#riskembraced

[stormembraced-a]

@analyticallyminded said :   🔗– a memory about their proposal/wedding

there’s a part of her that keeps waiting to wake up. not in the whimsical, ‘pinch-me-i-must-be-dreaming’ kind of way, but in that completely certain, ‘yes-this-is-the-way-things-are-supposed-to-be’ dream logic sort of way. not for the first time, she catches sight of herself in the mirror, and not for the first time, something in her chest snags. 

do you think anybody looks at you and sees a wife? do you think he does? her mother’s words echo through her skull for a second, but no longer, before she banishes them, both because her mother has no place here – not today, not for another single, solitary moment in the life she intends on making once this day is over – and because each time she lets her gaze linger on her reflection, on the way the white darkens her hair and eyes and contrasts against her visible tattoos, on the white and sky blue comb that holds her loose curls up  ( an heirloom gift from her mama’s wedding: “somethin’ old, new, borrowed, and blue, all in one,” jo had murmured with a teary smile as she’d put it in only a few moments ago. ), when she looks at herself, she can see a wife. damien’s wife. and she’ll be damned if she’ll let the memory of her mother take that from her.

“look at you. my baby sister, all grown up.”  benji’s voice takes her by surprise, yanks her out of her thoughts, but does nothing to alter the hazy contentment thrumming through her. if anything, the sight of her brother only strengthens her surety, and now more than ever she’s certain that her choice to have him be the one to give her away was the right one. she can’t remember the last time she’s seen him in a tux, can’t remember the last time she’s seen him clean shaven, or the last time she’s seen the softness in his eyes that she sees now as he takes his weight off the doorframe and approaches her, stoops to kiss her cheek.  “you ready?” 

she isn’t sure if she’s ever been ready for anything so much as she is ready to be delilah o’connell, but she doesn’t say that, it’s the kind of thing she’d tease the life out of anyone else for saying. so instead, she rolls her eyes, knocks her arm against his in a halfhearted elbow. “course i am, just waitin’ on you.”

as he gestures for her to lead the way, he chuckles quietly, the only way he laughs now, but she feels the warmth in it just as clearly as if it’d been the loud laughter of his youth. she falls into step beside him in the hallway, lapsing into a comfortable silence for the minute it takes them to reach the door that finally allows her heart to race, alight with a kind of anticipation entirely new to her. 

she reaches out and benji extends his arm dutifully in the seconds before the door opens and they take that first step forward. her eyes sweep only once over each face, emotion surging up and almost overwhelming her suddenly at the sight of her family, their family, before her gaze locks on damien and the earth beneath her feet settles, and everything else falls away.

⋅ ┋   muse memories.    /    no longer accepting.

[vmpyrtm-a]

"what are you doing?"

CAUGHT RED HANDED↳↳ accepting ( @riskembraced )

9.  catch  my  muse  holding  a  knife  in  their  blood - covered  hand

   henry doesn’t react, can’t. he hadn’t fed, the hunger had risen inside of him like a wave – blood on his hands, knife held loosely within his fingers and he knows what it looks like. prince of darkness caught, quite literally, red handed. but it isn’t what it looks like. it’s far from what it looks like but the hunger – it has it’s hand wrapped around his throat and he’s frozen, stuck in place like some angel of death standing over the grave of another.

damien is a smart man, a resourceful man who had been through something traumatic that had painted a scent on his skin and there is something written on his face that makes henry think that he might actually believe him if he was able to open his mouth without snarling and flashing his fangs from the thirst. henry closed his eyes, he was a prince, he would not allow something as akin as nature control him, not now. not ever.

when he opened his eyes again it was all henry. the somewhat reclusive novelist who lived upstairs, the beast held at bay through sheer force of will.  “ i  need  you  to  call  the  police  station,  ask  for  detective  mike  celluci.  ”   henry spoke deliberately, his tone authoritative and leaving little room for doubt. good. people responded to authority faster than uncertainty and he needed to act like he knew what he was doing.

       “  there’s  a  killer  in  the  building  and  if  he  doesn’t  hurry,  i’m  going  to  get  to  him  first.  ”   henry met damien’s gaze then, let some of that beast out, the predator always beneath the surface of the demure yet friendly writer he always displayed int he presence of mortals. he needed him to cooperate or things were going to get much, much worse.

[troubldtwnarchive]

@riskembraced​ said :   ‘  why would i be scared of that guy?  ’   /    avengers : endgame sentence starters .

“ uhhh, because he looks like a viking, maybe? ”

tracy has no idea why anyone who doesn’t know him well would look at dwight and not be scared of him. the guy is six-five and built like a professional wrestler, still holds himself like a soldier, and is plenty liberal with that taser of his. now, there’s nothing remotely scary about dwight in her eyes, his size notwithstanding, but damien just watched dwight in action --- it’s, frankly, mystifying that he’s not at least a little freaked out.  “ you just watched dwight clothesline that guy, right? you saw that? because I saw that. the rest of the bar saw that. ”  

duke’s gonna bitch and moan about nathan and dwight collaring some guy in his establishment, in the middle of the lunch rush no less. tracy’s just going to have to pointedly remind him the alternative was having an out of control trouble tearing the place up. her elbow finds damien’s ribs in a gentle nudge, and she scoffs.  “ you must have a seriously underdeveloped fear response, my friend. I mean, yeah, okay, apart from the fact that he’s enormous, dwight’s pretty much a gentle giant, if you don’t piss him off... but still. ”

[scaffoldheld-a]

“ i'm gonna marry that girl. ”

@riskembraced​  –  spotify starter call.

[stormembraced-a]

@riskembraced said :    ( star ) ( star ) –  your muse staring at mine instead of the stars while stargazing.

she’s long since past the pretense of being nervous this close to the edge of the roof, instead delilah’s attention held on the inky blackness dotted with stars above them. she’s sure benji had named most of the constellations for her at one point or another, but she’d never really paid enough mind to remember them. she turns to face him, intent on telling him just that, when she notices that he’s not looking up at all, his focus instead fixed on her, o’connell blues silver in the moonlight.

suddenly self conscious, she ducks her face slightly before recovering and arching a brow in what she hopes comes across as bemusement. 

          “ y’alright there? ”

⋅ ┋   seduction starters.    /    no longer accepting

[stormembraced-a]

@riskembraced​ :   ❛ this is where i grew up. ❜

it was exactly as she’d expected – well, that wasn’t exactly true. she hadn’t really had expectations, had had no clear image in her head of the o’connell home, only a hazy backdrop on which the many stories she’d heard from nora and damien played out. seeing it now though, she could never have imagined it differently. it was almost enough to ease the rising anxiety that’d been churning uncharacteristically in her stomach since damien had first invited her along. 

she couldn’t figure out why it felt like it meant something. it wasn’t like they were together, she wasn’t meeting her boyfriend’s parents or anything. their approval shouldn’t matter so much that she hadn’t even been able to doze on the trip here. hell, she’d been fully aware that adeline jessup was going to disprove of her and her stomach hadn’t been nearly as much in knots meeting her as it was at the mere thought of meeting bridget and matt o’connell.

her fingers stilled their tapping against the passenger side door – a hummingbird tempo that had only gotten quicker the closer they’d gotten – at the sound of his voice, the overwhelming warmth in it settling some of the turmoil. still —

     “ you’re sure about this, damien? ”

⋅ ┋   sweet home alabama starters.    /    no longer accepting.

[shalalalaleng-blog]

"There's nothing wrong with choosing our own satisfaction. Just don't live a day having too much regrets."

-Marcos, 2019

[dyingthing]

@riskembraced​ said :   ❛ don’t go accusin’ me of thinkin’. i ain’t done anything of the sort. ❜

an exasperated roll of his eyes is the only response he can muster for a moment, fond though it may  ( unfortunately )  be.  “ don’t worry  –  nobody who knows you would ever accuse you of such a thing. ”

⋅ ┋   sweet home alabama starters.    /    accepting.