#i want an up close shot of those flowers

[fashionsfromhistory]

I LOVE what Jaden has going on! Proof that menswear can be fun! I'm not crazy about the bottom half, but I love the delicate flowers vs the bold black lines.

Willow is on her way to the funeral of her rich husband that died a mysterious death. Respect.

[odinsblog]

“I first started noticing the journalists dying on Instagram. I'm a journalist, I'm Arab, and I've reported on war. A big part of my community is other Arab journalists who do the same thing.

And when someone dies, news travels fast. Recently, I pulled up the list that the Committee to Protect Journalists has been keeping and looked at it for the first time. There are 95 journalists and media workers on it as of today.

Almost everyone on it is Palestinian. Scrolling through, I started to get angry. These were the people carrying the burden of documenting this whole war.

Israel is not allowing foreign journalists into Gaza, except on rare occasions with military escorts. These people's names are being buried in a giant list that keeps growing. What I want to do is lift some of them off the list for a moment and give you a glimpse of who they were and the work they made.

I'll start with Sadi Mansour. Sadi was the director of Al-Quds News Network, and he posted a 22-second video on November 18. That was a report from the war, but it also gave me a picture into his marriage.

Sadi's wearing his press vest and looks exhausted. He's explaining that cell service and the Internet keep getting cut off, and it's often impossible to text or call anyone, including his wife. So they've resorted to using handwritten letters to communicate while he's out reporting, sending them back and forth with neighbors or colleagues.

He ends the video with a picture of one of these letters from his wife. In it, she writes,

‘Me and the kids stayed up waiting for you until the morning, and you didn't come home. We were really sad.

I kept telling the kids, Look, he's coming. But you didn't show up. May God forgive you.

Come home tomorrow and eat with us. Do you want me to make you kebab or maybe kapse? Bring your friends with you, it's okay.

And give Azeez the battery to charge. What do you think about me sending you handwritten letters with messenger pigeons from now on? Ha ha ha.

I'm just kidding. I want to curse at you, but we're living in a war. Too bad.

Okay, I love you. Bye.’

A few hours after he shared that letter, Sadie and his co-worker Hassouna Saleem were at Sadie's home, when they were killed by an Israeli air strike that hit his house.

His wife and kids, who weren't there, survived.

Gaza is tiny, and the journalist community is really close. Reading the list, you can see all the connections between people. Like with Brahim Lafi.

Brahim was a photojournalist, one of the first journalists to die. He was killed while reporting on October 7. He was just 21, still new to journalism.

On his Instagram, you can see that in his posts just a few years ago, he was still practicing his photography, taking pictures of coffee cups and flowers. Then he started doing beautiful portraits and action shots. You can really feel him starting to become a journalist.

Clicking around on Instagram, I found a tribute post about Brahim from his co-worker Rushdie Sarraj. In this photo, Brahim staring intently at the back of a camera, his face lit up by the light from the viewfinder. He looks so young.

The caption reads, My assistant is gone. Brahim is gone. Rushdie himself was a beloved journalist and filmmaker.

And I know that because he's also on the list. He was killed just two weeks after Brahim. I read the tribute post to him too.

I saw this over and over again. Journalists posting tributes, who were then killed themselves soon after. And a tribute goes up for them.

And then the pattern continues.

Thank you.

Something else I saw over and over on the list, journalists later in the war who had become aware that they could be making their last reports. They'd say it at the beginning of their videos. And those were the hardest to watch, especially when it was true.

One video like that was posted by Ayat Hadduro. Ayat was a freelance journalist and video blogger. Her videos before the war covered a wide range from what I can tell, interviews about women in politics.

She even appeared in a commercial for ketchup-flavored chips. She clearly liked being in front of the camera. Once the war started, Ayat's pivoted to covering bombings and food shortages.

On November 20, she posted a video report from her home. You can hear the airstrikes hitting very close to where she is. It's scary.

‘This is likely my last video. Today, the occupation forces dropped phosphorus bombs on Beit Lahya area and frightening sound bombs. They dropped letters from the sky, ordering everyone to evacuate.

Everyone ran into the streets in the craziest way. No one knows where to go.

But everyone else has evacuated. They don't know where they're going. The situation is so scary.

What's happening is so tough, and may God have mercy on us.’

She was killed later that day.

Targeting journalists, in case you didn't know, is a war crime. So far, the Committee to Protect Journalists has found that three of the journalists on the list were explicitly targeted by the IDF, the Israeli military. Investigations by the Washington Post and Reuters, Human Rights Watch and the United Nations have also raised serious questions in these three cases.

And the Committee to Protect Journalists is investigating 10 other killings. When we reached out to the IDF for comments, they said, quote, the IDF has never, and will never, deliberately target journalists. That's the answer they always give in these situations.

Meanwhile, dozens of seasoned reporters have fled Gaza. Journalists who worked for Al Jazeera, the BBC, the New York Times, the Washington Post, Reuters, Agence France-Presse. So many media offices were demolished in Israeli airstrikes that the Committee to Protect Journalists stopped counting.

It's not just individual lives that have been destroyed. It's an entire infrastructure.

Thank you.

The name on the list that was hardest for me to look at was Issam Abdullah, because I'd crossed paths with him once. Issam was a Lebanese journalist, a video journalist for Reuters for many, many years. He had just won an award for coverage of Ukraine.

I'm Lebanese and still report there sometimes, and I'd worked with Issam a couple of summers ago. He helped me film a sort of random story in Beirut. I was interviewing this entrepreneur who had started a sperm freezing company after an accident where he spilled a tray of hot coffee on his private area, burning himself.

I know, ridiculous. It was a really silly shoot. Right after we said cut and started to rap, Issam started this whole bit about being in his late 30s, reconsidering his own sperm quality and everything he now realized he was doing to hurt it, and no one could stop laughing.

It was a really good day that felt good to remember and to remember him that way. Issam was killed by the IDF on October 13. His death was one of the three that the Committee to Protect Journalists has identified as a targeted killing.

He was fired upon by an Israeli tank while standing in an empty field on the Lebanon-Israel border with a small group of other journalists. Everyone was wearing press vests with cameras out. They were covering the Hezbollah part of this war.

A few other journalists were injured in the attack, which was captured on video. The IDF says they were responding to firing from Hezbollah, not targeting the journalists. But multiple investigations, including by Reuters, the United Nations, Amnesty International and the AFP, found no evidence of any firing from the location of the journalists before the IDF shot at them.

The journalists in the group and video footage confirmed that there was no military activity near them. I had only met Issam once, barely knew him, but it affected me so much when he died. I know that he understood the risks of his job, but somehow it still felt so random and unfair that he would be struck down like that, following the rules, wearing his press vest and helmet, and a pack of reporters on a sunny day in an open field.

I find myself thinking about him all the time. His last Instagram post was commemorating another journalist, this iconic reporter Shereen Abou Aql who had been killed by the IDF. When I first saw that post in October, I thought how ironic because a week later, Isam also was killed by the IDF.

But then, after spending time reading the list, I realized how common this had become. I still haven't finished going through the list and looking up the people on it. I keep finding things that stick with me, like the funny way this one radio host would cut off a caller who was rambling on for too long.

A tweet from reporter Al-Abdallah that quoted Sylvia Plath. It read, What ceremony of wars can patch the havoc? I'm going to keep going down the list, even though this story is over now.

Just for myself. My own way of bearing witness. Which is, in the end, all that these journalists were trying to do.”

—DANA BALLOUT, The 95. Dana sifts through a very long list—the list of journalists killed in the Israel-Hamas war, and comes back with five small fragments of the lives of the people on it. Dana is a Lebanese-American, Emmy-nominated documentary producer.

[lynxgriffin]

Eldritchrune - Dreemurr of Sacrifice

1 | 2 | 3

Story Setup Eldritchrune Masterpost

Back in the light world, Asgore is still dealing with the heartache of the sacrifice, even months later. Mayor Holiday is still set on moving ahead, though!

Yay, it's nice to finally get back to some light world characters here! More with the Dreemurr family will be coming along soon!

Alt text for these pages under the read more:

Page 1 Panel 1: a landscape shot of the Holiday house and surrounding garden, with Rudy and Asgore outside the fence and hollybush hedge. The Delta Rune is emblazoned over the door and spiky snowflakes decorate the roof and fence.  Asgore is walking by with a wheelbarrow. Rudy: “Asgore, you old goat! Been way too long!” 

Panel 2: A closer shot of the two men- Rudy is slim and dressed in a crisp tunic, Asgore larger and wearing slouchy overalls. Asgore: “Howdy Rudy. You’re looking well!” Rudy, hand on his knee, bends over to hack and cough. Rudy: “Oh y’know… well enough, I guess! How’s business?” 

Panel 3: Asgore looks down,ruefully scratching the back of his head. His wheelbarrow is full of droopy plants, ready for planting. “Could be better… Those soldiers hassle me almost daily. But, I’ve gotten used to it, so it’s all right.” 

Panel 4: Rudy puts a comforting hand on Asgore’s shoulder. “Aww hey, you can complain to me any time…” he says. Asgore doesn’t avoid the touch but he doesn’t seem comforted. 

Page 2 Panel 1: close up on Rudy, who jerks his head to look as far behind him the door of the Holiday house opens to show the silhouette of a woman in a long dress. 

Panel 2: Rudy: “But uhh, I’ll let Carol here say her piece first. See you, Asgore!” He waves and pushes the gate open to go back to the house. Asgore looks taken aback. 

Panel 3: A textless landscape shot of the front of the yard. Rudy, halfway back to the house, turns to look behind him as Carol comes out of the large Holiday gate to meet Asgore, who is hunched in a half-bow with his hand over his heart. 

Panel 4: Asgore: “Howdy, Mayor Holiday.” He doesn’t look up at her, and we see only the back of her head, not her face. Carol: “Good day, Asgore. I appreciate you stopping by, as I wanted to inform you personally.” 

Panel 5: Carol leans into Asgore’s space, and he leans away, cowed. Neither of their eyes are visible, but we see their mouths: hers stern, his distressed. Carol: “We will be conducting the Ritual again in three month’s time, at the harvest moon. You and Toriel’s presence is required.”

Panel 6: Bust shot of Asgore, dismayed. “A…Again? You’ve… found another one?” His hand is still protectively over his heart. 

Page 3:  Panel 1: We see Carol’s face for the first time: she is severe looking, with medium length hair, a stiff dress, and a choker necklace and ornate belt. Her hand is also over her heart, though more like a formal salute. “I have tasked QC with obtaining the child.” 

Panel 2: Carol’s speech bubble continues as narration. “She’s been quite diligent in her duties, and believes we now have one open to the concept of self sacrifice.” The scene shown is QC- a friendly, soft woman with wildly curly hair- appearing to be at a street market. She is speaking to a child with a bandana neck scarf (Clover, from UT Yellow), but there’s no dialogue. 

Panel 3: Another shot of Carol in profile, gaze fixed intensely ahead. “With the Ritual rites already perfected, this time we will be successful.” 

Panel 4: A wide shot of Asgore, hunched over his wheelbarrow of wilty plant starts and flowers. There’s no dialogue. His expression is despondent. 

Panel 5: Carol: “Is there something you’re withholding, Asgore?” Asgore: “No. We’ll be there.” We don’t see his expression. Her hands are folded sternly in front of her. 

Panel 6: She moves once again into his space, pushing past the wheelbarrow to lean in. “I know that you two have been avoiding us in public since the last Ritual.”  Asgore cringes away like a dog that’s been scolded. 

Page 4: Panel 1: Carol continues. “Toriel has hardly spoken a word to me since then. I trust there is an explanation?” 

Panel 2: Asgore wrings his hands in front of him. His speech bubble covers up his eyes, but his mouth is downturned. “Carol… Toriel avoids you so much because she respects you. She does not want a confrontation.”

Panel 3: Carol, her expression still severe, almost angry. “A confrontation?” 

Panel 4: Asgore, still cringing and looking down: “I don’t know.. if I can explain just how badly losing Kris hurt.” 

Panel 5: His narration continues from the previous panel. “She’d be so cross if I knew I said this, but…” We see the past, Toriel kneeling and clutching the blankets of an empty bed, crying hard. Asgore kneels beside her, holding her shoulders. He’s crying too, unable to comfort her. “The night of the sacrifice, when we got home… Toriel collapsed and wept so long and hard I was afraid her heart would simply stop.” 

Panel 6: Sill the past with present Asgore’s narration over the top. “And then, once Asriel left too… Both of our children were gone.” Left to right, in the interior of the Dreemur’s house, Asgore stands dismayed as an unhappy Toriel rushes after Asriel, who is walking out the door with a bag on his shoulder. He’s looking back but is clearly set on leaving. 

Page 5 Panel 1: Back in the present, Asgore is even more hunched in on himself, hugging his fists to his chest with his expression drawn tight and sad. “I know Toriel acts as though she is fine, but that’s simply because she is stronger than I am. The tension between us is so terrible that I’m afraid she’d leave me if she had somewhere to go!” 

Panel 2: Close on his distressed, panicky face, looking away from the confrontation. “And part of me can’t help wondering… w-what if we were…”

Panel 3: Carol jabs a finger in Asgore’s face. “We. WILL. Be rewarded for our sacrifices. Of this I am CERTAIN.” She’s stern, but her fists aren’t clenched- she’s controlled. Asgore shrinks under her words, looking up at her as he stammers “I-I know, but…”

Panel 4: Carol’s speech: “You talk of heartache. Kris was not even your child by blood.” Asgore looks down, ashamed. 

Panel 5: Carol continues, hand splayed over her chest. For the first time her expression is something other than stern, perhaps angry- still that, but pained. “Do you think your pain is greater than the one I feel, for December? Whom I gave away first?” 

Panel 6: Asgore plucks at his sleeve, looking away guiltily. “No, of course not-” 

Page 6 Panel 1: Carol’s brief moment of any other emotion is gone. She sweeps her arm to the side. “And yet I have put aside my grief for years, all for the sake of you, and everyone else, in this town. I will do whatever it takes to drive this invader from our doors, and restore this town to the peace it once had.” 

Panel 2: Carol’s face is almost a snarl. “All I require is that you, my oldest friends, trust me.” Asgore looks abashed. 

Panel 3: Close on Asgore’s downturned mouth, so none of the rest of his expression is visible. “Of course. Of course we do.” 

Panel 4: Carol draws away, her face returned to calm sternness. “That’s good to hear. Our children don’t need our tears.” 

Panel 5: Carol turns to go back into her gate, dismissing Asgore with a wave. “But our town does need our efforts.”  Asgore watches her go, putting his hands back to his wheelbarrow. 

Page 7 Panel 1: Another wide shot of the Holiday house and gardens, with Carol walking back to the house and Asgore outside the gate. Carol: “So I’ll see you both at the next gathering.” 

Panel 2: Asgore looks down at his wheelbarrow, despondently. His plants are all notably wilted. “Good day, Mayor.” The sky behind him darkens. 

[m0chaminx]

Coriolanus Snow | Roses Grow Thorns

*•.¸♡Request: Pls pls pls do a part 2 too the snow x reader fix it was so amazing and I want more of them 🙏🙏🙏🙏‼️‼️🩷

*•.¸♡Prompts: none

*•.¸♡Warnings: Coriolanus, Cori isn't insane (ish), Snow is slight ooc, jealousy, hurt comfort, fluff ending

*•.¸♡Paring: Coriolanus Snow x F!reader

*•.¸♡Summary: Coriolanus learns his favourite flower grows thorns

Or

You confront Coriolanus about his relationship with Lucy Gray

*•.¸♡Words: 2k

Part 1

People danced, swaying with their partners in a circle as you stood on stage, strumming your guitar and singing to the crowd. Lucy had just finished the first half of her set, so you took the stage to fill the silence. Coriolanus sat with Sejanus at a table across the room, large glasses of some sort of liquor. Coriolanus looked up at you and smiled.

If you like your coffee hot

Let me be your coffee pot

You call the shots, babe

I just wanna be yours

Your voice trailed off slightly as Lucy raced to Coriolanus and Sejanus, throwing her arm around his shoulder and leaning between them. You shook your head and continued to play, trying to ignore Lucy Gray practically hanging from Coriolanus’s arm.

Jealousy, an unwelcome guest, clawed at the edges of your heart, leaving an ache in your chest. No words had been exchanged, and no actions had passed between you two. It overtook the corners of your mind, urging you to believe that Lucy Gray should sense the unspoken connection threading its way between you and Coriolanus.

Each shared trip to the lake, every stolen moment when Coriolanus chose to spend his fleeting free hours with you — these fragments of time saved in your mind like photos in an old book. Yet, as you observed Lucy Gray standing there, a vision of radiant smiles and hushed confidences exchanged with Coriolanus, a wave of emotion surged. It was as if the world momentarily lost its colour, and the whispers of uncertainty left an indelible mark on your heart.

You clenched your hand, trying to ease the shaking in your hands.

Secrets I have held in my heart

Are harder to hide than I thought

Maybe I just wanna be yours

Every night for the past week following that evening, Coriolanus Snow would tap gently on the glass of your window. You would turn your head and he would smile, the same bright smile that made your stomach flip and fill with butterflies. You crept across the wood floors and opened the window, looking down at the blue-eyed boy. “Are you busy?”

You would simply laugh at him. You grabbed your coat and slipped out the window, Coriolanus gripping your waist to help you down properly. He would smile, slip a scarf under the window to close it without locking it and you would slip away unnoticed, descending into the velvety embrace of the night.

In those quiet moments, Coriolanus would slip your hand in his own, his warm hand covering yours as he laced your fingers together. He guided you through the dense labyrinth of woods, you knew these woods better than he did but through the nights as he led you to the lake, you questioned if you ever knew them at all. 

The Mokingjays sang into the night as if calling to the small fireflies to light the way. “I brought matches,” Cori said, looking back at you. He tugged on your hand bringing you closer and you couldn't help but think about Lucy Gray running her hand along his shoulders. “We can light a fire. Maybe catch some fish.” You nodded and Coriolanus smiled.

You reached the lake and Coriolanus set his bag down, quickly gathering everything to start a fire. You walked to the edge of the water, your mind running faster than you could even start to comprehend. “Think we’ll catch anything?” He asked, stopping to look up at you.

You looked back over the water, looking at the fish no bigger than your palm swimming just above the sea floor. You shook your head, keeping your eyes on the moonlight dancing on the waves of the water. “Nothing big enough to eat,” You said. Coriolanus nodded and turned back to the fire.

Once the fire was made you sat on the ground beside him, leaving enough space so your shoulders didn’t touch. You both sat in silence, Coriolanus’s knee bouncing softly. 

The flames danced and flickered, the golden glow flickering in Coriolanus’s blue eyes, you settled onto the ground beside him. You shifted slightly, making sure your shoulders didn't touch. The silence stretched between you, Coriolanus's fingers drumming against a stick he held in nervousness.

Coriolanus's knee bounced softly, mirroring the unsteady rhythm of both your hearts. The mere inches that separated you felt like an unbridgeable chasm, as long and confusing as his thoughts. “Did I do something?” His voice cut through the silence like a knife and you turned towards him, your eyebrows furrowed. “You seem distracted. You’re not talking like you usually do. You’re sitting far away.” You bit your lip and shrugged softly. “What’s wrong?”

“What did I sing tonight?” You turned to face Coriolanus. “Tonight. I sang, I wore the red dress so everyone could see the white rose you gave me. But what did I sing?” Coriolanus stammered. “You don’t spare a second glance at me during our shows, you talk to Sejanus when I do perform and you let Lucy Gray hang off your arm like she was yours.”

He spoke your name softly, trying to shuffle closer but you stood quickly. “Don’t do that Cori,” You pleaded. “I’m gonna go home, I’ll see you later.” You turned on your heel. Making your way back through the woods.

Coriolanus sighed, dropping his head into his hands as you walked from his view.

The next morning you stared at the ceiling, stretched out on your small bed. You twisted a small rose between your fingers, the thrones pricking your skin occasionally. The knock at the window made you jump. You turned your head to look at Coriolanus standing on the other side, smiling ever so slightly. You sighed and set the rose aside before walking to the window and pulling it open. “Corio-”

“Don’t talk,” he said quickly. “Don’t say anything, just follow me.” 

“Cori-”

“What did I just say?”

A frustrated huff escaped you as you forcefully closed the window, shutting out the annoying sounds of crickets. Pulling the blinds closed with a swift motion covering Coriolanus’s face, but you caught his smile dropping. You donned your jacket and stepped out the front door, stopping in front of Coriolanus just as you turned the corner. He extended his hand, a warm smile playing on his lips. Suppressing the annoyance that still simmered beneath the surface, you offered a muted response, "Just lead the way," your words carrying a hint of resignation.

Coriolanus nodded and started to lead you through the woods, the sun still yet to rise properly. “You sang I Wanna Be Yours,” Coriolanus muttered. “No, I didn't ask Lucy Gray. You wrote it after you met your old girlfriend but you haven't sung it since. That’s why it was so important to you. And why you wanted me to remember it.”

You hummed and tried to hide your smile. “So you were paying attention.”

Coriolanus spoke, low and earnest, his gaze fixed on you. "I always pay attention," he assured, a sincerity etched into his words. The weight of his gaze, coupled with the firmness in his tone, sought to reassure you. "And nothing is happening between Lucy Gray and me. She was helping me with something," he explained, his words carrying the weight of truth and an unspoken plea for understanding.

“Which is?”

Coryo smiled, “Keep following me.”

You followed Coriolanus, walking in silence until the sun rose completely. He stopped at a rock wall, a small dirt trail winding around it. He reached out, slipping his hand into yours and leading you down the track. “Roses don’t grow in 12, the ground is too hard,” Coriolanus started. “Lucy Gray told me just beyond the rock wall there is ground soft enough to grow flowers. Sejanus used his father's money to get some seed and…” Coriolanus stepped aside as you reached the bottom of the track.

You smiled, Coriolanus’s hand slipping from yours as you stepped further into the growing rose field. Dozens of rose bushes had started to grow, small red and white flowers sporting. Small raindrops covered the flowers, the sun reflecting off of them like diamonds. You crouched, smiling as you ran your hand along the rose petals. 

A soft smile played on your lips, and Coriolanus's hand tenderly released yours as you ventured deeper into the growing rose field. Rows of rose bushes, adorned with tiny red and white blossoms, unfold before you, blossoming like a garden from the Capitol. Small raindrops adorned the delicate petals, capturing the sunlight in a dance that shined like diamonds. Your heart swelled. You glanced back at Coriolanus who shared the same smile.

You carefully crouched down, your smile growing as you traced the velvet texture of the rose petals with your fingertips, each delicate touch slow and careful as if the rose would fall apart. Coriolanus smiled as he watched you, his stomach filling with butterflies as he waited for you to speak. 

"Wait..." The urgency in your voice sliced through the air as you stood, swiftly pivoting to face Coriolanus. His smile disappeared, replaced by a stark seriousness mirrored in your eyes. Your heart fell to your stomach as your voice shook, "You said Sejanus got the seeds from his father. If the Peacemakers find out, they'll take you away." The gravity of your words hung heavily in the charged atmosphere. “Cori, they’ll take you to the hanging tree-”

“They won’t,” Coriolanus said quickly. He stepped forward holding your face in his hands, his thumb tracing the lines of your cheekbones. “No one is going to take me away. No one is taking you. Or Sejanus, or Lucy Gray.” You raised your hand, settling it on top of his. “This place is ours, yours and mine. No one is going to take that.”

Yours and mine.

You smiled, laughing softly as you looked up at Coriolanus, his blue eyes meeting yours. “You got me roses?” You asked.

“You said you liked the Capitol flowers more,” Coriolanus remembered. “I can’t exactly take you to the Capitol, so I thought I’d bring the best part of the Capitol here.”

“Besides yourself.”

A warm smile graced his features as he leaned in, closing the distance until his forehead gently met yours. "Do people in the Capitol kiss differently than the districts?" His inquiry, spoken in a hushed tone, carried a hint of curiosity and a touch of playfulness.

“I think…” you leaned up slightly, bumping your nose against his, “you should find out.”

The brush of his fingertips against your jawline, tracing a delicate path along your skin, igniting a shiver that danced down your spine. As he cradled your face, your breath hitched in anticipation, your eyes staring at his chapped pink lips. Drawing you closer, the final shared breath seemed to linger, suspended in the charged atmosphere, before he sealed the connection with a kiss that felt like a spark that lit a fire. Your heart echoed the rhythm of the thousands of times you had dreamed of this moment and your hands instinctively wound around the back of his neck, the embrace pulling him closer.

Your stomach twirled, filling with butterflies as one of Coryo’s hands moved to wrap around your waist and pull you impossibly closer. He pulled away, his breath coming out in small pants, your breath in sync with his. You opened your eyes, looking up at his half-closed eyes tracing over every part of your face. “I love you, Coriolanus Snow.”

He whispered it back.

ﾟ°☆Page navigation

[liettaloveshyperfixating]

daryl x reader headcanons

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

daryl and love languages

words of affirmation:

he praises you for every kill. hunting animals, killing walkers, or killing off people like those at terminus. ex: "atta girl" "nice shot" "pretty badass"

physical touch:

he never knows where to put his hands. you first noticed when hed kiss you and his hands landed on your thighs, turning you on more than the simple act of a kiss was supposed to. you corrected it and now its more natural, like guiding his hands over your waist while cuddling in bed or him knowing he can always wrap his arm around your waist when he wants to feel you close

quality time:

in alexandria you two would always be on the porch together next to a riffle and some drinks

you follow each other around a lot. if you're going on a supply run, he's coming with. if he's tinkering on his bike, you're right there talking his ear off while he gives an "uh huh" every so often to show he's still listening

acts of service:

sometimes he'll see you talking to someone in the group or at alexandria, assume you're annoyed, and tell whoever to get lost. it a 50/50 chance he's gonna look like an ass for it, but he finds it hella rewarding when you were indeed annoyed and he got to help you

gift giving:

glenn once tried giving daryl the relationship advice of giving you flowers. daryl took that suggestion and rolled with it. he picked up weeds from the ground and gave them to you, fully believing they counted as flowers lol

he would compulsivley wanna get you everything he's sees on supply runs

daryl x reader headcanons (last two are nsfw-ish)

he'd be down to marry quick. first off its the apocalypse and secondly he never really pictured himself seriously with someone. he told you that he accidentally called you his wife a couple times in his head and you figured it was probably a safe bet that meant he wanted to get married

always admiring you from afar; carol'd probably comment half jokingly that he looks like a stalker when he's staring at you like that

a headcanon word for word stolen from @dixonzzgirl: you get into an accident on a run and ending up losing a lot of blood and you wake up later in the infirmary. “ya’ lost a lotta blood,” he says. “then i bet you did too…” you smiled groggily knowing that he gave you some of his

he often gets dirty (somewhat intrusive) thoughts about you. he cant stop picturing you in sexual situations and its been off putting for him since hes never had this problem before. it doesnt even have a trigger which makes it all the more off putting

daryl is the type to put you to bed asap after sex. he'd probably put his arm around you while you rest close next to him as he watches tv in the dark of your room. hes a simple man 🤷

[little-diable]

God’s Garden - Priest!Tom Riddle (smut)

A small priest drabble. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader always imagines being touched by Priest Riddle, something he finally does when she confesses her sins.

Warnings: 18+, dubcon, smut, being touched for the first time, virgin!reader, religious setting

Pairing: Priest!Tom Riddle x fem!reader (1.6k words)

“He’s so good looking, isn’t he?” She had her eyes set on him as her friend whispered the words, unable to bite down a giggle. He was indeed good looking, towering over all others like a statue of a godlike figure, drawing all eyes towards him wherever he went.

“Stop it!” (Y/n) tugged on her friend’s wrist with a laugh, not wanting to gain the attention of the tall priest who was now looking at the two young women from afar. She shot him a soft smile before turning from him, knowing that heat was crawling up her body like water rising higher and higher, set on drowning her in the sinful longing she felt.

“Oh god, he’s coming over.” (Y/n)’s eyes snapped towards Priest Riddle’s frame, watching him push through the crowd of people, mumbling words she couldn’t hear. The burning down sun coated him in a soft light, adding an aurora that perfectly contrasted his black suit.

“Afternoon, (y/n), Mandy.” His raspy voice made her clench her thighs, grateful that she was wearing a long dress that hid most parts of her body from his intense gaze. She didn’t hear the words her friend mumbled, leaving (y/n) alone with the tall priest.

“Your mother told me you made those brownies?” He took a step closer as he spoke, letting her take in the scent of his cologne. She struggled to focus on his words, having to scream at herself not to get lost in thoughts God would curse her for.

“I did, Priest Riddle.” Her soft smile left him chuckling. Two necklaces dangled from his neck, a cross and what appeared to be a dark rosary she hadn’t seen him wear so far, drawing her eyes towards them as if they were a swinging pendulum foretelling her future.

„Well, they’re heavenly, sweetheart.“ Priest Riddle‘s hand found her wrist, softly squeezing the warm skin. The touch sent a buzzing sensation down her spine, making goosebumps rise on her arms and neck as if she was freezing. He was a God, a man so powerful and intimidating, she still wondered how she managed to speak a single word to him.

“Thank you, that means a lot coming from you.” Another raspy laugh left him. A sound that reminded her of last night’s wandering thoughts, where she imagined him holding her close, whispering words no man had ever said to her.

“Do you still want me to take your confession tonight?” No longer could she hold eye contact, struck by the nervousness she couldn’t shake. It had been a stupid mistake, asking him to take her sins from her - sins he was the cause of. A foolish mistake to speak those words to him, knowing that she’d have to tell him of the things she imagined him doing to her.

“Oh, I don’t know.” His hand squeezed her wrist again, forcing her eyes back to him. Priest Riddle’s eyes wandered over her features, taking in every spot she always tried to hide.

“I have time, why don’t we do it now? The others are busy anyway.” He didn’t give her a chance to say no. With a smile playing on his lips, that somehow had a sinister touch to it, he pulled (y/n) from the church gathering, and towards another part of the big garden.

“Aren’t we doing it in the confessional?” It took him a moment to reply as he led her towards a bench that was surrounded by tall growing flowers. No longer could she see the others, hidden from curious eyes and nosy ears that tried to take in everything people spoke in the church.

“Why a confessional when we are surrounded by God’s finest creations. So, speak to me, (y/n). What lies heavy on your heart?” Her nervousness robbed her of her breath, forcing her eyes to snap down to his hand which was now resting on her knee. Priest Riddle had never touched her like this, he had always kept his distance as if he knew what she was thinking of late at night - a teasing distance she had always cursed. Up until today.

“I, well,” she heavily swallowed, focused on the patterns his thumb was drawing into the fabric of her dress. Heat simmered in (y/n)’s stomach, threatening to spill through her system like sacred wine staining the white cloth covering their altar, leaving stains that may never fade again. “I have sinful thoughts.”

“What kind of thoughts, (y/n)?” She could tell that he was enjoying this, the way she shuffled around on her spot, how she kept staring at his hand, how she had to stop her hand from touching him.

“About being touched.” It was just a whisper, rolling off her tongue before she could stop herself. She was sure that her face was hot, leaving her shaking while his grasp on her knee grew tighter.

“Touched how?” His tongue kissed his teeth before his smile grew wider, dripping with a darkness that left her shaking. He had her trapped, there was no way out of Priest Riddle’s grasp on her body and soul. “Like this?”

His hand wandered up her thigh, softly stroking the fabric while she buried her teeth in her lower lip. (Y/n) could only shake her head, knowing that she would struggle to explain to him how she imagined him touching her, unfamiliar with all these kinds of sensations.

“Take my hand, show me where, (y/n).” Her hand was shaking, trembling while finding his warm, big one. He interlaced his fingers with hers as she let go of a shaky breath. And with her eyes flickering up to his darkening ones, (y/n) brought his hand up her thigh, towards her clothed heat. The raspy chuckle ripping through him made her straighten her spine, wondering what he’d do to her.

“Have you ever been touched before, sweetheart?” (Y/n) once again shook her head.

A soft gasp left her as his fingers pressed against her core, teasing her through the layers of clothing. Her left hand found the edge of the bench, needing to hold onto something, while the other found his wrist. She didn’t move his hand away, only kept holding onto him as if she had to make sure that this wasn’t just a dream.

“You see, (y/n), this is nothing sinful, nothing you need to be ashamed of.” His fingers pressed against her bundle of nerves, making a quiet moan claw through her. Guided by his chuckles and her gasps, he added more pressure to his touch.

“Tell me what you think of, (y/n). What do you feel when you think of being touched?” His voice grew lower, adding a raspy layer she’d never forget about again. With her breath hitched in her chest, she let him spread her thighs further, giving his hand more room to rest between them.

“It makes me crave more, I feel light, loved by you.” It left her before she could stop the word from being spoken out loud. She felt his eyes on her face, drawing her eyes to him to study the sinister smile that grew more dangerous by the second. The words had pushed her into a grave, a grave she had dug for herself and will never be able to crawl out of again.

“You imagine me doing it?” A nod was thrown his way before another moan left her. Her body was tingling, focused on the way he moved his fingers faster, making her panties grow damp. She had never managed to go further than this, pulling her fingers from her panties before she could fall over the edge, scared of what was awaiting her.

But today she wasn’t scared. Today she craved the sensation she had read about many times before. A part of her had hoped that she’d experience the first one with him, a slim chance that had now suddenly turned all too real.

“You know, I think of touching you too, sweetheart. I crave to hear those sweet sounds you make, I wonder how soft your skin will feel beneath my fingers, I touch myself to the thought of fucking you.” The gasp that ripped through her was loud, louder than intended. But Priest Riddle didn’t stop touching her, he only added more pressure, forcing her hand to find his forearm to claw her fingernails into his skin.

She could tell that the high was close, about to claw through her as if the Devil himself was possessing her, leading her straight towards the fiery pits. But she’d take it all, every high and low - if it meant being touched like this by Priest Riddle.

“My sweet girl, there is much I will have to teach you. But you’ll be a good girl for me, won’t you?” The “Yes, Priest Riddle” she sobbed was violent, shaking through (y/n) while her body finally let go.

The sensation was blinding, making spots appear in her vision while his fingers kept moving, lazily circling her pulsing bundle while she rode out her first orgasm. Her body emenated heat, wrapping itself around the two while their minds held onto the sinful act they had just committed. Sins both would confess the next time they found themselves on their knees praying.

“Come by tomorrow evening for your next confession, sweetheart. And don’t forget your rosary.”

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

141 + König Jealousy Headcannons

Based on a request from anon- I suck and somehow posted my drafted one yet again☹️

Warnings: sexual references, mild angst

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Simon Ghost Riley-

When He Gets Jealous -

While Simon knows he is an attractive man, he still thinks that you can do much better than him

That being said, when you're around your close friends, and seem genuinely happy by their presence, Simon can't help the pit that forms in his stomach

He will get quiet and distant whenever he feels jealous. It's not a common emotion for him, and he doesn't know how to handle it

May honestly go to Johnny for advice about it

It'll take him a while to open up to you at first about his jealousy.

When he does finally come to terms with his jealousy....SCARY...DOG...PRIVELAGE

When You Get Jealous -

Let's be honest, this man is beautiful, so he constantly will have men and women vying for his attention

Simon isn't one for small talk with strangers though, so he often brushes them off politely, much to your amusement

That's not to say however, that you don't still get jealous when a fairly attractive person goes and chats him up

When he notices you get jealous, he'll make it a point to introduce you to the person who's flirting with him

Simon's not the overly affectionate type, but he would certainly make an exception if you were upset enough. He wants you to know he's yours until the end of time.

Doesn't even complain when you jump him the minute you guys get home

König-

When He Gets Jealous -

Like Simon, König isn't very vocal about his jealousy, and he will get fairly quiet

He's still fairly insecure with himself, so when he sees someone he feels is more attractive than he is, he can't help but feel self-conscious

He will subconsciously go above and beyond for you- pulling out your chair, bringing you flowers, opening the car door for you- more than he already does

He doesn't fully understand why you are with him, but he will do whatever he can to keep you

Please reassure this poor man. He loves you so much and doesn't want to lose you

When You Get Jealous -

Poor baby doesn't ever intentionally make you jealous

He tries to be nice to any person who approaches him, and it indirectly makes you jealous

He also doesn't realize when people are flirting with him, he always just thinks they're being nice

Literally will feel SO bad if you're jealous, and will apologize profusely for making you feel bad

Gets adorably flustered if you mark him up. Doesn't know what to do with himself

Say the word, and he will RAVISH you in bed to make you feel better

John Price-

When He Gets Jealous-

This man SCREAMS possessive (not in a toxic way). You are his and his alone

Will stare daggers at anyone who stares at you too long. He will make it known you're his.

Is definitely the type to waltz up to the person you're chatting with, and interrupt the two of you to introduce himself

If the person gets handsy with you? God help that person. Price would kill for you.

9/10 though, the minute his gruff, demanding voice comes out, it scares any possible suitor away from you

Will absolutely take you home and make SURE you know who you belong to ;)

When You Get Jealous-

When you get jealous, John gets pretty cocky about it

Depending on his mood, he may or may not feed into the flirting (just to see you get riled up)

Likes when you come over and make it known he's yours. He finds it cute when you get all fired up

Also finds it cute if you get all pouty about it, he will tease you quite a bit about it

Certainly won't complain if you mark him up once you get home. He'll wear those hickeys with pride

Kyle Gaz Garrick-

When He Gets Jealous-

Kyle doesn't really get jealous, and he hates the feeling of when he is. He never wants you to feel like he doesn't trust you

He may get a bit defensive if a man or woman is trying to shoot their shot with you, but he's confident enough in you and your relationship that he doesn't worry

If he does happen to get jealous, he will definitely get clingy. He'll come up and wrap his arm around you, or press a kiss to your cheek, making your relationship very apparent to the person who's talking to you

When You Get Jealous-

Kyle is very aware if he's being flirted with, or if someone's making a pass at him, and he's always quick to shut it down

Will feel really bad if you do get jealous, and will cuddle you for hours when you get home

He's the type to constantly reassure you of his affections for you. He never wants you to feel like he'd want anyone else but you

He would hesitantly admit that he gets slightly turned on by your jealousy

Johnny Soap MacTavish-

When He Gets Jealous-

Johnny is fairly confident in his good looks, and he trusts you completely, so he doesn't often get jealous

When he does get jealous, it's oftentimes because he's drunk, and you'll honestly have to hold him back so he doesn't hurt someone (or himself)

Will absolutely make a scene. He will make the entire vicinity of wherever you are aware that you're his partner

If he gets jealous when he's not drunk, he trusts you enough to let you handle it on your own, but will 100% step in like the macho man he is to get the person away from you

May or may not cover you head to toe with hickies...the worst has to know you're his

When You Get Jealous-

Johnny finds it hilarious when you get jealous, and will ABSOLUTELY tease you about it

If the two of you get drunk enough, you both like to see who can make the other get the most jealous

When either of you get jealous, it usually ends up resulting in hours between the sheets (not that either of you would complain)

If you get upset about it, though, he'll feel horrible and will smother you with affection once you get home

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[stormhearty]

✨ pairings: Azriel x Reader, former Lucien x Reader

🔮 preview: He had always noticed you — your pain, your anguish. You had seen him too, but you had thought he had always just tolerated you — you were his High Lady’s friend, of course. But when Azriel found out that your suffering had been due to an unfulfilled mating bond with the youngest Vanserra son, he couldn’t ignore your pain. His shadows also couldn’t ignore your pain. You noticed that the Shadowsinger started to grow closer to you, and you to him — but was it nothing but a duty for his High Lady… Or was it due to feelings that were always hidden in the shadows?

📣 trigger warnings: fainting 🔎 rating: PG-13 | 🔏 word count: 6.6k

💜 masterlist + notes: This is a one-shot sequel to the “Nothing But A Curse” Lucien x Reader fic, but it can be read as a standalone! I needed some happy ending for my reader, and some people have wished for a fluff Azriel fic. So why not kill two birds with one stone? Also based on this little gif, just imagine how tender Az is in this fic with how he holds the reader. I do hope you all enjoy this!

A sob wracked your body, your thin form shaking due to the pain, the heels of your palms pressing onto pristine marble. The wind blew through your hair, helping soothe the nauseating feeling that bubbled in your stomach. You pinched your eyes closed as you focused on your breathing.

In and out.

In and out.

You didn’t care what was going around you — didn’t care that the reception was still in full bustle downstairs, didn’t care that you could hear the happy congratulations for the newlywed couple.

Didn’t care that the chance of happiness was ripped away from you.

You let out a shaky breath, your whole body shivering at the action as your stomach finally started to settle and your body wasn’t paralyzed due to your illness and the pain. With languid movements, you moved to attempt to sit on your claves when your body swayed, lightheadedness clouding your mind.

At this point, you didn’t care if you passed out — didn’t care if anyone didn’t find you. All you wanted was to be in peace, to be free from your pain.

But it seemed that wish couldn’t even be granted.

Cool tendrils of darkness wrapped around your middle and up your arms, steading your wavering movement. You allowed those whisps of darkness to ground you, letting out a sigh of relief — those tendrils cooling your heated skin, distracting you from the pain as you bowed your head, pressing your forehead to the cool marble.

“(Y/N)…”

Azriel.

“… I’m sorry you had to see me like this Azriel…” you croaked out, a broken and self-deprecating chuckle escaping your chapped lips.

You were found in such a compromising position that you felt the trickle of humiliation bubbled in your throat. You didn’t know whether to cry or laugh anymore — it didn’t matter anymore.

You had become so broken… so tired, that nothing made sense anymore. You had no idea why you were still on the ground like this, you had no idea why you were still in so much pain, why you still felt like you couldn’t breathe — those damned flowers that filled your lungs depriving you of the luxury of breathing. You didn’t know why you even felt embarrassed anymore… Mor, Feyre, and Rhysand had seen you in similar states — where your illness takes you. And so why would you be humiliated if Azriel sees you?

It didn’t matter anymore.

You didn’t care anymore.

Another mixture of a sob and chuckle escaped your lips as you tried to push your body to a sitting position, only for your arms to give up halfway, your form about to crumble onto the floor. Gentle hands caught your body, your cheek pressed against leathers as your body slumped against Azriel’s.

Your body pinched with pain, a grunt escaping your lips as bright hot flashes of pain burst behind your eyes. Oh, how your body ached — whether it be from being in one position for far too long, or just the echo of pain from your illness, from the unfulfilled mating bond gnawing throughout your body — you couldn’t tell anymore.

You couldn’t care anymore.

Those gentle hands, ones you could feel callouses and scars against your own, gently helped you into a proper sitting position — moving your body to sit on your bottom, your back pressed against the railing. You felt those tendrils of shadow dance against your skin, especially where Azriel’s hands lay — as if the contact between you made them swirl excitedly.

Your mind couldn’t dwell on such a thought, as another shock of pain coursing through your body, a whimper escaping your lips as your back stiffened. You felt that bellow of pain rising in your lungs, the inevitable feeling of nausea, and the taste of flowers building in the back of your throat.

You couldn’t understand why the pain and your illness hadn’t subsided — Lucien was long gone, happily celebrating with his new wife, leaving you behind.

Was it because you were still thinking about it? Was it because his scent was still lingering around you? It was hard to tell — but all you wanted was for it to stop.

Whorls of shadow slithered up your arms and shoulders, frantic in their movements, as if distressed by your pain. They slithered over your eyes, the cool feeling calming the raging ache and pound of the pain that flooded your system. Some others curled around your neck, while others remained swirling up your arms and legs, attempting to distract you.

It worked… slowly, but the pain was still there.

But when those scared hands came up to cup your cheek, the pain melted away and your body slumped against those railings, feeling his other hand gently wrap around your back, pressing against the middle of your back — as if to catch you from completely passing out.

“…Az…” you whispered his name, one that was full of relief and comfort.

There should be millions of things that raced through your head — why did your pain stop, with Azriel’s touch? Why was he so worried about your condition? Why were his shadows so attached to you?

But all you could think about was how the pain… stopped.

Your body ceased and relaxed, your lungs allowing you to breathe, gaining your consciousness back.

Eyes fluttered open, blinking away the dark spots at the corners as you stared up into hazel eyes — ones that were filled with worry, as they stared back at yours.

“…I’m fine…” you slowly comforted him, reaching up with shaking hands as your head lulled back, feeling his fingers slip around your cheek to the back of your neck, holding you gently in his grasp. You pressed your palm against his cheek, feeling his skin cool against your touch.

“…I’ll be fine…” you muttered, the same three words repeating themselves over and over again as if a mantra that you had trained yourself to tell people. You felt darkness creep at the corner of your eyes — and you were unsure if it was his shadows or your subconscious finally giving out on you.

But it didn’t matter, as you felt your body pass out in Azriel’s arms, his voice calling out to you.

“(Y/N)!”

He brought you close, shifting his body weight so he could pull you onto his lap, your body across his own, hazel eyes assessing you. He watched as your breaths evened out — not the staggard, painful gasps you were in moments earlier — but one of calm and serenity. His shadows glided over your skin, assessing you as well, as if they needed confirmation that you were anything but hurt.

Safe, she’s safe, just passed out.

She was in so much pain… so sad, so broken.

Her illness is bad… so bad.

They all repeated, crying out and wailing at how distraught you were not too long ago.

He stared at your face, calloused hands gently shifting your locks away from your face so he could gaze at your features.

Azriel could tell that your sickly complexion had worsened over the past few years. Whatever illness that has taken you, had taken away your radiance, youthfulness, and innocence. And what it had left behind was a shell of your former self — you didn’t smile to your eyes anymore, didn’t laugh with your whole heart… didn’t wear your heart on your sleeve.

You placed walls around your heart — both physical and mental. You never left your room, aside from the occasional family dinner that his High lady had all but begged you to come to. Or when his High Lord had brought you out during Starfall, insisting that you would feel better after the festivities. Or when Mor practically dragged you out of your room, hoping to help her find a good Winter Solstice gift for the family.

Other than when those three pulled you out, you had remained in your room — alone.

He didn’t know anything about your illness. It had remained a secret between those three — not even Cassian or the Archeron sisters knew what illness plagued your mind, soul, and heart. When he had asked his High Lord once, Azriel watched those violet hues darken — a protective nature radiated from Rhysand at the question about your illness.

“You will not ask about her illness ever again… All you have to know is that (Y/N) is unwell… We are doing our best to care for her.”

Was the answer that Azriel got from the High Lord. Even his High Lady shook her head lightly, begging him to think nothing of it.

He couldn’t understand why they had to protect the truth from him, he was worried for your health, for your safety. He watched day in, and day out how this unknown illness had taken away your beauty — both inside and out. He watched as your ethereal features dull, how your eyes tend to look so far away that Azriel was afraid you’d never return to the present. How you’d look at him and give him that small simper of a smile, one that didn’t shine with happiness.

Azriel watched as you lost yourself in your pain, your anguish.

“Oh (Y/N)… what kind of illness has taken you so deep in the darkness that all you know is pain?” he couldn’t help but whisper, gently caressing your cheek.

“—- A kind of illness that connects two souls in a mating bond but never to have that bond be reciprocated back…”

His shadows fled from your body, slithering away into the shadows, as his back stiffened slightly as he snapped his head over his shoulder to the threshold of the balcony entrance — Feyre.

Hazel hues looked at his High Lady, as those sapphire eyes stared at him with a delicate raise of her brow. Azriel watched those all-knowing eyes shifting from him to the female in his arms, watching them soften — worry and sadness filling those sapphire pools.

“Did she hurt herself when she passed out?”

His mouth felt dry and all he could do was shake his head. Azriel swallowed the lump in his throat, attempting to regain his voice again, “—- I was able to catch her before she fell…”

Feyre’s gaze shifted back to him, “…Why were you here, Azriel? We had specifically stated no one was allowed here…”

He felt his grip on your body tighten slightly, his shadows slithering back out towards their master, wrapping themselves up your legs and arms in a soothing fashion.

“…I was not the one who broke that rule, Feyre,” he stated, keeping his voice as even as possible, even though he felt anger bubble in his chest, “Both Lucien and Elain had entered this room before I did. They had done something before I had come in… When I did, (Y/N) was already hunched over in pain.

“I couldn’t just leave her here to deal with it herself… Am I right?”

The question hung in the air for a moment, hazel eyes staring into his High Lady’s as he watched her contemplate, her head eventually shaking — a sigh of resignation escaping her lips. Feyre glanced back down at your form before she gestured with her hand for Azriel to stand up, “…Bring her back inside, she will get a fever if she stays out there for too long.”

With such a command, Azriel heaved himself onto his feet, carrying you bridal-style back inside the warmed room. His shadow slithered from his feet and locked the door behind him. They glided back across marble floors and up the bed as Azriel laid you down. Both he and Feyre watched as they wrapped themselves around you, Azriel hearing them echo softly on their wishes for you to get better, to wake up from your slumber.

“… She has a disease that kills her from the inside…”

Hazel eyes snapped up to his High Lady, eyes wide as he watched her sit at the edge of the bed, reaching over to hold your hand.

The confession was quiet but still so deafening that he felt the wind knocked from his lungs.

(Y/N)… is dying…??

Azriel looked at Feyre, hoping for her to elaborate more, trying to catch her eye. He watched as a tiny simper of a smile tugged on her lips, her gaze shifting from you to him. He could tell that she was a breath hesitant to tell your story — especially since you were sound asleep, healing from your relapse.

But all he wanted was to help — and Feyre saw that.

Another sigh escaped his High Lady’s lips before she gently caressed your hand, her sapphire hues dimming as she told your story.

“Do you remember the day, when my sisters were doused into the Cauldron? When Lucien and Elain were made into Cauldron-bound mates?”

How could Azriel forget?

That day had been emotionally and physically taxing to everyone — they weren’t able to break the Cauldron from the clutches of Hybern and the Archeron sisters were forcibly drowned in the Cauldron, taking them away from the mortal life and forced into living as immortal fae.

But he also remembered how broken (Y/N)… And no one knew why.

He didn’t know what was going on, even his shadows barely whispered what happened behind the doors of your room. Azriel wanted to help. But how could he? When he barely knew what was going on with you. His High Lord and Lady keeping everything about you a mystery.

Cobalt blue hues stared into sapphire ones as Feyre continued her monologue.

“…We didn’t know until she told us. She had kept it to herself for months until I noticed it,” Feyre whispered, her voice shaking as hands gently gripped your own, “The cauldron blessed Lucien with two mating bonds—-”

Azriel’s eyes widened.

Two mating bonds? For the Vanserra son?

“—-But Lucien only felt the one with Elain… (Y/N)… Has suffered for months from an unfulfilled mating bond. Me and Rhysand had asked everyone in secret — Helion, even Thesan and Kallias, if they knew anything of her illness… And we only found one line:

“A devastating illness that, if a mating bond is not found nor completed, will force flowers to grow inside the person’s body, slowly suffocating them from the inside. They are practically dying without your mate’s love.”

Azriel’s head spun as he tried to piece together what his High Lady had told him.

You were in a mating bond… with Lucien Vanserra, but he had only felt the golden bond with the middle Archeron sister. And because of the mating bond you had with Lucien, an uncomplete mating bond at that, you had been suffering — for months — from a rare disease… that is slowly killing you from the inside.

Azriel felt his fingers dig into the mattress, curling around the soft comforter.

“…And no one bothered to tell that bastard about his bond with her?”

Teary sapphire hues looked at his own and his High Lady shook her head.

“—- She wished for us not to tell him. She said, in her own words—-

“There is no point in telling him. He does not feel it anyway… He is in love with her, his eyes have never left hers.”

The Shadowsinger felt a pang in his chest, the whispered resignation. The fact that you had given up already without even trying.

All Azriel wanted to do was find the Vanserra son and yell at him for not noticing— your pain, the bond… for not noticing you out of all people.

And how dumb the Vanserra son was for not doing so.

Azriel had always noticed you. He had always watched you as you stood at his High Lady’s side, as her best friend and confidant.

How could he not notice you?

“… And you didn’t want to tell your family about her condition because—-”

“—-It was her choice to make. Everything was her choice. We tried Azriel. Myself, Rhysand, and Mor had tried for years to get her to open up, to tell everyone about her deathly illness. But she wanted to remain in silence… to suffer it alone. And we followed her wishes. You cannot lecture me on what I did not do, Azriel… I wanted to help her, I have been trying to help her. But her choices were her’s alone… And all I could do, as her friend and confidant, was to be there for her… To help her with the pain.”

Teeth bit into lower lip as eyes averted Feyre’s and returned to yours. Azriel watched as your chest rose with every breath you took; on how your complexion got better — how your cheeks dusted with a light pink color, blood returning into them; and how your expression was one of tranquil.

Azriel couldn’t bear to see your face contort into something so pained — to one that he had seen earlier. His heart hurt at the sight of you, hunched over in so much pain. If he had to see it again —-

He couldn’t handle it.

“… What can we do?”

From the corner of his eye, he watched as Feyre shook her head.

“… We’ve tried everything. No magic or potion could help her, nothing to stop the illness from killing her. It’s the damned mating bond that is doing this to her.”

“—- What if she—-”

“If you suggest breaking the mating bond, Azriel, then I can assure you we suggested that. Helion advised us not to do so… If she breaks it, she will die right there and then. It has such a strong grip on her soul, that without it, she is nothing…”

Azriel cursed under his breath.

He didn’t like it.

He didn’t like the fact that they were all going to sit around and do nothing, while this damned curse took your life. He wasn’t someone to be so passive — especially when someone’s life was slowly being taken away from them.

Eyes drifted to his shadows, ones that were gently caressing your arms and moving your hair away from your face. He heard their whispers, begging their master to help you — to save you from your pain, anguish… and loneliness.

His brows furrowed — why were his shadows so attached to you? There were moments in the past few years when his shadows and you interacted. Small moments when they would slide away from him, without him knowing, and they’d be wrapped around your leg or arm, laughter tugging from your lips.

Azriel would apologize profusely for those moments, and you would give him a bright smile, shaking your head.

“I like them… They’re not scary at all, they’re sweet..”

It had taken him aback multiple times — people were usually afraid of his shadows, especially those who were unfamiliar with them. And yet, you were unfrighten by the tendrils of darkness.

Every time you and Azriel were in a room, he watched as his shadows zipped through the room to wrap around your legs, earning a laugh from you. He’d look on with something pulling at his chest before it would go away when he summoned his shadows back.

The two of you would make eye contact, you smiled at him before turning away to do whatever you were doing.

As time went on, those moments would become smaller — especially after the Cauldron incident.

And now Azriel knew why.

With one last look towards you and his shadows, Azriel had a set determination in his cobalt hues.

A groan escaped your lips, eyes fluttering open, blinking away the darkness from your vision before you stared up at the ceiling of your room. You didn’t even know what to feel at that moment.

Your mind was just — empty.

You didn’t know whether to be sad or to cry.

Or to be angry at the Mother.

But you didn’t have any energy to do so.

Your illness to every ounce of your being.

And besides, there was no reason to do any of that… You were far too used to your illness taking over you.

“…(Y/N)…”

Your head snapped towards your left, not even realizing someone was in your room. Your hues locked onto cobalt ones.

“…Azriel…” you croaked out, your voice dry.

You attempted to sit up, your body screaming at you from your movement. All you wanted to do was flop back down, to let your bed take you; but when you felt a dip in the bed and gentle hands wrapped around your shoulders, helping you into a sitting position, your head looked up to watch Azriel’s features contort into concentration.

And you couldn’t help but let out a breathless chuckle.

“…I’m guessing Feyre told you…?” you asked him, your breath nothing but a whisper.

You felt his hand stiffen on your shoulder, and you watched as his shadows leave his side, whirling around in slight panic before zipping back onto your side, as if trying to apologize. A small smile tugged on your features as you glanced up at the Shadowsinger, who looked at you with a worried gaze.

“Don't look like that, Az…” you murmured, resting against the headboard with a sigh, eyes fluttering closed, “Everyone is bound to know… I'm not mad at you anyway…”

His hand slipped away from your shoulders, but you could still feel his presence next to you. You felt those tendrils of shadow slither up your arms and legs, gently caressing your skin.

“—- Are you okay…?”

The question hung in the air momentarily, as you tried to figure out what to say for such a heavy question. You debated — whether to tell your usual answer: I’m fine….

Or to tell the truth.

“—-No, I'm not okay…”

The impact of your answer weighs heavily in your chest, the ache of the bond and your heart resonating through your mind and body.

How long has it been since you accepted that you were not okay? How long has it been since the curse-of-a-bond that you've voiced that you were not okay?

Tears lined your eyes and you tried to blink them away. You couldn't cry, not when Azriel was in your room. You could cry in private — like you've always done.

When a tear slipped down your cheek, you reached up to wipe it away but a scarred hand cupped your cheek to wipe it away.

Your eyes locked onto cobalt ones, your breath held in your chest.

“…It's okay, (Y/N)… You can cry with me.”

The dam burst and a sob escaped your lips, your hands coming up to press against your eyelids as you cried.

Cried about the pain.

Cried about your illness.

Cried about the bond.

Cried about everything.

You felt the dip of the bed again, and gentle and warm arms enveloping you in an embrace and all you could do was lean over, resting your head on Azriel’s shoulder as you sobbed for the rest of the night.

“I don't feel like it Az…” you muttered, fingers gripping the skirt of your dress as you stood at the threshold of the gardens.

Eyes glanced up at the bright afternoon skies before they shifted to the fae standing before you, his hand stretched out for the taking.

It had been a few months since Lucien and Elain’s wedding. A few months after Azriel had found you bent over in pain from your cursed illness.

And a few months after Azriel had seemed to weave his way into your life.

Every day, since that day, Azriel had been visiting you in your room — whether to bring your meals, sit in each other’s presence, or, much like today, coax you out of your room.

You had opted to lock yourself in your room since the reception, not wanting to run into the newlywed couple who had decided to stay at the River House for now. You had desperately wished to remain wrapped in your bubble — you didn’t want to hurt anymore.

But it seemed that Azriel wouldn’t let you do that to yourself.

“…You need fresh air, (Y/N)…” he sighed, “You know—-”

“—-I can’t be holed up in my room forever… I know…” you finished the sentence for him, and you watched as a tiny smile tugged on his ethereal features before he schooled into a stern one, moving his hand slightly to indicate for you to take it.

Teeth bit into your lower lip, looking up at him through your lashes, hoping to get away from your daily dose of sunshine, but the look on Azriel’s face said everything — you were not going to get away so easily.

With a resigned sigh you reached over and slipped your hand in his and a soft smile tugged on his lips as he gently tugged you past the threshold of the large doors to the garden, pulling you close to him as he tucked your hand into the crook of his arm, like the gentleman he was. You felt his shadows slip over your shoulders, acting like a light cooling shawl in the middle of the afternoon. A soft chuckle escaped your lips feeling them curl around your form, the tendrils tickling your skin.

You were so preoccupied that you didn’t notice the soft look in Azriel’s features as he watched you with his shadows.

Another sigh escaped your lips, one of contentment as your eyes fluttered close, allowing the wind and fresh air to take over you, allowing Azriel to lead you through the gardens. You had felt so comfortable being around Azriel the past few months. It felt so natural to grow closer to him — especially since his shadows always seek you out. Your illness seemed to minimize as the time you spent with him grew — that golden bond in your chest slumbering peacefully inside of you.

As if the bond knew that Azriel was someone that you could be safe with — someone you were meant to be around.

And that confused you so much.

You had thought that the bond would sing when you were near your mate — you had hoped that it would do so when you were around Lucien; however, pain and that damned illness was the only thing that came from your wish of being mated to Lucien.

And yet, being with Azriel was much the opposite.

You were happy.

You were content.

You were safe.

You felt him pause mid-step and you tilted your head, eyes opening to look at him. Your eyes locked with his own as he surveyed you momentarily, “…I called your name a few times, (Y/N)… Are you okay?”

A smile tugged on your features and you nodded, “I’m fine… Just content right now…” You slipped your hand from the crook of his elbow and slowly moved to the nearby garden bench. Sitting down with a sigh, you leaned back, eyes staring at the bright blue skies. The sun was high in the sky and she was about to cover her eyes from the bright light when Azriel hovered over you from behind the bench, successfully protecting you.

“Thank you Az…” you hummed out and all the Shadowsinger did was give a hum.

The two of you sat in peaceful silence, allowing the fresh air to consume you. You can’t help but always be glad that Azriel makes you go outside, to bask in the sun and wind.

“It seems that you are having fewer flare-ups of your illness…” his voice reached your ears.

A hum escaped your throat, nodding as your eyes fluttered close, “I think… it’s because I haven’t been near him as much anymore…”

“—- That might be true… But what if it’s a whole different reason…?”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, eyes blinking open to look up at him; who, in turn, was looking at you intently with those cobalt hues. The silence between you, now, was suffocating. You swallowed the lump in your throat as you shifted, standing on your feet as you turned to face him.

“…What are you trying to say, Az…?” you felt your voice was shaking, your whole body was.

Azriel stepped around the bench to face you properly, his body close to yours as he looked down at you.

“What if I was your mate?”

It was as if your whole world stopped right in front of your eyes — a ringing echoed in your ears and it seemed that the world became silent. You faltered, stepping back as Azriel reached to steady you on your feet, his hand grasping your forearm.

“—…What—- What do you mean by that?”

Cobalt hues looked at you with sadness and pity, and most of a twinkle of hope resided in the depths of those pools.

“…I talked with Helion recently,” he breathed out, trying to formulate words to explain his revelation, “—-And he said that mating bonds are not all the same. Some bonds radiate and sing, so to speak, when they’re near their mates. Some bonds can be a physical connection, allowing them to tug and pull at the string. Others — and Helion thinks this is what you, we, have — enable them to feel comfortable with their mate.

“I talked it over with Feyre and Rhysand…” he gently held your hand in his, those cobalt hues looking down at him as his thumb gently caressed your knuckles before they locked onto yours. You felt your breath get caught in your throat, and you waited for him to continue, “We believe you were hurting because you thought Lucien was your mate. You felt it with your whole being, and your bond did not like that — that is where your illness came from—-”

Your mind raced. The ringing in your ears started to grow and you could barely listen to the other words that Azriel was telling you.

Your mate wasn’t Lucien.

All these years, your pain was because your golden string wasn’t tied to Lucien — but Azriel instead.

Azriel noticed your eyes were out-of-focus, and he gently cupped your cheek, watching them focus up at him.

“—… Have you noticed how my shadows adore you?”

The question brought you back, feeling those tendrils of shadow gently caress your skin, soothing the anxiety that was slowly building in your chest.

“—- They knew, (Y/N)…” he whispered, lifting your intertwined hands to press a kiss on your knuckles, “They knew we were mates… even before I knew. I’m yours. I’ve always been yours… I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I never realized… But I’ve always noticed you, I’ve noticed your pain, I’ve noticed your happiness. When your eyes with wrinkle with happiness when you laugh, or when you’d hide in your room when you’re suffering.”

Cobalt hues stared into yours, gently squeezing your hands. Your breath picked up, waiting for your illness to burst — something to wake you up from this wonderful dream. Your mind couldn’t keep up.

That all this time.

You had a mate.

“…How long have you’ve known…?” you whispered, fear in your voice.

Were you not good enough before?

Why did Azriel not tell you?

Why did he let you suffer that long with your illness?

“—-Not that long…” he said, voice desperate to have you understand, seeing your mind turn with negative thoughts, “I would have never let you suffer this long, (Y/N). After the wedding…”

You felt yourself stiffen at the memory, the pain echoed through your body.

“I couldn’t—-I couldn’t let you be in pain again…” he whispered, gently pulling you closer to him, his forehead pressing against yours. You felt his breath against your face, warm and comforting.

The shadows that were resting against your skin, swirling excitedly at the contact between the two of you. A light giggle escaped your lips at the movement, eyes moving back up to look up at Azriel, whose gaze was soft and loving.

It threw you off for a breath.

You never realized on how Azriel looked at you. You never noticed him.

But it seemed he had noticed you.

Always.

“I went looked and looked — looked for something to help you with your pain. And when Helion suggested the comfort mate bond… I hoped that was my answer. My shadows loved you, my eyes are always looking for you… Give me a chance, (Y/N)… Let me show you that I have and always will be yours…”

“You look so much better, (Y/N)…”

You looked over your shoulder after smoothing out your Starfall dress and saw Feyre standing at the threshold of your bedroom. That gentle smile on her features told you everything that she was thinking — that she was happy, that you were finally happy.

Cheeks dusted pink as a shy smile tugged on your lips, “—-I feel better, you know?”

And you were better. You started to regain color in your complexion, you started to eat better and you were often out of your room.

The pain that you were so used to, was nothing but a distant memory of the past.

And you wouldn’t exchange this peacefulness for that.

Feyre stepped into the room, gracefully moving so she stood next to you, in front of the large mirror you were standing in front of. Her sapphire eyes looked over your form, watching how Azriel’s shadows curl around your shoulders, whisps of shadow acting like a shawl that kept you protected.

“He’s protective over you isn’t he…” she mused, amusement in her tone.

You chuckled and swirled a finger around one of the shadows that hovered over your shoulder, “—-He is quite overprotective, but so are his shadows. They haven’t left my side since Azriel started to court me…”

It was true. Ever since you agreed in giving Azriel a chance, all those months ago, his shadows had never left your side. Whenever Azriel was not around (which was rare), his shadows would stick by your side, curl around your arms and legs, as if tattoos that were imbedded into your skin.

Your eyes locked with Feyre and both of you let out a laugh, the melody echoing in your room and you could feel the shadows swirl against your skin, excited of the sound.

“Are you happy, (Y/N)?”

The question was heavy — much heavier than you had expected it to be. It was simple words, and yet, it made your chest tight. You looked at your High Lady for a moment, trying to formulate words in your mind on how you felt.

You were happy.

You were content.

And most and foremost, you were absolutely in love.

Azriel made you feel as if the whole world was in your hands. He courted you slowly but surely, made you smile and laugh. He would bring you treats from your favorite bakeries and try them alongside you, bring you to Valeris and allow you to shop to your hearts content. Azriel would be content in bringing you to the gardens where the two of you would lay on a picnic blanket and bask in each other's presence with a book in your hands. He would carry you up to the skies at night, to see if you could reach the stars above as you had told him you were in love with Valeris' skies.

He made you forget any of the pain associated with falling in love. You were on cloud nine every time you were with him.

You have Feyre a smile, one that made the stars twinkle in your eyes, “I am very happy… He makes me very happy…”

Feyre let out a content sigh before she intertwined your arms together, giving you a smile, “Well come on then… We can’t keep him waiting.”

You chuckled and allowed your High Lady to lead you out of your room and down the grand staircase of the River House. There at the bottom of the staircase, you saw your High Lord dressed in all regality. But he wasn’t the one you felt your heart thump for; next to him, Azriel stood in his suit – the color a darker shade than your own. The two of them stood conversing to one another, until Feyre decided to clear her throat, causing them to turn their heads your direction.

You watched as cobalt hues widen when they looked at you, his body stiffening before relaxing. The shadows that clung to your skin spiraled around your arms and legs, showing their excitement despite the stoic nature of your mate.

Feyre led you down the staircase, until only one step was in between you and Azriel. From the corner of your eyes, you watched a please smirk tug on your High Lady’s lips as she was in her mate’s arms, Rhysand tugging her close to her side.

“We’ll leave you two alone. Do enjoy Starfall…” Rhysand commented, mirth and laughter echoing behind the two of them as they left to join the festivities on the balcony.

Cheeks tinged with a dark pink as your fingers crinkled the skirts of your dress, only to have Azriel reach and grasp your hand within his own. He gently tugged you close, allowing you to step down that final stair until you right by his side. Bringing your hand up to his lips, he pressed a kiss on your knuckles, a simper of a smile tugging at the edge of his lips.

“You look absolutely stunning…” he muttered against your lips, before placing your hand at the crook of his elbow, leading you across the hall.

You watched as he leads you away from the crowded balconies, to the other side of the River House where there was little people around. Both of you stepped onto the empty balcony, the large doors closing behind you.

You were in your own little bubble, your own little world. And all you could focus on was the man that made your heart beat wildly against your chest.

“You look handsome as well, Azriel…” you complimented him and the Shadowsinger just chuckled, pressing you against his side.

“Not as stunning as you. You’re more stunning than the stars that would streak against the night sky…”

You felt your eyes roll, and you playfully shoved Azriel to the side, causing another wave of laughter from the fae. His arm wrapped around your waist again, only to maneuver you so you were looking up at him. Those cobalt hues stared down into your own and your heart thumped harder against your chest.

“Have I proven to you that I’m yours?” he whispered, pressing his forehead against your own.

A light giggle escaped your lips, your hands sliding up his arms so you can gently cup his cheeks and all Azriel did was snuggle his face against your palm, eyes closing to feel you close to him. Your eyes fluttered close, focusing on his breathing as you reached deep within you to feel that golden string – it was calm and glowing inside of you. And you only noticed it when you were with the fae in front of you. You realized, when you were around Lucien or even just thought about him, all you could think about — despite the love you felt for him — was pain, and the burn of the bond in your chest. But with Azriel, you were calm — and happy.

Eyes fluttered open and you noticed him looking at you with so much anticipation, you smiled softly up at him.

“Yes, you’ve proven that you’re mine… But also Azriel…” You leaned up and pressed a chase kiss on his lips, “I’m yours as well…”

The brightest smile tugged on his face as he leaned down to capture your lips in a breathtaking kiss as the skies above the two of you streaked with multicolored stars. The Mother above rejoicing.

👑 General Tag List: @prythianpages . @strangelygreat . @honeybeeboobaa

[ashwhowrites]

I just watched clips of megan fox in transformers. Pleasee can you write Eddie x older hot neighbour that he instantly smitten on from the first day she moved in. But he is embarrassed thinking it wasn't appropriate, so he always tiptoeing around. Wayne grown sick of eddie's antics and encourage him to properly pursue her. Eddie who is previously insecure of himself being inadequate for a mature woman, turns to be a great young father.

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

The older woman

Eddie was minding his own as he worked on his cigarette. But his ears perked up as he heard the sound of a truck driving on the gravel. He watched as a woman stepped up, dressed for the hot heat in Hawkins. She wore a tank top, tight in the right places, and small jean shorts. Eddie felt the sun beaming down on him as his hairline began to sweat. He swallowed the dryness in his throat when she noticed him staring.

"Hi there, I'm Y/N, we must be neighbors." Her smile had Eddie's heart running. He threw his bud to the ground and wiped his hands down his sweat shorts.

"Eddie," He said as he shook her hand. He ignored the buzz of electricity he felt. She was even hotter up close. "Need any help?" he offered, his eyes trailing over to the amount of boxes that sat in the truck bed.

"That would be amazing."

Eddie spent two hours sweating next to her as they moved her boxes inside. He felt his shorts get tight whenever she bent over. He learned she was single, and he had no idea how. She was older, but Eddie didn't care. He was smitten by her on the first day.

~~~

"Those flowers seem to be coming in great," Eddie smiled, he came from Hellfire and saw Y/N out in her front garden. She was on her hands and knees as she pulled out the weeds. Sweat dripped down her neck, and Eddie tried not to stare.

"Seems like someone had a good eye for placement," she flirted, she sent him a wink. Eddie wasn't as stone-cold as he thought. She could tell the younger boy had a little crush on her, from how he blushed or played with his curls when she was around. She enjoyed making the boy nervous.

He stuttered out a thank you before he raced back into his trailer.

Wayne watched from the window with a smirk, he sipped on his coffee as Eddie practically ran in.

"Smooth," Wayne teased

"Shut up," Eddie groaned as he went into his room.

~

Sadly, Eddie didn't get any smoother, he looked like an idiot when he talked to her. He felt that his crush was inappropriate so he tried his best to be a friendly neighbor.

Y/N sat in her front yard, swimsuit on as she soaked in the sun. Eddie watched from the window, wishing he was on her lips instead of the cigarette she inhaled.

"That's creepy," Wayne said, scaring the world out of Eddie.

He jumped and acted like he was looking at something else. But it didn't matter, he was caught.

"Kid, just ask her out instead of staring like a stalker." Wayne sighed. "She moved in two months ago and all Eddie did was tip-toe his way around her.

"No way, she's older! She will probably laugh in my face if I ask her out." Eddie groaned, he shut the shade and looked over at Wayne.

"She wouldn't. I've met her and talked to her. She's very kind."

"You can't talk to her! What if she likes you" Eddie panicked

"Flattered, but she doesn't. But what about all the other guys she might meet in town? Really want to take the chance?"

Eddie thought of Wayne's advice and bit at his lip. He could take the shot, what is the worst that could happen?

"Fine." Eddie huffed and opened the door.

He took a deep breath as he walked over the small distance.

"Can I get a hit?" his voice reached her ears and she smiled. Her eyes shut as she simply held it out for him to take.

Eddie sat next to her tanning chair, liking the way she was at a higher ground. He could see her skin glistening with sweat as he grabbed the cigarette.

God knows he needed it

He inhaled it and let it calm his nerves. The tobacco on his tongue as he relaxed.

"You know windows work both ways, right?"

Eddie froze as she smirked and turned her head to look at him. She flipped up her sunglasses and took in his blushed face.

"Yeah..."

"I hope I gave a good show,"

Eddie was smitten by how much confidence she had, and how she knew he was tied around her finger.

"A ten out of ten review," Eddie joked, he smiled as she laughed.

"Wow, the boy does speak!" She cheered as she sat up, and swung her legs to the side. Her hot legs were inches away from Eddie as she leaned down and placed her arms on her knees.

Eddie didn't say anything as he inhaled another hit before he passed it back to her.

"Can I ask you something?" he asked, he looked up at her and squinted as the bright sun was above her head.

"Yeah, wanna go inside for a drink?" She offered, her eyebrow raised like she was hinting at something.

Eddie coughed but nodded.

She stood up, and Eddie whimpered as her whole body was now on display inches above him. He wanted to get on his knees and kiss every inch he could reach.

She held out her hand, he grabbed it and stood up. As they walked in, he looked back at the window. He rolled his eyes as Wayne stood watching. She was right, the window worked both ways.

"You old enough to drink, Eddie?" she asked as she grabbed two beers from her fridge

"Not that young, sweetheart," he said as he grabbed it from her hand, easily cracking open the top.

"Good," she said as she sipped her beer, "what did you want to ask?"

"Not many people pick to live here, were you running from something?" Eddie asked, he leaned his arms on the counter

"I left my ex-husband, and needed to be somewhere he wasn't." She shrugged, leaning on the counter, across from him.

"I'm glad he ran you here," Eddie admitted

"Yeah? How come?" she asked, leaning closer

Eddie licked his lips nervously as she was inches away from his face

"So I can...ask you out" Eddie confessed, his eyes flicked down to her lips

"Alright, let me hear you ask," her eyes flicked down to his lips

"Can I take you out to dinner? Tonight?" his eyes back on hers, "on a date"

"Yes you can," she smiled, her lips inches from his but she pulled away. She laughed as Eddie didn't care to hide his disappointment.

~

Eddie sat across from her as she sipped her wine. He took the time to admire how breathtaking she looked in the restaurant lights. The low glow smoothed her skin.

"What are you staring at?" she asked as she set down her glass

"You," Eddie said, a small smile on his face as he leaned back in his chair

"You do that a lot, huh?" she turned her head to the side with a smile

"Can you blame me? I never want to look away."

Y/N felt butterflies in her stomach. She didn't know if feeling so beautiful because of a younger guy was a good thing. It was frowned upon, but she didn't care. The heat in his eyes was what she had been searching for in her marriage.

"Smooth talker," she said

"Dirty lover," Eddie replied, a smirk on his face

"Are you trying to get in my bed, Eddie?" she asked her chin on her hand as she looked at him through her lashes

"I hope so," he laughed as he leaned forward, "but I'm trying to win you over."

"You'll score," she said with a wink

~

Eddie drove them back to the trailer park, his hand on her thigh as he hummed along to the music

"Want to come in?" Y/N asked as Eddie walked her to her front door

"Course," Eddie smiled, a silent cheer in his head as he followed her in

They settled on the couch and played a random movie. They talked through two movies, getting closer. Her body was practically on top of his as their words became whispers.

"I don't think at my age I'm supposed to feel like a teenage girl," Y/N said, her face inches away from his.

"I was worried I wouldn't be mature enough for you, so if you want to be a teenager, that'll make it easier for me" Eddie chuckled, his arm wrapped around her shoulder. His fingers softly trailed up and down her skin.

"Don't worry about being anything but yourself for me. Because I happen to really like the boy next store," she said with a wink, "plus," she whispered, moving onto his lap. "I like having you in the palm of my hand."

Eddie shivered underneath her body, itching his lips closer to hers.

"You want to kiss me?" she whispered, moving her arms to wrap around his neck

"Yes, please" he breathed out as he licked his lips

She didn't say anything, just placed her lips on his. Eddie put his palms against her back as he pushed her body against his. He wanted to inhale every part of her.

He whimpered as he felt her tongue slip inside his mouth

He might have to thank Wayne for this later

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt @ineedmentalhelp123

[happy74827]

You Must Be Haunting Me

[Brian Moser x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Even after a year, you’re still haunted by the Ice Truck Killer.

WC: 2643

Category: Angst, No Comfort {TW: Not Proof Read 😞}

I did another one!! Are you guys proud of me? 🥹

So, rewatching the season, I forgot how sassy he was so I wanted to really show off that aspect in this one. Then my patience was over it, so the ending is just kinda… bland. But it’s okay because it’s Brian (he seriously needs more attention FOR REAL).

Anyway, for those 14 Brian fans… this one’s for you 🫶

『••✎••』

The dark circles beneath your eyes. The way you can barely stand on your feet, your body so exhausted that you can hardly lift a finger to defend yourself. You’re like a walking corpse, and he's the one responsible for putting you in this state.

It started one year ago. One year ago, you moved to Miami and became the victim of a killer. It wasn't until his brother came along and put him six feet under that you began to heal and get back into the normal, everyday routine. But then he showed up.

It was one of those nights where you’d randomly get a jolt in your sleep. You sat up straight, the sheets pooling at your hips as you looked around the room. Your breathing was shallow, and sweat was beading on your brow. You felt a shiver run up your spine as you slowly laid back down.

"You sleep soundly."

His voice caused your heart to stop. You knew who it was, the same man who had terrorized you, who made your life a living hell. Slowly, you turned to your side, staring wide-eyed at the dark figure at the end of your bed. Your hands began to shake and tremble as you reached for the lamp on your nightstand.

"Oh, don't bother."

In an instant, with the sound of fingers snapping, the lamp's light went out. You could hear a chuckle coming from the intruder, and you were paralyzed, afraid to make a move.

I mean, it couldn’t be him, right? It was just some sick joke. He was dead. He couldn’t be here.

He couldn’t.

But, god, he looked the exact same. The curly dark hair, the pale skin. He was just a silhouette in the darkness of your room, and yet, you could tell that the grin he wore was the same grin that he had on the day you met him.

"You look like you’ve seen a ghost." He mused, moving closer towards you. His weight caused the bed to dip slightly, and you could feel the fear begin to take over your body. "Should I start saying boo?"

Your throat was dry, and you couldn’t speak; all you could do was stare at him, frozen in place. He lowered his head in amusement and chuckled, leaving his lips once more.

It was when his eyes weren’t on you that broke you out of your daze. You shot up from the bed, nearly tumbling over yourself as you ran to the dresser, grabbing the nearest thing you could find and throwing it at him. It was a vase, one that held a bouquet of flowers, that shattered against the wall, causing him to look up.

"…Was that supposed to scare me?" He asked, raising a brow as he tilted his head, an almost bored expression on his face. "You’ve got the aim of a blind man."

"Get out of my house!"

The sound of your own voice startled you. Anger wasn’t necessarily the emotion you normally felt, but now it was the only thing that was running through you. Anger and adrenaline.

He stood from the bed, taking a step closer to you, the broken glass crunching beneath his feet. You didn’t care; you took a step back, holding your hand out as if it would stop him from coming any closer.

"Get away from me, you psycho."

He laughed. He actually fucking laughed.

"Psycho?" He repeated, "That’s a new one."

"Stay back." You hissed, feeling the tears well up in your eyes.

He took another step.

"Don't touch me!"

Another. He was only inches away from you now, and the thought of him being so close made you want to vomit.

The annoyed sigh he let out when he noticed your hand trembling was enough to set you off. You didn’t think twice; the only thought in your mind was to get him out, and so you did.

When he was walking towards you, your mind remembered the small kitchen knife that you left on the counter. Quickly, you ran past him, dodging his hands as he reached out to grab you, and grabbing the knife, and in one quick motion, you turned and stabbed him.

"That’s not going to—"

It went right through his chest. He stared down at the knife, then up at you, with that all-knowing expression.

He sighed again, "…work."

What the fuck?

In the next moment, he vanished, and the knife fell to the ground, the clattering against the linoleum floor echoing through the house.

For a minute, you thought it was a dream. That is, until he appeared in the chair beside you, his arms crossed, his eyes boring holes into your face.

"You can’t hurt me." He said, his tone flat, his eyes narrowed, "I can’t either. Not physically, anyhow."

You stared at him. He stared at you.

"I can fuck you up, though." He continued, "In many ways. Mentally, emotionally… The possibilities are endless."

"What the hell is this?" You questioned, your brows furrowing, "Are you some kind of— of, what, demented Casper?"

His expression was unreadable, but then again, he always had that look on his face.

"Casper? Wow, seriously? You remind me why I don't watch movies." He groaned, shaking his head.

"You didn't answer my question."

"And you won't like my answer."

"Try me."

"You’ve lost it." He shrugged, "Completely off the hinges, you know? And that's saying something, considering who you’re talking to."

"I don't—"

"Have a mental disorder."

"What?"

"That's what it's called. When someone has delusions of grandeur, where they think someone is after them. Someone, of course, meaning me." He explained, a grin spreading across his lips. "But, no. It's all in your head. Just. Like. Me."

The words sank in, and you stared down at the floor, your mind processing everything he was telling you.

"No, I'm not crazy." You murmured, mostly to yourself, but loud enough for him to hear.

"You're not? Well, how else would you explain me being here?" He asked, cocking a brow, "I’m dead, remember? My dear brother made sure of that."

"I—"

"And you know damn well I’d never wear this out of the office. It's not exactly the most flattering."

It was then you noticed what he was wearing.

He had his lab coat on. His entire outfit was the same thing he wore the day he met you. You were with Debra to question him about Tucci’s recovery and, god, if he didn't make the biggest impression.

It was pretty hard not to like him when he was giving one of his patients, a little boy, a lollipop from his jar and making a joke.

You remember telling Deb, 'What a nice guy'.

Oh, the irony. The fucking irony.

"What a nice guy." You found yourself repeating before looking him up and down, your lips curling in disgust. "You were just fucking with me the whole time, weren't you?"

He shrugged, "What's it matter now? I'm dead."

"It matters to me."

"Would you like me to apologize? To beg for your forgiveness?" He asked, a mocking tone in his voice, "Would that make you feel better?"

You were silent.

"Wouldn’t do anything." He continued, "And it certainly wouldn't change a thing. But, hey! By all means, you go right ahead and play pretend. Maybe then, you'll sleep better at night."

You scoffed. He was such a piece of shit.

"How much are you gonna torture me, huh?" You asked, crossing your arms over your chest, "Torture me like you did, Debra? Like your brother? Are you just going to follow me around like a bad smell? Make my life a living hell, like you did theirs?"

"I didn't torture him." He stated, a hint of malice in his tone, "He's my brother."

"Like that means shit."

"He was just like me. A lot like me, in fact." He went on, his eyes flickering over to you. "I could see myself in him."

"Well, he killed you." You countered, "That doesn't really seem like brotherly love."

"He did what he had to." He shrugged, "That Harry… he was a real piece of work, wasn't he?"

You were quiet again.

"And Debra?"

"A pain in my ass. Always sticking her nose in places where it doesn't belong." He replied, shaking his head. "But, then again, that was her job, wasn't it?"

"You broke her. You tore her apart." You snapped, the memories of the past year filling your mind. "She really loved you. She really did."

"I know."

"You don't care."

"Not at all." He said, the faintest hint of a smirk appearing. "Not in the slightest."

"Fuck you."

He laughed, his laughter filling the room before it faded out, leaving the both of you in a heavy silence.

He had a different aura around him this time. It might be the aura of a dead man, a hallucination. But he still felt so… present. Even his mannerisms were the same—the way he moved his hands, the way he tilted his head. His eyes still had that glint of mischief. It was so real.

So. Fucking. Real.

"If your just in my head, why can’t I just kick you out?" You asked, finally breaking the silence, "Make you go away."

"Because, even after a year, I still affect you." He answered, his voice low. "Even though you try to ignore it and push the memories back, I’ll always be there. In the back of your mind."

"Why couldn’t you be my dead childhood dog or something? Why do you have to be some crazy serial killer that ruined my life?" You said, shaking your head.

"I'm not boring."

"Neither was my childhood dog."

"Rocky didn't have a single interesting thing about him. All he did was drool and lick himself." He countered, his lips pursing.

"How the hell do you know— oh, fuck this. Just go away." You groaned, rubbing your temples.

He didn't respond, and the room was quiet. For a second, you thought he actually listened. Then, you heard him hum.

"Hm. No."

"Jesus Christ."

"Now, that's really a name I haven't heard in a while."

This was how it became. For months, you would have these random conversations with him, and no matter how much you tried, he would never leave. Everywhere you went, he was there.

Work.

Shopping.

Even at the damn bar.

You had no idea what this was. You didn't know if this was a side effect of the trauma you went through. Whether it was your mind trying to cope or just the result of a lack of sleep. Whatever it was, it was draining the life out of you.

You felt like a shell. Your coworkers knew something was wrong. The way your eyes were dull and lifeless, the dark circles, the slump in your shoulders.

They were concerned—except Debra. She was too concerned about the case to pay attention to anyone else.

You weren't really sure what day it was. Or month. Time was going by, and you were slowly dying mentally, as he put it.

"Is this because I can't sleep?" You asked him one night, staring at the ceiling, your voice hoarse, "Because I can't go to sleep without seeing your face? Or is it because I don't have the energy to live?"

"I would say both."

You groaned, throwing an arm over your eyes, "What did I do to deserve this?"

"It's not what you did." He replied, his eyes locked on yours, "It's what I did."

"Yeah, well, thanks."

"Don't mention it."

The two of you sat there in silence before he cleared his throat.

"How are things with my favorite bloodhound?" He asked a curious tone in his voice. "Is he still sleeping with that cute blonde, or did he wise up and break it off?"

"Rita. Her name is Rita." You corrected him, shaking your head, "She’s his girlfriend, not his flavor of the week."

"Hm."

"And, for your information, they're fine. Great, actually."

"How disappointing." He scoffed, leaning back in his seat. He genuinely looked upset, which caused a snicker to leave your lips. "What's so funny?"

"You are." You replied, looking over at him, "You're so pathetic."

He blinked.

"You're a dead man. Dead. How can you be disappointed about his love life?"

"I'm his older brother." He stated, his jaw tightening, "I want what's best for him."

"Really? Then why aren't you in his brain, harassing him?" You questioned, a smile coming onto your face, "You know what? I bet he's sleeping great. He doesn't have to deal with this. Not like I do."

"I would love to give him a good old-fashioned night terror. It'd be easy, too. He's not exactly the most stable." He replied, his eyes narrowing slightly. "But his brain is too messy. He's always been that way."

"I guess he takes after his brother."

"He took after our father. The one thing I did was make him forget about it." He retorted, his tone harsh, "Notice how he never talks about the old man? Or the past? Now it’s only me. That's because of me. I took him from that shitty childhood. I gave him a better life. A better everything. I could’ve given him the world."

You were quiet.

"Instead, he killed me." He spat, the venom in his voice obvious. "Because of that stupid, half-witted sailor mouth."

You honestly had to give your brain props for this one. He was too realistic. He was too Brian.

"You know what?" You began, sitting up, "I really am feeling a lobotomy."

At that, he actually laughed. Now that… that was different from the chuckles and snickers, this was a full laugh, something you haven't heard since you met him. It was loud, it was obnoxious, and it was the only thing you could hear.

It was the last thing you heard before the most amazing thing happened.

You fell asleep.

In the morning, you woke up to a pounding on your door and an annoying ringing. Groaning, you pulled the pillow over your head, hoping the noises would disappear. Instead, they only got louder, and you had no choice but to get up.

"Coming, coming!" You shouted, shuffling out of the bedroom and towards the door, the banging and the ringing still going on.

When you opened the door, you saw Debra.

"Good. You're up." She greeted, her expression annoyed. "Where were you last night?"

"Sleeping. What are you, my mom?"

"I called you. I even sent someone by your house. You weren't here." She stated, a slight bite in her voice, "And I'm not your mom, but if I were, I'd spank you."

"For what?"

"We have a meeting in five minutes." She said, checking her watch, "Get dressed. I'm waiting."

"Shit."

In record time, you threw on some jeans and a shirt, and within the next three minutes, you were out the door and in the car with Debra.

But as she pulled out of the driveway, he appeared directly in front of her.

"Hey, watch—"

But he only winked at you before disappearing. And at the time, you found it nothing but him being a prick. But, later on, you would realize.

This was the last time you would ever see him.

A month went by. And another. And another.

Then, a year.

The visions of the past still came. The thoughts of him were still there. The memories were still fresh. And sometimes, if you listened closely, you could still hear that laugh.

But you weren’t afraid anymore. You had no reason to be. And so, you moved on. You continued living because that's what he would've hated. And that made you smile.

Because, now, it wasn't him haunting you.

It was you haunting him.

[purple-babygirl]

don't call me daddy V

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x little!f!reader

Word count: 4,660

Summary : In a world where littles are openly themselves, they volunteer to help and be helped by willing caregivers. In spite of himself, Bucky finds himself stuck with one and to keep the nagging away, he has to learn how to be around her with everything that that entails.

Warnings: crying, age regression, fluff, a little angst

A/N: i would like to give credits for this part and its idea to🦊nonnie because without her ask there might've not been a fifth part to this story. Having said that, i'm thinking this should be the last part of the story because i am out of scenario your girl is empty. but anyway, please enjoy this one and have a tight hug xx💜💜

~

When they arrived back at her house, she was asleep in the passenger's seat.

Bucky didn’t want to wake her up. He knew she barely got any sleep last night because of the mean cough she was suffering from and so he carefully carried her inside without a word.

His heart kept speeding up every time he would remember what she called him after taking her shot as he slipped her feet out of her shoes and socks and tucked her in her bed.

He frankly had no idea what he would do if she was to wake up little and if he was ready to be a good daddy to her. What if he messed up again? He seemed to be a pro at that.

Luckily, when she woke up later that night, she was her big self again and didn’t seem to have any recollection of calling Bucky daddy, or if she did, she didn’t mention it.

Bucky gave her her cough syrup and the rest of the meds, helping her go back to sleep as he presumed his place on the floor by her bed.

In a way he couldn’t explain, even her coughs were more comfort than the silence at his house, and definitely more comfort than his nightmares.

It was 12 days of little sleep, a lot of crying, meds, movies and sleepovers until she was fully cured again, and even though Bucky hated that she was sick, those seemed to have been some of the best days he’s ever gotten to live since he’s come back to himself.

He got to laugh with someone, care for someone, comfort someone and enjoy the company of someone. And not just anyone; it was her.

But something was missing still.

Bucky wanted her to call him daddy. More than anything and from the bottom of his heart, he wanted to deserve that name, that role.

What Bucky had noticed in the days he’d stayed at her place was that she had no family pictures at all.

She had framed pictures of friends, of herself, of Corgi, but none of family members.

It didn’t come as a surprise because she’d mentioned it to him before, and he just knew that if he wanted to be her caregiver, her daddy, Bucky had to prove to her that he was nothing like those who’d hurt her. He had to prove himself worthy of taking care of her; set himself apart from them.

And to do that, he had to know more.

“I see no family pictures anywhere,” Bucky spoke as he helped her plant the new tulips she had in place.

“Yeah, we’re not close.” She shrugged, hand stuttering just the tiniest bit in their movements.

“Can I ask why?”

She sighed, “why?”

“I’m trying to learn from the mistakes of others.”

She laughed, “really?”

“Really.”

Oh, this wasn’t a joke?

“You know you don’t have to do that anymore, right?” She couldn’t understand why he would want to try again when the report was handed and he was let off the hook.

“I want to. I really want to.” Bucky wished his gloved hands weren’t muddy as they were so he could touch her face.

He found himself craving physical contact around her more often than not.

“You finally believe in the power of the program?” She teased, keeping her focus on the flowers she was rooting.

“No, I couldn’t care less about the institution and its programs.”

“Not even Mrs. Morrison?” She joked again.

“I’m serious, doll.”

“Why then?” She dropped the bulbs, deciding to face Bucky.

“I want it because it’s you I’ll be daddy to.”

“They never loved me for who I was.” She answered his previous question and Bucky felt a pang at his chest.

He had made her feel the same way.

He remained silent, not wanting to interrupt her in fear that she might stop.

“I always had to be a certain way, say certain things, act a certain way. Do what we say and then we’ll see if we can love you.”

Bucky might’ve been speechless, but his eyes spoke a million words, begging hers for forgiveness for his ignorant mistakes.

“That’s why it hurt so much when you showed me you didn’t accept the little version of me.”

“I’m so sorry-”

She shook her head, stopping him.

“I’ve been rejected for too long, Bucky, too many times. It took me a good while to finally believe that I was worth loving despite my quirks, ugly parts and possible mistakes. Took too long to teach myself that it didn’t matter if I cried all the time, was too clingy or too talkative; I was still lovable.” She pointed to her chest as she finished her words.

Bucky took his gloves off, pulling her in for a hug, unable to stop himself anymore. He had no words, only anger and remorse raging inside his chest.

“It takes you a while to unlearn stuff you’ve been taught your whole life by the people who were supposed to love you the most.” She whispered into his shirt.

“Doll, I’m so sorry,” Bucky whispered back.

“It’s okay.” She looked up at him, “I appreciate you, Bucky, I really do, but I don’t think I’m ready to lose everything I’ve built inside me if you decide in the middle of it that you weren’t fully ready to take on such a responsibility. I forgive you. I promise. But I don’t trust you enough to give up full control of myself and my life to you again. I’m sorry.” She pulled away from the hug, giving Bucky the option to walk away.

“Don’t be. I understand.” He remained in place.

“Are you gonna disappear now?” She wondered with a sad smile.

“No, you’re not getting rid of me so easily.” Bucky returned the smile, putting his gloves back on.

She smiled gratefully, “I don’t wanna lose you either. You’re such a great friend. And I owe you forever for taking care of me those past few days.”

“What if I prove myself to you though?” Bucky asked, dipping a tulip bulb in the soil.

“What?” She tilted her head in confusion.

“What if I show you how serious I am about this and prove myself worthy of you?”

“Bucky, you don’t have to do that. I know you have a life, responsibilities-”

“I want to do it. There’s nothing more important to me right now than this. And you.”

“If you’re doing this just because you can’t accept that you failed the program-”

“I swear on my ma’s soul, I want to do this. Because of you, doll. For you and with you.”

The words died on her tongue as she watched his sincere eyes implore hers.

“Would you give me a chance to prove myself to you? Please?”

“Okay, Bucky.” She swallowed, “one chance.”

“That’s all I need.” Bucky smiled.

She was not sick anymore and he didn’t have a reason to stick around. He also didn’t want to push her on the matter of regressing, so, respectful of her boundaries, he left.

~

After their conversation in the garden, Bucky had to go home.

His heart was heavy when he entered his empty apartment to nothing and no one. Being alone in here wasn’t something he enjoyed anymore.

It has been 2 days of intense research that Bucky has conducted on age regression and partners in little space when she texted him that night.

“Mr. Barnes, can you please come over?”

He wasn’t particularly happy about the fact that he was Mr. Barnes again, but he certainly was happy that she thought to text him when little. This was an improvement and it counted to Bucky.

“Will be right there, doll.” He texted back, running to his motorcycle.

~

Bucky took in a deep breath before knocking at her door, ready to prove himself a suitable daddy.

She opened with teary eyes, making Bucky’s heart sink.

“What’s wrong, doll?” Bucky asked as he stepped inside.

“I can’t open the pickle jar and now my hands hurt,” she cried, showing him the insides of her palms and how red they were from trying so hard to twist the cap on the glass jar.

She was indeed a little worried that Bucky might find this stupid, that he might yell at her or get upset because she was crying over something minimal in his eyes.

But that wasn’t the case at all. The man was just thankful that she was alright.

“Oh, doll,” Bucky sighed in relief, glad that she wasn’t actually hurt.

Until he remembered that this was a big deal to her. Her hands hurt and she was frustrated because the cap wouldn’t budge.

Moments like these definitely required a daddy.

“I thought Mr. Barnes could help,” she sniffled, her hand wiping under her nose, “metal arm.” She touched his gloved hand.

Bucky chuckled, taking the pickle jar out of her hand, “what if I can do it without the metal arm? What would you give me in return?”

“The biggest pickle?” She offered, wiping her tears away from her eyes, her crying stopping at once.

Bucky laughed at her innocence, “no, I want something else, doll.”

She tilted her head expectantly.

What could Mr. Barnes possibly want? Did he want the whole jar? Would he at least leave her one pickle? She was craving pickles-

“I want you to start calling me Bucky again. No more Mr. Barnes. Can you do that for me, doll?”

Oh, that was something she could do.

“Only if you can open the jar with your not metal hand,” she challenged, her little mind amazed by the idea because look at her hand! It had red marks all over when she tried opening that jar.

“You got it,” Bucky said, easily twisting the cap on the jar open, making her mouth open with it.

“Woah,” she whispered as Bucky handed her the jar with a laugh.

“You’re welcome, doll.” He smiled, watching her chew on a crunchy pickle.

“Thank you, Bucky.” She smiled back, offering him a big pickle.

Bucky’s nerves tingled, knowing he was one step closer to her and his desired title.

~

Moving forward, Bucky learned to distinguish between her big self and little self through texts.

Her little self would always talk about him and herself in third person.

Plus, her big self always needed help with bigger things like needing Bucky to fix her sink or look at her car, knowing he might burn down the city if she went back to asking Adam for help with those things.

Her little self, on the other hand, would need help with the lighter things, the sweeter things. She would call asking for help with Corgi, something too high on a shelf or even just wanting Bucky’s company.

Tonight was one of those nights.

It was thundering more than usual and Bucky had wanted to go and be with her, but he didn’t want to invade her privacy.

But then she called and her scared voice saying his name had Bucky moving even before she uttered the words.

He was proud that she now knew that he was just only one call away; that he would come running whenever she needed. She could finally count on him to be there for her and he couldn’t be more contented.

He knew that consistency was important in relationships, especially one where she was little.

“Hey, doll, it’s okay. It’s just a little thunder,” Bucky cooed, rubbing her back as she let him inside.

“I’m not scared anymore now that Bucky is here.” She smiled, her breathing visibly slowing down.

“Well, I’m staying the night so you have nothing to worry about,” he chuckled, following her to the bedroom.

“Bucky covered his motorcycle?” she asked, worried his vehicle would get ruined.

“Leave that for now, we’ll hose it down together tomorrow when it’s sunny.”

“Corgi loves the hose,” she spoke out the first thought that came to her mind and Bucky loved it, laughing heartily at her comment.

The dog’s ears perked at the sound of his name, jumping at Bucky’s feet as soon as he entered the bedroom, waiting for his share of pets.

He bent down to give the dog some love when he heard her sigh.

“Corgi loves Bucky too.” She smiled shyly, internally wishing her name was Corgi.

“Bucky loves Corgi right back,” Bucky whispered, leaning in to kiss her forehead.

She only smiled bigger, running to her bed and getting under the covers.

When Bucky got down to sleep on the floor that night, however, she slipped off her bed and right next to him.

“Doll, the floor is too cold for you. Sleep on your bed, come on.” Bucky sat up, wanting to help her up on the bed again but she wouldn’t move.

“Wanna be next to Bucky,” she said with a pout.

“But-”

“I know Bucky can’t sleep on beds. It’s okay. Doll will sleep here,” she told him, squeezing Wolfie in her arms.

Bucky’s heart fluttered and it made his mind light up with an idea only a true daddy would have.

“Do you wanna build a fort?” He suggested and her face instantly beamed with a smile as she nodded.

Of course she did!

That night as Bucky gathered all of her soft blankets to make her a floor mattress inside a fort full of fluffy pillows, he knew he was smitten.

This girl had him head over heels for her and there was nothing in the world that he wouldn’t do just to see her smile.

“Can Bucky please tell me a story?”

“Sure, doll. Do you have any books I can read to you from?”

“I have books that big me likes but I don’t want those.”

“What would you like then?”

“I want a story that is Bucky’s. Tell me a story you didn’t tell anyone at the institution.”

Oh, she was jealous. The thought made Bucky smile as he pulled the covers up to her neck to make sure she was warm down on the floor.

“Okay, you ready?” Bucky asked, dimming the lights in her room.

She made herself comfortable under the covers, big eyes watching Bucky’s handsome grin as the cozy atmosphere he’s created comforted her through the storm, “ready.”

“Once upon a time, there was a small idiot who picked up fights with boys much bigger than himself. His name was Steve…”

Bucky fell asleep with his hand stroking her hair, watching her soft breaths leave her chest that night without abruptly waking up in the middle of it for the first time in forever.

~

Bucky didn’t know what it was like to be her, but he was going to do his best to put himself in her shoes like she’d previously tried.

She deserved to be fully and entirely understood.

He witnessed a glimpse of her feelings towards the concept of family a couple of times when they would watch movies like The Lion King or Lilo and Stitch.

She didn’t seem to be affected by the death of Mufasa even though he knew her to be a very sensitive little. She was sad for Simba, of course, but not for Mufasa’s demise. Similarly with Lilo and Stitch, she didn’t care much about the concept of the family.

There was an actual barrier separating her from experiencing any positive feelings that came with the idea of family. Because she had none to associate with hers.

With some more research, Bucky managed to find a few animated movies that didn’t seem to revolve around the idea of family love and how family was everything and whatnot.

One of those movies was The Willoughbys. The movie depicted how neglecting some parents can be and that 2 people loving each other and getting married didn’t necessarily mean they would love their children too.

It was a very unique movie and Bucky was actually happy they could make such movies nowadays.

When the song I Choose You started playing in the movie, Bucky felt her small hand squeezing into a fist.

He silently wrapped his hand around hers, offering quiet comfort and support.

“Bucky chooses you, doll. Wholeheartedly.” Bucky reassured, bringing her knuckles to his lips.

He looked down to see tears in her innocent eyes as she showed her feelings for the first time during one of their movie nights.

“Bucky chooses me?” she croaked, lip trembling as she cried.

“I choose Bucky, too.” She pulled him down by one cheek to leave a kiss on the other.

Bucky froze.

It was the first time she’s kissed him since he applied that cream on her burnt hand back at his house. She did it on her own, too.

“And I choose Corgi,” she said, running her fingers through the hair of the puppy sleeping soundly on her lap.

“That’s right, and Corgi chooses you. Family doesn’t have to be the ones you were born with, doll,” Bucky told her as he wiped her tears away, “you can choose the family you want for yourself”.

“Thank you, Bucky.” She hugged him tight, afraid he might not be real and that this moment is all made up.

“You’re welcome, doll.” Bucky kissed the side of her head as they pulled away.

“Can I choose Adam, too?” She asked, voice barely above a whisper as she gauged Bucky’s reaction.

She could actually hear his chest rumble with a low “argh” before he nodded despite himself, making her giggle.

“Don’t worry. I only have one Bucky.” She reassured, slinging her arm around Bucky’s metal one.

One daddy, she wanted to say, but she couldn’t. She was still scared.

~

Bucky knew that she needed her own independent time alone sometimes even when little, and he would allow her just that, texting throughout the day just to make sure she was okay, reminding her to drink water and take care of herself.

But there was one particularly hard weekend when she felt real down about some of her plants dying as the storm took them out of the ground.

When she opened the door she was clearly disheveled, hair all messy and looking like it hadn’t been brushed all week.

“Hey, doll,” Bucky spoke gently as he closed the door behind him.

She quickly ran into his arms, needing the comfort more than anything, “my plants are dead and Corgi peed on my new carpet and my hair doesn’t smell like shampoo anymore and I’m-”

Damn. She was spiraling. She just slipped out of his hug and on the floor. Oh no.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re okay. I’m here now and I got you, okay?” Bucky tried his best to reassure her, getting on his knees before her to look into her eyes.

“Okay,” she hiccupped, nodding even though she wasn’t fully convinced.

“What happened to the plants?” Bucky wanted to handle her concerns one at a time.

“My apple trees were pulled out of place because of the storm,” she started sobbing again as she remembered what had happened to her hard word.

“Okay, okay, tell you what, I’ll put them back in place, okay?”

“Really?” She sniffed.

“Really.” Bucky smiled kindly.

“Okay.” She nodded, trying to control her breathing.

“And we’ll throw the new carpet in the washing machine, and keep Corgi in his playpen with pee pads,” Bucky gave her the steps of how the day was going to go, leading her by the hand to where Corgi was.

“Okay.” She nodded again, her tears ceasing.

“And while the carpet is being washed, I’ll help you wash your hair. Does that sound okay?” Bucky asked her permission, wanting to make sure she was completely comfortable.

“Yes.” She was finally smiling again as well.

“Okay, let’s get you in here,” Bucky told the puppy before placing him inside his playpen.

He spread a few sheets on which the dog could pee if needed before collecting the affected mat.

“Let’s take this to the washing machine,” Bucky voiced his movements, wanting to put her at ease as he kept her hand in his and walked with her to the bathroom.

“In you go.” Bucky threw the rug inside the washing machine along with some detergent.

“Now what do we do?” He asked her, wanting to keep her out of her head.

“Wash doll’s hair?” She asked with half a smile.

“That’s right, get in there.” Bucky tilted his head towards the bathtub with a smile.

~

And for some reason, it was different this time. He didn’t feel all weird seeing her naked. Maybe it was because he knew her better this time and was familiar with her in more ways than one that such intimacy didn’t startle him.

He wasn’t sure, but Bucky wasn’t complaining, only grateful as she closed her sweet eyes and trusted him to wash her hair for her.

“Alright, show me how it’s done,” Bucky encouraged, instructing her to whip her hair to the front so he could wrap the towel around it.

She did as told with a giggle, dangling her hair before her and letting Bucky wrap it up the best he could.

“Off to the couch.” Bucky chuckled as he watched her skip in her cashmere bathrobe to her couch.

Later after Bucky has brushed her hair for her, he helped her get dressed and they went outside together to replant the fallen apple saplings the wind had knocked down just like he'd promised.

The smile on her face was new and unmatched as she watched Bucky handle her plants with care.

“Thank you, Bucky.” She hugged him close, hardly wanting to let go as they stood in the middle of her garden.

Bucky was now rooted in her heart just like the plants in her garden were in their soil.

She didn’t think she could be away from him anymore. She didn’t want to be away from him anymore.

“Daddy, I’m hungry,” she whispered timidly as they started walking back to the house.

“What do you want on your piz- what did you say?” Bucky stopped in his tracks.

“I’m hungry.” She bit her lip and looked away quickly, hesitant now that his eyes were on her.

“Before that, doll.” Bucky brought her eyes back to his by her chin.

“D-daddy?”

Bucky smiled a smile that reached his eyes as they lit up with gratitude. He couldn’t believe he was finally hearing that word.

“Daddy’s thinking pizza, doll. Sound okay?”

Her face glowed up with her own smile as she witnessed Bucky, with full commitment, refer to himself as daddy.

She nodded, knowing this was going to be the most delicious pizza she was ever going to eat.

~

“What is daddy thinking?” She asked when she noticed his eyes on her, slipping a loose strand of hair behind Bucky’s ear.

“Just thinking about all the things you make me feel, doll.” He smiled, turning his face to kiss her hand before it left his face.

Her face started heating up as she retracted her hand, tingles spreading all over her, “things like what?”

“You make me feel like there’s still good in this world. Like I’m worth patience and kindness and maybe even… love,” Bucky voiced his feelings, eyes dreamy as they watched her pretend to be focused on organizing her stuffies’ seats on the floor.

“You are, daddy,” she replied sincerely, hurting inside that Bucky might doubt this even a little.

“I can’t believe I was so horrible to you, doll.” Bucky’s sigh came out hot from his chest, holding so much regret.

“That’s in the past, daddy. Doll doesn’t think about it no more.” She smiled, her littler hand covering his own lovingly before giving a soothing squeeze.

“You’re just perfect, aren’t you?” Bucky held her hand up and gave the back of it a noisy kiss.

She laughed, face heating up more at the sweet attention, “no body’s perfect, remember?”

Bucky tried to continue laughing with her but he was still kicking himself for what he did to her during her visit to his house.

“How did you even tolerate me back then, doll? I was the worst.” Bucky covered his face with his hands as he threw his head back, laying on his back on the floor full of shame.

“That’s not true. You just misunderstood me and that happens!” She was quick to defend him, refusing the idea that he would even criticize himself, “daddy is the best.”

“I know, but it still gave me no right to treat you the way I did.” Bucky’s eyes teared up at the memories of his very mean words and actions, “I made you cry a lot.” He struggled to forgive himself for that one.

“Daddy, I forgave you, I swear,” she promised, her hands cradling his full cheeks.

She felt like her heart might stop from sadness if Bucky was to cry right now.

“I’m really sorry. I’m really really sorry, doll.” Bucky’s eyes were sincere, holding so much emotion in them that she felt her own begin to fill up with tears.

“Daddy, you don’t need to apologize no more,” she whispered, doing her best to hold back tears.

“You have made me the luckiest man on earth by accepting me as your caregiver, your daddy, and you’ve taught me so much, doll.” Bucky actually started crying, a lot of held-inside feelings coming out at once.

“Daddy.” Her thumb wiped under his eyes gently as she felt her own tears roll down, “don’t say stuff like that”.

“But I need to. Because you did. You taught me unconditional love and acceptance. You taught me what it means to live again. Doll, your patience with my terribleness has taught me that maybe I’m not a hopeless case after all, and that this shell of a man with a metal arm might be capable of things he thought have been wiped from his memory long ago.”

“Daddy, please stop crying,” she sobbed, pressing her forehead to his chin as her attempts at wiping his tears away have proven to be futile.

“I love you so much, doll. I love you with every old bit of me and if you’ll have me…”

“Daddy?” she raised her head, eyes on Bucky’s face, trying to read his expression.

Could Bucky really be asking what she thought he was asking?

“Doll, I want you to be my baby for more than just a few days. Would you give me that honor? Would you let me be your daddy for real?”

“Daddy, are you sure?” she nervously bit her lip.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything before.” Bucky promised.

She nodded frantically, afraid the offer might disappear if she took too long to respond, “yes.”

“Thank you, doll.” Bucky breathed as he pulled her to him, strong arms engulfing her in a protective hug.

“Daddy will not regret it later?” her eyes watched him, a small hint of doubt still tainting her trust.

“Do you like the moon, doll?”

“Yes.” She tilted her head, not understanding the relation between her question and Bucky’s answer.

“You know how our sky only has one moon?”

She nodded.

“My heart is just like that. It can only have one doll no matter how much time passes.”

“Oh.” She sniffled, trying to hold the tears in.

“I love you, doll.” Bucky gave her hair a long kiss.

“I love you, daddy.” She kissed his chest, her arms tightening their hold around him as best as she could, never wanting to be away from him again.

And she wasn’t going to be. Bucky was an idiot who let her go once; never again was he going to make that mistake.

He was blessed with her now and he was going to spend every day of his life proving he was worthy of this blessing.

~

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[chukys-mouthguard]

7 minutes in heaven with matt 🙄🙄🙄 But you’re the awkward wall flower that’s minds there business and it’s definitely not your setting at a party that your friend dragged you to and you end up getting pushed into the closet with him after spin the bottle or u chicken out and just end up making out on the washroom seee yaaa.

kiss me i dare you

1.9k words

genre: fluff

request: yes

featuring: matt rempe x female reader

note: happy birthday to the angel baby that is matthew rempe, I’ll be taking a shot or two in his honor tonight 😘

How the hell did you end up here?

You knew coming to this party was not a good idea, but somehow your best friend convinced you. Wanting to have an exit strategy in case her plans of chasing her crush didn’t end well.

The plan was to try and keep to yourself, hide off in the corner if you had to, and hope the time passed quickly. But that plan flew out the window the moment your friend drunkenly pulled you into the circle for a game of 7 minutes in heaven. Rolling your eyes at the idea of such a childish game that was clearly just a way for a bunch of twenty somethings to have the excuse to make out without seeming too forward and just making a move on someone randomly.

Despite your protests, the game started and you were now a part of it. The rules were simple: spin the bottle and whomever it lands on is who you have to head off into the closet with for 7 minutes.

Watching the group, you noticed how everyone was eyeing one another. Trying to figure out who they’d most want to land on, and who they didn’t. You simply kept your eyes on the bottle, disinterested and hoping that somehow you’d make it out of the game without having to participate.

“Not a fan of party games?”

The low and husky voice of the boy sitting next to you caught you off guard, making you jump as you looked away from the bottle to catch his gaze.

“How could you tell?”

The two of you slightly laughed as he reached into a cooler that sat open next to him, cracking open a seltzer before he handed it to you.

“Well for starters, the moment you walked in you already looked ready to walk right back out the door. And, you haven’t had a sip of anything all night. Not quite sure how anyone could put up with a party like this without alcohol.”

Taking the can from his hand you took a few sips, noticing the smile on his face. Clearly proud of himself as if he’d cracked your hard exterior a bit and got you to loosen up.

“I’m Matt by the way.”

“Y/n.”

He smiled as he held out his beer can, cheersing your seltzer as you two watched the game continue. More and more pairings heading off for their 7 minutes, though you’d now come to realize that no one was keeping track and this was more of a game to find someone to hook up with for the night.

As the circle got smaller and smaller, it was now your turn to spin the bottle. Looking at your options that remained, you could only hope it would land on Matt. At least you’d gotten to know him briefly before you’d be expected to shove your tongue down his throat.

As the bottle spun in circles, your heart raced. Matt noticing how nervous you had become, he decided to try and help make the game a little easier on you.

“Oh shit are there cops here?!”

Matt pointed to the front window, causing those around to all quickly turn their heads. While the crowd was distracted he grabbed the bottle, stopping it to face himself. Shooting you a wink before everyone turned back around.

“Sorry guys, must’ve just been car lights. False alarm!”

Putting his hands up apologetically, he then looked to the bottle. “Oh shit, guess you’re stuck with me then huh?”

Rolling your eyes at the shit eating grin he had plastered on his face, you stood up and headed off down the hall. Matt stumbling behind you as he tried to catch up, bumping through the crowd.

“This fine?”

He shrugged as he walked inside, waiting for you to join him before closing the door. You sighed as you looked around, trying to distract yourself from the point of you being there in the first place.

“Look, let’s just get one thing straight, I’m not sleeping with you.”

Matt cackled as he found a box to sit on, earning a disgruntled look from you. “What?”

“I wasn’t expecting you to sleep with me. Hell, I honestly didn’t even expect you to come in here and kiss me.”

Taking offense to his reaction, you immediately wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling embarrassed for thinking that maybe he was a decent guy. That he’d actually wanted the bottle to land on him. Instead, it seemed as though he was loving the opportunity to embarrass you and laugh that you actually thought he was interested.

“If you rigged the game just to laugh at me, or make fun, I would’ve rather you let me get stuck with some other prick from that circle.”

As you tried to head for the door, ready to get the hell out of there and leave the party altogether, Matt quickly stepped in front of you.

“Okay wait…I’m not making fun or laughing at you. I said those things because, I knew you weren’t into the game. And to be honest, I just wanted a chance to get to know you. To talk to you away from the party and everything. So yeah, I rigged the game. But not to get a quick make out session, or to try and sleep with you. That was the absolute last thing on my mind.”

Taking a step back from the door, a soft smile on your lips, you found yourself a box to sit on, signaling to Matt you weren’t trying to escape anymore.

“Okay then, you’ve got me away from the party. What now?”

Matt smiled as you finally seemed to be letting your guard down a bit, feeling more comfortable away from the party being able to sit and talk. No alcohol being shoved in your face or crazy drinking games where you were being forced to participate.

“To be honest, I didn’t think this far ahead for anything to talk about.”

The two of you laughing at Matt’s buzzed brain fog, simply enjoying the time away from the party. Occasionally asking one another something random that came to mind.

“I have an idea. Since you loveeee party games so much!”

Rolling your eyes you shot him a glare, earning a chuckle from Matt as he sipped that last bit of his beer.

“Truth or dare?”

A scoff leaving your lips as you crossed your arms, soon realizing he was serious and figuring you had nothing to lose at this point. He’d already gotten you to relax and actually smile at this party. Something you had not expected upon arrival.

“Truth.”

“Why did you come tonight anyways if you’re not interested in any of this stuff? Or like trying to hook up with someone? Cause that’s usually how these parties go.”

“Oh so you come to parties like this to hook up with girls? Got it!”

Playfully winking at him, Matthew chuckled as he awaited your answer. “Well I didn’t volunteer to come. I was dragged here by my friend who is chasing some guy who she’ll probably sleep with and then end up heartbroken when she realizes he just wanted a hook up.”

Matt nodded as he could relate, “Yeah, I’m usually just here to play wingman for the guys. Not much of the hookup type. I honestly only jumped in the game to try and get a chance with you. Like, a chance to talk, not anything sexual or whatever.”

You laughed as he quickly turned red, not sure if it was embarrassment or the alcohol.

“Talk to me? Why?”

“Well, you’re beautiful for starters. You didn’t seem like every other girl walking around here hammered and looking for a guy. I don’t know, you took me by surprise and I wanted to know more. You intrigued me.”

You watched as he counted on his fingers all the compliments he was paying you, a blush coming across your lips as you surprised to hear the things he was saying. Having fully assumed he was just another asshole guy getting drunk at a party just looking for a hook up.

“Well thank you, happy to know I intrigued you. Especially in an establishment as fine as this one, it’s probably hard to pick just one person in the crowd that’s intriguing.”

Matt laughed, enjoying your sense of humor and appreciating that he was breaking down your exterior a bit more.

“Exactly! See, I knew I wanted to get a chance to know you. Cute and a sense of humor, what more could a guy want.”

The two of you sat and talked for another twenty or so minutes, fully abandoning the 7 minutes in heaven that was the original intention of going into the closet. Enjoying the time away from the party to talk and avoid the crowded rooms and loud music.

The buzzing of your phone in your pocket pulling you from the conversation, seeing a text from your friend letting you know she’d left the party with the guy she was chasing. Abandoning you with no ride, Matt sensing something was up based on your reaction.

“Everything okay?”

“My friend left with her dream man, and now I’m without a ride home.”

Sighing as you stood up, figuring you’d try your luck with an Uber, Matt figured he’d try his luck at saving the day.

“Or I could drive you?”

Shooting him a questioning look as you glanced at the empty beer can sitting next to him, you shook your head.

“No way, you’ve been drinking. I’ll just call an Uber.”

“I pinky promise, I haven’t had a sip of beer in almost an hour. I would never put you in harms way, and Ubers aren’t the safest thing in the world for young ladies all alone.”

Rolling your eyes you held out a pinky to him, “you swear Matt?”

“Pinky promise, cross my heart and hope to, well I’d say die, but let’s say get you home safe and sound instead!”

The two of you laughing as you headed out and through the house, Matt leading the way to his car that was parked down the street. Opening the door for you before he jumped in himself, popping your address into his phone.

The drive was filled with continued conversation, the two of you laughing at Matt’s bad jokes and funny party stories. And before you knew it, he was pulling up to your apartment. A bit of sadness washing over you as you didn’t want to bid him farewell.

“Truth or dare?”

Matt looked at you confused as you sat in the passenger with a smile on your face. “What?”

“I never got to ask you, so truth or dare?”

He shrugged his shoulders as he chuckled, “ummm, dare?”

“I dare you to kiss me.”

His eyes went wide as he looked at you, as if he didn’t understand the words you said.

“What?”

“Oh are you scared of a little dare? Scared of a kiss Matt?”

As you laughed and mocked him with stereotypical chicken noises, he shook his head. Soon enough he closed the distance between the two of you, his lips finding yours catching you off guard. His hand resting on your cheek as he slowly pulled away. A smile on his face as you were still a bit shocked he actually did it.

“Definitely not scared of a little dare.”

[wandaslittlelove]

can you make Agatha and rio fighting for s/n's heart on the road? (Based on lay all your love on me

Lay All Your Love On Me.

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x reader, Rio Vidal x reader Warnings: None Song - Lay all your love on me by ABBA

I wasn't jealous before we met

Now every woman I see is a potential threat

And I'm possessive, it isn't nice

You've heard me saying that smoking was my only vice

When you and Agatha first met it was a year before the whole Westview incident you were confused to say the least. You had heard of the witch killer before. The woman who went around sucking the power and life out of those that got too close. So it confused you when you two had become friends and she had never once tried to take your magic. What was worse was the Jealousy and possessiveness that came along with her. Anyone that looked your way was glared at and told off. It became suffocating. When she had gotten trapped within the hold of Wanda’s magic you were a bit relieved. You missed her considering you didn’t have many friends (especially since she scared most of them away) but you had freedom now. You could do what you wanted without her constantly bombarding you with questions of where you were and who you were hanging out with.

But now it isn't true

Now everything is new

And all I've learned has overturned

I beg of you

The witches road is where you found yourself now though. Back in Agatha’s possessive hold. She wouldn’t let any of the other witches near you and always kept you within an arm's reach. 

When they called upon a green witch though Agatha became more possessive. Rio, the green witch, had crawled out of the hole where you all had buried Sharon and offered you a flower with the words “For you, M’lady.” Before you could even grab the flower though Agatha had ripped it out of her hands and went to lunge at her but was held back by the rest of the coven. Agatha ripped you away from the group as she angrily stomped forward. 

“Don’t go wasting your emotions on her. She’s incapable of feeling.” She turned suddenly taking your chin into her hand and forcing you to look up at her “Lay all your love on me”

It was like shooting a sitting duck

A little small talk, a smile, and baby I was stuck

I still don't know what you've done with me

A grown-up woman should never fall so easily

Rio thought getting you away from Agatha would be more difficult. But turns out all it took was for the teen to almost die. She was sitting next to you with your legs barely touching. She softly tucked a flower behind your ear and watched you smile. The smile seemed to light up her whole world. Caused her blackened heart to beat faster. Rio wasn’t sure how it had happened but she was falling for you so quickly.

I feel a kind of fear

When I don't have you near

Unsatisfied, I skip my pride

I beg you, dear

When Agatha came back to sit with the rest of the group she had motioned for you to come over to her but Rio had wrapped an arm tightly around you keeping you in place. She didn’t know how to describe it but the thought of you being away from her sent a shot of panic into her being. She was scared she’d lose you. Pulling you to stand she pulled you to a small clearing on the road gripping your waist tightly.

“Don’t go sharing your devotion sweetheart. You won’t like the outcome” She whispered into your ear threateningly. She moved one of her hands onto your face and moved so that you could feel her lips brushing against yours “Lay all your love on me” Just as she was about to lean in, Agatha appeared behind you ripping you out of her grasp.

“What did I tell you about wasting your emotion on her sweet thing?” Agatha said sickeningly sweet. Rio glared at the woman behind you as she went to reach for you.

“She knows where her devotion lies.” Agatha only chuckles at Rio’s words the two woman each had their hands on you attempting to pull you away from the other. What have you gotten yourself into?

Don't go wasting your emotion

Lay all your love on me

Don't go sharing your devotion

Lay all your love on me

[moonstruckme]

i love poly! Marauders♡

could you make a one shot where the reader gives the boys flowers and handmade gifts for the first time after their first month of relationship?

xoxo

Ugh yes our boys don't get enough gifts! Thanks for requesting gorgeous :)

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

When Sirius answers the door to the apartment he shares with his boyfriends to find you standing there with a bouquet of flowers, he very nearly panics. Naturally, his first thought is of the worst-case scenario: someone else has gotten you flowers, and you’ve decided to break it off with them and be with that fucker. Alternatively, you’re upset that they haven’t gotten you flowers in nearly a week (would those ones have died already? Sirius knows next to nothing about flowers; Remus is supposed to stay on top of that) and have brought an arrangement for them to give you as a not-so-gentle-nudge. He might be sick.

But you’re not deserving of the snappy response that comes to his lips, so Sirius swallows and tries to find his gentlest voice. “Hey there, gorgeous. What’re those for?”

You grin until your cheeks dimple, flushing in the way Sirius has grown familiar with over the past few weeks: you’re excited, but a bit embarrassed to show it. “Happy one-month anniversary,” you say, extending the bouquet to him as James and Remus come into the room behind him, intrigued by what’s keeping their boyfriend so long at the door. Your eyes dart between the three of them in that nervous way of yours as you explain in a rush, “I know it’s silly, but I’ve just been wanting to give you all gifts for a while now, and no one’s birthday is coming up for months.”

“Thanks, dove.” Remus is the first of them to reply, nudging past Sirius to take the flowers from you. James is grinning so hugely it’s pushing his eyes nearly closed, and Sirius suspects he’s staring at you like you’ve hung the moon. “These are beautiful. It’s a month today, really?”

You nod bashfully. 

“Then shit,” Sirius says, collecting himself, “you’re not silly; we’re ridiculous for forgetting! Come on in, sweet thing.” He grins at you, and when you shy, as you are wont to do, at his brash manner, James takes your hand and encourages you through the doorway. “Do we have some wine or chocolate or something?”

“We do,” Remus replies, disappearing into the kitchen. “And grapes. Are you alright with white wine, dovey?” You hum in affirmation, and Sirius thanks Merlin for his refined boyfriend, without whom he and James would stock the apartment entirely with crisps and pot noodles. 

James takes you to the living room, sitting you beside him, probably not as close as he’d like but wary of making you jumpy. Sirius isn’t so cautious, plopping down next to you so that your legs and hips are squished together simply because he delights in making you flush. 

“Leave off ‘er,” James says defensively, and Remus returns, laying the snacks and refreshments on the table before sitting beside Sirius and encouraging him to lean on his shoulder. Sirius huffs in protest, but goes willingly. 

His problem taken care of, James turns his attention back to you. “Thanks for the flowers, sweetheart,” he says, and Sirius notices that Remus must have found a vase for them while he was in the kitchen. They’re sitting in the center of the coffee table, arranged prettily in water. “You didn’t need to get us a gift, but that’s so lovely of you.” 

You bite your lip, and Sirius knows you have something to say before you say it. “I, um…” you play with your fingers. He wants to take them in his hands, spreading each one between his own. “I’m really glad you like them, but those actually aren’t the gifts I was talking about.” 

Sirius watches as James’ expression turns giddy at the plural there. Gifts. 

You reach into your bag and pull out a pair of gloves. They’re gray, and they look thick, like they’re made out of some sort of knit material. They’re also huge. You extend them to Remus. “I know you can never find ones that fit,” you say hesitantly, “so I’m hoping these might work? I couldn’t measure to get it exactly right, but I think they’re big enough.” 

Remus takes them with something akin to awe in his expression, and Sirius’ mouth goes dry as realization dawns upon him. He’d always thought Remus cut the fingers off his gloves because it looked cool (admittedly, there had been several years when Sirius had copied him for that very reason), but it was because they didn’t fit. His lengthy, slender fingers had to be too long for most gloves. Sirius felt stupid for not realizing it. He glances at James, finding a similar expression of dumbfounded epiphany on his boyfriend’s face. They’d both known Remus for years, and you’d picked up on his plight over the course of a month.

“Did you make these?” Remus breathes, taking the gloves from you gingerly. 

“Mhm,” you nod, proud and sheepish at the same time. “I crocheted them.”

“You…they’re perfect. Thank you, dove.” Remus looks the softest Sirius thinks he’s ever seen him, and he feels like someone’s scooped out his guts and replaced them with syrup. 

“No problem.” Your cheeks dimple as you duck your head, digging through your bag again. This time you emerge with something red, also crocheted, and vaguely rectangular, turning to James.

He looks at you adoringly as he takes it, but it’s clear he’s as clueless about what it is as Sirius feels. 

“It’s a glasses case,” you supply. “I don’t know if you even want one, but you’re always breaking them by knocking them off the nightstand, and I thought maybe it’d help.” You shrink a bit. “Don’t worry about it if you don’t want to use it.” 

“‘Course I’m using it.” James sounds appalled, and he takes your hand in his, squeezing gently until your smile returns. “This is so thoughtful of you, angel. Really, thanks so much. I’m going to use it every night.” 

You grin hugely, all but glowing at his praise, and when you turn back to your bag, and Sirius is almost surprised there’s still one left for him. As if sitting here, basking in the happiness of all the people he cares about most, isn't enough of a gift. 

Still, that doesn’t mean he’s not curious what it is. 

You pass him a small pouch, and you’ve made it purple with a black star in the middle. Sirius loves it without knowing what it’s for. Hell, he doesn’t even care if it has a utility, he wants to frame it on his wall. 

“I know you drop your earbuds a lot,” you say, “so I thought maybe you could put them in here sometimes, to protect them. I put little loops on it in case you want to carry it or attach it to something, but you could just keep it in your pocket, if you want.” 

Sirius takes his earbuds out from his pocket, slipping them into the little case, and they fit perfectly inside. He grins at you, and when you smile back, the corners of your eyes crinkling, his restraint snaps. He lunges for you, wrapping one arm around your shoulders and cradling your head with the other hand. His heart aches, and it's as much for the thoughtfulness and care you put into his own gift as it is for the joy you’ve given to Remus and James. He doesn’t think his heart can handle carrying around this much love. “Thank you,” he murmurs into your hair, and your arms come around his middle, squeezing tight. 

He takes his time in releasing you, but when he does you’re immediately captured by James, who kisses the side of your face haphazardly. Remus has gone mute beside him, but Sirius suspects both boys are feeling overcome by the same desperation to express their appreciation as he is. He doesn’t think they’ll ever get close. 

“Fucking one-month anniversary,” he says, and he sounds breathless even to his own ears. “I hope you’ve kept the night free, gorgeous, because now you have to let us take you out to dinner.”

[daryltwdixon]

Double Lines

a requested one shot

"Hi it's me lol my request is Daryl and fem reader are a couple and they finally decided to try for a baby. When Rick returns he is proud of Daryl for everything he's done with the group as well as being a father figure to Judith and can't believe he's finally a father to his own kid. Just fluff lol up to you if there's a pregnancy loss or not in their journey to try to conceive, baby gender is up to you. Names for baby are DJ (Daryl Jr) or Elizabeth after Beth since she was your close friend as well as Daryl's 🖤🖤" @twistedprincess-92

fluffy, pregnancy, gentle Daryl, fem reader.

Daryl has his arms wrapped around you as you stand in the bathroom together. The tile flooring is cold under your bare feet, but that’s not the only thing bringing goosebumps to your skin. He’s kissing your cheeks and lips, then to your nose and temple.

“Whatever it is, I love you,” he whispers against your ear. 

You smile and tuck your face into his neck. Praying, pleading, for once to see that double line. Before you made it to Alexandria, you were terrified of an accidental pregnancy. The thought of bringing a baby into this world terrified you, even though Judith had done so well. But her early years were hard. For her and the group. Daryl was just as scared as you were about pregnancy–maybe more from the fear of losing you. So when you both settled into Alexandria, the idea of a life outside of the apocalypse crept in more and more each day. You kept picturing a stumbling toddler running out to greet Daryl when he came home, what songs you would sing them to bed with, or how soft their cheeks might be. What a mini Daryl might look like, or a little girl who looked just like you might be like. Every day when you sat on your front porch, having coffee and quality time when Daryl was around, you’d picture him or her in his lap. Their eyes would be just like his, so icy blue like the first frost of winter. Their smile would be a mirror of yours, maybe with dimples or none. When you brought the idea to Daryl he was nervous at first, but he knew how much safer you both felt here. There was medicine, doctors, support to help during birth. One night, after a particularly long love making, you confessed to Daryl your thoughts. He had been worried at first, the natural panic of the past few years coming to him. But after assuring him of everything around you, how good Alexandria was for both of you, he finally agreed. That night, you spent many hours interlocked with him. It was one of the most beautiful nights with him, where you finally felt like something was happening for the better. Since then, he’s held you closer and closer when he hugs you. He pulls you into more kisses, his arms always finding your waist. He brings you flowers almost every day, never leaving the vase on your dining table empty.

Today you had told him, in a shaky voice, that your period was two weeks late. Every day since your period was supposed to be here, you just kept telling yourself it’s the stress–something hormonal. You knew there were reasons a period wouldn’t come. You’d had so many scares with Daryl because you were both starving and it was natural for a period to be missed due to the lack of nutrition. So you got used to making excuses for it. But Alexandria was…safe. It was home. So you finally decided to just tell Daryl, but you didn’t want to get your hopes up. His eyes were like saucers when you came to him. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen him like that before. He immediately ran from you, and at first you were nervous you scared him away, that he needed to go out for a hunt to clear his mind. But instead, he came back quickly with a small, rectangular box. He pulled the pregnancy test from it, holding it out to you.

“Together,” he said. All you could do was fall into him for a sweet embrace. 

So you find yourselves together here in the bathroom now. Waiting for those double lines. 

“I love you,” you whisper into his neck.

He pulls you back, bringing your face up to his, kissing you deeply. He didn’t need words to tell you how much he loved you. His actions always spoke so much louder. When you come out of your kiss, your eyes naturally peek over to the test on the counter, and a gasp escapes from you.

There’s two bright pink lines across the tester.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s so funny, almost like deja-vu. You remember picturing this exactly nine months ago. Sitting on your porch, sipping coffee, watching Daryl with your child. Except instead of one, there were two. Yes, twins. When you found out both of you nearly fainted, the news was almost too much for your frayed pregnancy nerves. But now, seeing Daryl with his closed eyes on the porch swing, two babies laying sound asleep on him during a contact nap was the most magical thing you could ever want or need. You look over to the street from a bit of motion in the corner of your eye, and you see Rick walking over, Judith in hand. She’s walking over, blabbing about something in her toddler talk. He is smiling down at her, nodding and answering back. When he looks up and catches you watching, he lifts his free hand into a wave. You smile and wave him to come up to the porch steps. As he and Judith approach, you begin to stand. 

“Stay, stay,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss your cheek, “you must be tired,” 

“How are you doing? Hi Judith,” you say softly, your eyes twinkling at the little one.

“We’re doin’ real good,” he says, “right Judy?”

“HI!” she says loudly, still not exactly used to using her ‘inside voice’, stirring Daryl out of his nap. The babies squirm on him, but he lays still, bringing his arms up around them tighter. 

“Wow,” Rick says, watching Daryl. He’s shaking his head lightly, his eyes full of love.

“Thought I couldn’t do it?” Daryl says hoarsely with a smirk. Judith comes over to him to stare at one of the babies laying closest to her. 

“No,” Rick says softly, shaking his head, “I knew you’d be amazing. You’ve always been good with the kids, Dare. I’m just…” he trails off, his throat bobbing, “I’m just real’ proud of you. How far we’ve all come,” he looks over to you now, his eyes misty. You give him a sad smile, reaching your hand out to hold his, squeezing tightly for a moment before dropping it again.

“You’ve done so much for us–for everyone. I’m real’ happy that you finally get to have this.” he finishes, leaning over, putting his hand on his chosen brother’s shoulder. Daryl stares at him intently, and nods genuinely. 

“What’re their names?” Judith asks loudly. The baby closest to her opens his eyes, “Uncle Daryl? What are the babies’ names?” she asks again, impatient. 

“This one here, J, is DJ. For Daryl Junior,” he smiles softly, touching DJ’s soft cheeks with the pads of his fingers.

“Wow, so he’s Daryl and you’re Daryl?” she says quizzically. Her face scrunched up in confusion. 

“Tha’s right,” he says, meeting your eyes with a twinkle in his, he looks down at the other baby, still snoozing softly on him, “and this here is Elizabeth,” he says quieter now. He looks back up at Rick, a sad smile on his face. Rick returns it, and crouches down next to Judith, “that’s a beautiful name, huh, J? Tell Uncle Daryl what a nice name that is,” 

She giggles, putting her fingers in her mouth and smiling, “I like it,”

“Surprised you didn’t say one of their names was Ass Kicker,” Rick smiles widely and you all laugh at the memory.

You and Daryl had decided the names early on, knowing you wanted to honor his lost friend Beth Greene. She was so gentle and good hearted. He missed her, and you knew it would mean the world to him to name his child after her. DJ was the harder one to get Daryl to sign off on–he wasn’t exactly the biggest fan of his own name. He thought it was silly to name his son after himself. 

“We’ll call him DJ for short–that way you won’t think about it,” you joked one afternoon. 

He had taken a long pause, working on his motorcycle in the garage, tinkering with something in the engine. You had come by, hobbling over with your large belly to bring him lunch. He tended to forget to eat during the long hours he spent in the garage with his bike, and you liked visiting him during the day. When he saw you, he ran up to you to pull the stool he had in the shop under you. You sighed as you sat, and he kissed your temple as you took the weight off your swollen feet. He took the lunch from you with a small ‘thanks, baby’.

“So…?” you say breathlessly. You were getting so tired of being winded by walking 20 feet these days.

“DJ, huh?,” he finally said, “alright,” and that was that. Life had finally slowed down. You felt like everything that had happened between the two of you, the sacrifices that had to be made, the things that kept you up at night–had finally been worth it. You were safe, Daryl was safe. And now you had a beautiful family that was safe. It was all you could ever want and need.

[stargirlrchive]

all those years ago ✩ jake sully

masterlist ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

summary: atwow!jake sully x female!reader, insecurites, lowkey whiney jake (i need him bad), jealousy, fluff, cute stuff <3

word count: 1,113

syulang (n) - flower

comments: y'all i kind ate w/ this one. <3 tbh i think it is my favorite one so far, literally cannot wait to post it so it is going up now. i also posted a neteyam fic a few hours ago, pls check it out baes, it is so cute, okay bye! ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Jealousy began to bubble in the center of Jake’s stomach, slowly gnawing and tugging at his patience. His eyes were locked onto your face as you crouched down next to a young Na’vi warrior. Your arms were on his back, applying slight pressure to straighten him out. Your other hand ran down his arm to angle it better, you tapped his back and he pulled back, letting his fingers loosen on the bow and the arrow went flying, straight into the thick trunk of the tree. You both stood quickly, tails swishing with excitement, the young boy had clearly landed the target shot.

“Good job, Ìkom. You are getting better everyday!”

Jake began to slowly approach the two of you, as if he was trying not to get caught. You both knew he was there. “It is all thanks to you Tsahìk, you are an excellent teacher!”

A low growl slipped from Jake’s throat, and he knew you heard it. Your ears twitched and you tilted your head slightly in his direction. Your eyebrows furrowed together and confusion littered your features. “Ma’Jake, is everything alright?”

“Everything is fine, Syulang.”

There was a bite to his tone, one you could not easily pinpoint but it put you on edge. You turned to look at your mate but his eyes were locked onto the young man. Ìkom was in his own world, happily sharpening the arrows he had brought with him to your training.

Your tail swished, pupils slightly dilated as you watched Jake approach the two of you. You weren't even sure how it was possible but he looked taller as he towered in front of you, chest pressed against you. He looked as though he was going to pounce on the poor boy and your hand reached out to still him. Your fingers pressed into his stomach and you felt the muscles tense, flexing under the warmth of your hand.

It seemed like he was snapped out of the cloud of jealousy as his eyes dropped down to your face. They visibly softened and his shoulder caved in, almost in defeat. A twinge of discomfort nestled onto your chest to see your mate's ego take a blow. Your hands had reached out to wrap around his waist and you pulled him in, “Ìkom, we are done for the day. Olo'eyktan and I have quite a lot of things to do today. We will resume in a few days.”

You did not even turn to look at him as Jake’s head fell to tuck into your neck. Your breath hitching as he placed feather light open kisses. “Oh-yes of course, Tsahìk. Olo'eyktan Sully.”

You heard his steps get farther and hissed as Jake lightly bit down on your neck, soothing the sting with a gentle swipe of his tongue. You whined his name out and threaded your fingers to his hair, pulling his head from your neck. “You are going to leave a mark.”

“That is what I want to do, Syulang.”

The use of the affectionate name made you flutter, it was sweet unlike earlier. “What was that about?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” His face however was twisted up in a look you were not familiar with, you wanted to sooth the lines on his forehead. “You were practically going to strangle the boy. What’s wrong?”

The bruise to his ego seemed to heal a bit as you referred to Ìkom as a boy. He huffed out in exasperation, embarrassment seeped into him, mumbling a response that you could not make out as his head went to dip back into your neck. As sympathetic as you were with your mate, you were growing agitated as he closed himself off.

Your hands dropped from his back, pulling yourself away from him. He whined lowly and brought you back to him, “I want you close to me.”

Your hands landed again on his stomach and he slightly inched his torso away from you. “You want me close to you yet you inch away. You are confusing me.”

He let out a deep breath through his nose and closed his eyes, “I was jealous.”

You felt a jolt run through you, heat spreading all along your body. “You were jealous? Of Ìkom?”

“Do not mention that boy's name to me.”

A small giggled slipped from your throat as your hands landed on his hips, pulling him closer and then you let your hand caress his stomach again. “Skxawng.”

He refrained from tensing in your arms, even though he’d never admitted it he felt an insecurity at how his body had changed after all these years. “Something else is bothering you, Ma’Jake. Tell me how I can help you.”

Your face nuzzled into his gently, peppering small kisses along his jaw as your hand gently ran your fingers down his stomach. Small shapes were rubbed into his stomach and he let out a shaky breath. “I-I feel embarrassed, so much has changed since we first met, I do not look the same, my Syulang. Seeing you so close to him-it upset me.”

His ears twitched downwards, and your hand stilled on his stomach, “You have nothing to worry about.” Your lips pressed a kiss right in between his throat, his tail swished softly at the pressure and he tried to contain the heat spreading all over his body, you were making it very difficult. “I still think you are as beautiful as the first time I saw you.”

His heart fluttered and pulled you in closer, your lips pressed tiny kisses all the way up to his lips, “Besides we are parents now, have been for 15 years, I would expect us to change.”

Your hands lightly dug into his stomach and a low hiss left his mouth at the pressure, “And I think it is quite-what is that you say-sexy?”

His tail thumped wildly against the floor, cheeks burning a dark maroon as he pressed his lips to yours. Mumbling nonsense into your lips as you giggled quietly, pulling away from him as your hands reached out to cup his face. “I like you this whiney.”

He groaned as his head fell back, feeling all his worries melt away as your fingers tangled into his. “Are you okay now, Toruk Makto?”

He nodded and tried to calm the beating of his heart, you felt so drunk off the words that fell from your mouth, a surge of confidence flowing through him again as you tugged him along deeper into the forest. Suddenly he was back in time, feeling like a young Na’vi as he trailed after you helplessly, just like all those years ago.