It's Hard To Explain The Guilt That Being An Imperfect Daughter Gives You. You Don't Necessarily Want

It's hard to explain the guilt that being an imperfect daughter gives you. You don't necessarily want to change yourself, you know who you are or know maybe what you are and it's closer to this then what your mother wants of you, but you wish you could be different, you wish you were a version of yourself that would be kinder and more comforting for your mother, who she could talk sweetly about with her friends rather then forcing her to be the mother with That Daughter.

But it's what you are. And she still loves you, you know that, for all you are. But maybe you both wish you could be less you and more a daughter.

i want there to be a kaz vs the darkling fight at least once every season where kaz always wins

and i want them to never actually contribute to the plot. it just happens. kaz puts his cane on top of the darklings cape and he trips. thats the whole fight.

From Friends To This

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Synopsis: Tom gives you an intimate compliment that makes you question just how platonic your friendship is

Masterlist

Unable to sleep and growing bored with the episode of Grey’s Anatomy he was watching, Tom reached up and knocked the secret rhythm to on his wall. He tilted his chin up towards the wall, waiting for your response. Finally, you finished the knock, letting Tom know you were still awake. Ever since you moved in, you and Tom communicated at through knocking on the wall since your rooms were next to each other. It was reserved for late night messages, usually when one of you wanted a snack but didn’t want to go to the kitchen alone. Tonight, it was a matter of curiously.

“did I wake you?” Tom pulled out his phone to text you, not wanting to keep you up if you had been asleep.

Keep reading

(tadashi hamada x reader)

Summary: knees brushing under the table

masterlist

————

Lectures were the worst part of college. You were absolutely certain of that.

No way anyone would want their professor, who sounds like Bette Midler, to drawl on and on for an hour about some chemical equation that could be explained in three steps.

Your palm held your chin as drool almost slipped past your lips while you lightly dozed off. Even though the lecture was god awfully boring, you were grateful it was a big class so you could get away with checking out mentally.

For the most part anyway. (We don’t talk about the time she called on you while being in the middle of chowing down a bad if chips that you were most definitely not supposed to be eating.)

There was another component that added to your boredom however. Somebody was late.

Mr. Tadashi Hamada decided to stay up doing god knows what and sleep through his alarm today. The frantic text he sent you was proof of the incident as he rushed to explain his circumstance.

I lost track of time- blah blah I didn’t realize- yada yada ada.

Excuses for days he had. Though even if he was to miss half the class you did promise to catch him up on what he missed.

What were friends for?

…ha friends.

The door creaked, drawing most of the students attention to the entryway, where the man himself winced at the noise. A hushed ‘sorry’ passed his lips before he hurriedly went down the stairs. The teacher made a snide indirect comment as he plopped into his seat next to you.

With a lurch you were coherent once again.

“Morning sunshine,” Tadashi teased, leaning in close to you as he sat his bag down on to the floor. Humming gently you rubbed your eyes. Looking over you looked down to the teeth shining past his lips.

You never understood how they could be so white.

A hand went up to pull the baseball cap off his head as Tadashi used his other hand to tousle his hair. Puffing out his cheeks a much needed breath released from his lungs and he slouched back into his seat. The movable desk top was pushed down in front of him while his legs spreaded to a comfortable position.

Biting your lip you almost jumped at the contact his knee made to yours. The steady weight of it leaned against you but you made no move to remove it. If Tadashi didn’t want it there then he would remove it himself.

Tapping his nails on the wood the boy leaned over you, craning his neck to look at the notes you had written down. Wordlessly you picked up the book and handed it to him.

“Thanks,” he breathed out, reaching with his hand to take it, his fingers brushing against yours in the process. Another zing coursed through you. But you didn’t speak anything about it as Tadashi scanned over the words and your scribbles. A smile of slight amusement coming over his features as he looked at your doodles. However he frowned at a certain sentences.

Shifting closer his shoulder pressed against yours, holding open your notebook and pointing to the questionable phrase.

His words were slightly muffled as the feeling of warmth from his arm and knee burned through your body.

“Sorry what was that-,” you went to apologize but were cut off.

“Shhhhhh,” a rather irritated individual hushed whipping her head to look back at you. Another apology was voiced as you smiled uneasily.

“What did you mean when…” a quiet gasp left your lips when Tadashi’s breath was felt across your skin.

This was new. Tadashi has never been this touchy. He’s always been one to give simple high fives or fist bumps of gratitude. Or maybe a little side hug in the right occasion. But he’s never been practically cheek to cheek with you before.

But he’s just asking for some notes. Just asking some questions. Just asking for some help from a friend.

Shadows of the Past

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x Fem!Reader

Summary: After witnessing you lose your temper in front of your regiment, Aleksander decides to check in on you.

Warnings: canon level violence.

My Masterlist

The Corporal falls hard, face first into the mud, and the easygoing atmosphere shifts as voices are lowered to curious murmurs.

“Anyone else who insults a Grisha gets a personal arsekicking.” You snarl, anger thrumming through your entire, your voice raised to address your entire regiment. “Now get back to your posts.”

You don’t wait for a response as you stride over to your tent, disappearing from sight.

Aleksander tilts his head slightly, as he runs your actions over in his head. As a Lieutenant of the First Army, Aleksander had never expected you to become such a valued member of his War Council. But the two of you together were a force to be reckoned with, every soldier and noble could see it.

Aleksander has always admired your attention to detail, your focus on every minor action and the influence it has over the people around you. There’s nothing you do without thinking it through first.

Which is why he is currently so bemused.

If you wanted your soldiers to respect your authority, you would have simply cut the Corporal down with your words. Aleksander often enjoys seeing you put the people who doubt your abilities in their place. But this is different.

Your face had been twisted into a near heartbroken fury.

He knows that the last skiff to return from the Fold had shaken you up. The Grisha casualties were much greater than those from the First Army during this trip. He had seen you comforting a young Squaller, Mila, which had stirred up an undetermined emotion in Aleksander’s heart.

He waits until the First Army soldiers have dispersed themselves, following your order to return to their work. Then he approaches your tent. Aleksander pushes the flap of the tent open, stepping inside.

The first thing he notices is the contents of your desk, scattered over the floor. Papers and maps crumbled over the rugs, along with pencils and other utensils. One of your chairs has been overturned, and you’re leaning your hands against the desk as you breathe heavily.

You raise your head to look at him. You can always sense when he’s close, even when shrouded in his shadows. You straighten slightly, ignoring the singular tear drying on your cheek.

“General Kirigan, may I help you?”

“Quite the contrary, Lieutenant.” He says, stepping towards you. “I wanted to ensure that you are alright.” Your strong expression falters slightly at the caring response from him.

“I’m fine.” You insist, looking down at the desk, now devoid of contents after you had swept them to the floor in frustration. He nods,

“Regardless, I’m here.” He sits down on a chair not far from your desk, keeping his eyes on you. You hold his gaze for a long moment, indecision in your eyes as you contemplate your next words.

“My sister was Grisha.” You admit in a small voice. “A Squaller.” A faint smile creeps over your lips at the memory of her, and Aleksander watches your expression carefully behind his dark eyes. “My family had a goat farm, in the North up near the mountains. The closest village was several miles away.”

Your fingers trace over the grooves in the wood of your desk, your gaze unfocused as you relive your childhood in only a moment. Aleksander’s eyes flicker down to follow the motion of your hand, before his gaze returns to your face, hating the sorrow haunting your expression.

“The Grisha testers came to that village once a year. My sister showed her abilities young, we all knew she was Grisha. My parents were so happy.” Aleksander’s brow creases lightly. Parents usually weren’t happy that their children were Grisha, it was why the Crown had to offer families so much money to keep their children at the Little Palace. “My mother always said there was little for us in our quiet town. Being Grisha meant that Lena would leave. She would have had good schooling, friends, three meals a day that didn’t consist of goat’s cheese and bread.”

You laugh softly, though there’s a bitter edge to it, and your expression hardens as you continue.

“She was around six when my parents considered taking her to the village to meet with the Grisha testers. I knew what that meant. I knew she would leave.” You swallow hard, tears blurring your vision until the details of the desk have merged into one dark mass of brown. “I begged my parents to wait until the next visit. I just wanted one more year with her.”

The tears fall heavily down your cheeks now, and desperation claws at Aleksander’s heart. He wants to take you into his arms, hold you against his chest, and ensure that you never have a reason to cry ever again.

“Not even a month later, a Drüskelle party passed through the woods by our house.”

Aleksander’s stomach plummets. He’s all too familiar with end of this story. Yet it always fills him with the same sense of grief. The grief that makes him want to make them all suffer, as his people have done for centuries.

“I’m the one that found her.” There’s a pause as you choke on a sob. “What was left of her.” Your entire body is trembling as Aleksander stands. Through your tears, you don’t see him approaching as you whisper in a broken voice, “It was my fault.”

“Look at me.” Aleksander demands in a soft voice, much closer than you expected him to be. Your tear filled eyes find his dark ones with ease. “It was not your fault. You wanted more time with your sister, there’s no shame or guilt in that.” He insists, fingers curling around your biceps to hold you steady. He sighs with a heavy heart as he adds, “I wish more than anything you could have had it.”

“If I hadn’t said anything, she would have grown up in the Little Palace.” He nods.

“Yes, and joined the Second Army, where she could have died in battle.”

“At least she would have had a childhood.” An angry sob shakes your body. “And that is all Ravka can offer a Grisha. A childhood of comfort, only to be thrown into a war by a King that doesn’t care.”

Aleksander is startled by your words - so similar to his own sentiments that for a moment he believes this could be a trap, to have him reveal his plans of treason and regicide. But then he sees the fierce pain and fury in your eyes. Aleksander has lived long enough to know that emotions like that can not be faked.

“That’s why I lost my temper with Petrov.” You explain, referring to the Corporal you had sent sprawling into the mud. “After what happened on the last skiff journey, he said ‘the less Grisha the better’.” Aleksander stiffens slightly. “I know I shouldn’t have but-“

“You have far more restraint than I have.” Aleksander remarks, his voice tense. Your expression softens, offering him a weak smile. His fingers are still curled around your biceps, and he nudges the back of your arms gently, encouraging you to step into his arms.

His kefta is unbuttoned, allowing you to press yourself close to his body. You curl your arms around his waist, your cheek against the warm fabric of his tunic. His arms wrap around your body, one around your shoulders, the other around your waist as he holds you tight. Aleksander feels your body shaking as you cry, fresh tears pooling down your cheeks. There’s an ache in his heart at the sight of you so vulnerable.

“I know it hurts milaya.” He says softly, smoothing his hand up and down your back before he settles it at the base of your neck. “But I’m here, I’ve got you.”

His words soothe some of the aching in your heart, and you cling even tighter to him. He presses a delicate kiss to the crown of your head, and your heart begins to ache for an entirely different reason. You want to belong here - in his arms. You tilt your head so that you can admire his face, only to find him already looking down at you. A small frown creases at his brows,

“What is it?” You shake your head slightly, your cheeks warming as you admit quietly,

“Just wanted to look at you.” His eyes soften as he breathes out your name, cupping your cheek with care. Your eyes flutter closed at his touch, and you murmur, “Always makes everything better.”

He can’t help himself.

He presses his lips against yours, tentative at first, allowing you to pull away if need be. Then he feels your hand in his hair, nails scraping lightly over his scalp as you grasp at his dark locks, and he deepens the kiss. There’s a delightful sound of pleasure humming at the back of your throat, and your other hand slides over his chest.

You continue to cling to one another, even as your lips break apart, your breathing laboured as you press your foreheads together.

A smile curls at his lips, as his eyes admire your own smile, now knowing how soft your lips feel against his own. He presses a tender kiss to your lips, brushing his nose against yours as he does which causes your smile to widen.

Aleksander feels a weight lifted from his chest at the sight of your smile, and with each kiss to your lips, he vows to keep you safe from harm.

in case you’re still doing the smut prompts, i’d be very stoked to read something with nr. 8!! hope you’re having a wonderful day.☺️🌟

into it.

a/n: as you all know by now, i rely heavily on music for inspiration so here's my muse for this request. consider this my present to all of you. happy holidays besties. warning: smut under the cut.

The walls of the Summer Palace shook as you slammed the door with so much force that the entire thing threatened to come off the steel hinges. You were fuming, chest heaving and eyes blazing as you whirled around to face the source of your anger.

“How dare you interfere with my mission?” you huff with indignation, staring up at the cold, stoic expression of the shadowsinger.

Azriel was entirely unmoved by the outburst and it only served to infuriate you further. You’d both been assigned by Rhysand to repair the tenuous alliance between the Night Court and the Summer Court and you were doing a damned good job of charming Tarquin back to your side before Azriel rudely interrupted your lunch with the High Lord.

“It’s our mission. Not yours.” Azriel says coolly, his golden gaze sweeping over you with indifference.

“Funny because it seems like I’m the only one doing the work,” you bite back.

A flash of anger marred Azriel’s otherwise neutral expression, but it was gone as quickly as it came. He straightened to his full height causing the Illyrian warrior to tower a good foot over you as his large, dark wings flared across his back.

“I’d hardly call throwing yourself at Tarquin work.”

You scoffed at the utter hypocrisy of his accusation. “Oh please, like you weren’t out there shamelessly flirting with Cresseida. Are you so unaware of the irony of such a statement or are you truly so blinded by your arrogant misogyny that you fail to see that we are doing the exact same thing?”

Azriel seethed, stalking towards you in three smooth strides. The shadowsinger stepped directly into a beam of sunlight streaming through the open window, his tall, muscled form completely overshadowing your own. You supposed you should've felt intimidated, but as you looked up at his cruel, handsome face, all you felt was pure adrenaline.

In a way that you knew infuriated him, your gaze flickered down to the soles of Azriel’s boots, dragging your eyes to the breezy riding pants that hugged his powerful thighs and toned ass, all the way up to the white, billowing shirt that was left unbuttoned, revealing the sprawling tattoos inked upon his golden brown skin. The fabric did nothing to hide the toned physique hiding underneath and the sculpted planes of his abs peeked through the thin material. He held your stare as you slowly made the ascent to his irritatingly handsome face, never balking as you took in the razor sharp jawline, the full, sensual lips, the strong brows and the fluttering eyelashes that kissed the tops of his perfectly sculpted cheekbones.

Azriel released a frustrated sigh, his breath disturbing the inky dark locks falling over the brightest shade of hazel eyes you’ve ever seen.

“It’s not the same.” He gritted out, taking a step closer towards you. “I didn’t smile at Cresseida.”

You paused, blinking up at the shadowsinger. He clenched his jaw and glowered down at you. The most expressive you’ve ever seen him in all your years of knowing one another.

“Are you honestly that much of an asshole that any display of happiness I exhibit would infuriate you this much?”

Azriel’s laugh was mirthless and devoid of humor. “Are you honestly that clueless as to why that would bother me?”

The words barely registered as your temper got the best of you. Lifting a defiant chin up at the shadowsinger, you dared to poke his chest.

“I’m not fucking clueless.”

Azriel wrapped his fingers around your wrist. Something dangerous and lethal flashed through his eyes. “Yell at me again and I’ll give you a reason to scream.”

There wasn’t a single coherent thought in your mind as your gaze flickered to the grim line of his mouth. Azriel snarled as you inhaled a sharp breath.

Perhaps you’d truly lost your sanity because against all sense and logic, you found yourself baiting the shadowsinger.

“What are you going to do, Azriel? Punish me?”

Azriel backed you up against the wall, his hands coming down on either side of your head as he caged you in. Your heart was beating so loudly that you could practically hear its erratic rhythm echoing in your ears.

“Is that what you want? For me to fuck the brat right out of you?”

Cauldron fucking fry you. The tension was palpable between you and Azriel, permeating in the air and practically suffocating you with the heady sense of lust and desire.

You’ve never been more aroused in your life.

Azriel could sense it in the flush spreading through your chest, the color tinging your cheeks with a rosy flush. You looked so fucking irresistible, but he wasn’t done toying with you. He knew you wanted this, wanted him, but he needed to hear it come out of your pretty little mouth.

His fingers curved around your jaw, tilting your chin up to meet his burning gaze. “It is, isn’t it? Does the thought of me keep you up at night?”

Your eyes fluttered close as his other hand fisted the hem of your dress. His rough, calloused fingers skittered over your leg as he pressed his erection against your midsection. You hissed in response as he hoisted you up, pressing your back against the cold cement.

“I bet you’ve thought about this exact moment with your hands between your legs. Tell me sweetheart, do you touch yourself and wish it were my fingers getting you off instead?”

Despite how accurate he was, you weren’t about to give Azriel the satisfaction. “Don’t flatter yourself, shadowsinger. If the thought of you ever crosses my mind, it’s because you infuriate me like no other. Never in my immortal life have I ever met such a stubborn, hard headed male."

“But you want me just as badly as I want you.”

You huff in indignation, but there was no denying your arousal. It was so potent you were sure Azriel could scent it.

With your pride on the line, you pivoted back to the anger you’d felt only moments ago. “Where do you get off making these assumptions? The absolute fucking audacity—“

Azriel chuckles darkly. “Oh?” His lips skate over the hollow of your throat as you swallow thickly. “So if I were to touch you right now, I wouldn’t find your panties absolutely soaked?”

“No,” you breathed. “Because I’m not wearing any.”

“Fuck,” was all Azriel managed to say before his lips collided with yours.

There was nothing sweet about the kiss. It was rough and punishing, full of need and desperation as his lips melded against yours. Azriel hoisted you up, wrapping your legs around his trim waist as he deepened the kiss. Your fingers twine in his hair, tilting his head up towards you while he nipped at your bottom lip. His tongue begged for entrance and you gladly obliged him, moaning into his mouth as he explored every inch of you. Azriel absolutely fucking lost it.

The shadowsinger your backside and hoisted you up, his kisses skirting over your neck, down to your throat, and into the little crevice of your collarbone. His name fell from your lips like a prayer.

Azriel was a full and complete sentence.

“Keep moaning my name like that and I won’t be able to resist the temptation to fuck you right against this wall.”

You nipped at his earlobe, eliciting a string of curses out of the shadowsinger. “So do it.”

Perhaps it was foolish to challenge Azriel, but you couldn’t fucking help it. You wanted him so badly that every second that he wasn’t inside of you felt excruciating.

“I want to hear you say it.”

Azriel’s silky voice caressed your ears and sent a wave of pleasure through your body.

“You were right. I do think about you. All the fucking time. I get off on the thought of you touching me, but it’s nothing compared to the real thing.” Azriel growls into your neck, sucking harshly at the base of your throat and marking his claim on your skin. “I want you, Azriel. So fucking badly that it hurts.”

“Then take me, sweetheart.”

With those four words, your pride completely disintegrated. You tugged at the front of his trousers, pulling them down hastily while Azriel groaned into your mouth. His cock sprang free from the constraints of the fabric and you licked your lips at the sheer size of him. He was long and thick, so much so that your brain couldn’t quite calculate how you’d take all of him.

But you’d damn well try.

A growl ripped through the shadowsinger’s chest as you gripped his shaft, flicking your thumb over his tip and spreading the bead of precum over his sensitive head. Azriel rested his head on the crook of your shoulder, his hot pants sweeping through your skin.

“Save the teasing for later, baby. I need to be inside of you. Now.”

You whimper in anticipation, watching as the shadowsinger hoisted you over his cock. You braced your hands on his shoulders as he eased the tip in, gasping as you felt his length stretch your walls. Azriel cupped your cheek, brushing the tears from the corner of your eye as he allowed you to acclimate yourself to the pain and pleasure.

“Look at me, sweetheart,” he whispers softly. The tone of his voice soothes the sting as his golden gaze locks onto your face. Azriel presses his forehead against yours, kissing you so gently as though he were afraid of hurting you. “That’s it, baby. You’re doing so good, taking me so well. Such a good fucking girl for me.”

Holy gods. You were so overcome with pleasure that you couldn’t even feel the pain anymore. You took every inch of Azriel’s cock, your pussy hugging around him so tightly that it was a wonder how he didn’t come right then and there.

“Gods, you’re so fucking tight. Feels like fucking heaven, baby.”

You groaned in response, greedily latching your lips onto his collarbone. “Az, please. Wanna feel you.”

“Use your words, angel. What is it that you want?”

There wasn’t a single ounce of shame left within you as you faced the shadowsinger and traced his bottom lip with your thumb. “I want you to fuck me, Azriel. Rough. Hard. Show me how badly you want me.”

“You fucking kill me when you say things like that.”

Azriel doesn’t give you a chance to respond before his mouth is on yours again. He grips the tops of your thighs, pulling his cock out of your pussy before slamming it in all the way. You cried out in ecstasy, clawing at his back to keep you steady, careful not to disturb the beautiful wings at his back.

The shadowsinger thrusts at a steady, relentless pace, drawing out your pleasure, making you writhe and cry and moan all at once. You couldn’t tell where you ended and where Azriel began. The two of you were fused together and the entire thing felt like an out of body experience. At one point you could’ve sworn you were watching yourself getting absolutely railed against the wall while clinging onto Azriel for dear life.

You were entirely shameless as you licked, nipped, and sucked at the expanse of golden brown skin that your lips had access to. Azriel fucked into you and you rolled your hips in tandem as that wicked tongue of his slipped past the seam of your lips and flicked against yours. You sucked hard, fighting for dominance as the shadowsinger moaned into your mouth.

When your fingers grazed the sensitive membrane of his wings, Azriel bucked against you and released a string of curses that would’ve made a sailor blush.

“Fucking hell,” Azriel choked. “I can’t—gods, you feel too fucking good.”

“Don’t stop, Az.” You plead, rolling your hips to take more of him. “I’m so close.” Azriel responds by rutting into you, hitting that sweet spot that had you seeing stars. “Gods, right there. So perfect. You’re so fucking perfect.”

Azriel could feel you clenching around him. It felt divine, the ironclad grip you had on his cock, hugging snugly around him until he was practically melting into your hands was nothing like he’s ever felt before. He squeezed your ass, angling his hips just right so that his tip touched that sweet spot within your walls over and over again.

“Be a good girl and cum for me, sweetheart.”

When his thumb flicked over your clit, you completely lost it. The orgasm was mind-shattering, rocking through your entire body like an earthquake as you buried your head in Azriel’s shoulder. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room as he thrust hard and fast, moaning your name repeatedly as you felt a wave of euphoria wash over you.

“Holy gods,” Azriel breathed. “Fuck me—”

Those dark, powerful wings of his flared behind him as he came, hard and fast, barreling through him like the rushing wind when he took flight. He crumpled to the floor, taking you with him as you both collapsed from the effort. Azriel’s chest rose and fell as you held him against you, the both of you feeling absolutely fucked out and blissful. You toyed with his soft, raven hair, cradling him in your arms as his eyes fluttered open. His cheeks were flushed and his lips were swollen and you decided that it was the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen.

Azriel blinked up at you, his hazel eyes shimmering like honey in the light. He appraised you in silence, gently tucking a stray dark lock behind your ear. The intensity of your gaze awakened butterflies in your stomach.

“What?” you asked softly, much to the shadowsinger’s pleasure.

“Nothing,” he says with a slight grin. “You’re just so beautiful.”

You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of your lips. Azriel felt like someone had taken a fist to his stomach. You were so fucking breathtaking that it was almost unfair.

He traced your lips, his mind committing the sight of your genuine smile into his memory. “Gods, do that again.”

You grinned. An actual, genuine grin. “I’m just smiling.”

“I know,” Azriel says. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Despite the fact that he’d given you the best orgasm of your life just moments ago, the compliment makes you blush. “And to think, all you had to do to see it was to piss me off beyond belief.”

The shadowsinger beamed. He took your hand in his, brushing his lips over the tops of your knuckles. “It was worth it.”

“Because I finally admitted that I’ve wanted you all along?”

“Because you smiled for me.”