#So peaceful and beautiful I want to live there

[formylovetodaryldixon]

"One of these days." Daryl Dixon Imagine.

For you and your husband, trying to find the right time to have a little fun is not always so easy.

A/N: Just a imagine that made me smile while I was writing it hehe, so I hope you guys enjoy it a bit too. Thanks! (with a small appearance of Denise fearing Daryl XD) (Not my gif!)

Daryl lifts you up for you to sit in the counter of the living room, his lips crashing against yours in a hard kiss as his hands pulls you close to him by the waist, the heat of your bodies getting mixed with the sole idea of ​​feeling each other after almost two weeks apart.

The last search for supplies had taken longer than usual, and between his arrival and your days and sleepless nights in the infirmary accompanying some sick people with Denise, the bed in your home had only recognized one lonely body.

Now, your hands tangle in his hair kissing him back, his tongue playing with yours, getting from your husband a low growl when your legs pull him close, feeling the bulge in his pants against you. Taking a ragged breath before sinking back into your skin, Daryl takes your black t-shirt off and his hands caress your soft skin as he kisses your neck, missing the contact with it; and too excited to waste time because he has to leave again soon. But your mind clouds with desire like a foggy morning, so you push his vest out of his body and start unbuttoning his shirt while Daryl kisses the skin between your breasts, making you moan.

“Do we really have time to do this?” You try to be reasonable, but your hands are still holding onto the buckle of his pants.

“Yeah…” He said, in a low, deep voice, but Daryl couldn't care less if he is late as he starts to unbutton your jeans. “Let me get ya ready.”

There was something extremely hot when he did that, like being in a beautiful hell in the way Daryl always ate you up first, like it was his duty, and his words make you lick your dry lip, feeling his on your belly that contracts with the heat of his tongue.

But when he is about to pull your jeans down, someone knocks the door, insistently.

“Shit…” He growls in frustration, getting up.

“Coming!” You get off the counter, putting your t-shirt back while he does the same with his shirt.

You start fixing your jeans as you walk toward the door to open it, feeling your cheeks red and hot while you smile at Denise.

“Hey, Denise.”

“Hey, (Y/N).” She smiles back. “Is Daryl home? I hope he hasn’t left yet.”

You nod, clearing your throat in fear that your voice will crack.

“He’s getting ready. Something happened?”

“No, no…” She moves her hand in the air, pulling a paper of her jean pocket next. “I forgot to write some things on the list I gave him yesterday.”

Behind you, the door opens and Daryl walks out, dressed and with his crossbow and his backpack around his body. He looks normal, his hair is kind of messy, but it usually is so nobody could tell the difference.

“Oh, hey…” Denise smiles at him, and he nods once at her while taking the paper, his personality usually becoming silent with people he didn't feel comfortable with yet. “I just wanted to give you this. Sorry to bother you.”

“No. It’s okay…” You say and look at your husband. “Daryl has to go now. Right, love?”

Daryl looks back at you, frustrated for your interrupted play time.

“Yeah. I better go.” He kisses your temple and looks at Denise. “Bye.”

He goes down the steps of the porch, walking away.

“Remember to keep it cool.” You chuckle, referring to his erection that would take time to get down. “And please be careful.”

Looking over his shoulder, Daryl waves his hand in the air, because that is his special way of telling you that he will be careful.

Life within the walls of Alexandria moved slowly, calmly like a sleeping river instead of feeling like wild waves, giving you and the family you made when that new world arose, a sense of peace after having been wandering out there for so long, dangerously all the time. Fortunately, life there was kind of peaceful, and that had stopped the chaos in your worlds and the fear that some members of the family sometimes fell into. But that night, as you return home from work, you can allow yourself the luxury of admiring the bright moon that shines and illuminates your path, as a sign that for that moment at least, the darkness of the world is no longer as terrifying as it used to be.

“Were you married to Daryl before all this, (Y/N)? Or did you meet him when all this madness started?”

Denise is reserved and shy, but there is also a sweetness in her that is still preserved, intact, like a living proof that there were still good people in the world.

“We actually met like two years before all this.” The memory makes you smile at her, a latent feeling awakening in your heart with some shyness. “We had been married for a few months when the dead started to rise.”

Denise nods, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

“Daryl is… intimidating…” She chuckles nervously, but there is something in your soft laugh that encourages her to continue. “But in this time that you two have been living here I have noticed the way he looks at you, or how Daryl looks for you with his eyes in a room full of people, at community meetings for example. But he is not very talkative, is he?”

You laugh again, a little longer this time as you see your husband sitting on the porch steps a few houses away.

"Daryl is quiet, very reserved, and has a hard time letting people into his life, but when he feels like he can trust people, you can tell that Daryl cares a lot about them."

“And he was the same with you?”

You think about that, remembering that when he saw that he could trust you, Daryl became open to showing his own vulnerabilities, only with you, so it was easier to fall for him. Plus, he was and is still hot as hell.

“Something like that...” You nod softly. “Trust me, a couple of times I was close to throwing something at his head for being so stubborn and surly, but Daryl has a good heart. Just give him time to get used to this life, okay?”

Denise nods again, falling silent as you both finally stop at your house, with her waving at him and receiving a nod in response.

“Have a good night.” Her gaze meets yours, and you smile at her before she walks away to her own home.

And when Denisse is away, you chuckle as you walk over to the porch to sit next to Daryl.

“What’s so damn funny?”

“She’s terrified of you.” You chuckle even more as his brow furrows, his gaze on yours. “You scared the poor woman.”

Confused, Daryl watches the path Denisse took, for a few seconds before looking back at you.

“Did I do somethin' wrong?”

“No. It’s just that you’re so quiet that she feels kind of shy. But you could try talking to her a little, don’t you think?”

Even more confused, Daryl's gaze takes in an empty spot beside you, the white picket fence before looking back at you.

"What should I say?"

You shrug.

"I don't know. Maybe say something more than just a hey." When your hand makes contact with his cheek, Daryl leans into your touch. "Maybe show her that you are a sweetheart."

He scoffs.

"I ain't a sweetheart."

You chuckle.

“What are you talking about? You are a sweetheart with me.”

"Yeah, but jus’ ‘cause I love ya."

His words make you smile as you both lean into each other's lips. After Daryl let you in, you realized he had a lot to offer as a person with a good and brave heart. He was always a good company: he made you feel protected, in the old world too and even when you could protect yourself, but above all, it was damn cute to see him get embarrassed when you teased him, always masking his blush with a snort.

But when things got hot, like now, Daryl could be even hotter as you feel his hands on your waist, searching for the warmth of your skin under your t-shirt until he found it, sliding his calloused fingers over your flesh, sinking you into a new kind of desire. His touch is a silent plea for you to climb his lap, and you do, his hands holding you against him as his mouth takes yours in a hot kiss. Daryl chokes a grunt in your mouth, but you can feel his erection and he pushes your body down, dying to be inside you.

“Let’s do it here.” He says against your mouth. “S’dark and everyone is sleepin’.”

“Wow. That’s kinky.” You chuckle, your hands searching for his belt as he kisses your neck. But since life has a sense of humor, you can see the light of the living room turn on through the window, seeing Carol coming closer to the door. “Wait…”

Daryl growls in frustration, again when you get off his lap, but he learns forward a little bit to hide the bulge on his pants when Carol opens the door of the house you all share.

“Hey, guys, I thought you two were sleeping…” She says, smiling affectionately at you two. “I was looking for some water and I saw the kitchen light was already on, but… did I interrupt something?”

“No.” Daryl says looking over his shoulder, in a low, hoarse voice.

She looks at you, but you only smile shaking your head.

“Okay, then. Goodnight.” Carol waves her hand before closing the door again.

You wave her back, your own body falling against the railing.

“And… strike two.” You chuckle when Daryl lay down on the floor, covering his eyes with his arm.

That night, you may have used the shadows and darkness of your room to make love, but it still felt weird about doing it knowing that you and Daryl lived with Carol and Tara, even though you were a married couple, but at the same time, the thought made you laugh: because it felt wrong like the first time Daryl climbed through your bedroom window when you two were dating, before the world went to hell, because that night, everything became adult content.

The next morning, the day started early with you organizing the new medications that had been found during the last supply run, alone in the infirmary, accompanied by a comfortable silence as Denise took a day to explore her new relationship with Tara. And it was nice to think about that, in the mounting nerves that came with finding out things about the other person, the way you looked at her or him, the smiles and the shy laughs, the way your world suddenly seemed to fit together perfectly with them.

But when a knock on the door brings you out of your thoughts, you're surprised to see Daryl on the other side when you open it.

"What are you doing here, sir?"

"What? I can't visit ma wife at work?" He walks in, looking around as you close the door again. You walk back to the desk, stopping in front of the last few medicine bottles in the center. "On ma way here I saw Denise."

"You talked?"

Daryl, who was still walking around the room, stops, frowning in confusion.

"I'm not mute, woman."

You laugh.

"I didn't mean it like that, I meant that since we got here you haven't said more than one word to her."

Daryl mutters something under his breath, turning his attention back to the place as you continue reading the open book at your side. He spends like a minute or two in silence, reading the medicine descriptions from the shelves or touching the medical instruments, at least until you feel his body against you from behind, his hands on your waist as Daryl breathes in the smell of apples in your hair, thanks to the bottle of shampoo that came with the house.

Your tied hair gives him the freedom to kiss your exposed neck, and your belly flexes at the touch of his hands.

"I knew you came to see me for other reasons."

Daryl chuckles, and you breathe in, feeling the tingling between your legs.

“I've missed ya, I've missed the warmth of yer body.” His voice is always low, but it gets sexier when you feel that he’s that happy to see you. ““And we haven’t done it in weeks.”

You gulp, feeling his hand slipping down on the skin from your belly under your t-shirt, and your palms pressed against the wood when his hand gets lost under your jeans.

“Yeah, but–uh…” You gasp through your parted lips when Daryl rubs his fingers against your folds, over your underwear just to tease you.

“(Y/N)?”

But that is not his voice. Daryl removes his hand, cursing under his breath when you two see a person standing from the other side of the blur glass of the door. You sigh in frustration, but you chuckle too while walking towards it to opening. Rosita is smiling when your eyes meet, and you let her walk in.

“Hi, Daryl.” She says.

“Hey…” Daryl says back, leaning over the desk.

“Sorry to bother you, (Y/N), but I need something stronger than an aspirin. Abraham fell on his butt during the run and he keeps complaining.” She rolls her eyes. “Do you have something?”

You nod.

“Yes, of course.” You walk toward the shelf on the wall behind Daryl, smiling to yourself as he tries to hide his erection. You take two painkillers from a bottle and go back to Rosita. “If a man as big as he complains of pain it must be serious.”

“No. He’s just a big baby.” She smiles at you and Daryl, waving her hand before walking out. “Thank you. Bye.”

And she leaves, closing the door behind her. But when you turn, and to your surprise, Daryl doesn’t seem to be so frustrated as you think he would be.

“Whatever is going through your mind…” You chuckle. “It scares me.”

“I got an idea.” He smirks. “And this time ya ain’t escapin' from me, so finish quickly whatever ya're doin’ here.”

You narrow your eyes for a moment, giving him a confused look before finishing your chores.

But what is to come (pun intended) is about to come hard.

There, alone with him, your head falls back against the thin mattress inside the last cellblock, the view of the white ceiling disappearing when you close your eyes, and your mouth opens with a hot moan when Daryl makes you cum. Your grip on his hair loses strength as he gets up from between your legs to kneel, his hand replacing his tongue you to help you ride your orgasm. You let the air of your body go, finally going down from that high ecstasy after a moment as Daryl climbs over your body to be on top of you, shirtless, with his pants hanging now from his waist.

“That was just an extra.” He smiles sideways, part of his long hair covering part of his face, while your chest goes up and down with each breath.

“Yeah… I noticed it.”

Daryl chuckles getting up, but his smile falls when you two hear someone opening the front door of the basement.

“Stay here.” He says, fixing his pant as you put on your t-shirt that covers your thighs.

Daryl walks out of there, putting on his shirt as you put your jeans back on. Counting the few minutes in silence as you wait, he comes back frowning.

“Oh, no.” You chuckle. “What happened?”

“He jus’ came to read.” Daryl says, his voice full of sarcasm, lifting up his hands to mock of that person. “Yeah, right… I’m sure he jus’ wanted to jerk off in private.”

You laugh, falling on the mattress, laying down sideways to look at him.

“Who?”

“Eugene.” Daryl growls, pushing his hand through his hair. “Fuck…”

You keep looking at him: he’s frustrated even after making love, but Daryl looks so funny complaining for something so little.

“Come here.” You say opening your arms for him. “Come.”

Daryl exhales, his expression softening, and he walks towards you as you lay down on your back with him on top of you now, holding his face to kiss him softly before pulling apart to look into his blue eyes.

“Calm down, tiger: everything is fine.”

“Yeah… now it is.” He whispers with his lips an inch from yours, his deep gaze on yours. "But ya know what I was thinkin’?"

"What?"

"That s’bout time we got a fuckin’ house of our own, 'cause I'm tired of havin’ to sneak away to make love to ma wife."

You chuckle at his words, but they make you smile, too.

“I think that’s a very good idea, love.”

@fluffy-dixon

[simmplerussiangirl]

Her Princess

Part one

Ambessa Medarda x Reader

Synopsis: The only daughter of the Ras family is exchanged with the Medard clan for a peace treaty. Thanks to her pride and the hard core inside her, she doesn't falls into despair and continues to live. She continues to live to take revenge on her family for literally selling her to a clan of enemies.

word count: 1.6k

cw: selfharm, hatred, aggression, death, defiant behavior, Ambressa is a sweet bun.

Part One

- Princess Ras, you are invited to the throne room.

 I knew this was going to happen. I was informed about this three nights ago, but my heart still did not believe that my own family would do this to me. Of course, we were not an ideal family, but rather the most ordinary, aristocratic one. With an infinitely angry and indifferent mother who hated her daughter, with a tyrannical father who, like the mother, did not participate in the child's life in any way because of his busy schedule and unwillingness. It seemed to me that we were not a bad family anyway. I guess I was just imagining it.

 I got out of bed, straightening my clothes.

I was wearing a light burgundy dress, the hems of which moved from any wind current, it was spectacular, just the kind I needed. And also, more importantly, it was in the colors of the Medard clan. I wanted my parents to realize that I knew. I knew what was going to happen today. But, nevertheless, I forced them to make that cherished speech on their own, looking straight into my eyes.

As I walked along the corridor, I took one last look around my ancestral mansion. There was no fear inside, I knew I wouldn't be killed or tortured. Firstly, I am quite a valuable exhibit because of my abilities. Secondly, I would kill myself faster than anyone would want to bring me harm. I will not allow myself to die at the hands of the Medard clan. Never in my life will I allow it. I will not give such joy.

 A flame of hatred burned inside me with every step I took. Each heel strike against the marble floor was accompanied by a strengthening of inner resolve.

 Disappointment at what they'd done to me. It hardened me even more, preventing me from crying or fleeing. Rather, it pushed me to think of new ideas for revenge.

 I felt more and more confident, clutching the amulet around my neck that I'd inherited from my late grandmother. It carried no magical potential, but when I touched it, I felt myself fill with the strength to go on. To go on, no matter what. 

Already standing at the door, I was brimming with determination. No blade, no arrow, no word could break me, shake my confidence.

-Princess Ros. - I entered the hall with my head held high and shoulders squared. I wore a mask of infinite calm on my face.

 The room was quiet. There were no whispers, no sighs. There was no sound at all, even the ever-noisy clock mechanism was silent, and no candles crackled in the candelabra. Everything froze, as if at a funeral.

 The clack of my heels was like a hammer hammering nails into a coffin lid. I stopped in front of my parents, who were now sitting on the throne. But this time I didn't bow, just stared at them as if they were dirt under my feet. In fact, they were now. I had lost all respect for them, and even the thought of bowing to them made me gag. From this moment on, they were no longer my family.

 Behind me I felt Medard's warriors, led by Umbressa herself. I could almost physically feel their gaze. Uncomprehending, even stunned by my antics. I wanted to shrink and cower under the oppression, but I could not allow myself to do so.

 I looked at my father, who opened and closed his mouth, staring at my clothes in shock. It was beautiful. Watching the echoes of realization appear on his face. That I knew everything. Just waiting for him to ruin his daughter's life with his own hands. When he literally sells her out.

- "In the war with Noxus," his trembling voice broke the silence of the hall, and I saw him wince at his own weakness, "we lost too many soldiers, too many civilians, too many resources. And we made the decision to retreat, to sit down at the negotiating table. And we came to the conclusion that we would end the war and sign a peace treaty. On the condition that we give Clan Medard something of extraordinary value. Something that could replace our territories.

  My father stared at me unblinkingly as I stood there, smirking in his face. But what was going on inside of me...A storm of emotions, my chest tightening, tugging as if I were about to pass out. I wanted to cuddle up to someone and cry at how painful and hurtful it was to hear those words. To realize that they see me as a resource to be exchanged for something.

-Ambressa,- my father finally took his gaze off me and looked somewhere behind me. - I'm handing you my only daughter, Sophie. She is naturally endowed with an extraordinary gift of magic. I am sure she will be useful in your future operations.

 I heard measured footsteps behind me. Soon two of Medard's warriors appeared beside me and were about to take me under their arms so that I would not run away, but I just looked calmly into the eyes of one of them and shook my head slightly. They immediately lowered their hands without touching me.

 Ambressa stood a little ahead of me, her back covered in a multitude of scars that stood out strongly in white stripes on her skin. I looked at her with mild interest, for this was the first time I had ever seen someone so strong, much less a girl. I smirked at the thought that she could take on our soldiers by herself and not even get tired. Surprisingly, I felt nothing for her. No emotion whatsoever.

-I accept this...an offering of sorts. It was an interesting negotiation, glad we all got what we wanted. As of this moment, the peace treaty is now in effect. Have a good day.

 Without bowing, the girl turned and walked away from the hall. One of the warriors gently touched my shoulder, hinting that it was time to leave. But I had something else to do.

-Can I say goodbye to my parents? - I turned my head to the side, looking at the wall instead of at the general. My pride wouldn't let me turn around to look her in the eye.

-Of course we'll wait. Family is sacred.

Ambressa laughed a little at the comicality of the statement. I, too, smiled a little and began to slowly and quietly climb up to my parents, who were sitting on the throne. As soon as I reached a flat surface, my mother approached me.

-It's best for all of us, - she said dryly and unemotionally as always. Mother pressed me lightly against her, patting me on the back and pushing me away, as if my embrace and closeness might stain her.

-Absolutely.

It hurt to hear that, but I buried it deep inside me, not letting any emotion come out. Someday I'll cry about it. Someday, but not now.

My father came over to me, pulling me quickly against him. I smiled a bloodthirsty smile, anticipating my actions.

-I want you to know, - I spoke softly in his ear, hugging his back, - I've wanted this for the past few years. I've literally dreamed about it. - I knew my father didn't know what I was talking about yet, but that was just for now. - Remember when you told me that everything in the world boomerangs back?

 Quickly using my magic I created a fiery dagger that was suspended in the air. I heard a commotion nearby and sharply plunged the dagger into my father's heart. The man instantly collapsed in my arms and I threw him to the floor, a small trickle of blood flowed from his mouth, quickly drenching the expensive uniform, the floor and the hem of my dress. I instantly created an air shield around me and my father, which helped me protect myself from my mother, who was already running to her beloved husband in tears. Either wanting to kill me or spend the last seconds of her life next to him, looking into his eyes.

-So your boomerang didn't go as far as you thought.

 I saw the light of life go out in his eyes, but he couldn't even say goodbye to his wife because I wouldn't let him.

-I hope you burn in hell.

I felt my mother begin to thrash into my shield and saw my mother take her last hoarse breath and close her eyes. I, still remaining infinitely calm, got to my feet and took small steps down the stairs. I walked with my head held high, hearing my own mother's curses and hysterics behind me. I walked straight toward Ambessa, who stood with an impenetrable face. The girl might not have expected something like this, but at least she didn't show it.

 As I approached her, she held out her hand to help me down the stairs. I put my hand in hers.

 My life has changed 180 degrees in just a few minutes. I was traded for a peace treaty, I killed my own father, and I'm going after the girl who ruined my life. This is not how I envisioned my future.

I would be very grateful for feedback, as English is a language I am only practicing. I accept criticism in a milder form, do not break my heart, pls.

[amyispxnk]

AUGHHH MY GOD THIS SERIES MAKES ME SCREAM AND SOB SM ISTG. I LOVE IT.

Notes from reading as always 🙏..

   He’s always so supportive, so gentle, so easy with you. It makes your heart clench, makes it beat a little more just for him. 

   “Yeah, guess I am.” He turns his head toward you and gives you a heart-stopping smile. “I guess I see all the potential in those pretty eyes of yours.”

   Turning back toward the fogged-up passenger window, you lean against the door and smile. A smile that’s bigger than you’ve ever smiled before. You’re completely smitten by the handsome Texas man with big brown eyes. And he’s just continuing to show you how much life is worth living. Telling you how far he thinks you’ll go. But you don’t want to go far in distance. No. You just want to stay right here beside him. You think you’d follow him anywhere.

these two are SO FUCKING CUTE UGHHHH THE YEARNING. THE YEARNING, PEOPLE. ITS KILLING ME

   ...smile like your whole heart is right there in his eyes. “Thanks for seeing the potential in me.”

THAT WAS SO SWEET UGH

   He slows to a halt at a stop sign and turns to face you, eyes sparkling with promises. “Then I’ll be there every single time you need me.”

Literally screaming, crying, throwing up.

Also when he says he has to go - I love how respectful and mindful he is of her, not touching her despite wanting to, when wanting to comfort her. Your writing and the way you show so much character and depth through even the subtlest of actions like that is honestly incredible. I literally adore your writing so much

Ok I know I keep going on about it but genuinely Joel's characterisation is so well done. I love him so much in this fic, istg, like the way he picks up on things like when her hand gets shaky? So sweet

   You’re about to get up, run out the door, but Joel senses your worry. He slides the back of his hand against yours, brushing your skin gently, a way to say ‘Hey, I’m right here.’ And when you look up and see those big brown eyes gazing softly down at you, you instantly quiet down inside. Your knee stops bouncing, and you’re left with this overwhelming peace that seems to radiate through every part of your body. Like a quiet forest that soothes your soul, that’s what Joel does to you. He makes everything else around you so still, so quiet. 

IM CRYINGGGGGG.

   Ellie… That little girl tonight looked just like his lost daughter—the one he saved all those years ago. But he never fully saved her. Not after… not when he let her go…

Oh my god??? It's the way I'm about to start sobbing again if I was right(?)

   Don’t let go. Never let go. 

IM. SCREAMING. AND CRYING. SO MUCH.

And the ending was so beautiful as always.

Wow.

✨Saving What Was Lost Part 7: Your Hand In Mine✨

Pre-Outbreak! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: Get ready to meet soft, angsty Joel in this chapter. I would like to give him a big hug 🥺

Chapter Summary: Your first day of therapy is a little scary, but Joel helps you through it.

Rating: 18+ only MDNI

Word Count: 4.7k

Chapter Tags: Soft! Joel, so much angst, yearning, reader goes to therapy, dual POV, age gap (reader late 20’s, Joel late 40’s), mentions of violence and kidnapping, grief

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

“You nervous?” Joel asks from the driver’s seat, hands locked around the leather steering wheel.

   You nod while your hands fidget with your leggings. “Mmm, a little.” But a little’s a lie. You’re downright terrified. You’ve never been to therapy, never talked about yourself before like that. Well, Joel was the closest. You’ve talked to him, and you’re oddly comfortable with that now. But other than that? You haven’t done this.

   He must see the lie on your worried face and the terror ringing through your wide eyes. Giving you a gentle smile, he turns his focus back to the road ahead that’s shrouded in mist from the December rain. “Don’t be. Tess is great. You’re going to be great, sweetheart. I know it’s scary, but just know you’re taking that first step into the unknown. That first step of healing, and you’re going to do so well. I jus’ know it.”

   He’s always so supportive, so gentle, so easy with you. It makes your heart clench, makes it beat a little more just for him. 

   You take a good look at him. Watch as he cards a hand back through his tousled curls, watch as his green flannel clings to his flexed biceps, watch as that easy smile melts across his plush mouth. He’s just so nice to watch, so easy to keep your eyes trained on. 

   Darting your tongue across your bottom lip, you tilt your head toward him and give him an easy smile. “You’re always so sure about me.”

   “Yeah, guess I am.” He turns his head toward you and gives you a heart-stopping smile. “I guess I see all the potential in those pretty eyes of yours.”

   Your mouth parts, cheeks redden as you repeat that sentence over in your mind. He thinks you have pretty eyes. He’s always so sure of you. 

   Turning back toward the fogged-up passenger window, you lean against the door and smile. A smile that’s bigger than you’ve ever smiled before. You’re completely smitten by the handsome Texas man with big brown eyes. And he’s just continuing to show you how much life is worth living. Telling you how far he thinks you’ll go. But you don’t want to go far in distance. No. You just want to stay right here beside him. You think you’d follow him anywhere.

   When he stops at a red light, you brave another stare at him and smile like your whole heart is right there in his eyes. “Thanks for seeing the potential in me.”

   One side of his mouth curls up into a crooked smile, and his cinnamon-brown eyes sparkle against the windshield. “You’re so welcome, sweetheart.”

   When you catch your breath from melting, you ask, “Sarah said you see Tess, too?”

   He nods as the truck’s engine revs to life again. “She’s right. See her every couple of weeks or so. She’s patient and understanding and she really helps, I think. Helps when the nights get a little too dark for me.”

   The way he says the last sentence, his low voice sounds a little weary like maybe he fights the nights as much as you do. And you don’t miss the flinch in his right eye or the way his hand tightens on the steering wheel. He must get them too. The nightmares that haunt your dreams every few nights. You wish you could just scoop them up, replace them with dreams of ocean tides or snowy mountains filled with deep green trees. You wish you could take away his pain, whatever’s hurting him so deeply. He hides it well—the pain. But sometimes it creeps up on him, and it spills in different shades across his shadows that slip in his brown eyes. That’s something you don’t miss.

   Steady rain pelts against the windows, making the few trees in the distance look like monsters with tangled vines draping low to the ground. You flick your gaze back to Joel in the driver’s seat and another slow smile brushes against your lips. “Thanks again for driving me.”

   “It ain’t no trouble, sweetheart. I’ll drive you till you don’t need me to.”

   Another skipped heartbeat, another butterfly flitting through your stomach. The man is so sweet. 

   Biting your lower lip, you brave a question, mildly testing the waters. “What if I always need you to?” It comes out quiet, but not so quiet that he doesn’t hear you.

   He slows to a halt at a stop sign and turns to face you, eyes sparkling with promises. “Then I’ll be there every single time you need me.”

   “Promise?” 

   Another smile. “Cross my heart.” He folds a hand over his chest, promising once again. 

   You giggle under your breath, your eyes never leaving his. “Well, looks like I can trust you then.”

   “You can always trust me, sweetheart.” And he means it. You can always trust him, and you know that. God, you know that. 

   When the tires start spinning again on the damp pavement and the low sounds of an old Western song plays through the speakers, he clears his throat and speaks. “It’s gonna be a late night for me.”

   You flip your eyes back to him and give him a worried stare. “Do you have to go somewhere?” You already know what that means. He’s got an important job to do. One where he might be gone all night, maybe till morning. 

   He nods subtly. “Got an important run I gotta do with Tommy. So I might not be home till mornin’…” His voice cuts off. He knows you hate it when he’s away so long.

   “Gone the whole night?” Your voice is a meek whisper because you’re afraid what his answer will be. 

   He’s silent a beat. “Afraid so, but hopefully that ain’t the case. But still, even if I am back earlier, it’ll be well after two o’clock in the mornin’.”

   Your stomach churns just thinking about it. When he’s not across the hall when you’re sleeping, when he’s not just mere feet apart from you, it’s like something’s missing. There’s a void in the pit of your stomach, and you can’t seem to unravel that feeling till he’s in your space again. “I hate when you’re gone all night…” Your words falter, they break like your voice shakes.

   “I know, sweetheart. I know.” His right hand drops to the center console, just inches from yours. He seems conflicted, seems like he wants to reach out and graze his calloused skin against yours, but he doesn’t. But he’s trying. He’s still hesitant to touch you because you’re still so unsure of touch. He doesn’t want to scare you, and you know that. He’s just being careful. And maybe you’re still scared of physical touch, but his touch? That warm, gentle, soft graze he sometimes gives you. Well, it feels like sunlight skimming over you. 

   Carefully, you move your fingers in his direction. Just enough where you can feel the heat of his skin. You don’t touch him, not quite. But this is enough. This is your middle ground. “I umm… I worry about you at night when you’re not home. I’m always scared that… that...” You can’t even speak it out loud. You’re scared he won’t come back one night. And you can’t bear the thought of that. 

   His brown eyes soften. “I’ll be alright, sweetheart. I’ll come back. I can promise you that.” You give him a small smile and nod, keeping your fingers right by his just so you can feel the heat cover your own skin. 

   Physical contact is still something you’re struggling with, but you think Joel understands that. And he does. Always so careful around you. Never one to put you in an uncomfortable situation because he does understand your situation. He knows exactly what you’ve been through, and he wouldn’t dare make the wrong move because he doesn’t want to scare you. And you appreciate that. You appreciate him. So this is enough. Right now in this truck—hands centimeters apart, heat gliding over your fingers, a whispered promise that he’s going to take care of you. 

   Yes. This is enough.

   After a few more minutes, Joel’s pulling into a little parking lot, right in front of a tiny building with a lit-up white sign that says "Essence of Healing.” Your heart starts beating faster, your breath tightening in your chest as your eyes scan the brightly-lit sign. “Well, here we are. You ready?” He turns off the ignition and pulls the key out, his brown eyes flitting over to you. 

   You swallow once and nod, an array of emotions spinning in your head. “Yeah, I think so,” you breathe out as calmly as you can.

   He gives you an encouraging smile and pushes the door open. “C’mon, then.” You open the passenger door slowly and close it with a bang, your knees shaky, legs wobbly with every step you take toward the door. 

   This is it. You’re actually going to talk to a therapist for the first time in your life. What if you’re not ready, what if you choke, what if you burst out into tears and can’t sputter words from your choked-up throat? These are all valid questions, ones you never really considered, but you’re here. You have to do this. You have to do it for yourself. You owe that much to yourself. You are worth it.

   When Joel goes up to the front desk with you, the one covered in green succulents and a calming, trickling desk fountain running the corner, you collect all the paperwork you need to fill out and in exchange give her your photo ID. Joel was kind enough to go with you to get a new one since your old one was lost somewhere in Washington. As for health insurance, Joel was paying out of pocket for you to be seen. But he promised he was working to get you on your own health insurance plan. You still don’t know why he’s being so nice to you, but without him, you’d probably be dead by now…

   After a few minutes of fighting with the paperwork and scribbling out wrong information, you’re about to break out in tears. They’re swelling in the backs of your eyes, making your lips quiver and the words blur on the page.

   “Hey. You’re alright,” Joel coos, taking the pen from your shaky hand. “Let me help.” And you do let him. He fills out the questions you couldn’t answer yourself—his home address, your phone number you still haven’t memorized, emergency contact information, insurance details, even going as far as helping you fill out medical questions you’re having trouble with. 

   As you look up at him all focused and intent on getting your paperwork done, a little spark sizzles in your chest. You study him—eyes glued to the page, jaw flexed as his rapt attention is on each question, tousled curls a little disheveled as he cards his fingers attentively while he thumbs through the pages. You’re a little mesmerized, a little surprised he didn’t just leave you to shovel through the numerous papers. Instead, he chose to stay right by your side, saving you from breaking down from the weight of so many unknowns. 

   You’re scared, a little overwhelmed, a little more nervous than you’d like to be. But with Joel, it seems like you can get through anything. 

   When the paperwork is all completed and he’s back at your side, waiting patiently for them to call you back, you feel a little better—like you can do anything if he’s there next to you. Call him your knight in shining armor, but he truly is. He keeps saving you, and you hope he’ll never stop. 

   The nervous jitters start up again when you glance up at the clock. Five till noon, right when your appointment is supposed to be. Your knee is bouncing up and down in tandem with your flexed fingers against your leggings. Fear trickles down your spine, slides into the deepest parts of your veins. And suddenly, you’re downright terrified. 

   You’re about to get up, run out the door, but Joel senses your worry. He slides the back of his hand against yours, brushing your skin gently, a way to say ‘Hey, I’m right here.’ And when you look up and see those big brown eyes gazing softly down at you, you instantly quiet down inside. Your knee stops bouncing, and you’re left with this overwhelming peace that seems to radiate through every part of your body. Like a quiet forest that soothes your soul, that’s what Joel does to you. He makes everything else around you so still, so quiet. 

   When you’re about to say something to break the trance you’re in, you faintly hear your name being called from the open office door.

   You sit up straight and look toward the door, up at the woman that just called your name. “That’s me,” you call out with a shaky voice. 

   “Ahh. There you are.” She strides up to you and holds her hand out. You slowly take it. She has long light brown hair, strong cheekbones, welcoming hazel eyes, and a smile that instantly soothes you. “I’m Tess, by the way. It’s so good to meet you. This one’s told me a lot about you.” She flicks her eyes to Joel.

   When you take her hand, it’s warm. “It’s nice to meet you, Tess. And of course he has.”

   Joel shakes his head and lets a low chuckle leave his lips. “Guilty as charged.”

   “You got lucky with this one. He’s one of the good ones,” Tess nods as your hands disconnect.

   “He is…” you repeat back, getting lost just for a second in his syrupy brown eyes. He seems to get lost in yours too.

   “You ready?” Tess asks.

   “Oh, uhh. Yeah.” You take a second to push yourself up off the cushioned leather chair, let your legs stop wobbling beneath you. 

   When you’re just about to follow her back, Joel’s low voice serenades your ears. “I’ll be right here waitin’. You’re gonna do great, sweetheart.”

   “Thanks, Joel.” You give him a lasting smile, until Tess beckons you back to her office. 

   “Come on. This way.”

   With one last glance his way, you watch the front office door shut and what awaits you is a long hallway with mint-green wallpaper. Pictures of oceans, fields of wildflowers, and open spaces fill the painted walls. A small white table sits in the middle of the hall with multi-colored flowers hanging over the table that are tucked inside a cream-colored pot. 

   When you make it to the fourth door on the left, Tess nods inside and lets you go first. “Welcome to my office. Hope it’s cozy enough for you.”

   Gasping, you take in her array of rocks and seashells on her back wall. Dozens of colorful shapes and sizes fill the expanse of it. But what really catches your attention is all the little sand dollars spread out by her computer monitor. Her walls are almost the color of sunlight, and she’s got a massive portrait of a west coast beach framed with love behind her desk chair. A white leather couch sits right across from her mahogany desk, and the scent of soothing lavender fills the air. 

   “It’s perfect,” you whisper, amazed by all the decorative details of her office. It’s so inviting and welcoming. It instantly calms you down. 

   “Glad you like it,” she smiles. “Well, have a seat. Get comfortable.” You comply as she gets situated in her chair and pulls up your paperwork. Sifting through it for a minute, she looks up at you with a bright smile lit across her face. “So. This is your first session, is that correct?”

   “Yeah. I… I’ve never done this before,” you answer honestly, a little scared of what she might say, but she only gives you another encouraging smile.

   “Well, you came to the right place then. We’re just going to take this slow, take it one session at a time. Healing is a journey. There’s no one single path to it. We’ll do what works for you, what you’re comfortable with. That sound okay to you?”

   “Mhm,” you nod with your hands clasped tightly in your lap. You’re so fucking nervous, but this is normal, right? Everyone is scared of something they’ve never done before. But this? It seems like all your secrets will surely be unmasked, and that terrifies you. Sharing your past—what happened to you—isn’t going to be easy. Not one bit. 

   “I can see you’re scared, but you don’t have to be. This is a safe space. You can talk to me about anything. It’s all confidential. Nothing you say goes out that door.” 

   Your eyes flit to the closed oak door, and you nod in acknowledgment. “Right… Okay.”

   She scoots back and crosses one leg over her knee, leaving the open papers splayed on her desk. All attention is on you now. “How about we start from the beginning. Before… before you were taken. Maybe start with your childhood?”

   “Oh… I… Well, that’s a lot to tell,” you gulp out nervously. Your childhood trauma is a whole other monster you still haven’t tackled. 

   She smiles. “We’ve got an entire hour today. And if you come back, we’ll have many more sessions to unravel your past.”

   You bite your bottom lip and nod, your nerves getting the best of you, but you push through. “Okay…” You take a deep breath and dive in head first. “Here goes nothing.”

   Four o’clock flashes like an alarm on the oven clock, telling him he’s been gone for hours, but really, it feels like it’s been days. He reaches for the open whiskey bottle and pours the amber liquid over the square ice cubes in the glass. Every drop looks like the trickles of fresh blood that’s stained his flannel permanently. He should’ve fucking known tonight was not the night to wear nice flannels. 

   He scuffs his leather boots against the hardwood floor, dragging his tired legs from the kitchen to the living room, till he’s collapsed in a heap on the leather couch—one hand curled around the cold glass, the other raking down his face excruciatingly slow. 

   He failed. He was too late. Just minutes from being on time. Maybe he could’ve saved her. Saved that innocent little girl from her executioners. But he couldn’t…

   As he closes his eyes, he sees the flash of red covering the dark walls, serenading the lace of her pink dress. Eleven-years-old, just shy of turning twelve, a daughter that’ll never be able to return home to a worried mother and father. 

   He curses under his breath, feels the tears pour like droplets of water down his cheek. She didn’t deserve to die, didn’t deserve to be scared and all alone. He was supposed to save her, was supposed to get her out. That was his mission, and he fucking failed. 

   Three minutes. He was just three fucking minutes shy of saving her life, but he was too late. He misjudged the distance, didn’t realize the captors were early to their destination. He got there right after they smothered her—silencing her terrified screams forever. He can still hear them like shrill sirens blasting through the base of that rundown building. This isn’t the first time he’s been too late, but God. This one hurts like hell because it reminds him of someone he lost along the way. Someone he loved just as much as Sarah.

��  And so, he did what he did best. He took them out—all the men that had hurt her. Thankfully, he took backup, including Tommy. He smothered their screams, pushed daggers into their throats, shot them dead in a frenzy of rage while his teeth were clenched and eyes were fogged with held-in tears. When he looked at that poor, lost girl—it nearly took him to his knees. Those eyes. Those same lifeless hazel eyes that still haunt his dreams to this day. They were the same shade as hers… The little girl that forever changed his life. The one that he wishes was still here…

   Ellie… That little girl tonight looked just like his lost daughter—the one he saved all those years ago. But he never fully saved her. Not after… not when he let her go…

   A wave of emotions floods through his chest as he takes another stiff drink of alcohol, letting the whiskey burn through him while visions of hazel eyes and crimson fill his foggy mind. 

   He was too late. He fucked up. He misjudged the minute hand from the second hand. Time slipped away from him. And before he knew it, everything he planned for was lost to the eerie night. Instead, it ended in bloodshed and turmoil. He hates it. Hates when things have to get extremely violet, but what choice did he have? He had to take them out because they stole an innocent life—a life he was supposed to keep safe. 

   He’s so lost in the crimson-stained memories in his mind that he almost misses that small, meek voice of yours. “Joel?” 

   When he opens his eyes, a part of his soul shatters. There you are, a plush blanket wrapped around your shoulders, heartbreaking eyes shining over to him from the staircase. You take in his half-drank glass of whiskey and the dried tears that stain his cheeks. But also, you see the faint crimson that tarnishes his flannel shirt. 

   Blood. There was so much blood… like a liquid pool of death.

   He adjusts his back against the leather cushion and sits up a little straighter, just so he looks less worn down and broken than he already is. You see right through him though. You always do. “Sweetheart, it’s late. Why don’t you…” 

   “Are you… okay?” Your voice whispers across the room, silences the crackling embers in the fireplace. Your voice… it sounds broken too.

   “I, uhh. Jus’ please, go back to sleep.” He tries to push you away, tries to get you to return to your room so he can sulk in peace. He doesn’t want you to see him like this. Doesn’t want you to see just how physically and mentally defeated he actually is. He’s not as strong as you think he is. He’s fragile, grainy sand that gets blown away by the wind. He’s not rock-solid; he’s quicksand.

   You slide into the seat next to him, close enough where your knee could brush against his. “I’m not leaving you.” There’s finality in your tone, still soft but firm on your decision. And there’s those eyes. Those fucking beautiful eyes that could silence all the built-up pain he has piled on his heart.

   You’re so fucking beautiful.

   “Are you hurt?” You ghost your hand across the leather, reaching out just enough where he feels the heat of your skin. It soothes him over just a tad, but nothing can quite wipe away the excruciating weight of agony he’s carrying now.

   “No. I’m jus’… I’m so tired.” He pinches his eyes closed and takes a deep breath, his hand clutching the cool glass of whiskey like it’s his lifeline. “This job weighs on me like solid concrete. Some nights are so fuckin’ hard. Some nights jus’…” He pauses, takes a deep breath in and blows another out. He can’t finish. He’s too tired, too strained from the past few hours, months, years.

   He’s so fucking tired; he just needs some rest, some peace, some symbolism that he knows he’ll get to the finish line. But he’s been so struck down ever since he met that certain hazel-eyed little girl. Ellie. His little girl…

   “What happened tonight?” Your voice comes off as a whisper. Maybe you’re just as scared to hear what he has to say. 

   He taps the edge of his thumb against the solid glass and takes a deep breath. “We uhh… I lost her. Her name… her name was Abigail. Just a little eleven-year-old, and I was supposed to save her, to get her back to her parents. But I… I was too late. I was too fuckin’ late.” There it is. The pen drops, another tear splashes down his stained flannel, and he’s lost to grief again. 

   You pause a beat, but you gasp loud enough for him to hear the horror in your voice. He’s a failure. You must think he’s such a failure. “Joel… I’m so… God. I’m so sorry.” There’s only sorrow in your lilty voice, no anger or resentment that he failed yet another soul. You’re just as sad as him, he thinks.

   “I failed her… I failed everyone…” He shakes his head, sets his mind a little straighter just so he can grit the words out. “Sometimes I feel like none of this is worth it, like I don’t make a difference. Because when this happens, it makes me feel like I’m already six feet underground.”

   “Oh, Joel. No.” He feels it—the couch creak beneath him, the weight of your body sliding over, your hand inching closer to his. “You save so many lives. You make every bit of difference. You change lives.” There’s so much assurance in your voice; you’re trying to soothe him over.

   He snaps his eyes shut and shakes his head, anything to stop the burning sensation in his watery eyes. Maybe if he doesn’t blink then he won’t feel the pain of this gut-wrenching moment. “But I… I couldn’t save her… I couldn’t save…” 

   Ellie…

   With his eyes still shut tight, he feels warmth wrap around his hand, feels the soft caress of your skin. And when he opens his eyes wide, he sees the most beautiful shades of softness gleaming from your pretty eyes. 

   “You saved me. And that… that means everything to me. You saved me. You saved your daughter. You saved so many lives. You are a hero, and don’t you dare think otherwise. Not for one second.” There’s tears licking your lash line, the most sincere look over your pretty face. A desperate plea to get through to him. And in that moment, he believes you for a second. Believes that he is a hero, even when he doesn’t believe it himself.

   His bottom lip trembles as tears gather in his watery eyes. Something hits him deep in the gut. Longing, the fear of losing you, and an all-consuming wave of tender emotions. He sees you. He really sees you. Such a beautiful soul. Such a lovely, amazing woman. To think he almost didn’t go to that auction, almost wasn’t able to save you. What would he do if he never found you? It stings to even think about. Because you… Well, you’re everything all at once. And he’s so fucking soft for you.

   Carefully, softly, he laces his fingers through yours, holds on for dear life, praying you never let go.  

   Don’t let go. Never let go. 

   Your hand is a perfect fit for his. Every line, edge, dip carved specially for his hand to fit in. The weave of your fingers against his, the light brush of your skin, the heat that spirals into complete warmness when your skin slips against his—you were fucking made for him, just as he was for you, he thinks. Because when your bright eyes and soft smile are in his presence, he sees pure sunlight, sees the pure angelic essence you’re bathed in. 

   He was made to find you. This much he knows. And whether you choose to stay or go—he’ll have this moment to hold on to. Because he got you once. Your hand in his. This right here is everything he’s ever needed. It may just be your hand brushing against his, your fingers intertwined together, but it feels like home. You feel like home. 

   So, he lets the soft rain pelt outside against the living room windows, lets the dying fire crackle and pop in the fireplace, and savors the feel of your honey-like soft skin sliding against his. And he stays there for several minutes, maybe an hour, and there’s only silence shrouding the room. But your touch? It screams volumes, makes him feel human again. 

   For a breath of a moment, you’re his. 

   Texas rain was a rare phenomenon. Misty showers only a once in a while type thing. But you? You made it pour, made the flood waters wash clear through Austin. He didn’t see it coming, didn’t expect anything like you. But it sure as hell knocked him clear off his feet when you bathed him in your electric thunderstorms. 

Tag List: @clawdee @jellybeanxc @lotusbxtch @thebeldroramscal @laurrrra

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[holylulusworld]

Roll the dice (1)

Summary: You’re in trouble, and it’s all your fault.

Pairing: Mobster!Steve Rogers x fem!Reader

Warnings: mafia au, angst, mentions of criminal activities, mentions of sickness, mentions of stealing, scared reader, bruises, hand around throat (non-sexual)

Catch up here: Roll the dice (Prologue)

Holding your breath, you watch it land on… 3

“Three,” you murmur, scared to the bones. While Steve smirks darkly, you wring your hands. This can’t be good. Of course, it can’t. All your life, you never had luck in the game. Why change your bad luck now? “What does it mean?”

Steve crouches down to grab the dice. He chuckles as you try not to faint. His cheer presence is intimidating. Having him up close while he holds your life in his hands is terrifying.

“OH, you got lucky, doll,” he taunts. Steve grabs your hand to place the dice in the palm of your hand. “Three means roll the dice again.”

“Again—” you whimper. Rolling the dice once was scary, and you made peace with death, even embraced it with open arms to end this nightmare you’re living in. Rolling it again means doom. “No… please decide.”

“I don’t make the rules,” he lies while his smirk deepens. His cheeks dimple and he almost looks like a beautiful angel, if not for the dangerous glimmer in his ocean-blue eyes. “How about I explain what every number means before you roll the dice again?”

A question is not in his words. He will tell you what the numbers mean, whether you want it or not.

You nod the moment his features darken. “Yes. Please.” You’re surprised the words come out of your mouth at all. It was a struggle to bring yourself to speak to him.

“One means quick death.” You shudder at his happy smile. “Two means painful death.” You whimper as he cups your jaw to force you to look him in the eyes. “You already know what three means.”

Steve watches your eyes glistening with unshed tears. He grins like the devil as he leans closer, his nose brushing yours.

“Four means an eye for an eye. In your case, it means paying me back my money, but ten times the amount you stole from me.” He hums when you silently start to cry. “I like five very much. It means working for me for the rest of your life. You already know about six, too.”

None of the options are appealing to you. Steve lied. There’s not a chance you get to walk out of his office alive and unharmed. You’ll never roll a six.

“So, go ahead,” he purrs your name and points at your hand. “Roll the dice again.” Steve gets back up to sit back down on his armchair, smirking as you stare at him with teary eyes. “Now!” He growls as you hesitate.

“Okay,” you sniffle and drop the dice, not even looking at it. You hold your breath and close your eyes.

“Aw, you’re a lucky lady,” Steve whistles. “A three again. Wow! I don’t think anyone ever got it two times in a row.”

You shudder. A three means you must roll the dice again. For a third time, you grab the dice and throw it toward Steve’s feet. It’s all a game to him.

“Another three,” he laughs in your face. “Pick it back up, lucky doll. Maybe this time, you’ll get a six, huh?”

Gritting your teeth, you glare at Steve. He’s toying with you, and you hate that you’re too weak to fight him. Before he can get mad, you move toward the dice to roll it again. You watch it stop at three and sniffle.

“Again.” He says.

You roll the dice. Three.

“Again, doll.”

Three.

“And again.”

Three.

You scream and throw the dice against the wall. “Why don’t you just kill me? I know this dice is manipulated!”

“You accuse me of lying!” Steve rises from his seat to grab you by your throat. “I gave you the chance to save your life! You’re not only a thief but ungrateful too!”

“It only ever shows three!” You claw at his hand, trying to get it off your throat. “Three. Three. Three!”

Heat speckles all over your face and neck. Your body becomes heavy, and your eyes flutter shut. You try to fight the invisible power dragging you into darkness, but it's useless.

“Hmm…yeah. That’s much better, isn’t it? Letting me take control over your body, life, and mind. You never stood a chance, doll.” Steve presses a kiss to your trembling lips before your head lolls back. “Did you honestly believe I would let you walk out on me? Of course, the dice shows whatever I want.”

A few weeks earlier, the night you stole from Steve…

“Steve, I don’t know why you let her get away with it. Man, she didn’t even avoid the cameras,” Bucky grunts. Steve and he are watching you walk toward the back entrance, your bag filled with the money you stole from your boss. “Let me stop her.”

“No,” Steve smirks. “I want to know why she found the guts to steal from me. She was always a shy little mouse. I wonder what happened.”

“With all due respect, that’s just stupid,” Bucky huffs. He can’t believe his friend lets a random employee get away with stealing from him. “This could ruin your reputation.”

Steve chuckles. “Buck, she won’t get far. I told Sam to keep an eye on her, and Jensen is checking on her digital life. I’m still Steven Grant Rogers, not some inexperienced newbie. Likewise, I know what I’m doing.”

“You’re playing with fire, Steve.” The brunette can only watch you sneak out of the door, the money still in your bag.

Steve grins like the wolf he is and says, “I think it will be worth it, Buck. I haven’t had much fun lately. I’ll get me a sweet little mouse to toy with...”

Tags in reblog.

[slaaverin]

I'm in my bed crying over jikook again.

The thing is, I don't even have the proper words to express what I'm feeling.

It's all so..God I don't know. Improbable? Crazy? It's crazy.

You have two humans that have the most pure souls, with impossible high-stakes lives, that somehow found each other and also found the most beautiful love I have ever witnessed in my 32 years of life.

The probability of this happening is almost zero. It shows there are really bigger and smarter things than little us at play in life.

They went through so much, and so much more than any of us will ever be able to imagine, yet they remained pure at heart, with their love growing ever stronger and more potent by the day.

They let us in on everything, and showed us the true depth of their feelings openly (but even so, it's written all over their faces).

They simply care, a lot. The little things, the trips, the quiet moments, all of it, they really do care. It's not for show. It's real.

It's like we're getting a glimpse of something that doesn't belong to us at all. Yet, they are generous enough to let us experience it vicariously through them. Isn't it an act of love on their part? They don't have to do it. It's not even smart or safe or reasonable for them to do it. But they do anyway. Maybe because they wouldn't be able to help it, even if they wanted to?

How weird it is that our love for them is that strong? We've never even met them. Yet we feel for them something more unconditional than what we feel for some people we've actually met. How strange, don't you think? So we cheer on and support and we feel it all. We care too.

And I can't explain how witnessing jikook's love has been wonderful, how it has filled my heart with an immense amount of joy and reverence and beauty. It is a mystery.

Somehow I feel it's not even about them, even if it is, obviously so. It's simply that love. Isn't something most of us miss? Long, crave for? Wish for everybody.

If all the people would be in love like Jimin & Jungkook are, there would be no wars in the world anymore. It would be completely different.

The lack of love produces incredible darkness, and it's only love that can fix everything.

So I think that's why I cherish their love so much. It is so very precious, so very important, in ways they might not even understand. The fact they have such an audience being exposed to their love, feeling all the feelings, it helps the world heal a tiny little.

It's not a small thing. It matters.

If we can all fill our little corner of the universe with that type of love, we would've won all the battles, done what we came here for, and call it a day.

They've gifted us the incredible gift of are you sure, where their love was quiet and peaceful and certain. They've given us the gcf. And Letter. And then there was Rosebowl, and MMA, and Black Swan. A thousand moments. Again and again they've showed us.

Now they are enlisted together, and I think that there's nothing more to add. Nothing to prove. Nothing to show. It is self-evident and we can only smile and be happy for them.

What an incredible journey it has been, full of laughs, of crying. So many tears (of joy).

When they will come out of military, we can say that a chapter of their life will close, and another one will open. Hopefully a even happier one than the one before.

So yeah I've decided to make a rather big edit about it, this first chapter, those 10 years of love.

(And you're not ready with some of the music I chose, it makes you feel ALL THE THINGS, prepare tissues)

Sorry for this post that is going nowhere.

Sometimes I simply need to scream my love for jikook. They truly deserve it.

Aren't they wonderful? Yes. Yes.

Take care lovely jikookers 💜

[bbybhr]

Edging with old man logan

Mainly a one-shot just to bust my confidence into publishing my fiction

Old man Logan had become a shell of himself, his mind consumed by the horrors he had witnessed and caused throughout his long, bloody history. The memories of the people he had lost and the things he had done had become a constant torment, an endless barrage of guilt and pain that haunted him every moment of every day. He had become a man of solitude, pushing away anyone who dared to get close,but still afraid of the darkness that followed him nonetheless.

And than you came around. A ray of hope in his never-ending torment. A light in his path he didn't thought he deserved. A chance to truly live, away from the shadows of death.

You were the last shred of control that he had left, the only thing that tethered him to his humanity. He was a man plagued by demons, haunted by a monstrous alter ego that threatened to consume him. In your presence, however, he found a sense of peace, a sense of control. And he had no intention of losing that.

That's why he kisses you with a passion that is nothing short of primal, a raw and unbridled desire that leaves you breathless. He would unleash the beast you tamed upon yourself, and You would fist his white shirt like it's the last thing that keeps you grounded while he tear up your dress in one move.

"Logan..."

You would call him with a desperate tune as you hear his claws, he hooks them under your bra tearing it apart. His claws millimetres away from your skin, moving down to your panties. His eyes devour you after he freed you from every piece of clothing. His claws retracting slowly to his knuckles as he stand on his knees between your legs. Standing there in his full clothing he didn't even unbutton his shirt, too impatient to have you this helpless under him.

"Fucking beautiful"

He whispered and leaned on you again. One hand steading his weight over you, the other kneading your breast, caressing your sensitive nipple here and there. Making your breath hitche.your hands come up, trying to grab his wrist hut he warns you.

"I don't want to see your hands on me tonight princess...do you understand?"

You nod as you grab the sheets with your fingers while you feel his thigh coming up slowly in between your legs, urging you to grind against it and get off as he was too busy working his tongue over your nipple.when you didn't move your hips (not as noticeable as he wanted to)he looked up,moving his head from your breast to your throat.

"Com'on...Don't keep me waiting sweetheart..."

He voiced in hoarse way,making you shiver.

"Hear, let me help you"

He moved his hand down to your core, leaving your poor nipple alone. He dragged his finger over your clit making you jump and squirm.

"Stay still"

He said with an unmoved expression, wanting way more than that. He moved his position, more on his knees now but still hovering over you. The hand he was leaning on to came and grabbed your jaw, forcing your lips open. He put his hand over your parted lips, the ulnar fleshy side of his palm under your teeth.

"Bite"

And as soon as you questioned what he said you got your answer, he pushed two of his fingers inside of you. Stretching your tight hole. You bite at his hand and mewl, feeling his finger pummelin inside you. You could hear the wet sound they made while moving in and out so clearly.

The knot in your stomach pulled tighter and tighter, but as the feeling of the familiar satisfaction approached, he stopped,suddenly pulling out his fingers leaving your hole empty.

Your eyes got widened. Looking up to him with tears in your eyes and his hand still on your mouth.

"Hmm... I don't think so"

He said nonchalantly, his hand over your cunt, fingertips traveling through your foldes, over your pulsing hole. Making you fist the sheets with so much force that beside your shaking legs they trembled too.

"I think you're in for a surprise darlin, too bad you can't beg for it now huh?"

You closed your eyes in the feeling of his fingers filling you again, but now instead of the cruel pace, they scissored inside you. His thumb came up, finding your clit, caressing it lightly at a circular motion.

Your eyebrows scrunched up, you were lost in the sensation of his fingers working on you. Your body begging for a release, your mind focused on getting the orgasm that it missed.

He moved his hands from your mouth without looking away from how your hole swallowed his thik fingers, coating them with your wetness.

"Breath"

He reminded you, making you take a deep breath you didn't know you needed until now

But before you could exhale he put his hand back on. Making you sob as you pushed your head on the pillow in frustration.

"Look at you darlin...I would feel pity for you,princess ,if I didn't know how much you fucking love this"

Everything became so much, you swear you could feel Everything ten times better. But as that feelings build up, he again leaves you on edge. Taking his finger out and leaving your puffy nub alone. You hit your head on the pillow with frustration, overwhelmed by Everything.

"Imma give you ten seconds...cum or your gonna spend the whole night like this"

You quickly nod and he shoved his finger inside of you again picking up a relentless pace, his hand slamming against your cunt...ten seconds?you only needed five till you feel that mind blowing release, it snapped something inside you. And before you realise you gushed all over his hand

"There we go...my good fucking girl"

He moves his hand from your mouth but his fingers still inside of you, riding you down your high. But even after that he goes on.

"Please...logan"

You beg for it to stop only for him to smirk, taking your state in.

"We're not done even forplaying sugar"

He leans and whispers on your lips.

[c0s-lettuce]

Not sure if this will make sense

But can you do when were Sergei first love comes back. Either he runs into her when he’s out hunting someone and it ends up being her father

a/n: hi nonnie, thanks for the request! i decided to write this in more of a blurb style, hope that's okay!

------

it's hard to forget first love, let alone one that was so strong. sergei was young when he met her, but he knew immediately. this was no passing fancy. that's why he ended it. it was his last act of control before he fell in too deep.

his new life was lonely, but he accepted it. he told himself he was sparing her from future heartbreak. it was for the best. he wasn't made for love, at least not anymore.

he would think about her less and less over the years. not necessarily because he stopped caring, but because he just didn't have the time.

but sometimes he couldn't help it. he'd hear a song that she used to like, or he'd walk past someone who resembled her. or sometimes, during sleepiness nights, he'd think of her completely unprompted.

work was a good distraction. sergei was following a rather long trail of people when he came across his next target. but the name gave him pause. he stared at the surname. her surname.

but the first name belonged to a man. sergei shook his head. there are eight billion people in this world. this was just a coincidence. a distant cousin, at most.

but soon, he found out that this man was in fact was her father. sergei remembered very little about him, except that he was distant and shady, much like his own father. perhaps that was a reason he got along so well with her.

but currently, sergei was at a loss. what was he supposed to do? abandon the hunt? find out more? try to find her?

no, no. he couldn't possibly... could he?

but after too much stalling, he decided he couldn't keep running from her forever. he had to face this. it was time.

------

she lived an unassuming life, doing what she needed to get by. it was a peaceful existence, if it wasn't for her father's constant pestering.

she didn't know the details of his criminal life, steering clear of him as soon as she was old enough. desperate to reconnect, he would regularly reach out to her and try to make amends.

it was all for show. she knew this. he was only trying to make himself feel better for being a shitty father. so, she ignored him.

it didn't take long for sergei to find her. however, it did take long for him to approach her. he watched her leave work one night. she was beautiful. more graceful, almost ethereal. but most of all, she was still... her.

she froze when she heard her name. the voice was low and rough, but strikingly familiar. she turned around and saw him, standing before her. sergei kravinoff.

for a moment, she could only stare. she was speechless. sergei couldn't help the satisfaction he felt from still having that effect on her.

"it's been a while," he said. "can we talk? over dinner, maybe?"

no, she wanted to say, as unpleasant memories threaten to surface. she didn't want anything to do with him.

sensing her hesitation, sergei added, "please? it's about your father."

she furrowed her brow. what does he know about her father? she wasn't sure what sergei was involved in these days, but if he's sought her out after all this time, it must be important.

finally she spoke, "alright, fine. lead the way."

sergei nodded, relieved. as they walked, he tried to calm his nerves. he wasn't here to reconnect. he was here strictly for business. but history is bound to repeat itself. he would start falling for her again. he would feel like he's losing control. but maybe this time, he won't run.

[thesongoficeandfir3]

Dark!Aegon i x reader

A/n: 18+ ONLY! reader is a Baratheon but race is NOT mentioned however the reader does have the features of a Baratheon (blue eyes and black hair), reader is female with female anatomy

Warnings: SMUT, DC, power imbalance, age gap (reader is of age), innocence kink? Lmk if I missed any

Would rate 🖤 out of three on dark scale

Would rate 🌶️🌶️ out of five on smut scale

This is my first time writhing smut so sorry if it’s shit 🙃

Might do a dark Maegor or Young Tywin next

- Aegon had always prided himself as being a good man or more so a good man if compared to the many of the corrupt men in Westeros

- He would believe he did not have any darkness in him however, this resolve started to crumble when he met you.

- You were married to one of your father’s vassal houses and had a son however, your husband died fighting one of the many battles in attempt to take over Dorne, and due to the laws your son was sent to live with his paternal family thus leaving you alone once again like before getting married.

- You were still young and fertile and it was not uncommon for a highborn widow to be married again, thus why Orys decided to bring you to the capital where he spent so much time being the king’s hand. The capital always had highborns coming in and out so it was a possibility one of them may be your new husband

- When Aegon first saw you, he immediately was enticed by your beauty. Your hair as dark as the soils of Highgarden flowing down your back, sitting atop your head your mother’s sapphire diadem brought even more attention to your blue eyes, and the gold and black gown you wore clinging to your body beautifully

- He burned the image into his brain the way you nervously dipped your head down when meeting him, your blue eyes scanning his face desperate for his approval. It was almost comical to him how opposite you were to Orys, who was the embodiment of your house sigil as large and intimidating as a stag whereas you looked more like a fawn about to be slaughtered by its prey but he found it amusing none the less

- You would be in KL for many weeks but his obsession would be nothing more than a small flame, simply just admiring you from afar, but the small flame would turn into a roaring blaze when he saw you taking care of his son Aenys.

- You often found yourself alone and bored in the Redkeep since you hardly knew anyone there, so to keep you occupied your father arranged for you to take care of Aenys who was only a babe. You did miss taking care of your son who was now with his father’s family, so it was a sweet reminder

- One day after a stressful meeting Aegon was headed to his chambers for a much needed bath when he passed you in the gardens rocking and singing to a giggling Aenys, all the anger and stress vanished in an instant and calmness washed over him. It had been so long since he felt that way almost forgetting the feeling. That day he also felt a switch within him and a strong desire to keep seeing you like that

- He couldn’t help but use the same power he prided himself not abusing to abuse it to keep seeing you do that. He ordered that you become the sole caretaker and wet nurse to Aenys, making claims that the babe was so much calmer in your presence. You were so blinded by the fact that you missed your own son to see how odd his decision was

- Aegon was swift and discrete in chasing away any potential suitors who looked your way, also giving your father, his hand, more work than usual in attempt for him not to notice how much time the king spent with his daughter

- Convincing you to put Aeny’s crib in your room claiming it would be easier for you to take care of him, but it was more for him being able to walk into your chambers whenever he wishes and he could easily hide his reasoning just wanting to see his son

- When you start to feed Aenys, Aegon would often be nearby, watching with a mixture of peace and lust within him. The peaceful feeling coming from the knowledge that you are providing life-sustaining nourishment for his heir and the lustful feeling coming from what if you continued being the one to nurture and further his bloodline

- He would continue to stare when you place the babe down, your chest momentarily still exposed as you prioritize making Aenys comfortable first before fixing yourself. He would start to daydreaming what it would be like for you to be under him bare like that as his seed dripped from you after he’d taken you

- Things were going well for him soon enough suitors stopped talking with your father about potential proposals and you were always so obedient at his side without protest or rather you didn’t think you were allowed to.

- Panic starts to rise in Aegon when one day while having a drink, Orys mentions he wants to take you back to Storm’s End since he can’t find a match for you here, whereas in Storm’s End there was already possibility of three lords.

- That night Aegon summoned you to his chamber during the hour of the wolf you were about to grab his son thinking Aegon wanted to see him as that was always the case, but but the maid who called for you stopped you and said he only wanted to see you. You were extremely confused but obeyed the king’s command not having the slightest clue what was to happen.

NSFW below 18+ ONLY

You let out a strained gasp and whimper as Aegon’s body was pressed on top of you thrusting himself into you without warning. He squeezes his eyes shut at the way your walls immediately tighten around him making his brain turn into mush. He tries desperately to regain control of his spinning mind, burying his face into your neck and mumbling out calming words and hushes in a poor attempt to calm you as well as regain control of himself.

His body shakes as he tries his best not to thrust himself into you again for he knew if he did he’ll be finished before you two even get anywhere. You then hear him mumbling something over and over again in what you assumed was his mother tongue. Fortunately for you his temporary lack of movement allowed you to get used to his size but you still couldn’t help the soft whimper that slip past your lips.

His platinum blond hair already slick with sweat sticking to his forehead and pressing against your jaw.

He then slightly raised his head, his dark violet eyes scanning your features devouring you with just one look that made you feel butterflies in your stomach. It didn’t help when he moves a hand to caress your cheek, the feeling of it was callous due to the years of wielding blackfyre.

“Are you ready to please your king?” He says through a husky voice.

“Y-yes” you squeak out, surprising yourself with how high an octave your voice went.

With the conformation he doesn’t hesitate to begin rocking himself into immediately finding a rhythm. His movements fast yet calculated, as he was with most things in his life.

You nearly choked on your spit as your body involuntarily sucked in sharply the feeling of ecstasy being new to you. The few times you did lay with your now deceased husband was uncomfortable and quick as he valued his own pleasure over your own. Mewls and incoherent words start to slip past your lips. Embarrassed by this you slap your mouth shut with your hands but Aegon is quick to stop that.

Using one hands to keep himself propped up, he uses the other to restrain your arms above your head. He then rest his forhead on yours, his breathing coming out in pants as he continues his movements.

“You look so beautiful taking care of my sweet boy” he says between strained grunts “he needs a mother badly, he needs you to be the mother he lost” he says almost desperately his pace picking up

You hardly registered his words your back arches aching to meet his increased paced all you could get out was a ‘yes my king’ through a broken moan

Aegon can feel himself getting closer and buried his face back to your neck the sound of his grunts increasing.

“No, call me by my name.” He manages to say through them.

“Aegon” you say almost uncertain and soft, the word being foreign to you as you’ve gotten too used to calling him my king or your highness.

The volume dissatisfied him so he moves the hand that was restraining you bringing it down to your bud rubbing against it in a circular motion with his fingers to cause more friction along with his slamming hips.

“You will call me by my name when we are like this… You will scream it while I take you as mine” he says it like a command his tone booming with authority, a sharp reminder you were truly being taken by the king.

At the sudden added friction his name leave your lips faster than you can think it in a loud and desperate moan followed by curses no highborn lady should ever repeat. Yourself a few hours ago before you were summoned to the king’s chambers would be shocked that you had it in yourself to say that.

He lets out a hiss as he forces himself out of you, getting off the bed to stand at the edge of it before grabbing your hips and dragging you to the edge. You were still lying on your back as Aegon stood, preparing to position himself between your legs once more. First taking just a moment to admire you.

You didn’t have the slightest idea how badly Aegon wanted you below him as he pumped you full of himself, how during all those months how he’d dream about every part of you, how his need for you nearly went out of control when he saw you feeding his son motherhood looked so natural on you.

Aegon the cocky bastard knew you would be his eventually he was a conqueror after all, but his first plan was longer and would take time. It was foiled however when one drunk night with Orys, the man said he was going to take you back to Storm’s End as he couldn’t find a single match for you but already found three at your ancestral home.

The conqueror panicked and for the first time he had acted out irrationally. He wished your first time would be at your wedding you wrapped around the black and red cloaks of house Targaryen, a roaring sign of his success.

He is brought back to reality when he feels you arch your back causing your entrance to meet his tip, a moan escaping from the both of you. He grips your hips slamming back into you , his movements a lot more rougher and deeper with the new found stability.

“You should be honored Lady Baratheon, soon enough you will be carrying the seed of the conqueror and bear me many dragons” the headboard slams against the stonewall the loud slams almost challenges the screams of your pleasure and the begging of his name “you will be the queen” his thrust deeper than the last “you will be my queen.”

It doesn’t take long for you both to reach climax, his seed felt warm as it shot inside of you making you shudder. He desperately wanted to stay there but his body jerked and shook to his avail forcing him out.

As you come down from your high realization finally starts to settle in at what you just had done. A widowed woman of your position lying with a man who was not her husband. To fuel to the fire a married man, a married man who was the king. If word got out you would put great shame and mockery upon not only yourself but your house, the house your innocent father had worked so hard to claim.

Aegon senses the shift in your expression and when you try to get up he pushes you back to the soft bed.

“I’m sorry Aeg—, my king but-“ you try to speak out but Aegon silenced you.

“Shhh it’s ok” he mumbles out climbing back on top of you, his limp member rubbing against your sore entrance blood immediately rushing to it causing it to be hard again. “I’ll deal with Orys he’s a prideful man anyways all he’ll see is his blood on the throne so just relax for now” he says completely drunk on lust he’s not even sure of what he’s saying and his movements are sloppy and uncoordinated all he knew was that he needed to feel that over and over again.

[lxxiezz]

Solace in the fields

Shadow the hedgehog x fem!mobian!reader Reader is a fem!mobian lynx! (My cute lil idea) Not proofread, sorry y'all

It was a quiet evening in your home, you peacefully lounged on your living room couch, having some soft background music playing as you read a novel you found randomly in your bookshelf earlier, your partner, Shadow was away on a mission that he didn't specify much about. You didn't bother to push for more information about it anyway, you trusted him. You hear a sudden 'whoosh!' from behind you, as your ears twitched at the sound and you whipped your head around to see Shadow, causally approaching you and placing a kiss on your forehead. "Back already?"

You ask, not expecting him to come back so soon. "Sounds like you didn't miss me." He teased, circling around the couch to sit next to you. "(Name), I would like to show you something I have found while I was away." He spoke, as you placed a bookmark into your book and quickly switching off the background music you had playing, then turning your head towards him to give him your full attention. "What, now? It's almost 11.30 pm, Shads."

You lightly protested "Trust me, my love. It will be worth it." He offered you the smallest smile, before standing up, pulling you up along with him. "Alright, alright."

Shadow held your hand as you trudged through an unfamiliar forest with him, it was pretty peaceful at this time of night, only hearing the rustling of leaves and the chirps from cricket around. "Are we nearly there yet?" You nag in a lighthearted manner. "Almost, love." He says, holding your hand as he lead you through the forest, suddenly coming to a stop. You walk forward to stand next to him, looking at the landscape in awe. The lush of the forest stopped blocking out your view, as you see a small patch of grass and pretty prairie flowers, with an outline of rock deviding the grassy patch and the edge of a cliff that Shadow brought you to. "It's beautiful.." You murmur, upon seeing the gorgeous scene. The night sky was almost cloudless and clear, the moonlight shining bright, the silvery rays of light gently illuminating the two of you. You turn to look at him with a small smile. "Not as beautiful as you." He said, voice barely above a whisper. You stifled a short laugh from the overused phrase you hear often, finding humor in how it's considered corny. "Sure, honey." You said, walking forward to sit down on the grass patch, admiring the scenery. "I mean it." You hear Shadow say, as you feel him sit beside you, you lean your head on his shoulder. "(Name).." He began, as you turn your head to look at his pretty crimson eyes. "I wanted to show you this view, because I wanted to share the beauty of it, but to also remind you how much you mean to me." He spoke, intertwining his hand with yours. Offering you the slightest ghost of a smile. "And i love you, (Name)." You offer him a sweet smile leaning in to share a kiss with him, his lips soft and tender, feels like home.. you'd think. "I love you more, Shads." You reply, as he pulled you in closer.. In these moments, you loved him for the way he made anything feel so safe and peaceful.

THERE WE GO FIC NUMBER TWO LETS GO LETS GO im also finding my writing style and the banner thing ;3

[highbabyofthenightcourt]

Something I really love about Elain and Azriel is how they break the mold of what we’ve come to expect from acotar’s love stories. Fate and destiny are often at the heart of these romances—mating bonds, prophecies, signs—all intricately woven into the lives of the characters. But with Elain and Azriel, their connection feels different. It’s something they choose.

Elain seems to be trapped by fate. She didn’t choose to become High Fae, to become a seer, or to be tied to a male she doesn’t want. Her life has been shaped by decisions made for her, leaving her caught in a heartbreaking place where even her destiny doesn’t feel like her own. She’s been seen as fragile, as someone in need of protection. Her softness had always been mistaken for weakness. But Azriel? He saw her differently. He gave her his blade—not out of pity, but because he knew she was capable of wielding it. He trusted her strength in a way no one else ever had. Where others saw fragility, he saw resilience waiting to bloom. Where others tried to shield her from the world, he believed she could face it herself. And in doing so, he gave her something precious: a chance to decide what she does.

Azriel, on the other hand, seems to exists outside of destiny. He’s never had a mate. He wasn’t truly accepted among the Illyrians. Even his wings were denied to him far longer than normal. He’s spent his life feeling undeserving, shaped by a darkness he didn’t choose and forced into a role the world defined for him. Yet that darkness was never who he is—it’s where he’s had to survive. And maybe that’s why Elain is so important. She doesn’t let the world’s perception of him shape her view. She simply sees him. Elain sees the kindness, the vulnerability, the quiet strength he hides from the world. She sees someone worthy of love and belonging, not despite his scars but because of them. Her acceptance becomes his healing. She doesn’t try to fix him or ask him to change. She walks beside him, light and dark, and in doing so, gives him a rare gift: a sense of peace and worth in his own skin.

These characters always learn through their relationships. They experience love that isn’t quite right—love that teaches them who they are and what they need. Feyre had Isaac Hale and Tamlin, before Rhysand. Nesta had Tomas Mandray and Eris, before Cassian. Elain had Graysen, who couldn’t love her as she was, and now Lucien, whose bond feels more like a chain than a choice. The pattern is clear, these characters inevitably turn toward the person who’s been quietly there all along.

For Elain, who’s never had a choice, and for Azriel, who’s never been chosen—perhaps their love is more valuable than destiny. Because it was not forced upon them, but because they choose it.

And maybe that’s the point. Maybe fate isn’t something dictated by a magical cauldron. Maybe fate is two people deciding to love each other, even when all odds are against them. And to me, that’s one of the most beautiful stories of all.

[auguryofjellyfish]

i read something that made me think deeper about Kamimura's death and how i feel about it....Tsuno's death left me catatonic on friday because i love her deeply, but Kamimura's got wedged in my gut like a shard of glass. or: why Kamimura's death feels worse to me than Tsuno's.

it mostly comes down to the matter of his potential as a person and the circumstances of his death put together.

Tsuno…she had already found herself. just as some other characters, we have met her after she had already grown into herself, and "completed her arc". she knew who she wanted to be and worked tirelessly to uphold that ideal. she had loving family and friends and lived her best life, one that brought her fulfillment. she kept being herself in the killing game. connecting, caring, and loving with all her heart. she remained true to herself until the end.

she died doing what she's always have…trying her best. losing her is deeply tragic because she shone so brightly in life. she didn't manage to do everything she wanted, and it's not like she didn't have problems or flaws, she could have grown further. she didn't die with 0 regrets. it's not like she was done, no, nowhere near. but she was complete.

but..Kamimura... what…did he have? years of suffering and depression, multiple suicide attempts, shaky and uncertain future. barely any family, no friends. Kamimura entered the killing game having almost nothing. but that's not the worst thing.

it's that he was just starting to grow. the killing game and the motives made him absolutely miserable but at the same time...he was starting to form positive relationships. he had started to accept at least some level of support, after years of having to be independent. and obviously, there's Ken- who, if they all had gotten out, would 100% have stayed in Kamimura's life.

he contemplated his life and his dreams. he set a goal. even if small, he was still looking forward. he was starting to become more connected, to gain things he didn't have before...ever so slowly, he was starting to change...and i'm sure, despite his cynicism and ever-present struggle, despite the possibility of dying at any moment...that deep down, the littlest seed of hope for his future was just starting to grow.

and then he died.

it's not only him. it's also his massive unrealized potential. unexpressed feelings, unsaid words. un-lived life. he didn't manage to build a life that brought him satisfaction. he didn't…he didn't manage to do a single thing with his life that he wanted. he was nowhere near his full potential. he died as he lived and he's just gone and he got NOTHING. JUST after he was presented with the hope of his life possibly becoming different.

if Tsuno was at her best, a beautiful tree in full bloom cut short, then Kamimura was a little sappling slowly unfurling, and then getting stomped on and set on fire.

and you know what the worst part is? it didn't need to happen.

none of the previous deaths needed to happen, but they were forced to. this time, nobody snapped. nobody made a mistake, it was an active choice. there was NO good reason for him and Tsuno to die. just one person's selfishness, not even only to save their own hide but to also cause suffering. Tsuno's death was senseless and cruel but compared to Kamimura she at least retained some dignity. he didn't HAVE to be disrespected even in death, body torn apart and desacrated, like he was NOTHING. but he was, for the sake of a convoluted ass bullshit fucking plan.

yes, someone would have to die eventually with this motive. yes, not traumatizing hasegawa this badly thus incapacitating him would have added more risk for the culprit. idgaf. i'm not this upset that he died per se, it's that he died like this without being granted peace in death, with Hasegawa and everyone else unable to say proper goodbye because Kamimura's body's in fucking pieces.

[newyearseve1979]

Impactful, Beautiful Deaths: The Fall of Lilia Calderu and Tamerlane Usher

I will be comparing the death of Lilia Calderu from Agatha All Along, the death of Tamerlane Usher from The Fall of the House of Usher.

 Lilia falls. In the tower she stands in, facing a group of enemy witches, she goes on a speech that is really nice, and not relevant right now. Generally it provides the viewer with an understanding of Lilia’s character growth, and how her ability to sacrifice herself in the way she does is her happy ending. What happens is that the tower is flipped upside down, and so she falls. Tension is built as Lilia falls in slow motion, reaching up. Her sparkling dress flows out around her and as the camera cuts to show her from the side, there is a sense of beauty. She smiles, and then she is gone. 

When she dies she does so for unselfish reasons. Lilia holds all of the cards in her hand (see what I did there?) and approaches the situation with a clear head, unlike Tamerlane. Lilia accepts her situation and what must be done, as well as her relationship with death.

Tamerlane Usher also has, what I consider to be, a beautiful death. She is lit in all sorts of green lights, and as she is tormented by the force that is Verna (and her own paranoia) she shatters the mirror above her bed. She jumps up, shattering the mirror above her head. She falls slowly, shattered parts of the mirror reflecting her terrified reflection and broken mental state, in a slowed down scene. In the time leading up to this scene, she has been, in a sense, scattered. She hallucinates, or is tricked by Verna, and either way it distorts her sense of time and reality. 

Lilia Calderu also faces a messy timeline, but in a much more literal sense. It puts her on uneven footing, but at least she ends up with a small support system. 

Any support system Tamerlane could have found is something she pushes away. She refuses her husband. She refuses to sleep. Those who she ends up with (Madeline guys, I fear it's Madeline) support this. 

She shatters the mirror. The viewer sees shattered reflections of Tamerlane. Then time resumes to normal, and she falls unceremoniously on the bed and dies. The shards rip her to shreds as they puncture her. 

Lilia falls on spikes, and so she is also impaled. Calderu is stabbed through the back, Tamerlane through the front. Both scenes use slow falls and clever use of lighting to create suspense and awe of their deaths. 

Lilia chooses her fall. She accepts it. She finds peace and rest after leading her scattered life. While Lilia is peaceful because she has found this peace on her own, Tamerlane's scene is fascinating because there is a psychotic beauty in how she dies. Tamerlane has this rest thrust upon her. She struggles against death as she struggles against sleep, and so she dies in her bed with thousands of images of what she wants to see the least; a true reflection of herself.  Lilia chooses rest and accepts herself, and Tamerlane dies unhappy and tired. 

And one last point is fate. Lilia Calderu was destined to fall. Divination and destiny are the driving forces of her character, clearly. Destiny was created for Tamerlane. Both of these characters were set for their fates, but where they differ is in agency. Lilia chooses to play her cards in her own favor, and taking this power into her hands is what satisfies her and puts her to rest. Tamerlane’s face was created by her father and aunt, which she does not know, but the viewer does. She could have been given a more peaceful death (and this goes for nearly all of the Ushers) if she had been more open to the flow of her life and her dealings with entities like Rio and Verna. I do not want to liken Rio to Verna totally, because Verna simply is not Death. For these purposes though, they both represent an exterminating, natural force. 

Lilia and Tamerlane die in beautifully filmed and written scenes in which they fall. They both move through life, or at least the ends of their lives, in mental states that clearly aren't stable or standard, but for different reasons. This is why the forces driving them to their deaths and the consequences of their deaths exist on drastically different spectrums of peace and restlessness. 

I compared these characters because of the prompt I was given, but also because I have such respect for well thought out deaths. I love parallels. It also helps that Jac Schaeffer and Mike Flanagan are two of my major inspirations. If you’ve read all of this, thank you for your time and indulgence, and if you want to talk about anything related I love this stuff.

[simmplerussiangirl]

Her princess.

part two

Ambessa Medarda x Reader

Synopsis : The only daughter of the Ras family is exchanged with the Medard clan for a peace treaty. Thanks to her pride and the hard core inside her, she doesn't falls into despair and continues to live. She continues to live to take revenge on her family for literally selling her to a clan of enemies.

word count: 2.2k

cw: selfharm, hatred, aggression, death, defiant behavior, Ambressa is a sweet bun.

A/N: I wrote the second part in five thousand words, but decided it would be better to divide it into two anyway. I doubt that people will read such a large amount of text.

Walking down the stairs, I yank my arm out with force. I wish I could say I succeeded with ease, but alas, I didn't. I only succeeded because she let me.

 Ambressa Medard was difficult to be around. She literally pressured you with her status and authority. What to say that any average person would feel like a bug comparing their bodies and accomplishments. Inwardly, I chuckled at the thought that she had put thousands of men into complexes with her mere appearance.

  Here I was, standing in front of her and feeling like a little girl. Even in my high heels I could only reach her nose. So I had to raise my head to look her in the eye.

 But there was a huge problem. She was scanning you like she was reading you. And her gaze was heavy. The kind of look that makes you want to hide or at least put your eyes to the floor to get away from it.

 And I was no exception; I wanted to stop feeling it, badly enough. But my pride choked me. So I stood in front of the girl towering over me, breathing heavily, my eyebrows pulled down to the bridge of my nose.

 I saw a faint smile of approval run across her face, but unfortunately I didn't have time to see it. The girl turned around and walked toward the ship. I followed, still not saying a word.

 It took us about ten minutes to get to the dock, and when we finally stopped, I was overjoyed. My heels were insanely beautiful, but they were uncomfortable. They also made my feet bleed. The last few steps to the ship were the most painful, and I limped along, trying not to lose my face in any way; Ambressa could turn around at any moment. My shoulders were still squared, my head proudly up, and my face calm, as if I were not going into slavery, but on vacation in a neighboring country.

  Ambressa stopped near the stairs to the ship and let me pass through. I only arched an eyebrow in surprise and rolled my eyes.

-Are you afraid I'm going to kill you from behind? - I smirked wickedly.

-No, I just don't want my soldiers looking at your scuffed skirt. - She nodded toward the stairs - The stairs are high, and your dress is already moving in the breeze. But if you want to...-  she took a step toward the stairs, and I just put my hand out in front of her, blocking the way.

 I rolled my eyes again, and started to climb up the stairs, holding the dress on both sides so it wouldn't ride up. Since I was now the first to walk, I could take a little break and squint endlessly, biting my lips and cheeks in pain. The pain in my heart and the pain in my legs, which already had a trickle of blood running down my ankles.

 I climbed up onto the deck, and stepping slightly away from the stairs, turned to face the girl who was also standing on the ship.

- Don't expect me not to make life hell. Don't think I'll die so easily as a slave,” I adjusted my dress and looked into her face.

 Under other circumstances, I would have said her beauty was captivating. Her features were enchanting, mesmerizing, and even somewhat intimidating. The scars did not mar her face, only added to her charm and memorability.

- Who told you that you are my slave? You will not be a slave in my house, nor in my state as a whole.

 The woman turned and pushed me toward some kind of door. I reflexively took a step and nearly hissed at the flaring pain in my legs. Miraculously, I managed to pull myself together in time. But the girl seemed to have noticed something strange, either in my movements or in the sound I made.

- What is it? - She grabbed my chin, but I couldn't break free this time, so I just looked her in the eyes with distaste. - You look like a drowning cat. . They reach out and rescue you while you hiss and bite.

 She let go of my chin and put her palm on my shoulder blades this time, not pushing. She was just laying down to guide me in the direction she wanted me to go.

 We walked in silence for a long time as I ran her phrase “You won't be a slave” through my head. Thoughts were literally boiling in my head. Why am I there then? Does she really think that I would willingly agree to fight under her leadership using my magic? She can't be that naive, can she? No, absolutely not. Then maybe she thinks she can find something to blackmail me with. But I have no weaknesses; after all, I killed my father with my own hands. Only if it's through my country.,,

-Your pretty little head is about to boil. Ask me if you have any questions, child.

 I snorted loudly and rolled my eyes. Is she trying to gain my trust? Does she want to make the right first impression? Why the hell is she talking to me like that? Why worry about me and my condition?

-Whatever you want, sweetheart. - Ambressa stopped in front of some door -Your room for the next few days.

 The woman turned and walked back down the hallway, I watched the muscles of her exposed back roll over as she walked, as she moved further away from me. It was quite a breathtaking sight....

- No one will lock the door until the first time you make a mistake. Oh, and your maid Maria will be assigned to you tonight. Change before she comes; don't scare the poor girl with blood on your dress. There are a couple of outfits in the closet.

- You wouldn't dare lock me in!

 Ambressa never once looked at me, but I bet she smiled. Because she knew she'd do it if she had to.

 After waiting until I was completely alone in the hallway I opened the door and took an unsure step inside. I looked around the room. It wasn't luxurious, but it wasn't horrible either.

 There was a wooden bed pinned to the floor. It was already tucked into fresh linens in scarlet and gold. And near the wall were many different burgundy-colored pillows. By the small porthole was a desk, on which were sheets of paper and a couple of pens. Also in the cabin was an elongated wooden cabinet. When I opened it, I saw dresses of extraordinary beauty. There were three of them, all lavish, in the colors of the Medard clan and richly studded with jewels. The jewels sprawled along the bodice, along the translucent sleeves and hem of the dresses. This jewelry looked very much like splashes of bright scarlet blood.

- So he wants me to be a toy... A piece of jewelry... A trophy... Fuck that. - I laughed, and my laughter echoed off the walls and rang through my quarters.

I was angry. The last few days had been stressful enough as it was. And today was the last straw of my patience. Tears of anger, resentment, and hopelessness rolled down my cheeks.  I threw my dresses into the far corner of the room, threw everything off the table, and exhaled a sigh of relief. I turned to face the door with my eyes closed and breathed heavily, tears still streaming down my cheeks. As I opened my eyes, I saw the maroon pillows with the edge of my gaze and my eyes turned scarlet. Slowly limping, still standing on my heels, I walked over to the bed and used my magic to burn the pillows one by one.

 When I use my magic when my emotions are strong, it turns into a truly breathtaking sight. My eyes take on a blood red hue, my hair seems to lose its gravitational force and dangles quietly in the air. It is something like a strong wind blowing on me, but my hair is not tangled in any way, but goes behind my back, where it swirls up and down in a smooth wave. On my hands at this time you can see the glow, the color depends on the degree of complexity of the spell, as well as on the strength of my emotions.  The color changes from light red to coal black, as my grandmother told me while she was still alive. My glow once turned bright scarlet, and after that I was unconscious for over two weeks. I've never gone further than that, and I can't imagine what I'd have to do to turn my hands black.

 Hearing someone's quick footsteps outside the door, I braided weeds around the door, making a kind of barricade. I couldn't let anyone see the state I was in, and fuck it; some of the warriors probably heard me scream.

-Princess Ros, are you all right? - A man's voice called out, but my plants were untouched.

-Yes,” I hummed and sat down on the bed, finally taking off my shoes. I saw they were drenched in my own blood - Fuck.

 Footsteps were heard behind the wall again, it looked like the warrior had moved away from the door. I leaned back on the bed; arms spread, and stared up at the ceiling, digesting everything that had happened today. A tear rolled down my cheek again, and I lay in the fetal position, grabbed the white pillow I had left, and put it to my mouth and screamed.

 I screamed long and hard, feeling something inside me break. I don't know how long my next scream was stuck in my throat, all the time crammed into one big pile. It might have been ten minutes it might have been three hours. It didn't matter. Even with my voice broken, I wheezed into the pillow until I was completely exhausted.

My heart was beating at an incredibly fast pace, and my throat ached unbearably, as did my head. I finally got out of bed and went to the window. The sun was already setting over the horizon, which meant I'd cried all day.

 I started rummaging through my desk drawers to find something where I could look at my reflection. To my great delight, I found a large gilded mirror in one of them that was studded with red stones. It looked like this clan had plenty of money.

 I looked into my reflection and was horrified. My hair was a mess, my eyes were swollen and red, and so was my nose.

 - Horrible... - I put the mirror back down - And my dress is also bloody.... I look like a ragamuffin....

“A ragamuffin...” - I echoed in my mind.

 A plan instantly formed in my head. I grabbed one of the pens and used it to make a bundle on my head.  With a sigh of encouragement, I wiped the remnants of tears from my cheeks, grabbed the first dress I could find, and began to create.

 I finished when it was well past midnight. Placing the mirror on the table, I stepped away and admired my dress that I had altered to spite Ambressa. I knew it was unimaginably expensive, but it made me feel a little better about what I'd done to it.

I left the corset almost untouched, but I cut off the sleeves, leaving only the wide shoulder straps. I cut the jewels off the fabric and used the vine to attach them to the corset, in the form of blood splatters.

 The most interesting thing I did was with the layers of the skirt. Most of them, of course, I just cut off, and the rest I cut into scraps of different lengths. It looked very beautiful, though quite inappropriate for a girl of my level and status.

 I twirled around the mirror and fixed my hair, which had already been styled by magic. I smiled at my reflection. My mood had lifted after my recent tantrum.

 I was good for letting those emotions out, but I shouldn't cry anymore, it wouldn't help my grief.

 Removing the vine from the door, I walked out into the hallway. There I saw a young boy standing by my door. He didn't react to my appearance.

-Good evening- -I put my hand over my heart and nodded my head slightly, saying hello out of the politeness that had been instilled in me. - Can you tell me where the exit to the deck is?

 The warrior answered me nothing, didn't even look at me. I furrowed my eyebrows and, squaring my shoulders, walked in the direction from which I had come here.

- If you make any movement on the ship, it is your responsibility to alert Mistress Medarda and get her permission.

- I thought you were dumb-I continued to walk quietly down the corridor, feeling the damp boards beneath my bare feet. - I don't owe anyone anything, boy.

I looked over my shoulder and saw him striding in the opposite direction from me. It looked like he was going to report back. Chuckling to myself, I kept walking.

[ara-arachan]

Honestly, I really don't like when people call Reigen "just a regular guy". Because he isn't that regular at all. Well, to me, at least.

He's extremely social, he has a lot of skills, he's smart, he's creative, he's kind. He always knows how to solve problems. He listens to people, and, most importantly, he helps them. He's wise, he's realistic, he's funny, he's open-minded, and he's scared but he often takes the risks. For himself, for Mob, and for everyone else. Also, yes, he loves his student and is ready to put himself in danger just to save him (friendly reminder that he was ready to die during the Confession arc, and even took his shoes off, which is very common for Japanese people to do before committing suicide). I really don't think your typical regular guy would do that.

Maybe he seems like he isn't special because of his lack of psychic powers, but isn't it quite unusual that he doesn't even want any to begin with? Reigen was never jealous of Mob or any other ESPer, even though, logically, he should be since it's very useful for his business. Yet he isn't. When Mob shared powers with him, Reigen didn't really care. He acknowledged these were Mob's instead of thinking that he suddenly got awakened, then kicked villains' asses, and that's it. Never even mentioned any of that after (if we exclude the book situation).

It's very fascinating how Mob, the most powerful (modern) psychic, lives a regular life, while Reigen, someone who doesn't possess any type of powers at all, is seen as someone eccentric. And, well, of course Reigen does have common adult problems, but it's the way he deals with them what makes him different. Or so I think.

No matter what your opinion on Reigen is, it's out of the question that his relationships with Mob are absolutely beautiful. Both of them complement each other perfectly, two lonely souls finding solace in one another, rejected — though temporarily — by society just to have peace in the inner worlds: Mob in Reigen's, and Reigen in Mob's.

[nightlyrequiem]

Hi I was the one who requested Valeria and the reader being split, though I don't exactly remember what I wrote in the request, I think it was about how despite not being with Valeria anymore they still got an allowance and got to keep the mansion Valeria bought for them when they were together as well as constantly having protection. That's all I can remember

Yes, sorry for losing the first one... oh to be Valeria's spoiled ex wife... what a life that would be. If she were real she probably wouldn't be the type to do this but a girl can dream

Tags/Warnings: WLW, Ex-Lovers, Fluff (sort of?)

Spoils of Love

Hot water gently splashes as you shift into a different position. Warm candlelight twinkles off the shiny porcelain of your contemporary bathtub. A few bubbles making it over the side and soaking into the little bath rug placed by the edge. Your laptop is perched precariously on the edge. Your favourite show playing. You reach over and grab a piece of pineapple and plop it in your mouth. Savoring the flavour.

You have the curtains parted. Giving you a beautiful view of the city lights through your floor to ceiling windows miles away from your home. On the shelves of your luxurious bathroom are fresh towels and decorative glass ducks. A harsh knock disrupts your peace, and you frown. Pausing your show.

"What?" You call out, annoyed.

"Sorry. You've been in there for a while, I'm just making sure you're alive." A male voice calls out. "Valeria would have my head if something happened to you."

"I'm alive." You say dryly. Unpausing your show.

You were a little surprised when Valeria insisted that she still take care of you despite the both of you no longer being a couple. You suspect that she's hoping you'll change your mind. Well, living in a small villa and never needing to work is definitely the route to take. However, she also insists you have guards. If having strange men in your home is the price of getting to sit in a luxuriously hot bubble bath eating fruit, then so be it.

You did love Valeria. But being with her was... hard. Controlling, selfish, borderline emotionally unavailable. It's only when you started pulling away did she try to pull you back in. She was, unfortunately, too late. You slide deeper into the bath. The hot water envelopes your bare body in a soothing embrace. 

After the bath you drain the tub and get out. Lathering your skin in nice smelling lotion. taking the time to massage it into your skin because you really do have all the time in the world. You redress in a feathered robe and walk out into the hall. The floors are freshly cleaned by the cleaner Valeria pays for. The wood feels cool on your feet so you stick to the decorative carpets. You open the large door to your room and shut it behind you. breathing in the fresh air from the open window.

The warm lamps illuminate the space with a cozy glow. Shining off of the gold trim of your furniture. You set your laptop down and lay down in bed. Resting your head on the soft downy goose feather pillows. You start to fall asleep when the shrill ringing of your phone disturbs you. You groan with annoyance and check to see who's calling.

It's Valeria. She rarely calls.

"Hello?" You sigh, answering the call.

"How was your bath?" She asks.

You frown. "How did you know I was taking a bath?"

"Your guards told me."

You scowl. So much for privacy. "I don't want them around." You tell her. 

Valeria hums in response and you hear something squeak as she moves. "I can get rid of them for you." She says.

You sigh.

"If?" You ask dryly, because it's never something for nothing with Valeria.

"If you let me come over." 

You laugh and shake your head. "Not happening."

"Then you're keeping the guards. For your own safety." Valeria says simply.  You frown. You do want them gone though.

"I like my privacy, Val." 

"I know you do." She coos. You roll over and bring the blankets up over your body. "You can have that if you let me come over and cook dinner for you sometime."

You consider it. Valeria is a good cook. You do miss her food. But you know that if you give her that small opening, she'll use it to weasel her way back into your life and you don't know if that's what you want.

Like she can sense your trepidation, she speaks. "Nothing sexual has to happen, I just want to cook for you one last time." She says softly. Despite her harsh exterior (and interior), she's always been smitten with you. 

You look over at your closet full of nice clothes, your shelves full of trinkets. The least you could do is let her feed you, you suppose. 

"Fine." You relent. "Come over tomorrow, but I want the guards gone tonight."

"Done." Valeria says, a smile in her words. "I'll give them a call."

You know in your heart this is a bad idea. You tell yourself you won't let her back into your life, but something else tells you you're mistaken. Dinner will only be the catalyst.

[weewookinard]

👶👶👶👶 please 🥺🥺🥺🥺

Hi friend 💖💖 felt inspired today so here we go! This is right after what i wrote here and it's a little bit angsty (no lol it's full angst sorry) but i hope you'll like it anyway!!

Tommy hates himself for feeling this distress that torpedoes his soul. He should be happy, damn it, he should be jumping for joy. Call Abby and tell her that life is beautiful and that he's finally found peace. Climbing to the top of the world and shouting his love for Evan Buckley. Instead he feels guilty, guilty for being terrified. For the first time in decades, Tommy is in love. A love so strong, so vivid it's sometimes disturbing. A love so devastating, a love so beautiful. A love that turns him back into the dreamy teenager he once was, that makes him feel like he's living in one of those movies he loves. A love that makes him believe that the fairy tales were right, that they can live happily ever after too. But he's no longer allowed to believe in fairy tales, not since a princess has come to depend on him. He stopped being the hero of the story a long time ago, leaving his place to his daughter. It's her happiness that matters, and to want anything else would be selfish. Loving Evan, giving him so much room in his heart is selfish. A heart that should be reserved for Tammy. A heart that no longer belongs to him.

sorryyyyyyy 🥲

Make me write more here ✍️

Or

Start this story from chapter one 👶