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Spain x Reader - Finale - P2Spaiƞ x Reader-Fiƞaɭe-P2
Darkness presses on your eyes as you come to your senses. For a few moments, you lie there, fighting back thoughts and keeping your eyes closed. The most peculiar feeling is coming over you, quickening your heartbeat. It feels as if you are floating but something, or maybe someone is holding you down, keeping you from flying away. Oh, right. Someone is.
Lazily, almost reluctantly, you open your eyes halfway to a crowded white room. The room is filled with huge computers, with people typing things into the machines furiously. People of all kinds rush past each other, some of them smiling at each other or frowning at others. Everybody is dressed in unremarkable white shirts and pants. You find you are dressed the same way as you look down at yourself.
This scene might have been a fairly normal one, had there been any sound at all.
You raise your head slightly, and your eyes snap open completely in surprise. Sound rushes back to you, and it’s
Spain x Reader - Finale (CONTEST ENTRY)
Spaiƞ x Reader-Fiƞaɭe
Antonio smells the acrid scent of gunpowder in the air. He hears the gunshots, the shouting of men and the screams of women. He feels the cannon, a deep vibration that goes through his entire body as he stares at the ironically cloudless sky. The small velvet box in the pocket of his jacket presses into his side sharply. The Spaniard is also aware of the beating of his heart, the sound thrumming in his ears. It is not as steady as it was a few minutes ago. Now it’s fainter, less sure. Antonio smiles a little as he sees you run towards him, despite the men yelling at you to get away from the battle. And then, the memories flash.
It had started off small. The two of you were acquaintances, nothing more. Sometimes it was a borrowed pencil, with an accidental touch here and there. The two of you had theatre together, and you started to talk more. Both you and Tony were friends with Francis, and though you had not met Gilbert before, you got al
All I Need - England x Reader - Commision
Aȴȴ I Nɛɛd – England x Reader
An irritated sigh slithered past his lips as he raked his fingers through his unruly hair. Tapping his pencil on the wooden surface of his desk, he grumbled at the slow screen impatiently. A pile of neglected paperwork rested on the side of his desk, but Arthur was too tired to even think of doing it. The Brit rubbed the side of his sore neck, aching from hours of hunching over his small desk.
A set of warm fingers slipped around his cold wrist, pulling him up and forcing him to get out of his stiff chair. Arthur growled slightly, looking down at a mischievous face.
“Hello, Arthur,” you sang, smiling impishly as you pulled him closer. “Weather’s nice today, isn’t it?”
He groaned, blowing a piece of hair out of his face. “Not that I would know,” he said. “I’m been stuck inside all day, and it’s already almost eleven.”
You cocked your ear towards him, putting an
RussiaxReader Two Broken Hearts- 4It had been 2 long and lonely weeks since the horrid incident with Russia. Yet what he did to you didn't change your feelings for him and you were emotionally sick. You had tried to call him numerous times throughout the weeks but he would never answer his phone. Not only to you though. He has isolated himself from everyone else and that worried you even more.
It was a warm summer day in your homeland and the sun beamed down on you, giving you a nice tan. People greeted you as you walked down your neighborhood streets, every one knew that you were the countries personification so naturally everyone was very friendly to you. You smiled back at them in return but the smile plastered to your face was fake. You were worried sick for Russia, no one had even see him for the past few weeks and he neglected to appear at the world conferences.
Your heart ached as you were feeling so guilty for hurting him so much... WAIT!! You didn't do anything! What were you thinking! You turned around sharpl
Stranger LoveI am not the sunlit wing-print
splayed out on the bedroom wall.
I am not the dark mass forming
in a corner of an airless hall.
I am not the viscous vengeance
where you sink your spinning wheels.
I am not the leaky bucket
hung up on your wishing well.
You are not my soul mate missing
wandering a winter's night.
You are not the sound of angels
singing by a candle's light.
You are not the rasp of fingers
fumbling with a hasp of steel.
You are not the tattered towel
soaking up the things I feel.
I am the oblivious child,
dancing where the wildflowers are.
You are my unwitting captive
lighting up a jelly jar.
A Week Of KissesA Week Of Kisses
The first day I told you I loved you,
I imagined kissing your shoulder,
Well before I thought about your lips.
Because I don’t know what I am doing, firstly,
But more importantly,
It’s because I know things can spiral quickly,
If things start shifting
After we lay down the concrete.
So I kiss the foundation,
Before we reach the soil.
The second day I told you I loved you,
I imagined kissing your elbow,
Because it holds together the touch
And the flex.
To exhibit it,
I must kiss the joint that bends
And combines us together.
The third day I told you I loved you,
I lay my lips to your temples,
As I learned about the temple of reform,
For the Youth in North America.
Kissing you there signifying I will protect you,
As well as your temple,
As we re-form, into something more.
The fourth day I told you I loved you,
I’d kiss you softly on your forehead.
Because that’s what holds your brillian
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More