#little-diable15k

[earlgreydream]

SAVIOR. | Kylo Ren x reader

Some enemies to lovers(?) on Mustafar, for my love, @little-diable

for @little-diable's 15k celebration ... Kylo Ren, Smut, Page 66 ..... „The air felt hot and dusty.” From The Southern Book Club’s Guide to Slaying Vampires

cw: dubcon

Mustafar.

You were naive to think you could escape.

The air felt hot and dusty, choking you as you ran through burning trees. It felt like every nightmare you’d ever had — the ones you couldn’t wake up from, knowing you were prey with nowhere to run. Your heart slammed in your chest, pulse echoing in your ears as your wild eyes darted around, desperately searching for an escape.

Limbs of trees reached out to scratch you as you ran through the forest fire, everything a haze of red. Desperation to outrun those who scorched the planet made you fearful, knowing there was no real escape.

“You’ve got nowhere to run, rebel.”

The words echoed in your mind, not spoken aloud, but directly to you, through a divine power. Invisible hands halted your attempt to escape, slamming your body into the ground.

Kylo Ren watched you fight to breathe as you inhaled the dust, unable to escape the grasp of his force. He towered over you, face-to-face for the first time since Coruscant, when you were still undercover as a member of the First Order.

“Don't do this, Ren,” you hissed, staring up at the supreme leader, who had burnt down the planet and everything in it just to catch you.

“You’ll be made an example to anyone who dares to defy me,” Kylo swore, the hot blade of his lightsaber singing just inches from your throat.

Your chest heaved, wild eyes watching Kylo, waiting for his red fire to cut through you. The summer heat filled you with dread, watching Kylo stand over you with hate in his eyes.

Coruscant.

Things were different, then. What transpired only months ago seemed to be an entirely different life, lived by someone else. In a sense, it was.

Coruscant was the mission you never wanted. When you’d dedicated your life to the resistance, you didn’t anticipate being sent undercover to infiltrate the First Order. You wore the mask of an enemy, blending in and becoming someone else until you forgot who you were entirely.

The objective was simple: move your way up in the First Order, and gain the trust of Kylo Ren. Your mission was to gather intel to feed back to the resistance; when your commanders had assigned it, they pictured you sitting in meetings, taking notes on the outskirts of Kylo’s militia. At the time, the Jedi order thought they could trust you, and you thought you could trust them. Before Coruscant, you had no idea of the power you possessed, the power the rebellion kept a secret from you.

When Kylo Ren first laid eyes on you, the plan crumbled to dust. The moment you stepped into the throne room, you could feel it — the pull of the force pricking the edges. Kylo felt it too, your heart beating in sync as he failed to pry into your mind like he did with every other being.

“Leave us.” The command to the knights was sharp, the room clearing until you were the only one standing before him.

“Where have you come from?” Kylo Ren had once seemed menacing on his throne, adorned in a crimson glow. Now, his expression was pure curiosity, gazing at you with startlingly disarming eyes.

“Naboo, master Ren,” the reverence came naturally, and you found yourself lowering to your knees at his throne.

“It is an honor to serve The First Order,” your voice sounded foreign on your lips, speaking words you never intended to say.

Kylo reached forward, tilting your chin up until he held your gaze, studying every detail of your unfamiliar face. He was captivated by you, your mystique raised curiosity, not alarm. Nothing happened on his ship that he didn’t know about, but you, a young soldier from Naboo was unexpected.

“You wield the force?” He questioned, puzzled by the inability to tear apart your thoughts.

“No, master.”

“But you can, padawan, you’ve just not been taught,” Kylo answered, having no knowledge of the crack he’d sent through your alliances.

The Jedi order would have recognized the great power you possessed, even as you didn’t recognize it in yourself. Your gifts had been kept a secret, but here was Kylo Ren, a man meant to be your enemy, offering truth and guidance you were deprived of. The resistance and its leaders had deceived you, a betrayal far deeper than a political alliance. They had kept you from destiny, fearing that the ability to wield the force would lead you into darkness, having no idea you would one day learn to harness your power from the ruler of the Empire.

“I can show you the ways of the force," Kylo’s voice was smooth, pulling you to his outstretched hand, an invitation to leave everything else behind and stand at his side.

You didn't recognize yourself in the reflection of Kylo's eyes. Instinctively, you took Kylo's outstretched hand, letting him pull you to your feet.

.

"You have had no teacher?" Kylo questioned, the two of you standing in an empty room in the Star Destroyer.

He looked so different out of his suit, more relaxed in simple training robes. Here, Kylo didn't seem to be the menacing overlord that you'd once saw. With you, he was different, an attentive and guiding master.

"No," you shook your head, confliction slowly eating away at you.

The more hours you spent learning from Kylo, the less you wanted betray him. Your alliance to the order you'd spent a lifetime fighting for was broken, and now you sought solace in him. Your allegiance to Kylo bloomed as your abilities grew, and the hard walls around him slowly came down, letting you in. Even as he opened up about who he was, you kept the secret of your origin, praying every night that he didn't have to find out.

Your lost soul found a home in Coruscant, lines blurring between you and Kylo as you spent intimate hours meditating and practicing. His hands that were once your waist to position your body, guided you until you found yourself pressed between Kylo’s strong body and his mattress. 

The first time Kylo took you to his bed, he was tender, attentive to your pleasure. As your addiction to him grew, so did the constant need for one another. You begged Kylo to fuck you with his hand around your throat, bending you over the closest surface because you couldn’t get enough. Every second with Kylo was sexually charged, craving him like a drug. He was your teacher, your solace, your lover, and your savior — before you knew it, Kylo became everything to you. 

Kylo Ren changed when you entered his existence. He had never experienced a love like you, constantly starving for your touch. 

In a year, everything fell apart. 

You’d long forgotten the Jedi, your allegiance, and your mission, until the day they invaded Coruscant. What you would never be able to forget was the betrayal on Kylo's face when they called you their commander. You could no longer run to your savior, nor to your fellow jedi, so you ran away, alone, to Mustafar.

.

Mustafar.

You wrists were held behind your back with imperial binders, and you were completely naked - save the collar that Kylo had clasped around your throat. You glared up at him from your kneeling position at his feet, chest heaving as you struggled against his force keeping you still at his mercy.

Part of you yearned to throw yourself at him, begging for forgiveness, explaining to him that you had abandoned the resistance to follow him. You ached to tell him that every night you spent in bed with Kylo made you fall more in love with him, that you'd rather perish than live without him another day, but the words died in your throat.

Your words would do no use anyways - Kylo had made up his mind to make an example out of you, to humiliate you before the entire First Order.

Your skin burned as you felt the eyes of his knights on your body as they filed into the room, taking their places around the table. You couldn't hide from them, your sins and entire self exposed to those you once ruled over.

"Our little rebel traitor is going to pay for her sins," Kylo's voice was ice cold, sending a shudder down your spine.

Instinctively, you leaned back into Kylo's legs, subconsciously searching for shelter. He grabbed the back of your neck in one of his large hands, hauling you to your feet, dark eyes blazing down at you, starvation and thirst clouding his judgement.

"Get on the fucking table, now," he growled, manhandling you onto the cold metal surface, your wrists above your head as you laid spread out.

"Since you'll sell yourself to the jedi and the empire, my knights can have you as well."

He sank back into his throne, draped lazily over the armrests, legs parted to reveal how hard he was just from the sight of your nude form dripping on the table.

You strained against the binders on your wrists, hating yourself for how wet you were just knowing Kylo was watching, the knights pulling your legs apart as one knelt between your legs.

You helplessly watched Kylo as Vicrul's hands wrapped around your soft thighs, his tongue warm and wet against your sex, pulling a pathetic whine from your lips. You hated him for it - hating him for making your hips raise, begging for more as he ate you out, sucking on your clit and pushing thick fingers inside of you. Your muscles contracted around you, other knights groping your body, playing with your nipples and gagging you with their fingers.

Meanwhile, Kylo watched, freeing himself from the black trousers that hugged his thick thighs. You watched as he stroked his cock to the sight of you, fighting not to come immediately from the filthy noises the knights pried from your parted lips.

You ached for him to fill you, your cunt throbbing with need, despite the overwhelming touch of the knights, ripping orgasms from you despite how hard you fought against it. Before you could stop yourself, you were crying out to him, calling his name as your back arched off the table, gasping for air.

Your ears were ringing, and all at once the knights retreated from you, exiled from the room by Kylo. He stood abruptly, dark robes falling from his shoulders, his strong body fully on display for you. You felt the binders release your wrists, and you pulled your limbs to your body, trembling on the cold table.

"I didn't betray you," you rasped, knowing Kylo could read your mind, prying through your thoughts and your memories, allowing him in.

He said nothing, approaching you slowly. Kylo grasped your jaw, holding your head up, forcing you to look him in the eye.

"You will never run from me again."

"Yes, master."

Kylo's lips were hot and heavy against yours, pulling you into his body, kissing you violently. He'd had every intention to take you back to his chambers, but the second you touched, he couldn't resist, climbing over you on the table in his throne room.

His hand hooked under your knee, pushing it to your shoulder, rubbing the head of his cock against your entrance. He ignored your whimpering pleas, taking his time, marking your throat with his lips. All the air left your lungs as he finally pushed inside you, much bigger than all of the knights who had violated you only moments before.

Your back arched as he split you open, pressing your chest to his, your hands pulling his thick black hair. He bottomed out, his hips pressed against your ass. Kylo hushed you, wrapping an arm around your torso before fucking you at a blistering pace. It was desperate and violent with need, tearing you apart for leaving him, and putting you back together all at once. You felt his velvety skin drag against your walls with every thrust, Kylo using the force to circle your clit so he could keep both hands on you.

His skin was slick with sweat, black hair sticking to his forehead as he moaned, biting your shoulder and burying his face in you, his thrusts stuttering as he filled you until cum was spilling out and smearing between your thighs.

"I'm not finished with you," he panted as you sank back into the surface, trying to catch your breath.

Kylo flipped you over so he was lying on his back, your knees on either side of his wide hips. You could barely hold yourself up, muscles shaking as you leaned over him.

"Kylo, I can't—"

"Ride me." He commanded, leaving no room for argument or protest.

He reached up and wrapped his hand around your throat, holding you up as you rolled your hips, feeling his cock twitch inside you, moving easily despite your trembling thighs.

"Look at me. Watch yourself take your master," Kylo's other hand lightly smacked your cheek, prompting you to open your eyes, holding his gaze for a long moment.

You wrapped your hands around his wrist for leverage, thankful his other hand was helping your hips, before obeying his wish. Your gaze fell, watching him disappear inside your body every time you sank down, feeling him set fire to every nerve ending in your body, your limbs screaming for release. Kylo held your weight, guiding you to finish until you collapsed on his chest, aftershocks shuddering through your weakened body.

"You'll have to earn back your place at my side," he tilted your chin up, dark eyes showing the slightest bit of mercy.

"I'll do anything," you breathed, chasing his mouth for a kiss.

"Start by getting on your knees."

#little-diable15k #kylo #kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren smut #kylo smut #kylo ren x reader smut #kylo imagine #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren fanfic #star wars #adam driver

[runnning-outof-time]

There’s Something About These Grounds… | Tommy Shelby x Mrs Shelby & Reader

Request: no - written for @zablife ‘s 2k celebration and @little-diable ‘s 15k celebration

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Mrs Shelby & Reader

Summary: Mrs Shelby takes a walk and stumbles upon a dark secret that is hidden on the grounds of Arrow House. She's given a warning about the future of her family, a warning that makes her new husband wonder if she should even leave the house at all.

Warnings: language, drinking, smoking, paranormal themes, implications of past and future miscarriages (nothing in detail), implications of suicide (nothing in detail)

Word Count: 3317

A/N: I…I’m not 100% sure what this is, but hey, I finished it - I think we’ll call it my best attempt at writing something that’s the complete opposite of fluff haha. I’ve given Mrs Shelby a name…she’s an OC but reader is also present here. Enjoy! :)

A/N 2: Lee and Chi - congratulations on your amazing milestones!! I’m so thankful that you’re both part of this amazing community…I can’t imagine it without you! Thanks also to Chi for allowing me to play around with the prompt - it’s bolded/italcized in the story…I hope I still got the gist of it!

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Comment/Message Me if you’d like to be tagged in future stories similar to this one!

The landscape got darker and more overgrown with each step Mrs Shelby took. She wondered why she'd decided to take a walk away from the manor that she resided in. At one point, she even considered abandoning her original idea and turning back to the house. But then she reasoned that anything would be better than being cooped up inside those dark walls for yet another day.

Her marriage to the man who owned the very estate she was walking on, Thomas Shelby, can only be described as a whirlwind. No one in either of their families knew of it happening until after the license was signed and they had taken a trip to Paris. What had bright promises at first now felt like the beginning of a prison sentence for the young woman.

It was Tommy's family that insisted they have the party that was taking place today. The bride was weary about it - she was never one to jump into the spotlight during social events, but Tommy's methods of convincing made it hard to say 'no'. He assured her that she'd be in control; that when she'd say that she'd reached her limit, the party would be over. It eased her worries when she agreed to it, but now that the day of the party was here, she was feeling uneasy once again.

So, in hopes to quell her building nerves, Mrs Shelby decided that she would escape the house and take a walk on its expansive grounds.

The landscape seemed to turn a darker shade of green the further she walked away from the manor, but she reasoned that the worry of being amongst some overgrown trees was affecting her much less than the worry of what would be happening later this evening.

She continued walking until she came upon a pond. The small body of water was surrounded by trees and shrubbery, and the fog that hung low over it added an eerie vibe to the atmosphere. As Mrs Shelby got closer to the pond, she noticed a woman standing in the middle of it.

"Hello?!" she called out, confusing quickly filling her as she walked closer to the water’s edge with caution. "Excuse me," she spoke again when the woman didn't respond or even turn to face her.

From her short distance away, she could see that this lady looked almost white, as if she'd been submerged in the cold water for too long and had lost all color. Her hair was wet and flat on her head, sticking to the skin of her shoulders that could be seen above the water.

Mrs Shelby felt a chill run through her body as she stayed focused on the mysterious woman, who still hadn't moved despite the other making her presence very known. "This is private property, you know," Mrs Shelby tried another direction, hoping that her voice held the authority that was needed to finally make the lady face her. But her words did nothing.

Frustration seeped into her bones as she willed herself to move even closer to the pond's edge. Maybe she didn't hear me, she reasoned as she prepared to call out again. But just as she opened her mouth, the woman completely submerged herself under the water, leaving not a trace of her behind. This made Mrs Shelby frantic. She looked everywhere - even kneeling down on the muddy ground and straining her eyes to see if she could spot her underwater - wondering how the lady could disappear from sight just like that.

The sudden voice that came from behind her made her jump.

"These woods are no one's property, darling." It had to be the woman who was in the water. Mrs Shelby was hesitant to turn and face the person, but when she did, she found the woman, who had disappeared just moments ago, standing beside her. She noticed that she was no longer wet, and was wearing a worn, white slip, something that was too cold to be wearing on a dark, autumn day. "They belong to nature."

"My husband would say differently," Mrs Shelby tried to stay calm, standing up and jutting her chin upwards slightly in hopes it would add to her act of confidence. She didn't want this woman to know that she was actually shaking in her shoes.

"Your husband does not know what he stands for," the woman was quick to say.

"Who-who are you and why are you here?" Mrs Shelby decided to ask, her voice faltering only slightly.

"My name is (Y/N)," the woman responded, "this is my home."

The second part of her statement made Mrs Shelby scoff slightly. "Impossible. My husband and I own these grounds. They've been in his hands for four years now," she spoke in a refuting tone.

"Don't be silly, Eloise. These grounds have changed hands many times," the strange woman countered, uttering a laugh of her own at the face that Mrs Shelby pulled when her name was said.

"How do you know my name?"

"I know things," (Y/N) spoke frankly. "I know things about you, about your husband. I know why your marriage occurred in the manner it did...it's not for the reason you keep telling yourself."

"I don't know what you mean..." Mrs Shelby wasn't sure if she actually wanted clarification.

"Tommy was lonely. He couldn't cope with himself, with his business and its demands. The whores weren't doing it for him anymore, and even though I told him that he could keep coming to see me, it wasn't enough for him. He needed someone who would be by his side constantly. Someone who could appease him physically. It's unclear to me why he chose you...since it seems you'd rather be away from him then by his side." (Y/N) ended her explanation by looking the other woman over, an unimpressed look present on her face.

"He and I love each other," Mrs Shelby tried to be indignant, but she didn't quite believe the declaration herself.

"That's what you try so hard to believe," (Y/N) snorted at the thought.

Mrs Shelby felt slighted by these words. She hastily tried to muster up the ability to take back the conversation, since it was clearly falling into (Y/N)'s hands. "We do. We've spoken of starting a family, of completing our home...a little brother or sister for Charlie." (Y/N) only laughed at what was said. Mrs Shelby scoffed at her reaction. "How dare you react in that way! This is not a laughable matter," she insisted, glaring at the grinning woman.

"You are so naïve to believe that it'll be that simple; that your wishes will be granted," (Y/N) stated, shaking her head. Silly woman, she thought.

"I don't see why they wouldn't be," Mrs Shelby furrowed her eyebrows at the other woman's cryptic statement.

"You've not lived here long enough to know what'll happen...to know what fate befalls every woman that sets foot on this property."

"What are you saying?"

"It's the land, Eloise. It's cursed. It took my babies, and it'll take yours too," (Y/N) words had an ominous tone to them, making Mrs Shelby shiver as she heard them. Nothing could have prepared her for what would come out of the other woman's mouth next: "it kept me here to make sure of it."

A mortified look formed on Mrs Shelby's face while a smirk formed on (Y/N)'s. The former of the two stayed frozen in her spot as the latter slowly retreated back into the trees that surrounded the eerie pond.

Even if Mrs Shelby wanted to, she couldn't ask the strange woman what her ominous message meant because (Y/N) had slipped completely out of sight. She'd practically vanished into thin air.

The conversation left Mrs Shelby reeling; questioning if any of it was even real. She tried blinking her eyes several times, wondering if doing so would do the trick of waking her up. Yes...maybe this is all just a twisted dream. But it wasn't. She was still standing out in the middle of the forest, the fog-covered pond still in front of her; the bottom of her dress still covered in the mud of the bank she kneeled on. So many questions were swirling through her mind as she grappled with what was real and what could possibly be made up.

She knew two things for certain: one, she couldn't stay out here a second longer, and two: she needed to speak to Tommy about this immediately.

Mrs Shelby was completely out of breath when she reached the doors to Arrow House. She rushed inside, squeezing herself through the people who were working hasilty to make sure finishing touches were in place before the party started. She gave them no thought as she frantically looked for her husband, moving so quickly through the crowd that she hadn't noticed he was in front of her until his hands were grabbing hold of her shoulders.

"Where're you running to, love?" Tommy asked, his brows furrowed as he took in the sight of his distraught wife. He watched closely as she took several breaths to calm herself down, and he placed pressure on her collarbones with his thumbs, hoping that it would aid the process.

"Tommy, I...I went out t-to walk and followed the, the path down to the trees, and then I walked further in and I just kept walking until I reached a p-pond, and I, I, I uh I didn't...I didn't..."

"Hey, slow down, Eloise," Tommy cut off his wife's frantic rambles with a steady voice, "catch your breath first before you talk again," he suggested, seeing her nod before he brought his hands from her shoulders up to her cheeks. He caressed them softly as he let his eyes drift over her body. "What's happened, eh? Why is your dress muddy?" he asked, his brows furrowing together again.

"I was telling you, I...I found a pond. And there was a woman in it."

"A woman?" Tommy was taken back by the information.

"Yes. She, she was in the water when I first saw her, but then she came to me and she, she...Tommy, we need to leave. We need to leave here, now," her voice might have been shaky, but she still said the final word with the dire emotion it needed.

"Why would we do that, darling?" he needed to ask, now full of confusion.

"We have to leave here if we want to have the family we talk about. We can't have a baby here, Tommy," the fear filling her body was present in her words.

"You're confusing me, Eloise," he bluntly said, hoping she'd get to the point of her worries and stop dancing around the problem.

"To keep them alive, Tommy," she spoke with a sense of urgency, "there's something in the woods...a woman...she said that she's going to take our babies."

Tommy took a few moments to let what was just said sink in. The cogs in his mind were now turning at the second mention of this woman. He knew now that it was no mistake made by his frantic wife. She must've encountered (Y/N). Just the thought of that happening made his blood run cold. He needed to think of a way to deflect this; to make her believe that this was nothing to be worried about. "I think you might have been outside for too long, love. Why don't you go upstairs and change for the party, eh?" he suggested, his eyebrows raised, showing that even though he'd asked a question, his suggestion wasn't actually up for debate.

"But I didn't...I know it wasn't..."

"Go on, love," he cut her off as she fumbled for the words, nodding his head towards the stairs. "Everyone's almost here."

Mrs Shelby bit on her lip as she fought to keep everything inside. It felt like she was on the brink of a breakdown, and Tommy surely had to see that. Why was he trying to diminish the situation? Didn't he care to know more of why she was reacting the way she was? Did he even want the family they had talked about? All of these questions were bouncing around Mrs Shelby's mind as her husband looked expectantly at her. There was no way that she could bring the conversation back now. It was over.

So she nodded her head ever-so slightly, silently agreeing with what he wanted her to do. That was all Tommy needed from her. He dropped his hold from her, leaning in to press a quick kiss to her lips before he mumbled 'good' and left her side. Mrs Shelby stood there for a moment, still overwhelmed from everything that had happened. But there was only one thing she could do now: get ready for the party and hope for the best.

"Fuck," Tommy breathed as he paced the floor of his office. He brought the glass of whiskey up to his lips and drank the rest of it, setting the glass down just as the door to the room opened.

"Frances said you needed me," the voice of his sister called out before she walked in from behind the door.

"Yes, come in," Tommy answered, waving his hand to her even though she'd already entered the room, "shut the door," he said then, fishing the pack of cigarettes out of his pocket.

"What's going on?" Ada decided to get right to the point. She was never one for beating around the bush, especially when her brother was so clearly being affected by something.

"Eloise just returned from a walk. She managed to find the pond," Tommy started, running his hand along the back of his head as he looked to the ground with a huff. His statement may have been vague, but Ada knew exactly what he was getting at.

"Oh, Tommy," she sighed in dismay. She watched her brother then, now seeing the stress and worry that was so clearly etched into his features.

"She told me she met the woman and that she talked to her," he gave more detail, sitting down on the couch with a sigh. "I don't know what I'm going to do to cover this up," he added, bringing the cigarette to his lips to take a long drag.

Ada stood in her spot, her arms crossed as she observed her brother. It didn't take much to notice that he’d already given this problem all of his attention. He may have seemed composed on the outside, but she knew that his mind was working on overdrive. "Maybe it's time you forgot about her," she offered a suggestion a few moments later.

"Forgot about who?" Tommy asked, not even bothering to raise his head from the couch's back.

"(Y/N)," Ada didn't hesitate in saying the woman's name. Hearing it made Tommy's head snap up so that he could look at his sister. He almost looked surprised at the fact that she'd dare say that name. "You have Eloise now. There's no longer a need to visit her anymore."

"She knows too much," he countered.

"Who?" Ada asked for specifics.

"(Y/N). She knows too much. Of me, of this land, of fucking everything. I don't want Eloise speaking to her anymore."

"What're you going to do then, forbid Eloise from leaving the house?" Her question was meant to be a joke, but it was one that made the lightbulb above her brother's head go off. She noticed it in the way Tommy moved, standing from the couch and stalking out of the room, on a new mission. "Fuck," she breathed with a sigh, knowing that his mind that been set and there'd be no changing it.

Ada wondered why Tommy cared so much about this woman; this person who was no longer living and breathing, yet was still chained to this world. He had told her about (Y/N) in depth: about how she lived a very unhappy life, how she'd gotten to the point where she had nothing left, how she went to that very pond and walked into it knowing that she wouldn't be coming back out.

What Ada didn't realize was that Tommy felt like he was connected to (Y/N); like she was the only person who understood everything he'd been through. Tragedy understood tragedy, and both (Y/N) and Tommy's lives had been filled with it.

So would Tommy really insert more control over his loving wife’s life just because she’d stumbled upon a spirit lurking on the grounds of their estate? That question may not be so easily answered.

Despite the events of the day, the party went smoothly. Tommy, while still having to play host alongside Eloise, managed to speak to his wife about the adventure she'd taken earlier. He convinced her that they wouldn't be moving, and even though she didn't quite understand his reasoning, she agreed to never again walk past the gates of Arrow House's garden; thereby relinquishing her ability to leave the immediate property.

Eloise was able to fall asleep the second her head hit the pillow, exhausted from everything that had happened. Tommy was still wide awake late into the evening. He had one more thing he needed to do.

It didn't take him long to find the pond on the property, and it was no surprise that (Y/N) was waiting for him when he reached the water's edge. She waded towards him, a smile gracing her lips as she stopped in front of him. "I knew you'd come back," she said, speaking in that sweet voice that he'd come to find comfort in. But he couldn't let it calm him this time.

"You shouldn't have spoken to her," his words were abrupt, hoping that she'd get the point and they'd move on.

"I just had to let her know," (Y/N) didn't let it go; instead she explained her side. Her smile dropped into a pout as she tipped her head slightly, feigning innocence.

Her look didn’t faze him. "You'll not speak to her again.”

"I'm not sure I'll be able to help it if the option presents itself," her smile returned, and any trace of innocence was gone.

"It won't...she won't be coming down here anymore," Tommy stayed assertive, still not letting her switch faze him.

"So it'll just be you then?" (Y/N)'s eyebrows raised.

"It'll just be me. Forget you ever saw her," he finished off with one more succinct statement before turning to leave her. Even if he wanted to, he knew he couldn't stay out here tonight.

"She knows what'll happen," (Y/N)'s voice stopped him before he could leave. "She knows about the curse. Knows what'll happen if you try..." she trailed off, not even finishing her sentence because he already knew what she meant.

Silence hung in the air as he stared her down, watching for any subtle movements she could make. "Make it so it doesn't,” he said after a few beats, not waiting to turn and walk away from the pond without allowing her to have a chance to respond.

"I'll see you soon, Tommy," she called after him, smiling as she watched him walk away.

He knew that there was no way she could make things change, even if she wanted to. There was something about these grounds...something that was darker than anything he'd ever known. But he'd be lying if he said he wanted to leave them.

Eloise may not like it, but at the end of the day, she didn't have a choice. She'd stay locked inside of Arrow House so that Tommy could ensure that his two worlds wouldn't collide again.

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @emotionalcadaver @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @cillmequick @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @gypsy-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @dlmlufics @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @brummiereader @areyenotfondofmelobster @everythingelseisextra @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife

MASTERLIST

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby one shot #tommy shelby oneshot #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders one shot #peaky blinders oneshot #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #little-diable15k #zablife 2k celebration

[nyxlaufeyson]

Mad Happiness

Loki Oneshot Masterlist - Main Masterlist

POV: Second

Ship: Loki x Reader

Type: Fluff + Angst

Wordcount: 1,290

Synopsis: Your parents are dead set on having you marry Thor, and forbid you from seeing Loki until they realize you and Thor won't work out.

A/N: This is for @little-diables 15k celebration contest! This fic uses a Hamlet quote which will be in bold and italics.

You paced the room, counting every step and taking calculated breaths. Isabelle, your handmaid, had gone to check the mail. You and Loki were banished from seeing each other, but that wouldn’t stop your communication. 

Isabelle walked in, and you rushed over to her. In her hands lay a golden envelope with the royal stamp. You kissed her on the cheek. “Thank you, thank you Isabelle!” 

She simply nodded. While Isabelle was not keen on your insistence to remain in touch with Loki, she could tell that the two of you were madly in love. She loved you like a mother, and wanted to see you happy.

You sat down at your desk, carefully opening the envelope with a letter opener so as not to rip it. The paper inside smelled of tea leaves and your prince. You unfolded it, holding your breath as you began to read.

My Dearest Flower,  It shall not be long until I hear your laugh again. Thor has managed to bring his mortal to Asgard, and Frigga is convincing Odin that they should give the couple their blessing. Once that is done, your parents will be forced to give up on the prospect of you and Thor. His love, Jane, is an interesting individual. I believe you will like her. Remind Isabelle that I am deeply indebted to her for delivering these letters. I feel mad enough as it is without seeing you, if I had no communication at all I would surely die.  Yours forever, Loki

You made your way to your bed with the letter still in hand, laying down on your back. Isabelle watched you blush and smile at the ceiling as she moved to get you ready for bed. 

His love was something you could hold onto, even after your parents forbid you from meeting with him. Isabelle stood at the foot of your bed, trying to get your attention away from the sparkling daydreams that filled your head. 

With a wave of her hand, you came back to the room and gave her a soft smile. “Oh! Loki sends his thanks. He says he is ‘deeply indebted’ to you.” 

Isabelle chuckled. “Smooth talker, that one is. You better keep an eye out for lies.” She talked like she believed Loki to be the dark prince of lies. However, she sensed that he would never lie to you.

You let her help you up, still dazing. “I love him.” You whispered, and she sighed, taking your hand and walking you over to the bath. 

“I know.” She said simply, undoing the strings on your clothes and helping you step into the warm bathwater. 

As she scrubbed you, your mind wandered to the first time you told your parents about your love for Loki. They had looked at you indecorously, calling you mad.

“You're young, you don’t know what you want. You don’t know what’s best for you.” Your mother said.

“We are the only ones looking out for your future, and you repay us with these childish feelings?” Your father asked, shaking his head. “Absolute madness.”

They had already been quite upset, but you made it worse with your reply. “Aren’t we all a little mad? What is love if not madness?”

Your father slammed his fist on the table, dismissing your words. “That’s enough. Go to your room.” You began to protest, but it fell on deaf ears and you were forced to retire for the night into your room.

Even now, with Thor clearly in love with another, they did not give up on trying to get you in wedlock with the crowned prince. No matter how many times you declared that you loved Loki. It didn’t matter that he was still a prince, it wasn’t good enough for them.

They called your love for each other immature. They said that you weren’t thinking clearly, and had tried several times to snap you out of your ‘trance.’They declared your love to be out of a delirious high of happiness that made you throw all of your common sense out the window. 

You couldn’t care less what your parents thought about you and Loki. You had never wanted to marry Thor anyway. Although he was a total sweetheart, he didn’t have your heart. And you didn’t have his. Thor fell for a Midguardian girl that he met during his brief banishment to Midgard.

It wouldn’t be long until your parents would be forced to accept reality. Once Thor and Jane were married, it would all be okay. You just had to hold on a little bit longer.

~~~~~

A sob burst out from downstairs. It was your mother. You rushed downstairs, finding your mother crying on your father’s shoulder. In his hand was a letter, an envelope with the royal stamp laying open beside him. 

A grin spread across your face, despite your better judgment. You quickly smothered it, not wanting to further upset your parents.

“What’s all the fuss about?” You asked, walking over to them. Of course, you could easily tell that the letter they just opened announced Thor’s wedding with another.

Your mother barely could stop her cries to talk to you. “We-” She managed to choke out. “We have received a royal wedding invitation.”

You let yourself genuinely smile. “That’s wonderful.” You said. Your father scowled at you, although he was not surprised in the least. 

“Now what are we going to do! Our daughter will never become royalty!” You refrained from rolling your eyes.

Walking over to your mother, you took her hand in yours. “Mother, I believe you are mistaken. Remember how there are two princes?” You asked, and she glared at you.

She shook her head, frowning. “Loki does not have the reputation that Thor does, and he will tarnish your-and our-reputation.” 

“Mother, please. Reputation or not, I still love him, and he loves me. Why can’t you see that? Shouldn’t you want nothing but joy for your daughter? He brings me happiness! A happiness that often madness hits on, which reason and sanity could not so prosperously be delivered of. Deprive me of this mad happiness and I will not be able to function. I may be mad now, but you have not seen the least of just how mad I could be without my beloved.”

Your parents stood silent, stunned by your words. The clearing of Isabelle’s throat made you turn around to find her standing with a gaping Loki. You curtsied, and facing you, Loki recollected himself and regarded your parents. 

They ignored him, much to your dismay, so you turned around to scowl at them. They seemed to recollect their senses and bowed.

Loki gave them a tight smile. “I have come to ask of you to join me as my date to the royal wedding. If that is alright with your parents.” He knew they wouldn’t say no. They couldn’t.

Your father sighed, having weighed his options. Although Loki wasn’t the perfect individual for you, he would have to work now that Thor was off the table. Plus, you were right, he was still a prince. Second in line to the throne, which wasn’t completely undesirable. “Of course, your highness, we approve. Isabelle, how about you fetch some tea for our guest?” 

Isabelle rushed off to get some tea, and your parents left you alone. Loki slowly walked up to you, looking you in the eyes. It took every ounce of self control that you had to not immediately run into his arms and kiss him. “My love.” 

“My prince.” You breathed, and he took your hand and kissed it. You dropped your self control, removed your hand from his lips, and smashed your lips onto his.

TAGS: (Comment or inbox me to be added/removed; along with what to be tagged for): @michief-dream @iceeericeee

#loki #loki fanfic #fanfic #marvel #loki fluff #loki friggason #loki laufeyson #loki oneshot #loki x reader #loki x you #loki fanfiction #loki/you #loki/reader #loki x y/n #loki/y/n #little diable15k #little-diable15k

[whitedarkmoonflower]

Until the death us parts

Assassin!Sihtric x Templar!reader

Authors note: This is a fic for @little-diable 15K celebration. It's the first time I dive into another universe, but unusual tasks require unusual solutions. Thank you so much @st-eve-barnes for brainstorming with me!

The rules: " (..) I'll choose one of the books listed above and will select a sentence I can find on the page belonging to the number you've chosen for your ask. You can do with the sentence/quote as you please, but it has to show up in the fic."

My sentence: “We do it wrong, being so majestical, to offer it the show of violence, for it is as the air, invulnerable, and our vain blows malicious mockery.” From Hamlet by William Shakespeare.

Warnings: mention of violence, angst, SMUT, 18+. Assassins Creed is used only as a background setting without exploring any further.

Word Count: 4,6K

Tags: @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @hb8301 @zillahvathek @alexagirlie @gemini-mama @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf

It must be late in the evening already, there is no way of telling for sure, as the small laboratory-like room with featureless walls, painted a stark white, has no windows, but you feel your stomach growling and that is a sure sign. Your eyes keep drifting to the other side of the room. The light from the flickering fluorescent lamp at the ceiling is feeble, but it is enough to make out Sihtric's features pretty clearly. He's still asleep on what looks like a surgery table, wrists and ankles strapped down.

You have failed. For the first time in your life you have failed your mission and that has brought you here in this damn cell together with the one and single reason for your failure. If someone had told you that you'd fall for your target, you'd have laughed right in their face. But here you are, still trying to wrap your head around it. It was so unexpected, this whole thing. Sihtric was different. Kind. Gentle. Warm. For the first time in your whole life, someone had cared about you without wanting anything back. 

You feel anger slowly spreading within you, pulsing through your veins and making your cheeks blush. But it's not directed at him; it's aimed squarely at yourself. You should have come clean earlier, but fear of losing him held you back. For once in your life, you craved a brief taste of normality – being in love with a charming, handsome Dane, just a normal gay from next door, whose only flaws were fondness for crazy haircuts. How foolish! Deep down, you knew it couldn't last. You knew who he was far too well. You knew why the Order had set you on him. You just hoped you had a bit more time… Now it's all over anyway.

—---------------------------------------------

It's just an ordinary autumn day, kind of gray and windy, and there's this soothing sound of rain hitting your umbrella as you walk up the library stairs. You love your new job although it is not that new anymore. It served your purpose and allowed you to sneak into Sihtric’s life without raising any suspicion. He was a frequent guest there for his love of the books and you were the new and pretty librarian - what a perfect setting. 

For you, books have always been more than just bound paper; they are portals to other worlds. Each time you open one, it feels like you're stepping into a world where magic is real, and heroes are fighting the good fight. These stories are your happy place, where you can dive into adventures where anything can happen, where the little guy wins, and the good always beats the bad. You've always wanted to be like those heroes in the stories. You kind of convinced yourself that you were, but lately, it's been harder to keep believing that.

You love the library's peaceful vibe, a place of calm and age-old wisdom. The dim, gentle light streaming through tall windows bathes the bookshelves in a warm glow, and the hushed murmurs of readers add to the tranquil ambiance. It's like a sanctuary free from the strictures of any creed, a testament to free will and creativity – ironically, the very things you're trained to suppress and eliminate. 

Why? It’s a question that does not let go of you lately. You repeat the mantra ingrained in you during your training – to protect the innocent, to end violence – but doubts linger. Can violence really put an end to violence? It’s not that easy, you snarl at yourself. Yet, this nagging inner voice has only grown louder since Sihtric came into your life, challenging your beliefs with such force that at times it's overwhelming. Sometimes you can’t stand it anymore, you lock yourself up in the bathroom, open the shower and cry biting your fist to the blood.

You are so lost in your thoughts that you don’t even notice the figure that accidentally collides with you just as you reach the top of the stairs. 

"Oops, sorry!" someone blurts out, but before you get a chance to reply, the stranger has already vanished into the throng of students at the entrance. You're left with a strange, uneasy feeling in your stomach. Instinctively, your hand reaches into your pocket and there it is – a small, folded note that makes your face turn pale as you clutch the door handle for support.

“PR275 4 A7 H3 

P19, L160 

2 28 5 19 14 10 20 6 13”

You don't even need to read it to know what it means, yet you find yourself dashing through the spacious corridors, coat flapping open, scarf still wound around your neck, trailing in the air. Your heart pounds in your chest, the blood roars in your ears. The sound of your shoes slapping against the polished wooden floor is stark against the library's usual quiet. You cling to hope. Until you haven’t deciphered it, there is still hope, you try to convince yourself, even though deep down, you know it's a vain hope.

"Hey, slow down! What's the matter?" comes the concerned voice of your boss from the office on the left.

You barrel past her, not stopping or even glancing back. You don’t care. You know this place so well, every corner and crevice, it propels you forward, guiding you even as your thoughts whirl in chaos. "PR" - that's English literature, located at the far end of the corridor. The code refers to the English Renaissance period, 1500-1640. You head for the first aisle on the left, bookcase 4, shelf 7, third book. It has to be there.

The warmth in the library is suffocating. Sweat beads on your forehead as you hurriedly unbutton your coat and fling it to the ground, the scarf landing atop it in a heap. You're breathing hard, a mix of exertion and sheer anxiety, as your eyes dart over the book titles, scanning spine after spine for the one that holds your fate. Finally, your shaking hands grasp the book - William Shakespeare's "Hamlet."

"Come on, hurry up," you mutter to yourself. Page nineteen, line 160. 

“We do it wrong, being so majestical, to offer it the show of violence, for it is as the air, invulnerable, and our vain blows malicious mockery,” you read the line out loud without realizing it, quickly moving to the nearest table to grab a pen. 

You unfold the small piece of paper and start counting:  one, two, it’s “e”. One, two, three… twenty seven, twenty eight - “l”. One, two, three, four, five - “i”. Your heart pounds as if desperate to break free from your chest. But there's no need to go further; you know what it spells. Yet, you can't stop, you keep counting and writing down letter after letter. You need to be sure. Your fingers tremble as they slide over the paper: "e", "l", "i", "m", "i", "n", "a", "t", "e". ELIMINATE.

Your eyes keep returning to the paper, tracing over each letter repeatedly, while your lips silently mouth the word that signifies the end of your fairy tale. You quietly pick up your coat and scarf, your movements slow, defeated, and begin the solemn walk back to the entrance.

"I quit," you declare, your words sharp as you stride past your boss's office. You don't pause to see her reaction, her astonishment. You just walk out, pushing through the big, heavy library doors. Once outside, you lean against them, feeling their solid presence at your back.

The rain pours down relentlessly, drenching you completely. It seeps into your clothes, your skin, soaking you to the core. Your hair, cold and wet, cling to your forehead. You can’t make yourself care, you don’t even register it. You stand motionless, lost in a daze as you gaze across the small square in front of the library. People hurry past with their umbrellas, like a sea of oversized mushrooms, but you can't seem to tear your eyes away from the scene.

"Why me? Why now?" The questions hammer in your mind, unanswerable and haunting.

—----------------------------------------------

“Hey, honey! I’m home. How was your day?” Sihtric’s familiar, cheerful voice rings out from the hallway.

“Terrible,” you whisper to yourself, still staring out of the window. 

"Please, don’t. Just stay back, don’t come any closer, not yet," you silently beg. You know deep down it doesn't really matter if he hangs back a bit longer; it's not going to change anything. It's just putting off the inevitable, really. But you can't help it. You're clinging to these last few normal moments, trying to stretch them out as long as possible before everything flips upside down.

Your knuckles are white, gripping the hilt of your Poseidon, and you compulsively check the silencer for what must be the twentieth time. The footsteps are getting louder now, and there are those squeaky floorboards right outside the door. As the first one creaks under his weight, you know Sihtric is just about to walk into the living room. Every creak feels like a countdown, and you're just hoping he'll take his time, maybe get distracted by something, anything. You're not ready, but then again, you wonder if you'll ever really be. The sound of those footsteps, so familiar and usually so comforting, now feels like they're marching right through your heart.

You can't help it – you just have to see him one more time. You want to soak in those eyes of his, thick-lashed and mismatched, that always seem to look at you so seriously but kindly. You're craving that warm, bright smile that lit up at the sight of you after a long day, and oh, that infectious laugh of his that gets you giggling every time, no matter what. But you know this moment's going to get swallowed up by anger and fear real soon. Slowly, you turn around to face him, your right hand tucked away behind your back. You're doing your best to smile, but it's shaky, and you can feel your nerves all over the place. It's just a moment, but to you, it feels like forever. You let your eyes roam over his face, trying to burn this image of him into your memory – that neat goatee, those full lips, his straight nose and strong cheekbones, and finally, those big, deep eyes that always seem to say so much. As your eyes lock with Sihtric's, you feel this weird shiver run down your spine.

That shiver turns into full-on tremors as Sihtric's concerned voice cuts through the silence. "Hey, sweetheart, what's wrong? You look like you've just seen a ghost. Everything okay?" His eyebrows pull together in worry, his eyes filled with concern.

In one swift motion, almost like a reflex, you pull your gun from behind your back, pointing it straight at Sihtric. "Don't move," you whisper, the words barely escaping your lips, as tears start to form in your eyes. "I'm sorry, babe."

"Baby, what the hell is this? What's happening?" Sihtric's voice is a mix of shock and disbelief, his body freezing in place. You want to pull the trigger, you really do, but your fingers just won't move. They're like they're not even yours anymore. A cry breaks from your lips, raw and pained, a sound of someone who's reached their breaking point, as you realize you can't do it. There's no way you can pull that damn trigger.

In just a heartbeat, Sihtric's right there, up in your face. His hand grips your throat, pushing you hard against the wall – his speed and strength just incredible. You can barely breathe,  eyes wide with fear, hands clawing at his in a vain attempt to break that iron hold threatening to suffocate you. When he finally lets go, you drop to the floor, coughing and gasping for air, your head spinning like crazy from the lack of oxygen.

“You’re a Templar,” he spits the words out like they were poison, an accusation, a curse, his mismatched eyes burning with disgust and resentment, as he glares down at you. “You’ve been spying on me this whole time.”

"I was, at first," you manage to gasp out between coughs, tears streaming down your face. "But not anymore, Sihtric, I swear. Please, you have to believe me."

"Believe you? Why the hell should I?" His voice is bitter, a blend of disbelief and scorn.

You flinch as Sihtric's rough hand clutches your hair, yanking your head back against the wall. “What have you been telling them? Did you report on every time I fucked you?” Sihtric snarls in your face, mockery in his voice laced with an undercurrent of sadness, even pain.

"I didn't, I swear..." you start, but his hand comes down hard across your face, cutting you off and leaving you tasting blood.

"Don't lie to me!" he roars, his face inches from yours. "You were just about to shoot me. What did I ever do to you to deserve that?"

You're about to say something else, but then you both hear it - footsteps coming up the stairs, voices, though muffled, getting closer.

"Get out of here, now," you hiss at Sihtric, grabbing his arm as you try to get back on your feet. "I'll handle them. Look, you might not believe me, but I'm not your enemy. Just go!"

Sihtric's bewildered gaze flickers between you and the door, his grip loosening. He is listening to the growing noise outside. “Go,” you urge, “I'm done for anyway. There's no way out for me. But you – you can still make it.”

He hesitates, eyes darting, weighing if this is a trap, a desperate attempt to win back his trust. But the choice is taken out of his hands. The sounds outside are getting closer, more urgent. It's clear there are too many of them for even both of you to handle.

—---------------------------------------------

And now you're here, in this small, windowless room, feeling the walls close in on you, the air almost too thick to breathe. You close your eyes, but there's only silence, the room soundproof, leaving you with nothing but the sound of your own racing heartbeat.

"What are you doing here?" Sihtric’s hoarse voice jolts you, but you don't bother turning around. There's no need; it's just the two of you. It was about time he woke up.

"I'm locked up here with you," you snap, frustration boiling over. Your hands tangle in your hair, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you slide down against the wall.

"Would you mind untying me?" Sihtric's voice is oddly casual, as if this were a normal conversation over dinner.

"Why? So you can have another go at killing me?" you can’t help but smirk at yourself, as if it mattered anyway. To you, it feels like you're already dead. You can't fathom why they left you alive, locked up here with him. You are useless to the order now and useless things are disposed of. Perhaps this is your punishment – to face death at the hands of the only man you ever loved. Anger surges through you, propelling you to his side in three quick steps. Furiously, you tug at the leather straps binding his wrists and ankles.

As soon as the straps loosen enough for Sihtric to free his hands, his iron grip clamps around your throat, pinning you against the wall. You don't resist. What's left to lose?

His eyes burn with hate, scorn, disgust. Gone is the mischievous, sweet, caring look you fell for. That charming, adoring gaze is lost forever. 

"I'm dead either way, and I'd rather it be by your hand than theirs" you manage to gasp out.

It's a bitter truth. If this was meant to be your punishment for failing your mission, then they've miserably failed. This is your twisted form of revenge, a testament to your self-determination – the power to choose your own end. A smile tugs at your lips at the irony. The powerful order, dedicated to dominating human free will, has failed to subjugate someone as seemingly insignificant as you. Fear doesn't grip you; there will be no begging. You've made your choice, and as you're pinned against the wall, Sihtric's fingers digging painfully into your skin, marking your throat, you can’t hold back a satisfied smile forming on your lips. 

"If I wanted you dead, you'd be dead already." Sihtric growls, his face twisted with anger. There's a certainty in his tone that sends a chill through you.

"So what's stopping you? Just do it already!" you shoot back at him, provoking deliberately.

"You betrayed me, played me, you're just a whore, selling yourself," Sihtric's voice is hoarse and raspy, his breathing growing heavier with each venomous word.

"Really? I think we're pretty much the same, you know. When were you planning on telling me the real you, Assassin?" you snap back, your voice just as sharp. 

You sense a subtle shift in Sihtric's behavior. His eyes intensely scan your face, almost as if trying to see through you, his face mere centimeters from yours. You can feel each of his breaths against your skin, hot and rapid. A whimper escapes you under the mounting pressure, tears brimming in your eyes, yet your gaze remains steadfastly locked with Sihtric's. Your breath is cut off, his grip tightening, and your eyes begin to roll back as darkness edges in. 

Then you hear it, rough and low, right by your ear. "I hate you," he growls, "I fucking hate you!" Sihtric breathes heavily against your ear, as his hands leave your throat and slide down, finding the bottom edge of your T-shirt and gliding beneath it. 

His touch is warm, firm and bruising as his hands start roaming your bare skin, pushing up your bra and squeezing your breasts roughly, angrilly. Sihtric leans closer, his nose in the hook of your neck as he inhales you sharply, almost desperately, a low growl rumbling in his throat. His lips and teeth are on your neck, grazing, biting, leaving marks on their way down to your shoulder, there is nothing gentle in the way he treats you, anger pulsing through his veins, but you are unable to contain the hungry moan, escaping your lips parted in a smugly grin.

The way Sihtric has you trapped against the wall with his body  lets you feel the hard bulge in his crotch, pressing against your thigh. Your head's all foggy, you are dizzy from not getting enough air, and from your thirst for more as you feel each bruising touch burning right through your skin, straight to your soul, reminding you hard that you're both here, both alive. Everything else just fades away. Right now, in this moment, it's just you and him, and the familiar heat pooling in your lower back and your walls clenching and pulsing are the only things your dazed mind can focus on. He can do whatever he wishes with you, you will not struggle, you will not protest, you are yielding, you deserve it, you accept it and crave for it, for one last time.

And in the next moment you are pulled away from the wall and bent over that metallic table, a loud whine escaping you from the force you crush against it, Sihtric’s hands pull down your jeans in one quick motion, leaving them half way at your knees. His one hand is on the back of your neck, pushing you firmly down against the table, holding you in place while the other pulls aside your already soaked panties, pushing his fingers inside you.

“Fuck, already dripping, like the filthy whore that you are. Do you like it? Huh? I will fuck that dirty smile out of you until you’ll not remember even your name anymore.” 

Your mind is too hazed, too immersed in the burning sensation in your core, to be able to formulate any words, as you arch your back, consumed by your hunger, your need to feel him inside you, to take everything he can give you, all of his anger, all of his hate and all of his love and desire, if it’s still there somewhere behind that maddening dark shimmer in his eyes. 

You hear him undoing his breeches, freeing his cock and giving himself a few strokes, his breath ragged and itchy. You shiver in anticipation as he places his leaking tip at your entrance and pushes inside your wet and throbbing cunt, sheathing himself with a low growl until the very end of his shaft. You cry out at the sudden stretch, not out of pain, it’s the overwhelming pleasure of feeling Sihtric filling you perfectly that makes you grab the edge of the table and push back against him as he starts thrusting into you, slapping his hips against your bottom with a relentless, breathtaking pace.

“Is that all you've got?” you hiss, hearing a curse leaving Sihtric’s lips, his heavy and rapid  breathing mingling with wild groans, as he ruts against you like a crazed beast driven by his anger.

“Give me more, Sihtric. I need more of you,” you cry out, your breath panting, your knuckles turning white from the force you are clutching the edge of the table, trying to spread your thighs, to open yourself to take in more of him. You want him, you need him, harder, deeper, you want to feel all of him, bringing you to the limit, splitting you open, possessing you, making you feel the life pulsing through your every vain.

“Fuck,” Sihtric groans, his hands on your hips now, his fingers digging deep into your skin, as he fastens his pace, snapping his hips against you, savagely, brutally, “It’s what you want, huh? Believe me, you’ll not be able to walk when I’m done with you.”

Sihtric’s hands land on your cheeks, parting them, as he watches your pussy swallowing his cock again and again, your arousal dripping down your thighs. The slaps of Sihtric’s hips against you, his rapid breaths and your moans of pleasure echo around the room. Your eyes start rolling back into your head as you feel your climax pooling; each time he pushes forward, his length reaches that spot inside you that makes your back arch and your thighs tremble, feeling the tension building up and bringing you ever closer to the edge.

Sihtric’s fingers tangle in your hair as he pulls you roughly up against his chest, his teeth on your neck, bruising more marks into it, the other hand sliding down to your clit, rubbing and circling it. He is angry, he is hurt and he fucking hates how much he loves and craves you; with each thrust, each snap of his hips, Sihtric feels his anger dissipating. You are his doom, his damnation, his sweet madness and there is no escape, no cure from it. He just wants to fuck you into oblivion, to make you cum on his cock, screaming his name one last time, as there might be no tomorrow, no other day for it. 

“You’re mine and you’ll always be mine; nothing else matters,“ Sihtric’s breath comes out in harsh and ragged hot pants against your ear as he turns your head to kiss you harshly. A desperate sob escapes your lips as you answer his kiss, his words echoing in your ears and tears welling up in the corners of your eyes. 

“Sihtric…,” you whine in disappointment as he suddenly pulls out, but he flips you around, lifting onto the table with one swift move as if you were weightless, yanks off your jeans and panties and sinks back into you, both of you moaning heavily as he resumes thrusting into you with an insatiable frenzy.

“Damn, how I love those sounds you make,”  Sihtric hisses in your ear, “Give me more of them. I bet they all are watching us right now, straining against their breeches. Let them hear you. I want you to let them hear you,” he demands and the dirty sounds that depart your lips, something between moaning and whining, are probably the most lewd ones you have ever made.

Your fingers slide up his arm until you reach his shoulders and you pull yourself closer to him, pressing your parted lips against his. You bite his lower lip, hard, but he doesn’t pull away, his lips crash against yours, kissing you with such desperation that you find yourself struggling to breathe. 

“Say it… say that you are mine,” Sihtric growls into your mouth.

You look into his expressive, mismatched eyes, rolling back into his head from pleasure that you are giving him. You love the sharp features of his face, married with scars on his forehead and right cheek, you are his and he is yours, now and forever and it doesn’t matter how long this forever will last as you are sure to find him and claim him again and again in all the possible afterlives. 

“Yours, only yours and nothing can ever change that…we are bound, forever, until the death us parts,” you whisper in between your heavy breaths with half lid eyes. 

“Look at me. I want you to look at me,” Sihtric hisses, wrapping his fingers around your neck and squeezing slightly, his breath panting as he locks his gaze with you, and you do as he asks. 

“Fuck, I could never hate you,” Sihtric breathes, his forehead touching yours, as he keeps thrusting into you, “Do you hear me? Never! I love you too much.” 

You can only whimper incomprehensibly as his words make your walls start clenching around him. You try to hold back, to prolong the moment; from his rapid, shallow breaths, his thrusts getting sloppy, you feel that he is close too and you want to take him with you into oblivion.  

“I can feel you, don’t fight it,” Sihtric’s firm voice reaches you through your dazzled consciousness, “Let it go, cum for me,” and you can do nothing but to obey as his words push you over the edge, your fingers tangle in his hair and you feel your climax rolling, washing over you in waves of pure bliss as you fall deeper and deeper into oblivion, his name on your lips like a prayer. You come undone, your cries of ecstasy filling the room, your nails digging into Sihtric’s shoulders. Sihtric’s pace doesn’t falter as he keeps fucking you through your orgasm, thrusting his cock as deep as he can, your thighs trembling around his waist; you are spent and pliable, whimpering mess, spasming around his cock and a moment later his own moans and groans start bouncing off the walls as Sihtric follows you spilling himself deep inside you, your eyes locked and foreheads pressed against each others. 

"I love you. I love so much,” you murmur, cupping his face in your palms as he breathes heavily against your skin. Tears trail down your cheeks, and your lips tremble just above his.

"I'm sorry, baby. I'm so, so sorry. I couldn't do it. I just couldn't do it," you whisper, barely getting the words out through your sobs.

"Shh, I know. It's okay, everything's going to be alright," Sihtric draws you closer into his embrace, pressing gentle kisses across your face. You know he is lying, but it doesn’t really matter. Right now, it’s enough. You just lean into him, letting his steady rocking soothe you.

"You know they'll use me against you," you murmur after a while, “You should have killed me.”

The room goes quiet except for your heavy breathing and the comforting sound of Sihtric's lips in your hair. "Let them try," he finally says, his voice low but determined, holding you close.

#little-diable15k #sihtric #sihtric kjartansson #sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #sihtric smut #modern!sihtric x you #the last kingdom #tlk #modern!sihtric x reader

[little-diable]

Little-Diable's 15k celebration

15k how fucking insane is this?! It's a number I certainly can't grasp, yet I am so insanely grateful for it. I love y'all so much, thank you for loving my writing, for loving my weird self, and for being so kind.

But enough with the sappy words, let's focus on a proper way to celebrate this milestone, shall we?

As promised this is a celebration for writers and readers (a big thank you to @deathofpeaceofmind for brainstorming with me and for designing the lovely header): here is what we'll do:

Be aware, this challenge/celebration is tied to a prize you can win.

I've chosen five of my all time favourite books, which are: The Song of Achilles, The Southern Book Club's Guide to Slaying Vampires, Hamlet, Lord of the Rings (all parts in one), The Last Kingdom (first part of the series).

For the writers:

Choose one of the following characters: Tommy Shelby, Dean and/or Sam Winchester, Aaron Hotchner, Spencer Reid, Negan, Sihtric, Finan, Tom Riddle, Kylo Ren, Jasper Hale, Loki

Send me an ask with the character, the genre (smut, angst, fluff), and a number between 5 and 159

I'll choose one of the books listed above and will select a sentence I can find on the page belonging to the number you've chosen for your ask. You can do with the sentence/quote as you please, but it has to show up in the fic.

You'll have time to write your fic till the 10th of December 2023.

Please only write reader-insert fics, use a keep reading tag, and use appropriate warnings. It can be as dark, as angsty, as smutty, as fluffy as you want, there is no limit for the word count. You can combine this with other challenges if you want. You can also write more than one fic for this celebration.

Post the fic with #little-diable15k, message me if I don't reblog it within two days.

Since this is a challenge where you and a reader can win something, please try to actually post your fic till the 10th of December.

For the readers:

You have to actively read the stories posted for this celebration (of course only the ones you are interested in/comfortable with)

On the 11th of December I’ll post a Google doc where you’ll have time to vote for your favourite fic. The doc will be open for one week.

I'm asking you to reblog and comment the fics you enjoy, since this is tied to the prize you can win. I will also reblog every fic, so you can find them on my Tumblr as well.

Now about the prize for one lucky reader and one lucky writer:

Writers: I will list the fics you wrote in a google doc (the fics will be added on the 11th of December), where readers can vote on their favourite fics. The fic which gets the most votes is the winner of this challenge. I will contact you on Tumblr should you win, if you're comfortable with sharing your address / or a PO box with me, I'll send you a small gift; if you don't want to do this @deathofpeaceofmind will design a header for one of your fics as your prize. If there are more winners (meaning if there's a tie) we will find another prize more of you can have!

Readers: If you add your username to the google doc I can see who voted the most and who actively took part in reading. The one of you who votes the most (I will check if you did comment/reblog the fics on Tumblr), will be contacted through Tumblr, if you're comfortable with sharing your address / or a PO box with me, I'll send you a small gift; if you don't want to do this you can request a fic from me instead. If y'all are super active (which I’m hoping for!) we'll find another prize more of you can have!

I hope this is all clear and somewhat understable! I am so so excited for this, and I hope lots of you will take part in it!

Tagging some mutuals and writers/readers who may enjoy this:

@negans-lucille-tblr @writethelifeyouwant @writingliv @zablife @runnning-outof-time @notyour-valentine @springsteens @cillmequick @band--psycho @smellingofpoetry @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @earlgreydreamreplies @footballffbarbiex @thinkinghardhardlythinking @luveline @firefly-in-darkness @holylulusworld @gemini-mama @honeypiehotchner @bluetreecloud20 @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @carolina-thiell

#little-diable15k #writing challenge #dean winchester smut #tommy shelby smut #loki smut #negan smut #jasper hale smut #aaron hotchner smut

[notyour-valentine]

The Spirits that I summoned (Young!Tommy)

[Masterlist] [Taglist]

Summary: Where Arthur sees danger, Tommy sees a quick way to make some money and use people's prejudices against them.

Note: This is my participation for Chi @little-diable 's 15k celebration - what an accomplishment, and what an incredible, versatile body of work. In typical student mindset, I'm scraping the deadline, but I hope you enjoy all the same. The quote I drew was: Even as a child I felt it, and marvelled at the power of this woman who, though veiled, could electrify a room

All my writing is produced by an adult and created with an adult audience in mind (18/21+). You are responsible for your own media consumption. I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other.

Warning: Stereotypes of travellers (in line with what is shown in canon)

Wordcount: 1588

He twirled the coin between his fingers. It was a habit of his he knew he better ought to shake. 

Though his hand was hidden deep in the pocket of his brown worn trousers, Tommy knew one glance would give away his restless nature, his nerves. His weakness. 

Lucky for him, his counterparts weren’t always as perceptive. 

They were young, younger than he was, but not by much. And they were playing dress up, the same way the children were doing down at the fair, picking up wooden sticks and calling themselves knights. 

Oh they had chosen well, he had to give them that - sturdy boots made for walking, weatherproof coats, and thick scarves to keep out the cold. 

But the leather was polished to a shine, the shoes free from any scratch. And the coats had never seen repairs, at least none that were visible to the eye. 

The scarves matched the boots and the boots the purse and the purse the coat. All a little too perfect to be accidental. 

Besides, the shorter one of the two had forgotten to take her earrings off. 

Pearl, he could easily tell, even in the fleeing light, with a little gold stud. 

Tommy knew money when he saw it, and he saw it now in the shape of these two newcomers. 

“Go-good evening.”, one of them said, looking from one to the other. 

Arthur only glared at them suspiciously. 

“Are, ahm, are you one of the-”, she gestured to the illuminated camp site behind them. 

“Who’s asking?”, Arthur wanted to know, building himself up to his full height. 

He had a strange look in his eye as if he wasn’t sure whether to scare them off or take them to bed. Either one. Or both. 

“We, ah, well, we-”, the one stammered again, nervously fidgeting for words. 

“We want our fortunes told.”, the other one said sharply. “They say you people know how to read palms and teacups. We want to know our future.”

Do you now?, Tommy thought, his eye-catching the reflection of the moon on those earrings, those pretty, expensive earrings. Peal and gold. 

“Yes.”, the first one, the shy one said. “Please.”

“Oh I can read palms alright.”, Arthur said, running a hand through his hair. 

“Arthur,”, Tommy said, cutting off his older brother, who glared at him as if Tommy had slapped him. 

He gestured for his brother to take a few steps away. 

“What are you on about, Tommy?”, Arthur demanded to know. “I like the look of the tall one. You stay out of it.”

“Shut up and don’t think with your cock for once.”, he sneered. 

His brother’s face hardened. 

“You can either get your end wet, or…we can make a sweet little something off of them.”

Arthur shifted on his feet, humming under his breath. 

“You think?”, he said. “Bringing them to Aunt Pol? Or Queen Boswell?”

Tommy shook his head. 

“We’re not bringing them anywhere.”

Birmingham was too far away, where Polly was haggling with the baby and Ada, and that Boswell hag would only take more than her share of a cut. 

Besides, these girls weren’t kin. They didn’t know what they were asking for. So they wouldn’t know what they would receive either. 

Arthur didn’t seem too convinced. 

“Mother said not to mess with things we didn’t understand. That if we disrespect the traditions, there’d be punishment.”

Their mother had said that. Their mother had also had most of her visions when she had drunk a gallon of rum or whisky in a single evening. 

Tommy was already thinking about how much those earrings would buy them - food, or new winter shoes for the whole lot of them. Maybe even a horse they could train to race. 

He’d like a horse, but those shoes would have to come first. 

“Just let me do the talking, eh?”, he told Arthur before turning back to the women. 

“So what made you come to us?”, Tommy asked, after bringing them into Polly's wagon and telling Arthur to stand guard. 

He could see the girls' eyes dart around it, picking up in little details. The crochet curtains, the Black Madonna, the framed pictures of the family. The countless candles. 

The girls exchanged a look, then one glanced down while the other squirmed in her seat. 

“My brother thinks it's all a hoax.”, the first told her lap. “But he wasn't there when…”

She took a deep breath. 

“Our mother used to hire a woman to tell their fortunes. A traveller woman.”, she said. 

“We weren't allowed to be there, but we saw her enter. Even as a child I felt it, and marvelled at the power of this woman who, though veiled, could electrify a room.”

She dropped her voice to a whisper. 

“Everything she said came true.”

Tommy nodded solemnly. 

“It's good to know you have a respect for these matters.”, he said. “Oftentimes those that are not learned in these arts underestimate the forces at play.”

He tried his best to choose words as ceremonious as possible. 

“Are you sure you want me to read your palms and tell your future?” 

The girls nodded eagerly. 

“We have money!”

She reached into her purse and pulled out a few coins. Tommy knew at a glance it wasn't a stingy offer, but the pearls would be worth more and so he shook his head. 

“Knowledge of the future cannot be bought with coin. It has to be a trade.”

“A trade?”, the shorter one asked. 

Tommy hummed. 

“Sometimes they'd tell the farmers the days weather and get a few apples for their worries. A fair price for something trivial. Are you asking about something trivial?”

He already knew they weren't, that was why he was telling these lies. 

It wasn't long before one urged the other and she took off one of her earrings. 

Just like he had hoped. 

“I want to ask about women.”, she said, slipping off her gloves and handing her hands to him in a show of surprising determination. 

“On the continent there are whispers of a woman's emancipation, of votes for women and equal rights to men.”

Tommy nearly laughed. 

“Will that happen here in England too?”

She looked almost eager, like a child desperate for sweets. 

Tommy took her hand in his, squinted, then ran his fingers along her palm. 

Just like he had thought, a soft hand that smelled of expensive ointment, probably lavender. 

“I can see you think highly of the value and purpose of your sex.”, he said, before contonuing. “Others will come to realise it's indispensability in a more clear, more distinct way.”

Poor brother, father or lover to deal with the consequences of his words, but Tommy wanted that earring, so he decided to add just a little more. 

He took a deep shaking breath and nodded. 

“And yes- don't let the distance to the continent discourage you. What happens there will spread.”

He lowered her hand gently. 

“Me now.”, the other one insisted. 

“A moment.”, Tommy asked, dabbing his dry brow with his sleeve. “Tis not an easy task for me, nor was it an easy question.”

He bit back his smirk at the look of sympathy in the woman's eyes. 

Finally he cleared his throat and urged the other woman to give him her hand. Gently, he stroked her palm while glaring deeply into her eyes. 

“I'm getting married soon.”, she said. “Or I may be. I'm not too sure about him.”

“Do you love him?” Tommy asked. 

“I do, but…”, she sighed. “He is a soldier, training to be an officer.”

“And?”

“I'm not sure I want to be married to a young Officer in His Majesty's army. But it's a thankless business being a soldier's wife.”

“And now you have come for insight to clear your doubts.”, he asked, before glancing at her palm. 

He took more time now, running along the lines of her palm, shifting and squinting and making a right show of it. 

“I can tell you one thing.”, he said. “It will not be thankless.”

“No?”, she asked. 

“Oh no- if you think your intended is set for a dull career in the forces, you are much mistaken.” He said. “I see service, yes, duty and courage too, but it will not be thankless. It will be celebrated and honored and remembered for generations to come.”

“My George?”, she asked surprised. “You can see that just in my hand?”

“That and more.”, Tommy promised her, picking up in the glint in her eyes. She may not like the idea of being a soldier's wife, but she seemed to enjoy the thought of being a hero's ons. 

“Medals, marches, hymns-”, he nodded, trying to piece together what little he knew of soldiery, most of it what he had picked up from pinched newspapers. 

“And the pride of our whole nation.”

Wasn't that what they said soldiers were? Those soldiers at the races certainly thought they were- as if all of England should bow before them just because they put on a sense of importance along with their uniforms.

But those words made her beam from ear to ear- both now without their earrings, as they left, clearly content with their visions of heroism and women's rise. 

Tommy let them go gladly, his fingers toying with the earrings in his pocket. They were worth a pretty penny and could stretch far. 

Easy money, for once. He didn't even pity those two for their ignorance. Of course he had never learned to read palms or cards or dreams, why should he? 

He had never shared Polly's conviction or Arthur's fear. Why should he? It was all just smoke and mirrors, nonsense, and charlatanry. Nothing to lose sleep over, he thought, as he tossed one of the earrings up in the air and caught it again.

~

Thank you for reading - I'd love to hear your thoughts

Taglist

Overall

@lilyrachelcassidy @jyessaminereads @chlorrox @watercolorskyy @books-livre @quarterpastmidnight  @lilyevanswhore  @polishcrazyone  @zablife  @just-a-harmless-patato  @stevie75 @flyingjosephine-blog @runnning-outof-time @cillmequick @babayaga67 @butterfly-skinnylegend @shelbydelrey @mrkdvidal1989 @raincoffeeandfandoms @midnightmagpiemama @adaydreamaway08 @kmc1989 @trixie23

Tommy

@knowledgefulbutterfly @babayaga67 @signorellisantichrist @lespendy @geeksareunique @look-at-the-soul @lothbrokcore @rangerelik @elenavampire21 @evanore

#valentineswritings #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #young!tommy shelby #young!tommy #the spirits that i summoned #little diable15k

[little-diable]

Little-Diable's 15k celebration TIME TO VOTE

My loves!! The time is finally here for you to vote on your favourite fics that have been written for my 15k celebration.

As a small reminder:

The fic which gets the most votes is the winner of this challenge, and the author will win something small.

If you add your username to the google doc I can see who voted the most and who actively took part in reading. The one of you who was the most active (I will check if you did comment/reblog the fics on Tumblr), will be contacted through Tumblr and will also win something. If y'all are super active (which I’m hoping for!) we’ll find another prize more of you can have!

You have time to vote till the 18th of December.

Here is the link for the doc

Tagging the authors

@zablife @runnning-outof-time @notyour-valentine @holylulusworld @band--psycho @nyxlaufeyson @cillmequick @whitedarkmoonflower @earlgreydream

#little-diable15k

[little-diable]

Hi! Congrats again on your milestone, hun. I'd like to write something for your 15k celebration.

Character: Dean Winchester

Genre: I think I'll go for a little mix of angst & fluff :)

Number: 79

Thank you, darling!!

Your sentence: "There is no law that gods must be fair" from The Song of Achilles. I can't wait to read this!

#little-diable15k

[little-diable]

Ähm ja, guten Tag. Hallo. Ja, ich glaube ich hatte einen Termin. Äh - also genaugenommen soll ich was abholen, so ein Rezept oder einen Brief.

Naja. Ich hab zumindest die Abholnummer 12 bitte. Danke. Aber, also, wenn die 12 schon weg ist, dann nehm ich auch die 15. Genau, ja. Das wärs. Dankeschön.

This is such a big league celebration, it has me feeling a little bit like ⬆️ but I can't wait to see which lot I've chosen. Once more, congratulations, congratulations and congratulations 🤍

Ja, mhm, also dafür müsste ich erst Ihre Krankenversicherungskarte sehen. Haben Sie die dabei?

Thank you my love ❤️

Your sentence: „Even as a child I felt it, and marvelled at the power of this woman who, though veiled, could electrify a room.” From The Song of Achilles

Join my 15k celebration

#little-diable15k

[little-diable]

Congrats my gorgeous friend 🩷

Ill do… Loki !! And 72!! 🖤

Thank you my love 🩶

Your sentence: “The enemy came as the poppies bloomed.” From The Last Kingdom

I can’t wait to read this 🫢

Join my 15k celebration

#little-diable15k

[little-diable]

First off, congratulations on 15K!! That's amazing!

I've never participated in a challenge, but I would like to give it a shot.

Since everyone seems to enjoy my smutty Finan x Reader fics, let's do that. Number 66.

Thank you darling!

I’m very excited for you to take part in this 🩶

Your sentence is:

“My stomach rolled, awash with nerves and relief at once.” From The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller!

Join my 15k celebration

#little-diable15k

[little-diable]

Hi! Congrats on 15k and I’m excited for this challenge!!!

Character: Loki

Genre: probably a mix of angst and fluff

Number: 101

Thank you!!

Your sentence “A happiness that often madness hits on, which reason and sanity could not so prosperously be delivered of.” From Hamlet

I can’t wait to read it!

#little-diable15k

[little-diable]

Chi, congrats again on 15K!! I choose Tommy Shelby, angst, # 75!

Thank you love!! <3

Your sentence: "A leader leads, and you can't ask men to risk death if you're not willing to risk it yourself." From The Last Kingdom by Bernard Cornwell

Join my 15k celebration

Join my 15k celebration

#little-diable15k

[little-diable]

Hi there Chi! I’m coming to get my sentence earlier so that I’ve got the most time to plan (yeah it’s due in december, but still 😅)

I’ll be writing for Tommy Shelby (of course) and can I choose number 144 ?

Can’t wait to see what I get!! ☺️

Oh I can’t wait for this fic 🫢

Your sentence: “To keep them alive, you heard those Nancy girls chanting out there, there’s something in the wood’s been taking our babies.” From The Southern Book Club’s Guide to Slaying Vampires by Grady Hendrix. 🩶

Join my 15k celebration

#little-diable15k

[little-diable]

Wow, 15K is mind blowing! Congratulations!

I feel small and insignificant in comparison to that, but I love writing although I just recently started.

I would love to participate, I certainly not hope to win. I just would like to participate and feel the spirit of this.

I choose Sihtric, angst and number 19. I will probably get some important good or bad news in 19 days, so it's a bit symbolic for me.

Please don’t compare yourself to any numbers, you’re very very much significant! <3

I’m keeping my fingers crossed for the news which will find you in 19 days, I hope they’re super super good news! You can always text me if you want to talk!

Your sentence: “We do it wrong, being so majestical, to offer it the show of violence, for it is as the air, invulnerable, and our vain blows malicious mockery.” From Hamlet by William Shakespeare 🩶

Join my 15k celebration

#little-diable15k

[little-diable]

Hey Chi! So I figure even I can manage to write one (1) story between now and 10 Dec 😂 So I’m coming for my sentence!

Obvs writing for Tommy Shelby and could I have number 55 if it hasn’t been taken yet please?

Congrats again on the 15k! 🙌🏼 xxx

Ahh I can't wait for his fic!!

Your sentence: "The dram of evil doth all the noble substance often dout to his own scandal." From Hamlet by William Shakespeare.

Thank you lovey <3

Join my 15k celebration

#little-diable15k