#i would rather spend one lifetime with you than face all the ages of this world alone

[atdawn]

I would rather spend one lifetime with you than face all the ages of this world alone.

[miss-carter]

STEGGY APPRECIATION WEEK day 5: inspired by ↬ "For mine is the choice of Lúthien, and as she so have I chosen, both the sweet and the bitter." - JRR Tolkien

[maxlarens]

hi lilli!! i heard angst and i came running, how about searching for each other in crowded rooms, finding each other everywhere with logan or oscar, whoever sparks the most inspo, but plot twist—not being able to be together for some reason (the why is totally up to you, feel free to ignore if this isn't your cup of tea). thank u thank u <3

kait!!! hello!!! thank u for sending this in!!! im gonna do oscar 😁 it genuinely hurt my feelings SO BADLY to not have them make up at the end of this. so i sympathise with everyone that im about to make sad it was a bad time for me too❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

It's familiar, this feeling.

The squeeze of your chest, the grieving, panicking thing climbing up your throat. You've been feeling it a lot lately, every time you catch a glimpse of someone with hair the same colour as Oscar's; wearing clothes you swear that he has; a person with the same shoulders, the same gait.

You've been seeing him everywhere. You just think you have. Monaco is small… not that small apparently.

When it had first happened, at the beginning of summer break, you’d half expected to be back together within a week. For Oscar to message you and half-beg to talk to you again. In your dreams, you’d both come grovelling back to each other, apologising for cruel words, making amends for various mistakes. Then you would kiss him and you’d tell him how much you love him and things would get better.

Instead, you’ve spent weeks of your summer break totally and utterly miserable. Missing Oscar like a phantom limb. You reach for him, he’s not there. You go to text him, find a thread of messages discussing the logistics of returning the other’s belongings.

You sit in your flat and you watch the Lord of the Rings trilogy twice in a row twenty two hours and forty-four minutes because it doesn’t remind you of Oscar and it occupies your time in a way nothing else can right now. You cry until your eyes are puffy and you write in a diary you’ve never touched before, because it needs to go somewhere. The feeling stuck in your throat needs to be written down said out loud and you can’t say it to Oscar, who you would usually tell everything, because he needs “distance from you right now”.

Briefly, you convince yourself that “right now”, indicates that there still might be a later for the two of you. That this thing between you that’s fallen to pieces might one day be salvaged. In the quiet moments of Lord of the Rings you spiral down a rabbit hole of ways to get Oscar back, pathetic fantasies of how you might convince him to talk to you again. Then Arwen says, “I would rather share one lifetime with you than face all the ages of this world alone” and you cry for two hours straight.

You sob, your face in your pillow and you think that was supposed to me! That was supposed to be us! And maybe it wasn’t, maybe you’re not an elven maiden giving up her immortality for a mere man, but you love Oscar. You wanted to spend the rest of your life with Oscar. And now… now…

Well—

It is the waiting that’s the worst.

No texts, no calls. Lando sends you a few, but you can’t bear to hold a conversation with him, knowing he’s playing both sides. And anyway, you’re just thinking about Oscar. Is he there? Is he reading your texts? Seeing the pathetic selfies of you on your couch in days-old PJs? Is he staring at your stagnant text thread just like you are? Has he blocked you?

Your every waking thought is consumed by him. You drag yourself out of the apartment for coffee down the street and you wonder what he’s doing. Has he been rotting at home like you? More than likely he’s been doing things. Playing padel with Lando, going out for lunch, training at the gym, FaceTiming his family.

You feel sick to you stomach. You can list on one hand the activities that you’ve done since Oscar broke up with you at the beginning of the month:

Sleeping, crying, watching Lord of the Rings, ordering takeout, training because you have to. Going for coffee had been a big step out of your current comfort zone. You’re wearing pants that aren’t sweatpants… you’d even showered properly for fuckssake.

You got your most noise-cancelling headphones on, blasting sad Taylor Swift (who you don’t even like. It’s just something to fill the void) and staring down the barista so you can lip-read if they’re saying your name or the words Large Oat Latte. And then—

Then. The barista is mouthing Oscar and your stomach lurches as the exact object of your ire temporary depression walks to the counter. You try to convince yourself it’s not him, you keep seeing him places but it’s never really him. But it is, that’s his burgundy shirt, his swoop of hair, his knobbly little ankles.

You release a ragged breath that you hope isn’t too loud. You duck your head, try to avoid his gaze as he turns, pretending that you haven’t seen him. Try to look occupied by your phone though you’ve only had time to open to your home screen. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, you blink furiously, trying your best not to fall apart in this coffee shop.

At least he’s not with someone else, you think as a tightness crawls up your throat to settle at the base of your tongue. But he looks happy, he looks fine, he looks better than you feel right now. God, what if he’s better off without you? What does it mean that you don’t seem to better off without him?

There’s something wet sliding down your left cheek and then you see Nike trainers entering your vision, still directed firmly downward. Someone puts a hand on your shoulder— you don’t jump but it’s a near thing. You reach up to slip your headphones off, wiping the tear discreetly as you go. Then you look up and it’s him, it’s Oscar.

He’s holding out a paper cup labeled, Oat Latte and smiling at you tightly.

“They were calling your name,” he says by way of explanation.

“Right,” your voice is shaky, weak, “Thanks.”

He nods, you take the coffee, careful not to touch his hand. You’re trying to swallow down the lump in your throat that’s rising rising trying to claw its way out of your mouth. You blink away the tears filling the corners of your eyes. You can’t look at him.

You’re looking up at the ceiling instead, biting the inside of your mouth. Breathing in and out, in and out.

He says your name, and then, “Do you want to talk?”

You feel like a tonne of bricks has just hit your chest. Knocking the wind out of you. Tears, hot and wet, are slipping down your cheeks. You can’t speak, you turn around and leave the coffee shop without saying anything because surely you’ll just start crying if you open your mouth. Oscar finds you again across the road, in a dark cobbled alleyway. The heel of your hand is pressed to the middle of your chest, you’re hiccuping, trying to stifle heavy sobs that you’d much prefer to let out in the privacy of your own apartment.

“Hey,” he says, gathering you into his arms before you can push him away, “It’s okay.”

You whine, collapsing into his chest, face pressing into his shoulder, “No, it’s not.”

You cry loudly, trying fruitlessly to keep the sobs in. Oscar’s hand rubs comforting circles into your back, which makes it better until you realise it’s Oscar, which makes it immediately worse. You stay there a while. Until your eyes are puffy and your throat sore.

“Better?”, Oscar asks, the crease between his eyebrows prominent.

You sigh tiredly, shrug, “Sure.”

Your coffee is cold now, your chest feels void, hollow.

You shake your head before Oscar can say anything further, before you’re set off on another fucking pathetic crying fit in the arms of your ex-boyfriend, “I can’t talk, Oscar. I really can’t.”

“Okay,” he says, nodding and swallowing some lump in his own throat.

You bite down hard on your tongue. Turn to leave the dark alley to go home, your back prickling with Oscar’s wet brown-eyed stare on you. He lets you leave. You spend the ten minute walk wiping tears before they fall and itching to run back, to kiss him, to pour all the emotion in your chest into some physical action.

There’s an awful grieving ache in your chest that’s carving out your insides and when you check your phone after walking in the door there’s a text from Oscar that reads:

I miss you. I’d really like to talk to you soon.

not sure if it was weird but the lord of the rings Mentions were kinda about how you’re in such a fragile state during a breakup that something as irrelevant to your break up at lord of the rings will make you cry for hours for no real reason. (and not to expose myself but after a break up i did watch the lotr trilogy two times in a row. told my friends and got a text from one of them asking if i was depressed 😭 like yes… temporarily alright)

send me a prompt/req + driver and i'll write something. pls check if my requests are open first 💖

[itadoreyu]

i would rather spend one lifetime with you, than face all the ages of this world alone

thank you to komorebi.art__ for this beautiful art of katsuki and me! i’ve been thinking about him nonstop lately and was bound to commission my first art with him :3 i’m so happy with how this turned out! 🧡💚

[arpmemething2]

Romance Starters

Send one for my muse's response. Feel free to change pronouns as needed.

“I’ve tried so many times to think of a new way to say it, and it’s still I love you.”

"Being with you feels so right."

"I finally found where I belong."

“I love you for all that you are, all that you have been and all that you will be.”

"I dreamt of you last night."

“I saw that you were perfect, and so I loved you. Then I saw that you were not perfect and I loved you even more.”

"To me you are perfect."

Our love is like the wind. I can’t see it, but I can feel it.”

"I want to kiss you."

"You have the most adorable smile."

“If I had to choose between breathing and loving you I would use my last breath to tell you I love you.”

"Your smile makes me melt."

“I need you like a heart needs a beat.”

"If I know what love is, it is because of you."

“If you live to be a hundred, I want to live to be a hundred minus one day so I never have to live without you.”

"I adore you."

"I love smelling you."

“I would rather spend one lifetime with you, than face all the ages of this world alone.”

“To be your friend was all I ever wanted; to be your lover was all I ever dreamed.”

"You make my heart happy."

“The water shines only by the sun. And it is you who are my sun.”

“True love is rare, and it's the only thing that gives life real meaning.”

"You always have the best ideas."

"Your smile brightens my day."

“You know you’re in love when you can’t fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams.”

"Take my hand, take my whole life too. For I can’t help falling in love with you."

"I feel safe around you."

“Come near now, and kiss me.”

”Loving you never was an option. It was a necessity."

“You’re always the first and the last thing on this heart of mine. No matter where I go, or what I do, I’m thinking of you.”

"You are my happily ever after."

“Your hand touching mine. This is how galaxies collide.”

"When I saw you I fell in love, and you smiled because you knew."

"Can we cuddle?"

“True love is putting someone else before yourself.”

"You make my dreams come true!"

"You are perfect."

"Everything I do is for you."

"Thank you for being mine."

"Your voice is my favorite sound."

"I love everything about you."

"I appreciate you."

"The best thing to hold onto in life is each other."

“My soul and your soul are forever tangled.”

"You are so handsome."

"You’re the closest to heaven, that I’ll ever be."

"No one does it like you."

"Adventures with you are my favorite."

”All that you are is all that I’ll ever need."

"When I look into your eyes, I know I have found the mirror of my soul."

"I want to hug you."

”It was love at first sight, at last sight, at ever and ever sight."

“I love you and that’s the beginning and end of everything.”

"It’s always better when we’re together."

"You make me feel like royalty."

"Your eyes are so beautiful."

"I miss your kisses."

"You are so beautiful."

“If I had a flower for every time I thought of you... I could walk through my garden forever.”

[lillaydee]

In Time

Rancher Joel Miller / Reader

You lost your dear Uncle. Your TV Star boyfriend dumped you. You needed a job. You got one at a ranch in Wyoming. Where you met Joel. A very grumpy man. Grumpy man has issues.

WARNINGS:

Grumpy Joel, Hurt Joel, Grieving Joel, Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Joel Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (The Last of Us), Mentions of Hostage Situation and Shooting, Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us), Mutual Pining, Fluff and Angst

SERIES MASTER LIST

---

You waited all morning for him to pick you up, as promised. He insisted that he would. No need to get a car, Sweets. I’ll get the car. I’ll pick you up, we’ll go together. You’re not alone in this, okay? I’ll be there for you Sweets. You know that, right? I love you, Sweets. Benny was like a father to me, too. Of course I will be there. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.

The service was due to start in an hour. He was still not here. He was two hours late. Calls went straight to voicemail. You were supposed to be there already, greeting the guests. Fuck this. You grabbed your purse and keys and left, driving yourself to the service. Who cared if you arrived in your old beater rather than a fancy town car, right? So long as you got there.

The traffic in LA was no joke. Hence the plan to leave three hours before the service. You made it with five minutes to spare. You were ridiculously disappointed in yourself. You fell for his sweet talks again. He was no longer the sweet, dependable, considerate David you met 10 years ago. He was Dave Landon now. Successful, sought after, crazed over. And you were still the same boring old Amelia, the simple vet, who hadn’t fully practiced for the last three years, ever since Benny got sick.

You rushed in, the pews in the small room already filled with Benny’s old friends, mostly his age. You apologized profusely to the proprietor, who kindly waved your apology off, already aware of the reason you were late. You took the opportunity to go to his casket, and studied the face of the man who took you in, raised you as his own, and made you who you were today.

He looked good. He was right. This place would do a good job, he had said, and they really did. He looked his age, not the shriveled old man the disease had turned him into. Your heart ached at the memory of your dashing uncle in his prime, looking like a movie star, picking you up in his fancy car on your first day at school in a strange country, a far too glamourous private school, where you looked like a twelve-year-old, while the other girls looked twenty.

When your own parents died Benny had flown back to the UK overnight, being your only family left. He officially adopted you and took you with him from the small English countryside farm you had grown up in and brought you to LA where he owned an art gallery, to live with him. His partner left him for refusing to give you up, and he never had a serious relationship again. You lost count of the number of times he had shut the door on his ‘friends’ who knocked on his door late at night for a good time just because you were there. His life became about you. He paid for you to get the best education you could get, and you managed to get a degree in veterinary medicine back in the UK, him scheduling his work to coincide with your breaks there so that he could spend as much time with you. The day you graduated he was cheering for you so loudly, his voice alone overpowered the claps and music, his eyes glistening with tears at your success.

So when he got sick, you stopped everything to take care of him. David had landed his role of a lifetime, and had asked you to move in with him, but you refused. How could you when the man who dropped everything for you needed you?

And now, the man was gone. You had never felt so alone before. Your friends were far and wide, but you had focused so much on Benny these three years you hadn’t really kept in touch with most of them. You had hoped that David would be here with you, at least, be your hand to hold, but that had been too much to ask, it seemed.

You bent down, kissed your dear uncle’s cold hands and cheek one last time, and told him you would speak to him every night, like you had always done since your first night here.

“I promise, Benny. I love you.”

---

The service was beautiful. Simple, dignified, just as he had wanted. When everything was cleared, you finally checked your phone, hoping to see a text, an explanation from David, but there was none.

When the two of you met, you two were fresh faced university students, instantly hitting it off. You had always been shy, never having a lot of friends, and even if you did, after graduating, everyone scattered all over. You had chosen to go back to LA, not wanting Benny to be alone. He came with you, chasing his dreams to be an actor.

David worked hard to pursue his acting career, going for audition after audition, getting small roles here and there, working as a waiter in between jobs. During that time, Benny and you had supported him, his own family being as unstable as they were. You ran lines with him for auditions, held his head when he cried from yet another rejection, paid his rent when he ran short. You were there for him.

That first year Benny got sick, he helped you take care of him, taking him to chemo when you were still working, caring for him at home, keeping him company. He held you at night when you came home tired, listened to your stories, laughed at your jokes, cried when you cried. He was there for you, as much as you were for him.

But then, one day, he auditioned for a pilot, which became an instant hit. In a flash, David Trafford became Dave Landon, TV heart throb who played Jerry, a superstar playboy turned clumsy, inexperienced dad who had a baby left on his doorstep. You quit your job to take care of Benny, David coming by when he was available to do so, the frequency lessening quickly as the show became more and more successful.

He had been very respectful of your request for privacy, not wanting your private life to be plastered all over the internet and tabloids. His agent was very happy about this, preferring that he be linked with famous actresses to promote his name. You didn’t mind, you knew the game, and he was very frank with you about it all. So, you managed to stay away from red carpets, limiting your relationship to the privacy of his house and Benny’s, and the odd outings. Taking care of Benny was a full-time job anyway, and he understood.

But as he got more and more famous, free time became less and less. His agent was taking advantage of his fame, booking him for anything and everything within every inch of his life. Still you understood, knowing this was his dream, and you were not going to stand in his way.

You had supported his dream, his career, his passion.

But when Benny died, when your world stopped, he didn’t show.

You were suddenly seething. You had never asked him for anything. And the one time you needed him, he was a no show.

You drove over and unlocked his front door. You turned the corner of his foyer, walking into the music filled kitchen.

Where Cleo, his costar from the show, whom he had always been gossiped with, was cooking.

Naked.

You stood there, not saying anything, until he himself came out of the pantry, also naked, holding a bottle of wine, and saw you.

“What are you doing here, Sweets? Why didn’t you call first?”

Cleo stood behind him, covering her body with his. You had no idea why, it’s not that you hadn’t seen it before. Her nudes, her sex videos were all over the internet.

You kept quiet. You didn’t say anything. You were wondering why you were not feeling anything but anger at the fact that he didn’t show for Benny’s funeral. He quickly put an apron on to cover himself, again, you didn’t know why, it’s not like you hadn’t seen him naked before.

“I swear this is not what it looks like. We were just getting comfortable with each other, for the show. We have a sex scene coming up. That’s all.”

Cleo said nothing. Just stood behind him, eyeing you up and down.

Still you said nothing. He looked flustered now, knowing there was no way out of this, that you knew, the jig was up.

“Sweets, you know I love you; she means nothing to me. It’s just sex. You’re the one I want to spend the rest of my life with.”

Cleo huffed and went off into his room angrily, slamming the door behind her.

Why didn’t you feel anything? You should be angry, right? This was your boyfriend. And you just caught him naked with his costar in his kitchen. A costar who, incidentally, seemed really angry at the fact that ‘she meant nothing’ to him.

He took a step closer to you, and that’s when you saw them. His eyes. He was high.

“You missed Benny’s funeral.”

You turned around to leave.

“Wait! Benny died?”

You stopped and turned, glaring at him. He suddenly looked annoyed, as if you were being unreasonable with him.

“How high are you? How long have you been high? I told you the day it happened. You told me you were coming to take me to the funeral. I waited for you all morning. I almost missed his funeral!”

“Fuck, I’m so sorry Sweets. I don’t remember.”

You turned around, leaving for good. You didn’t have time for this bullshit. You didn’t sign up for this.

“Well what did you expect? You think I’m gonna wait around for you when you put another man and his needs before me? Fuck you, Amy! Fuck you! We’re over! You hear that? I’m breaking up with you! See who will have you now, you boring bitch!”

You slammed the door behind you, leaving this ranting man behind. A man you didn’t know at all, who was not the sweet, caring man you met and fell for years ago.

---

You gave Benny’s house one more look once the boxes had been picked up and the house cleaned. It looked a lot smaller when it’s empty. Funny how that worked. You remember being in complete awe of it all when you first came here. You went to the backyard one last time and laid in the hammock you and Benny had installed together when you first got there, remembering all the time the two of you had done so, talking to the stars. He had you convinced that your parents were among them, and that if you talked to them, tell them your problems, ask them questions, about anything at all, you could always, always hear their replies, and that you would never be alone.

You smiled thinking about the time when he tried to get off the hammock after you had fallen asleep in it during the early days and ended up tipping the hammock over, sending you crashing down to the concrete floor. You broke your arm that night, and Benny carried a sobbing you into the ER shoeless, wearing only his sweatpants screaming for help. He was devastated that he had injured his baby. It took a lot of convincing from you to have him join you in the hammock again, and so much practice getting out of it without tipping anyone over.

You remembered the last week before he passed, where he insisted on lying in the damn hammock with you still, and you helped him lift his frail body into it, just so the two of you could cuddle in it the way you always had. You remembered him falling asleep, his head on your shoulder, telling you he loved you and that being your uncle was his greatest achievement.

He never woke up again.

You caressed his side of the hammock one last time and looked at the stars.

“You’d better be in the stars above Wyoming too, Benny.”

---

You felt like you had been hit by a train. You fell asleep about two hours into the early morning flight and was shaken awake not 10 minutes later. The plane was landing in Jackson Hole shortly. Please put your seat into the upright position, miss, the pretty flight attendant had said to you.

After Benny passed, you were busy taking care of his considerable estate. He had left you everything. You had tried to stay, but you couldn’t help but see him everywhere. The school he used to drive you to, the restaurant he loved, the mural he had liked, the shops he frequented. And at home, you were haunted by his memory. His favourite chair. His slippers. His gown. The breakfast nook. His room. And of course, the hammock.

It also didn’t help that you couldn’t get a job in LA, not that you needed one, Benny’s considerable estate made sure of that. But you just couldn’t stand being idle. Your old workplace didn’t have any vacancies, but your old colleague told you about a year-long job that could be available. It’s a ranch. Their regular vet had to attend to some family matters, and they needed someone to take over for a year. But this ranch was not like the quaint English farm you grew up in or worked at during your Uni days she said, if she remembered correctly from pictures from your Insta. And you had spent almost twenty years in LA. The Tetons during winter was… not quite the English winter you were used to growing up. So, it might be a bit of a challenge, but nothing you couldn’t handle, she said.

You said yes so quickly she laughed and gave you the number to call. “Talk to Tess. She manages the ranch. Tell her I gave you the number.”

And so you called, and Tess was very excited about you coming to fill in, even if you were rusty, having not worked for three years, and had only worked a handful of years before that. Basically you would be taking care of the horses and cows on the ranch, and a few dogs and the likes. The neighbours might call you up for help with their animals too, and they pay you extra for that.

You were worried, you won’t lie. A ranch. But hey, it’s just a year. And you had never lived anywhere that would get proper snow. It didn’t snow much where you grew up, so maybe this would be fun. One year. Good experience. And after that, who knew? Maybe you’ll go back to England. Or move to Asia. Benny had always wanted to do that. Maybe you’ll make his dream come true.

You had sold or donated everything in LA, bringing exactly ten boxes with you to Jackson, mostly books, and four suitcases – Benny’s prized LV ones. He had bought them with his first commission from his first sale at the gallery. You didn’t plan on going back to live in LA, anyway, so might as well make it easy for yourself – easier to bring as little as you can too, considering you were planning on leaving the country after the year was up. The boxes had been sent ahead, and Tess said that someone would be there at the airport to pick you up. Dress warmly, she had warned. And bring plenty of winterwear.

So, you lugged your four suitcases onto a trolley, and pushed. You scanned the arrival hall for your name, but there were none. You pushed the trolley towards the entrance, and when the door opened, you froze.

Literally.

It was fucking freezing.

Shit.

You wrapped your scarf around your neck tighter and kept pushing. You looked around, standing at the area Tess had asked you to wait at, not seeing anyone or any truck that matched the description and photo that Tess had sent you. Just as you were about to call Tess, an old-looking, battered red truck parked right in front of you. The driver took out his phone, looked at something on it, and then you, and got out.

“You Amelia?” he asked.

“Yes?”

“I’m Joel. Tess sent me.”

“Erm, she said someone called Tommy was picking me up. Not Joel.”

He looked annoyed. “Well, he can’t make it. Wife’s not feeling so good. I’m what you’ve got. Are you coming or not?”

You hesitated. This man looked grumpy. And you were not about to get into a truck with a grumpy stranger in a strange place where you knew exactly one person, and that was Tess, who was hundreds of miles away, apparently. You took your glove off your right hand, and dialled Tess’s number, holding a finger up to him. He threw his hands in the air before placing them on his hips, taking a deep, impatient breath, looking like he was about to implode.

You told Tess a Joel was here, claiming she sent him. She laughed and asked you to point the camera at him. Joel rolled his eyes at the camera. Tess told you yep, that’s the grumpy asshole who was going to pick you up. Tommy was supposed to, but his wife was not feeling too well. Sorry, she forgot to text you about it.

Joel started lugging your suitcases, tossing the first one into the back seat.

“Hey! Be careful! That’s my entire earthly possession right there!”

“Doubtful,” he said. “Ten boxes just arrived for you at the ranch. At least lie better.”

“Well, those suitcases mean a lot to me. Please be careful,” you begged. He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like ‘damn city girls’ under his breath, but he did at least place the rest carefully in the back seat. He closed the door and pushed the trolley towards the attendant.

You were feeling like a lost puppet. You didn’t know what to do. Stupid questions filled your brain. Do you get in the truck? Do you sit next to him? Do you take your very puffy jacket that wasn’t doing squat in fending off the cold off? Do you wait and shake his hand? What do you do? It was like your brain decided to stop working. You had just arrived, sleep deprived from the emotional night you had saying goodbye to your life in LA with Benny and how early you had to leave for the airport that morning, got ten minutes of sleep and was greeted by the North Pole and a very grumpy elf.

He came back to the truck and got in. You were still standing there. He opened the door back up and asked if he should open the fucking door for you, Princess? You were startled by his aggression. You went around and tried to open the door, but it was stuck. You pulled and pulled, and finally he gave it a push from the inside and the door flung open, pushing you onto your backside on the fucking freezing road, a passing car narrowly missing you by inches.

He just sat there, staring at you, his lips half curled with an amused smirk.

You got back up as quickly as you could, a bit disorientated from what just happened, and quickly tried to get in. But the truck was high, and you were used to small cars, and had so many layers on, and in your cotton-brained, ouchy-my-buttocks-hurt-like-a-mother state you had trouble climbing up, your petite frame not really helping. He scoffed a not so silent ‘Jesus, city girl’ before he offered his hand for you to take. You stared at him and hoisted yourself in, ignoring his hand.

You pulled the door shut, feeling dangerously close to tears, and avoided looking at him. He took his seatbelt off, scooted towards your side, reached across, opened the door back up and pulled it shut with a slam, the truck wobbling from the force. He buckled himself back up and sat there watching you trying to figure out the seatbelt, which was loose, and looked for the slot in the bench seat, the many layers you had on and the rustling of the puffy jacket getting in your way, your arms feeling stiff and the thick gloves making you less dexterous than you normally were. He impatiently took the seatbelt from you and locked it in, muttering under his breath as he did so before pulling out of the spot.

You glanced at your phone, it was 9 in the morning, you had been here not even an hour, and you were already on the verge of tears, feeling more unwelcomed than you ever did in your entire life. You took a deep breath, and tried again, asking him how long the drive to the ranch would be.

He turned the radio on and upped the volume in response.

You looked out the window, the heated interior of the truck feeling much colder than the cold city outside. You pulled the hoodie of your jacket on so he couldn’t see your face, and leaned on the window, tears silently trickling on your cheek.

What a first fifty minutes to the rest of your next year.

This was clearly a mistake.

---

Part 2

[gavas-world]

I would rather spend one lifetime with you, than face all the ages of this world alone.”

J.R.R. Tolkien

[nevess]

– Fika

[ i would rather share one lifetime with you than face all the ages of the world alone.] -J.R.R Tolkein

🌱… description: Already in a settled relationship, yet a secret to the rest of the galaxy, you and Anakin Skywalker spend a day on Naboo having a picnic and swimming in the lake.

🍵 … warnings: none, all fluff :p

🧳 … character/s: Anakin Skywalker x Reader

☕️ … word count: 1k  ; | date: October 3rd, 2023

🗞️ back to the main menu

a/n: i noticed there are almost none imagines or stories here abt anakin x reader w fluff, so that’s what i’m invested in doing now. istg if i could i would just give this man a hug 😭 Hope you enjoy the short story as much as i did writing it. In other news, im looking for beta readerssss here's the post!

Already in a settled relationship, yet a secret to the rest of the galaxy, you and Anakin Skywalker were surrounded by the lush greenery of Naboo as you spread out a soft blanket by the picturesque lake. Anakin had managed to arrange this peaceful picnic on a rare day off from the Clone Wars. The sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled patterns on the ground as you settled in.

Anakin's eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint as he revealed the contents of the picnic basket he'd brought. "I hope you like these, Y/N,” he said, pulling out a selection of delicious treats from across the galaxy.

You smiled warmly at him, your heart fluttering at the sight of his endearing enthusiasm. "Anakin, this is wonderful.” The words that came out of your mouth were spilled delicately, portraying how grateful you felt to have a moment of peace with him. “You always know how to surprise me."

As you enjoyed your meal together, you couldn't help but steal glances at each other, your hidden affection bubbling just beneath the surface; sharing soft kisses from now and then. Anakin's gloved hand brushed yours as you both reached for a piece of fruit, sending shivers down your spine. It didn’t matter how long you’ve been together, somehow every time you were together you felt more alive.

After the satisfying meal, Anakin suggested to go for a swim, since he described the lake in front of you as inviting.

The lake's crystal-clear water beckoned, and you eagerly agreed as you laughed faintly. Both of you changed into swimwear concealed beneath your Jedi robes, making sure to keep your lightsabers close. The two of you ventured into the water, and the cool embrace of the lake provided a welcome respite from the warm Naboo sun.

Anakin's laughter echoed across the lake as he splashed you playfully. "You're not getting away that easily," he teased, swimming closer.

You retaliated with a splash of your own, your laughter harmonizing with his. "Oh, it's on, Skywalker!"

The water seemed to wash away your inhibitions, allowing you to be carefree and open with your affections. Anakin reached out, gently cupping your cheek as he drew you closer. His lips met yours in a sweet, lingering kiss, a testament to the love that had grown between you, hidden from the watchful eyes of the Jedi Order. This was it… All you ever wanted was to be like this with him. One of your hands goes to the back of his neck to play with his wet hair, as he slowly surrounded your waist with his arms to keep you close.

As both of you break the kiss to regain some air, he whispered, "I love you, Y/N." You knew he meant it, as you looked into his blue eyes you saw how they shined. A big smile adorning his face, and oh boy you loved that smile.

"I love you too, Anakin," you replied, your heart soaring with happiness.

Together, you swam, laughed, and reveled in the purity of the moment, cherishing the stolen hours of peace and love on Naboo's tranquil shores. In this hidden sanctuary, your love for each other blossomed, defying the challenges of war and the constraints of the Jedi Code.

As the sun began to set, casting a warm, golden glow over the lake, you both knew that these moments were worth any sacrifice. The love between you and Anakin was a beacon of light in a galaxy plunged into darkness, and you were determined to hold onto it, no matter what lay ahead.

The sunlight danced on the lake's surface as Anakin and you swam in the refreshing waters. Anakin, with his charming but occasionally arrogant personality, couldn't resist making a cheeky comment.

"You know, Y/N," he began, a playful grin on his face, "I've heard the Force flows through this lake. Who knows, you might encounter some Force-sensitive aquatic creatures. Maybe you'll have to engage in a deep philosophical debate with a sentient fish."

You rolled your eyes, swimming closer to him. "Anakin, I think even a Force-sensitive fish would struggle to keep up with your debates.”

"True, I do have a gift for debating," Anakin admitted with a smirk. "But who knows what ancient underwater secrets the lake holds? Perhaps there's a school of fish discussing the meaning of life down there."

You couldn't help but laugh at his playful remark. "Anakin, if those fish have cracked the meaning of life, maybe they can teach you how to have the Force on your side," you quipped with a smile, memories of Anakin trying to show you a cool trick resurfacing.

With a sly grin, you retorted, "Speaking of the Force, I recall that time you tried to use it to cook, and, well, let's say it didn't turn out as expected."

Anakin laughed heartily, a touch of humility creeping in. "Okay, okay, I admit, that was a disaster. But I promise not to Force-chop any vegetables today."

As you swam side by side, you couldn't help but continue the playful banter so you decided to propose a fun way to entertain yourselves. "Anakin, you may be a Jedi Knight, but I bet I could beat you in a swimming race."

His eyes widened in mock surprise. "Is that a challenge, Cherub?" Hearing the nickname Anakin has for you roll out of his tongue with that cocky tone made you smile with a feeling of complicity.

You nodded, a competitive glint in your eye. "Oh, it most certainly is."

With that, the race was on, and the two of you swam with all your might, your laughter echoing across the lake. Anakin's competitive spirit was matched only by your determination, and you both pushed each other to your limits.

As you reached the shore, gasping for breath but wearing triumphant smiles, Anakin conceded, "Alright, Y/N, you win this round. But I'll challenge you to a rematch next time."

You grinned, dripping wet and victorious. "I'll be ready, Skywalker."

Your playful banter continued throughout the day, each comment and retort drawing you closer together. Anakin's charming arrogance met its match in your intelligence and strong will, creating a dynamic that made your relationship all the more special.

Amidst the laughter and teasing, you both knew that this was the kind of love and companionship worth fighting for, even in a galaxy torn apart by war and secrecy. Together, you faced the challenges and uncertainties of the Jedi life, all while sharing moments of humor and affection that were uniquely your own.

© Nevess 2023. My original posts are not allowed to be edited, translated and/or re-uploaded on another account or platform without my permission, nevertheless, re-blogs are accepted and very appreciated.

[mactavishwritings]

dark!joel miller x innocent!reader

age gap - corruption (18+ themes)

once again, i will write what i want to and i don’t wanna hear it.

joel miller who can’t help himself around you. it’s the zombie apocalypse for god sake. morals went out the window years ago, no one around to say what’s wrong for him to do.

you were so pretty, working in a makeshift shop on the corner across the street from his house. he could see a clear line from his window into the front window; a perfect view of you everyday.

it was clear, even from this distant, you were 30 years younger than him. maybe even younger, he couldn’t fully tell. all he knew was the craving that itched and burned. his mind was filled with thoughts of you that, given any other lifetime, would be considered immoral. but it wasn’t any other lifetime. it was the zombie apocalypse and he could die tomorrow.

you knew of joel; knew what his reputation was. you knew of elle; she frequented your mom’s shop since her and joel settled here. the shop’s goal was so bring back a level or normalcy that people were missing, aching for even. you were happy and content to supply it.

joel laid awake at night, just thinking. thinking of what he could do or say to win you. your eyes were always full of hope and happiness that made his blood travel south. you had the spark he lost years ago.

he knew no one would say anything to him. he was known as a fighter, a survivor. in times like these, it was so important to have a figurehead like him. he hated the title and never wanted it. but he could use it. use it for his advantage.

joel started coming by the shop more and more. you found out he lived across the street from, that he wasn’t elle’s dad like you thought, that he spent his time usually by himself, and that his eyes were the most beautiful and intimidating you’d ever seen. something was lying behind them, you just couldn’t figure out what.

you felt yourself being drawn to him, counting down the minutes, seconds even, until his usual arrival to your store where he’d by the same bottle of whiskey. you figured he must just really like the taste.

“you ever tried this stuff?” he asked you one day and you giggled. “yuck. no way. my mom says it’s gross.” joel raised an eyebrow and leaned against the counter, coming so close to you that the smell of him made your legs weak. “you always listen to your mom?”

that’s how you ended up at his place after you closed down for the day. “it’s only across the street! safest walk you’ll find.” he made a promise he wouldn’t keep you long.

it was getting late when the alcohol took affect. he assured you that elle wouldn’t be home tonight, she was spending the night at one of her friend’s house. you felt like you were sitting on jelly, your body felt unstable.

joel kept a firm hand on the back of your neck. it was a friendly touch you managed to convince yourself. he was just being friendly as he gently squeezed your neck in a way that made you tingle.

he watched you. he was good at reading you, observant. he watched as your body relaxed, he watched your thighs twitch and squeeze together when he shifted closer on his couch. he knew it was wrong as he pushed the glass of whiskey the two of you were sharing against your lips, encouraging you to take another swig.

your mind was swimming. you hadn’t ever been drunk before, let alone be alone with a man. your mom would be disappointed tomorrow morning when you inevitably get sick. you reached for joel’s arm for support as you attempted to stand.

“where you going? the party is right here.” joel laughed as he helped you up. “wanna….pee….” you struggled to get out and he shook his head at you. “i think that was rather rude. shouldn’t you ask permission?” he asked, his tone becoming dark.

your face flushed bright red and you grabbed onto his sleeve. “ ‘m sorry!” joel watched as your legs pressed together, either in pleasure or to hold your bladder. joel grabbed your waist to pull you closer to him. you looked up at him with wide eyes that held such affection and need that joel almost burst right there.

he held all the power in that moment. your desperation and want was intoxicating for him. your innocence drove him crazy, the little whimper stuck at the back of your throat pulled him in. you blinked a couple of times and pushed yourself closer. “may i please go to the bathroom?” you whimpered.

“you want help?”

[jinghengjingzine]

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[the-bi-writer-blog]

I’m 38 now and here are some (mostly positive) things that have surprised me about aging:

When it comes to appearance and comparing myself to other people, I’ve gotten WAY more chill about it, even though I’ve got smile lines and a few small streaks of grey.

You know how, when you visit your old high school/middle school a few years after graduating, and all you can’t think is “WOW were we ever this young?? I thought we were So Grown Up at that age, but damn they’re just babies!”

So it’s like that. The way you feel about middle schoolers when you’re in high school, or high schoolers when you’re in college - they look like fresh faced babies and you wonder why you didn’t see it before.

So that’s the first thing: age-related appearance.

How I thought it would go: wow old people are all ugly and gross, I hope I never look like that

How it actually is: I love seeing laughter lines on my friend’s faces, because I can see echoes of the jokes we shared. I love their worry lines too, since they’re proof of what we’ve survived together.

And when it comes to my own face?

It’s just my face.

I’m WAY more neutral about it than I used to be. I used to see a checklist of things I wanted to change about myself, every time I caught a glimpse of my face in the mirror.

Now? I’m honestly too tired and too busy to care about something that matters so little in the long run, and I’d rather use my headspace for something else that actually matters.

(And like, ofc I’m still insecure about parts of my appearance, I’m human. but it just feels SO much less pressing now than it did when I was younger.)

Eventually you really do just look in the mirror, shrug, and say, “Eh, could be worse.” And then you carry on spending time with your loved ones and hobbies, in the home you’ve made.

Also back to comparing my appearance to the appearances of those younger than me: I expected to just feel less and less sexy as I got older, and kind of assumed that maybe older people just kind of grin and bear it if they have sex at all (lol)

But the reality is - I don’t think I look “old,” per se. I just think that everyone else looks impossibly young 🤣

Looking at college kids now gives me that same feeling of seeing middle schoolers when you’re in high school. You’re just kind of like, “Why are these humans so underbaked” 😂😂

Idk. That started out one way and turned into a ramble, but I’ve been thinking a lot about appearance lately, as I begin planning the first steps of my own transition (YAY.) And I’ve been reflecting on how many insecurities really have faded over the years.

It will be the work of a lifetime to accept myself fully, of course. But I feel SO much more calm, centered and peaceful than I ever have before, and it’s been a really lovely surprise.

Tl;dr what they don’t tell you about aging is that it’s Fine, Actually, and you will feel SO much less insecure, I promise you. You’ll let others expectations roll off your back, and stop doing things to make other people happy.

And you’ll start the long (and wonderful) lifelong process of learning to make a home in yourself, for yourself ❤️

[ltash]

Ethereal

Part two "Thirst"

Link to Part 1 in the end.

Ghost x Vampire Hybrid, Ghost x female reader

When Ghost crossed paths with you, a vampire hybrid in the frozen Russian Tundra. Little did he know you are hiding a secret within.

18+, MDNI.

I would rather spend one lifetime with you, than face all the ages of this world alone."

He laid you very gently on the fur rug beside the fireplace, the warmth from the flames contrasting sharply with the icy chill that had seeped into your bones. Your clothes, little more than rags, clung to your ethereal form, hinting at the delicate beauty beneath.

Ghost removed his sniper and gloves, setting them aside with deliberate care. His puffer jacket followed, discarded in his haste to help you. You were completely unconscious, your breaths shallow and labored.

Slowly, he began to remove your makeshift shoes, his touch as gentle as possible. The old shawl followed, then the layers of rags you had wrapped around yourself for warmth. With each layer removed, he searched for the source of your bleeding, his hands steady despite the urgency of the situation.

He continued to remove every piece of clothing you wore, his movements slow and gentle, as if handling the most delicate of treasures. When he finally removed your chemise, the sight before him made his jaw drop. Your body was a masterpiece, sculpted by the hands of a higher being, a work of art so perfect it seemed almost unreal.

Your milky white complexion was so pure that he feared even touching you might sully it. In all his military years, Ghost had seen many women, but none came close to your ethereal beauty. The firelight danced across your flawless skin, setting it ablaze with a soft, warm glow.

"Steaming Jesus," he murmured, unable to tear his eyes away from the vision before him. Your tiniest waist gave way to a mound of soft breasts, adorned with tiny pink nipples, and the perfect V shape of your most sensitive part. The sight was both breathtaking and humbling, a stark contrast to the harsh, brutal world he was so accustomed to.

He gently placed his rough hand below your belly button, his touch sending shivers down his spine. You were colder than the snow outside, your body delicate and petite. Your neck, like a swan's, arched gracefully, and your collarbones were razor-sharp.

For a moment, he looked away, a sense of reverence and respect overwhelming him. There wasn't even a spot of peach fuzz on your body, your skin as smooth and unblemished as porcelain.

Ghost held your freezing cold hand in his own, marveling at its beauty. Your hands were so delicate, with thin fingers and long pink nails, a stark contrast to his own calloused palms. He squeezed your hand gently, willing some warmth to seep into your chilled body.

His gaze drifted to the wound on the curve of your side, just above your hip bone. It was a stark reminder of the danger you had faced, the fragility of life in this unforgiving landscape.

The sight of it made his heart clench. The bullet had torn through your lower abdomen, leaving a gaping, bloody hole. Ghost's fingers traced the edges of your wound. Gathering his composure, Ghost refocused on the task at hand. He knew he had to treat your wound and keep you warm to ensure your survival.

He worked quickly, cleaning the wound with the supplies from his medical kit, applying pressure to stem the bleeding.

His mind raced with thoughts of how fragile you seemed, how someone so delicate could survive in such a harsh environment. The firelight danced across your platinum hair, your pale skin almost luminescent in the glow.

Ghost took out the stitching thread and needle, his hands steady despite the gravity of the situation. With you already unconscious, there was no need to numb the area. Gently, he cleaned your wound with alcohol, half-expecting a reaction from you, but you remained still and unresponsive. He knew you were in a deep sleep, your body exhausted from the ordeal.

The first prick of the needle made your muscles twitch, and Ghost glanced at your face, but you didn't stir. As he continued to stitch your wound, he couldn't help but notice a small stream of tears cascading down your beautiful face. You were still passed out, but tears flowed from your eyes, a silent reminder that you were indeed feeling pain.

His heart clenched at the sight, a surge of empathy washing over him. He worked quickly, his movements as gentle as possible as he closed the wound. With each stitch, his heart broke with the determination to ease your suffering and help you heal.

As he finished stitching and bandaging your wound, he wiped away the tears from your cheeks, his touch light and tender. Despite the storm raging outside and the uncertainty of your situation, Ghost found solace in the knowledge that he had done everything he could to care for you.

Ghost knew that getting you to proper medical care was critical, but for now, his priority was keeping you stable and warm. He wrapped you in the thickest blankets he could find, ensuring you were as comfortable as possible.

He sat beside you, his eyes filled with a mixture of awe and determination. "You're safe now," he whispered, his voice soft yet resolute. "I'll make sure you get through this."

With one final glance at your sleeping form, he vowed to remain by your side until you woke, ready to provide whatever support and comfort you needed. In the midst of the chaos and danger of the tundra, he found himself drawn to you, captivated by your beauty and resilience.

As he sat by your side, his hand resting lightly on your belly, Ghost felt a surge of protectiveness wash over him. You were in his care now, and he would do everything in his power to keep you safe and help you heal.

The storm continued to rage outside, but inside the lodge, a fragile peace settled over you both. Ghost remained vigilant, his senses attuned to any change in your condition. He was determined to see you through this ordeal, no matter the cost.

As Ghost sat with you, his hand resting gently on your soft, icy-cold belly, he felt a deep sense of confusion and worry settle over him. Despite his efforts to warm you and tend to your wounds, your body temperature remained unnervingly low.

Minutes turned into an hour, yet there was no sign of improvement. Your skin still felt cold to the touch, your breaths shallow and labored. Ghost's mind raced with questions and doubts. What had he done wrong? Had he missed something crucial in his efforts to help you?

Desperation gnawed at him as he gently took your feet in his hands, rubbing them in an attempt to generate some warmth. But still, there was no change. Your body remained cold and unresponsive, a silent testament to the severity of your condition.

Ghost felt a surge of frustration and helplessness wash over him. He had trained for countless scenarios, faced danger and adversity head-on, but nothing had prepared him for this. The realization that he might not be able to save you was a bitter pill to swallow.

Realizing that his only option left was to give you his own body heat, Ghost felt a wave of reluctance wash over him. The thought of it made him blush, but he knew he had no other choice. Your life depended on it.

With a deep sigh, he gently peeled off his clothes, starting with his puffer jacket, then his T-shirt, leaving him in just his cargo pants. He hesitated for a moment, the gravity of what he was about to do settling over him.

Gathering his resolve, Ghost slid under the blanket beside you. He carefully nestled your head on his arm before wrapping his other arm around your petite figure, drawing you close. Your cold body pressed against his warm skin, the stark contrast sending a shiver through him.

You instinctively nestled into him, seeking the warmth he offered. Your soft breasts pressed against his chest, a reminder of your delicate beauty even in this dire situation. Ghost's heart raced, but he focused on the task at hand, pushing aside any awkwardness or discomfort.

He held you tightly, his body heat gradually seeping into yours, willing warmth and life back into your cold limbs. His hand gently rubbed your back, trying to stimulate circulation and generate more heat. He whispered reassurances, his breath warm against your ear.

"Stay with me," he murmured softly. "You're going to be okay."

He laid there, taking in your breathtaking beauty. The firelight cast a soft glow on your slightly agape lips, and the remnants of tears clung to your eyelashes, giving them a glistening sheen. Every detail of your face was a marvel to him, a mix of vulnerability and ethereal grace.

Ghost gently stroked your arm, his touch tender and soothing. He watched the rise and fall of your chest, feeling a sense of profound responsibility and protectiveness wash over him. You seemed so fragile in his arms, a stark contrast to the harshness of the world outside.

His eyes traced the curve of your face, the delicate arch of your eyebrows, and the softness of your features. The warmth of his body slowly transferred to yours, and he felt a flicker of hope as your skin began to lose its icy chill.

"You're safe now," he whispered softly, his voice barely audible over the crackling of the fire. "I won't let anything happen to you."

As he held you, his mind wandered to the circumstances that had brought you together. The tundra, the storm, the shot that had connected your fates in such an unexpected way. He wondered who you were, what your story was, and how you had ended up alone in this desolate place.

But for now, those questions could wait. His priority was keeping you alive and ensuring you recovered. He continued to gently stroke your arm, offering comfort and warmth, determined to stay by your side for as long as it took.

The storm outside raged on, but inside the lodge, there was a fragile sense of peace. Ghost remained vigilant, his heart and mind focused on the fragile, beautiful being in his arms, resolved to protect and care for you through the long, cold night.

Minutes turned into hours as Ghost lay there, his body wrapped around yours, providing the life-saving warmth you so desperately needed. Slowly, he began to feel a slight increase in your body temperature, a faint but hopeful sign that his efforts were not in vain.

The comms and evac had completely slipped from Ghost's mind as he became lost in you. Your fragile beauty and the urgency of your condition consumed his every thought. He didn't know when he drifted into a deep slumber, his arms wrapped protectively around your delicate form.

Soft whimpers woke him up. His eyes fluttered open, and he quickly focused on you. Your face was contorted in pain, and you whimpered softly in your sleep. The sight tugged at his heart, filling him with a renewed sense of urgency.

"Hey," he whispered, his voice soothing and gentle as he stroked your hair. "You're safe. I'm here."

He shifted slightly, ensuring you were still enveloped in his warmth. The fire had died down a bit, so he reached out carefully to add more wood, stoking the flames back to life. The renewed warmth radiated through the room, adding to the cocoon of heat around you.

Ghost checked your bandaged wound, relieved to see that it was still clean and not bleeding. He could feel your skin had warmed up slightly, but he knew you still had a long way to go.

As he held you closer, he murmured soft reassurances, his breath warm against your ear. "It's going to be okay. Just hang in there."

Your whimpers gradually subsided, and he felt you relax slightly in his arms. Ghost continued to hold you, his thoughts solely focused on your recovery. The outside world and his mission faded into the background; all that mattered now was keeping you safe and helping you heal.

Throughout the night, Ghost remained vigilant, occasionally drifting into light sleep but always alert to any sign of change in your condition. He knew the road to recovery would be long and uncertain, but he was committed to seeing you through it.

The morning sun shone through the windows, casting a warm, golden light into the lodge. The storm had gradually subsided, leaving a serene stillness in its wake. You opened your eyes slowly, the brightness making you blink as you tried to focus.

Your first sensation was warmth. You were wrapped in thick blankets, and the crackling fire nearby added to the comforting heat.

A gasp escaped your lips as you sat up abruptly, the blanket sliding down to reveal your bare breasts. The sharp pain in your lower belly made you wince, your trembling hand moving instinctively toward the bandage. The sudden movement brought a flood of memories, a flashback of the moment you got shot.

Instinctively, you covered your breasts with your long hair, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment and confusion.

You heard heavy footsteps approaching. Your eyes darted toward the figure emerging from the shadows. As he stepped into the light, you took in every detail, from the combat boots to the tight black cargo pants that clung to his muscular thighs. His black T-shirt strained against the rugged contours of his chest and arms, barely containing his powerful physique. The large biceps looked capable of snapping tree trunks, and a tattoo sleeve covered his left arm with intricate designs. He was tall, imposing, and exuded a raw, brute strength.

Your gaze traveled upwards until you met the shiny skull mask covering his face, with a black balaclava beneath it. His chocolate-brown eyes stared down at you through the holes of the mask, piercing and intense. You had never encountered a human like this before, let alone such a behemoth of a man. Despite your hybrid nature, his presence intimidated you deeply.

A gasp escaped your lips, and you recoiled, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself. It wasn't just fear that made you retreat—it was his scent. It hit your nose with an irresistible allure, awakening a thirst for human blood you had never felt before. Your instincts screamed at you, but you fought against them, struggling to maintain control.

"Who are you?" you whispered, your voice barely audible as you tried to steady your breathing. The allure of his scent was almost overpowering, and you found it difficult to focus.

Ghost noticed your reaction and took a step back, giving you some space. "I'm Ghost," he said softly, his voice deep and resonant even through the mask. "I found you in the snowstorm. You were injured, and I brought you here to help."

You noticed his thick British accent, the husky tone of his voice adding an air of mystery and authority. It was unlike any way people spoke English in your town, let alone you, as you were Russian.

"Who are you, if I may ask?" he inquired, tilting his head slightly and crossing his arms over his broad chest.

"I-I am Aurora," you replied, your voice shaky but sincere.

"What were you doing in the snowstorm, Aurora? Where is your family?" His interrogative nature came to the surface, his questions probing yet not unkind.

"I-I have no one," you stammered, feeling the weight of the truth in your words. "I live across the lake. I was trying to hunt."

"Hunt? In that heavy snowstorm?" He cocked an eyebrow, skepticism evident in his tone. "Look at yourself. Are you made for hunting?" He stepped closer, then knelt on one knee in front of you.

You felt a rush of emotions as he put his gloved fingers under your chin, gently lifting your face to meet his gaze. His chocolate-brown eyes locked onto your icy blue ones, a mixture of curiosity and something deeper flickering in his gaze.

"I have never seen anyone like you, Aurora," he said, his voice softening slightly. There was a genuine marvel in his words, as if he was looking at something rare and precious.

The intensity of his presence was overwhelming, yet you couldn't look away. Despite the layers of fear and uncertainty, you felt a strange connection, a sense of being seen in a way you never had before.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "For saving me."

He nodded, his fingers lingering under your chin for a moment longer before he let go. "You're safe now," he reassured you. "But you need to rest and recover. We'll figure out the rest together."

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions inside you. Despite the primal thirst gnawing at you, there was a sense of safety in his presence. His scent, while intoxicating, also brought a strange comfort.

The exhaustion from the previous night finally catching up with you. Despite the fear and confusion, there was a growing sense of trust. As Ghost settled back, his watchful eyes never straying far from you, you allowed yourself to relax, feeling a fragile hope for the first time in what seemed like an eternity.

To be continued...

Link to part 1

No reuploads or reproduction of my works allowed, reblogs are welcomed.

[proofwhisky]

WERE THOMAS A GODLY MAN, Felicia Hardy would be his patron, & he would use this moment as an opportunity to worship. Most of his life has been spent among the depths of the darkness produced by humanity & its wickedness, as an impartial observer, complicit in the indulgence of vices & primal desire present in every creature; & because he has been created without the inclination to feign any kind of disgust or rejection in the face of that very darkness, his life has quickly entwined itself within it. The darkness is not a foreign concept. It does not frighten him. It does not bother him.

In fact, it almost seems to fuel him.

Her fingertip traces over the buzzing nerves in his lips, dragging the waxy mixture of her lipstick & the bloody evidence left by her teeth down over the sharp angle of his chin.

Each movement she makes is deliberate. Intentional. Every shift of her body, every subtle change in her expression, every breath, every heartbeat. Had Thomas not known better he would be inclined to believe that Felicia herself is the one in control of everything. The very molecules of oxygen in his office seem to grow still at her words & bend themselves to her will.

Who is he, to claim to be so very different ?

His own cigarette remains forgotten & abandoned in the ash tray on his desk. The smoke it produces slowly thins without the rush of air provided by his own lungs or the movement of his hands, forming a ghostly barrier between the two of them, as if attempting to hand Tommy some sort of false hope that he will be able to resist any of her demands, or able to hide the hunger behind his eyes when she pulls herself away from him again.

Icy eyes glance to the door of his office. The French doors are shut tight, curtains over the glass windows pulled closed. Her 'boys' are nowhere to be seen.

If his wits were about him the way he'd like to pretend they always are, he would be able to admit that this looks very much like a carefully-laid trap, & he would be able to admit that he has absolutely no intention to escape from it.

"No," he says honestly, his eyes returning to her again. "I only asked whether that was what you wanted."

Felicia makes his desk look like a throne when she sits upon it & reveals what Thomas is certain is a set of lingerie that costs more than the combined yearly salaries of many of Small Heath's inhabitants. The delicate lace on her shapely legs, glowing in the sunlight as she draws her thighs apart, calls to him like a siren.

Somehow Thomas is able to rip his gaze from the endless curves of her body & face to shrug his jacket off & drape it over the back of his office chair. The holster to his handgun hangs from his shoulders & he makes no move to remove it before rounding the desk to fit himself between her spread legs.

I'm sure your mouth can convince me of your remorse in other ways, she says. His lips spread into a wicked, ravenous grin.

"My mouth," he says lowly, leaning in close enough to feel the heat that rises from her cheekbones. "Can convince you of anything."

Thomas's hands curl beneath her thighs, pulling her forward so her ass rests just at the edge of the polished mahogany. He is careful not to let their lips meet before he presses a strong, flat hand against her sternum, suddenly shoving her down against the desk & letting his hand trail down the mountains & valleys of her torso as he kneels before her, finally coming to rest against the swell of her womb just above her pelvis.

The delicate lace of her panties, carefully matched to the stockings on her legs, is ruined with evidence of her arousal, & the sense of pride & accomplishment that rushes through his veins will remain unmatched for a fair number of years.

He lets out a hot breath just centimeters from her cunt, finally pressing a hungry, open mouth to the wet lace. The hand on her stomach fans out just slightly, intent on feeling the twitching response of her muscles to his movements. The other stays resting beneath her thigh, moving to hook beneath the bend of her knee & spread her wider for him.

He is going to take as much time as he can, until his jaw is sore & she is begging for release; repayment for the months spent letting him writhe in the madness of her absence.

THOMAS SHELBY IS A MAN of few true vices. Though he is partial to good Irish whisky and fresh tobacco, there are very few things in his life that he feels he could truly not do without. Very few things that he would say that he needed. He could do without the whisky and the nicotine, even, if he absolutely had to. It is a point of pride for him, to not truly need anything from anyone, to be completely independent and reliant on nothing except for his own power and wit. 

Imagine his surprise when he realized that he needed Felicia Hardy. 

It went beyond simple desire. Far beyond. This was not a simple matter of willpower. This was something greater. It was as if there was a thread connecting the two of them, always pulling them just close enough to be tantalizing and unsatisfactory, only to unravel again and pull them apart. It had been weeks of glances over market stalls, whispers in his ear about the comings and goings from her home, the tales of two strange men coming and going at odd hours and carrying suitcases with them. 

At first it really hadn’t bothered him. But it had planted a seed which he watered and gently nursed into full-blown paranoia. 

She had been avoiding him entirely for the better part of a month, and he had allowed her to take her distance from him, believing her to be safer that way anyhow. But when he’d gotten word that there were Italians in town, asking for her, and then gotten word of the strangers in her home, he became more than just merely worried. He became obsessed. And, unable to find information on these men and knowing that she would never bring it up herself, Thomas set out to take matters into his own hands. 

It was laughably easy to capture the two of them. He had expected far more fallout than had come, and by the time he got the two of them in his office, he knew it was going to be less than an hour before a very angry Felicia came storming in and making demands. 

It was a small price to pay to get word to her. 

The cigarette in his hand burns brightly as he takes a drag, and the doors swing open as he taps the ash into the crystal tray on his desk. He makes no move to stop her from freeing the two men of their restraints, watching with an expression of cool disinterest as they rise from their seats and move to intimidate him. He does not react. His face gives nothing away. 

The smoke wafts upwards and curls around his face, catching the light from the window and forming an almost etherial pattern in the still air of his office. Felicia strides up to him. He can smell her perfume, her soap. It’s intoxicating. He wants to get lost in it and makes a note to remember this smell, this moment, because it is very likely that this is the last he will ever get. 

And then she kisses him. 

Electricity erupts between their bodies. The cigarette is forgotten in the tray, abandoned to burn slowly to ash and nothingness, as Thomas takes his hands and removes her jacket, pulling their bodies together so that he can feel the swell of her breasts against him, the heat of her chest, the gooseflesh that now litters the smooth expanse of her skin. He will not be the one to miss an opportunity like this. 

He’d be damned before he said no to her. 

Before he can work his fingers up beneath the hem of her skirts she bites down on his lip and draws blood. He flinches, hands going still, and then she yanks his head backwards and forces him to look at her. The look on her face says everything he’d needed to know up until now: she wants him just as badly as he wants her, and there was no amount of bad blood in the world that could keep them apart. 

He nods once, arching his eyebrows. “I understand, Ms. Hardy,” he says. “Now, would you like me to fuck you, or not?” 

[cobalt-exactoknife]

“I would rather spend one lifetime with you than face all the ages of this world alone” -Arwen Undomiel (Lord of the Rings)

She’s genuinely one of the most beautiful characters I’ve ever seen tbh.

(Moodboard made by me)

[overly-dramatic-artist]

I would rather spend one lifetime with you than face all the ages of this world alone

A little lord of the rings au I’ve been thinking about ❤️

[moonschildsworld]

I am not (a serie)

featuring: itoshi brothers x fem! reader

⚠️warning: heavy topics, major character death, mentions of mental instability, mentions of sh!, heavy angst

summary: Y/n, Sae & Rin became friends as if they were destined to after y/n moved into the neighborhood from the city. God had more in plans for them rather than an everlasting beautiful friendship. A love triangle happens, then everything else went downhills.

Chapter. 1 "I am not him"

Y/n, Sae and Rin, the trio that no one hasn’t not heard of, well around the neighborhood at least. It was as if destiny was the one who arranged the three kids fate to aligned; It all started on one eventful evening. It was raining cats and dogs as if showing a sign to something, Thunder clashing, elders often said it's to mark the start of an ill-fated story, it's just an old saying though, right?

Two little boys and a strange girl who has just moved from the city ended up sharing warmth under the playground as they share a shelter from the rain, shivering from the cold, they tried their best to comfort each other pretending that they weren’t scared of the thunder and lightning themselves, nevertheless even with the gloom evening, a very beautiful friendship bloomed within the three little kids.

Therefore begins, the flowery and loving friendship. You would often spot the three together at any time of the days. Most often, the two brothers would be playing soccer together as the girl is left on the sideline watching them, (and contradictorily to what she says, she would often be cheering for a side that she does a lucky draw every morning to decide)

Adolescent attacks, as cliché as it may sound, romance seem to inevitably bloom within their circle too. Though two feelings are mutual, and one is left hidden forever? Now can you guess which two among the three? Here’s a hint, y/n and sae are the same age, thus study in the same grade leading them to spending almost every single minutes of the day together aside from when they part way to get some sleep. Rin is often seen trailing along behind the two after school.  

Who knew that a lifetime peace wasn’t in god’s plan when he made their fate aligned? There’s been ups and downs. For instance, when Sae was set to go to Spain after discovering his passion for soccer and the “humble” skill of his wasn’t suitable to waste it by playing only for the school’s team nor as an everyday hobby. Thankfully, as if god answers the little ones’ wish for Sae to come back, he did. But maybe there were some sacrifices that had to be made because he came back as an entirely different Sae. He became colder, more impatient and he rarely ever look at anyone at their eyes level, his brother no exception. Rin was heartbroken of course, he had only known despair after, despair turns into desperation. Desperation to do anything just so his brother would look at him with the same kind eyes he once did again. He made his resolve to beat his brother in his own career. Not accepting the brotherhood that had fallen “temporarily” or at least Rin thinks so, until he beats his brother at least, he created another situation for him to still be connected to his brother.

One exception to his coldness was you, instead of the relationship turning sour between the two of you, it turned even sweeter. You remember how he rang the door bell of your house the minutes he came back, with sweat dripping along his temples, his face still looks as blank as ever, one thing that was different was his eyes, those aqua orbs that were staring right into your already shocked self, “I like you” he spits it out after a few huffing to catch his breath. After years of denying both of your feelings for each other, both afraid to ruin the friendship that you both had built over the past decade. Though it’s all useless now that you jumped into his arms right after, there’s nothing more to conceal the feelings you both had for each other.

After that, as if all your worries about what would happened if something goes wrong with your relationship all seem useless, it is a smooth sail. You both were inseparable, The love you both had for each other was phenomenal, to stretch it-- out of the world. You don't see yourself loving anyone other than Sae, so does he. The Sae that you had was the Sae nobody had ever seen, the endearing and loving Sae. The Sae that cater to you and you only. The only minor problem was that— Sae often have oversea schedules that would last to a week to at least a month, it is really no big deal though as Sae would remember to video call you or text you often. You could imagine your future with him really clearly, no matter where you go, he's always in your future. It was a given that you both would last together forever.

Rin, on the other hand, had grown rather distant after everything. One thing was that it was awkward enough for him to face his brother, or more like Sae didn’t want to even spare a glance at him. Another thing was that, it hurts him more than he thinks to see you both stuck like glue to each other. It hurts him that he sees not a slightest chance with you, he had always known. From the moment he accepted his feelings to the moment where he catches how you both were looking at each other. He'll always be Sae's younger brother, his tag along that over the time, it seemed normal for you to call him little bro too. There was once a place for him whether in between or on the sideline with the both of you. You often reach out to Rin out of concern, you adored Rin after all— nothing more than a younger brother to Rin’s disappointment. He was out of your way, for your goods and his own too.

That is until, a devastating news reach his ears, “your brother is in the emergency room, Rin” rin could hear how her mother sniffling her cries as his father was beside her, trying his best to comfort his wife while he’s breaking down inside himself. “t-the plane crashed mid-way as it took off…” Swallowing her sniffles, she tries her best to explain the situation but soon broke down as rin could hear the sound of the phone dropping hard on the ground from the other line.

Rin has never recall any moment that he has been panicking like this, there were many things running through his head.

‘what the hell happened?’

‘how could this happen?’

‘has she heard the news yet?’

Clenching hard onto his phone, he dashes out of the training center not bothering to change from his practice clothes full of sweats. He rushes to his car, and there he took a few deep breathe, his eyes full of tears that were threatening to fall as he hit the wheel exasperatedly a few time before stepping on the gas and charged toward the designated hospital.

His body stumbling as he ran as fast as he could upon exiting the car, his body shut down as his eyes lay on the sight of the professionals pushing a bed out of the emergency room with grim faces. Part of his head was praying, he came to the wrong emergency room, maybe the right one is at the other side of the hall. Though the crimson red hair proves him otherwise. He was watching everything unfolded, all his body senses left him, his body not moving an inch as he watches his parents bolting to the doctor as they ask them frantically about Sae’s condition only for their last hope to be shot down by a sullen head shake from the doctor. Only when his mother fainted as she heard the news that Rin body started to move toward his mother and hold her.

The nurses that were on stand by rushed quickly to escort Rin’s mother into a secluded room to check on her condition. It was the first time ever that Rin had heard his father wail out of loud as his body collapsed up front as he punches the hospital floor until his knuckle bleeds. Rin watches all the scenes unfold with eyes that were seemingly drained out of color. His eyes then shot up as he spots a familiar figure crouching in front of the emergency room, her face buried into her knees. Rin knew at once who that woman is, and his body moves on its own as its jolt up sloppily, he bolts to her— almost crawling on four. Rin takes one big gulp before calling out to y/n “Sis..” the familiar nickname and one that leaves a painful stench in Rin's chest slide out of his mouth out of habit.

Silence, no response from her. It was as if her whole body stop functioning. Panicking, rin glances at her from the side, her chest seems to rising up and down in steady motion meaning she’s stable in that sense thankfully. Rin didn’t give up and try to call out to y/n a couple more times, to no avail and not a single sound uttered from her back. Rin felt his heart clenching, he knew that y/n wouldn’t be okay at this moment. Not when Sae had been with her half of her life, she wholeheartedly depends on Sae. Everyone could see that. She’s the most at peace when she’s with Sae. With Sae, her smile could outshine the sun. Now that Sae is..

Rin bites his lip, finding his calling out to her was useless. He infuriated himself, couldn’t he make one person happy? No, it doesn’t matter how many people he could make happy, all that matters is her. His fingers inadvertently sink deeper and deeper into his thighs as he stares at y/n helplessly. Sae would’ve made her smile in a heartbeat, Sae would’ve know just the right thing to cheer her up. Maybe it’s just Sae himself. I've known that, I've come to accept it long ago. I can’t do anything, I am not him.

To be continue.

author note: hello! i got a great idea for a series, i am not quite sure if i can pull it off but i'll do my best! i hope you enjoy the first chap that serves as a light introduction :) feed backs are always welcome and well appreciated!

p.s: i love when people associate my works with songs, so if any songs remind you of this work, make sure to let me know. i always appreciate a good song rec<3