#she won’t be used and will do her own thing

[thebookworm0001]

the irony of Elphaba asking the Wizard for the one thing he actually has in his power to give and refusing it

The musical functions in part because you already know the story of The Wizard of Oz

You know he’s a conman, you know he has no magical capacity - you expect her to be disappointed by him, but because she asks for something he can’t give

Being degreenified isn’t going to happen - we know this - but we expect her to ask anyway

And instead, Elphaba, who has again and again and again sacrificed her own desires for the love of others (her entire life with Frex and Nessa, going to Morrible to demand Glinda’s inclusion on the sorcery class after Glinda seemingly reaches out to her, ignoring her feelings for Fiyero because of Glinda’s feelings for him) sets aside the impossible request for the one thing he can do

Help the Animals

Elphaba can’t know that it’s all his fault, not yet, but she believes in his magic at this point - she believes in the Wizard’s ability to help and he can

He can but he won’t

The one time he can actually use his power, he refuses because it means the illusion that led her to ask him in the first place disintegrates

And he’ll be damned if he loses that illusion in favor of the real thing because being called Wonderful and being Wonderful are two very different things, and he has no interest in doing the work of the latter

[dreamscapeee222]

Could you maybe do a reversal or Arevik's request? As someone who struggles with their body image the other way around.

A/n: I was actually planning on this. Now I write this for you :) I hope you like it!

You struggle with your body image

Vi, Jinx, Caitlyn, Ekko, Jayce, Viktor, Mel

Masterlist

Vi

Vi notices your discomfort with your reflection long before you voice it. She’s observant, her sharp eyes catching how you pull at your clothes or avoid mirrors.

"Hey, you don’t have to look like anyone else to kick butt, alright? Trust me—I’ve seen you in action." She’ll say it with conviction, her tone brooking no argument.

When she realizes how deep your struggles run, she doesn’t push, but she’s always there. She’ll drag you to a boxing gym one day, not to force you to fight but to show you how strong you are.

"You’ve got nothing to prove to anyone," she tells you after watching you land a perfect punch.

Jinx

Jinx is chaotic but fiercely protective. She notices your hesitation to eat or how you tug at your sleeves and immediately declares, "Whoever made you feel like this? I’m blowing ‘em up."

She tries to cheer you up in her own unpredictable ways—drawing exaggerated portraits of you that make you laugh and reminding you she doesn’t care about appearances.

"You’re my favorite person, you know that? And I’m the smartest person in Zaun, so... my opinion’s the only one that matters."

On bad days, she’ll cuddle up next to you, her arms tight around your waist, mumbling, "I’ve got you. You don’t need to change a thing."

Caitlyn

Caitlyn notices the subtle changes in your mood when the topic of appearances comes up. She approaches it delicately, waiting for you to feel safe enough to open up.

When you finally do, she listens carefully, her eyes soft with understanding. "You’re beautiful as you are, but I understand how hard it is to feel that way sometimes."

She makes small changes to help you feel more comfortable—like buying clothes in cuts and fabrics you’d like or planning outings to places where you won’t feel judged.

Caitlyn constantly reinforces how much she values you, not just with words but through her actions. "It’s okay to struggle. Just don’t forget that you’re never alone in this."

Ekko

Ekko’s no stranger to insecurity, so he picks up on your struggle almost immediately. He doesn’t push you to talk about it but offers little reassurances whenever he can.

"You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for. And no one else gets to define what’s worth loving about you. That’s all you, alright?"

On hard days, he’ll distract you with his projects or take you for a ride through the Lanes, showing you the world through his eyes. "This city doesn’t define us—neither do the things we don’t like about ourselves."

He’s endlessly patient, always reminding you of your worth without overwhelming you.

Jayce

Jayce struggles to grasp the depth of your feelings at first. He’s used to being confident and assumes a pep talk will fix it. "You’re amazing, okay? Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise."

When he realizes it’s more complicated than that, he shifts his approach, becoming more attentive. He starts noticing when you’re withdrawn and subtly adjusts his behavior to meet you where you’re at.

He’ll pull you into a tight hug, his voice warm as he says, "Whatever you see when you look in the mirror... I wish you could see what I see."

Jayce is big on small gestures, like leaving notes or little gifts to remind you of how much he cares.

Viktor

Viktor is deeply empathetic and picks up on your struggles quickly, though he doesn’t address it outright at first. Instead, he starts spending more time with you, letting his quiet presence offer comfort.

One day, as you stare at yourself in the mirror with a defeated look, he speaks softly but firmly. "I’ve spent my life defying limitations—don’t let your mind be one of them."

Viktor gently encourages you to focus on what your body allows you to do rather than how it looks. He’ll share stories of his own insecurities, hoping it helps you feel less alone.

On particularly bad days, he simply takes your hand and reminds you, "You are enough. You always have been."

Mel

Mel’s approach is thoughtful and calculated, but her warmth shines through in every interaction. She notices your discomfort almost immediately but gives you the space to come to her.

When you do, she listens without judgment, her hand resting gently on yours. "There’s nothing wrong with you," she says, her tone firm yet kind. "But I’ll help you see that when you’re ready."

She introduces you to self-care routines that help her feel confident, but she’s careful never to make you feel pressured. "You don’t have to change a thing to deserve love—not from me, not from anyone."

Mel is fiercely protective, shutting down anyone who dares make you feel lesser. Her love is constant, unwavering, and she ensures you feel it in every word and touch.

Requests may be sent through the ask box. Only SFW.

[cyber333angel]

DONT MOVE, HOLD STILL ! (feat. vi and sevika)

a/n : this is the three part thing i thought of randomly, the first one will have sevika and violet from arcane overstimulating you and lots of praise 😊

you were held down to the bed with your arms restrained in violets hands, tossing and squirming around the bed that all three of you shared when it was time to rest. it was overwhelming, the way sevikas hips flowed against yours, feeling the way her clit rubbed against your sensitive bud with absolute warmth and dampness. it drove you crazy how much sevikas and vi’s words could affect you and make you dumb, one of your quivering legs pipped up on sevikas shoulder while the brunette grinded her hips over and over against your cunt. both your hands in violets hands as she purrs at you with her sweet words, “yeah i know, she’s giving you such a hard time huh cupcake? making this pretty pussy feel so fucking good..” a faint hint of jealousy falling off her lips as if she wasn’t going to have her way with you next. vi’s evident strength holding both your hands in one of her own as she plays with your nipples, pinching at them while covering your face in kisses and sucking on your neck till it bruises - doing anything she can to touch you until she could feel your pussy on her own. sevika kissing at the thigh she was holding up as she’s on the verge of cumming, panting out of breath but still wearing her domineering disposition on her face, a shaky breath coming out when she feels your clit mush all over hers. “thaats it atta girl. s’’shame we have to tie you up like this.. love to see you struggle taking all of me baby.” her words only work you up more, pulling your hands from the pink haired girl even though it won’t budge, subconsciously grinding your messy cunt against sevikas despite your pleads of it being too much. the harsh grip on your hands tightening when vi pulls your arms back, “stay still alright? being such a good girl for us.” her stern tone reassuring you along with a kiss on the forehead . “but s’ too much please slow-“ your cut off by your own sobbing moans and twitching eyes, your hands and legs going limp as you cum from the stimulation. “oh g-god..” so overwhelmed you barley even feeling the mess between you and sevikas legs, trails of your slick coated your trembling thighs while your girlfriend rode her cunt all over your thighs, her eyes squeezed shut as she mumbled little nothings. violet cooing at you and making sure your watching as sevikas gets to her climax, commenting and asking you how it feels to see her this way. “f-fuck..” you hear her mutter as her hips stutter backwards, her chest heaving when she opens her eyes to see you looking at her with the most entranced eyes and vi with her teasing grin. “oh shut up.” she says as she leans down in between your thighs to give you a kiss, one she had been waiting for this whole time, with a snicker violet gets up from behind you with a release of your hands, “yeah whatever it’s my turn. you ready f’me cupcake?” taking a big gulp you could tell you were in for a long night.

[demonic0angel]

Things that happened at Thanksgiving today, but I make it DPxDC

Damian: … Richard? What are you doing?

Dick: *standing on the lawn and staring into the distance* I’ve been watching Danny try and struggle to park for the past fifteen minutes.

Damian: Oh. *also stops to watch* Have you seen Danielle and Jasmine come in?

Dick: Tbh, no. I’ve been watching Danny this entire time. And oh— oh! He stopped. Ooh, he turned around. He’s leaving. Damn, he gave up entirely and decided to park on the grass. Oh, he ran over Alfred’s bushes.

Damian:

Dick:

Damian: He won’t make it past the gates without Alfred sniping him.

Dick: Damn, you’re right.

————

Damian: *after Jason did something* what do you think you’re doing, Todd?

Jason: Lol, your mom

Damian: Actually, my mom only used you for her own goals. In fact, your mom abandoned you. Twice.

Jason:

Dick: Now, Damian, that’s not—

Damian: People who have had their mothers die in front of them should not speak.

Dick:

Damian: *pointing at Tim* And you! You may have had two parents at one point, but they definitely don’t consider you as their child! That’s why you had to stay with your neighbors so long! You’re an inconvenience!

Tim:

Stephanie: Hey now—

Damian: I don’t even want to hear you. Does your mother know you go out and fight crime? Does she even care?

Stephanie:

Damian: *looking at Cass* You too, Cassandra! But mommy issues wouldn’t be the least of your problems with your daddy issues as well!

Cass:

Damian: *turning around to Danny* And I didn’t forget about you, Fenton! No wonder you fit right in, your abandonment issues, raging teenage angst, and appearance makes you just at home, doesn’t it?!

Danny:

Tim: …. What about Jazz?

Jazz: *who’s been silent the entire time*

Damian:

Jazz:

Everybody else:

Damian: No, she’s a guest here. Why would I do that?

————

Dani: Pfft— Tim, Tim, can I— *can’t breathe from laughing too hard* can I touch your hair? It just looks so soft! *still laughing*

Tim: …?

Jazz and Danny: *also laughing their guts out*

Dani: *tries to reach for Tim but she keeps laughing and can’t focus on asking him* Your hair looks so soft— keheheh! C-Can I touch it??

Dani: *eventually swipes her finger under Tim’s nose and falls off of her chair from cackling so loud*

Tim: …..

Jason: *also bursting out in laughter* YOUR FACE!! BWAHAHAHAH

*Dani then proceeded to do this four more separate times with other people*

————

Dick: You know how Harley is back together with the Joker?

Dan: Yeah?

Dick: He cheated on Harley again.

Danny: *whirling around, flabbergasted* HUH?!

————

Dick: *carrying several bottles* Alright! Time for alcohol!

Jazz: Uhhh, Dick? Damian is right there—

Dick: He’s getting drunk tonight too!!

Everyone: ????

Damian: Yes! Alcoholism! *takes a plastic cup and takes a big gulp*

Dan: *looking at the bottle* This says sparkling apple cider?

Dick: Shhhh, just watch the show.

————

*dramatic screaming from other room*

Bruce: ….? What’s that?

Dick: Is that Jason? He sounds like he’s in pain

Bruce: *standing up* is he okay? Does he need help? Should I go and help him?! What’s happening—

Tim: Jason is playing ping pong with Dan and Danny. And losing really badly while Jazz is watching.

Bruce:

Dick:

Tim:

Bruce: oh.

[azzifuddslover]

off the court

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

themes: angst, pining

word count: 2.7k

tw: swearing, LIGHT sexual content

a/n: happy thanksgiving for anyone who celebrates! i lowkey like this chapter a lot, but i apologize for it being so short. i’ll try to make next chapter longer 🤞 lemme know how u enjoy it!

CHAPTER FIVE

the following day, paige isn’t the one screwing up in practice. no, it’s azzi. azzi, the one who is consistent with her shots. azzi, the one who rarely misses despite any stress or distractions she’s feeling.

yet, ever since that stupid game of spin the bottle that ended up with paige kissing her, she’s been out of sync.

azzi furiously dribbles the basketball on the ground, pressing her lips in a firm line out of frustration. she goes for yet another 3 pointer; it bounces off the rim.

“fucking dammit,” she mutters to herself, annoyed with her shot missing.

caroline, one of her closest friends on the team, cautiously approaches the brunette.

“az, you good?” she asks wryly.

azzi looks over at her, “i’m fucking perfect, caroline.”

a flash of hurt travels in carol’s eyes at her friends harsh words.

regret hits azzi immediately, “i’m sorry, carol. i’ve just got a lot on my mind- i didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

caroline’s lips tug into a gentle smile, “no worries, girl. i knew something was up, anyway.”

“you just know me too well, don’t you?” azzi returns the grin.

“sure do,” caroline replies, “so, you gonna tell me or what?”

“not here,” azzi makes a rushed glance at the blonde who’s across the room, doing some of her own shooting drills with kk.

caroline follows her line of sight and nods in understanding, “i see,” she smirks, knowingly.

azzi is sprawled out on her bed, while caroline is sitting cross legged on the opposite one. both girls have showered and dressed into comfortable pajamas since practice ended hours ago.

“tell me tell me tell me,” caroline repeats, eagerly.

azzi playfully rolls her eyes, “it’s stupid.”

“i don’t care, az! just tell me already,” she exclaims.

azzi takes a moment to think about the someone who’s been stuck in her head. that someone with perfect fucking lips and a perfect fucking tongue who knows exactly how to use it. heat creeps up her neck, reaching her cheeks. she brings her legs to her chest and covers her face with both hands.

“she’s fucking with my head, carol,” azzi groans into her hands.

caroline lightly smiles at her friend, “who?”

azzi removes her hands from her face to give caroline a look, “you know who. paige, obviously!”

“and why is that?”

azzi shakes her head, thinking it’s the most idiotic thing in the world. “because.. ever since.. you know what..” she gives her friend another look, “she just won’t leave my mind. she’s always there. she always has been.”

“aww, that’s so cute,” caroline beams, “you should-“

“no, it’s not cute, caroline!” azzi shouts, throwing up her hands. “it’s frustrating! it’s making me mess up in practice, embarrassing myself in front of coach. and everyone, for that matter!”

carol throws the brunette a soft look, “babe, everyone misses shots. you’re not the only one, and you most definitely won’t be the last. remember, just last week paige herself was doing bad in practice. and now she’s doing better! so will you, az.”

azzi shrugs her shoulders, figuring caroline is probably right. she lays out in her bed, pulling the covers overtop her body.

caroline isn’t done with the conversation, though. “so.. do you love her?”

azzi is taken aback at the unexpected question, to say the least. “what the actual fuck?”

“what? it’s a serious question,” caroline begins, “i see the way you look at her and the way she looks at you. it’s undeniable, if you ask me.”

“what way? what are you even talking about right now?”

carol tilts her head, throwing azzi an it’s obvious kind of glance, “um, like you want to rip one another’s clothes off and fuck each others brains out-“

“jesus, carol!” azzi shouts, shocked at her friend’s explicit language.

caroline chuckles at azzi’s reaction, “what! it’s true- you can ask any of the girls.”

right on queue, the dorm door opens and in walks the freshman, ashlynn.

“hey guys!” she waves at carol and azzi.

“perfect timing, ash,” caroline says, “i have a question for you.”

“carol, don’t,” azzi warns.

caroline squints her eyes at the curly haired brunette in challenge, “don’t you think there’s something going on between azzi and paige?”

ashlynn’s eyes widen at the question, “carol.. i thought we weren’t supposed to talk about that-“

“what?” azzi nearly screams.

ashlynn flinches back at her reaction, “az, don’t scare me like that!” she says, touching her hand to her heart.

“sorry, sorry,” azzi apologizes, “but what do you mean ‘not supposed to talk about that?’”

ash lowers herself on the bed with caroline, “well.. the entire team sort of knows there’s something up with the two of you. i mean, you guys look at each other all the time. and not in a friendly way.”

“that’s so not true!”

“yeah, it is, az. but anyway, we all agreed not bring it up, especially with either one of you. not until you figured it out.”

azzi gaped at the confession. everyone knew something was going on between them? azzi didn’t even know herself!

azzi eyes caroline, “carol, you knew? and never told me?”

caroline opens her mouth, then closes it. a moment passes with awkward silence between the three freshmen.

“az, look-“

“no! don’t even bother,” azzi throws herself off the bed, grabs her phone, and rushes out the door before neither ash or caroline could get another word out.

azzi is sitting in the basketball lounge room, phone in hand. she’s still buzzing with annoyance from the discussion with ashlynn and caroline an hour prior.

azzi’s head turns at the sound of the door creaking open. a familiar blonde steps inside, causing azzi’s heart to quicken. of course paige would come in here- of course.

paige immediately spots the brunette curled up on the couch looking her way. her breath hitches in her throat; memories of yesterday come flooding back in her mind- not that they ever left.

“h- hi,” paige stammers, then clears her throat.

“hey, p,” azzi sighs.

“just forgot my bag,” paige says, awkwardly moving to a nearby couch and grips her backpack.

azzi nods, unsure how to respond.

paige glances back at the brunette, who wears a sad expression on her face.

“are you okay?” paige questions her, genuinely concerned.

azzi gives paige a sad smile, “i’m good, thanks for asking.”

paige doesn’t move, though. she continues to stare at azzi, her eyes never wavering.

“what?” azzi asks softly at the blonde.

“you don’t look okay, az.”

azzi throws her legs out dramatically on the couch, along with her arms while defeat set in. “caroline’s pissing me off.”

paige lowers herself on a couch, opposite of the younger girl. “alright.. what’d she do to piss you off?”

azzi lets out a quiet sigh, “well..” she thinks back on her and carol’s conversation, unsure how to explain it to paige without giving too much away, “she didn’t tell me something i should’ve known about.”

paige arches a brow, “like what?”

azzi throws paige a look, “is that really your business?”

paige curls her lip in annoyance, “right, forget i asked,” she says before making an effort to get up.

azzi reaches her hand out as if to hold her back from leaving, “wait, don’t go, i’m sorry.”

paige’s heart skips a beat at azzi’s plea to make her stay, “okay.” this time, she sits down on the same couch azzi’s positioned on, inching closer to the brunette.

azzi’s cheeks instantly warm at their sudden close proximity. “it’s so fucking embarrassing missing everything in practice. it’s only my first year and i’m already screwing up.”

paige nods in understanding, “tell me about it,” she agrees. “did you see me last week? i couldn’t make a shot even if my life depended on it.”

azzi laughs at the memory of paige’s performance, “true.”

paige gives azzi a gentle shove, “hey! don’t agree with me!”

azzi’s laughter only grows, though. paige’s lips tug into a grin, yet she can’t help but still feel a little annoyed. when paige figures azzi’s laughter won’t calm anytime soon, she reaches out, placing her hand over the younger girl’s mouth.

“stop,” paige smiles, eyes solely on the azzi’s.

azzi’s chuckle soon ends; her eyes lock on paige’s while her blush becomes more visible. paige’s grin falls, but her hand remains.

azzi’s line of sight drops to paige’s pink lips- butterflies erupt in her stomach. she can’t help but think of yesterday; the feeling of paige’s lips against her own, her tongue swirling in her mouth. she wanted nothing more than to do it again.

paige eventually removes her hand from azzi’s mouth, eyes immediately flicking to her lips. the two are so close in distance they could hear each others erratic heart beats.

“paige,” azzi whispers, breathlessly.

paige shakes her head in attempt to forget whatever just happened between the two. “so, are you going back to your dorm anytime soon?”

“i’m not really sure, to be honest. i don’t wanna see carol right now,” she says.

paige nods, “well, if you want, you can come over mine again. i don’t mind.”

azzi’s head snaps to paige, “really?”

“i mean, yeah. there’s enough room, plus dorka’s hanging out with lou.”

azzi smiles at paige’s offer, genuinely grateful. “okay, then. lead the way.”

the two girls jump up off the couch, paige throws her backpack over her shoulders while azzi picks up her phone. they walk side by side, fingers brushing occasionally as they make their way to paige’s dorm.

the room is exactly how azzi left it- paige’s bed was unmade, empty water bottles were scattered on the night stand, clothes on the floor.

“sorry about the mess,” paige says, embarrassment flooding her features. she frantically begins picking up the dirty clothing pieces and shoving them in the nearby closet.

azzi chuckles at paige’s rush to clean the room, finding it cute. “paige, it’s really okay. i don’t mind at all.”

paige slowly stops what she’s doing, before turning to the curly headed brunette. a moment of comfortable silence hangs in the air.

azzi clears her throat, “i forgot to give you your shirt back.”

paige’s lips tip up, “no worries, you can keep it for all i care.”

butterflies flutter in paige’s stomach at the thought of azzi wearing her shirt. she can’t help but like it.

azzi’s matches the grin, “thanks. it’s so comfortable, by the way.”

“glad you like it, az,” paige laughs as she lowers herself onto her bed.

azzi continues to stand awkwardly in the middle of the room, unsure where to go from there.

“do you possibly have an extra toothbrush i could use? it’s okay if not, i can go-“

paige jumps up, “yeah! yeah, of course i do,” she walks into the small bathroom, opens the drawer underneath the sink and pulls out an unopened toothbrush and toothpaste. she hands it off to azzi.

“thank you, p,” azzi shows her a genuine smile.

paige nervously looks away from the younger girl, “mhm.”

minutes later, azzi comes out of the bathroom with her teeth freshly cleaned. paige is already laying in her bed, underneath the covers.

azzi looks over at the blonde, wondering if she should go over there or to dorka’s bed. but they did sleep together twice already? would it be weird to assume she’d sleep in the same bed again?

as azzi decides on dorka’s empty bed, paige speaks out. “just get over here, for goodness sake.”

azzi tries to hide her growing smile as she climbs into bed, right alongside paige. she finally settles in and gets comfortable before reaching over to turn off the lamp.

azzi doesn’t process what she’s doing until after she’s done it. she leans over and touches her lips to paige’s cheek, staying there a moment too long.

“goodnight,” azzi breaths.

paige’s eyes widen- she can practically feel her body temperature rise. she decides it’s only right to return the favor. therefore, she places her hand gentle on the back of azzi’s head for support and plops a long kiss on azzi’s cheek. before following it up with another quick one for good measure.

“goodnight.”

azzi has been tossing and turning all night long. no matter how much she repositions herself, she can’t seem to fall asleep.

her and paige remained basically binded together the entire night, regardless of azzi’s constant moving. paige rests on her back, while azzi adjusts herself once again to have her back against the blonde.

paige stirs next to her, the shift in the bed enough to pull her out of sleep. she blinks, adjusting her eyes to the dark, and notices azzi squirming from beside her.

with a soft exhale, paige leans on her elbows, and gently brushes curls behind azzi’s ear to get a better view of her face.

“you okay?” paige whispers, hand remaining on the younger girl’s cheek, lightly rubbing her thumb on her cheekbone.

a shiver runs through azzi at paige’s unexpected tenderness. she blinks up at paige, eyes locked on her beautiful blue ones.

“can’t sleep,” azzi murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper.

paige’s lingering hand continues to graze azzi’s cheek, “i can tell.” her eyes roam azzi’s face she’s grown to adore, before settling firmly on her full lips.

azzi brings her hand, this time, up to the back of paige’s head, fingers running through the blonde locks.

the silence between the two girls was full of tension and longing, yet neither made any effort to close their distant. not that they didn’t want to- both intensely did.

heat and desire flashed in paige’s eyes, wanting to give in so badly. she knew better, though. she knew it would ruin everything-

azzi pulls paige’s head down into a passionate kiss before she had time to react. it was different from last time- this kiss was more urgent, more forceful, and more importantly, on their own terms.

paige deepens the kiss, her hand moving to azzi’s curls, and slightly tugging. a small moan leaves her mouth, vibrating on the brunettes lips.

paige peppers kisses down azzi’s cheek, all along her neck, sucking gently, enough to leave marks for the morning.

“fuck, paige,” azzi groans.

the blonde only hums against her skin, causing azzi to pull paige’s head back up to hers and connect their lips once more.

it’s frantic, it’s tender, it’s hungry- it’s everything all at once. azzi never wants this moment to end, because she’s afraid it’ll never happen again.

paige’s hand slowly lowers beneath the covers, crawling down azzi’s chest and eventually settling on her hip.

“jesus, az,” paige whispers, breathlessly against her lips, “you feel so good.”

azzi groans, her tongue swirling in the older girls mouth, clashing with paige’s.

paige’s grip on azzi’s hip loosens; it inches farther and farther until it reaches her waistband.

azzi gasps at paige’s hand placement, causing paige to disconnect their lips and look into azzi’s eyes.

“can i?” paige asks, quietly.

azzi simply nods once, uncontrollably pulling paige into another searing kiss as her fingers disappear in her pants.

the brightness of the peaking sun through the curtains was enough to wake azzi. she rubs her eyes, adjusting to the light. her body was firmly against paige’s front, while her arm was loosely wrapped around her. she could feel paige’s soft breathing on the back of her neck.

she soon realizes she has no pants on- no underwear, either. when she begins to move, paige stirs, her eyelids fluttering open.

“god, you’re such a light sleeper,” azzi notes, giggling to herself.

paige yawns, still dazed from her long rest. she leans up onto her elbows and looks over at the brunette, who’s also staring at her. awkward silence hangs between the girls.

“so.. i should probably head back to my room,” azzi says, lifting herself off paige’s bed.

paige watches the freshmen, nervously fiddling with her fingers from the memories of the earlier morning.

“yeah, okay,” paige agrees.

azzi tugs her shirt down in attempt to cover herself up, even though paige had already seen it all. she quickly finds her clothes scattered on the floor and slides them back on, paige’s eyes on her never wavering.

as azzi walks to the door, she swiftly turns around, facing the blonde.

“let’s just forget this happened, okay?” azzi says, barely able to look paige in the eye.

a flash of hurt hits paige which she instantly covers with a nod.

“i agree,” paige responds.

“alright, good,” azzi nods, pleased with paige’s agreement. she doesn’t glance back at paige when she exits the room, leaving it completely silent.

paige was lying, though. she won’t ever forget.

[jakef3ver]

Nishimura Riki | NDA

��︎︎ Idol!riki x fan!reader | fem!reader

↯ fluff, crack maybe suggestive a little more into the fic, use of social media (instagram, twt), reader is just a regular girl going to school and stuff

⚠︎︎ will contain mentions of alcohol consume later

-Love at first sight?-

“I swear to god Alija“

”Imagine you just want to work in peace and suddenly out of nowhere Jake and Ni-ki from fucking enhypen walk in and order a coffee from you” you say before taking another bite from the pizza Alija made for the both of you.

Alija giggles, “I would’ve freaked out honestly” she says.

“I DID freak out and you know it, but I had to keep it together somehow, you know”

“nah that’s true” she says between chewing her last bite.

“Like, I knew they’d be here in this area because of the concert” you start.

“but I would’ve never imagined that they come to our fucking workplace for coffee” you finish dramatically and slap your hands on your face.

“and the worst thing is” you exclaim and stand up abruptly “rikis hand touched mine”

“WHILE HE SMILED AT ME ALIJA”

Alija bursts out into laughter.

“I swear I fell in love even more” you sigh.

“I bet he’ll recognize you at the concert” she says as the supportive-equally-delusional best friend she is.

“He absolutely won’t” you answer

“Hyung do you remember the girl from the cafe this morning?” Ni-ki asks Jake, as they sit in Jakes hotel room and scroll through their phones.

Jake looks up from his phone and smirks.

“Yes of course”

Riki also looks up from his phone and sighs.

“I can't get her out of my head” he says and runs his free hand through his hair.

“I really wanna see her again, do you think she'll be at the concert?” he asks.

“I don't know, could be possible, she seemed a little nervous when we ordered” Jake chuckles.

“Can we go back tomorrow before the rehearsals?” Riki asks and looks at Jake, hoping he'll go back with him.

“yea I think that should fit” Jake answers him, still smirking.

“Why do you look at me like that?” Riki asks jokingly offended and throws his hands in the air.

Then suddenly he hears his phone go off.



After looking at his phone, Riki looks up to Jake who’s now holding in a laugh.

“I am really not” he whines “I- I just think she’s pretty you know”

Jake shakes his head and starts typing again.

After sending his last message, he walks over to Jake and jokingly threatens to kick him “I genuinely hate you” he says and lets himself fall onto the hotel bed.

“oh come on, there’s nothing bad about this”

Jake declares “Just give her your number tomorrow if you're so down bad already” he continues and shrugs his shoulders.

“No I cannot do that, what if it gets leaked or some shit like that” Riki groans while staring at the ceiling.

“True” Jake starts to speak while sitting down beside him, “but honestly, I guess it's a take it or it's probably gone forever kind of situation” he finishes his sentence.

“But isn't that problematic? What if she's a fan for real? Isn't that even-” Riki replies but get's cut off by Jake “fuck this problematic whatever stuff” he calls out “Nda's exist you know” he adds.

Riki hums.

“Just try and see where it goes, huh” he begins again. “Not everything has to ‘end’ negatively”

Riki nods and sits up. “I guess, yea” he answers while standing up.

“Then tomorrow 11 AM down in the lobby?” he asks before turning to leave the room.

“Sure, see you” he answers “and think about it” Jake exclaims before Riki leaves the hotel room, to go into his own.

His thoughts now running wild.

Should I do it and take the risk?

Would she even be interested?

What if it works out?

What if I'm in love for real?

Wait, does love at first sight exist?

He shakes his head, and rummages through his suitcase searching for the pajamas he packed, before changing and getting ready for bed.

But, he couldn't really sleep.

He turns from the left side, to the right side.

From his back to his stomach.

And again, from left to right.

From back to stomach.

But he couldn't get her out of his head.

masterlist | previous | next

tags: @chaevibes @yangjungwonnie @minskzy @d-dilemma @microwvdstrawb3rri3s @ssiiwave @deadpool15

[formylovetodaryldixon]

“Russian roulette.” Daryl Dixon Imagine.

(Not my gif)

The game of killing or dying was too much for you after Richard was about to use you as bait, so you left to not be part of that life. However, it happens that you have a husband who is an excellent hunter, and who swears to you that he would burn everything in his path until he finds you.

A/N: This is an imagine I wrote a long time ago, but that was the first time I wrote smut (I suck at it, really) that's why I never did it, but I tried my best hehe. I realized that I love, LOVE writing Daryl as a husband, is kind of hot♥ (Sorry if there are any grammatical errors)

From afar, Daryl sees you teaching the children of the kingdom how to use the bow in the archery area. Some little ones had good bases to become great archers, to protect themselves and others from the dead, but he sees too how they insist that you show them again how it was done. So you search inside the quiver that hangs against your back, taking an arrow with a red feather in it that shines in the morning sun when you connect it with the bow. With a fluid movement, you raise the bow to the height of your face, pointing towards the target in front but far from you, and your arrow pierces right in the middle of the yellow point of the objective.

Daryl smiles proudly, but decides not to get close when King Ezekiel approaches you. Instead, Daryl walks away from there and crosses the garden and some houses, while, near him, Richard keeps practicing in his own archery area, and watches Daryl as he approaches.

“I’m practicing. I have to start using these more.” He raises the bow close to his face, aiming towards the target, but the arrow hit the black point far from the center. “I know your wife can do much better.”

“She can.” Daryl says, and Richard turns to him.

“Morgan said you’re a bowman.” Richard takes the crossbow from the big box between them, holding a calm expression that Daryl doesn’t trust in, but he takes it, glancing at Richard with suspicion.

“Why?”

“Because we want the same things. And I need your help.”

He is talking about the saviors, Daryl knows it well, so he checks the weight of the crossbow in his hands before he lifts it close to his face, ready to shoot.

Daryl and Richard walk down the empty highway with green trees at the sides and a desolate view. The plan is to attack first, a surprise ambush that would cause a war between the Kingdom and the saviors, to then finally kill them to live safe. So they hide behind a big cargo truck by the side of the road, putting down their weapons and backpacks.

“They ride this road. If we see cars: it’s the saviors. They are coming in bands of 2 or 3. That’s why I need you. I can’t take them down alone.” Richard says. He kneels in front of his backpack, pulling the liquor bottles out of it. “We hit them with the guns first, then with the molotovs, and back to the guns until they are dead.”

“Why the fire?”

“It needs to look bad.” But Daryl doesn’t seem convinced, and walks around Richard with his crossbow in hand, forcing him with just a look to continue explaining himself. “The saviors who discovers what’s left…” Richard gets up and turns around to look at Daryl. “We want them to be angry. I left a trail from here to the weapons cache near to an open field that will take them… to a person who practices near here and that Ezekiel cares about.”

Daryl narrows his eyes, because he was too protective to let a person be exposed like that.

“Who’s that?”

“Just a person that will help.”

“Lives in the kingdom?”

“She practices out of there.”

Daryl stops himself.

“It’s a woman?”

Richard frowns, suddenly becoming impatient.

“What’s that matter? She got more balls than you and me together. She’s not gonna die, but when the saviors come and find their friends dead, they will follow the trail and go to the gun’s cache, then to the open field and they’ll try to attack this woman…”

Daryl frowns, growing impatient as well.

“What’s 'er name?”

“They won’t kill her, but that’s gonna show Ezekiel what he needs to do. He will see she was about to get hurt because of the saviors and just then he will fight.”

Richard’s betrayal begins to unfold in front of Daryl’s eyes, but he doesn’t like what he hears, and as a reflection, his hand tightens on the crossbow.

“'er name. What is it?”

“She is tough. She will live.”

The pieces of the puzzle begin to fit in and Daryl starts to have a complete view of Richard’s plan, but he doesn't want to act recklessly until he hears it with his own ears.

“Say 'er damn name!”

He needs to hear it to be sure. However, although his threatening look makes Richard almost surrender, he shows no fear, showing all his disinterest towards your life.

“(Y/N)”

Containing himself so as not to kill Richard at that very moment with a single arrow in his skull is the hardest thing Daryl ever did. But his body is shaking with anger; the blood on his veins freezes as he listens to that man and how he put his wife’s life in danger without remorse. As if your life is worth nothing, as if you didn’t have someone to defend you.

“Are ya fuckin’ crazy?” Daryl talks with a low, yet angry voice. “Ya jus’ dared to put in risk ma wife’s life jus’ ‘cause ya think she can handle a group of saviors?”

“You two told Ezekiel that anything had to be done to stop the saviors.”

Again, even when he has the chance, Daryl uses all his strength to not shoot an arrow in Richard’s face, and he walks around Richard to take his things before leaving that place.

“No.”

“She’ll live. Listen… this is how this has to happen. This is how we will get rid of the saviors. You two stayed in the kingdom for a reason: to prove to Ezekiel we can kill the savior. Together. So we can all have a future.”

“No!” Daryl passes him by, walking away from him.

“If we don’t do something people are gonna die!” Richard walks towards him and Daryl faces him. “People who wants to live!”

“Get the hell away from ma wife, ya hear me?”

Daryl gets close to him, looking straight into his eyes. Richard backs away, but hearing the roar of the cars that approaches in the distance attracts his attention. Daryl drops his backpack off his shoulder and holds his crossbow, watching the saviors’ path toward them coming down the hill.

There, Richard looks at Daryl.

“It’s them. We can wait for things to go bad, lose people, or we can do the hard thing…” He glances back at the saviors for a few seconds before looking at Daryl again. “Or choose our fates for ourselves.”

“No.”

Richard shrugs.

“Sorry.”

He turns around to carry out his plan with or without Daryl’s help, but Daryl drops his crossbow and takes Richard by the collar of his t-shirt to push him to the ground. He tries to fight back, but Daryl holds him with his own arm close to Richard’s neck, to then punch him, over and over until a river of blood descends from his nose to cover part of his face. Richard whines taking a canteen next to his face and hit Daryl, falling onto a side as both crawl on the ground to take their weapons to aim at their faces when they get up.

Richard breathes through his parted and broken lips and nods towards the saviors.

“There will be more. Or they will come back later, and we will have another chance. But we are running out of time. Your people need the kingdom to beat the saviors… We have to make sacrifices in one way or another. Guys like us… we’ve already lost so much.”

Daryl sees in his eyes the sadness for his loss, but that would never justify taking the life of another person to win that fight, not that way.

“Ya don’t know me.”

“I know that (Y/N) is stronger than us.”

To Richard’s surprise, Daryl lowers his crossbow, but the fierce look in his eyes is enough to make Richard take a step back.

“I’ll tell ya this jus’ once: If ma wife gets hurt, she dies, she catches a fever, she gets taken out by a walker, she gets hit by lighting, anythin’ happens to her, I’ll kill ya. Even if she jus’ gets a small cut in ‘er body, I’ll kill ya. So from now on: don’t talk to 'er, don’t look at 'er, don’t breathe near 'er. Fuck, don't even think about 'er.”

Richard holds his breath, looking at Daryl straight in his eyes.

“I would die for the kingdom.”

Daryl looks back at him, without any fear but with boiling anger.

“Why don’t ya?”

And then, he takes his backpack, his crossbow, and Daryl leaves.

When you turn off the lamp on the night table of your room, the light of the night comes in softly through the closed window, and you lay down sideways on your side of the bed as Daryl covers you with the blanket.

“Ya won’t take your clothes off?” He asks as he hugs you from behind.

“No…” You lie. “I’m cold.”

“I can help ya with that.” He says softly and moves to get closer to you. His arm hold you against him, giving you part of his warm. “Don’t worry ‘bout anythin’. No one ain’t gonna hurt ya. We’ll leave this place in a few days.”

You hold his hand on yours, waiting for him to fall sleep.

The anxiety and the fear inside you become one within you as the minutes pass in a dead silence. But suddenly, the world around you seems like a lie because everything is as quiet as if there were no walkers on the other side of the big gates, as if Richard hadn’t tried to hurt you without any remorse. Daryl told you because you already knew that something was happening and because he wanted you to stop going to that open field to practice. He couldn’t protect you without telling the truth. However, what hurt you the most is thinking how a life could mean nothing in the hands of other people: as if they had any rights over it. But the truth hits you hard too; because you did the same thing the first time you defended yourself from someone who tried to kill you for your weapon.

That didn’t make you a killer, too? Then, the guilt falls on you, the harsh reality of a murderer who tries to justifies a murder, just as Richard tried to do, just as you did. Everyone there, good or bad people were doing the same thing. Killing. Taking lives away. And you realized you couldn’t be part of all that. Not because you were weak but because you didn’t want to be the survivor that sees its friends die. And what if you die in the middle of the battle? Dying and causing pain to others, was that worth it? Or to stay alive but live in a constant pain? That life was like playing Russian roulette: none of you knew who could die or live, but all had to play. No exception. But you couldn’t stay and do it, so that night, you left before the game started.

That same night, you leave your backpack on the small bed and look around the place in that cold lonely night. It is a two-bedroom cabin. It is old, small but cozy, much better than a bed in the kingdom. This was a place you found days ago without telling anybody, not even Daryl. And as you lay down there, you hope that is the last time you start a new beginning far from killing, far from the fear of losing people, even if you had just lost your husband.

In the very early morning, near the garden of the Kingdom, a commotion catches Morgan and King Ezekiel’s attention. They run to the group of people who gathers around a fight, but no one is able to stop a wild Daryl, who is over Richard, punching him over and over until Morgan takes him by the arms and pulls him out of Richard before he could kill him. Daryl gets up and breathes hardly through his parted lips, watching Richard still on the ground and unable to move, or breathe.

“What is happening?!” Ezekiel asks, holding Richard and looking around. “Walk away, people. There is a lot to do today.”

The people listen, and Ezekiel glances at Daryl.

“Tell me right now why you did this.”

“That piece of shit did somethin’ to ma wife. She left!” Daryl is about to fall over Richard again, but Morgan holds him back. “I told him to stay away from ‘er!”

Ezekiel gets up leaving Richard on the ground, too weak to get himself up.

“What did Richard do to (Y/N)?”

Daryl looks at Ezekiel, not wanting to say what happened.

“Let him tell ya, I’ll go find ma wife.”

Daryl takes his crossbow from the ground and walks away with big steps towards the gates. Behind him, Morgan is following him.

“Daryl… Did (Y/N) leave a note?”

But he doesn’t stop.

“She wanted to get away from this fight. She doesn’t wanna see 'er friends being killed.”

“Because she knows that some of us could die.”

Daryl hates the way Morgan talks, like if Daryl didn’t understand that could happen. So, he turns around, giving Morgan a threatening look.

“Don’t talk to me like I was a damn child. Killin’ the saviors is the only way for me to make sure ma wife and friends will have a safe life.”

“Even if someone dies in the process?”

But Daryl doesn’t answer, and he yells at the man in charge of the gates to open it up. He walks out, completely sure he would find you sooner or later.

During a silent and almost deafening sunset, you walk through the forest near your house, with the quiver on your back and the bow in your hand, looking for some animal to eat. Everything is as it should be in the forest, everything there belongs to its place. Except you. But still listening to the birds sing in the long distance, you make your way until you find a squirrel that moves from here to there on the branch of a tree. You pull an arrow from the quiver; you connect it to the bow and lift it to the correct height close to your face, holding the air in your lungs. However, as a sudden sadness covers you because you couldn’t stop killing, another arrow flies close to you and sinks into the animal’s body.

You gasp in acknowledgment, so you turn around to see Daryl walking close to you, with your heart beating fast against your chest. He stops in front of you, looking at you through his head slightly down, just like he did when he was sad. He did that just with you, because just with you he was able to show how he truly felt, without feeling ashamed of feeling weak.

“This is the moment when you ask me why the hell I left you.” You say through the knot in your throat, but he just shakes his head softly.

“This is the moment when I say I missed ya.” He approaches you, almost afraid as if you are not real, and he puts his arms around you to embrace your waist, hiding his face in your neck, at the same time that you let go of the bow to feel him close to you. “I missed ya.”

As you sit down in your little bed, kicking your black boots off, Daryl leaves his backpack on the table in the middle of the room and looks inside for something. But before you know what it is, he throws it at you and you catch it perfectly. It is a peach, because he knows how much you like them. As you clean it against your clothes, Daryl sits in the chair that gives him a perfect view of you, resting his elbow against the wood, holding his chin in his hand.

“Explain it to me ‘cause I don’t get it.” He makes a gesture with his hand to point around the place. “I said I would protect ya. We were ‘bout to leave that place. But ya just walked away in the middle of the night… Why?”

His voice fill with disappointment pierces your ears, but you try to gather your ideas so that he understands your reasons.

“I’m tired. I’m afraid. And I don’t wanna see any of our friends being killed…and I realized I can’t neither. It’s too much to handle. I can kill, like, a person, and that’s what really scares me. I know they killed our friends, but this revenge, or justice, or whatever you want to call it: it will only endanger our people, and we will see more blood. And then we will have nightmares about their deaths, and we will not know what is worse: if sleep only to have nightmares about their deaths, or live awake in this real-life nightmare. I know I’m being selfish because they are willing to fight, but I can’t lose you or them.” You feel the tears in your eyes, but you rub your face with your hands to not let them fall right now. “I don’t want to be around if that happens.”

Daryl looks at you, rubbing his finger against his lip, trying to contain his own anger. He didn’t want to act like he used to, he didn’t want to yell at you for leaving him just the way you did. But that was hard for him too, it was too painful, almost impossible to bear the days he was without you, thinking that something bad could have happened to you because he couldn’t protect you. But right there, in front of you, he wants to tell you how scared he was when he didn’t find you by his side that morning, and that he couldn’t sleep the days after that.

“So what?” He says with a raspy voice. “What ‘bout me? I’m yer husband. Did ya think I’d jus’ sit there and do nothin’? That I would jus’ let ya get away from me? That was yer plan? Make me love ya and then leave me?”

Daryl was the strongest man, but the weakest too when it was about you. And you knew, that in that world or in the previous one, love was still a dangerous feeling, sometimes even more dangerous than a walker.

“That’s not true, Daryl: you know it.”

He laughs harshly.

“I realized I don’t know anythin’ about the woman I’m married to.”

“Ouch… That hurts.” You chuckle tiredly, then sighing until you found the right words. “I think it would be better if you get angry with me, if you kick the chair and tell me what I did wrong.”

Daryl takes a deep breath, trying to calm his wild heart.

“Nah. Ya are here with me now.” But, suddenly, he stands up, taking off his vest in his way to you, his gaze locked on yours as he begins to unbutton his shirt next. “But I think I need ya to learn your lesson in a different way.”

Your mouth is dry, and your own heart begins to beat at an alarming pace.

“Daryl… what are you doing?”

As he reaches the edge of the bed, he tosses his shirt aside, while, with the gentleness that didn’t usually characterize him on the outside, his thumb caresses your soft cheek, a warm contrast to his finger.

“Have ya ever been scared of me?”

Though he’s referring to that situation happening now in particular, you know he’s asking in general as well, if, perhaps, at some point in your marriage, you’ve seen him through different eyes. Perhaps with a fear reflected in them, a silent fear that would be overwhelming for him. But you shake your head, your gentle gaze on his ocean-colored eyes.

Daryl was a tender lover behind his tough appearance, and you were never scared, not by him.

“No. You know damn well I have not.”

“Not even once?”

His own doubt makes you smile a little bit.

“Not even once, Dixon, I know well you have a soft spot for me.”

“Hell yeah, woman, n’ only for ya.” He says, so serious like never before. “So if that’s true, lay down n’ lemme show ya how damn much I missed ya.”

You do as he tells you, your gaze on the wooden roof, feeling the knot in your stomach traveling to your lower part as he unbuttons and unzips your black jeans. It's torturously slow, but you know he's doing it as part of the lesson, because he's never denied you pleasure before. Since your marriage began, he was always a giver, taking your own pleasure as his own. It was like a rule for him to give you all the pleasure, and then give you a little more.

But when he removes all your clothes and his breath and his beard tickle your most sensitive area, your hands look blindly something to hold yourself onto, his long hair maybe, but he just pushes your hands away.

“No touchin’.” He says, dangerously low.

However, when his strong hands cling to your hips, his mouth sinking into you, you let out a tight gasp, your knees bending up. But the way he is moving against you as you move against him, too, makes him feel so needy for you, like he is in a beautiful hell. Your hands still in the air closed almost painfully, eyes closing too, arching your back, and mouth falling finally open.

“Daryl, wait–”

“Shut it.” He warns you, keeping his warm mouth close to your entrance. “Fuck, why ya always taste so damn good? Makes me wanna live in between your legs all the fuckin’ time.”

He wasn’t normally a very talkative person, but when Daryl was on the right mood he loved saying things that he knew would turn you on, leading you to the edge of being out of breath. He loved playing with you like he does again, his mouth kissing and licking and sucking, fingers holding onto the bones on your waist. The angry animal inside him woke up when you moan with open lips, sending a painful throbbing to the hardness in his pants.

He sucks hard on you, making you shake against him, holding yourself onto the blanket even when you want to hold his hair. But feeling you so needy for him, and only for him makes him feel about to explode, but he stops himself from lower one of his hand to his pants to stroke his manhood.

Daryl starts to feeling you moving against his face, and he takes pride that he could make you cum without being inside you, yet, because he’s not going to let you do that, hell no. No matter how much he enjoyed torturing you that way, he is ready to give you so much pleasure you wouldn’t think ever again about leaving him, no when he couldn’t live without you anymore.

So Daryl stands up, removing his hands from your body, giving you the time to catch some air as he unbuckles his belt, like the most erotic image in the world. His strong and naked chest rises and falls as he locks eyes with you, his mouth in a tight line as he removes his belt, not ready to smile even a little to you as you bite your own lips, hiding a smile.

“I will never be scared of you, but it scares me a little bit what is coming.”

He is kind of angry, but not with you, but with the idea of being a little bit animalistic, like to roll over onto your knees so he could hold himself on your hips, maybe even on your hair, pulling it just a little like he has done a few times when you two were getting playful.  

“Ya should be.” He says, so low and dangerous as he unbuttons his pants. “Now take the rest of yer clothes off.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, sitting back down to pull off your black t-shirt, with nothing underneath. The complete view of your now naked body is such a temptation for him, so much that he thinks he would give up soon. But no, he’s stronger than that.

“Now lay back down, n’ spread your legs open for me.”

Fuck. You think that couldn’t get any hotter, but you know it could with that look in his deep gaze, so you lick your dry lip and look back at him as he kicks his boots off, taking off his pants and his boxer next, while, still sitting, you try to look up only, even when there is a whole spectacle at the level of your own gaze.  

“Should I call you sir while I do that?” You smile sweetly at him, playing innocent.

And for the first time in the night, Daryl smiles back.

“I’m yer fuckin’ husband, peach, the same person that’s gonna make love to ya, maybe that way ya won’t leave me ever again. Now do as I tell ya.”

Though you can hear the sadness in his words, his voice doesn’t waver, not when he’s so ready to do what he promised, so with nothing else on your mind, you lay back down on the bed, spreading your legs as an invitation that Daryl immediately takes. He lays on top of you, and you can almost feel his own heartbeat as he sinks into you with one hand, while the other arm holds him up too close to your face. You feel him throbbing inside of you, and he holds himself on his legs, his free hand looking for the softness of your face to hold you there, kissing you deeply.

Your own hands hold his lower back, and this time, he lets you touch him freely. The warm of your fingers is melting him, but when he starts to move, he drowns your moans and his tense grunts in a kiss. His calloused hand grasps your face with a firmness but a sweet touch, as if you are a piece of glass, the most precious in the world, in his world.

Daryl never felt so primitive and he is too drunk with lust, but there is something intense and so erotic in the idea that he could push himself deeper into you, and that you would take everything and even beg for more. So he does, he presses into you deeper, harder than ever but not in a painful way because hurting you wasn’t in his nature, but he is taking you to the very edge in no time. You called out his name against his mouth as he starts moving faster against you, making you feel the tension building up on your stomach and in between your legs, so hot like hell itself, as intense as the beginning of the orgasm that is about to hit you soon if he keeps moving that way.

But it feels different from other times, short but in a new kind of intense. His thumb caresses your check, his forehead resting on your just a moment before he buries his face in your neck, the same finger sliding over your bottom lip, and that little action is so hot. The sounds he starts making against your neck are an arousing melody, sounds he muffles against your hair on his own path to much-needed release.

Your hands hold his lower back even harder, pulling him against you, your mouth against his shoulder, drowning out the forbidden sounds that come from between your lips, the view of the world fading as you close your eyes while letting out a hot cry as he makes you cum.

Finally, Daryl spills himself inside you, breathing through parted lips as he catches his breath.

After a long minute, or maybe two and when you can breathe again, you speak softly.

“I’m sorry, I never wanted to leave you alone, or make you think that I don't love you.”

Daryl raises his head, getting lost in the way you ask for his forgiveness with your eyes, too. But in that moment, he knows everything will be alright.

“So ya won’t leave me again?” He asks softly, but, too deep in your own sadness to speak properly, you just shake your head. “Good. ‘Cause ya got to know I’ll chase ya to the end of the fuckin’ world, burnin’ everythin' on ma way ‘till I find ya.”

[jamtartandsunshine]

Roys been helping his sister raise Phoebe for the little girls entire life. He’s lost count of how many times he’s woken up to the little gremlin standing beside his bed, or even creepier standing in the doorway, the faint light of the lamp he leaves on in the hallway for her eerily glowing behind her.

He’s used to it.

So when he wakes up to a faint knock and his bedroom door opening with a slow creak it’s muscle memory that has him shuffling over in bed and flinging back his quilt before he’s even cracked open his heavy eyes.

“Roy?”

The voice makes Roy jolt awake. It’s deeper, even in a soft whisper, but more than that is the tremble in the single word. The hesitation, the fear has Roy sitting up blinking against the familiar glow of the hall light.

Except this time he hadn’t turned it on for his niece, she was safe at home tucked into her own bed.

And yet he’d hesitated at the light switch after seeing his player safely to bed in the guest room. Something inside him making him flip the light on, almost as if he knew this moment would come.

“Jamie” Roy grunts his voice heavy with sleep “you okay?”

He looks so young standing in the doorway of Roy’s bedroom, wringing his hands nervously, his shoulders hunched in way that makes Roy frown at him, knowing it must be aggravating the bruised ribs that lay hidden beneath the borrowed hoodie the young man is wearing.

“Dunno” Jamie mutters nervously. “Sorry-I-I dunno what I’m doing…I’ll just…” he takes a step back, stumbling into the door.

“Jamie” Roy calls sitting up straighter reaching out to pull the quilt back further in silent invitation.

Jamies eyes widen at the gesture, looking over at Roy longingly but he doesn’t move. His hands drift under his hoodie, pulling the black material taunt as he fidgets anxiously.

Roy can’t help the tired sigh that slips out. Regrets floods through him as Jamie flinches back at the sound and Roy silently berates himself.

“It’s okay” he encourages tiredly patting the empty space beside him “I won’t fucking bite, let’s just get some sleep yeah?”

He watches as Jamie fights with himself but after a moment he clearly makes his choice as he slowly moves forward towards the bed.

“Sorry” Jamie whispers as he carefully crawls into Roy’s bed. Roy immediately notes that he’s trembling almost violently “M’ being fuckin’ stupid…just…I heard a car door slam and I dunno…” his voice drops as his unconsciously sinks closer to Roy “I got scared…S’ stupid”

“It’s not fucking stupid” Roy grunts laying back down, shifting onto his side so he can look at Jamie in the dim moonlight. “It’s completely fucking understandable after the shit day you’ve had”

Jamie makes a small noise of acknowledgment but he doesn’t relax.

“Do you think you can go back to sleep?”

Jamie hesitates, the trembling picking back up a little “dunno” he almost whimpers. “I…I dunno”

It’s too much. Jamie’s scared and shaking, covered in bruises and all Roy can think of is how he’d flinched at every sudden movement that night, every sound.

The thing is, Roys been helping his sister raise Phoebe for the little girls entire life. He’s lost count of how many times he’s wiped away tears, or soothed nightmares. And while Jamie’s not Roy’s nine year old niece, he is a scared kid and Roy can’t just pretend Jamie’s not crying next to him and go back to sleep.

He shifts closer to Jamie. Slowly, and cautiously being careful not to startle him “don’t fucking laugh at me” he warns lightly “but do you want a cuddle?”

[bull-at-the-gate]

Sehkmet the Just. Devoted Paladin of The Lord of the North Wind; The Wyrmking; King of Good Dragons; The Platinum Dragon Bahamut

More silly Tavs. haha can we tell that I started out drawing animals and have for way longer than I’ve drawn people?

Sehkmet’s an Oath of Vengeance Paladin and always keeps her word, or will die in the attempt.

I imagine she’s been resurrected once before after falling in battle against the cult of Tiamat.

She devoted her life to serving as an instrument for Bahamut’s vengeance after losing her clan to followers of Tiamat as a wee cub.

So she’s very devout, but also gets to be a whole himbo, as a treat. She and Hollow (my durge) would ask together with full earnestness ‘what animal is the pink panther’ and Sehkmet would probably forget after a week.

Some Headcanon-y Things

Heals by giving lil’ forehead kisses and will absolutely not tolerate anyone hiding injuries, she’s lost too many a good ally to let that slide.

Helps with cooking by prepping the food so Gale has a little less work to do; Can freeze food for later too

White Dragonborn are more adapt for the cold, so Sehkmet’s got a thick downy fur, ideal for cuddling; everyone has slept with at least once for the best platonic cuddles (maybe minus Lae’zel until much later)

Has no idea what a shirt is, not really, but she prefers to go without when resting. Only somewhat understands modesty, everything for Dragonborn is extremely internal so she understands in concept, but not necessarily for herself

Does laundry for everyone, finds the repetitiveness to be meditative and is particular about strong smells, so doing it is a win-win. Patches up any holes she finds too.

Fascinated by hair, loves to style it and learned how to when a few war clerics taught her to. Lae’zel, Shadowheart, and Gale all thought she was giving them *the look* but she just wanted to play with and style their hair.

I need to practice muscular bodies a bit, but she’s built like a seven-foot tall truck and hits like a train.

Can only see out of one eye, lost total use of her right one while training to join her order but the vision had been failing most of her life.

She was a secret fan of *The Blade of Frontiers* before meeting Wyll because she’d heard he also only had one functioning eye and was still able to be a champion of the people.

did not, however, realize she was older than him. She’s still a fan.

Spends at least one evenings each tenday polishing and caring for the party’s armor, after proving to Lae’zel she did an acceptable enough job to be entrusted hers as well.

Scarily fast, especially out of her armor. She was too slow, once, to save a cleric who’d trusted her to be their shield. She’d vowed to never be too slow again, and she always keeps her word.

Offers mercy and a second chance unless it’s been proven to her that a beaten enemy won’t do better; She follows Bahamut’s own words on the matter, no justice without mercy and no penance without forgiveness

Would probably be a theater kid

Spars with Lae’zel and Karlach on the regular in camp. I like the idea that Dragonborn can replace teeth but it’s not common knowledge yet, so it’s funny to picture:

Karlach knocking out a couple teeth and being extremely apologetic and starts looking for the teeth

Sehkmet’s just confused because she’s assumed her whole life everyone’s teeth regrow and is confused why Karlach’s dragging Shadowheart over with her old teeth asking if she can put them back.

Lae’zel is amused (Gith definitely would also be able to regrow teeth, selectively bred warrior race and all) and uses the moment for one of her lovely little Githyanki supremacy tangents.

Sehkmet is just standing there, staring at the horizon in concern, like ‘You all don’t regrow teeth?!’ and thinking about how many belated apologies she needs to make

Karlach is still holding bloody teeth

Lae’zel and Shadowheart are fighting (flirting) again

Astarion is over by the cookout bugging Gale and watching the show

Gale and Wyll are still thinking at least they’re normal

the Emperor is still imploring you to eat a tadpole.

[chugging-antiseptic-dye]

[inspired by this post by @synthetickitsune. i love it so much <3]

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭

“Hey, are you even listening?”

“S-sorry, I just zoned out.” You muttered out the apology as you glanced away from the commotion across the plaza.

Waving a breadstick in front of your face, Jieun continued, “ I know the hero’s party is mesmerizing. But, Y/N, we are at the bottom of the pecking order here. You can’t get distracted by them! No matter what happens, do you think Jeonghan will notice us? Or, god forbid, Joshua?

“He won’t?” You reply distractingly as your eyes kept moving by itself towards the boy sitting at the center of the table. A shadow of a smile constant on his lips.

Slamming one hand on the table, Jieun said with a kind of desperate urgency in her voice, “ No! He! Won’t! He is a big shot hero. He saved the world! What are you not getting here? Please don’t let the first friend I make be braindead. I will so start crying.”

“Okay, okay. Don’t cry please.” You take both of her hands into your own and look right into her eyes, trying to convey your sincerity. Because you can’t let your new friend cry. Not when she was the only human connection you had left in the world. Trying to capture the right words from the cloudy sea of thoughts in your head, you say, “I will listen to you, don’t worry. We only have each other here.”

At this Jieun let out a small relieved smile and went on about the guild rules. The afternoon passed away swiftly with the warmth of the soft winter sun, delicious teacakes, and comforting company. Yet, when you lay down at night, you can’t help unfurl the tightly bound thoughts in your head. You can’t help recalling Joshua’s smile when he was with his friends. There he was, looking so fondly at them,as always. “My family”, he called them as you two laid side by side under the dim glow of the sun. He would whisper things in the vein of “there is nothing I would not sacrifice for them”. You wanted to ask then, “Even me? Will you even sacrifice me?” Well, now you know your answer considering he slit your throat for them for everyone.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭

a/n: almost everyday i think about the 'svt + who would sacrifice you to save the world vs sacrifice the world to save you' post and i think about why joshua wants to be happy about his choice. what actually happened that made him do it? What if he didn't give the person he sacrificed a choice to save the world or die? What if he made the choice for them? What if they came back and saw him mourning them? Would they forgive him for the betrayal? Or would Joshua have to live knowing that he has the everyone's adoration for saving him but your loathing for dooming you? delicious, delicious angst hehe

[hannahssimblr]

Pretending to be good at driving isn’t as easy as I assumed. It’s not like pretending to be into wine, or classical music, or other such things that allow you to nod along and smile, and make statements bland enough to seem vaguely knowledgeable. Italians drive on the right, and I’m terrified, yet one of my hands is nonchalantly out the open window of the rental car, resting against warm metal, while the other white knuckles the wheel. Tyres toss dust into the air behind us, and I feel like we’re starring in a film about Americans in southern Italy, where the sky is colour graded cyan blue, and the greens bleached out, dulled to bone dry ochre so that you know it is hot and poor. 

I don’t think I have ever been much of a driver, despite the belief of my classmates back at school who assumed I must be, simply because I owned a car. Yes, I could drive it. I could control the clutch, shift the gears and manoeuvre myself into a parking space with semi-accuracy, but the traffic in Dublin was so diabolical that I spent most of my driving career crawling by, metre by metre, bumper to bumper until I’d give up, pull into the train station and get the DART the rest of the way. The other times, I was having disappointing sex in the passenger seat, or eating ice creams from McDonalds, a dead eyed stare over the bay on Fridays after school, just to have a way to unwind. 

The road to Amalfi is a narrow twist of hairpin turns carved from a mountain, climbing above little towns and a verdant landscape which I picture dried to brush by the time July’s heat comes, a landscape in sepia tones.

Warm, dry air kisses my sweat dampened skin as I climb out of the car to the smell of the sea. Salt and seaweed, and fish, from a seafood restaurant by the water. Waves lap against the shore in a gentle symphony as seagulls circle above the vibrant hum of a busy tourist town. 

The first thing Astrid wants to do is take photographs. And so, she perches on a low wall, against a backdrop of azure waters and green capped mountains, and poses for the camera. I take several, in a variety of positions, and indulge her whims by digging her straw hat out from the car boot so that she can pose with it, one hand on the brim as she looks out over the Tyrrhenian sea like it is her kingdom. 

I get her to take some with me, too, using the front facing camera on my phone, then choose one to send to my mother. 

We’re in Italy. Wonderful. Enjoy. 

I suspect it will be weeks before we communicate again. 

“It looks like it did on the website, anyway,” I say, as I unload our cases outside our villa. It is loaded with picturesque, old-world charm, the brick exterior crumbling slightly from salt and age. We decided that a villa with a pool would suit us best when I booked it, surmising we would appreciate a swim before breakfast under the morning sun. I gaze at my reflection now, a ripple of dark hair against the cloudless sky and take a moment to relax my shoulders, and thank God it will be ten days before I have to drive those perilous roads again.

 Our footsteps echo against the hallway tile. Astrid gazes around her as I haul our bags upstairs. 

“It’s quite nice,” she says, an understatement that incites a chuckle from me. This is the nicest place I’ve ever stayed at, including a family member’s desert guest house in Palm Springs. It is perfect. From behind the wrought iron banisters I spy a small living room, white linen couches and a bowl of fresh oranges on the table, and suspect they are from the tree outside. 

“It’s a marvellous view from here,” Astrid says at the bedroom window while I roll the last of our cases across the floor towards the wardrobe. I won’t want to unpack them. I usually live out of my bags while I’m travelling, but I suspect Astrid will like things hung up and put away. With the heat and the exhaustion from travelling, I cannot face the thought. I join her at the window, where we look out upon a small dock, little coloured boats floating in water so serene, so clear that we can see their shadows at the bottom of the sea.

“Woah, yeah. It’s pretty here, huh?”

“I told you that,” she says, leaning into my chest. “I think this is the best place in the world.” 

“Touristy, though, don’t you think?” Across the little bay, the coastal road is traffic jammed, holidaymakers weaving between the cars. A tour yacht glides by, its linen clad passengers pointing their cameras toward the charming little houses that cling to the mountainside, including ours. I raise my hand to wave at them, though I’m certain they cannot see us. 

“We are tourists too,” she points out. “It’s good for the economy. If we weren’t here, the restaurants and craft shops would have to close.”

I hum in vague agreement, caught in between two ways of thinking. Jonas paced my room as I packed my bags for the airport, giving me a spirited, if not slightly manic, lecture about the perils of tourism, from environmental degradation, cultural disruption, exploitation and overcrowding. 

“Shut up,” I said. “You and I are going to Thailand in June.” And he argued it was different, because he had intentions of learning about the cultures and traditions, and being respectful, unlike all the other tourists, trying to take pictures in the temples with their shoes still on and eating in Subway instead of trying a new cuisine. 

Still, the conversation has left me with a vague feeling of nuisance I’ve never experienced while travelling abroad. I look around this bedroom, the voile curtains fluttering in the breeze that floats through the open balcony door, and fear I am gentrifying the town just by standing here. What if they hate me, the locals, and the chino trousers in my suitcase, the way my hair is pushed back, my trendy little sunglasses? I couldn’t even ask for water in Italian if I wanted to.

But Astrid can. Perfect, clever Astrid. She gazes at her appearance in the mirror, and smooths out her dress, which shows no signs of having been travelled in. She combs her fingers through her pin straight hair, and a strand comes loose, floating through the sun rays like a strand of white silk. 

I wrap my arms around her waist and kiss her neck. “This is a great room, hm?”

“Yes, it’s spacious.”

“We could spend a lot of time in here.” I slide my hand over her ribs and cup her breasts. She sighs and lifts them away. “Don’t. Not now. We’ll put creases in the fabric.”

“You can change into another outfit.” God knows, she has packed enough clothes. 

She twists out of my arms and opens her suitcase on the bed, retrieving her toothbrush. “I don’t feel clean after travelling. I’d need time to have a shower and freshen myself up first.”

To this, I laugh. “I don’t really care about that, to be honest. Like, I’ll go down on you no matter–”

“Well, I do.” She pushes through to the adjacent bathroom. The tap squeaks, and water splashes into the sink. “I want to see the town, anyway. I don’t want to waste the day in bed together.”

“I never think a day is wasted like that.”

“Well, we can do it later. Perhaps after dinner.”

“Very organised,” I say, and she doesn’t respond. She’s brushing her teeth. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

[nerdishpursuits]

I want both Marta and Fina to get their pound of flesh. Death by a thousand cuts isn’t punishment enough for Santiasco and I look forward to them figuring out how to neutralise the threat he poses (with this kind of man, investigating his past could prove beneficial; his obsession with Fina feels pathological, so there should be a pattern with previous behaviour; his rabid desire that she rots in prison for being a lesbian is borderline fanatical). So I really cannot wait for this spineless, narcissistic misogynist to get his comeuppance (kudos to the actor though, for doing such a great job at making Santiago utterly loathsome)

Once again it’s proven Mafin has no equal on this show. Theirs is the healthiest, most beautiful and awe-inspiring relationship. It’s on an entirely different level and, on the cusp of 200 episodes, still eclipses all that surrounds it. They’ve set the bar so high nothing else compares or competes. The way they love each other, so selflessly and unconditionally, so fervently and self-sacrificing. The rest can only shield their eyes, for you can stare at the sun but not at Mafin. They burn that brightly.

Digna and Marta’s heart-to-heart has been a treat. I’m glad my initial suspicions about Digna seem to have been exaggerated (then again, the actress has this way of keeping you guessing which way the character will sway, and it threw me; she lulls you into a state of complacency, then has you questioning her motives, then has you eating out of her palm again; well played, Madam, well played). That being said: I’m glad Marta and Fina have more support during this devastating time, so they can take off their masks, if only for a moment. And support, empathy, love and affection are sorely needed.

The Mafin jail scenes we’re getting? Devastatingly beautiful. It’s all so cataclysmic, brimming with anguish and hopelessness but the drama is exquisite. And damn, if Marta and Alba aren’t taking their acting, and us, to new heights!!! Fina’s unwavering valor though shrouded in terror, Marta’s crippling despair though mustering all her bravery and resilience. They’re down in the gutter for now but I can’t wait for Fina’s liberation and their desperation to reconnect, to feel safe in each other’s arms again.

Tasio, the consummate troglodyte. I struggle to see what Carmen sees in him, especially given his character arc is one step forward, one leap back. His lack of empathy and rampant misogyny are off-putting and I don’t know why I expected more from today’s scene. Presumably, he’ll grow at some point. But until then? The little discourse about his stomach turning at the thought of Carmen having shared quarters with Fina? Despicable and infuriating. Whether 1958 or 2024? Like my partner likes to say: the more things change, the more they stay the same.

Someone raise Gaspar a statue. That man is the only one on the show who merits standing ovations (except maybe for Mateo). He can run circles around his fellow men in terms of empathy, loyalty, kindness and friendship. They’d all do well to follow his example. Alas, we know they won’t. Not really. Luis and Joaquin most likely, given their father’s personal history. And Andres is an ally but, apparently, only there for decoration. Damián is at least helping, in his own way, given he’s terrified for Marta and wants to keep her safe. (I think he grasped there’s no separating his daughter from Fina, so he needs to think of them as inseparable). Conclusion: #OneManArmyGaspar

The rumor-mill is already hard at work within the colony and damn if that’s not the last thing they need on top of everything else. Funny how no one’s talking about Santiago’s unwanted advances towards Fina or his aggression towards her. They can’t catch a break, can they? Oh well. One hurdle at a time.

Finally: at this point, does anyone not know what Fina is being accused of? The news is spreading like wildfire and seems impossible to contain anymore. I shudder to think at the damage control that might require. At this point? I’d say Damián could marry her, thus giving Fina the lawful protection of the De la Reina family. Far from ideal but it’s not like he’s going to marry anyone else, given the Digna boat has tanked spectacularly and irreversibly. Least he can do is secure Marta and Fina’s future in a way that’s harder to contest in the eyes of the law, ensuring they can be together without raising too many suspicions. A far-fetched idea, of course, but it does feel like a plausible scenario to me. Rather outlandish, but plausible.

[himluv]

Determination and Benevolence

Who's ready for some more Lucanis fic?? We're going back to the start with this one!

Lucanis stood in the Lighthouse courtyard and tried to ignore the itch behind his eyes.

No! Spite yelled.  No! Get out. Out, OUT!

Lucanis sighed. “We are out, Spite.”

Nooooo. Trapped still.

The demon was reacting to Lucanis’s own unease about living in some strange corner of the Fade. This was the second to last place he wanted to be, even if it was breath-taking.

Breath. Taken. Too tight. TRAPPED. The demon flitted from one side of the courtyard to another, glaring and seething at the nothingness beyond the Lighthouse.

Behind them, the door to the library opened. Rook stepped out, barefoot in her casual Arlathan leathers. The autumnal colors lent a pleasing warmth to her pale skin, and her auburn hair shone in the warm fadelight. This elf was still a mystery to him. A Dalish, shorter than him, but standing up to her own blighted gods?

He couldn’t help but admire such determination.

“Ready for the tour?” She asked.

TOUR? Spite flickered into being a little too close to Rook, sniffing up her body like a dog hunting for treats. 

“It’s really short,” she said. “I promise.”

Lucanis gave her a weak smile. “Lead the way.”

Rook didn’t move. Instead she pointed toward a building joined to the courtyard by a twisted mix of stones and roots. “That’s Harding’s room,” she said. “Lots of plants in there, which is nice.”

Then she pointed over Lucanis’s shoulder. “That’s Bellaria’s room. She’s always tinkering with some magical artifact or another, so,” she grimaced, “maybe knock first?”

Finally, she started to walk away from the library. “This,” she said, pointing at what appeared to be a stone market stall at the center of the courtyard, “is the Caretaker’s shop.”

“The Caretaker?”

She shrugged. “It’s a spirit, the one that brought us through the Crossroads.”

Spite sniffed the air in front of the stall, then spat. Benevolence.

“Apparently it takes care of the Lighthouse, repairs things and opens new sections as we need them.”

Lucanis raised an eyebrow at her. “That isn’t strange to you?”

“Not really,” she said. “A lot of spirits have a purpose or function that they like to fulfill.”

No! Spite said. No purpose, only spite.

Lucanis ignored him. “Do you have much experience with spirits?” Perhaps she would know something that could help him get rid of the demon.

“Some,” she said. “I’m a mage, and the veil was thin in Arlathan way before Solas tore it open.”

She continued walking, and pointed to another structure on their left. “That’s Neve’s room. She’s got a lot of notes tacked up all over the place, and a bit of a wisp problem.”

No help! Spite said, suddenly at Lucanis’s side. Won’t help you! Trapped.

Rook led him up a worn set of steps and into a large dark room. “And this is the dining hall.”

Lucanis glanced around the room. It looked as if it hadn’t been used since its last occupants left. Half the furniture was broken, the hearth stood empty, and nothing about the place smelled even remotely like a kitchen.

Starving, Spite whispered. Can’t. Even. EAT!

“This is where you eat?” Lucanis didn’t want to be judgmental, but this? This was unacceptable.

“Uh. Yeah,” Rook said. “Sometimes?” She rubbed the back of her neck. “Bellara’s started cooking some.”

Lucanis took a deep breath and nodded. “I’ll talk to her and get a cooking rotation started.”

Rook gave him a curious look. “You cook?”

“Of course.”

She blushed. “Oh, well. Good.” She cleared her throat. “That’s, uh, good.”

Spite stood at her side, his face far too close to hers. Embarrassed. Why?

Lucanis had no idea, but was confident it was his fault. He was good at killing people, not so much at talking to them.

He winced. “I’ll make a shopping list,” he said. ”Let me know if there’s anything you want.”

Her face lit up at the prospect. “That’s great, Lucanis! The pantry is pretty empty.” She took him into the room to the right of the fireplace. 

“Mierda,” he breathed. Did these women not eat? There were two large wheels of Ferelden cheese he could only assume were from Harding. A few slabs of jerky of an unknown origin, and several jars of honey. That was it.

“As for sleeping quarters–”

“This is fine,” he said.

She stared at him. “The… pantry?”

He gave her a tiny smile. “I’ll make do.” Even this sad, empty pantry was an upgrade from the Ossuary. Plus, it only had one way in or out. In his line of work, choke points were as good as gold. 

“If you’re sure,” she said, sounding anything but. 

“I am, thank you.” And though he didn’t mean to sound dismissive, he heard it there in his voice. It had been an incredibly long and eventful day. 

“Okay then,” she said. “I’ll, uh, let you get settled in.”

Thinks you’re strange. Thinks you’re WRONG.

She wasn’t the only one. Lucanis watched her go, then leaned against the cabinet holding eight jars of honey. He’d thought killing ancient elven gods would be the hardest part of this contract, but looking around the dining hall, Lucanis sighed. 

He had his work cut out for him.

[dreamscapeee222]

Got a request: Arcane characters x Noxian deserter reader. As in after the final battle, the reader leaves the army after seeing the wanton carnage and how the world almost ended there.

A/n: Hello!! Hope what I did has suited what you had in mind ^^

Vi, Jinx, Caitlyn, Ekko, Jayce, Viktor, Mel

Masterlist

Vi

Vi doesn’t say much at first, but you can see the way her eyes soften when you tell her what you’ve left behind. She’s been there too, walking away from things that don’t sit right. "You don’t have to be that person anymore." The way she says it is gentle but firm, like she’s giving you permission to let go of the weight you’ve been carrying. She’ll help you rebuild, side by side.

Jinx

She’s all wild eyes and rapid-fire thoughts, but there’s something comforting in the chaos she offers you. "Leaving was the right thing, right? We’re rebels, remember?" She’ll pull you into her whirlwind world, but it’s clear—she’s not leaving you behind. She’s got her own demons, but she understands what it’s like to break free. The two of you might not have the answers, but you’ll face the future together.

Caitlyn

Caitlyn’s quiet, calculating—thinking about what this means for you, and how she can help. "I can’t pretend to know what you’ve been through, but I know you don’t have to carry this alone." She’ll make sure you have a safe place to land, even if it means putting herself at risk. She’ll never rush you, but she’ll be there when you’re ready to talk, ready to rebuild something better, together.

Ekko

Ekko’s got this way of making everything feel like it’s possible. He won’t judge, won’t force anything on you. He just wants to give you a reason to hope again. "You’ve got a second chance. Let’s use it—together." It’s his way of saying you’re not alone, that there’s a future ahead of you both, one where the past doesn’t dictate what you’re worth. He sees a way out, and he wants you to see it too.

Jayce

Jayce respects the hell out of the choice you’ve made, even if he doesn’t always understand it. He’s got this idealistic, almost naïve belief that anyone can start fresh, and he wants to help you with that. "You’ve done what you could with the cards you were given. Now, let’s make something better together." He’ll offer his resources, his time—anything to help you find a new path. He wants to believe in redemption, and he wants you to believe in it too.

Viktor

Viktor’s more of a quiet support. He understands the cost of war, the toll it takes, and he respects that you’ve chosen to leave that behind. "It’s not too late to build something new. You’re not the person you were." His words are calm but heavy with the weight of experience. He doesn’t rush you to move on, but he will give you the tools you need to rebuild yourself, and he’ll be there to help you do it.

Mel

Mel understands the quiet agony of leaving a past you can’t undo. She won’t push you to talk, but she’s there—steadfast. "You’ve chosen to be more than your past. Let’s build something different, together." Her support is the kind that wraps around you like a soft blanket. She’s not trying to fix everything, just offering a steady hand while you figure out what comes next. You’ll find peace with her by your side.

Requests may be sent through the ask box. Only SFW.

[melmedardasworld]

Bonnie's funeral was months ago, so how come Klaus finds her in New Orleans?

Klaus suddenly stopped mid-stride of the masses. He tilted his head as if listening to something, but his preternatural senses zeroed in on the mystical energy nearby. The air was charged with it. Klaus couldn't put his finger on the familiarity of the mystic signature, but it was, without a doubt, magic. His thoughts drifted to Mystic Falls, but he locked the bleak recollection.

Klaus slithered between the crowd and dissolved from the people. He let his senses guide him toward the one who dared to ignore Marcel's rules. This witch was either desperate, a fool, or both. Klaus hadn't discovered his sire's secret weapon, but he would find out. New Orleans was his home in the past, yet Marcel acquired everything Klaus had yearned for centuries. Klaus clenched his jaw as an irrational fury simmered within before speeding off.

Klaus's skin rose in goosebumps when he rounded the corner of the side alley. The dense magic sucked in all the warmth and compacted it within this area alone as a steep cold. When the witch fell in sight, Klaus's arctic blue eyes dimmed like flinty beads. His body immediately locked out of instinct at the impossible symptom. Vampires didn't experience cold, let alone having that sensation manifest into goosebumps. Klaus watched the witch with narrowing eyes. Voluptuous inky-black coils pulled back and cascaded down a slender back. She was crouched in front of a salt pentagram on the floor with a hand hovering above.

The slow grin twisting near the corners of his mouth manifested a sinister overtone around Klaus. "You know that people around here have died for less?" Besides lowering her hand from the salt circle, the nameless witch didn't turn. "Yet here you are, breaking the one rule that has so many of your kind quaking with fear. It is quite bold of you to call upon your executioner." Klaus mused lazily, "I have a sibling with similar self-mutilating tendencies. As a good brother, I put him out of his misery with a dagger, and now he enjoys eternal sleep." Klaus tilted his head and asked, "shall I extend the mercy by offering you a quick death or let Marcel torture you instead?"

A soft sigh left her mouth, but she finally rose. Klaus kept a well enough distance that was perfect for offense and defense if needed. This witch expected- no, she wanted to be found, and an itching underneath Klaus's gums told him this act was deliberate. His fury spiked. The dark veins around his eyes rippled to life. "You dare lure me here, witch?! I already told your pathetic coven that I not will be commanded or manipulated!"

"It's not surprising that you think the world revolves around you." Klaus tensed, not by what she said but by who said it. Klaus followed her movements with eyes that slowly stretched as they drank in her presence. The intensity of her viridian eyes was the first thing that garnered his attention. Tension twisted at the base of Klaus's gut, and his breath quivered. Questions jostled through his mind, but all Klaus intended to ask was enunciated as a name he didn't think he'd ever utter again.

"Bonnie?"

☽🔮☾

Six months ago

The path was brief but felt long and heavy. Klaus's feet led him through the family burial ground. Stone-faced, he stopped in front of the recent tombstone. Klaus did his best to ignore the weight cementing itself in his bones. The ceremony was small and with family and friends. Klaus wasn't invited, but he watched the funeral proceeding, with a dark face, from the shadows.

Klaus Mikaelson lived for 1000 years. For centuries he never cared for anything. Yet, here he was, like a sentimental fool showing respect to the dead. This death didn't need to but did because of blinding loyalty and a lack of preservation. Klaus clenched the bouquet when his eyes finally swept along the name carved into the stone by her estranged parents.

Bonnie Sheila Bennett.

A breeze kicked the fallen leaves around Klaus. He raised his head, and an unlikely shiver crept along his skin. There was nothing there, but Klaus felt the wisps of magic. However, it didn't ease the scraping against his chest. No melancholy or peace settled. Klaus became restless as he stared at Bonnie's name. "This accursed town should count itself lucky that it will be spared from my wrath. You needn't worry, little witch, as you did your part." Bonnie did more than that. The words left an acrid aftertaste in his mouth. "I will do mine and leave Mystic Falls. Be proud, Bonnie Bennett. You successfully chased me out of this horrible place and saved the ingrates who didn't deserve you or your power." His mouth twisted, and a scowl blossomed. Bonnie Bennett would no longer be a thorn in his side. Ironically, there was no joy in saying these words to a dead enemy. "You prevented the prophecy hell from being unleashed upon the earth, your father and Jeremy live once more, you cured your mother, and your friends are safe." When the wind and Bonnie's magic settled, Klaus bent through his knees and set the flowers down. He ran a hand over the stone with wonder. "You can be at peace, little witch."

☽🔮☾

Klaus wasn't sure how long he stared, but his wide-eyed shock prompted an unimpressed frown from Bonnie. Despite the many questions ringing through his mind and the chaotic emotions rearing, Klaus's reaction was an explosion of raw impulse. In a split second, he sped forward to attack her. His sudden action caught Bonnie off-guard. The impact of the brick wall colliding with her back shuddered down her spine, and a firm grip squeezed down her windpipe. Through her glower, Klaus's distorted face drew closer and yelled, "you dare fool me with parlor tricks?!"

Bonnie's magic thrust outward to protect its mistress. The shockwave of pure mystic energy belted into the solid threat. Klaus propelled back like a puppet pulled back by its strings. He crashed into the concrete surface but swiftly picked himself up, ready to charge against this cheap illusion.

Bonnie stretched her arms, palms facing the ground, and flicked them down. Klaus howled when the force of her power brought him to his hands and feet by fracturing his bones. Bonnie coldly watched how he wrestled to break free. His double fangs were ready to tear through flesh like some frenzied beast. "The more you struggle, the easier it is for me to keep you down and break your bones."

"Then make sure to keep me subdued for your safety." Klaus sneered, his golden glower never breaking contact with her green irises. His face twitched heavily, but it wasn't just from the witch's dense power keeping him bound. She dared to bait him with her face and perceive it as his weakness?! "Is this your coven's grand plan? Luring me to the city to do your dirty work failed, so now you con me with the face of a dead enemy, proving again that all who stand against me turn into dust." Klaus ran his nails along the broken stone and swallowed the growl of pain when he pushed against gravity, pushing him down with each toil to rise.

Bonnie raised a brow before a snort left her mouth. "First of all, this is all me. I'm not part of the French Quarter Coven." Bonnie lowered her arms to her sides and started to walk. Bonnie's extraordinary power still subdued Klaus. "But having them lure you to New Orleans was my idea. I convinced them you'd be the perfect smokescreen in this war. I was right." Bonnie smiled and tilted her head. "Given your history with Marcel, knowing how power-hungry you are and your habit of taking things that aren't yours, you're the perfect distraction." The longer Klaus listened, the more the veins in his face rippled. The arteries near his temple stood out against his distorted features. The low rumble in his chest was feral and on the wrong side of sanity or reason.

Bonnie closed the distance, crouched through her knees, and crossed her arms over them. She rested her chin on her hand while staring at the fuming Klaus. "Just to be clear, I am the enemy that came out on top after going against you." Bonnie said the following words with such nonchalance that it took Klaus a moment to register them, "lastly, the funeral was fake, Klaus. I was very much alive and have been this whole time." The revelation stuttered Klaus's thoughts to an abrupt halt.

If you haven’t read Witch Bargain, please do. It’s related to the prose that I have in mind of Bonnie in New Orleans and getting involved in the war between the vampires and witches.

Happy Holidays!🎄

[dykedvonte]

Curly had two days to act and Swansea had two months.

I think it’s just interesting that every defense of Swansea not immediately acting are the same ones that are argued against for Curly. “He didn’t want to alert Daisuke or makes things worse for Anya either Jimmy!” I mean people also assume that about Curly and the crew. “He has to think about his plan of action and a right moment!” Again so did Curly, power and authority aside, he still would have to think of what he had to do. “He makes sure he doesn’t have to be around Jimmy!” So did Curly and they only do this to an extent, both give Jimmy more than a few opening to keep harassing Anya.

This isn’t defense of Curly nor a damnation of Swansea. Their actions are very parallel to each others in tragic and sour ways when it comes to how they approached helping Anya. In the grand scheme of it all they both did the same thing: Nothing. No action either took stopped the inevitable outcome of her death nor Jimmy’s continued damage to themself.

The only real difference is Swansea didn’t like Jimmy which is pretty substantial, but also just as damning as Curly knowing how bad Jimmy could get to an extent. He had even less of a reason to wait, even more of a reason to act seeing as he was now worried for Anya AND Daisuke. He is not bound by the possible procedure as Captain and actively does not care about what happens next. So what does it matter if he acted in the moment? Why did he wait? I think he’s just as morally complex and grey as Curly and we hold him on a pedestal that still perpetuates things in rape culture the game critiques.

It’s not just enough to dislike and be abrasive to predators/abusers like Jimmy. It’s not enough to just put yourself between them and the other person. It’s not enough to hold tensions when you know someone is vulnerable. He and Curly do the exact same things but on different sides of the coin. I ask how is it better to not turn a blind eye but still not really do anything about what you are seeing? Not until it affects you atleast…

The game makes a big point to not put men doing the bare minimum or who wait to do more on pedestals and I’m actually surprised so many are missing that point.