don’t leave me

titsay

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RMH
Three Goblin Art

★

Kiana Khansmith

oozey mess

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Jules of Nature

Janaina Medeiros
🪼
DEAR READER
NASA
Sweet Seals For You, Always
No title available

tannertan36
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ojovivo
dirt enthusiast
h

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@ssssduction
don’t leave me
My insides are red !
⌗ synopsis: you're fixated by her, observing every step she takes, every breath — haunting her like a ghost. she's mesmerized by you, keeping stolen pictures of you on her walls. what would happen if you found out about the mutual obsession?
↓ mood boards! | playlist! | upcoming fic!
mood boards !
⌗ ellie williams, 20, majoring in astrophysics.
໑ incredibly possessive — but it's okay because you're equally possessive with her
໑ fixated in you photography
໑ big fan of great acts of love
໑ her favorite color is red because the red lighting highlights your eyes.
໑ would kill for you. actually... she kinda– well, never mind.
⌗ you, 20, majoring in aeronautical engineering.
໑ your favorite hobby is to stand like a ghost and observe your surroundings.
໑ cold skin
໑ blood mean love
໑ loves the cold, but not as much as you love your fixation
໑ oversized hoodies
this fic contains lots and lots of dark content, such as murder and blood pact. but dont worry, I'll list all of them on it!
huge thank you to @ssssduction 💖
@almadellie thank you for the help with the banner 💓
if you want to be tagged, just leave a comment!
ઇ perma taglist ! @cherrybomb61 , @ssssduction , @kaykaifxck , @wqodwzrd , @lilicemito , @sani-sunny , @uniquewombatexpert , @seasonsofchaos , @ylxiru , @cutflwr , @grracyn , @bumasslesbian , @almadellie
so happy to help with this project 😚😚
Isn't it true that movies on the basis of books that are actually just inspired by them are just more or less canon fanfiction that somebody has the money to put on a big screen?
or is it just my fucked up thinking...
the gallery of serendipity
Benedict Bridgerton becomes a little too curious when he sees a lady such as yourself hidden away from the ball in the artistry gallery. / fluff / fem reader
Paintings were able to uplift all spirits, regardless of how dire their circumstances may be. However, the ton that toured the gallery was entirely careless with the pieces of art that sat before them. Luckily, the mistreatment of the artwork was a blessing in disguise, rewarding me with a plea to flee from all suitors.
An exquisite painting was merely disregarded to the side, raising bewilderment and slight fury at the fact that someone could be ever so careless. I politely excused myself from my current suitor, being able to put the oeuvre safely back in its place.
The enormous entrance closes behind me with a sound barely louder than a tiptoe, and for the first time that evening, I disburden my lungs from built-up breath. The noise of the ball, the music, laughter, the endless questions, "Do any gentlemen take your fancy?" "Do you wish to have a family?" But as soon as I stepped foot into the gallery of hopes and dreams, all expectations fell away at once.
The lanterns along the walls cast soft halos of light, leaving the corners of the rooms with a soft and gentle shadow. I paused in admiration, taking each and every one of the paint strokes in, using my imagination to interpret a story for each art piece. "These paintings have been dismissed by the ton too quickly. They are unremarkable." I spoke, my words imperceptible.
I walked deeper into the gallery, the footsteps that belonged to me, softened instinctively. I knew exactly where the piece belonged, seeing the empty space among the others.
Carefully, I placed the work onto the wall, as if it were a delicate vase just waiting to smash. Standing back to view the painting that sat peacefully on the wall, that's when I found out the presence of another. Which led me to abruptly turn around, my dress flying through the air like a scared pigeon, facing the silhouette.
"Forgive me," the voice was soft, which calmed your panic down a tad. "I did not mean to intrude."
He, I assumed, stood a few paces back from where I stood, “Uh.. No worries, my Lord.” He slowly made way into the light, finally casting shadows in certain places, but not his entire face. Making his feature more deceptive. “May I ask the lady of her name?” I stared at him, trying to find an answer, not sure whether his knowing of your name was a good or bad thing. “What could you possibly need it for?”
“So I’m able to address you properly,” his eyes scanned over my face, as if he were trying to break and churn me down, almost trying to figure out what I possess as a person. You turn to face the paintings, hoping that hiding away would make the Lord leave you to be. Except his presence seemed to be a lot louder than the faded laughter and music. “Miss L/N.. and you?”
“So, Miss L/N, shouldn’t you be at the ball?” dismissing my question, making his way to stand right beside me, except i cant bare the thought of trying to look him in the eye. “Yes, I should, but I’m clearly not. What is it to you, My Lord?”
“I’m curious, is all, most ladies would be in there having the time of their lives, so My Lady, why aren’t you with them enjoying your evening?”
“With all due respect, My Lord, not everyone is comparable, even a Lady. And I am simply admiring the amazing art before me, when some inconsiderate, thoughtless Automaton decided to throw this art piece on the floor. I naturally felt the need to take care of such a piece and put it back in its place.” I purse my lips, eyes still staring at the art, appreciating each delicate stroke. The artist, whoever painted such a beauty, was more than talented, worth millions.
“You’re right, My Lady, and not just that, you have excellent taste.” He pointed out that it made you feel happy, even though you weren’t an artist yourself; you were glad that someone had the same level of respect for art as you did. “Thank you, My Lord. It seems you do as well. Whoever painted this piece is quite talented.”
“And although I do enjoy your company.” I look him in the eye, smiling, trying my hardest to be polite. “We must not risk being seen with one another; you must go.” He laughed quietly, but enough for my ears to just pick up. “You’re right. It was a pleasure seeing you, My Lady.” He turned around to leave, “The pleasure was all mine.” I curtsy, still smiling out of respect.
And before the young man stepped out from the room, he left me with one more thing. “Oh, and thank you, I’m glad someone other than stuck-up mothers who use art as a way to show of riches, enjoys my artistry.” He smirked. I stood there stunned, trying to process what the man had just said. Although it may have come to you as a surprise, it was rather fascinating to be able to put a face and a name.. You didn’t get his name. But now there was more for you to think about, and that made it all the more fun.
To Feel is to Live
Plot: After the groups close call with Grail and his men in the theater, you take care of a wounded and restless Sherlock, though he insists he does not need it. The gentleness of your care, awakens feelings in Sherlock he has tried very hard to hide.
Pairing: Cavill!Sherlock Holmes x Gn!Reader
Requested By: @that-choir-girl
A/n's: This derailed a little bit from your request, but I hope you like it! :)
Warnings: Mentioned of wounds, light blood. Mentions of medicine/pain killers, etc. Main character death in the form of a nightmare multiple times.
Words: 3,934
the kneeling on the floor scene UUUUGHHH
Arcane Study - Caitlyn 2
𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫.𝐞𝐱𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠
— you slip on peter’s glasses while waiting for him to get back, not expecting anything more than a blurry view of his apartment. but when he walks in and sees you wearing them, well, his brain short circuits. you, of course, can’t resist making him suffer a little longer.
🌌 0.4k — tasm!peter parker x fem!reader, fluff, dangerously adorable levels of fluster, peter is absolutely not prepared for this, reader steals his glasses, borderline illegal amounts of cute
author's note — first peter fic omg ?? was kinda gonna make a longer fic on the more angsty side but then i was like nah that’s too much effort so drabble it is. and honestly i love it so much ughhh enjoy !! ‹𝟹 also pls tell me it it's terrible
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gif by @dailyflicks | divider by @/lavendergalactic
The apartment is quiet, save for the hum of the city outside and the soft ticking of the clock on the wall. Peter had left a little while ago, probably off to grab coffee or run an errand, leaving you curled up on his couch with one of his old textbooks in your lap.
Your gaze drifts toward the small table beside his desk, where his glasses sit, slightly askew, as if he had taken them off in a hurry. A small smile tugs at your lips. You’ve seen him push them up the bridge of his nose a thousand times, seen the way he squints when he forgets them, how they somehow make him look both like the smartest and the cutest person in the room.
Curiosity wins. You reach over and pick them up, slipping them onto your face.
Everything is… a little off. The lenses make the room blur at the edges, and you blink rapidly, adjusting. A quiet giggle escapes you. “Wow, how does he even see in these?” you murmur, tilting your head at your reflection in the window.
The door creaks open.
“Babe, I—” Peter stops mid-sentence.
You turn toward him, wide-eyed, and his breath catches in his throat.
He blinks once. Twice. His mouth opens, then closes again as if he’s buffering.
“Pete?” you say, confused by his sudden speechlessness.
“Oh my god,” he mutters under his breath, running a hand through his already-messy hair. “Why—why do you look so cute right now? What is happening?”
𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞
— your carefully hidden secret relationship unravels in the most humiliating way possible. but the undeniable fact through it all was that eddie munson is terrible at pretending he isn’t in love with you. by the time the whole group figures it out, eddie’s already lost his ring, his dignity, and any hope of acting normal around you. . . but at least he gets to stop pretending you aren’t his.
💍 2.1k — eddie munson x fem!reader, fluff, secret relationship gone wrong ( right ), eddie munson yearns so hard it’s embarrassing, mutual pining even while dating, accidental coming out x4
request — [ by anonymous ] hii! i saw your cry for requests and im here to save the day 🦸♀️ can i req eddie and reader who are secretly dating and she's steve & robins friend so she's around the party a lot and they find out thru little things ( wearing one of his rings, talking like him, love curls theory 🫣 ) if you end up doing this, thank you sm!
author's note — okay hi first of all thank you so much to the lovely who requested this. and also thank you to everyone who’s sent in requests lately because wow. . . there are a lot and i see you and i appreciate you more than i can explain. anyways, requests are open. enjoy <3
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gif by @keery-joe | divider by @/lavendergalactic
Eddie Munson was exceptionally bad at secrets. Horrifically, painfully bad at them.
This was an objective truth, right up there with gravity and the fact that Wayne always knew when he was lying. Which made it deeply unfair that he was now in a secret relationship with you — someone who could kiss him breathless in a supply closet and then walk back out five minutes later like nothing had happened. Like your mouth hadn’t just been on his. Like his hands hadn’t still been shaking when you’d adjusted your shirt and told him to “act normal.”
Normal? Eddie Munson had never once acted normal in his entire life, and you expected him to start now?
…
FOUL
HOLY SHIT
i lost the document for my next fanfic 😭 it was going to be sooo good i'm so fucking mad i'm about to cry
eyes wide shut - jonathan byers
summary: Nancy is deeply offended when she finds out her own sister is dating Jonathan Byers and hasn't told her, but after a little investigation, she finds out nothing was ever hidden from her. In fact, you and Jonathan were so open about your relationship that maybe she was just blind the whole time. wc: 1.4k+ cw: nancy and jonathan never dated thanks, i villainise nancy once more i'm sorry
Nancy never considered herself to be particularly close with any of her siblings, but she never thought she had a bad relationship with them. Now, she can’t help but rethink what she knows. She always thought that you'd come tell her about your relationships like she's somewhat done in the past. But as she stands across the street from her own house, she watches through your lit up window as Jonathan Byers pulls his shirt back onto his naked torso, your hands resting on his chest. Jonathan doesn’t try swatting your hands away, even when his shirt can’t slide all the way down his body — instead, his hands come up to cup your face, and he leans forward to kiss you.
Your sister gulps thickly as she shamelessly stares, feeling an ugly emotion build up inside her. Why wouldn’t you tell her about having a boyfriend? It’s not like she’s never met this man before - that you’re keeping him secret from everyone in your circle. This is Jonathan. There was a point in time where she saw this man everyday. Sure, they’re not exactly friends, but Nancy would have expected you to tell her that you’re seeing him. That he’s in your bedroom every night between your sheets with his shirt off, your hands on his bare skin. You don’t even have to tell her all these details, but at least a little ‘Jonathan and I are seeing each other.’
Jonathan now fishes your hands out from under his shirt, tugging you closer to him so he can kiss you deeper, but it doesn’t last long before you’re pulling away from him. Nancy sees your lips move, face only inches away from Jonathan, and your boyfriend steps away from you, leaning down to grab his backpack and slinging it over one shoulder. He struggles to get his bag over his second arm, especially when you cling onto his side, draping yourself over his body. Jonathan hums, hands securing themselves on the dip of your waist when he’s finally comfortably settled, accepting the kisses you press all over his face. One of his hands leaves your waist to cradle the back of your head, guiding your lips back to his.
Nancy feels utterly betrayed. She feels stupid like this, just standing on her side of the road spying on her sister. She rushes across the street when Jonathan separates from you. She doesn’t want to bump into him while he makes his way out of your window. She scrambles through her purse for a moment, looking for her keys before giving up and trying the door handle to see if she even needs them.
Luckily, the door is open. Nancy sighs as she pushes it open, wiping her feet on the doormat before entering the house. She doesn’t think she can speak to anyone, so she heads straight towards the stairs, but she violently stops in her tracks when Jonathan comes skipping down them. He offers her a “Hey, Nancy” as he passes her, but all she can do is stay frozen as he passes her. She catches sight of some glitter on his cheeks as he zooms by, and she instantly knows which lip gloss of yours it’s from.
Maybe she’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. Maybe in a week you’ll come to her and let her know that there’s something going on between you and the Byers boy - that everything is very new and you hope things go well with him.
But that week goes by and you act the same as normal. You offer to drive Mike to Will’s when it’s late at night, and Nancy knows what you will be up to. She wonders if Mike and Will know. She wonders if the whole lot knows — Hopper who is often with the Byers, Steve and Robin who are often strung in weird experiments with you, Dustin who is somehow always with you and your friends. Everyone but her. So Nancy brings it upon herself to ask around about it, and who better to ask than your very best friend?
Robin shifts awkwardly on your doorstep, clearing her throat at the sight of a very still Nancy in the doorway. “Can I come in?” Robin asks, eyes glancing towards the stairs, which she needs to get to in order to retreat to your bedroom. In the meantime though, Nancy holds her hostage.
“Can I ask you something?”
Robin’s eyes widen in that very obvious sign of panic of hers, and she squeaks out a high-pitched “Sure!” Nancy steps out of the doorway, letting Robin step into the house. Robin momentarily deliberates running up the stairs past Nancy, but instead, she follows your sister to the kitchen, awkwardly standing in the sport nearest to the door in case she needs an escape.
“Why is my sister hiding her relationship from me?” Nancy asks in a confrontational tone, expecting Robin’s nerves to make her spill out the truth. But instead, Robin’s eyebrows furrow in a state of confusion, posture straightening in her own sense of surprise. “Hiding?” Robin echoes, watching as Nancy’s eyebrows raise and she nods her head meanly, scoffing out “Yeah, hiding.”
“Nancy, she’s not hiding anything - everyone knows about her and Jonathan.”
“How does everyone know but me!?” Nancy questions, feeling deeply offended at the smirk that makes its way onto Robin’s face. “Maybe you’re the only one not paying attention. They haven’t explicitly told anyone, Nancy. They didn’t need to.”
Nancy almost flinches back at the honesty in Robin’s voice. What on earth is she on about? She doesn’t realise that for the past three months you and Jonathan have been the most disgustingly adorable couple to be around. On the Byers’s couch during long nights, Jonathan’s arm around you whilst you nuzzle your face into his neck. Or when the entire crew is huddled together after making potentially life saving discoveries, and Jonathan drags you out of the room by the hand, stealing you away from everyone else.
Max and El have accidentally interrupted your kissing in the front seat of Jonathan’s car when retrieving Will's backpack. Dustin has walked in on your kissing in your own kitchen when you thought no one was home and he wanted a snack. Will has seen way more than he wanted to in the middle of the night when fetching water from the kitchen and interrupting a ‘movie night’ of yours. Steve and Robin took the brunt of it though, forced to constantly be exposed to whatever PDA you had to offer whenever you and Jonathan seemed to be in the same room.
But you’re not always this disgusting.
Everyone found out long before your relationship even happened from slight changes in behaviour around each other. Shy glances towards each other, volunteering to do things together, or even the quality of your voices when speaking to each other in comparison to everyone else. Then came the subtle hand-holding, the comforting hand on each other’s arms, the growing comfort in each other’s company. Obviously, this developed into the displays of affection your friends and family hate seeing, but in your defence most of the time you’re somewhere private! Semi-private. Whatever.
And still, Nancy hasn’t noticed anything.
Even when Jonathan has parked his car down the street, waiting for you. Even when Mike has caught you halfway out the door, insisting you to take him with you to Will’s otherwise he’ll tell your parents. Even when you both have a hushed argument downstairs, you telling him that you were leaving because there’s already too many people in this house and him replying that he’ll know what you’re doing either way so it won’t change anything. Nancy doesn’t know how she didn’t notice when you’ve apparently been been dragging your feet down the street with Mike happily trailing behind you. All she could’ve done to find you out was look outside her window. But she never did. She never saw how you’d get in Jonathan’s car, giving him guilty eyes as Mike climbed into the backseat.
Jonathan would always give you an extra long kiss just to spite your younger brother, grinning when Mike would make a disgusted noise and heat would rush to your cheeks.
“I’m her sister though. She should tell me.” Nancy finally says, voice unstable.
“Nancy, when have you ever told her anything about your life?” Robin genuinely asks, shrugging her shoulders in question. Nancy freezes, and Robin takes the chance to slowly step out of the room, running up the stairs when she’s far enough to do so.
Oh dear, she cannot wait to tell you about the conversation she’s just had. You’re about to be so mad at Nancy.
Please can I request a gif imagine for Enola Holmes? Imagine: Enola and John Watson playing matchmaker for you and Sherlock, when you’re both too stubborn to admit your romantic feelings for each other? Thank you!
THE CURIOUS CASE OF A LIBRARIAN AND A DETECTIVE
Enola sat at his brother’s dimly lit office, staring at him browsing through his latest cases — seeing what to throw out and what to keep. What won’t be needed, what’s going to solve the case, the usual.
But something in it was different, she knew he didn’t normally do it that thoroughly. She knew that he was waiting for you to close up the library so he could walk you home, even when he so desperately was trying to pretend it was always just a coincidence, him closing his own office and stepping outside just in time to meet you. And she knew you did exactly the same, accidentally slowing down by his office so he’d have time to step out.
Sherlock often caught up what Enola was planning or thinking, or figuring out, but she guessed his heart eyes directed at you had
What They Didn't Know Was Missing
Summary: It's hard to come into terms of becoming a mother, but Sherlock reassures you that he'll remind you every day that you are worthy of being one to your child.
Warning: pregnancy symptoms, labor, mentions of abandonment, mentions of gun violence
Telegrams & Teacups
Pairing: Sherlock x Reader (Enola Holmes)
Warnings: None.
Summary: Your morning was normal until you received a telegram from your friend Sherlock Holmes with a simple request: help him find Enola.
A/n: This tiny idea had me so obsessed that it’s all I’ve been writing for the last few hours! I have no regrets <3
You had just poured yourself a cup of tea and set it down on the small table by the armchair when there was a knock at the door.
How peculiar. You thought to yourself.
Crossing the room, you turned the handle and propped open the panel of wood to see who your guest was and was met with a man from the post office holding in his hands a beige envelope.
“Telegram for (Y/n).” He explained. You confirmed your identity and were handed the papered item bidding the gentlemen a good day.
With a swift closing of the door, you leaned against it and opened the letter, recognising initials of S.H on the bottom right corner. Sherlock had told you that he was leaving to attend to a personal matter in the country yesterday morning so if he sent a priority telegram to you, then there must have been a development in the case.
Unfolding the paper, you read the message and learnt that he requested your assistance in locating his sister Enola Holmes who he suspected to be in London and that he would be back in the city later that afternoon. At the bottom of the letter there were the words ‘URGENT’ and a short series of words describing the girl scrawled rather messily, no doubt belonging to his brother Mycroft who was constantly teetering on the edge of patience.
You glanced over at the teacup still sending swirls of steam into the air and sighed - your drink would have to wait. Grabbing your coat from its stand, you hastily put it on and dashed out the door.
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