dark lashes, it glows with an almost unearthly luminance, catching the glint of electric blue - a whispered secret of the night. each blood-kissed vein upon the sclera tells a story, a silent sonnet of wakeful dreams. and above, the bold arch of an untamed brow stands like a sentinel, guarding this portal to the soul.

alex albon

a quiet fire lingers within this gaze, where the warmth of ember-red meets the cool hush of midnight blue. light bends and shatters upon the glassy surface, painting stories of neon reflections and whispered city dreams. the iris, deep and knowing, holds secrets wrapped in flickers of electric glow, a window to both wonder and melancholy. framed by the soft curve of a furrowed brow, it watches the world with quiet intensity-half in shadow, half in light, ever caught between reality and reverie.

lance stroll

a smouldering ember of amber and oak, this eye holds the quiet weight of unsung tales. hints of emerald light flicker within its depths, casting an eerie glow, as though the world itself is reflected in its silent vigil. encased by a bold, untamed brow and fringed with dark lashes, it watches with an unyielding curiosity. lines of experience crease the skin below, whispering of time’s gentle passage, each mark a testament to moments lived and remembered.

yuki tsunoda

a midnight pool, deep and endless, glistening with the hush of secrets untold. reflections dance upon its obsidian surface, moonlit whispers woven in liquid gold. a sentinel framed by silken lashes, watching worlds both near and far, shadowed by the hush of twilight, a lone and silent guiding star.

isack hadjar

this eye is a dark mirror, deep and reflective, holding the quiet weight of unspoken thoughts. its inky depths seem almost endless, absorbing the soft glow of distant lights like a midnight sea catching fleeting stars. encased by delicate lashes, it watches with an intensity that feels both knowing and mysterious, a silent observer in the hush of blue-lit twilight. the smooth curve of the brow above stands like a guardian, shaping the gaze with quiet strength. there is something haunting in its stillness, as if it carries the echoes of a story waiting to be told.

george russell

this eye is a frozen galaxy, its iris a swirl of blue and green, fractured by the reflection of distant light. there is an electricity in its gaze, a quiet intensity that seems to pierce through the veil of the present, searching for something beyond sight. the intricate web of lashes, dark against the cool glow of the skin, frames it like the delicate edges of frost on winter glass. each subtle detail-the fine lines, the sharp glint of the pupil-whispers of depth, of curiosity, of a story written in fleeting glances and unsaid words. it is an eye that sees not just the world, but the unseen spaces in between.

jack doohan

this eye is a universe unto itself, a stormy sea of blue laced with intricate, ice-like fractures that radiate from the dark abyss of its pupil—a black hole pulling in secrets and light alike. swirling within its depths are echoes of distant galaxies, constellations trapped beneath the delicate shimmer of its surface. framed by bold lashes and a shadowed brow, it exudes an intensity that feels almost otherworldly, as if gazing through it might reveal hidden realms beyond human sight. the neon glow of purple light kisses the skin, adding to the cosmic allure, turning this eye into a portal-a celestial mystery waiting to be explored.

gabriel bortoletto

this eye is a cosmic rift, a swirling nebula of deep green and shadow, as if the essence of an untamed forest or an alien world has been captured within its depths. the iris shimmers with hidden dimensions, fragments of light bending and refracting like the glow of distant stars caught in the event horizon of its dark pupil. evey reflection dances across its surface like signals from an unknown galaxy, an unspoken message waiting to be deciphered. framed by a bold brow and lashes that cast delicate shadows, it radiates an enigmatic intensity, made all the more ethereal by the neon green light that bathes the skin. it feels less like an eye and more like a portal-an invitation to step beyond the ordinary and into the vast unknown.

max verstappen

this eye is a cosmic storm, a swirling fusion of cool blues and burning reds, as if the birth of a star has been captured within its gaze. the iris, a fractured ice field, reflects the universe in miniature, with distant neon lights shimmering like celestial bodies caught in its gravitational pull. shadows and highlights dance across the surface, shifting like the aurora borealis on an endless night. encased by a bold brow and delicate lashes, it holds an intensity that feels both electric and infinite, as though staring into it might reveal the fabric of time itself. bathed in the glow of violet and crimson, it is less an eye and more a gateway-an uncharted galaxy waiting to be explored.

oscar piastri

a deep ember glows within this eye, rich with hues of molten bronze and flickering gold, as if harbouring the last light of a setting sun. encircled by dark lashes, delicate yet resolute, it gazes with quiet intensity, a window to unseen depths of thought and feeling. the brow, bold and well-defined, arches above like the crest of a distant hill, framing the eye with quiet strength. there is warmth in the skin, kissed by firelight, lending a softness that contrasts with the unwavering sharpness of the gaze. it is an eye that speaks-of secrets kept, of dreams half-formed, of stories yet untold.

lando norris (again)

a tempest stirs within this eye, where stormy blues and silvery greys collide like waves beneath a moonlit sky. threads of gold flicker at its heart, tiny sunbursts in an ocean of shifting light. the dark lashes, long and feathered, cast fleeting shadows, framing the gaze with an air of quiet mystery. above, the bold arch of the brow speaks of intensity, of thoughts that run deep and untamed. thre is a coolness here, a glacial beauty softened by the warm glow that kisses the skin, as if fire and ice have met in perfect harmony. this is an eye that sees beyond-an eye that knows.

esteban ocon

drenched in the glow of neon light, this eye is a portal to a world caught between shadow and illusion. deep and enigmatic, its inky darkness reflects the fractured gleam of artificial brilliance, as if it holds the city’s restless pulse within its depths. the lashes, slightly weary, frame the gaze with an almost haunted allure, while the bold arch of the brow stands as a sentinel of unspoken thoughts. crimson and electric blue spill across the skin, painting it with the hues of twilight reveries and sleepless nights. this is the eye of a wanderer, a dreamer, a soul lingering at the edge of the unknown.

liam lawson

a storm of colour brews within this eye, where twilight meets the embers of a fading sun. shades of indigo and crimson dance upon the delicate skin, as though kissed by neon dreams and whispered secrets of the night. the iris, a portal to untold stories, reflects the glow of distant worlds, flickering like a candle in the grasp of a gentle wind. beneath the weight of a furrowed brow, it watches-silent yet knowing-drinking in the light, absorbing the mystery of all it beholds.

taglist: @lilorose25 @curseofhecate @number-0-iz @dozyisdead @dragonfly047 @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @sluttyharry30 @n0vazsq @carlossainzapologist @iamred-iamyellow @iimplicitt @driverlando @chilling-seavey

[tigerpearlsworld]

Pick a card

( Why are you stuck? )

Before you choose a pile, take a moment to breathe deeply and connect with your intuition. This is a general pick-a-card reading, where the universe's infinite energies align with your path to bring you the guidance you need. Know that you can only choose one pile. The message you receive is not just for you to resonate with, but for you to realize in time as the truth unfolds in your journey. To truly receive your message, you must follow your heart’s instinct, not your expectations. Look beyond the surface and see what your soul is trying to reveal to you. How to Choose Your Card: Breathe in deeply. Breathe out slowly. Light a candle or incense, and clear your mind. Meditate on the beating of your heart, allowing your thoughts to flow naturally. Let go of doubts, and trust what your heart is guiding you towards. Close your eyes, visualize a light forming in your heart, and feel its pull.

When you open your eyes, choose the image that your heart calls to the most. A Final Message for You: Your heart is your guide, not your mind. Surrender to the wisdom that lies within you.

To those who are seeking answers about love, fate, and destiny, I send my prayers to the stars to bless you with clarity, strength, and the energy to embrace your path.

May you receive what you are meant to know.

Choose the pile :

Pile 1: Crow

Pile 2: Serpent

Pile 3: Bear

Pile 4: Deer

The reading starts. . .

Pile 1:

Words which were coming for you as I start the reading are as follows:

(Turbulence, Awakening, Overthinking, Independence, Validation, Direction, Clarity, Release, Movement, Transformation)

Vibes: Trusting your instinct

Nakshatra: Swati

Cards: (Five of wands, Judgement, the chariot, three of cups)

The cards reveal a journey filled with inner conflict, external pressures, and a deep need for self-discovery. There is an undeniable force pushing you toward transformation, yet resistance and overthinking seem to be keeping you in place.

you are caught in a web of conflict, competition, and tension. Whether this is an external battle with people around you or an internal one within yourself, there is a constant struggle preventing you from stepping forward. You may feel like you have to fight to be heard, prove yourself, or navigate chaotic circumstances. But at the same time You are being called to rise, to see the truth, and to step into a new phase of existence. However, you might be hesitating, afraid to let go of the past or unsure of what lies ahead. There is an inner knowing that you are meant for more, yet the weight of past decisions, karma, or expectations is holding you back.

I see you have potential, the drive to move forward and the ability to take charge of your life, but right now, you might feel pulled in multiple directions. There may be external influences, expectations, or doubts about the right path. Your spirit wants to move forward, but something keeps you feeling trapped in indecision. I also see that friendships, social circles, or external influences may be playing a bigger role than you realize. Perhaps you are trying to please others, fit into a specific group, or meet certain expectations that are no longer aligned with your truth. You might also be surrounded by people who distract you from your deeper purpose or contribute to cycles of stagnation.

Hmm.... Also as this pile got swati nakshatra. So your connection to Swati Nakshatra reveals an intense desire for freedom, independence, and personal growth. However, you may feel restricted, confused, or lacking clear direction. Swati's energy is about movement and self-discovery, but if you feel confined by societal expectations, family pressure, or limiting beliefs, it can create deep frustration. There is a yearning to explore, to break free, and to find your own path.

Why are you unhappy?

It probably stems from feeling mentally exhausted from overthinking and emotionally frustrated by stagnation. You are searching for clarity, direction, and purpose, but your own mind is creating barriers to forward movement.

Now as you also chose the Crow as your pile it something to say:

The Crow Caws with great intelligence, heightened perception, and deep wisdom. However, this also suggests a tendency to overanalyze, overthink, and see too many perspectives at once. You may be constantly questioning your choices, doubting your intuition, or trying to make sense of everything before taking action. This cycle of analysis drains your energy and keeps you mentally stuck, rather than allowing you to flow naturally.

So the message I have for you is Trust your inner voice You already sense the truth within, but doubt and fear are keeping you from embracing it. Stop waiting for perfect clarity—take action, and clarity will follow. Trust that you don’t need all the answers to move forward.

A song which came for you:

Pile 2:

Words which were coming for you as I start the reading are as follows:

(Temptation, illusion, control, obsession, discontent, attachment, healing, expression, release, frustration, transformation)

Vibes: Letting go of control and fear of loss

Nakshatra: Ashlesha

Cards: (The devil, Four of cups, Four of pentacles, two of cups)

The card reveals a powerful struggle with attachment, emotional stagnation, and a deep inner conflict surrounding relationships and self-worth. You may be caught in cycles of control, dissatisfaction, or unresolved emotional wounds that prevent you from moving forward. You are stuck because you are holding onto something that needs to be released, whether it’s emotional wounds, toxic connections, or limiting beliefs. You are unhappy because your heart and soul crave deep healing, expression, and emotional fulfillment, yet fear or stagnation is keeping you in place.

you are chained to something unhealthy whether it be toxic habits, relationships, fear, limiting beliefs. There may be temptations, unhealthy attachments, or cycles of self-sabotage that you feel unable to break free from. This could be an obsessive thought,person,pattern, an unhealthy emotional connection, or materialistic fears holding you back. I see you may feel emotionally unfulfilled, bored, or disconnected from life. Opportunities for change may be presenting themselves, but you struggle to recognize them or feel indifferent toward them.

There is this feeling where I feel that though nothing truly excites or motivates you anymore.... Tbh.

There is this fear of starting something new again and like um... Fear? Ye fear of letting go, losing control, or stepping into the unknown. You may be holding onto security, comfort zones, or old patterns that no longer serve you because the fear of change feels greater than the discomfort of staying stuck.

I sense that there is this relationship maybe romantic or maybe not but a significant relationship nonetheless which has a very strong grip on you and like this particular relationship plays this crucial role in this stagnation of yours. There may be an unresolved emotional connection, a fear of vulnerability, or a struggle with balance and reciprocity in partnerships. Whether it’s holding onto the past, fearing intimacy, or feeling disconnected from true emotional fulfillment, your heart is weighed down by emotional struggles that keep you from fully embracing love and harmony. I feel pain. There is also this feeling of abuse I feel like I don't know why.... I feel my heart beating fast and getting uncomfortable. I feel so much pain you have kept inside you.

Hm...... Also as this pile for Ashlesha nakshtra (the clingy one or the entwined) I'm not even surprise tbh.... This feeling of abuse and pain I was feeling no wonder. I feel you may have a controlling mother or an abusive father. I also for some see childhood abuse and sexual harrasment from someone close to you someone you trusted. *sigh* I feel this trauma you carry with you. You're introverted or maybe once you were an extrovert but then you became an introvert. I feel you sometimes get blinded from your sensitivity and at that time you try to isolate and escape and when you can't you become very defensive and toxic. I feel that even though you have love in your heart but you hurt the people you love. Your words can heal or put poison in any person or situation. Now coming back to this nakshatra it reveals a deep, intense, and transformative emotional nature. You have a powerful ability to see beyond illusions, but this gift can also bring emotional turmoil, possessiveness, or internal battles. There may be a fear of betrayal, trust issues, or emotional entanglements that leave you feeling trapped.

There is alot of violence I am feeling towards this pile.

Why are you unhappy?

Your unhappiness comes from an inability to fully release emotional baggage, fears surrounding intimacy and trust, and feeling disconnected from your own creative and emotional flow.

Now as you also chose the serpent as your pile it has something to say:

The serpent comes with great hidden treasure, wisdom, healing emotional wounds, expressing desires, and reclaiming personal power. However, when this energy is blocked.....emotions stagnate, creativity is suppressed, and relationships feel restrictive rather than liberating. You may feel that your emotions are not being fully expressed, or that there are wounds from the past that need deep healing.

So the message I have for you is Recognize what is keeping you chained whether it’s a toxic habit, relationship, or mindset. Break free from limiting attachments. Step into your power by setting boundaries, cutting ties where necessary, and embracing change. Also again Let go of control and fear of loss: You need to surrender.... Because Fear of change and holding onto the past is keeping you in a cycle of emotional, physical and spiritual stagnation.

(Also side note but I feel a call to tell you that for some of you... You need sacral chakra cleansing and healing.... Because I feel it has alot of trauma and may also be the reason why you're stuck. )

A song which came for you:

Pile 3:

Words which were coming for you as I start the reading are as follows:

(Isolation, reflection, tradition, heartache, detachment, longing, resistance, stagnation, awakening, renewal)

Vibes: Taking small steps at a time

Nakshatra: Rohini

Cards: (The hermit, The hierophant, three of swords, eight of cups)

The card reveals you're in a state of withdrawal and contemplation, trying to make sense of past experiences and emotional pain. Your soul is seeking clarity, but stagnation and fear of change may be keeping you trapped in a cycle of emotional heaviness. I feel for some this emotional heaviness can also lead to you gaining weight... Food disorder is also coming strongly. Maybe some of you have eating issues or in a way you have this broken view of looking at your body in a distorted way where you feel pain? Idk.... There is too much happening but for some maybe pain.

I see you were seeking answers some deep important questions but I see that questions may have led you on this journey of isolation or emotional withdrawal. You may feel that no one truly understands what you are going through, and as a result, you prefer to navigate this alone. I also see you may have been following a path that has been dictated by external influences whether it be family, culture, or societal norms rather than listening to your own inner voice.

I also see you are in pain and this pain that you feel deep inside stems from a past relationship, a betrayal, or an experience that left you feeling deeply hurt. Instead of moving forward, you may be holding onto this pain, replaying it in your mind, or struggling to fully heal from it. I also feel that deep inside you know the situation is over and you need to move forward but there is this fear, attachment, or unresolved emotions which might be preventing you from fully letting go. You know that you need to leave behind what is weighing you down, but something is keeping you from taking that final step.

Now coming to your nakshatra you got Rohini the nakshatra with the power of Rohan to grow for some reason this reminds me of Lord of the rings lol.... Maybe some of you are nerds or geeks it's kk^^ Rohini Nakshatra suggests that desire, attachment, and longing for emotional fulfillment and I think that plays a huge role in your unhappiness. Rohini is known for its deep sensuality, creativity, and emotional intensity, but when unfulfilled, it can lead to feelings of dissatisfaction, possessiveness, or longing for something that feels just out of reach. You may feel like you are seeking something greater whether it’s love, purpose, or self-expression but you haven’t yet found it.

Why are you unhappy?

Your unhappiness comes from feeling disconnected from your desires, struggling to heal from emotional wounds, and being stuck in a cycle of contemplation without action.

Now as you also chose the Bear as your pile it has something to say:

The bear usually comes with great awakening from a deep slumber and in your case it should represents awakening, transformation, and the journey toward enlightenment but for some reason this energy is not aligning even though you chose it. I feel that most of you choosing this are in the stagnant or hibernation energy of the bear not moving at all maybe physically, emotionally, mentally or spiritually but I strongly feel that. There is alot of lethargy and deep sense of yawning and just sleeping lol. But in deep seriousness if you let this energy of hibernation and lethargy continue then soon you will feel the ill effects of the bear card which usually comes as : resistance to change, lack of movement, and emotional heaviness. You may feel drained, exhausted, or stuck in a period of deep emotional hibernation, unable to take action toward growth.

So the message I have for you is Re-emerge from Isolation because while introspection is valuable, it’s important to start engaging with the world again. Begin by seeking meaningful connections, engaging in activities that bring joy, and allowing yourself to feel alive again. Break free from external conditioning tbh... Like Challenge belief systems, traditions, or societal expectations that are keeping you stuck. Instead of following a path out of obligation, ask yourself what truly resonates with your soul. And last but not least take small steps towards movement and growth your energy is very very very much stagnant, and physical movement can help break this cycle. My advice engage in exercise, creative expression, or any activity that brings vitality back into your life. For some of you music and acting can be a great way of expression.

A song which came for you:

Pile 4:

Words which were coming for you as I start the reading are as follows:

(Incompletion, balance, logic, decision, detachment, restlessness, control, nurturing, courage, completion)

Vibes: Trusting the unknown

Nakshatra: Ashwini

Cards: (The world in reverse, two of pentacles, king of swords, the lovers)

The card reveals you feel like you are constantly juggling responsibilities, relationships, or personal struggles, but something remains unresolved. There is this deep sense of incompleteness, indecision and emotional detachment.

There is this sense for you that something is missing in your life. You might feel like you are on the verge of success or fulfillment but unable to grasp it. There could be fear of closure, reluctance to move on, or external circumstances keeping you from achieving completion. You may also feel overwhelmed, stretched thin, or constantly balancing between choices. This could be related to work-life balance, relationships, or an internal struggle between what you desire and what is expected of you.

I feel that you're someone with a great rational mindset, but perhaps at the cost of emotional connection. There could be difficulty expressing emotions or making decisions that involve vulnerability. You might be relying too much on intellect and not enough on intuition and feeling. Or maybe you try to rationalize what you feel or just put brain into things of heart alot.

I also can see you may be facing a difficult decision in love, struggling with commitment, or feeling disconnected from your emotions. There is this internal battle between the heart and the mind- About what you truly want Vs what seems practical or logical. Like I said Brain vs Heart.

Now coming to your nakshatra you got Ashwini ...this nakshatra is ruled by ketu and mars. So naturally it suggests you have a strong desire for action, movement, and independence. However, when this energy is blocked, it can lead to restlessness, impatience, and frustration. You may feel like you are ready for change, but something is holding you back from taking the leap. There could be a fear of commitment, a resistance to settling down, or a need for personal freedom that clashes with your current circumstances. You're so a natural healer just so yk^^

Why are you unhappy?

Your unhappiness stems from feeling stuck in an incomplete cycle, struggling with decisions, and feeling disconnected from your emotional self.

Now as you chose the Deer as your pile it has something to say:

The deer graces us with the power of intuition,gentleness, devotion, and the openness to emotional connection. But when blocked reinforces themes of emotional detachment, overprotectiveness, or a lack of nurturing energy. you may be feeling guarded, overly analytical, or struggling to trust in love and relationships. There could be a fear of vulnerability, causing you to withdraw rather than embrace emotional support. Call upon the deer for help when struggling with your heart as it will help with its gentle guidance. For your heart to open and heal connect with nature and children in general it may help.

Now for the message I have for you is Recognize that certain cycles need to be completed before you can move forward. Stop delaying necessary endings or avoiding difficult decisions. Also Instead of juggling too many responsibilities, focus on what truly matters to you. And like try to rebalance your energy by setting boundaries and making time for personal healing. reconnect with your emotional side rather than relying solely on logic. And most importantly Logic alone will not solve emotional matters. Allow yourself to feel and express emotions. If you are avoiding a choice in love or relationships, face it honestly.

A song which came for you

[astra-ravana]

Witch's Marks

Throughout history, certain bodily features, marks, and signs have been associated with witchcraft. Some were used as evidence in witch trials, while others are esoteric indicators of magickal potential. This guide explores birthmarks, scars, deformities, palmistry signs, and other physical features believed to mark someone as a witch.

The Devil’s Mark (Historical Accusations)

During European and Colonial American witch trials, interrogators searched for "witch marks"—signs that a person had made a pact with the Devil. These included:

• Birthmarks, moles, or skin discolorations – Believed to be "kissed" or marked by spirits.

• Unusual scars – Especially if they did not bleed or were insensitive to pain.

• Extra nipples or "witch's teat" – Supposedly used to nurse familiars or demons.

• Cold or unbleeding spots – Accused witches were pricked with needles; if they didn’t bleed, it was considered proof of guilt.

• Webbed fingers or extra digits – Rare genetic traits mistaken for supernatural origins.

Many of these were simply natural bodily variations but were feared in times of witch hunts and superstition.

Birthmarks & Deformities (Signs of Magical Power)

In folklore, specific birthmarks were considered signs of innate witchery or past-life connections to magick:

• Crescent Moon Birthmark – A birthmark in the shape of a moon was thought to indicate a connection to lunar magick and intuition.

• Pentagram or Star-shaped Marks – Rare but sometimes reported, believed to signify natural protection and spiritual insight.

• Heart-shaped Birthmarks – Associated with love magick and emotional sensitivity.

• Red or Wine-Colored Marks (Port-Wine Stains) – In some cultures, these were seen as marks of a fire-witch or one chosen by spirits.

• Marks on the Hands or Feet – A birthmark on the palm was believed to give heightened intuition.

• Eye Discoloration (Heterochromia or Unusual Eyes) – Seen as a sign of second sight or fae lineage.

Palmistry Indicators of a Witch

Palmistry holds many signs that indicate a natural witch, healer, or mystic. The most significant ones include:

• The Mystic Cross or Secret Cross(X Between Heart & Head Lines) – A powerful mark of psychic ability and magickal talent.

• Psychic Crosses - Potent psychic ability, blessed by the planets at birth.

• The Healer’s Mark (Multiple Vertical Lines on the Mercury Mount) – Found on those gifted in energy work, spellcraft, and healing.

• The Conjure Mark - A star mark under the ring finger that indicates special talents in magick and spiritual favor.

• The Mystic M - 'M' shaped lines that indicate heightened intuition and mystical abilities.

• The Ring of Solomon (A Semi-circle Under the Index Finger) – Indicates a deep understanding of occult wisdom and esoteric arts.

• The Deep Cross - An inverted cross that symbolizes cleverness, trickiness, luck, and a connection to the crossroads.

• The Psychic Triangle - Indicator of strong psychic abilities.

• The Fate Line Merging with the Life Line – Shows a destiny closely tied to magick and spirituality.

• Astral Travel Lines - Indicator of ability to transcend time and space.

• The Debtor's Mark - Indicates a generational curse, appears as an 'X' on the thumb.

• A Star on the Mount of Moon (Near the Base of the Palm) – Indicates prophetic dreams, intuition, and a connection to spirits.

• Curved or Clawed Index Finger – Called the "witch’s finger", symbolizing strong will and magickal power.

• Unusual Fingernail Shapes – Some traditions claim long, almond-shaped, or black-ridged nails indicate magickal energy.

Facial & Eye Features of a Witch

Certain facial traits were thought to reveal innate magickal abilities:

• Different Colored Eyes (Heterochromia) – Considered a sign of foresight or fae ancestry.

• Deep-Set or Piercing Eyes – Often linked to hypnotic power and psychic perception.

• Naturally Arched or "Fox-Like" Eyebrows – Some folklore says this reveals a cunning or spellcasting nature.

• A Widow’s Peak Hairline – In some cultures, a widow’s peak was seen as a sign of powerful intuition.

Other Supernatural Bodily Features

• Toes of Equal Length (Greek Foot) – Thought to be a mark of spiritual leaders, witches, or powerful souls.

• Long or Slender Fingers – Associated with energy manipulation and spellcasting.

• Naturally Cold Hands – In some traditions, this was seen as a sign of spirit sensitivity.

• Naturally White or Silver Hair (Young Age) – Seen as a sign of wisdom beyond one's years and magical lineage.

• Unusual Hair Growth Patterns – Some cultures believed a single streak of white hair indicated past-life magic use.

• Unusually Pale or Unnaturally Dark Skin (Relative to Ancestry) – In folklore, extreme contrast in skin tone was thought to mark those "touched" by magic.

Scars & Witch Marks from Rituals

Some witches intentionally mark themselves with scars, tattoos, or ritual wounds as signs of initiation, devotion, or power. These include:

• Self-Carved Sigils or Runes – Done in blood magic or personal empowerment rituals.

• Burn Marks (Fire Walkers or Flame-Proof Witches) – Some traditions claim that a witch initiated into fire magic might have a burn-resistant patch of skin.

• Scars from Spiritual Battles or Shamanic Trials – Found in spirit workers and energy healers, especially in Indigenous traditions.

While historical witch marks were often used to persecute and harm innocent people, many esoteric traditions still recognize certain physical signs as indicators of magical gifts. Whether birthmarks, palmistry signs, or deliberate markings, these features connect people to the ancient mystical heritage of witchcraft.

Do you have any of these witch marks? Many believe that discovering such features can be a sign of magical potential, past-life witchcraft, or a deep connection to the unseen world.

[novthewolf]

HII IS THIS A NEW BLOG ur theme is so cute giggles 💕💕

*drops request about jinx w a fem or gn reader doing her hair*

Knotted hair, knotted mind

(Thank you very much anon ! ^^)

Pairing : Jinx x GN!Reader

Masterlist : Here

Warnings : foul language, depiction of schizophrenia, english isn't my first language.

Words : +1,3K

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The huge metal structure groaned the more footsteps you took. You hated it here for the sole reason that it was incredibly deadly, and you didn't trust your feet to not betray you and make you fall to your death.

But for Jinx, you were more than willing to face your fears. Once again, she suffered from a breakdown in the middle of a mission, and the moment you got back to the headquarters, she bolted towards her room.

"Jinx ?" You call out, only to be answered by the echo of your own voice. Taking baby steps across the bridge, your eyes scanned the whole room. She could literally be anywhere. Really, she never ceased to amaze you, but this time, you just hoped she didn't hide away.

The deep void was pulling your eyes down towards it. A stream of curses targeted at your brain poured out of your mouth. Thankfuly, you could see the clumped counter in the centre of the giant room coming further. You rushed the last steps and totally leaned on Jinx's workshop, some of her makeeries falling to the ground. "We should really put fences around here." You whined.

A struggling sob resonated within the terrifying open space. Your eyes shot up, and you searched for your friend. She sat there across, her deeply blue hair totally discoloured on her head, as she pulled on it with concerning hatred. You gasped audibly and rushed to her side.

Kneeling down beside her, you hushed her to scout away from the edge of the plateform. Normaly, she wouldn't risk anything, but in her state, you didn't want to tempt the devil. You tilted your head to catch the expression on her face. "Jinx ?"

In the depths of her crisis, Jinx's expression was a haunting portrait of anguish and confusion. Her eyes, once bright and full of life, now mirrored the chaos swirling within her mind, haunted by unseen spectres and twisted visions. Lines of tension etched her brow, and her lips trembled with unspoken words, unable to articulate the torment raging within her soul.

Each fleeting emotion flickered across her face like shadows dancing in the dim light. Though her features were drawn and haggard, there remained a flicker of resilience in her gaze, a glimmer of hope amidst the storm that raged within her.

"Jinx, hey, listen to me." Her eyes snapped to yours, tears falling down her 

As the shadows of evening draped themselves over the room, you sat beside Jinx, whose once bright blue eyes were now clouded with fear and confusion. Her hands trembled as she clutched her long hair, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

With a gentle touch, you reached out, her hand finding Jinx's quivering shoukder, offering a silent anchor amidst the storm raging within yourriend's mind.

"I'm here, Jinx." You murmured softly, your voice a soothing balm against the tumultuous backdrop of young women's thoughts.

Jinx struggled to make sense of the fragmented and distorted whispers of her dead family that echoed in her mind. But you remained steadfast by her side, a beacon of unwavering support in the darkness.

"You're here too. Just you and me." With patience born of love and understanding, you guided her through the labyrinth of her own thoughts.

Together, you navigated the turbulent currents of Jinx's inner world, untangling the threads of reality from the tangled web of hallucinations and delusions.

"I didn't mean to fuck it up... I-It's just those fu-fucking blue firework thingies !" She gestured violently, and you had to duck your head to avoid getting slapped in the face.

"I understand... We should have been more careful. But we made it back; we're here. You are here." You smiled softly, not meeting her eyes, knowing it would only overwhelm her more.

She exhaled loudly and threw her head back, her legs bouncing rapidly. In the quiet sanctuary of your shared presence, you became the blue-haired lifeline, anchoring her to the present moment and gently guiding her towards the light. With each passing moment, the storm began to subside, and a sense of calm descended upon the room like a gentle rain after a tempest. Her small hands finally let go of her long hair and slid down her sides.

You felt her calm down gently, her eyes finally meeting yours. Your caring smile reassured me immensely. After her sister had abandoned her, Jinx kept seeking that loving and patient presence she lacked. Silco offered her the patience and structure she needed, but you brought her the unconditional understanding she craved. Something that could actually help her untangle her mind when the voices came nagging.

She hummed when your fingers brushed through her hair, smiling when she heard you chuckle. "Your hair is all messy..."

Jinx rolled her eyes but looked down bashfully. "Do you want me to brush them?" You offer quietly. The last thing you wanted was to cross her boundaries, though you knew she deeply enjoyed your touches and care.

"Okay." She nodded.

"Okay." You mirrored with a soft smile. Standing up, you offered her your hand, which she gadly took. You guided her towards her work table and sat her down on the chair.

You sat behind Jinx, who still bore the remnants of the storm that had ravaged her mind. With tender care, you began to gently comb through her tangled blue locks, her touch as light as a feather against Jinx's scalp. You put extra care into not pulling her hair or the knots in them.

"Can I braid your hair ?" You whispered softly, your voice a soothing melody in the stillness of the room. She nodded wordlessly, her eyes flickering with a mixture of gratitude and exhaustion, her head tilting back, leaning into your touch.

As you deftly wove Jinx's hair into intricate plaits, the tension that had gripped her features began to melt away, replaced by a sense of calm and tranquility.With each twist and turn of the braid, your fingers worked their magic, creating a rhythmic dance that seemed to lull your friend into a state of peaceful surrender.

As the braid took shape, you spoke in hushed tones, sharing stories and memories from their shared past, each word a gentle caress against Jinx's troubled soul.

"I was terrified of heights as a kid... well, still are." You chuckled, continuing the long braids, her hair seeming endless. "Which is, y'know, quite practical when you live in a city with mostly flying structures." Your joke earned a small giggle from her.

With each tale, the invisible barriers that had separated them began to dissolve, replaced by a sense of intimacy and connection that transcended the confines of their physical surroundings. And as you secured the final knot of the braid, Jinx's beautiful blue eyes fluttered open, her gaze meeting yours with a newfound sense of clarity and gratitude. In that fleeting moment, as they sat entwined in each other's presence.

You blushed slightly as you made her chair spin around. "There. Even prettier than before, I didn't think it could be possible." You winked, trying to come out confident.

She scoffed half-heartedly and nudged your leg with her own. Her gaze dazed at her inventions lying around. "Thanks for being there for me." She couldn't meet your eyes, but her voice carried all the thankfulness she felt.

You chuckled breathlessly and caressed her soft skin with your knuckles. "It's nothing, love. I got your back." Her cheeks heated up at your words, and she played with the newly braided hair.

As the night wore on, you remained vigilant by Jinx's side, offering comfort and companionship until the first light of dawn. From this moment on, she knew that no matter how fierce the storm raged within her, you would always be there to guide her and brush her worries away.

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[whosdinkleyhenderson]

His Confession - L.P

Reader's guide:

MUST BE 18 AND OVER TO READ!

80s! Demonic Possession 

TW: Swearing, mentions of suicide, devil worshiping and demonic possession

Please don't read this if you don't like this type of content. 

The headphones rested against her ears. Music soundly playing drowned out the atmosphere around her. Y/N's younger brother, Daniel, had been worrying about her, hiding his worries through comedic acts. Believing they would help her cope. Deep within his soul he knew she wasn’t fine, the bright smile that would rest along her lips, yet never reached her eyes like it used to. Everyone knew, strangers knew, animals knew but they all played along. Whenever asked about it, she would play it off, saying that she was fine and there was nothing to worry about. But the emotion inside stayed hidden from him and the outside world. 

The one-year anniversary of the events that took place last year, were less than an hour away. Marking the night of his death. She still blames herself, for listening to other people’s advice. And taking that damn job.

“Oh dear, he’s just going through teenage boy problems.”

“Don’t be silly love, you have nothing to worry about.”

"Oh, come on dear...I'll pay you double."

Telling her, she had nothing to worry about, but she did, oh how she did. Recalling the countless times, she’d hear his screams in the background when she would call. His father answering every time. Especially the night where it all crumbled, the night that forever haunts everyone. That haunts her, and her soul.

“Please, Mr Pullman…Please. Let me see him.”

She cringed at the sound of her own voice.

“I’m sorry Y/N. But Lewis can’t come to the…” A blood curdling scream came through the receiver.

“What was that?” She waited, but the sound of the phone dropping shot panic in her.

“Lewis! Lewis… Carrie? Fuck! Hold on son. Fuck! CARRIE!”

“Honey, what is it…OMG LEWIS! MY BABY! JIM HELP HIM!”

“Mr Pullman? Sir…someone please answer the phone.” She sobbed hearing the chaotic screams of Mr and Mrs Pullman, along with Lewis'.

“No…no. Breath… I’m okay…I’m okay.”

Feeling the dread of emotions resurface Y/N turned to the letter on the coffee table. Her name resting on top of the envelope in Anya handwriting. She hesitantly reached forward. Y/N had a feeling she knew what was in that letter. Did she though? There were a million of thoughts pondering through her mind. Anya could have written about how much she hated her. Or how she wished Y/N would have helped her twin brother, Lewis. It was too much to bear, too much to come to terms with. She didn’t mean to distant herself from everyone and Lewis' family. She truly didn’t.

The build-up of emotion was too much to deal with, and in her right mind she did what she thought was best. To shut everything around her out.

From the other side of the room, sitting in between Luke and Mason. Daniel ignored Luke’s instructions; his eyes glued to his sister. The group planned to go to where Lewis' death too place to see if they could contact his spirit.

The only person being fully on board with this ludicrous idea, was Anya. Going as far as to search the dark web for a Quija board.

His blue eyes squinted at her every move. He watched from the way her unsteady fingers fumble to open her Walkman, to how she breathed as she placed the cassette inside.

As she pressed play, the letter was back in her grasp. Her eyes flickered gently, taking in every word on the paper. The display of emotion going unnoticed to everyone but him. What was in that letter! Better yet what was on that tape?

The tears were burning her e/c irises, screaming to escape. But not a single drop fell. She couldn’t believe her eyes. In Lewis' handwriting was his last letter to her, before his death. With a deep breath she pressed play and soon his sweet deep voice began to speak to her.

Y/N.

I don't know how long I’ve got, before that thing comes back. I'll try my best to explain everything.

About two months ago, I went to one of my mates Uni parties and I met this girl. She seemed nice at first...hell she reminded me a lot of you. God! How I miss you!

Before we left, she invited me and my mates to chill at her place. Have a few drinks, get to know each other. So, we all agreed to go, what harm could come?

We drove in their second hand 1970 Volkswagen Transporter, like the one my dad bought a year ago. Throughout the car ride I had this disturbing feeling in the pit of my gut. And when we finally rocked up, it was at this abandoned cinema. The place looked like it had been closed since the 50s.

There was a weird low frequency beat playing into the night. The girl took a hold of my hand and led me in.

I swear it was as if everything around me just disappeared and the only sound I could hear was the ‘music’. Not my mates calling out my name, screaming for me to stop. Nothing! I think I was being pulled into a trance.

She led me down this pitch-black corridor. Her grip becoming tighter each step we took. A dim light emitted in front of us, showing me her silhouette. She looked a little different. Her clothes had changed, and her nails began digging into my skin…And the last thing I remember was black hoods, a large marble slate, black candles and the vibration of that damn low sound.

I don't know what happened that night Y/N… I swear to God. I don't know.

I woke up in my mate’s bedroom, with this stinging feeling on my chest and back. When I went to look, I had these red jagged claw marks. I looked deathly pale.

From that night on I began having these weird dreams. Hearing deep voices in my room at night, and this dark figure standing in the corner of my room until one night... I found it sitting on my chest. And oh God the eyes on this thing! Y/N! It had these amber glowing eyes staring straight into my soul.

And it's teeth…God! I froze… I swear I was pissing myself…then it smiled. Magically opened my mouth and stuck its nails down my throat…IT FUCKING WENT INSIDE MY BODY.

All I felt was burning like my soul was being ripped apart. I had the sweats; hot flushes and I shat myself. I FUCKING SHAT MYSELF. I…I…I fell unconscious and woke up like nothing happened, but my mum knew. She noticed changes in me.

I would pass out and feel like I have been asleep for weeks or haven’t. I had no relocation of things my parents and Anya would say or ask. I couldn't continue this…this torture.

I'm sorry but I can't keep putting everyone through this. I can't live with this thing pretending to be me. Let it walk in my shoes, talk in my voice…Let it touch you.

That night of the party I wanted to ask you to be my girlfriend, it broke my heart when you said you had to work. But I couldn't stop you from doing that, it would’ve been selfish of me.

I'm sorry Y/N…I know you will forgive me. And one day will we see each other again.

I love you.

Lewis.

She stared at the last words written on the page. ‘I love you.’ He was in love with her. No, Lewis was her best friend. Her other half. Her… Y/N felt as if the world around became slow and heavy as the words sunk in. Craving themselves into her skin. The burning feeling returned, and her actions became frantic, she threw her Walkman across the room. And dropped to the floor hysterical. “I... I…No. NO! NO!”

Daniel jumped to her side; all the eyes were on the two siblings. “Hey. Hey, calm down. Y/N…Please calm down.”

Anya watched, in shock as the girl her brother loved, fell apart. Worry began to build in her chest, she had no idea what he had written. Or what he had recorded on that cassette. What he confessed. What he saw. Hell, left in the dark about her brother’s changes. Her parents sent her to her grandparents a month before things got worse. Lewis never wrote her a letter, only a phone call from her parents telling her she needed to come home for Lewis' funeral. She needed answers, and Anya was going to stop at nothing, even if it cost her, her soul.

“THAT IS ENOUGH! I'm getting and sick and tired of this. The more we wait the less time we’ll have to get to this fucking place.” She seethed.

Daniel continued to calm his sister. His eyes glaring at the red head in front of him.

“She’s right guys. If we want to be able to talk to Lewis, we’ll have to get going.” Luke tried his best to defuse the heated aura in the room. Without a word the two boys followed the read out the front door.

Sighing heavily Y/N ushed her brother out the door. “Go Daniel…I’ll be out in a minute…I just need to grab my Walkman…well whatever it’s gone.”

Daniel smiled a bit, knowing she wouldn’t take no for an answer. “Okay.”

As her brother left, Y/N picked up the now cracked Walkman and dumped it into her bag along with Lewis' letter. “If I hadn’t, chosen that damn babysitting job…You would still be here with us…with me.”

She made her way to the front door paused. She could have sworn, she heard the sweet melody of Tears for Fears, Head over heels, chorusplay. Her eyes scanned the home, one last time. The once bright walls, full of family photos now dark and dull. And the bedroom door at the end of hallway to be forever locked and kept away. Feeling the sting of tears, she dropped her head and closed the door.

Missing his ocean blue eyes.

“I love you my sweet Y/N.”

[auren-zagarra]

I've only read one work and I'm captivated. Seriously you have so much talent and I look forward to reading more!

For the request, could I please have top dom Jamil x a bottom sub male reader who's weak to Jamil's mean streak and that smirk of his.

For specific kinks please include bondage, praise kink, dirty talk, and a whole lot of possessiveness on Jamil's side (you cannot convince me a man with his specific breed of trauma doesn't have some kind of corruption kink)

ligatum ad amorem

Content Warning: Jamil x M!Reader, sex, BDSM, bondage, jelousy, power dynamic, a bit of a toxic relationship (?), MDNI

Characters Count: 8343

For anyone accustomed to serving, the dream was always the same: to one day be the one served on a silver platter, to be revered as if a deity, and, for once, to feel as though they held the reins of their own life - perhaps even someone else’s. Jamil knew deep down that true freedom would forever elude him as long as he remained a mere pawn in the AlAsim family. Yet, every time you were near, he would forget his place. The lines blurred, and for a fleeting moment, he imagined himself something more than a servant. Who could have imagined that Viper would be drawn to someone so insignificant as you, with your simplicity, a stark contrast to the royalty and aristocracy that roamed the halls of Night Raven College.

Perhaps, in your presence, he found a strange solace, a slight affirmation of his own worth. Or maybe it was something more - a twisted delight in your unflinching acceptance of his cruelty, a satisfaction in seeing how his sharp edges affected you. But why were you this way? Why did you lean into his cruel side - the side he kept carefully hidden from the rest of the world? There was something undeniably odd about you, something that both perplexed and intrigued him. You adored his flaws, finding true love in his bitterness. And the more you embraced his depravity, the more he couldn’t help but be captivated by your peculiar allure. You were a curious creature, dear - he simply found your degeneration fascinating.

You were ensnared in his web - both metaphorically and literally, physically. The most intense sensation of love you ever felt for him wasn’t found in gentle words or tender touches. No, it came when your hands were bound, tethered to the bed, your body at his mercy. It was in those moments of utter vulnerability that you felt the deepest connection, when your helplessness seemed to draw him closer, and yet, paradoxically, it made you feel more alive than you ever had before. His smile would be the catalyst, sending an electrifying shiver down your spine, each nerve alive with anticipation, making you feel both small and infinite, as if you were trapped in a power dynamic you couldn’t escape - or rather, didn’t want to.

"You look nice like this," the man said, his voice smooth, with a hint of amusement in his tone. A small grin tugged at the corners of his lips as he observed you, noticing how you shifted beneath the ropes that lightly marked your skin; “reminds me of a concubine”. The vice dorm warden’s gaze lingered on you, his eyes seemed to measure you, studying your every movement, as if searching for something only he could see. There was a certain mocking amusement in the way he looked at you, yet beneath it, there was something else - something harder to fully explain.

Jamil said nothing for a few moments, allowing the silence to stretch out, heavy with the tension of the situation. Finally, he reached out, his hand moving deliberately to cup your face. His fingers, firm but not unkind, gently guided your head up to meet his gaze. There was a quiet command in his touch, a subtle force that made you look at him, and only him. Then, he leaned in, and for a brief second, the world around you seemed to blur. His lips met yours. The moment lasted only a few seconds, but when he finally pulled away, the air between you felt thick with unspoken words - but actions communicated everything he needed to share with you, after all, if his hand reaching your dick wasn’t an obvious enough sign of his lust towards you, there wouldn’t exist any better way to request sex with you.

His skilled caresses ignited a flame of desire within you, each deliberate stroke making the fire higher until you were consumed by a desperate yearning for more of his ardent affections. Yet, just as you teetered on the feeling of ecstasy, Jamil paused, denying you the sweet relief you craved most. A  whimper escaped your lips, a silent begging for the blessed friction only he could provide. Could anyone truly blame Viper? After seeing you speak with countless others - especially Kalim - he couldn’t help but feel a surge of jealousy. It wasn’t that he believed you’d ever betray him, but there were times, late at night when his thoughts wandered, that he wished he could simply hide you away from the world. You were a treasure too precious to be shared. In those moments, all he wanted was to keep you as his alone, a secret meant only for his eyes. But of course, he knew he couldn’t let that possessive side of him take over completely, not in the light of day, not in the midst of their shared life. And so, he kept his longing in check. Yet, there were times when he would watch you, vulnerable and pleading, and in those rare moments, his heart would swell with a quiet pride. It was a sight only he would ever have the privilege of witnessing - a gift he cherished more than anything.

“Jamil?~ P-Please… it hurts. I need you…” you whimpered, your voice breaking through the fog of his thoughts and grounding him in the present. As his gaze fell upon you, his usual cruel smile curved onto his lips, sending a shiver down your spine. You couldn’t help but be drawn to the sight, captivated by the intensity in his eyes. In an instant, you were silenced by a kiss - ferocious, desperate. His hand gripped your chin, his fingers pressing hard as though he feared losing you, as though he needed to hold you in place, just for this moment. The world outside vanished, leaving only the two of you in the raw, burning silence of your need. With deliberate slowness, Jamil freed his member, presenting it to you like a tempting offering. “Do you want it?” he growled, his provocative tone daring you to indulge in the forbidden pleasure. 

Jamil's thick length slid home, filling you to the brink as he claimed your willing body. A sense of completeness washed over you, your soul's emptiness slowly replaced by waves of unholy rapture. Each stroke of his hips drove him deeper, stirring the sacred and profane into a heady mix of pleasure. Your toes curled, overwhelmed by the sinful bliss coursing through your veins. The stimulation of your prostate by his skilled cock had you teetering on the edge, your cries of ecstasy music to his ears. Jamil's nails dug into your skin, marking you with evidence of his ardent devotion - a record of the depth of his passion for your body. "Ah... yes, just like this," you breathed, lost in the intoxicating warmth of his touch, the holy and unholy blending into a transcendent whole. God may forgive us from all our sins, however, salvation wasn’t something you worried about when tasting this forbidden fruit with the man you loved the most.

His grayish eyes gleamed with a mixture of love and satisfaction, drinking in the sight of your unrestrained pleasure. The lewd sounds and expressive faces you wore only fueled his desire, his appreciation for your responsiveness bordering on obsession. Normally, he preferred his partners discreet, but your uninhibited reactions were just so hypnotizing, drawing him in deeper. He craved the strength of your passion, the way you melted under his touch, poised to erupt in a blaze of ecstasy at his slightest command. As he buried his face in the hollow of your neck, his seed flooded your depths, synchronizing perfectly with your own explosive climax. In that fleeting instant, your souls intertwined, beating as one in a rhythm of pure, unadulterated bliss. The connection was profound, a spiritual fusion that transcended the physical, leaving you both gasping for air due the intensity of such orgasmic sensation.

Both of you stared at each other, visions hazy, struggling to focus on one another's faces as the weight of the moment lingered between you. Jamil pulled away, leaving you feeling empty once again, before untangling the ropes that had bound you to the bed. He took a moment to regain his own strength, steadying himself before rising to his feet, ready to prepare your bath and find something to feed you. It was routine for him - though he relished the power he wielded, you were still his beloved and he believed in the duty of aftercare, the tenderness that followed such intimate moments. But just as he began to step away, something caught him off guard. You reached out, your hand slipping into his with softness. “Rest a bit first, babe… Come here, we can cuddle.”

[silentmagi]

Rising Star - Finale

Greetings dear friends, and welcome back. Last time we found out that the creature in the lake siphoning off all the magic was Star’s own father. Given the choice of saving her father, destroying him, or giving up magic, it became clear that there was only one answer.

4. Fight against destiny.

Standing upon the beach, Star took a deep breath, and watched the waves rolling in and out, Balgarath Jr. upon her shoulder as she readied herself for this next stage. She could sense the others standing behind her as she had instructed. It was nearly time for them to face the creature, all she had to do was draw it forth.

Reaching out her hand, she searched the invisible tendrils of magic flowing into the water, and clenched her fist on the first one her hand could grip onto. Yanking upon it, she felt it catch and something came surging out of the water snarling and full of claws and teeth.

“Father, I know you are still in there, I will save you!” she stated with far more confidence than her plan probably merited. Mostly because she didn’t have a plan. She just knew that she had to do something.

Swirling her hand holding the tendril of magic she began to draw forth energy from it, along with a howl of agony from the creature. It might have been a trick of the light, but it looked like it was diminished a little bit. Instead of channeling it into a spell, she focused on the weave of magic around her, trying to tell its paths and how to draw more from it.

Spinning around, she tightened her grip again and flung her hand down, watching as the creature was slammed to the ground.

“Luna, give me music!” she called out, as a flash of inspiration ripped through her.

The sound of the lute filling the basin, she tapped her heel as she began dancing, something that she had never thought herself particularly good at. But as she dipped and twirled past the flung muck and mud, she found that something was guiding her hands towards the tendrils of magic sending the motes of light into the creature.

Spinning around, she snagged more of the magic, bundling it around her hand and pulling it like strings of a puppet, the creature lurched and surged, jerking about with each pull.

Unfortunately, the creature seemed to have picked up on her plan and yanked back just as hard, given that it had her beat in size by a vast margin, it was little surprise that she went flying. Balgarath Jr. leaping off her shoulder as she flew over the creature’s head to claw at its eyes, while Devall skittered around trying to bind the creature in webbing.

Using the magic she channeled, she stopped her fall and hovered in the air. She didn’t know what was going on, but she felt something in her telling her to keep going. Dancing through the air, she continued the strange pas de deux with the creature she was having, yanking and collecting the magic as much as she could.

The creature was howling, but there was almost words to it now, or at least that’s what her mind was telling her.

Drawing the power back, she reached to the sky and brought it down with her first two fingers directed at the creature, just in time for the animal companions to leap clear. Good thing, as lightning blasted the many-fanged creature once her fingers were down.

Yanking the strands again, she felt something pull free, and saw the spectral arm thicken with flesh and sinew, turning human again. Another pull and the maw of endless rows of teeth turned into a proud grin.

Arching around, she slammed the tendrils of magic in an arc over her shoulder, lifting the creature up and then slamming it into the ground several feet from the water as she continued ripping and tearing the magic tendrils from it.

It was now small enough that Sunny could pin it down, revealing the man underneath once again. She stood there panting for breath as she felt the magic coursing through her, seeking a will, guidance, desire.

“Magic do as you will,” she begged, unclenching her fingers and releasing the tendrils that were wrapped around her fist. Lowering herself, she angled to the shore as she felt a glowing warmth from the water flowing out into the world once more. It was warm and humbling, and she could feel magic entering life again. Both ancient and mysterious, as well as new and curious.

Once on land again, she found herself wrapped up in a hug that nearly rivaled the warmth of magic. “How?”

“A common thread in all of the stories of magic we heard,” she explained as she pulled her head out of the marshmallow hell that had been her just reward for the beat down of her father. “Dancing and love, love and dancing, there are always two partners, and a threat to overcome.”

“So you…”

“I cheated, made the creature my partner instead of the threat, and then… gave magic the control it needed,” she confessed with a small laugh.

“Fair enough, now it’s my turn on your dance card, your father will need to rest.”

Star smiled tiredly as she stepped back, holding onto Luna’s hand gently. “I would love to,” she said happily as the pair began dancing in victory, magic providing a music all its own as it sang out into the world once more.

And that dear reader, is  the true story of the birth of the new age of magic. May you find the magic in you.

[bunnyboo77]

Passion of Fire (Daemon Targaryen x original character)

The sun dipped low over King’s Landing, painting the sky with hues of burnt sienna and deep violet, as Francesca stood by the hearth in her cozy cottage. The warmth of the fire crackled cheerily, but her heart raced with worry. She had just finished preparing a simple supper when a heavy knock resounded at the door. It was Daemon.

As she opened the door, an unsettling sight greeted her. Daemon stood there, his clothes torn and bloodied, with streaks of soot staining his skin. His cobalt eyes, usually fierce and unyielding, were clouded with pain. She wasted no time, pulling him into the cottage and shutting the door against the chill of the evening.

"Daemon!" she gasped, swiftly assessing his injuries. “What happened?”

“Just a minor encounter with Vhagar,” he replied, attempting to sound nonchalant, but the grimace on his face betrayed him. “She’s a temperamental beast at times.”

Francesca clenched her jaw, feeling a mix of fury and concern swell within her. "You are not fine. Sit," she commanded, guiding him to a chair by the fire. As he complied, she gathered supplies—cloths, water, and salves—before kneeling at his feet.

"Goddess, you’re stubborn.” She murmured, her fingers trembling slightly as she began to clean his wounds. The fabric slipped from his shoulder, revealing an angry burn mark that ran along his upper arm. Her touch was gentle, despite the severity of the task at hand.

“I’m used to pain,” Daemon replied, watching her intently. “But it’s easier to bear when someone cares enough to tend to me.”

Their eyes locked, and for a moment, the world outside faded, leaving only the two of them suspended in time. Francesca felt a warm flush wash over her, her heart hammering in her chest. There was so much unspoken between them—a bond woven through shared laughter, whispered secrets, and stolen glances in shadowed corners.

“Daemon…” she started, looking into the depths of his gaze, now softened by a vulnerability he rarely displayed. “You don’t have to take these risks alone. You can confide in me.”

He chuckled mirthlessly, an echo of bitterness lacing his tone. “And what good would that do? My family is a web of treachery. I am hammered into a mold shaped by their expectations.”

“I see the man beneath the crown,” she countered gently, her fingers tracing along the edges of his wound as she applied a soothing balm. “You’re more than your lineage; you’re brave, and passionate. Allow yourself to feel that, to let it guide you.”

His breath hitched slightly as her fingers brushed against his skin, igniting embers of longing that simmered just beneath the surface. “You have no idea what I’ve sacrificed for my name, Francesca.”

“But you’re here now,” she whispered, leaning closer. “With me. Let me help bear the weight of it all.”

He held her gaze, searching her eyes as if seeking approval, comfort, a lifeline. Abruptly, he leaned forward, capturing her face in his hands, his thumb caressing her cheek. “It is you who lightens that darkness,” he breathed before closing the distance between them. Their lips met, and it was a collision of aching emotions—fury, passion, and undeniable need.

Francesca melted into him, her heart racing as they poured everything into that kiss. It was both tender and fierce, a mutual surrender that spoke louder than words ever could. She pulled him closer, deepening their kiss, exploring the contours of his mouth with fervor as he responded hungrily, eliciting soft whimpers from her.

When they finally broke apart, both breathing heavily, Daemon drew her into his arms. They settled onto the bed, wrapped in each other's warmth, the rest of the world forgotten. Francesca traced her fingers along the lines of his burn marks, feeling the texture of his skin beneath her fingertips, each scar a reminder of his strength and struggles.

“Tell me you’re real,” he murmured, his eyes dark and earnest. “That I haven’t lost you to this cruel game.”

“You are real, Daemon,” she whispered back, her voice thick with emotion. “And so am I.”

They kissed again, deep and slow, a testament to the bond forged in fire and shadows. Daemon’s hands roamed over her body, igniting sparks wherever they touched, as if trying to memorize every inch of her. Francesca responded in kind, her fingers trailing down the contours of his torso, feeling every taut muscle beneath her palms.

“Francesca,” he breathed against her neck, sending shivers down her spine. “I want you to see all of me.”

In that tangled heap of limbs and beating hearts, they surrendered completely to one another. Their kisses grew more fervent, more desperate, as they explored each other's bodies, tasting, teasing, and claiming what belonged to them in that sacred space. Time lost its meaning, and the outside world faded away, leaving only the heat of their bodies and the intoxicating connection that pulsed between them.

As they lay entwined, Daemon cradled Francesca close, whispering promises into her hair, while she traced the scars upon him with reverence. Each mark told a story, a testimony of survival, and she wanted him to know—each wound only made him more human, more hers.

In the depths of the night, as silence enveloped them, they found solace in each other’s arms, a sanctuary built on trust, love, and an unbreakable bond. As sleep began to pull them under, Francesca sighed contentedly into Daemon's chest, realizing that in the depths of their intimacy, they had forged a connection deeper than any wound—the bond of lovers transformed into soulmates.

[devieuls]

ˋ Haunted . 🗡

Qimir x Ex Jedi Fem Reader < SERIES >

Warning of the Serie: MDNI. Sith Lord Qimir x Fem ex Jedi Reader.

(during the series)

SMUT: Dirty Talk; Bites; fingering; Blood; Spit; Jealousy and Possessiveness; Foreplay; violence; Swearing; Teasing; Unprotected Sex; betrayal; oral sex; dacryphilia; outdoor sex; jealousy BDSM. Dom Qimir ANGST: toxic relationship, self-harm, derealization, suffering, Requited / Unrequited love, prejudices, bullying and insults. There will be flashbacks in this series

Aged characters: Qimir 35 y.o / You 22 y.o.

Synopsis: In a twisted web of light and darkness, two opposites are facing each other, dancing on a thin thread called fate. What happens when light and darkness dance on a wire called destiny, two eternal opposites that inevitably attract each other and create something perfectly powerful and chaotic to unite the power of two in one? The answer emerges in a journey of tension and attraction, where yin and yang discover that their opposition is nothing but a reflection of a deep and unexpected connection. This is the story of how destruction is akin to peace, how the moon one day decided to save the sun, how darkness is not so dark and evil so bad. A journey towards change and desire, where opposing forces merge into a future that no one could have predicted.

(Following some events of the series)

Lenght: 5.1k

TW: THE SERIES WILL BE FULL OF DELICATE TOPICS!

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⠀⠀⠀Chapter X: Not Enough

The months had slipped away like sand through your fingers since you had agreed to become Qimir's pupil. Your relationship, once so complex and full of emotions, now seemed like a surface smoothed by the cold wind of your master's discipline. There was a distance you hadn’t expected, a coldness that hit you harder than any combat technique. You had thought, perhaps with a naïveté that now weighed on you like a stone, that Qimir had become detached out of necessity and duty. You had to see him as your master, not as the man who once held you in his arms, who whispered sweet words in your ear.

But you couldn’t help but desire him. His warmth. You craved it like a flame that burned incessantly inside you. Every time you looked at him, out of the corner of your eye, your heart raced, hoping in vain that the old intimacy would resurface. You remembered every moment when his lips had brushed yours, every touch that took your breath away, the power you believed you had over him. Now, all gone.

When Qimir corrected you during training, his hands slid over your body suggestively, making you hope he would touch you like before, with a desire for that contact growing increasingly unbearable. But it never happened. His fingers guided you through the movements, sometimes lingering a second too long on your skin, a gesture that made you tremble inside. You wished those fingers would stop, that he would let go, that he would make you feel once again like the woman you were. But every time, just when your body reacted to his touch and your breath grew heavier, he would pull away. As if he realized what was happening. As if he couldn’t cross that line. As if he had to keep his distance.

And you were left there, torn between frustration and longing, while your heart burned for the attention he denied you.

This dance between desire and control was wearing down your mind. You found yourself searching in his eyes for a spark of the old Qimir, that man who had shown you sweetness and devotion that now seemed like a distant memory. But you never found anything. His gaze was cold, impenetrable, and behind that wall of ice hid a man who seemed to have relegated you to a distant, formal role. He had even started wearing his helmet more than necessary, even in your presence.

Still, you continued to seek his approval. You craved it. Every glance, every word of praise, no matter how small, became a source of relief. But it was never enough.

You constantly felt under pressure, as if every move you made was judged, observed with a critical and merciless eye, evaluated every single second in his presence. His silence was an unbearable burden that crushed you. You would have given anything to hear from his mouth that you were improving, that you were on the right path, that you were enough. Anything that would warm both of you in the cold that you were beginning to doubt was only autumnal.

The truth, though, bit harder every day. If you had known that your relationship would turn into this cold theater of formality and discipline, perhaps you wouldn’t have agreed to train to become a Sith. Maybe you would have chosen another path, one where you wouldn’t have to suffer every day to win back even a crumb of his recognition.

Your mind obsessively returned to the moments of closeness, trying to reconstruct every touch, every word he had spoken in the past. Now, every gesture from Qimir seemed calculated to maintain that distance, driven by a strange dark presence you could constantly sense.

You wanted him by your side again, not just as a master, but as something more. The thought burned inside you, as if even thinking it was forbidden, as if you couldn’t truly reveal it even to yourself. You dreamed of feeling his lips on yours again, like that one time, so unexpected, so intimate. But it was just a distant, elusive memory, one that tormented you every night when you painfully "entertain" yourself alone.

"You're getting slow." Qimir's voice echoed, cold and distant, muffled by the helmet he wore, pulling your mind back to the training. Each word was a blade, sharp and relentless, piercing your chest and making you falter. You looked at him, but you couldn’t truly see him. The helmet he wore, dark and glossy, hid his face behind an impenetrable mask. There were no eyes, just the metallic echo of his critique. Yet, you could feel the weight of his judgment on you, as if his pupils were piercing through you, cold and disappointed.

You clutched your arm, trying to intensify the pain pulsing from the blow you’d received, the burn left by his lightsaber. The pain was real, tangible, but it was nothing compared to what you felt inside. The physical pain, however searing, was something you could cling to, something that helped you draw from the Force. But the emotional pain, that constant feeling of never being enough, of not deserving his attention, was devouring you from the inside.

The sky above you was turning red, a dying sun casting long shadows over the rocky beach. The waves crashed violently against the rocks, their frantic and irregular rhythm almost mirroring the chaos swirling within you. Each crash of the waves was like the pounding of your heart, hammering in sync with the frustration consuming you.

You doubled over, gasping, gritting your teeth as your muscles still burned from exhaustion. You couldn’t give up, not again. The desire to prove to him that you were worthy of his teaching, of his attention, pushed you beyond the limits of what you could endure. You had to keep going, you had to show him you were strong. But every word that came out of his mouth made you doubt yourself more and more. His voice, so distant, so full of unreachable expectations, made you feel insignificant.

"I'm sorry" you hissed, your voice poisoned by restrained anger, as you glared at him with burning eyes. It was more than just an apology; it was a challenge. You weren’t truly apologizing; you were accusing him of not seeing your efforts, of ignoring how much you were suffering to meet his expectations. Every fiber of your body trembled, not from exhaustion, but from frustration, from the desire to prove yourself worthy in his eyes. You wanted him to see beyond your weaknesses, beyond your failures.

Qimir remained impassive, unmoving like a statue. The cold wind blowing from the sea made his dark cape flutter behind him, but he didn’t even seem to notice. His figure was an oppressive presence, a black mountain against the orange sky. There wasn’t a trace of emotion in his posture, as if your pain and desperation meant nothing to him.

You clenched your fist, the tension in the muscles of your injured arm making you shake. Your breath broke as you tried to maintain control, but you felt like you were about to explode. The weight of his judgment, the coldness with which he observed you, as if you were nothing more than a faulty tool to be fixed or discarded, made your blood boil.

"Stand up." he ordered, without moving a muscle. The tone of his voice left no room for argument, as if he were speaking to a disobedient dog. The humiliation struck you like a slap, but it forced you to your feet. You straightened your back, trying to ignore the pain, trying not to show him how fragile you felt in that moment.

The wind lashed the beach, making grains of black sand dance around your feet, and the sound of the waves mixed with the hiss of the wind. It was a harsh, rugged landscape, perfectly reflecting the coldness between the two of you. As you got back into position, tightening your grip on the lightsaber, you felt the desperation growing inside you.

But Qimir didn’t move. He stood there, impassive, his gaze hidden but piercing, as if he already knew you would fail again. And it was that very presumption that drove you mad. You hated him and desired him at the same time. You hated how he made you feel so small, yet somehow, all you wanted was for him to see you, to acknowledge you. To understand how hard you were fighting, not just for him, but for yourself.

His words still echoed in your head: "You're slow." And as the sun dipped further toward the horizon, casting everything in a crimson red, you clenched your teeth, feeling the anger course through your veins. Was that what he wanted? Did he want you to be angry? Did he want you to use the Force as he did, driven by fury, by desperation?

You charged at him again, but this time there was no hesitation in your movements. The pain in your shoulder was just a spark in your mind. You wanted to hit him, and you would.

The duel began with a clash of opposing energies. The lightsabers crossed in a flash of light and shadow, the energy waves from the impact shaking the air and sand. Your movements were a raw dance of agility, as your red blades sliced through the darkness with lethal precision. Qimir, with icy calm and deadly precision, met each of your attacks with controlled fury, guided by a mastery that seemed unmatched.

Your master seemed intent on testing your resolve, using each strike to push you to the edge without fully crushing you with aggression. His movements were measured, calculated, every attack aimed at forcing you to make a mistake, or rather, to understand your true potential, the darkness that was stirring within you.

The rage and pain were consuming you, fueling each blow as you desperately tried to keep up, but Qimir’s defense was more than impenetrable. Every time your lightsaber sought an opening, he deflected you effortlessly to the side, not hesitating to get physical when necessary. His strength and skill were undeniable, his demeanor that of a hunter in ambush. Meanwhile, your energy was draining fast. Exhaustion took hold, and you felt your strength wavering. Your movements became increasingly erratic, especially with the growing pain in your shoulder. Each block was weaker, each strike slower. Your breath was labored, and the darkness seemed to close in around you, as the glow of your lightsaber grew dimmer.

When you extended your hand to use the Force, his counterattack was merciless. Qimir’s invisible blow hit you like an avalanche, his power overwhelming you with a brutality that nearly knocked you unconscious. You felt yourself being thrown backward, your body crashing violently to the ground, the breath forced from your lungs. Sand clung to your sweat-drenched skin, almost suffocating you. The sand rose around you, and the pain in your shoulder exploded in your chest like a searing flame. You doubled over, gasping, desperately trying to hold onto reality, but everything seemed to slip away, like water through your fingers.

The sunset reflected off the distant waves, the horizon a strip of dying light blending with the darkness that seemed to engulf everything. You could feel the sand beneath you, its cold contrast against the heat of your exhausted body, sweat mixing with the grime. Your mind was in turmoil, a whirlwind of rage, pain, and frustration. Nothing was clear anymore, just the overwhelming sense of yet another failure, tightening around your chest like a slow, creeping poison.

Each breath you took felt heavy, as if the weight of your defeat was pressing down on your lungs, suffocating you. You could barely hold onto the present moment, your thoughts clouded by a crushing disappointment that threatened to swallow you whole.

"The thing you do to your wounds, weakens you." Qimir said with that icy calm you had grown to hate. His voice seemed to come from a distant world. You watched him approach, his dark figure silhouetted against the burning sky, the cloak billowing elegantly behind him, like a shadow moving to the rhythm of the wind.

He removed his helmet. A clear signal: the training was over. But your inner battle was far from finished. His eyes looked down at you, as hard as ever, but there was a different light in them, softer, like a thread of compassion hidden behind the harshness.

"Hitting your wound to use pain to access the Force may work, but if you don’t know how to control it, it will consume you. As it is happening to you now" he continued, his voice sharp, though his words carried wisdom that almost mocked you. It was as if he was teaching you, yet making you feel vulnerable and weak at the same time.

Qimir extended his hand. A surprising gesture, in stark contrast to his usual hardness. You looked at him, hesitant. His raven-black hair, perfect as always, swayed slightly in the wind. Unlike yours. Dirty, covered in sand and sweat, plastered to your face. You felt defeated, your body aching, but what hurt the most was his gaze. It wasn’t hard, but distant. That void between you, the absence of the warmth you had once felt, had now become a chasm.

You grasped his hand, despite everything. The touch hit you like lightning, a mix of gratitude and resentment. He helped you up with surprising ease, though it took all your strength. Your legs trembled, pain pulsing through your shoulder, making you falter. Your eyes were ablaze with rage. You couldn’t stand his coldness, his apparent indifference. You had fought with everything you had, yet he seemed not to see it. Humiliation burned in your throat like bile.

Although, for a moment, his touch seemed almost… delicate. A brief moment, a flash of humanity that disappeared almost immediately.

The silence that followed his words was deafening. The wind seemed to stop, the air itself becoming oppressive, charged with electricity between you. Your eyes burned, locked onto his, searching for any flicker of emotion, any reaction that might offer you comfort. But he remained impassive, his mask of calm perfectly intact, as if nothing you felt could penetrate it.

"And how am I supposed to do that?" you murmured, your voice breaking under the weight of a desperation you could no longer contain. It was a whisper loaded with frustration, as if every word were a fragment of your soul reaching out for him. You wanted an answer, a direction, anything to give you a sense of guidance in the chaos inside you. "The Force is within you" he finally said, his voice so sharp it felt like a physical blow. "You do not possess it; you are part of it. But you struggle, like a lost soul clinging to weak methods."

His words cut deep, slicing away at any resistance you tried to maintain. You felt the blood racing through your veins, your heart pounding in your chest. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right for him to treat you this way, to continue denying you what you knew you were ready to receive. He knew it, too.

Then his voice shifted, dropping to a lower pitch, laden with an intensity that caught you off guard.

"Use the anger, the resentment, the hatred you have toward me…" he said, his gaze growing heavier on you, almost consuming. You felt his warm knuckles brush briefly against your cheek, making you sway, teetering on that needy touch. "I feel it in you; it is powerful. You have already used it. When you killed Sol… you needed nothing else. Your hatred was enough."

The memory of Sol surged in your mind with a violence that stole your breath. His last words, his lifeless eyes wide open, the weight of your lightsaber piercing his body. Your hatred had been an unstoppable flame, and for a moment, you had felt invincible. But that power had left you empty, cold, as if every part of you had been consumed by your own fire.

"But you are not ready yet." he continued, pulling away again, as if your pain were nothing more than an insignificant detail. The distance between you seemed to grow, like an abyss you could no longer bridge. His hand left your face, and the chill of the air hit you fully, making you shiver. His tone was not accusatory but definitive.

"I am ready. Teach me!" Your voice broke with the demand, yet the echo of that phrase seemed to lose strength against the impenetrable barrier of indifference he had erected. You stared at him, your chest rising and falling rapidly.

Qimir scrutinized you with that icy calm you so despised in that moment.

"How can I teach you something you already know how to use?" His response made you feel small, insignificant. It was as if your pleas carried no weight, as if you were just a weak spark in the vastness of his darkness.

"You are my master! You must be able to teach me everything!" you shouted, your voice filled with a rage you could no longer contain. The sound reverberated between you, making you seem even more vulnerable in your desperation.

"As I said. You are not ready." he repeated, and this time those words hit you like a punch to the gut. It was a total, immovable rejection. Every emotion, every desire of yours was crushed under the weight of that latest judgment. He stepped back slightly from you, with a nonchalance that made bile rise in your throat.

"What must I do to make you satisfied?" you shouted, your voice cracking with desperation and exhaustion, frustration bubbling over. Every word felt like a blow, an attempt to make him yield, to elicit a reaction to your need to feel accepted by him again.

There was a long silence. His shoulders seemed to relax slightly, but his face remained rigid, controlled.

"It's not about satisfaction, Y/N," he finally said, his voice so calm it sent chills down your spine. There was something unnatural in that warm coldness, as if he were playing a part. "It's about you. About who you want to be. About who you are now."

Those words crushed you. It was as if everything you had done up to that point, all your efforts, had been in vain. He saw you as fragile, incapable of grasping what the true power of the dark side meant.

"You seek from me the treatment your Jedi master gave you," he continued, his words sharp as blades. "You don’t understand that my method is the farthest thing from that world."

Those words hit you like a whip. They were not what you wanted to hear. You would have preferred any other response, something that could explain the reason for his distance, for his cold demeanor. Was this really his way of training you? To plunge you into doubt to force you to emerge stronger?

"I seek from you what you promised me." Your tone shifted, becoming softer yet laden with a more subtle, dangerous anger. You stepped closer to him, so close that you could feel his breath against your skin. Your faces were just a hand's breadth apart, and you noticed how his Adam's apple moved as he swallowed slowly, a sign that you were breaking through his control.

"You said you wanted to be completely mine." Your words were poison, sweet and lethal, as you locked your gaze on his, searching for that spark you knew was hidden behind his facade. "But you're not. You're more distant than you were at the beginning." You bit your lip hardly, unable to accept his detachment any longer.

"We need to go back home so I can treat your wound and rest for tomorrow," he replied, ignoring your words with his usual impenetrable calm. But something in his voice trembled, a crack you couldn't ignore.

You could no longer tolerate it. You grabbed his face, your hands trembling yet resolute. Your eyes fluttered slightly as your lips brushed against each other, a barely perceptible touch, but enough to send shivers through both of you. You felt his breath quicken, and a shiver ran through his body, revealing a vulnerability he desperately tried to conceal.

"Qimir." You felt his burning gaze on you as you breathed in his breath, feeling alive for that brief moment. "Tell me you’re still mine," you whispered against his lips, your warm breath against his skin as your lips trailed down his jaw. You felt him tremble under your touch, and you knew you had struck the right chord. His breath became ragged as your hands wrapped around his neck.

"Tell me you want me." Your tone was sensual, heavy with a desire that could no longer be denied. Your lips glided down his skin, every touch making his resolve waver. You could feel him faltering, his mask starting to crack. The heat of his body radiated, the tension in his muscles tightening under your caress. You wanted him more than anything, and you knew he wanted you just as much. But just as you felt you had him in your grasp, his hands closed tightly around your wrists, holding you in place.

"Stop it, Y/n," he commanded, his voice firm yet strained, a sign that he was struggling against himself. Your eyes met his defiantly, a nearly satisfied smile on your face.

"Or what?" you challenged, your voice now a low, venomous hiss, almost inviting him to be swept away by your own desire. You stepped closer with determined strides, forcing him to take a step back, and his expression shifted slightly, a flicker of hesitation passing across his face. You could feel him yielding, even as he tried to hide it behind his composed facade.

"What happens if I don’t stop?" you continued, your tone now laced with a dangerous challenge but also seductive, an invitation to drop that façade. Every word was a weapon, every movement calculated to maintain your advantage over him, to make him waver even more. The air between you crackled with tension; each inch of distance that closed made you feel as if you had already won.

His breathing grew heavier, and though he tried to maintain an appearance of control, you couldn't help but notice how he swallowed hard, cold sweat glistening on his skin, trembling silently with the urge to possess every inch of your being. The way his gaze flickered repeatedly to your lips suggested he was struggling against the desire to close that small space between you once more.

"I know how you feel about me, Qimir," you continued, your voice sliding like silk, weaving into his thoughts, wrapping around him. Each word was a painful caress, a constant reminder of the power you held over him. "I know this is all just a facade. A silly charade you insist on maintaining for some strange reason. But I don’t care."

You moved even closer, feeling the warmth of his body brush against yours again. Your gaze intensified, as if you were trying to pull him completely into your world.

"I want you, Qimir. I don't care that you're my master, or that you think you need to uphold some kind of ethics." Your words ignited a fire between you, consuming any remnants of resistance that remained. "You said I’m free. That you’re free too."

You felt his breath quicken, watching as he fought to maintain a posture of superiority, distant from you, even though what he truly wanted was the opposite. You could see his eyes darting nervously between yours and the space around you, as if searching for an escape route.

“Then tell me, Qimir… what’s wrong with this?” Your voice was now almost a whisper, soft, seductive, a sweet poison slowly seeping into his body, leaving him with no escape. You felt his control slipping away, his body rigid as the tension between you grew to an unbearable level. You enjoyed seeing him so vulnerable, so teetering between what he wanted and what he believed he had to do. It made you feel less alone in that moment.

"You’re injured," he said, but his voice was cracked, weak, almost pleading as he clenched his jaw. He cleared his throat to make it sound more firm and authoritative. "And you can't afford distractions during your training." His words, despite aiming to be a reprimand, sounded empty, stripped of their usual firmness. And you knew it. You knew it well. He was weak for you, and his continued denial drove you insane.

His gaze betrayed his words, and for a moment, he seemed to waver. Qimir's eyes lingered on your lips again, longer this time, with a desire so evident that his breathing became erratic. He wanted to kiss you, to consume you completely, tearing at your skin with his mouth, marking his territory. But every second of resistance he put between you only made him more vulnerable, more ensnared in the web you had woven around him.

“It hurts me more your stupid charade.” you spat acidly, the anger and frustration now boiling inside you. Your eyes sharpened, and with a quick, decisive movement, you tore your wrists from his grip, feeling the tension in his muscles relax abruptly. The emptiness left by his hands on your wrists hit you harder than you had imagined, but you stepped back nonetheless, gritting your teeth. He stood still, petrified, watching you go.

You turned abruptly, your heart pounding in your chest, determined not to yield once again to the power he held over you. The silence that followed was unbearable, a muted roar filling the beach. You walked toward your duffel bag, the sound of your heavy footsteps echoing in the stillness between you. You decisively grabbed your training gear, your hands trembling slightly from the frustration tightening around your throat; you waited, almost hoping he would stop you, that he would say something anything.

But he didn’t.

You paused for a moment, closing your eyes, trying to regain control over your emotions as your chest heaved up and down frantically.

“Do you know what the truth is?” you murmured, your voice a taut whisper cutting through the thick air between you. The growing darkness seemed to reflect the weight of the words you were about to speak, heavy with a challenge you could no longer contain. Your grip tightened on the leather strap of your duffel bag, almost to stabilize the whirlwind of emotions stirring inside you.

“The truth is that you’re afraid, Qimir.” Those words came out with a glacial firmness, a definitive statement that cut off any possibility of rebuttal. You felt his body stiffen behind you, the rising tension palpable in the air.

You turned, determined not to give him any more space, not to give him the satisfaction of seeing your resolve waver. Your hand moved swiftly to the side, snapping your fingers to wake Huhn, your faithful Nexu sleeping behind a rock.

You felt its piercing call echo as Huhn woke and stretched, a familiar vibration bringing you back to your world, to your strength. He was not just an animal; Huhn was somehow your connection to who you once were, to the blood of the Nightsisters flowing within you. The very name, "Kill Cry," a fierce declaration in Paecian, paid tribute to that part of you that you could never ignore. Your mother had taught you that, the language of the warrior witches of Dathomir, along with their determination.

Huhn emerged from the twilight, his agile and fierce figure racing toward you. His dark eyes sparkled for a moment in the reflection of the last reddish rays of the sun, which was now slipping below the horizon. With a quick leap, he crouched beside you, his powerful presence reassuring. You stroked his head, feeling his muscles quiver beneath his skin. In just a few months, he had grown enough to reach your calves.

You could still feel Qimir’s gaze on you, burning, trapped in the conflict between desire and duty. And you knew that, no matter how hard he tried to deny it, the bond you shared would never be something he could control alone for long. That thought gave you a strange sense of power.

Without looking back, you walked toward the path that would lead you back to the cave, Huhn by your side. The sand beneath your feet began to cool, and the sound of waves crashing against the rocks was a constant backdrop, almost hypnotic. The salty air filled your lungs as the sun sank lower, leaving the sky tinged with a muted red that slowly faded into the dark blue of evening. Huhn followed you with silent steps, his steady breath matching the rhythm of your walk. Occasionally, you felt the weight of his body brush against yours, a constant reminder of his protective presence, as if he could sense your restless state of mind.

The rocks grew narrower as you climbed the final stretch of the path, ascending the last steps that would bring you home. The sound of the waves crashing below you seemed distant now, a faraway noise blending with the beat of your heart. You finally entered the cave, the darkness enveloping you completely.

You paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. The air here was cooler, somehow helping to clear your mind before your roommate arrived.

Huhn crouched beside what had become your bed, where you had set up a sort of nest for him, curling up once again into a ball as you moved around the room to gather some items to tend to your wounds. You wondered what would happen next.

You still didn't know what his next move would be, but one thing was clear in your mind: you would reclaim what was yours. And he belonged to you.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

TAGLIST: @neteyamtanhi @blossomedfloweroflove @muffledgorillaviolence @princessakirika

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Notes :

Sorry I’ve disappeared, but I’ve been very busy. In addition, there are about 3 chapters (maximum 4) that I intend to finish and publish between this week and next. After that I will start one shot with some nice ideas or stories from 2 parties maximum. In addition I would also publish the FF on Yao (Another character that Manny has played, where is a sexy wellness consultant ;) will be spicy)

I hope you enjoyed the chapter, let me know

-Mel

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚

[theink-stainedfolk]

New WIP!!!

The Circle of Silent Stars

---

The Taral Kingdom, once a beacon of peace and prosperity, now stands on the edge of ruin. A curse has taken root, one born from a divine tragedy, and the land is slowly unraveling. Villages disappear overnight, people forget their loved ones, and the very fabric of time itself begins to falter.

Hizem Alzake, the Emperor of Taral, a president of the secret society, The Elarune Vetharin, is haunted by fragmented memories of his past life as Kezifrat, a deity entangled in the curse’s creation. His obsession with finding the truth grows desperate. His bodyguard, Muzam, strong yet reserved, feels an inexplicable pull towards Hizem’s cause, haunted by dreams of wings and fire—symbols of his previous life as Zafris. Together, they search for answers, unaware of the forces guiding their every step.

Meanwhile, Seram Vezurik, the archivist with a calm demeanor, struggles with his own buried past. Unbeknownst to him, his first incarnation as the dragon deity Nelos is tied to the unraveling mystery. When he meets Kirazhe Vulberna, a young man from another world who seeks to escape his fate, Seram is torn between a deep, growing connection and the secrets that his heart dares not face.

Rizon Nuhir, a vice president of the society, has been awakened from death—not by chance, but by destiny. With the memories of his previous life fading, he now has the rare ability to see the shifting patterns of the world. As Taral's crisis deepens, he becomes an unlikely guide for those lost in the web of fate, but he is not without his own scars.

Caught in the maelstrom of divine reckoning, they must all confront their pasts, their bonds, and the truth that lies beneath the stars—before the very kingdom they call home crumbles into dust.

---

My ♡s: @paeliae-occasionally @willtheweaver @drchenquill @wyked-ao3 @the-inkwell-variable @corinneglass @seastarblue @keeping-writing-frosty @oliolioxenfreewrites @vesanal @orphanheirs @dauntlessdraupadi @oros-ash3s

[jedijesi]

Caught in the Cats Web Chapter 13

Miguel O'Hara x Felicia Hardy! Reader

Previous Chapter 🕸️ Series Masterlist

Warnings: Fluff, Injuries

Word Count: 3.8K

Chapter Summary: Felicia and Miguel hide from assassins on her Earth and embrace a day of normalcy.

Co-Author: @stclairesplace

A/N: All art goes to the original artist! Enjoy some calm before the storm.

New York Earth-194

The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow on the room as Miguel and Felicia began to stir from their slumber. As they gradually awakened, their eyes met, and a gentle smile passed between them. The soft sheets clung to their bodies, offering a comforting embrace that made it difficult to leave the cozy haven of their bed.

Stretching lazily, Miguel’s hand gently caresses her cheek. He gently pulls her in to exchange a tender kiss, their lips moving in perfect synchrony. 

“Buenos dias, sleepyhead,” Miguel whispered against her lips.

“Good morning, my handsome spider.” Felicia smiles, pulling back to hide her face in the warmth of his chest. 

Feeling Miguel slightly shift to get up, Felicia used whatever strength she had in the early morning to stiffen her hand on his torso, keeping him from moving. Miguel let out a long exasperated sigh and smirked at her antics of trying to keep him close to her.

Miguel untucks his arm from underneath, now wrapping it around her shoulder so he can stroke her arms which lay haphazardly across his torso.

“Are you comfortable, Hermosa?” He asks, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Mmhmm very,” her voice was sleepy. A small smile plays on his lips as he admires the serenity that washes over her face. "I can feel you staring at me," Felicia whispers, her eyes still closed. Sensing her desire, Miguel reaches out and gently takes her hand in his, guiding it to his face. Her fingertips graze his cheek, and she can sense the contours of his features even with her eyes shut.

Savoring the intimate moment, Felicia brings her thumb up to his face, stroking his cheek, tracing the lines and curves that define his face. Slowly, Miguel guides her hand to his mouth, his lips tenderly brushing against each delicate curve and outline that adorns her hand and wrist. 

“My big teddy bear,” she says with a grin, looking into his sparkling eyes. 

Miguel gently pulled her arm to wrap around his neck, careful of her injured torso that followed suit. He then takes his hand to reach under her neck tilting her head up to meet his lips in a deep compassionate kiss. They break apart only for a second before Miguel mutters on her lips, “And you’re the only one who’s ever gonna see me like this.” 

Felicia tucks herself into his chest, pulling the sheets up to cover half of her face. 

“Mmm fine by me. I like this part of you.” Her voice muffled between his pecs. 

“I can’t remember the last time I felt so-“ 

Felicia lifts her head from his shoulder, eyebrows furrowed in curiosity.

“So what?”

“So peaceful.” 

Her expression then shifts to concern, “Miguel-”

“Felicia.”

“When was the last time you had a break?” 

Miguel blinked, eyes darting around the ceiling trying to think of the last time he did have a break, or a day off for that matter. “When was the last time we had a date?”

Felicia frowns, “You still worked that day.” Miguel’s mind searches his memory for a minute, trying to pinpoint another day. “Exactly what I thought. I’m asking LYLA.”

“No do not- why are you calling-”

“Shush” Felicia places a finger on his lips, reaching around to press the button on her watch that rests on the nightstand. 

Suddenly, LYLA’s form appears in the bedroom. “You are decent right?!” she quickly covers her eyes with her hands in fear. 

Felicia rolls her eyes at the AI, “Yes! We are decent otherwise we wouldn't call you.”

“Oh, well ok!” She uncovers her eyes, immediately returning to her bright bubbly spirit. “What do ya need?” she happily beams. 

“LYLA has Miguel ever had a day off or any kind of break from working?”

“HA ya right! No, I’ve never been around to see it. Jess has been harboring him for a long time to take a break from working. But he always comes back to work! And then- and I mean- I mean he always comes back to work with that grumpy I’m gonna kill someone today look on his face it scares a lot of people-”

“Thank you LYLA, as always,” Miguel grumbles out. 

“LYLA please silence all notifications for Miguel unless it’s an emergency,” Felicia smirks, gazing into Miguel’s annoyed eyes.

“My pleasure boss!” She fades off with a wink.

Miguel sits upright, “Boss?! Since when did you become a boss to the AI I created?”

“Well… I am the most talented Spider-person the Spider Society has… plus I’m dating the boss.” She moves to sit up, feeling the sting of her healing wound. Slowly, she repositions herself so she now straddles his waist. “Listen, we need to keep you safe, and I need to heal. I don’t care how long it takes, but that means you are taking a break!” She huffs out. 

Miguel sighs a short “fine”, causing Felicia to let out a small cheer and clap her hands enthusiastically. 

“What do you want to do, handsome? Anything you want!” 

He rubs her legs in thought and says in a low voice, “There are a few things that I’ve been thinking of doing.” He leans forward, his lips hovering over hers, with a giant smirk plastered on his face.

“Not that.” She lightly pecks him on the lips then brings her hand up to stroke his messy hair. 

“You feeling up for a walk?” Miguel inquires, massaging her hips. 

Felicia tilts her head, mentally assessing her wound. “A slow one, maybe. Why?”

“How do you feel about showing me around a bit?”

She arches his brow at her idea, “Show you New York? It’s New York, haven't you seen like a thousand?” 

“Eh.” He shrugs. “I’ve fought in countless New Yorks, but I’ve never… experienced it.”

“Ok then, I’ll show you around.” She says with a soft smile.

“Now can I have my kiss, Hermosa?”

Felicia chuckles and nods, “Yes you may,” placing her lips onto his. He reciprocates hungrily, running a hand up her thigh, and gently squeezing her bottom. After a few moments, they reluctantly untangled themselves from the sheets, their bodies intertwined until the very last moment. 

Miguel helped Felicia stand from the bed before they made their way to the kitchen, hand in hand. “What do you wanna eat this morning, eggs?” Felicia asked as she looked around the fridge, grabbing some cheese and butter, as well as some fresh fruit. 

“Aye! Mí vida!” Miguel scolds, ushering the woman away from the fridge and to the stool on the island. “You are not allowed to cook! Rest.” He says, placing a kiss on her forehead before returning to the refrigerator. 

Felicia's eyes followed Miguel affectionately as he gathered ingredients and set up a fresh pot of coffee. The care and attention he put into each step resonated with her, a stark contrast to the hustle of her life. The last time someone took care of her like this was when her father was alive, more than fifteen years ago. Her body filled with the warmth of nostalgia, remembering the way her father would make her just about anything she wanted for breakfast.

As the eggs sizzled in the pan, the aroma of coffee filled the air, creating a comforting atmosphere in the kitchen. The two of them engaged in playful banter, their laughter intertwining to form a delightful symphony that momentarily drowned out the chaotic noise of the world outside. In those precious moments, the simple act of sharing a meal became a sanctuary, a refuge from the complexities of their superhero lives.

With breakfast now ready, Miguel gracefully carried their plates to the sunlit dining table. Gently, he lifted Felicia, placing her in her seat. Taking his place across from her, their eyes met. They embraced the rare moment, enjoying the peace and normalcy. The sun streaming through the window painted a gentle glow on the scene, making their shared breakfast feel like a timeless moment suspended amid their bustling lives.

“When’s the last time you cut your hair?” Felicia asked, her lips curling in a smile as she a forkfull of eggs into her mouth. 

Miguel stared at his plate, taking a moment to process the question. “Not sure. Why do you ask?” 

“Can I cut it for you sometime?” 

“...Sure? Do you not like my hair or something?” 

Felicia abruptly dropped her fork onto her empty plate and leaned forward, “Are you kidding I love your hair, it’s one of my favorite things about you! I’m just offering to cut it for you when it gets too long for you, that's all. Gives me a chance to play with your hair.”

“Is that so…” Miguel stared at Felicia with a beaming smile. “What else do you like about me chica linda?” He hums.

“Ohh well let’s seeeee.” She sing-songed to tease him.

Felicia smirked, savoring the last bite of her meal before elegantly rising from her chair. She carried her empty plate to the sink. The clink of plates and the sound of running water sounded as Miguel observed her with a teasing smirk, waiting for her to come up with a witty response.

“I like your butt, it’s very firm.” She nods. “Oh, I like your wide shoulders and your facial features, aaanndd-”

“Aaaannnd what else?” He says, rising from her seat and stalking up behind her, pressing his chest against her back, barricading her against the sink. He lowers his head to place small kisses along her neck.

“Aannndd you’re an incredible leader.” 

He immediately pulls away from her neck, body stiff in shock as he looks down at the top of her head, dumbfounded. “There is nothing else that you like about me?”

Felicia dumbly shakes her head, as if she’s lost for words. She turns around to face him, an innocent smile on her face. As soon as she looks up at his face, she immediately breaks character and starts laughing, covering her mouth as she lets out a snort. Miguel stands in front of her, hands on his hips as his face turns red in frustration.

“Awww poor baby, I’m sorry I am.” Felicia settles down her laughing by wrapping her arms around his waist, pressing herself tightly against him. His stance is unwavering, shoulders stuck in place as he ignores her pleading stares. 

After a moment she smirks against his chest, before reaching a hand down to gently run over the bulge in his boxers. “I’m sorry, baby, I’ll say it, I’ll say it.” She reaches up on her tiptoes, pressing kisses on his cheek and neck, before whispering, against his lips, ‘Baby, I love your giant fucking cock.” 

Miguel’s facade breaks down as he shakes his head and leans in for a kiss. He pulls her into him, pressing his hands on the small of her back as he whispers in her ear a sarcastic “Thanks” 

Felicia finally settles down, removing her arms from around his waist, and begins to exit the kitchen, still maintaining eye contact with Miguel as she leaves. “I’m gonna go take a shower before we leave.” She says with a mischievous glint in her eyes. 

Felicia turned the corner and headed towards the bathroom, where Miguel followed closely behind. He knew she could shower by herself, but that protective side of him couldn’t help but worry. The sound of running water filled the bathroom as she stepped into the shower, her body enveloped by the warm drops of water sliding down her body. 

She wipes the droplets of water from her eyes, and she turns to find a very naked Miguel outside of the shower door. “Mind if I join you?” 

“Oh, please do.” She purrs. 

Miguel stepped into the shower, the warmth of the water cascading down his body as he carefully began to remove the bandages that concealed the aftermath of the attack. The shower echoed with the soft hiss of pain as her stab wound met the warmth of the water.

Felicia, resilient yet vulnerable, couldn't stifle the discomfort, and Miguel couldn't help but whisper a series of apologies, each word heavy with remorse. His eyes reflected a mix of concern and guilt as he navigated the delicate process, his touch gentle yet cautious. 

Underneath the gentle spray, they washed away the remnants of sleep, their hands moving languidly over each other's skin. The water cascaded down their bodies, washing away any lingering tension, leaving only a deep intimacy and connection.

As the steam filled the bathroom, their lips met in a tender kiss, their bodies pressed close together. In the shower's embrace, Miguel and Felicia found solace and passion, the water serving as a conduit for their shared desires. Their movements were slow and deliberate, their bodies moving in perfect harmony, a symphony of lust and pleasure, whispering promises to keep each other safe.

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

Dressed for the winter weather of New York, Miguel and Felicia strolled hand in hand through the halls of her building until they reached the elegant lobby. The opulent architecture of the lobby captivated Miguel's eyes, and he couldn't help but appreciate the grandeur surrounding them.

"Good morning, Miss Hardy," a uniformed man greeted with a respectful nod.

"Good morning, Tom," Felicia replied, returning the nod.

"Good morning, Miss Hardy," A receptionist, chimed in.

"Good morning, Silvia," Felicia greeted with a friendly smile.

The pattern repeated as they encountered more staff members, surprising Miguel.

"Good morning, Miss Hardy."

"Good morning, Jun."

"Good morning, Miss Hardy."

"Good morning, Zara."

Miguel observed the genuine warmth and respect with which the hotel staff greeted Felicia. It was evident that she held a special place in their hearts, and the atmosphere around her reflected a blend of familiarity and mutual admiration.

“Wow,” Miguel said as they made their way to the large doors. “Do you know everyone that works here?”

“Mmhmm,” She hums with a nod. “I’ve lived here most my life.”

The doormen opened the grand doors, ushering the couple into the bustling chaos of New York City. Miguel's arm instinctively tightened protectively around Felicia as he guided her down the steps to the busy sidewalk. Once they reached the bustling street, Miguel turned to look at Felicia's building.

His eyes widened in recognition. "Holy shit, you live in The Plaza?!"

"Yeah," she replied nonchalantly. "I thought you knew that."

"I was too nervous about our date to study the building," he shrugged. "How many paintings and jewels have you stolen to afford a penthouse in the Plaza?"

Felicia smiled, her gaze shifting upward to the grand architecture of the hotel. "It's my daddy's," she revealed.

Miguel's eyes widened in surprise. Felicia had never mentioned her family before. "Go on," he urged, eager to learn more about her and the world she came from.

Her gaze shifted looking up at the glistening buildings before closing her eyes, allowing the memories to flood back, taking her to a time when life was simpler.

17 Years Ago…

The little white-haired girl sat in the window bed, the soft glow of the adjacent building lights casting a cool ambiance in her room. Moonlight danced on her shimmering hair as she played with the strands, creating a mesmerizing dance of silver.

A distant symphony of sirens echoed through the night, harmonizing with the hum of the city. Each wail was a lullaby, a comforting melody that accompanied her moments of solitude.

Suddenly, a silhouette, as dark as the night itself, swung past her window. The little girl's eyes widened in delight, the anticipation written on her face. In an instant, she abandoned her perch, the cool floor beneath her feet forgotten as she raced down the hall, guided by the echoes of excitement.

“Daddy!” she exclaimed with unbridled joy, as the figure crawled into the window. She threw herself into the waiting arms of her father, giving his neck a big squeeze.

“Felicia, what are you doing up?” Walter Hardy playfully scolded, trying to maintain an air of sternness, but his eyes betrayed the warmth of a father's love. Felicia, however, was undeterred by his attempts at seriousness, focused only on the promise of surprises concealed in the bag he carried.

“What did you bring me?” she persisted, her curiosity and excitement gleaming in her eyes as her small hand reached for the bag.

Walter, her father, continued the charade, his arm playfully evading her grasp. “Ah, ah, ah!” he chided, his tone a mixture of mock severity and amusement. “What makes you think I brought you anything, huh?”

Felicia responded with a mischievous smirk, sensing the playful dance between father and daughter that was about to unfold. "Cause I know you love me," she teased, her words laced with playful confidence.

Walter rolled his eyes as he ran his fingers over the black and white streaks of his hair, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Spoiled, daddy's girl," he said with a chuckle, as he unholstered his weapons. 

Felicia batted her eyes, her legs swinging in anticipation. "So… Do you love me?"

"How could I not?" Walter smiled with the warmth of a father's love as he presented the all-white Coach backpack to the little girl.

Felicia's cheer echoed with delight as she cradled the elegant backpack in her hands. "It's beautiful, thank you, Daddy!" she exclaimed, her joy radiating from her as she leaped into his waiting arms. 

"You better get better grades with that backpack," Walter teased.

Felicia smiled, her affectionate gaze meeting her father's as she pressed a tender kiss to his cheek, the bristles of his salt-and-pepper beard brushing against her lips. "I love you, Daddy," she whispered.

Today…

“You must have been close with your dad,” Miguel says as he ups her back. 

“He was my best friend.” Felicia smiles at the memory as the two stroll down the bustling street. “Granted, I didn’t have any friends growing up.” She shrugs as he leans down, pressing a kiss to her temple. 

The city's vibrant energy surrounded them, as skyscrapers reached towards the heavens and the sounds of honking taxis and chattering pedestrians filled the air. The cool winter breeze swept through the streets, sending a chill through them.

Felicia glanced up at Miguel, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "So, Mr. Smooth Talker, what’d you wanna do?"

Miguel grinned, playfully squeezing her hand. "Well, my enchanting partner in crime, I thought we just walked? And maybe go somewhere I heard about that I think you have on your Earth.” He looks her up and down with his eyes. “How does that sound?"

"Sounds like the perfect day to me.” Felicia's cheeks were warm, a playful glimmer in her eyes. 

They continued their stroll, the city's rhythm guiding their steps, helping Felicia’s body to acclimate back to normal. They passed street performers, their music filling the air, and colorful vendors selling their creations on the sidewalks. The sights and sounds of New York painted a vibrant backdrop to their conversation. As they turned a corner, a street artist caught Felicia’s attention, creating an intricate mural on a brick wall. She paused, marveling at the artist's skill, her and Miguel’s fingers entwined.

Miguel's gaze lingered on Felicia, his voice filled with admiration. "You like that?”

Felicia still awestruck at the artist’s creation, only nodded her head in reply. Miguel chuckled at her response, before pulling her by the hand to continue down the street. 

“Where are we going?” Felicia stumbled, being dragged by Miguel’s hand through the swarms of people. 

“You’ll see.” he smiles. 

When they approach a corner Miguel quickly spins around to stand directly in front of Felicia, blocking her line sight. 

“Whatcha doin’ Migs?”

“Close your eyes, and don’t open until I tell you.”

“Okayyy,” Felicia reluctantly accepted whatever plan Miguel had conjured up, covering her eyes with both her hands. 

Miguel guided Felicia through the entrance, his hand gently resting on the small of her back. As they stepped inside, a grand atrium unfolded before them, adorned with soaring ceilings and elegant marble columns. The building itself boasted an architectural marvel—an intricate combination of sleek glass panels and steel beams, allowing natural light to cascade into the space and illuminate the artworks within.

Felicia could sense the air of sophistication that permeated the atmosphere. The soft echoes of hushed conversations mingled with the faint melody of classical music playing in the background. The museum was a sanctuary of creativity, a haven for the masterpieces of renowned artists from around the world.

Miguel watched Felicia closely, a smile playing on his lips as he observed her eyes widening behind her closed lids. He knew she had a deep appreciation for art, and he couldn't wait to witness her reaction when they finally reached their destination.

"Okay, open them now," Miguel whispered, his voice filled with anticipation.

Felicia slowly unveiled her eyes, her gaze sweeping across the gallery ahead. She found herself standing in front of a breathtaking painting, its vibrant colors and meticulous brushstrokes capturing her attention. She gasped, her hand instinctively reaching out to touch the invisible emotions that seemed to emanate from the canvas.

"Migs, this... this is incredible," she stammered, her voice betraying her awe. "How did you know I would love this?"

Miguel grinned, his eyes fixed on Felicia's enraptured expression. "I've been paying attention, Felicia. Plus not to mention you used to steal this stuff for a living. But mostly I just wanted to see the look on your face when you see it all in one big place.” 

Felicia steps away from Miguel for a split second, admiring her surroundings and the numerous rooms and hallways that possessed a different treasure. 

He tentatively asked, “Are you happy?”

She quickly whips her head to look at him before saying, “Of course I’m happy, I have the best boyfriend in the world. 

As they continued their journey through the museum, Miguel reveled in each moment, watching Felicia's fascination with the art that adorned the walls. He cherished the way her eyes sparkled, the way her fingers traced the contours of sculptures and the way her laughter resonated within the sacred halls of creativity.

After a few hours, they finished the tour of the museum, before exiting. They resumed their walk, the city providing a backdrop to their playful banter. They shared stories and jokes, even the occasional spider gossip, their voices intertwining like the streets they walked upon.

As they reached Central Park, Miguel pulled Felicia into his arms, spinning her around in a joyful dance. Their laughter echoed through the trees, blending with the sounds of nature.

Miguel looked into Felicia's eyes, a tender smile gracing his lips. “Thank you for today, Hermosa.”

Felicia's eyes sparkled, her voice filled with affection. “You’re welcome Migs, you deserve it.” You make every moment an adventure."

Hand in hand, they continued their exploration of the city, their laughter, and flirty remarks carried on the wind. In that moment, New York City became their playground, a canvas on which their love story unfolded, one flirty remark at a time.

Chapter 14

A/N: I know it's been a week already, but now that Thanksgiving is over we are back to our regularly scheduled fics!

Taglist: @leahnicole1219 @oscarissac2099 @www-interludeshadow-com

[a-d-nox]

web of wyrd: ios 18 is coming to us september 18

supposedly that is the release date, so i want to deep dive on the 18 (moon) energy and how the themes can influence technology. in this case phones.

illusions and uncertainty

there are likely to be features that are not immediately clear in terms of performance (the terms of agreement / acknowledgements - might be questionable and a lot of people won't know it because we tend to just click through all that). alternatively, a lot of people may feel uncertain about the changes and need time to adapt to it - people might avoid updating to ios 18 all together.

hidden features

its likely that this update has features they won't/haven't even mention in the promo. a lot of setting stuff might need your attention - so look for someone who is well informed about what should be on in settings and what should be off. don't be afraid to ask a search what some setting jargon means.

intuition

its likely an intuitive update - you might not need much time to get back to your daily functionality. it will be trial and error to discover that "oh yea that feature is there" or "oh yea that feature changed" when the update happens.

emotional impact, dreams, and subconscious

the journal app is definitely coming this update... but we might see something change with sleep tracking, mediation, etc. also in terms of emotional impact, it's likely to cause some emotional ups and downs - frustration, excitement, frustration, etc. which i have already been b!tching about with the app locking and app hiding feature - like i just know you are up to no good if your instagram is locked on your own phone...

caution

as always you should probably wait a bit before updating immediately because the glitches will be real. an update will definitely follow the initial one.

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