#She deserves her own spotlight to shine in

[senditcolton]

So Tragic and Rare

"Taste Your Silhouette" (pt. 11)

a/n: the first full fic of this universe! and I can reveal to you all that every fic is going to be told from Andrei's POV. I grew attached to the idea that you don't really know who Keely is and are forced to learn about her through outsider observations/opinions, her interactions with Andrei, and of course, her music and lyrics. anyway, here's the story of their first meeting!! It's wild, it's a bit messy, but it also is a whole lot of fun - if I do say so myself.

word count: 9.9k warnings: Andrei being awkwardly endearing, me basically rewriting last seasons All-Star game and smut! [oral (f receiving), unprotected penetrative sex, and a handjob]. masterlist

There were many things an NHL player could do over All-Star Break. A majority of players chose to fly to a tropical location, enjoying the warmth and sunshine in the middle of February and take a moment to relax before the season kicked up again.

But not Andrei Svechnikov. At least, not this year.

Instead, he was sitting on one of the many benches lined up in the middle of Scotiabank Arena in Toronto, watching the lights flash around him, listening to the crowd milling about in the stands. While he awaits the start of the NHL All-Star Draft, clad in his Canes jersey, his feet kicking gently.

Let it not be confused that he was ungrateful. Sure, it was colder in Toronto than it was in Raliegh and definitely colder than it was in any of the numerous beaches he was sure his teammates were currently on. But, no matter how much of him wished he could join them in their vacation, he took pride in representing Carolina at the All-Star Game. And he wouldn’t deny that the title of All-Star sent a bolt of cocky confidence through his body.

So, yes, while he was sitting in rink-side instead of poolside, he had never been happier. This was his place. This was where he belonged.

The amplified music cuts through his reverie, his gaze now moving towards the stage where the hosts of the evening stood. He listens to their welcomes and the explanation of how the draft would work, before the music build and the introductions of team captains begin.

The music shifts with each introduction and after Team Matthews is announced, the sound of a recognizable bassline pricks at his ears. He knew the melody from practice, the song often pulsating through the locker room speakers thanks to Seth Jarvis. The hosts call the names of captain Nathan MacKinnon and assistant captain Cale Makar – names that deserve their own cheer – but all he can focus on is the dark blonde hair of the other person walking up to the podium next to them.

“And the celebrity captain: Boston singer and songwriter, you’ll see her as our headline performer on Saturday, give it up for Keely Halloran!”

The cheers flow through the stadium – not as many as Toronto-based Justin Bieber received but that was to be expected. Andrei swears that he hears some boos as well, his eyebrows furrowing at the sound. He remembered Jarvy mentioning some prior drama in her career, back when he info-dumped about his favorite artist one night over dinner, but it seemed ridiculous to Andrei that people would boo her for that.

Perhaps their vocal dislike was based off her being a Boston native and therefore probably a Bruins fan. That made more sense to him.

He redirects his gaze back to Keely, standing on the stage in her own yellow All-Star jersey, talking animatedly to Cale and Nathan.

She was really pretty.

Jarvy didn’t explicitly mention her looks that but Andrei should’ve known. Yes, Seth liked her music but it would be idiotic to think that there wasn’t some attraction woven into his admiration.

But she was really truly beautiful, the spotlight shining down on her. She seemed so at ease, under the lights, in front of the crowd, and Andrei supposes it came with the territory. She made her living on the stage and even though this was a much different circumstance than she was probably used to, it probably didn’t phase her at all.

The draft starts and Andrei can’t take his eyes off of Keely. There is a need flowing through him, a desperate desire to be on her team. Although, if asked, he wouldn’t be able to concisely say why.

It could’ve been the fact that her team was captained by Nathan MacKinnon and Cale Makar – two powerhouse players that anyone would be lucky to play with. It could’ve been because he promised Jarvy that he’d get a picture or autograph for him and being on Keely’s team would make that task easier to accomplish. Maybe it was as simple as the fact that he found her attractive.

Whatever the reason, he wanted to be hers. Her player – on her team, that is.

He watches as her, Nathan, and Cale look at their options, talking each pick over. He sees her disappointed face and hears a small sound of disappointment leave her lips when David Pastranak gets chosen by Team McDavid, confirming his assumption that she was a Boston fan. He listens to her voice, cheerfully greeting and shaking the hand of each player that skates up: Crosby, Georgiev, Kaprisov. All he can do is wait and hope for his name to be called – hopefully by her.

When Robert Thomas gets chosen by team McDavid, the host jumps back to Keely, ready to announce the next pick of Team MacKinnon.

“Alright Keely, your team is up. How much power do you have in these draft choices?”

“I’d like to think I have some but they’re the professionals so I’m trusting them,” Keely laughs, tossing her hair back. “We were looking at all the names here, and I’m going with the guys on this one. We’re going to select… Andrei Svechnikov.”

His name on her lips sounds like music to his ears and he lifts himself off the bench, skating over towards the third of the small podiums lining the stage. He can faintly hear the voice of the announcer praising his game but that all seems irrelevant to the sight of those blue eyes trained on him.

He skates up, first clapping Nathan on the back, before his eyes connect with Keely. She has that smile on her face, a camera-ready smile but one that also seemed entirely genuine.

“Hey,” she says to him, her voice still lifting with the edge of her laughter as she holds out her hand to him. He accepts it, shaking it gently before moving to Cale, taking the All-Star jersey from his hands.

It isn’t until he is settled down on the MacKinnon bench, lined up next to his new teammates, do his eyes return to Keely and notices her staring at him. And it is only then does he realize he never said a word, not even a hello, to her.

A strange feeling of embarrassment runs through him, his eyes darting down, pretending to be absorbed in unfolding the yellow jersey. God, she must’ve thought he was an asshole or something. What a great first impression. He throws the material over his head and only afterward does he allow himself to look back up towards the podium where Keely stood.

He continues to watch and listen to her aid in the building of Team MacKinnon. And every time she speaks, he notices more things about her, aspects the draw him in even deeper.

He noticed her playfulness when Jeremy Swayman was selected by Cale, laughing at the incredulous “alright?” that escaped Keely’s lips, clearly not agreeing with the defenseman’s choice of adjective concerning the goalie.

Andrei’s laughter soured quickly, feeling a small twinge of jealousy thrum through him when Jeremy skated over and shook Keely’s hand, the rockstar clearly overjoyed that he was selected. It was an odd thing to be jealous about, he realized, and he shook off the feeling, focusing back to the rest of the draft.

He noticed her welcoming warmth when she selected Elias Lindholm, newest member of the Boston Bruins, traded from Vancouver just before the All-Star game.

And when there were only four players left and each of the leadership teams came up onto the main stage, he listened intently when he heard her name fall from the mouth of one of the hosts.

“I wanted to talk to Keely Halloran for a moment here. You have a big performance coming up on Saturday. How do you feel?”

“I’m so excited,” she replies, her words and her smile seeming nothing short of genuine. “Growing up in Boston and growing up a Bruins fan – dangerous thing to admit in Toronto, I know, but – it really made me fall in love with hockey. My dad is coming in tomorrow and he’s just super excited.”

“Well, since you mentioned being a Bruins fan, are you happy you got a few Bruins on your team?”

“Yeah, of course. I mean, kind of disappointed we didn’t get the full set with Pasta but I like the team we made up and I know that at least me, Jeremy, and Elias will bring some of that energy and power that I always feel in TD Garden.”

“Well, we’ll be feeling the energy and power during your performance on Saturday, I’m sure,” the host says, turning away without acknowledging the laughter and confirmation that falls from Keely’s lips.

The draft wraps up after the final selection, each team being filled. A cheer goes up from the crowd as the rosters are announced, followed by a reminder of the skills competition tomorrow and the All-Star game the day after that. After the final cheer, the bright lights of the stadium come back up, the production crews and behind the scenes personnel milling about. One of them stands in front of the Team MacKinnon bench, a quick explanation falling from their lips.

“Alright, guys, we’re gonna take a team photo for social media and then you are all free to go, sound good?”

Andrei nods his head, standing up to be positioned for picture. His eyes scan the stadium before landing on Keely again, slowly walking down the steps of the stage, trailing behind Cale and Nathan. He sees her slow shuffling across the ice, her eyes trained on her feet. A jolt of confidence plus a need to redeem himself from their first interaction runs through his body and without hesitation, he skates away from the team bench, towards her. With a small hiss of his skates, he pauses beside her, holding out his arm.

“Would you like help?” he asks. He can feel his heartbeat stutter in his chest when she looks up at him, her bright blue eyes connected with his brown ones.

“Is it that obvious that I’m not the strongest at walking on ice?” she laughs, still shuffling across the surface.

“It’s amazing you haven’t fallen yet,” Andrei replies. One of Keely’s eyebrows pops up and Andrei realizes that his words sounded more than a little patronizing. “I mean, in those shoes,” he elaborates, gesturing down to her heels, trying to mitigate whatever damage he may have inflicted.

“Yeah, not the smartest decision,” she replies. “I would love some help. Falling on my face wouldn’t be very good publicity for me.”

Andrei nods, relaxing in her easy-going attitude, re-extending his arm towards her. She takes it, her hand curling around his bicep. Andrei starts to slowly move back toward the group of yellow jerseys, attempting to keep a steady pace, focusing more on his skating in this moment than he had in ages.

The two of them reach the bench and Keely murmurs a soft thank you. His only reply is a nod, skating behind the seat and smiling for the camera. As soon as the photo is snapped, Andrei is ready to immediately return to Keely’s side, offering his help again. But he is beaten to it by the true Canadian gentleman Sidney Crosby.

With a sigh, he watches as she walks off with Sid and Nate before he skates over to the tunnel, ready to head back to the hotel. He still wasn’t sure if he was going to go down to the hotel bar or stay in his room, getting some necessary sleep before tomorrow. But his decision is made for him when he spies Keely glance back over her shoulder, locked gaze with him and sending a soft smile in his direction.

He would do anything if it meant that she would look at him that way again.

~*~*~*~

The hotel bar was crowded, filled with players, their significant others, and a few members of the media, eager to get every snippet of content they could.

Andrei knew it might have been best for him to stay upstairs, what with the skills competition coming up tomorrow – a competition that Andrei had a spot in. But it was the All-Star game and he was the only Carolina Hurricane here. He should represent his team as much as he could, in as many places as he could; let his face be seen and captured by the cameras around. He promised himself only a beer or two before leaving and he was making good on that promise. Although, he would admit that he was distracted looking for one person in particular.

It wasn’t until he was at the bar, ready to grab his second beer did his eyes finally locate the now familiar dark blonde hair of Keely Halloran.

She was sitting a few seats away from him, her back against the wooden bar-top as she talked with Nathan, Cale, Sidney, and Mitch Marner, her laughter bouncing through the air, cutting through the smooth jazz echoing through the speakers. She’s nursing some form of cocktail – Andrei can’t tell what – and intently listening as each person talks, seemingly interjecting with her own additions and obviously some humor considering the chuckles that fall from the men surrounding her.

He wanted go over there, join the conversation and insert himself into the circle, but a small part of him said to hold off. He didn’t want to overwhelm Keely with too many people, too many stories. She seemed connected to Nathan and Cale considering they were the two people that she had most likely interacted with the most. He didn’t want to force her to entertain an even larger group of almost complete strangers, which is exactly what he was.

Instead, he strikes up a casual conversation with the bartender, with every person that walks up next to him at the bar. He bides his time, his brown eyes occasionally darting over towards Keely, feeling his heartrate rise as the group surrounding her dwindles from four, to three, to two. And then she is alone.

Andrei takes a deep breath and another swig of his beer, willing whatever courage the amber liquid could provide to flow through his body, before picking up the bottle and walking over.

She is absorbed in her phone, texting someone, laughing gently at the words on the screen. The sight of her smile makes Andrei falter for a moment, the thought of her texting a boyfriend flashing in his brain. However, that voice is silenced when Keely looks up from her cell, her blue eyes connecting with his – seemingly aware of his presence – and the smile that was on her face does not fade. In fact, it seems to shine brighter.

That is the last bit of encouragement that Andrei needs to take those final steps, sliding his large body onto the adjacent chair and turning towards Keely.

“Hey again,” he says, his voice a little breathless and still a little uncertain.

“Ah, there’s my prince charming,” Keely smiles, looking up at him through her darkened eyelashes. The combination of her words and her stare has Andrei faltering once more, his own eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“Prince charming?”

“For helping me across the ice, of course,” she lightly explains, her lips wrapping around the straw of her drink.

A light chuckle falls from Andrei’s lips as he tries to brush off his confusion, attempting to copy the bold and confident attitude that the woman sitting across from him displayed.

“Right, of course. Well, I guess Crosby – I mean, Sidney – would also be your prince charming.”

Keely hums, her head moving to glance behind her, towards Sidney, now talking with someone else a few paces away. Andrei takes Keely’s momentary distraction as an opportunity to let his gaze rake down.

With her head turned, he could see that the baseball cap perched backwards on her head was a Boston Celtics cap, her city loyalty on full display. The leather jacket that had previously been thrown over her shoulders was now draped over the back of the chair, revealing the rest of her all-black ensemble. The corset top that highlighted her chest and waist, a highlight that most other men would’ve been eyeing shamelessly. Andrei would’ve joined in but his eyes had drifted lower, to the skirt/short combo that seemingly had a built-in buckled garter, stretching across her upper thigh.

A gentle clearing of a throat causes Andrei’s eyes to snap back up, his face flushing when he sees Keely’s eyes glued back to him.

“He is gentleman, that’s for sure,” Keely speaks, continuing the prior conversation, blissfully not responding to Andrei’s blatant stare. That is, until her own eyes shamelessly rake up and down his body. “But Sid’s not nearly attractive enough to be my prince charming.”

While being caught red-handed threw him off-guard, Keely outright giving him some of the most seductive bedroom eyes that Andrei had seen in his life threw him entirely off-kilter.

“What?” he said, not being able to stop his bewilderment at – what seemed like – the sudden turn of events. Keely’s laughter makes his cheeks flush again, her leaning back in her chair, her legs stretching out causing Andrei’s eyes to dart back to that damnable garter.

“What’s the matter all-star? Never had a girl flirt with you?”

“N-no. I’ve had lots,” Andrei stutters out before his brain registers how bad his response sounded. “I-I mean… um…”

His fumbled words were once again cutoff with a gentle laugh from Keely, her body leaning towards him again. This time, her expression is soft, a slight smile on her face that looked amused but not at all condescending.

“You aren’t very good at this, are you?”

“Not when it’s a celebrity, like you. And not when I feel like I’ve made a mistake every time I’ve opened my mouth,” Andrei confesses, his own lips quirking in a soft grin.

“That’s actually one of the things I like,” Keely replies, silencing Andrei’s fears but bringing forth more confusion. The question is clearly painted on his face because Keely’s explanation continues. “Do you know how many men try to act all suave and basically lie through their teeth to get close to me? It’s nice to see something genuine – even if you may not have intended it.”

“Glad to know I haven’t messed up that bad.”

“Not at all.”

The initial awkwardness evaporates as fast as mist in the morning sun, the conversation between Keely and Andrei now flowing seamlessly. She asks about his life, details which he gladly offered up and he asks hers, the details she gave a little vaguer. But Andrei found that he didn’t really care.

He knew enough about who she was – a celebrity that probably had every aspect of her life splashed on front pages and over social media, whether she agreed to it or not. He was more than willing to let her tell him what she wanted to. Regardless of what she decided to tell him, he sat, enraptured. Her stories only made him admire her more: her passion, her drive, her unapologetic attitude concerning everything.

“I wish I could be that confident,” he says in reply to her return to the public eye.

“Andrei Svechnikov, all-star hockey player, wishes that he could be more confident?”

“I guess, more off the ice. I know who I am as a hockey player but when I don’t have skates on, I feel… not as bold.”

“Maybe I can help.”

Andrei’s eyebrows once again jump up in a question, every word that falls from this woman’s mouth intriguing him more.

“I’ll ask you some questions, and you respond with the honest truth,” she explains, her eyes sparkling with a sense of mischief that Andrei wanted to uncover.

After a moment of pondering, he responds with a small nod. His acceptance makes Keely smile and she leans back in her chair again, her blue irises staring him down.

“What’s your favorite lunch?”

“Really?” Andrei asks, her first question catching him off-guard once again – another tick mark to add to the mystery of the woman in front of him.

“Have to keep you on your toes.”

“Chicken and pasta.”

“Dogs or cats?”

“Dogs.”

“Favorite thing to do in your free time?”

“Fishing.”

“Person you trust the most?”

“My brother, Evgeni.”

“Girlfriend?”

The question draws Andrei’s attention, his brown eyes connecting with Keely’s blue. He can see the seriousness of the question within them. And, even deeper, the flicking of mistrust lurking in the aquamarine pools. That spark, that glimmer, hits Andrei squarely in the chest. He knew very little about Keely, not even the tabloid version, but that hesitation… it told him that she had been hurt, deeply. And in response, a fire flickered within him, one that vowed to make sure he never gave her a reason to distrust him.

“I don’t have one,” he replies, his voice steady and serious, hoping that the intensity of his feelings was matched by his voice.

Judging by how Keely relaxed back in her chair, it seems as if he got his wish.

“Why’d you come over here, Andrei?”

It was another challenge, another chance for him to be bold and tell the absolute truth. And this time, he didn’t wait for the best moment, didn’t dance around the words. Instead, he took a deep breath, met her gaze, and spoke the truth he was thinking the minute she stepped onto the stage at Scotiabank Arena.

“I think you’re beautiful. And… I’d like to spend a night with you.”

A slow smile twists across Keely’s face, taking in the sight of him sitting in front of her; maybe still a little uncertain but at least solid in his convictions.

“There you go. Confidence,” she says, the words slow and seductive.

There is a brief pause, the air between them thrumming with electricity before Keely breaks the spell, sighing and stretching her arms over her head before glancing down at her empty glass.

“Well, I was planning on going to bed once this drink was gone and it is. So, I guess I’ll head out,” she explains, her voice breezy and casual. She slides off the chair, grabbing her jacket and tossing it over her shoulders.

Andrei watches, a flash of confusion fliting through him as she reaches into her pocket, sliding out a thin card – presumably a credit card. However, that thought is disproved when she boldly takes a hold of his wrist, turning his hand palm-side up and placing the cool plastic into his hand.

“Top floor, room 15C. Don’t keep me waiting too long.” 

Those statements and the cherry of her perfume was what she left him with as she swiftly turns and waltzes out of the hotel bar. Andrei’s eyes stay on her until she is out of sight and only then does he glance down at the card placed in his hand.

Keely had slipped him a copy of her hotel keycard.

The invitation is clear. She was offering the key to her room for him to use if he desired – if he truly wanted the things he said he did. But it was also another challenge for him to be bold and honest and maybe a bit brash.

The decision was entirely his.

And he wasn’t going to say no. He was going to see Keely. He was going to take full advantage of the night and of the opportunity she presented him.

He just needed to wait, just long enough as to not draw suspicion. He was under more of a microscope up here in Toronto than in Raleigh. But Keely had eyes on her no matter where she went. He wasn’t about to bring more drama into her life.

So, for the second time that night, he lingers. He chats to the people around him, give some quotes to the media, does as much as he can to make it seem like this was a normal night during an All-Star Weekend. He pretends that he can’t feel the weight of the keycard in his pocket and the ticking of the time.

Finally, he deems it long enough and, after paying for his drinks and giving the bartender a healthy tip, he extricates himself from the hotel bar. His sneakers barely make a sound as he crosses the plush carpet of the lobby, taking a direct route to the elevator. He is thankful that no one stops him, thankful that the elevator doors seem to open as soon as he presses the up button and thankful that he is alone in the space. Andrei hits the button emblazoned with 15 and watches the numbers on the LED screen rise, flying past the fourth floor (his room) towards his true destination.

The soft ding of the elevator sounds, the doors sliding open with a whoosh and he steps out. There is only one hallway stretching out in front of him, two doors on either side. Andrei steps out slowly, eyes locating the plaques with the room numbers next to each door.

His mind repeats the number that Keely gave him like a mantra, passing one door and then the next before stopping in front of room 15C. He stands in front of the entrance, the wood looking exactly like the doors around him, looking exactly like the door to his own room. But inside…

A myriad of images sprung into Andrei’s head, fantasies of what was waiting for him, each more intoxicating than the last. If there was any hesitation still lingering in his body, it was burned away but the hot flash of need and desire that surged through him. He slips the plain black keycard from his pocket, holding it over the doorknob until the light above turns from red to green. The door handle, cool in his hand, turns and he steps in.

And the sight that awaits him makes him stop in his tracks.

Every image that he had conjured up in his mind was nothing compared to what was now in front of his eyes: Keely, lying in bed, her hair splayed over the pillows, wearing nothing but an oversized band shirt, the hem scrunched up around her waist, and her hands between her open thighs.

Her soft moans hit his ears and Andrei cannot help but stare as her elegant fingers trace over her folds, glistening in the low lamplight of the bedroom. He watches the way her back arches when she presses the pads of her fingers against her clit, a whine emanating from her throat as she gently rubs the bundle of nerves before her hands slips back down. It is her middle and marriage fingers that plunge into her center, her head lolling to the side as she lets out a satisfied sigh.

Andrei feels like he is in a trance, helpless to do anything but let the scene in front of him unfold. His eyes trail up Keely’s body to connect to her face, taking in the bliss so clearly displayed. It isn’t until that moment do her eyelids flutter open, those electrifying blue irises connecting to his frame still lingering in the doorway. A cheeky smile tugs at her lips, even while her hands never cease their movements.

“Are you going to join me or just stand there with the door wide open?”

Her words snap Andrei out of whatever reverie he was in, his body moving at a speed that even he can’t comprehend. The door is kicked shut behind him, the force of it making the wood vibrate on its hinges. Andrei doesn’t seem to notice or even care. Of course he didn’t care. How could he worry about anything else besides the woman in front of him?

There is no hesitation in his body, no uncertainty any more. His hands move to tear his grey t-shirt away from his body, feeling his confidence only grow at the soft moan that falls from Keely’s mouth, her eyes unabashedly raking down his muscular frame. The only response he gives is a small grin, before kicking off his shoe and sinking down to his knees, his eyes now directly focused on the soaked space between her thighs.

He drinks in the sight of her fingers still buried in her folds, like something out of one of his wet dreams or a porno made just for him. He watches as she slips the slender digits from her core, her soft skin glistening with her arousal, acting like a silver webbing between her fingers as she runs them across her cunt.

“Do you need more of an invitation?” Her voice echoes through the room, the words twinged with a tease but also with a desperation that makes Andrei’s dick twitch in his jeans. “You kept me waiting long enough. Gonna make me wait some more?”

She was right, of course. While watching her was surely something he never thought he would experience, it wasn’t as if she was on a screen or miles away, untouchable. She was right there, almost begging for him. Who was he to refuse a superstar?

His body lifts, strong hands wrapping around each ankle, guiding her legs over his broad shoulders. Andrei can hear the whine that vibrates from her throat, her hips lifting as if to entice him further. Her knees hook over the muscle of his shoulders and he allows himself the chance to press a kiss onto the supple skin of her inner thighs.

The heat that emanates from her stokes the fire that burns within him and he slowly descends, wanting to savor every second even though he can hear the way Keely whines, clearly impatient. Finally, finally, he lets his lips connect to her drenched center.

There is nothing in the world that could stop the moan that rumbles from his chest as his tongue makes contact with her slick, the sweetness that pours from her core tasting as heavenly as ambrosia. He hears her satisfied sigh from above, feels one of her hands tangle into this hair as a gentle encouragement for more – a silent request he is all too willing to oblige.

His tongue moves, tracing every crevice, lapping every bit of nectar that floods his tastebuds. He wanted to devour her, wanted to be able to taste her even when this weekend was long over. His mouth rises slowly, finding her clit nestled at the apex of her folds and wraps his lips around it, suckling. The way her fingers tighten in his hair, her hips bucking up is all the confirmation he needs that he’s doing something right and he is more than happy to continue.

One of the hands that had been keeping a tight grip on her upper thigh moves to join his mouth, retracing the places that his tongue had previously been. His fingers circle her entrance, collecting the wetness practically pouring from her before one of them plunges into her core.

Their mutual moan fills the room and Andrei still can’t believe that this isn’t a fantasy. But judging from the way her cunt is clenching around his finger, he knows it’s not. She is warm and wet and real and all those things has Andrei pumping his wrist, coaxing even more of those intoxicating sounds from her mouth.

He’s slow at first, wanting to give her time and as much pleasure as he could. But when Keely raises her hips to meet his hand, he reads her desperation with ease and slides another finger inside. He works her open, each languid thrust met with more of those desperate noises, each buck of her hips just pulling him deeper. His tongue never ceases its movements against her clit, each suckle and flick releasing more of her sweet arousal which he greedily laps up like it was water and he was dying of thirst. His brown eyes watch her, registering which moves makes her head fall back, exposing the pale column of her throat, and which has her body trembling. He wanted to memorize everything – the way she sounds, the way she feels, the way she tastes.

It was only when he gently curled his fingers does her already strangled moans turn staccato gasps, her pussy fluttering around the thick digits. The smile that twists on Andrei’s lips is devilish as he moves again, his lips wrapping around her clit and suckling in time with the movement within her. It only takes three instances of the dual combination for Keely’s orgasm to hit, her body trembling with the force of it, her mouth wide in an almost silent moan.

The sensation of it, of her squeezing his fingers, of her release flooding his mouth makes Andrei groan in kind, his tongue busily working to lap up every drop, not wanting any to go to waste. It is only when he is satisfied with his work does he allow his fingers to slip from her core. His eyes dart up to connect with hers, eyelids heavy with lust as she stares down at him.

“Well,” she says, her voice breathless. “You might not know how to talk to a celebrity but you sure know how to make her come.”

The chuckle that rumbles from his chest at her words melds with her own breathless giggle. Andrei lets a moment pass before he presses his lips against her inner thighs, sliding her legs off from their perch on his shoulders and lifting his body upwards until his frame is hovering over the entirety of her.

“Want to do it again,” he murmurs.

“Confidence,” she replies, echoing her words from earlier, her eyes flashing with the same amount of desire as he was sure was reflected in his own pupils. A sly grin twists on her face. “I like how it looks on you.”

He wants to kiss her. God, does he want to kiss her. That desire had been brewing since he first saw her, but now; with the flush of her cheeks, her hair creating a halo on the pillowcases, the slight sheen of sweat on her skin, her eyes looking up at him… he needed to kiss her.

But before he could even think of leaning down to press his lips against hers, Keely once again surprises him by hooking a leg over his hip, knocking one of his hands out from under him and using his falling momentum to her advantage, successfully flipping him over so it was his back that was now pressed against the hotel sheets.

A giggle falls from Keely at the bewildered expression on Andrei’s face and he gladly lets his initial shock morph into insane wonder at the woman he met only hours ago. Any words that he thought about uttering, any praise that may have fallen from his lips was silenced as Keely peels the cotton of her oversized shirt away from her body, exposing the entirety of her to him.

She was always beautiful but now, sitting naked above him, she was drop-dead gorgeous. She had a great body, that was obvious, but he was sure she knew what she was doing when she got the bejeweled tattoo that stretched across her abdomen and curved around her chest. The green jewels truly seem to glitter and only highlight her breasts even more, enticing him to reach towards her, his fingers tracing the design before moving over the soft skin of her breasts, teasing over the pebbled nipples. She arches to his touch, her hips moving against him and he can’t stifle the moan that falls from him at the friction of her soaked core against his still clothed cock.

“How many times do I have to tell you to fuck me, Andrei?” she questions from above him, her hips grinding against him again. He wants to give in right then and there, her body feeling so good against his already and he wanted to find out how good she would feel around him. But he also wanted her to voice her own desire for him. Not as a hot random stranger that she chose out of a dozen, but him alone.

“Maybe just one more,” he replies, his hands falling from her chest and tracing down the curves of her body. “Beg for it.”

“Oh,” Keely laughs, clearly taken aback by his demand. But that surprised huff turns into a softer more desperate gasp when Andrei grips her hips and deliberately grinds her core against his, the more intense friction against her still sensitive core causing her to shudder.  

“Oh fuck,” she quietly curses, her hands planting onto Andrei’s muscular chest as she attempts to drag herself against him again. But this time, his strong hands hold her in place, denying her. Her blue eyes dart up to him, the pure lust displayed there making his own resolve falter. Until he hears what he had been waiting for fall from her lips.

“Please.”

That single syllable word is all Andrei needs.

His hands fall from Keely’s hips, darting between her thighs to hurriedly undo his jeans. Keely’s soft hands join his, twisting underneath the waistband of his pants and boxers and aiding him in shoving them down his legs, his hard cock bobbing up. Andrei tries not to preen as Keely’s tongue flicks over her lips at the sight before her gaze flits up to meet his again.

There are no words spoken between them, nothing verbally exchanged. Instead, Keely’s palms return to Andrei’s chest, steadying herself before lowering her body. Andrei grips himself, squeezing the base gently, willing himself to not finish the very moment she sinks onto him. His free hand returns to her hip, guiding her down, running the head over her folds a couple of times before aligning with her center.

The sensation of her heat wrapping around his length causes Andrei’s head to fall back, a guttural groan leaving his chest as she sinks lower. The feeling must be just as pleasurable to Keely, her own whispered curses hitting his eardrums as she shifts until their hips are flush against each other.

There is a stillness; no movement but the rise and fall of their chests, no sound but their heavy breathing. Andrei wills his eyes open and reconnects his gaze with Keely. The sight of her above him is a vision, her looking more like an angel appearing in a dream than something real. Hell, part of him still wasn’t 100% sure he wasn’t dreaming.

But when Keely’s hips move, grinding against him, any doubt is erased from his brain. Even in his darkest deepest fantasies, he could never imagine something this good.

It is a dance, a sensual tango. Her hands are poised on his chest and his hands tight against her hips as she moves her core against him, each press of her along his length as sinful as the last. Andrei wants to keep his eyes open, wants to memorize every miniscule detail: the way her hair falls in her face, the roll of her hips, the shadows that are cast across her skin. But it is hard to do anything but lay back and let her ride him, let her take whatever she wanted from him, anything and everything that he could give.

Keely shifts slightly, a gasp falling from her and Andrei picks up on her reaction, thrusting his hips upward to meet the same spot. Another gasp sounds from her and is about to turn into a moan when Andrei sees her bite her lip, stifling the sound even as she desperately chases the sensation once again. One of Andrei’s hands lifts to cup her jaw. The feeling of his calloused skin against her porcelain cheek causes her eyes to open, gazing down at him.

His thumb stretches across her jawline, the tip of it pressing underneath her lip, gently pulling the flesh from between her teeth.

“Want to hear you,” he groans. “Want to hear the pretty sounds you make.”

She laughs, the sound wavering a little as their hips never stop moving against each other.

“Have to save my voice so you and everyone else can hear how pretty I sing,” she attempts to explain.

“You have a whole day. Want to hear how pretty you sound just for me.”

“Just for you?”

The question isn’t meant to be cruel and yet, Andrei can feel the bite of it. He knows, intrinsically, that he is not the only man that Keely has allowed into her bed and – considering their circumstances – he certainly wouldn’t be the last. But he lets that sting fuel him, drive him.

Initially, he wanted to kiss her. Now, he wanted to make sure that she knew no one else could make her feel the way he does.

The hand that was on her cheek descends again, taking time to carefully caress every ridge and dip of her body, paying close attention to the places that make her shudder and her movements on top of him falter. Slowly, almost painstakingly so, his hand returns to her hip, holding her tight and stopping her movements. He gets a small whine from her in response, a whimper that makes his lips curl in a smirk.

“I want to hear how good its feels,” Andrei says, his voice thick and low. “How good I make you feel.”

Keely is about to laugh again – that breathless teasing giggle that Andrei had come to know – but the sound is cut-off as Andrei thrusts his hips up, his thumb stretching to press against her clit. She moans, unabashedly now, the noises she makes crystal clear and as melodic as any song that he had ever heard. Andrei continues his pace and his movements within and against her, his eyes never leaving her, committing the sight into memory, something to get off to once this weekend was over and she was back to being a celebrity on his phone screen and a voice through his radio speakers.

He watches the way her body trembles, feels her nails dig into the muscle of his chest, and hears those beautiful noises falling from her mouth become shaky. He doesn’t stop, not until she is clenching around him, a jumble of curses and moans and – even more exquisitely – the sound of his name falling from her mouth as her orgasm rushes through her. It is maddening, the feeling of her pussy fluttering around him as she comes down.

It takes every modicum of Andrei’s self-control not to come undone as well, his hands gripping her hips so tightly he worries there would be bruises the next day. He can feel the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes deeply, his own eyes closed with a focus that he had only ever displayed on the ice. It is Keely’s soft laugh and the feeling of her lips pressing against his jawline that has him returning to the moment. The feeling of her kissing his skin blissfully distracts him from the sensation of her lifting off him, his still rigid cock slapping against his equally hard stomach.

He groans, his own desperation getting the better of him as his hips lift to chase her but she stills his movements with the grip of her soft hand wrapping around him. It isn’t nearly as good as her cunt but he is too far gone to complain.

“Want me to take care of this for you, all-star?” she whispers into his ear, delivering a slow languid stroke to emphasize her words. Her movements bring forth a moan from his own mouth, as well as a desperate nod of his head. He didn’t care how or what she had planned, he just needed her.

“Now it’s your turn to show me how pretty you sound,” Keely continues, her lips descending to kiss his jawline. And when she starts to slowly pump her hand, Andrei complies.

Even if he wanted to, he could not stop the moans that fell from him, the muttered Russian curses, the way his hips jumped up to meet her hand. She truly had him wrapped around her finger and he didn’t care. All he cared about was her: the feeling of her body pressed against his side, the touch of her hand against his cock, the sensation of her lips sucking hickeys onto his throat.

It is a twist of her hand coupled with a nip of her teeth against his skin that finally has his own orgasm hit, his body stilling as his cum paints his abdomen in thick creamy lines. Keely doesn’t stop her hand until he is spent, a soft hiss coming from his lips at the sensitivity.

She releases his cock, her fingers trailing up his body, collecting his release. Andrei opens his eyes just in time to see her seductively run her fingers over her lips before plunging them into her mouth, moaning at the taste of him on her tongue. He feels his dick twitch with renewed interest, now needing to know how those plush lips would look wrapped around him.

Releasing her fingers with a wet pop, Keely smiles at him, either blissfully unaware of the power she held or happy to wield it as casually as possible. Whatever it may be, she curls back into his side, her head coming to nestle on his shoulder as her legs tangle around his. He stays there with her, his own hand running up and down her side gently, content to bask in the golden glow of the moment.

Eventually, the sensation of dried sweat and slick become uncomfortable and Andrei moves, carefully departing from Keely. He didn’t want to, of course. If it was up to him, he would’ve quit his job to fly around on private jets and be backstage at all her shows if it meant spending more nights with her in his arms. But that wasn’t what this was. He knew that.

“Headed out?” Keely asks, her voice drowsy with a combination of sleep and exhaustion.

“Need to get back to my room. Get some sleep for tomorrow,” he explains.

“Probably for the best,” come her reply, understanding the situation as well as he did. “But you are welcome to use my shower before you leave.”

In his mind, he knew that he would be able to ride the elevator down to his floor in mild discomfort and clean up in the privacy of his own room. But something made him nod in agreement. Perhaps he wanted to spend more time in Keely’s presence, maybe the offer allowed him to look more into her world. Whatever the reason, he walks around the bed to the bathroom and switches on the lights.

He is greeted with the exact same layout as his own bathroom but with some slight differences, things that were distinctively Keely.

The makeup bag spilled open on the counter, the red candy bar shaped perfume bottle, the small ceramic dish that held a necklace and a ring with two hands holding a crowned heart, and a candle that was still burning, releasing the smell of eucalyptus and lavender in the air.

Andrei smiles at the small glimpses of her personality before stepping into the shower, letting the water wash off the remnants of their tryst. He debates using the body wash sitting in the green bottle but defaults to the complimentary bar of soap, cleaning himself before turning off the water.

After drying his skin with the plush bath towel and blowing out the candle on the counter, he returns to the bedroom to find Keely curled up under the white covers, her breath slow and steady as she sleeps. Silently, Andrei moves around the room, picking up his clothes and returning them to his frame. He sits down at the desk to tie his shoes and once again debates whether he should scribble his number down on the pad of paper perched next to him.

He wants to be bold and confident, like Keely liked, but without her gentle smile encouraging him, everything felt like he was walking a tightrope and one wrong misstep could ruin it all. So, he plays it safe. The only thing that he allows himself to indulge a kiss pressed against her temple before he slips out of her hotel room.

~*~*~*~*~

When Andrei walks into the locker room on Saturday, a sigh of relief whooshes from him when he sees Keely, decked out in the yellow of her own All-Star jersey, standing next to Nathan’s stall, listening to him and Sidney talk, a smile on her face.

It had been a little over twenty-four hours since he had left her hotel room and this was the first time he saw her again. She wasn’t around during the Skills Competition the day prior which Andrei found odd considering that the other celebrity captains were wandering around the ice. He had soothed the panicked part of his brain with the rational of her hanging with her family or rehearsing for her performance, instead of immediately assuming it was because of him. But he wouldn’t be certain until he could talk to her again.

He glances in her direction, hoping to catch her eye. Her head eventually turns towards him, their eyes meeting and once again, Andrei’s heart skips a beat when she smiles at him, her eyes bright. It feels like a sign that they would both be able to get through today without it being terribly awkward.

He tries to focus, let his body go through the muscle memory of his pre-game ritual – no different than he does every Carolina Hurricanes game. Occasionally, he still glances in Keely’s direction, watches her mill around and take a few pictures for media, noticing that he hasn’t heard her voice. The answer as to why hits his ear a few moments later – vocal rest for her performance – and a part of him deflates at not being able to hear her cheer or celebrate.

Eventually, everyone makes it to the bench and the first round of the All-Star game starts, Team MacKinnon against Team McDavid. Andrei lets himself be lost in the familiar feeling of the ice gliding beneath his skates, the music of the puck being passed from stick to stick. He only momentarily gets distracted by the smell of a familiar cherry perfume behind him, causing images – images that were entirely inappropriate to be thinking about during a hockey game – to pop into his head. He manages to pull them out of his brain but Team MacKinnon were unable to pull out the win, losing in a shootout to Team McDavid.

He doesn’t let the loss shake him too bad, knowing that it doesn’t mean anything except the inability to win more money – something that he feels he has too much of already. Instead, he lets himself strip back down to the sweatpants and branded hoodie combo that he arrived in, content to sit and watch for the rest of the day.

After Team Matthews overtakes Team Hughes in another shootout, Andrei finds himself wandering onto the ice, a stage now set up in the center and a smaller one to the left. He finds some of the benches that were previously used for the draft pressed against the penalty boxes and takes a seat, joined shortly by some other players like Marner, Swayman, the Hughes brothers, and Wilson.

The lights dim, the cheer from the crowd going up as the bassline emanates from the speakers and Andrei watches as dancers file out before being followed by Keely herself. Gone is the bright yellow of her All-Star jersey, now replaced with a black bodysuit that shimmers under the spotlight, highlighting every curve.

If the world faded when she stepped out onto the stage, it all but vanished completely when she started singing. Andrei leans in, listening, intent on picking up every detail that he could. And what he hears makes his heart ache.

It isn’t the first song that catches his attention (although he would agree that he had never met a girl like her before) but the last three songs that cleared some lingering questions in his mind.

You have more pieces of me than the desert has sand & I have less pieces of you than I can hold in my hand.

You were my everything and all that you did was make me fucking sad.

I’ll play the villain in your life – whatever helps you sleep at night.

He didn’t follow celebrity gossip, didn’t make note social media headlines, but here, right now, it felt like Keely herself was telling him everything: a story of heartbreak and betrayal. It felt as if he could see her for exactly who she was; someone who had every pain inflicted upon them and still carried those feelings with them, despite the front she presented to the world.

Andrei feels like he is cheering the loudest of them all when she strikes her final pose, the spotlights shining down. She smiles to the crowd, giving a small bow and a wave to the stadium around her before turning and heading back down the locker room tunnel.

It takes Andrei a few minutes of wandering through the tunnels of Scotiabank before he finds Keely again, this time leaning against the wall in a nice shirt and casual jeans, a glass of white wine perched in one hand and her phone in the other.

“Hey,” he says, walking those final few paces towards her. The sound of his voice causes her head to lift, a smile appearing on her lips when her eyes land on him.

“Hey, yourself.”

“I, um… I wanted to say that you were really good. Performing, I mean.”

“Oh. So, I wasn’t good Thursday night?” Keely teases, taking another casual sip of her wine, no doubt relishing the sight of Andrei’s cheeks turning pink as those images return easily to his mind.

“No, you were… you were fucking fantastic that night,” he says, watching as Keely’s own smile grows.

The two of them stand there in silence, the space between them feeling as much of a contradiction as their own connection. What did it mean to know someone in such an intimate way but also be so detached from each other in every other possible aspect? The rockstar and the hockey player: a pairing that no one would have guessed.

Andrei hated it – hated the distance between them that would only widen after this weekend. But he didn’t want to lose Keely, even though all logic stated that he should forget about their tryst and not pursue her further. But his desire to have her close overwhelmed his rational mind, which had his next words falling from his lips.

“Listen,” he begins, his voice still a tad uncertain. “I’m not sure what your life looks like right now – I know mine is only going to get busier – but I really enjoyed being with you. Not just in bed but in general. And if you want to connect later, I’ll be available.”

Andrei waits, studying her face and every miniscule expression that passes over her. He doesn’t pry, doesn’t backtrack, doesn’t do anything except let the silence linger between them as Keely thinks. He watches as her blue eyes lift to meet his and for the first time since he spoke to her, he can see a vulnerability glimmer in those sapphire pools, the sight of it making his heart ache.

“Would you wait for me, Andrei?” she asks, her voice quiet and he can feel the weight of that question rest on his shoulders. How many badly had people hurt her? How deep was the betrayal that she experienced that made her this uncertain? Whatever the answer was to those questions, he knew the resounding answer to hers.

“I would.”

Keely’s lips lift in a small smile, clearly able to hear the conviction in his voice.

“Confidence,” she whispers, echoing the words from that first night once again. She takes a sip of her wine and Andrei watches as her demeanor shifts back into the savvy rockstar that he had known. “Well, then… I might take you up on that offer.”

He doesn’t say anything, just smiles brightly. He is content to give her a nod, turning away from her and ready to walk back down the tunnel. But then a thought nags at the back of his brain, yelling at him in the same tone as an annoyingly familiar voice. Andrei spins and returns to stand in front of Keely, an adorably amused but somewhat confused expression on her face.

“I have one last favor to ask you,” he says, reaching into his pocket and fishing out his phone. “Could you make a video for my teammate Seth? He’s a huge fan.”

The sound of her laughter echoing down the hallway at his request makes Andrei smile, slightly chuckling with her.

“Not what I thought you would say but of course. Anything for a fan,” she replies, the bright lilt in her voice matching her laughter. “Seth? That’s his name?”

Andrei nods and holds his phone up towards her, watching through the screen as she places her wine glass down on the ground and turn towards him. A small nod of her head gives him the go-head to start the recording.

“Hi Seth. I heard from someone here at the All-Star game that you were a big fan. It’s wild to think that my music is listened to by professional hockey players and who knows, maybe I have you to thank for getting me to Toronto. Maybe next All-Star game, I’ll see you here.”

Keely ends the video with a wink and even a cheeky kiss blown in the cameras direction before waving goodbye. Andrei stops the recording, saving it to his photos and he feels Keely slide up next to him. His fingers hit the play button and they both watch the video back. Keely hums softly and he looks down at her, an embarrassed grimace on her face.

“That last bit might have been too much,” she explains and Andrei drags the play-bar back, watching the video of Keely’s wink and kiss. And looking at it again, he can see that her eyes are not trained at the camera lens but at the cameraman – him. It makes his heartbeat increase at the sight of her so boldly flirting with him but he also understands her hesitation. Seth would surely notice and ask questions and Andrei did not want… whatever was happening between them, to leak before they even had a chance to discover what it all meant.

“Do you think you could edit it out?”

“Sure,” he replies.  

Andrei is quick to nod his head, even faster to open the editor and cut that small section out of the video. He pauses over the save button, the app asking if he wants to save the new video separately or replace the old one with it. His eyes flick back to Keely, her own blue irises sparkling up at him, seeing his hesitation.

“Mind if I keep that last bit for myself?” he questions. The proposal brings another smile onto Keely’s face and he can almost see the quiet laughter in her eyes.

“Not at all. It was meant for you anyway.”

taglist: @fallinallincurls @laureniray @comphy-and-cozy @smileysvech @pyotrkochetkov @thewintersoldierdisaster

let me know if you want to be tagged in this story or if you want to add yourself to my general taglist, click here!!

[tollsoftheclockwerkbelle]

I am so tired. Can I. just... girlenjoy this please

[antianakin]

If we do ever get a Reva spin-off show (or movie, whatever), I would like to put it out there that it shouldn't have a SINGLE cameo. Not one. No Rebels characters, no Sequels characters, no Force ghosts, no Ahsoka, no Luke or Leia, no other Jedi survivors, NOBODY. No cameos, just Reva and a cast of original characters.

[dee-writes-anime]

Hello ! How you doing ?

I noticed that your requests are open, so i'm gonna yap about my favorite Winged Hero: Keigo !

I always think about reader being in a relationship with Hawks, but she feels like she doesn't really belong with him. He is famous, popular and very loved by his fans, meanwhile she likes to live a calm life, only talking and getting involved if someone reaches for her first.

Reader intends to break up with him, but his bird brain got a different message about it: he thinks she just needs more attention and more courting gifts.

So now reader has a collection of shiny rocks, lots of scented blankets and shirts, and a nonstop whistling Keigo around her.

I just really love the idea of Hawks tagging himself as a No refund Partner 🤭

(Feel free to ignore this, if you don't like it. Sending you lots of love, your writting is amazing 🥰)

No Refunds!

FEATURING Keigo 'Hawks' Takami i x Reader

SUMMARY You fear that Keigo's fast-paced life is too much for you and try to take a step back, but it doesn't seem to work out that well for you. It's just too bad Keigo doesn't believe in refunds.

CONTENT WARNINGS quiet reader, hawks being a literal bird

AUTHORS NOTE hope you all enjoy more of our feather-winged hero because, based on these requests, y'all can't seem to get enough of him!

You’d imagined this moment for weeks—a careful plan to untangle yourself from the wings of a man who seemed to live a world apart from your own. Keigo’s life was a loud one, a kaleidoscope of flashing lights, bright interviews, fans hanging on his every word and movement. You couldn’t shake the feeling that he belonged somewhere out there, in the heart of the storm, while you were left holding onto calmness, craving quiet.

So you’d practiced your words, rehearsed in the mirror, hoping to explain it gently: Keigo, you’re amazing, but I don’t fit into this life. You deserve someone who can keep up, who thrives under a spotlight.

But as you sat across from him in the dimly lit corner of your apartment, watching him devour his meal with an unshakable confidence, all those carefully chosen phrases began to slip away. The man was impossible to ignore, so vividly alive in his unbridled energy, his mouth curling into a familiar, teasing grin every time he caught you looking. It was like trying to capture a gust of wind in your hand—the moment you thought you had him pinned, he shifted, always a step ahead, eyes twinkling with that irreverent humor that made your heart ache.

“Keigo, I just…” you began, feeling your courage falter under his steady gaze. He didn’t miss a beat, his fork pausing in midair as he gave you his full attention.

“Go on,” he said, his voice low but attentive, his eyes narrowing with a glint of curiosity that warned you he wasn’t going to let anything slide by unnoticed.

You took a breath, trying to anchor yourself. “I just… sometimes I feel like I don’t really belong in your world,” you said, voice barely above a whisper.

The words hung in the air, and Keigo stared at you, unblinking, as if you’d just told him something in a language he didn’t quite understand. After a moment, he let out a soft chuckle, eyes shining with that familiar, playful disbelief. “You? Not belong with me?” He shook his head, leaning back in his seat with that cocky, amused grin that somehow melted the tension in the room. “I don’t buy that, not for a second.”

Your heart twisted painfully, but before you could explain, he shifted closer, closing the space between you with the effortless grace of a hawk zeroing in on its mark. He tilted his head, studying you with an intensity that made your cheeks warm, a hint of softness underlying his typically mischievous gaze.

“Listen,” he said, his voice a soft murmur, “if you’re worried about keeping up with me, don’t be. You ground me, you know? Not everything has to be about the spotlight.” He leaned in, and his thumb brushed your cheek, a gentle, fleeting touch that left you breathless. “You’re my calm in all the chaos, you know that?”

Your resolve wavered, and all you could manage was a quiet nod before he kissed your cheek, lingering just long enough to leave a warmth behind. As he left that night, your mind kept replaying that look in his eyes—a flicker of vulnerability that felt strangely out of place on him.

The next morning, you woke to find something glinting on your bedside table. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes, and there it was—a smooth, shining rock, no larger than your thumb, with flecks of gold swirling through its charcoal-gray surface. You reached for it slowly, as if it might vanish at any moment, the unexpected gift settling warm and solid in your palm.

A small folded note rested beside it, scrawled with Keigo’s messy handwriting: Something pretty, just like you! – K

You couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up, though it came with a pang of sadness. So this was his response? He wasn’t angry or upset; instead, he left a little piece of beauty for you, something that made you feel strangely… cherished. As if he was whispering, See? You’re part of my world. I want you here.

If only he left it at that..

The next morning, as you opened your front door, you found a Hawks-branded bag stuffed with the coziest-looking items imaginable. Luxurious blankets, soft enough to melt in your fingers, with colors that reminded you of his wings—deep crimsons and warm golden yellows. There was a plush feather-shaped pillow tucked inside, soft and inviting, as if he’d tried to bottle the feeling of his own feathers just for you.

Another note, taped to the top of the bag: For when you want a cozy night in, courtesy of your favorite Winged Hero.

In a daze, you pulled the pillow out, feeling the way it seemed to form to your touch, soft and strangely comforting, like you were holding a part of him in your hands. You couldn’t help but laugh to yourself, though it was tinged with disbelief. Hawks, your Keigo, was attempting to make your space his nest—one soft corner at a time.

You weren’t sure what to think. The gifts kept coming, like waves lapping persistently at the shore, never once relenting. Soon, you had a growing collection of glimmering stones, each unique in color, shape, and size. Some had ribbons tied around them, others were polished to a glassy sheen. By the end of the week, you could open your own boutique: Hawks’ Feathered Finds.

It was almost funny, in a way, how Keigo’s gift ideas seemed to expand. If the shiny stones weren’t enough to convince you of his commitment, the silky blankets and cozy pillows that soon followed would certainly drive the point home.

But as much as the blankets were a nice touch, that wasn’t enough either. No, Keigo’s gifts evolved in a way you hadn’t anticipated. Not satisfied with just leaving inanimate reminders of himself, he began to bring his own shirts, freshly washed and scented with that clean, faintly spicy cologne that was unmistakably his. Each time he left one, it felt like he was marking his presence all over again. When you came home one day to find three different button-ups hanging over your chair, neatly folded with another note—“So you won’t miss me too much”—you realized how completely he’d misunderstood your meaning.

And it didn’t stop there.

You started hearing bird calls, from sharp whistles to melodic chirrups, each one distinct and practiced. They’d come at random times during your day, clear and unmistakable, carrying across rooftops or echoing down quiet streets. Keigo would appear out of nowhere with a casual “Hey,” as if he hadn’t just called you over like a sparrow to its nest. Once, you looked out the window and spotted him standing on the rooftop opposite yours, watching you with that familiar spark of mischief in his eyes as he gave a gentle coo that made your cheeks flush.

Then there was the food. Keigo made it a habit to bring takeout on the evenings he knew you were working late, showing up with your favorite dishes and a grin that always promised a good story to go along with them. He’d kick off his shoes like he’d lived there forever, settling in as if he belonged, yet somehow always a little hesitant. You could tell he was waiting, looking at you as if searching for any sign that his gifts were having an effect.

Finally, one evening after he’d tucked a particularly soft blanket around you with all the precision of a nesting bird, you couldn’t help but ask, “What exactly are you doing, Keigo?”

He looked up from where he’d just finished arranging the folds of the blanket on your couch, his feathers twitching at your question. “What do you mean?” he asked, his amber eyes wide with feigned innocence.

“Keigo…” you said, trying to hold back a laugh as you gestured around your apartment, now cluttered with glistening stones, colorful feathers, and shirts that still carried his scent. “You’re… making a nest in my apartment.”

His wings fluttered, a small chuckle escaping as he scratched the back of his head. “Guess you could call it that.” He crossed over to where you sat, his gaze growing softer. “But I’m just making sure you know you’re not going anywhere.”

You shook your head, equal parts amused and bewildered. “I… I don’t think that’s how it works.”

Undeterred, Keigo leaned in, his head tilting down just slightly so his eyes met yours, the mischief in them mingling with something warmer, something that pulled at your heart. “Maybe not,” he murmured, his tone more serious than you’d ever heard. “But I don’t give up that easily. You don’t just get to decide you’re going to leave, y’know?”

A small pang tightened in your chest. How could someone like him, someone whose life glittered with fame and thrill, expect to keep someone like you by his side? Yet, looking into his eyes, you saw something deeper, even a little vulnerable, as his thumb traced soft circles over your hand.

“Keigo… I’m not…” you began, trying to find the words. “I just… sometimes I feel like I’m not cut out for this, like I don’t belong in this world of yours.”

He watched you for a long moment, his gaze gentle but unwavering. “Sweetheart,” he said softly, his wings rustling, “you’re not holding me back. You’re the calm in my storm. And I’m not about to let that slip away.” His hand tightened around yours just slightly. “Besides, I never heard any rule about ‘no refunds’ not applying to relationships. So guess what? You’re stuck with me.”

You looked around, taking in the stones, the blankets, the shirts—this strange, feathered haven he’d created around you, like a nest meant just for the two of you. You hadn’t realized you’d been dating an actual bird until now, and it hit you with a surprising warmth, a feeling that maybe, just maybe, you did belong here after all.

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@surielstea

[leaf-line]

Hello! Can i request some Yandere robin/Kafka and Himeko (seperate) x Gn reader, romantic hcs, please?

𝐒𝐡𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐰𝐚𝐲

Yandere! Robin/Kafka/Himeko x Gn! Reader

❏ You weren't staying away from them because you were 'shy', you have a perfectly good reason to.

cw: ooc, general yandere content.

w/c: 1,557

You were happy with what you have, you were happy with the many people around you, but you liked Robin too.

She was irreplaceable, along with all of the people you love. You cared about everyone.

Robin liked you too! She liked the way you told her not to push herself much and to not pressure herself, the way you were all worried and caring for Robin.

She relishes on your affection for her greatly, no matter how small or big it is, Robin would indulge in your attention.

Even if you give her the smallest affection, then the largest to somebody else, she's... she's... She's fine by it. Totally.

But later, you were suddenly down, refusing to pay attention to her, or anything for the matter, even yourself.

Thus... Robin thinks you need saving.

No, no, why won't you smile like you used to? Did something so bad happen?

Robin is appalled by the way you just won't help yourself or push yourself for the better and move on? Isn't that what you told her to do? Why are you opting to be a flesh rotting in your bed and not getting out of your shell?

She had problems too, she too were hard on herself when her mom died, but she used those experiences to get up and push further, why can't you do the same?

She thought that maybe it was her turn to give her full affection and attention to you instead. In a way to pay you back, yet... You won't allow her.

Robin is just concerned. Why won't you let her pamper you?

Why won't you let her sing songs to you?

Why won't you let her visit you?

How could you even refuse such an angel who's willing to drag you up when you're down?

Maybe you're shy. Perhaps she's way too overbearing for your mental capacity to accept her payback. She's sweet, empathetic, and extremely kind to you, especially you.

Why else would you avoid her other than the reason that you're flustered by her appearance? It's because of that, and that's the only reason.

"Oh... My love... Is there any other reason why you're avoiding me other than you think I'll over shine you? Don't worry, I won't do that. You deserve your own spotlight! I'll look at it, only me... I love you, alright?"

She says, clinging on your waist, holding it down enough for you to be thoroughly uncomfortable inside. She would then brush your hair with her hand as if you were a delicate being she needed to protect from danger.

Even after you have tried to escape her countless times, she still has you in her arms, begging for your attention every second, every minute, every hour. It's scary to know that with the snap of her fingers, all of her devoted fans would turn their heads at you, ready to strike with their pitch forks and torches for not accepting such an angel in your life.

Though... Has she ever stopped and thought that maybe, just maybe, the reason for you avoiding her was because you just figured out that she's the reason that the people you've recently been talking to disappear out of thin air? Even the ones you treasured and cared for?

You didn't find any animal fact that said birds are ruthless when they are jealous. You learned it the hard way.

Robin didn't even give you enough time to grieve for them before clinging on to you now that her 'obstacles' are gone.

She hums a melody. It's as if to comfort you from your loss, it feels mocking.

You found a lady so breathtakingly beautiful it captured your full attention.

You then would ask for her number, maybe start a small chat, heck, even standing next to such beauty would be enough.

If you found Kafka beautiful, then she finds you adorable.

She's curious as to why you would willingly march straight into danger, clueless and unarmed. She might as well give it a shot and try to get to know you better.

This isn't a part of the script. Plus, she finds your face and mentality cute. Is there really no way you don't know anything about her?

Perhaps you don't read the news or you haven't seen her wanted posters in all its glory. Perhaps you knew and are just dipping your hand in with hidden intent. Perhaps you're just dumb. Either way, she'll know soon enough.

Rather than subtly forcing you to outright say who you are, Kafka played the slow—yet fun—game.

You went from conversing, to going on dates, to walking together in the sunset.

And not once has she seen you feel threatened around her, or even show a hint of your plans to capture her. Every last bit of you was adorable as she thought. That surprises her for a bit. However, not for long.

"This gift is handmade, my efforts and results. Accept it, dear." People's fun has to end one way or another

Her voice makes your ears ring, it gives you a headache. As much you want to cover your ears and muffle her sickly sweet voice, you can't. Your hand is trembling. It is too heavy to move, and you already feel bile rising up on your throat.

It was going well. Now you're asking yourself why we're you sitting on the ground, bathing in a puddle of blood.

Huh...? She told you in one of your dates she was going to gift you a big surprise, you weren't expecting a surprise that makes you fall on your knees at the sight in a different way.

Why... Why is this happening?

You get up on your feet and run away as fast as you can, just anyhow to get away from her.

"Don't try to back out now... You're hurting my feelings." Her footsteps were slow, loud, impending.

Tap, tap, tap, tap—

"You wanted to get to know me too, didn't you? Are you not liking what you see? Are you not liking the real me?" She tries to convince you.

Tap, tap, tap—

"Come on, don't be shy, I don't bite, I promise, come out now. You can't hide forever, can you?" She hums, as if to harmonize it with her footsteps.

Tap.

"Found you."

Don't just walk straight into the cobwebs and try to leave so quickly, for the more you struggle to escape, the more you get tangled and stuck in it.

Himeko wanted you join her, to board the Astral Express, telling you all sorts of stuffs about how amazing it would be to travel all across the cosmos.

You were there to support her from the start, she wished the same for the end.

You admired her ambitions and pushed her up to reach it. Himeko wanted you to be with her when she does so.

Himeko loved you dearly, the way you would encourage her on her adventures, the way you'd still swallow the last drop of coffee she made for you even though it's hard to swallow, the way you would hold her hand and tell directly that things will go the way she would want it.

She loved the way you can easily melt her heart with those genuine words and touch.

But when you declined and said that you will only be there to watch her fulfill her dreams. It was difficult to take in, but she wasn't able to press further.

And so she conducts the train without you. Only occasionally visiting your home world, then to leave, for there's more other pressing matters.

But the more she embarks, the more she learns and develop her own mindset.

For Himeko, trailblazing follows an unspoken set of steps to commit. Board the train, build immovable and precious memories, then disembark.

In other words, leave. It's difficult, but Himeko's determination perseveres, no matter how many of her short time companions leave her, she will still traverse the stars.

Himeko is the conductor, the train needs her to move.

But she needs you to move. Right now, she needs to hear your voice, your way of lightening up her day with little to no effort. So things will be alright with her. No matter how lonely it gets, no matter how much difficult it is to preserve these memories, she can still retell those adventures with you.

"Isn't that right? [Name]?" She puts her cup of coffee, gazing at the coffee table, then takes a moment to admire the scenery of the window, showing the stars of the universe at full display along with the planet close enough to visualize, then you.

The couch you were sitting on were the same as where Himeko sits. You felt compelled to move away from her, yet she will only move closer. "Don't be shy, it's just the two of us here. The others are away." She gestures at the window. "If you're worried about PomPom, they're in a different room."

She holds your hand tightly, things will go the way she would want it, not the way you would want.

"Please don't leave me. You wouldn't wanna make me lonely, would you?" She holds your hand closer to her face.

Declining isn't an option anymore.

[mapoeggplant]

skip to loafer chapter 62 analysis // spoilers

skip to loafer reiterated its message of "i love you as a person" in a soft and fun chapter. and with that, takamatu-sensei prepares us for a new arc that promises to be full of unforgettable moments.

(since the translation is still very fresh, i'll try to focus more on using the raws not to spoil anyone. i hope you understand that!!)

honestly, i find light chapters like this the hardest to analyze on their own, especially ones like chapter 62 that brings back several loose ends in order to tie up another knot before continuing the journey. so, instead of analyzing the chapter itself, i'm going to bring back some old debates and fit them into this new phase of each character.

even though friendship was the main point of the chapter, in my opinion mika also deserves her own spotlight since, in one way or another, she basically served as a bond between the two groups.

in the case of the boys, her name is brought up when shima reveals that he invited her to his travel group, without much thought of the consequences. this causes a certain amount of anger in mukai, who was the person who witnessed very closely mika's reactions before and after the confession (and even later, when she was talking to nao by the beach). however, he’s also one of shima’s oldest friends, so he knows exactly what he been through, which is te exactly reason why he acts impulsively. 

it's as if he were between two different oceans, not knowing which way to go, since both are too turbulent for him to navigate. it's hard for mukai to completely side with his friend, since mika's feelings are still very vivid to him, but he knows all the difficulties that shima went through regarding her own internal terrors, that’s why he holds himself back to not curse him or anything. what he ends up choosing is the safest rote, which is to scold him with an open heart, making sure to show that what he did was wrong. in the end, he won’t explain it to shima the exact reason why he’s mad because he knows he doesn’t have the rights to speak for mika, that’s why the message gets a little confusing for shima, who’s still learning and growing (and honestly, the reacting of stop to understand where mukai was coming from is actually a big step for him, which i appreciate). 

in the case of the girls, mika is also the only one who, up until now, knows about the events before and after the confession. she can see the sincerity and kindness behind shima, who continues to respect and see her as a friend, but it's hard not to assume a protective position when the new person to be affected by the same feelings is mitsumi, someone who she became so important to her. and that's where her growth as a character is slowly revealed.

mika has always created her own barrier and has had difficulty opening up to the girls. and that didn’t start recently, since she have been dealing with her insecurities for as long as she can remember. mika spend most of her childhood alone and had a hard time to make friends when she started her teenage years, which led her to have a very abrupt start when she met mitsumi, yuzu and makoto. for her, it has always been very difficult to see herself in a group of friends and to be comfortable with herself to the point of expressing her mind clearly. 

as the story go by, we can see how comfortable mika is now with the girls, but old habits are hard to erase. even with all her conversations with nao and the peace she feels around her friends, there are still a lot to be unfold and a lot to grow. 

however, for her to grow, she needs to keep trying. and that’s when she choses to shine in this chapter: she finally manages to open up to mitsumi and reveal the secret that corrupts her so much. 

ever since mitsumi confessed the relationship she and shima had, mika has been struggling with indecision about whether to open up or keep the event forever as a bad memory from the past. it's hard for her, since she doesn't want to lose mitsumi's friendship or the other girls', but she also needs to accept what happened in order to finally say goodbye to them. it's not that she doesn't have her feelings cleared up inside her or that they still have a chance to blossom again. what really hits her is the fact that she's hiding something she considers important from her best friends, which might results in a awkward situation later on. 

the moment mika admits out loud that mitsumi is much more important in her life than any past crush, mika is finally saying goodbye to this weight she's carried for so long and can finally start another chapter in her life. now, she no longer has anything hidden or needs to walk on eggshells — the love she embraced and the love she receives are enough for her to stand tall. 

the development of skip to loafer's friendships is indeed something that needs to be celebrated. throughout the narrative, we are constantly reminded that the story itself is built on the idea that love doesn't need to be romantic to be true, it just needs to be felt. loving someone is accepting their flaws and understanding their scars, like mukai and shima; loving someone is being vulnerable, like mika and mitsumi; loving someone is going out together to buy clothes for a trip they've been waiting for.

it's beautiful to see how the girls care about mitsumi and her feelings, but still root for her happiness and are excited for her. it's beautiful to see how they're always together in difficult times, whether they're big or small (or even medium, like what's the right outfit to wear on a date. that's very important for a teenage girl). 

and for shima and mitsumi, it’s cute to see how shy they are around each other and how they are allowed to slowly understand their feelings. the narrative doesn’t force them to anything at any point or rushes them to a resolution, what it does is explore the nuances and difficulties of dealing with your first ever romantic love, specially when you were never allowed to explore your own feelings in the first place (like shima), and the fear of losing a best friend that you cares so much (like mitsumi feels). 

i don’t think this is the calm before the storm, but i do believe takamatsu-sensei is getting us ready for what’s coming next. i do believe this will be a very decisive arc for a lot of characters, but it will also birth many more plots for us to explore.

thank you so much for reading 💛 don't forget to support the author if you can and also thank the translation group!!

and if you're interested, i wrote a while ago an analysis about skip to loafer's "i love you as a person" message. just click here to find it!

[kryptonbabe]

🔥 Some hot takes on the women of the Superfamily:

Superwoman should be Kara Zor-el and neither Lois Lane nor Lana Lang – historically I know they came first, but in the universe it makes much more sense for this title to go for Kara (like in Kara Zor-el Superwoman in the Future State event, bring that costume back too, it's time to end the war on skirts, pants are cool, but skirts are not inherently sexist please and Kara is known for her fashion diversity...)

Let Natasha Irons be more than your LGBTQ / black token, we only see her as more than a background character in diversity specials and she can be way more interesting than that, she fought a powerful sentient AI in Superman and the Authority and it was so cool, she could be a valuable member of a team (any team except Suicide Squad please), let her shine even if she's not necessarily the main character

Don't make Lois Lane a super-powered person (unless it's really quickly just for fun or an old-timey throwback), let her be cool for her own merits, regular humans can have interesting abilities you know (some would mention Batman as an example even). She's an awesome investigative reporter and she could have another series, even if a limited one like the 2019's Greg Rucka, Mike Perkins one. Lois had a super popular series (Superman's Girl Friend, Lois Lane) from 1959 to 1974, she deserves the spotlight

If you need to give powers to Lana Lang make her Insect Queen again, let my girl be weird, she's very underutilized these days either way (and I don't know... bring back Bee-boy, he had only one appearance but sure it was a tragic and bizarre story, he would do a fine super-villain or... a Doom Patrol member! This could be a whole arc about how he has his life destroyed, his heart broken and goes on a path of rage until the Doom Patrol reaches out and he finds a new family... but ok enough of Bee-boy)

Let's stop trying to make Karen, aka Power Girl, into a Superfamily member (I'm looking at you 2023 Power Girl series), she respects them, but her family is the JSA, she actively refused multiple times to be associated with the Superfamily, not because she hates them, but because she makes a point of being her own woman, creating her own legacy. She's a proud and sometimes hardheaded person yes, but that's her personality and that makes her different and interesting

.

.

.

Where the fuck is Otho-ra??????????????????

[kurogane2512]

So there's this fluffy thought I can't get my mind off of, imagine famous actress! Signora with a wife who still flirts with her, who would still court her even after they got married and just look absolutely in love with Signora 🥺 (can you tell i love Signora)

-🐯

WE love Signora here 😩 Pls I would totally be head over heels for her even in old age 😭❤️

Genshin Impact | Modern AU

Actress!La Signora x fem!reader | Fluff

The blinding flashes of cameras, cheers from the crowd and noise from the reporters burst forth the moment the most-awaited car drove through the driveway. An all too familiar yet exquisite deep red color adorned it's exterior, heralded as the most expensive car in the world and known to have only 4 models ever- Rolls-Royce La Rose Noire Droptail. There was only 1 person in this country that owned this beautiful beast, the everlasting beauty whom the car was named after- Rosalyne Lohefalter, or famously known by her stage name, La Signora.

"Signora! Miss Signora! Look here! Look at the camera!" the cameramen, reporters and fans all shouted in unison as the car hood rolled back giving way to the star herself. Signora waved at the people around with a gentle smile on her face, meanwhile the person accompanying her who was none other than her wife got out of the car and walked around to open the door for her. You extended your hand to your wife who accepted with a smile and finally showed herself in her full glory. You kissed the top of her hand as she stepped out, grinning at her slightly flustered reaction.

"Look here! Miss Signora! Ms Y/n! Pose together! You both look gorgeous!"

The people shouted and you decided to oblige them by posing with your wife for a few photos before stepping away to give her her spotlight. This event was for her, she was the star and she deserved every bit of this treatment. The camera flashes added more sparkle to her low-cut dazzling white gown that was adorned with roses and embroidery near the base. Her shining blonde hair flowed freely, styled with 2 rose buns and rose accessories in her hair. She waved and blew kisses at the camera as she walked forward before stopping and turning around to look at you, extending her hand out.

"Let's go, my love~"

You smiled and joined hands then walked the red carpet together. The camera flashes and cheers didn't stop even for a moment as you walked, she really was a star unlike anyone else. You were attending an awards show where she was nominated for the Best Actress award for her latest movie which was a blockbuster, critics and fans alike expected her to bag the award for sure. She had everything a star actress could, she was set to become legendary and be remembered for decades to come.

You reached the main photo area of the venue, Rosalyne greeted some of her friends and co-stars on the way then pulled you to the photo area for her turn. You were keen to let her have her solo photos but the photographers requested you to join in as you made a perfect couple. You snaked you arm around her waist and posed together for some photos before letting go and stepping to the side, once again she did some solo poses for the eager fans and camera.

She looked at you and you exchanged smiles, a light blush crawling up her cheeks whenever your eyes met. She was then ready to walk off, you offered your hand to her from afar and she barely grasped it when you suddenly pulled her closer and pressed her body against yours before connecting your lips together. The crowd gasped and broke in excited cheers even more, the camera clicks and flashes going haywire at the unforgettable moment.

Rosalyne's eyes widened in surprise the moment you kissed, yet her hands held your shoulders in a natural way as if you had practiced this when in reality, you hadn't. Your arms secured her waist in a possessive yet gentle way, you loved surprising her this way and you knew she loved it too. The kiss was short-lived, you parted with a smile and she appeared awestruck, the noise from the people around inaudible to her as only you occupied her senses.

"Shall we go in, Rosa?~"

Your voice brought her back to her senses and she covered her blushing face then nodded and walked with you without sparing a glance at the cameras despite the constant requests. Everyone wanted to capture her flustered face, but only you had the privilege of making it happen in the first place. It was surreal to see a famous and talented actress like her become embarrassed of such moments, but that's what made her so humane and adorable.

The way you showered her in affection at such places always caught her off guard despite how much she had experienced it, she just couldn't get used to it. Rosalyne looked down for the rest of the way before you were stopped by an interviewer and she donned her usual confident expression and held your arm lovingly. You too would always get surprised at how apt she was at adapting to situations this way, but she wouldn't be a star like this if she couldn't do this.

"Ms Signora, how excited are you for the evening? Ready to bag your award for the 4th consecutive year, I suppose?~" the interviewer asked, and Rosalyne gave a simple smile.

"Well, I'd hope so. But there are many other deserving candidates this time so I wouldn't regret losing, it should go to whoever deserves it. I'm just happy to be here with my darling~" she cuddeled into your chest.

"Speaking of your partner, how are you feeling, Ms Y/n?" the interviewer asked you now.

"Uh, well, I'm definitely more nervous here than her that's for sure." you chuckled.

"Oh, you don't know how the fans talk about you both. You have certainly found a way into their hearts, in more ways than one~"

You chuckled with a shrug of your shoulders, "I have seen some messages, yes. They are quite.... daring, to put it nicely~"

The interviewer chuckled along, "You can't blame them now, can you? Some people want to be you and some want you! Have you seen those messages, Ms Signora?~"

Rosalyne's grip on your arm tightened for a moment before she loosened it to answer the interviewer, "Of course, I have. All I can say is I'm blessed to have her by my side. And I'm not giving her to anyone~"

Signora winked at the camera with a smirk. The interviewer laughed more then wished you both a good time and let you walk away. You made your way inside the arena when you noticed Rosalyne seemed to be deep in thought.

"Rosa, are you okay?"

Rosalyne looked at you with a pout then rested her head on your shoulder, "I have told you to refrain from public affection at such events.... I can't imagine how the media will react to that kiss now."

You grinned, "I don't care how they'll react. I simply wanted to love my wife, is that wrong?~"

"Mm, I know. I liked it too but..."

She squeezed your arm more then mumbled something inaudible. You smiled to yourself and remained silent as you already knew what she was feeling. You got seated at your designated table and the show began soon after. After an hour, the most awaited moment of the night came- the announcement of the Best Actress award. The nominations were announced followed by a dramatic silence as the envelope was opened.

You held Rosalyne's hand and gently squeezed it, the two of you exchanging smiles with each other. You couldn't deny you were far more nervous than her, you knew she won't be as upset about losing but you really wanted her to win. She was the most deserving in your eyes. Rosalyne noticed your nervousness and smiled to herself before gently patting your arm and looking at you.

"La Signora!"

A roar of claps and cheers erupted as her name was announced as the winner. Your heart skipped a beat and you immediately hugged her then exchanged a small kiss before escorting her to the stage, you kissed the top of her hand before releasing it as she climbed up and waved at the crowd while you stood in front and took her pictures and made a video of her speech.

"I would extend this award to my director and rest of the crew who made the film a possibility and gave me the platform for this, it was truly amazing working with such talented people and I am thankful to my fans for always supporting me. Last but not least, I couldn't do this without my Y/n so a big thank you for being here, darling~"

Rosalyne gave a short and sweet speech as she had prepared before blowing a flying kiss to the crowd and beginning to descend. You quickly went to the stairs and helped her get down, then took her by surprise doing an unexpected action. You picked her up bridal style in your arms, she almost gasped then chuckled and wrapped her arms around your neck and lovingly embraced you as you walked back to your table.

More cheers, claps and even whistles could be heard now. Rosalyne kissed your cheek then held you tightly, you placed her on her chair then sat on yours beside her. Both of you took a moment to look at the trophy then exchanged a small kiss and continued watching the rest of the show. You had initially planned to stay for the after-party but you couldn't wait to take her home, you had planned so much for this moment.

You excused yourselves after the event and decided to go home together. Rosalyne questioned why you were so eager to go back, but she assumed you simply wanted to be alone with her to celebrate her victory. You reached her bunglow then quickly got out of the car and opened the door for her, holding out your hand and helping her come out. She was about to walk forward but you surprisingly put a blindfold on her eyes and started guiding her inside.

"My love? What is happening?"

"Shh, just come with me."

Rosalyne felt excited wondering if you had a surprise for her, you always did so much to love her and support her. She heard a few doors open as you walked before finally making her stand at a place as you removed her blindfold.

"Ta-da!"

You exclaimed and she was spellbound at the scene in front. It was her room yet it looked so different decorated with all sorts of balloons and flowers. You brought out a table that had a cake on top with the writing, "Congratulations". Tears of happiness formed in her eyes and she couldn't hold back from embracing you tightly.

"Thank you, my sweetheart... Oh, what did I do to deserve you in my life?"

You smiled and patted her back, "Be yourself, that's all. I love you, Rosa. Today is your day, I'm so happy for you."

She kissed your cheek then cut the cake and happily fed you a piece, you opened the bottle of wine kept under the table and poured it in 2 glasses. You played her favorite music and handed her one glass as both of you sat on the bedside and celebrated together; you drank, laughed and danced together.

She had never felt so appreciated before, she didn't know how to express her gratefulness for you. Before long, you found yourself pinned on the bed with her straddling you and your lips joined in a passionate kiss. Rosalyne wanted to give back for all that you did, she wanted you to feel appreciated too just like you made her feel.

"I love you... I love you so much, my darling...." she mumbled between kisses and proceeded to undress you both, followed by a passionate night of lovemaking.

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

Matt and Peter trying to see who can fuck you better but they both fuck you so good that you become a babbling mess

i meshed two requests together, this one as well as matt and peter fucking villain! reader :)) i had a lotta fun with this one, enjoy!

VIGILANTE SHIT- P.B PARKER & MATT MURDOCK

Pairing: Peter! Matt! x Vigilante Black Cat! Reader (enemies to lovers)

Word Count: 8.8k

Warnings: SMUT, praise and degradation kink, mocking/ babying, petnames, teasing, swearing, mentions of blood/ violence (matt also bandages readers wound), bondage, dry humping, masturbation, breeding kink, man handling, overstim, fluff tho<33

"and i don't dress for villains, or for innocents.. i'm on my vigilante shit again. i don't start shit but i can tell you how it ends..."- vigilante shit, taylor swift

You had married the night.

It was your escape, your desires, your dreams. The stars were rings upon your fingers, the moon a shining spotlight through the clouds as you’d stalk your prey during the hunting hours.

You came alive in the darkness.

You felt like a burst of light, energy and power bursting through your veins. It was when you could take charge. When you could sneak up on people, make them fall to their knees and beg for salvation.

It was when you could get revenge on the people who deserved it most.

You had trained yourself to be a soldier. To have your guard up, to be alert and stealthy. The Black Cat, is what they had called you. You were quiet and flexible, getting in places the average person couldn't.

It was ideal for stealing.

“Stealing” things that didn't belong to the people who had stolen them in the first place. They didn't belong to the white, rich old men the prowled the upper parts of New York.

They didn't belong to the thugs and gangs in Hell's Kitchen either.

They belonged to you.

It was a waiting game, finding the right time to swoop in from your spot on the rooftops to scurry down and collect the goods. But it was one you were willing to play. You had played many games since your time on the streets in the twilight hours, like cat and mouse.

Matt Murdock and Peter Parker were crawling on you like spiders, and you had run into them more times than you could count. As fast as they appeared, you had fled.

They had no idea who you were, but you had made headlines. The thief in the night. The media didn't know anything. They liked to spin and twist lies for their own benefit, so that things would sell and people would become frightened.

What they didn't know- is that you only stole from people who deserved it.

Your own version of justice.

And right now, the men you were watching from the alleyway deserved it. You had been watching the Pirus gang now for days, hiding behind old warehouse containers and perching yourself upon balconies and ledges to spy upon them and their dirty deeds that made your own hands feel greasy with grime.

They had something that belonged to you. You had noted the 18k gold ring getting pocketed between them, a ring that had been gifted to your mother before she had passed.

You didn't care about the imaginary price tag that was attached to it, like these crooks did. You didn’t care you could sell it and easily make a hundred thousand dollars, waving goodbye to student debt and mortgage rates. You just cared that it was in a safe, and valuable place.

Tucked away in the little vintage jewelry box she had gifted you before she took her final breaths on that old, creaking bed.

A growl ripped through your throat as you saw them flip it up like a coin, hearing their mutters about ‘thank god the bitch is dead’. They were just a leap away. With a push, you could jump down upon the pavement, ripping them to shreds with your claws.

You had been patient enough, a clock ticking in your head with each second that had passed where the ring wasn't in your possession.

The ring was an easy target, and you shifted your weight stealthy to propel your body forward.

It was all coming together. It was easy.

Almost too easy.

As you guided yourself, eye on the prize- a sharp jerk yanked you back. The breath was stolen from your lungs, your scream muffled as a hand was placed across your mouth.

“Shhhh. Not a word.” the low voice murmured in your ear, his warm breath making the hairs on your neck rise with anxiety as you struggled against his chokehold grip he held on you against his large, solid body.

You were brought back in through the large warehouse window you had so stupidly turned your back on, too focused on the activities below to realize what was going on behind you.

Who was behind you, for that matter. You twisted your foot to step on his own, but he avoided it, clearly trained in combat as he fought back against your contained fight.

“Don’t make this harder for yourself sweetheart.” he growled, twisting you around to smash your body against the cold brick, the wind knocked out of you, too stunned to cry for help as he tossed you like a rag doll.

A black bandanna covered his eyes, toned body was hidden under the same black fabric, blood smeared across his cracked knuckles. You searched him for some recognition of who he was, but you were too dazed from the sudden assault, heartbeat racing too loud in your ears from adrenaline to think clearly enough.

“She's got fight in her man.” the mystery man smirked, as if you were a wild animal in a cage, desperate to get free.

Shivers broke out across your skin from under the leather as shocks went through your whole body, white, sticky webs clinging you to the wall like a mouse in a trap.

Then it clicked. Oh. Fuck.

“Oh you fuckers.”

A second body hung from the ceiling, emerging from the darkness into the dingy warehouse lighting, attached to a web as he waved at you from upside down.

“Well hello there!” he said cheerfully as if the three of you were all buddy-buddy and this was an everyday event.

“Was that a goddamn Star Wars reference?” you huffed, wanting to strangle the both of them.

“Yes. Maybe. Maybe yes.” He dropped from the ceiling, bouncing on his heels as he looked at you with interest through his mask, head tilted with curiosity.

“You need to slow your heartbeat. Calm down.” the masked man murmured lowly, listening to the increasing speed of its thumps as he neared you. It was then your vision cleared, and you could get a good look at them in the dimmed lighting.

Matt and Peter. 

“I would be calm, if I wasn't webbed to a fucking wall right now.” you sang sweetly, making him smirk.

“It's for your own good.”

“Well technically, it’s for our own good because if she weren't bound she’d be clawing our faces off right now.” Peter noted, his voice fading in the distance as he found some random old chairs that were scattered in the corner.

“Peter’s right ya know.” you played along,  the dragging of the chair's feet against the stone floor coming to an abrupt halt.

“You know my name?”

“Well duh. I’m not stupid, no matter how much you and Mr. Matthew over here may think I am.” You couldn't keep the sly smirk off your face, knowing you had them right where you wanted them.

You couldn't defeat them, and you knew the gang had most likely scrambled by now, along with your ring- but you could keep them talking.

“It's nice for us to finally be acquainted again.” Matt sighed, watching as Peter brought up the chair, plopping himself in one directly in front of you. As if you were a circus act, or the hottest new movie in the box office.

You huffed, not meeting his eyes as Peter curled his feet under him, sitting crisscross in the old, rusting chair. “What is this a therapy session?”

“Does it need to be? Tell me, my darling- how is your relationship with your father?” Peter asked mockingly, making you hiss out in response.

“Alright, alright enough. We just want to talk to you…”

“I’m not giving you my name.” you replied sharply, slightly struggling against the webs, having no luck of them weakening.

“How is that remotely fair?” Peter scoffed.

“Peter- enough. Fine, be that way. As I said, we just want to talk.” Matt exclaimed, cracking his knuckles as his head tilted to listen, surveying the nearby area with his ears.

“I think they left.” you murmured, and he nodded in response, mouth drawn into a hard line. “They left cause you scared them off with all your thrashing. Settle down woman, the webs won't break that easily.”  Peter hinted, watching in amusement as you finally gave up, putting your head down in defeat.

“I hate you.” you murmured softly, quiet as a pin drop as you stared down at the cold concrete.

“Yeah, yeah tell us something we don't know.” Matt sighed, your eyes flickering back up to look at Peter, his legs still crossed in an almost childish manner as he leaned his head in his hands- appearing bored.

“Let's get this over and done with. What do you want to talk about?” you asked, already knowing the answer.

They were going to threaten you- obviously, or they'd try and talk you over with their magical words of wisdom, about how being ‘good’ was better than whatever the fuck you were doing. You didn’t care for it.

But you knew they wouldn't let you go until they said what they had to say.

You fought the urge to shiver, a cold breeze filtering through the broken windows, seething to chill your bones. Your nipples hardened, and you swore Matt’s head tilted slightly, a smirk dotting his face.

“You. Helping us.” Peter retorted, and before you could stop it, you laughed.

You laughed and laughed and laughed because what the fuck? That was the last thing you had expected them to say, his words seeming like an inside joke you weren’t involved with.

The cold had now disappeared, replaced with a warmth and bubbliness that pooled in the pit of your stomach.

“What?” was all you could gasp out, your sides hurting from the continuous laughter that poured out of you. You laughed partly because yes- it was funny, but also because you were confused and anxious. Not that they needed to know that of course.

“We need your help taking on Kingpin.”

There it was.

The laughter stopped. That name had left you scarred, your insides shriveling up at the whispers of memories that trickled through your brain.

“I don’t get involved with him.” you stated, voice hardened like cracked sugar. The air was sucked out of the room, and you saw fear and darkness slither across the brick.

“I know you don’t. That's why we’re now asking you to get involved with him, with us. We need another hand to play in his card game.”

“I don’t. Get. Involved.” you hissed, drawing out each symbol as if they were illiterate. Which they must have been. They must have been borderline stupid to think you would help them, with Kingpin nonetheless.

He was way out of your territory, and there were even lines you didn't cross once they were drawn.

“We’ll help you get your mother's things back.” Peter said cooly from his side of the room. Your head whipped towards him, eyes wide.

Maybe you didn't have the upper hand afterall.

“I don’t need your help.” Peter snorted, hand extending to the broken window, the one you had been perched out of a few minutes prior.

“Yeah. I’m sure.” he said sarcastically. “I had it under control, until you two showed up and ruined it.” you snarled.

“We saved you. They had multiple firearms on them, and you were severely outnumbered. The second you dropped, you would have been shot on the spot, too many bullets to stand a chance.” Matt replied to your outburst coolly. “But you wouldn't have known that, would you? They were tucked away, in their boots and under their jackets. Because if you did know, you would have been openly committing suicide, and that seems unlike you since theres jobs that still need to be done.”

You were silent. They had you in their webs. Quite literally, at that.

“I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

“You always have a choice.” Matt replied softly, his demeanor seeming to change. Almost as if... as if he felt bad for you. As if he could see right through you, could feel the pain and sorrow in your heart that ripped and clawed at you daily, could feel the loneliness and anguish that haunted you.

Maybe he didn't have many choices in his lifetime.

His words were nearly comforting, but you knew they were one-sided. You did have a choice, but if you didn’t accept their offer- things wouldn't turn out good. Not that they would working with them anyways.

But what ‘choice’ did you really have?

“Fine. When do we start?” 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“It’s fucking cold.” you groaned, the air around you seeming brisker with each passing second. New York never seemed to be warm, the skin-tight suit plastered to you not helping the cause.

It was lightweight and stretchy, its fabric perfect for fighting and climbing- but it provided next to no warmth.

The sirens shrieked as they passed by under you, the city lights illuminating the two men next to you as you sat perched on the roof.

It had been a few weeks since the webbing incident, and you now waited- bored out of your mind for an instruction. It was unlike you to listen and not lead, but you wanted to see how the dice would roll.

You crouched low, the concrete block rough and bitter to the touch as you knelt at Peter’s level.

“It’s not cold. You’re just being a pussy.” Peter drawled, the wind whipping through his messy locks as he looked down, taking in the bustling traffic below.

The cars were all fancy here, all Porches and Bentleys on this side of town. It made you feel out of sorts, and uncomfortable in your skin.

“Did you just call me a pussy?”

“He meant it romantically.” Matt replied, your eyes meeting his sharp jawline as he sourced out the area from the other side of you.

“I did not.” he scoffed, a blush burning on his cheeks as he turned away, suddenly very interested with the stone ledge.

“Yeah, yeah whatever. When are we moving in?” you asked impatiently, rocking on the balls of your feet anxiously. It felt like you had been sitting up here forever, despite meeting them back near Hell's Kitchen over half an hour ago.

So in reality, you had really only been sitting here for a good twenty minutes. Yet, it dragged on.

Where was the action? The fighting? You were sick of waiting.

“Don’t even think of moving in without my signal.” Matt stated, sensing your anticipation as you sighed.

“What are we even waiting for?!”

“For them to take their fighting somewhere else.” Peter snorted, obviously as anxious to get going as you were, but it appeared he was more collected. He had been working with Matt a lot longer than you had, and you hoped to keep it that way.

You watched as Matt listened closely, obviously aware of the conversation that was appearing behind the glass in front of you. The two men were tall and build, almost double the size of you. Anger was written across their faces, buried in the creases of their foreheads as they yelled, hands frantically moving. Their black suits were wrinkled, blood dotting one's forehead as if a fight had occurred before this one.

You tilted your head, curious.

Were they not on the same side? Were they not both fighting for Fisk, defending him?

“They seem pretty angry for people who appear to be on the same side.” you hinted, trying to think of reasons they could possibly be so mad.

“You’d be surprised how competitive his men can get, when he's angry the way has been lately.” Peter stated, looking to Matt for instruction as a gun was cocked, hands going up in surrender.

“Should we intervene?”

Matt just shook his head.

“Let it play out.” was all he said. You despised how calm and collected he was about this. Part of you wanted him to be rash, so you could save him and yell at him for how stupid he was. But that wasn't his style, and you knew it never had been. He and Peter waited in the shadows, counting down the minutes until it was right to strike.

Suddenly another man appeared from the hallway, breaking up the fight. They left the room, and you felt your body instinctively moving forward, ready to leap, though you couldn’t reach.

“The documents Peter and I need are in the office across from that one, in a safe behind the painting behind the desks. All the offices look the same, it's an industrial office. You’re in charge of making sure no one comes up on this floor.”

“So what I’m on watch duty? You brought me along so I could protect you guys while you play capture the flag?” you scoffed. Seeing as to how they quite literally webbed you to a wall, asking for your help- you figured it’d be for something much cooler than this.

“For now.” was all he said, a tone in his voice indicating something else was on the table for a later date. “I don’t really have a choice in this.”

“You always have a choice.” he repeated, words echoing those at the warehouse.

“I’m going to fucking punch you.”

A laugh escaped Peter and he was quick to cover it with a slap to the mouth as he watched the stand down you had with Matt. Nothing was coming out of this, and you weren't expecting it to. But it was still fun to try and bother him anyways.

Nothing seemed to get under his skin, which irked you even more. He was the water to your fire, the voice of reasoning. Fuck his reasoning.

“Punch me and I’m telling you right now things will not end in your favor.” Matt snarled, hand grabbing your wrist as you raised it.

“I’ll take my chances.” you hissed back, hair raising on your arms like a cat’s from under your suit.

“Go.” he commanded sternly. “What?”

“Go. The floor is clear, for now. Peter’s taking you over.”

“Wha-” Before you could beg to differ, confused about what the man meant, you felt an arm wrap around your middle. Matt's grip released from your wrist, yet you could still feel the warmth of his skin against yours, the area where his fingers brushed you starting to tingle.

The wind rushed in your ears as Peter grabbed you, a web shooting from his wrist as he swung you off your feet. It took everything in you not to scream, the movement so quick and sudden you felt your lungs come out through your ribcage. You were soaring through the air, Peter's grip tightening on you as you watched the world blaze by in a blend of colours from under you, coming to a standstill as he stuck to the side of Fisks building.

You looked over to where you once were, finding it empty. Matt had already disappeared, not a whisper or a trace that he had ever been there remaining.

“I think I’m going to be sick.” you whispered, looking down and regretting it immensely.

“I thought you liked high places? Don’t all cats?”

“Not this high.” you whimpered, willing for him to pry open the window quicker than he was currently. Although you gave him credit, he was doing it one-handed after all.

“Just don’t look down. That's what I did before I got used to it.” he shrugged, and you clung to him tighter, breathing in the cologne he wore through his suit. It was nice, you realized, sort of hating yourself for liking it as much as you did.

All of a sudden the two of you were much too close, the air becoming hot and saccharine despite being almost twenty stories high, the wind whipping through your hair wildly.

He let out a small grunt as you heard the window click open, the glass freeing enough space for you to wedge your body through.

“This is the storage room, down the hall from the office we’ll be at. Stay close.” he instructed, and you scrambled to grip onto the window ledge. “And don't let yarn be a distraction.” he added teasingly, darting away before you could let out a sly remark in return.

“Asshole” you muttered to yourself, slowly and quietly shutting the window behind you. You had landed upon a shelf, filled with cleaning supplies. The smell of chemicals burned, your nose twitching with disgust as you took in your surroundings.

It was quiet in here, minus the gentle hum of the air vents. Dark as the night outside, you were stealthy and careful not to knock anything over as you leaped to the floor, the hard tile cold under your hands.

Mops, buckets, vacuums and brooms all were dotted against the walls, cleaning chemicals so advanced you didn't even know if you could pronounce them. Sometimes you forgot how much money this man really had. It seemed unimaginable.

Kingpin could probably buy the entire city if he wanted, in all honesty. You were rather confused why he hadn't yet, since that always seemed to be his endgame. Changing the city. Changing the way people lived, changing the way the economy ran to better suit his needs.

All this change that didn’t need to happen. He could change his shitty attitude, or even the paint colour in here. You thought with a sigh, dusting your hands off as you rose to your full height, on high alert as your hand reached for the door handle.

It was quiet outside. Too quiet.

You held your breath, feeling your lungs tighten as you slid beside the door. Your back was to the wall, heartbeat thumping in your chest as you heard a voice call from the end of the hallway, turning the corner.

Waiting wasn't something you were very good at, but you knew you had to time this right. The whole mission- and your life, depended on it. Just as his foot hit the hardwood in front of your hidden alcove, you swung the door open, arm reaching around his throat.

A meer gasp escaped him as you pounced on him, dragging him into the cleaning closet with you. His arm went back to hit you with his gun, but you had wrapped around him like a koala bear- his arms unable to you. His gun clattered to the ground as you kicked it, squeezing your arm around his airways even tighter as he fell back against a shelf.

You winced as the pain shot up your arm as he slammed you back against the wooden ledges, cleaning supplies rattling in the struggle.

“Can you pass out quieter?!” you hissed, feeling his grip lack as he slipped into unconsciousness. You jumped off of him as he thudded down to the ground, limbs spread out as his breathing steadied.

You sighed, dusting off your suit again with the quick bush of your hands. He had got dirt on you- the bastard. Grabbing underneath his armpits, you attempted to trudge the large, beefy man to sit against the shelf.

If he was going to be unconscious, he might as well ruin his posture in the process. It seemed like a fair trade, seeming as he almost pointed a gun at you and smacked your shoulders hard enough to see little black spots dot across your vision.

He would be out cold for a while, hopefully, long enough for your little boy scout duo to get their shit and scramble. You watched as he slouched over, proud of your handiwork. You were lucky he wasn't as large as the other guards you had seen, or else you weren't so sure your strategy would work.

Remembering you had a job to do, you slipped back over to the closed door, poking your head out slightly as you heard the ever so slight creak of a window close from the office down the hall.

Good. They got in.

You were scared to breathe, scared the rush of air whooshing through your trachea would set off some sort of alarm or trigger. It was like walking on pins and needles. The air seemed tighter here, stuffy as it weighed down on you. It was almost an unfamiliar presence was lurking nearby, someone you had seen in a nightmare once before, but had convinced yourself they weren't real.

Shivering, you tried your best to ignore it, slipping off behind the corner- somewhere you knew the cameras wouldn't be able to see you. Peter had already mapped out the floor plan earlier- his long, elegant fingers gliding over the page, his words tuning out slightly as you felt warmth spread through you the longer you watched his fingers point and tap.

You thought of them now as you watched the empty hallways, knowing they were probably gliding across the ridges of the mahogany desk as he waited for Matthew to finish his task.

They brushed against you now as you felt the hairs on the back of your neck raise, a ghost slipping through you.

Someone was watching you. Someone was here with you, and it wasn't Peter.

Before you could turn fully, hands reached for you, tugging you under an invisible wave. You were dragged under the surface, the shock and adrenaline causing you to gasp for air as they yanked you back against the wall.

Men came from all directions, swarming you. You kicked and clawed, getting in a good few punches as you struggled.

You were caught. Again.

But this time, they wouldn't be willing to talk- like Matt and Peter were. You didn’t know what they do, which was the scary part.

“MATT-” You managed to call out, quickly silenced as a butt of a gun was hit to your forehead, the force so strong your neck snapped back, head rolling limp as the sound of the crack reverberated through your ears.

The world turned dark, and you prayed deep down he had some idea what was happening to you at the time being.

He was a catholic. He’d hear.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The world was fuzzy.

Everyone said that, that when their eyes opened it was difficult to see for a bit, shapes and colours blending together. But it was bad. Worse than they put it in the books, when they didnt know how else to change the scene, so they just made the character unconscious or whatever.

You feared you were trapped in a watercolour painting as your eyes opened, hand reaching up to grab the place where your head was throbbing like a jackhammer.

You ached for it to stop, moaning out in pain as the word started to reform itself.

“Shh, shh relax.” a familiar voice called, though he sounded slightly out of tune and distant. Matthew came into view as you turned your head, his hand reaching out to press you back into the pillows.

“What happened?” you croaked out, trying to hold back the tears as you felt dried blood crust on your forehead. There was the sound of water trickling as he twisted out a clean rag, the bowl on the bedside table scattered with medical supplies.

You managed to move slightly, allowing him to sit next to you on the bed, a slight frown on his face as he sighed.

“Peter ran out to back you up, but we were outnumbered. He grabbed you and we took off. There were too many of them swarming us for it to be a decent fight, especially because you were knocked out.”

The warm cloth was pressed against your gash, and you flinched from the sudden contact as he tended to you.

Who would have thought? Not you.

“I thought the Matthew Murdock never backed down from a fight?” you asked curiously, knowing it would twinge a nerve or two. But it didn’t. He just shrugged, setting the cloth back down next to the others.

“I do when someone who is on my side is hurt.” he stated, voice seeming to be filled with an emotion you couldn't quite decide on. It was a factual statement, and you were honestly shocked he wasn't more upset with you.

You were silent as he stood, bed creaking slightly from the removal of his extra weight, his arms hanging limp at his sides. It was then you could get a good look at him, though the lighting was dim in his apartment.

His knuckles were slightly smeared with dried blood, some slashes dotted across his forearms that seemed fresh.

But he was unbothered.

He had put on the mask you had put on so many times before, becoming a soldier. Becoming guarded.

“It’s not as bad as it looks.” he noted, sensing your gaze on the marks that dotted across his exposed skin. All you could do was clear your throat as you peeled your eyes from him, desperate to think of anything else but running your fingers across his skin.

You focused on the red numbers from the analog that stared at you, seeing it was an odd hour in the early morning. The heavy rain pattered against the windows, the comforting sound reminding you of nights at your mother's, listening to the rain hit the tin.

Her soft perfume would wrap you in an embrace as she’d lie with you, book in hand as you’d drift off to sleep. The sound always brought you back to a place of serenity, even in the toughest of times. You urged to find yourself back to the memories of her, but were interrupted by the sound of the door slamming, and the squealing of wet boots.

“He returns triumphant.” Peter called from the entrance, a plastic bag dropping to the ground with the water that dripped from his coat as he shrugged it off.

You groaned, forcing yourself to swing your legs over the bed, the hardwood cold against your feet. Pushing up, you wobbled slightly as you rose to your full height- feeling like a fawn on its new legs.

“Did Claire cause a fuss?” Matt asked, flicking on a light from around the corner. You heard water run from a faucet as Peter shook out his dripping hair, running his fingers through it before carrying the bag over to him.

“No, no she seemed fine with it. Kinda rushy but-” His attention slid over to you, concern across his features.

“Hey, hey you're supposed to be in bed.”

“I don't like you.” you murmured, trying to shoo him away as he walked towards you.

“I don't care. You’re supposed to be resting.” he sighed, rolling his eyes as you protested. Peter's hands were warm, despite being outside in the crisp, chilled New York air as they picked you up gently.

He treated you as if you were a piece of fine china when he walked, moving ever so slowly to avoid jutting you around more than necessary. It was odd, considering you both had given each other the side eye more times than you could count.

You weren't used to the attention. You weren't sure if you liked it or not, it was too unfamiliar and new. But you accepted it, tucking your head to your chin as you clutched his sweater tighter, the clenching of your fists bringing you relief.

He carried you to the bathroom, the brighter lighting making you squint as he entered. Matt stood at the vanity, the bag of goods Peter had picked up scattered out on the counter. You gulped at the sight of the medical tools, the needle and thread making your skin crawl.

“I think I’m fine.” you said, anxiously clearing your throat as Peter set you down beside the sink. Matt resumed his doings, gathering the thread as if this were an everyday occurrence for him.

It very well could be, you realized.

“Seriously, I’m okay-”

“Hold her still.” Matt insisted to Peter as you made a move to slide off the counter. Panic swarmed you like flies, maggots chewing away at your lungs as you found it harder and harder to breathe.

It wasn't because of the boys, far from that. They had taken quite good care of you, despite the circumstances. It was the needle, the damn needle that made your stomach turn in on itself.

The idea of something sewing through layers of your skin did not sit right with you. You wanted to turn to the invisible camera,  break the fourth wall during this shit.

“Can you believe this shit? I can help take down Fisk, but I’m scared of a small needle? (and commitment sometimes)”  

“Breathe.” Matt commanded sternly as his hand gripped your thigh, sensing your bubbling fear. You shook your head frantically, your stomach starting to clench.

A gentle touch to your other thigh startled you, and you looked over in alarm as Peter's fingers brushed your skin, his eyes seeming to bleed raw with empathy. He seemed genuinely concerned for you, and you welcomed his touches with open arms as you started to shake and buzz with nerves.

“Kitty, it’s okay. I promise you, he knows what he’s doing.”

”I used to stitch up my dad after his fights when I was a kid. I’ve been doing it my whole life.” Matt replied softly. “It’s not that it’s just… it grosses me out. The needle- I mean.”

Matt tilted his head slightly, a small little smile on his face. The one you had seen so much when you were around him in the short period of time, the one he did when he was teasing you.

You wanted to rub it off his face, smear it like chocolate into his skin with the palm of your hand.

“You’re a brave lil thing. You’ll be okay.” You closed your eyes, doing anything to dissociate, anything to convince your mind you were in a better place. Knuckles clenched around the counters edge, nails scratching the sharp surface as you keened.

“I’ll be gentle.” he murmured in your ear, close enough so that you could breathe in his scent, could feel the heat that pulsed off him in a sinusoidal wave. 

He was far, yet so close in your mind, sight like tunnel vision as you tried not to be consumed by him. But it was impossible. The soft gentle squeeze on your thigh took away from Matt's actions, and you exhaled softly, steadily.

In for four. Hold for four. Out for four. In for four. Hold for-

“Which one of them did this to you?” Peter asked you benevolently, finger strumming a steady rhythm. You were scared for him to stop.

Suddenly, you didn't want to be left alone anymore. It was strange how the human body could react like this, how it could change and fluctuate depending on each situation was thrown at it. It wasn't equipped to handle them alone. It was a machine, but was unusable, nor was it well-oiled if someone wasn't there to support it.

In some cases, that was the last person you'd ever expect in your life to keep its maintenance.

“I’m not sure. He had a scar, right across his cheek. That’s all I could see of him, before the others came.”

Silence. Then another beat.

“We’ll kill them all.” was all he said, eyes slipping up to admire Matt's handiwork. Matt nodded, humming to himself softly as he patched you up with ease. Your eyes threatened to bulge out of their head at their comments, shocked that they could talk about this so… so lightly.

And for you? They would kill for you, someone they could barely stand to work with. It rubbed you the wrong way.

There was more to this than you realized.

“I thought the two of you didnt kill?” you asked hesitantly, gritting your teeth so hard they hurt as you felt Matt tug on the final stitch.

The two of them just shrugged. You didn't like how much they shrugged.

“We don't really.”

Then this was personal. This was about Fisk. You needed- no ached for more answers for the more questions that brewed in your mind,

Why Fisk? Why bring you into this? They most likely weren't planning on killing them because of you. You seemed too insignificant. There was a larger cause behind this, if it was driving them to killing instincts.

“So why?” You couldn't help but speak your current interest, too many questions churning deep inside the labyrinths of your mind.

“Done.” Matt sighed, ignoring your questions. A chill spread through your thigh as you felt Peter's hand slip from the surface of your skin, slightly scarred but smoothen after healing.

It felt like a shock, his hand retracting as if he was zapped from you. As if the trance was broken, and things were back to normal. Where you hated him, and he hated you, and neither of you could look at each other for more than two minutes without making faces like children.

His footsteps were silent, cat-like as he removed himself from the tension sharp enough you could cut it with a knife- as he should.

You’d go, or he would.

You slipped from the counter, watching as Matt started to put his supplies in random drawers, although they weren't random to him. He opened each one swiftly, knowing exactly where to put each item where.

You stood still, hoping he’d provide you with the answer you desired. You didn't want to leave this apartment without one.

But he ignored you, acting as if you weren't there. A childlike tendency was brewing inside you, and you fought the urge to not stop your foot against the cool tile and huff.

“Matt?”

“Yeah?”

Why won't you tell me anything? Why am I being left in the dark? Why, just why can't you tell me anything? But you didn't want to push anything.

It was too soon. You had a feeling deep down, small but visible, that’d they'd tell you at some point. Patience was key. It was key in that cleaning closet, and it was key now. It had overtaken so many parts of your life- being patient. It was difficult to master, but it was essential for independence.

“Thank you. For stitching me up, and taking care of me. I appreciate it.” you nodded, not waiting for a reply before you stepped out of the bathroom, heart heavy in your hands.

It had weighed on you- how exhausted you were. It was a lot for your body to handle, in such a short period of time. It was hard for you to admit it to yourself, but you registered the fact you hadn't done something as extreme as this.

Of course you had taken down organizations before, small little street gangs and such that caused disturbances to your true targets.

But this? Fisk? It was a lot. And you had a very strong feeling it wouldn't be ending soon.

The sound of a glass shifting across the table made you jump, the scraping of the glass against the mahogany an uncomfortable pause in the everlasting silence.

Peter’s hand closed around the cup, adams apple bobbing as he chugged the water back.

“You gonna sleep in just that?” he asked, eyebrow raised with a sly grin on his face. You looked down, the oversized tank top hanging down just past your knees.

You presumed it was one of Matt’s considering how large it was on you- and the fact all you had on you at the time was your suit.

They had seen you mostly naked. Oh my god.

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment as you looked back up at him, determined not to let the humiliation you felt win. Besides, Peter was more pretty to look at than the floor anyways.

“What else am I supposed to wear? You gonna be a pervert?” His hands flew up in mock defense, eyes widening.

“No, no I’m a gentleman. Just worried you’ll be cold, that's all.”

“These floors better be heated then.” you shrugged, snagging a warm fuzzy blanket off the arm of the couch.

“No ones sleeping on the floor. I’m on the couch, you're with Parker in the bed.” Matt chipped out, emerging from the bathroom at last. It was as if he was your conversation- not wanting to interrupt in case someone said something snarky and he’d drop the popcorn.

It took you a second to understand what he said fully, feeling incompetent.

“The bed?”

“The bed.” You shook your head hectically, the room blurring.

“I can sleep on the floor.”

“I know you can.” he replied, hand touching the lower area of your back as he passed you, making you shiver.

“But it’d be much better if you slept in the bed with your injuries. And besides, what guest sleeps on the floor?” he asked coyly, fluffing up the couch pillows.

Peter’s smile was mischievous as ever, a glimmer in his eye as he took you in.

“C'mon kitty. I don't bite. Promise.” You refused to trust a promise from Parker. But you felt your feet begin to automatically walk over to the comfort of the bed, with its warm sheets that smelt of lavender.

Today was bundles of nightmares all smashed into each other, toppling over one another to cram themselves into the twenty-four hours.

What would sleeping next to Parker do to add to that? 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ He added a lot.

Though it wasn't nightmares- the opposite in fact, it was more trouble to your own morals than you thought was possible.

You woke just as the sun rose, only managing to muster a few hours of shut eye despite the events before. Though your injuries were numbed from pain meds, it was spent tossing and turning between the sheets, trapped in the labyrinth of your own mind.

You were internally angry at yourself, mad at the attraction you felt towards the two men. It had only been a few weeks, and anytime their eyes lingered on you for too long you felt your panties start to dampen.

You wondered if they could tell.

The idea that they could excited you even more.

This wasn't supposed to happen, this little rendezvous of sexual tension between the three of you. You were the villain, they were the heroes. The villain wasn't supposed to clash with the hero in that way- it was off-script.

Yet you felt frozen in place as the birds chirped, Peter's warm body so close to yours you felt the hardening bulge in his pj pants- his large arm draped over your body.

Everyone was still asleep as far as you knew, but you wouldn't be surprised if Matt was awake. He was as quiet as a mouse, most likely listening to your quickening heartbeat as Peter's arm brushed against your hardened nipples, and you opened your legs slightly.

You swallowed, too afraid to make a sound.

“Mmm here kitty, kitty.” he whispered, voice husky and laced with sleep against your scalp.

Your eyes widened.

Was he dreaming about you?

Shifting, you brushed the curve of your ass against his bulge, making him groan. There was no harm in a little fun- was there? It’s not like you were in love with them or anything.

Who said you couldn't mess around for a bit- act on that sexual tension?

You heard his breath catch in his throat, eyes opening slowly to feel you pressed up against him.

“Were you dreaming of me?” you asked innocently, starting to slowly tease him, his fingers brushing circles against your hardened nipples.

“I like when you do that, ya know. They're so sensitive.”

“You minx. You're being a tease.” he growled softly, pinching your nipple harshly as you softly yelped.

“Don’t you like it when I’m a tease though bug boy? It just means you’ll have to train me real good.” you smiled, turning back to give him puppy dog eyes, resulting him practically dry-humping you.

You knew Matt could smell your sweet arousal, and you wondered how long he would hold off before yelling at the two of you to stop fucking around on his bed.

“I thought you hated me?”

“I do. But you feel so good.” you sighed, coy smile blooming as he shimmed lower, teeth sinking deep into your neck as he slid his hand down to part your legs even further.

“Such a fucking whore. Just some cock will shut you up- won’t it?”

You nodded frantically, the hiss that slipped from his lips sounding like music to your ears as he felt how wet you were through the flimsy fabric.

“Please. Please I’ll be so good I promise-” you begged, squirming with anticipation as he chuckled lowly.

“Oh so now she switches up hmm? Silly girl.” he cooed, slipping your thong to the side. You couldn't believe this was really happening. It made your head spin, made your limbs tingly at the thought alone how wrong this was.

Wasting no time, he tugged down his boxers, slowly teasing you as he slid the tip along your wet folds. You knew he was doing it just to spite you, and you were insistent on not giving him the satisfaction.

Biting your lip, you shivered as he toyed with you- a cat playing with its dinner.

“Oh so no back talk now? Good.” he growled, sliding it in to the hilt, making you slap your hands over your mouth with a means to silence the moans that threatened to escape.

Though there was no point, Matt heard every little breath and whimper you protruded, cock hard and heavy in his hands as he stoked it like some pervert.

Peter stuffed you to the brim, brushing your g-spot as he tossed his head back in pleasure.

“F-fuck-” you whimpered, almost unable to speak with how sudden the stretch was. It sent fire coursing through your veins, an adrenaline rush bringing you back to when you were in his arms on the rooftop.

“Fuck is right, Jesus Christ you feel so good. So fuckin tight.” he moaned, slowly sliding out of you, feeling your juices coat the base of his cock as he thrust into you hard enough to send your body jolting before he steadied you.

A new body had entered the room, his presence searing and as hot as embers. Little moans escaped your mouth as you stared at Matt, mouth agape, eyes wide as Peter hammered into you.

“In my bed? Really?” he smirked, and you followed his happy trail down to where his large, veiny hand palmed himself as he heard your heartbeat skip a beat.

“Well someone’s happy to see me. Hmm kitty?”

You moaned, hiccuping on your spit and drool as Peter’s thrusts became more erratic. By the way he was handling you, you knew he didn’t care how quickly you came.

He was using you as a toy, a means to get off. That turned you on even more.

“You’ll get your turn with her after Matty. We talked about this.” he mused, watching your breasts bounce from his harsh manhandling.

“Oh, I know. It’s only fair, isn't it kitty?”

“Y-yeah.” you choked out, Matt’s fingers reaching out to wipe the drool that had dribbled from your lips, swirling his tongue around the coated digit and releasing it with a pop.

“She’s already going dumb. Like a bitch in heat.” Peter smiled, him and Matt holding you steady as your body instinctively attempted to wiggle away from the intense waves of overstimulation, his moans ringing out throughout the room as he came in you with a grunt.

“She just needs to be bred.” Matt smiled, tugging off his boxers and your eyes nearly rolled at the sight.

This was addicting. The way they were making you feel, the way they spoke to you as if you were just a toy for their pleasure. But that's what you liked. Which made it so you knew it would be even harder to avoid this scenario again. It was like a drug.

His hand gripped your chin, forcing your gaze on his as Peter slid out of you, cum oozing out all over your puffy, swollen cunt as you whined from the abrupt emptiness.

“Shhh. You’re fine.”

Your body was limp as Matt took over, flipping you on your stomach, knees bent with your ass in the air. Kisses trailed down your spine, thin tanktop slung somewhere in the room.

You didn’t know. You didn't care.

All you cared about was the way he handled you, so gentle compared to Peter. But you knew he’d get rough soon.

“S’too much-” you mumbled sleepy against the sheets, feeling spent.

“She's spent. Fuckin whore is cockdrunk.” Peter smirked, shrugging on a t-shirt as he watched the scene unfold in front of him.

It felt dirtier with him watching in a way, knowing his eyes would linger on you in your most vulnerable state.

“But she had so much backtalk with us these past few weeks. What happened to that now angel?” Matt asked mockingly as he slid back in you, stuffing Peter's cum back into your abused hole again.

“Mhm-” you moaned, fisting the sheets as he entered you. He was more patient than Peter, slowly filling you instead of slamming to the hilt- but the stretch was just as delicious.

“M’so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” you mindlessly babbled- for what you didn't know. You just wanted to be good, to make them happy, and to please them. If that meant shattering your ego, then so be it.

“Silly girl.” Matt provoked, gripping your hips hard enough to bruise as he started to use you as he saw fit. You sunk your head deeper into the pillows, tears starting to stream down your cheeks from the sensitivity.

“M’gonna cum-” you hiccupped cautiously, seeing as Matt’s pace was not stopping for anything, or anyone.

“Yeah? Go ahead baby. I’ll let you, since Parker was being so cruel.”

“She was being a tease. She had to learn a lesson.” Peter mused, teeth digging into his lower lip as he watched where you and Matt connected, knowing his cum was being shoved further into you.

“But she’s such a sweet girl. Deep down, you just wanna please us, don’t you baby? Your little demeanor doesn't fool us.”

You felt your brain go fuzzy, his voice sounding distant as you came around his cock with a high pitched whine.

“Atta girl kitty.” Peter called, creaming Matt’s cock as he stilled, filling you up just the same. His grunts were like music to your ears, following you as you came down from the little cloud you were perched on.

“So good baby. Just stay put, yeah?” Matt murmured, and you didn’t even have the strength to nod as he slowly inched his way out of you, both of their cum now slowly spilling out of you as your legs twitched and quivered.

You couldn't move even if you wanted to. Your body felt like jello, and you felt your lower half slowly slide down onto the bed as you whimpered.

“Hurts s’bad.” you groaned, Peter's hand finding its way to stroke your cheek bringing you some form of comfort as you heard Matt start to run the tap, warm water spewing out onto a clean washcloth.

“I know kitty. But you did so good for us. It’s okay, just go back to sleep yeah?”

You nodded, eyes starting to droop as you clung to consciousness.

“I fucked her better you know.” Peter called, making Matt scoff as he returned with the damp fabric in hand.

“Yeah right. Older men just do it better Parker.” he shrugged, and you almost wanted to deride them. They were bickering like children and if you were in the position to bicker back- you would.

The feeling of the cloth against you made you jolt, and Peter reached out to steady you, rubbing small soothing circles on your back as Matt cleaned you.

It was strange and unfamiliar, the kindness and soothing physical contact the men were showing you. You bathed in it, scared it would all slip away like sand when the after-orgasm haze wore off.

“I’m sure Murdock. But who got to have her first?”

“Because she was sleeping right next to you! In my bed, may I add.”

You rolled your eyes, their endless arguing lingering over to the kitchen as you clung to the warm blankets that smelt of them.

It was going to be a long day indeed.

[terramythos]

I wrote a little fucked up short story today for my daily writing exercise and I like it enough to post it ^_^ let me know what you think

America's Darling

Darling is an all-American dog, everybody knows that. Our Glorious President, may He live in eternal glory, says the golden retriever is the “ultimate example of American excellence”. Nothing like those modern dog breeds, the ones we don’t talk about anymore. It’s sad they all had to go the way they did, but what is breeding if not the triumph of the pure? There’s no place here for anything un-American, dog or not. America is golden, a shining beacon the rest of the world can only dream of becoming. White picket fences, Saturday sunset barbecues, and the Lord, golden hair shining, smiling down upon us from on high. It makes sense that the best dog of them all would be just as golden and just as smiling. America’s Darling.

Things used to be so much worse. People thought too much and all it did was make people sad. Not like it is today. When’s the last time you saw someone with a frown? Sorry, Tom, sorry — I know we’re not supposed to say the "F-word" anymore, but the Lord will forgive me if it’s a warning. Misfortune only falls upon those who deserve it, and let’s face it, it all comes down to breeding. It’s no surprise that a dog with beautiful blond hair succeeds where all other dogs have failed. He’s just like you and me and our whole family.

But sometimes breeding isn’t enough. There are kids almost like you who are born wrong — born frowning and crying all the time, born with sick bodies, born just a shade too dark, born liking the wrong kinds of people. It’s sad they have to go the way they do, but someone has to clean the sanitation machines when they get clogged. But you don’t have to worry about that. You were born normal and healthy and golden. So I don’t want to see you frowning, okay?

Every kid in America dreams of the chance to see Darling, such a handsome dog. When our Glorious President leaves His beautiful white house, sometimes He brings Darling with Him. And what a miracle that we get to see the all-American dog in the flesh from time to time. The television doesn’t do him justice; there’s something about seeing his lolling tongue and lopsided smile in person that changes you. I was twelve when I got to see Darling, his tail wagging in the spotlight, prancing on the President’s Parade float. Quite the cheer from all the kids, though of course we were drowned out by the adults cheering our glorious Commander-in-Chief.

Now now, Tom, you know better than to ask that question! Of course we can’t have a Darling of our own. There are so few dogs since we got rid of the bad ones. Only really important people can have a dog now, and that’s the way it should be. Besides, would you really want a golden retriever of your own when it couldn’t possibly measure up to Darling? He’s been America’s sweetheart for almost 70 years now. And boy, he hasn’t aged a day in all that time. Darling truly is the all-American dog. Eternal and beautiful, just like us.

I know how you kids whisper and make up stories. I was the same when I was your age! A little mischief is healthy here and there. Back when I was in the schoolyard our favorite story was about Darling. One of my friends— what was her name— Betty? Well, Betty was convinced that Darling was a bunch of different dogs. She said there was some machine that gave us an identical Darling every 3 years, and that’s why he never seems to age. We’d tease her and ask where the old Darlings go. And she said they went away forever, just like the other dogs! I know, it’s a ridiculous story, verging on blasphemy, but it’s a little funny to think about. I imagined dozens of all-American Darlings lined up on a conveyor belt, headed to Lord-knows-where. I haven’t seen Betty in so long, but I can remember her silly story. Whatever happened to her?

I’m rambling again, Tom, sorry. No need to tell anyone about that, though. It’ll be our little secret. Maybe if you’re good and finish all your homework, we can walk to the ice cream dispenser and have a little treat. It’s so hot out today, we’ll have to wait until the sun goes down. I can’t remember the last time we could go out in the sun for something as silly as ice cream. You almost feel bad for the workers out there keeping the machine running. But someone has to do it!

When we get home, let’s turn on the TV and see if we can catch a glimpse of Darling. Wouldn’t that be nice?

[thatacotargirl]

Flower of the Dawn Court

Please enjoy this little oneshot 🌼🌸

Summary: It is Thesan's wedding day and all of Prythian seems to have been invited. His daughter's, y/n and Dalia, have played wedding planners ahead of their father's big day; but nothing ever goes to plan when the 7 High Lords come together.

This oneshot is set at the beginning of A Court of Mist and Fury.

Reader's POV

It was a beautiful, warm morning in Dawn Court. The sun had slowly started to rise over the horizon, the birds were singing their love songs quietly, the tune carried by the breeze. You were stood on the balcony of your bedroom, a coffee in hand, enjoying the peacefulness of nature before the day fully erupted.

Today was your father's wedding day. After his experiences under the mountain, he hadn't waited a single second before letting the Captain know his true feelings and the pair agreed to marry as soon as feasibly possible. The wedding was the first to take place since Amarantha was slain and it felt like all of Prythian had been invited to Dawn, including the remaining 6 High Lords.

A door opens to my left and I turn to see Dalia, my sister, appear with a steaming cup of coffee to join me. Dalia and I were adopted by Thesan as babies when we were left on his doorstep. Dalia arrived a few months before I did, but Thesan treated us like we were his own flesh and blood; raising us in Dawn amongst the greats. Rumour had it that Dalia was even next in line to inherit the title of High Lady of Dawn, despite not being a blood relation. I grin at my sister as she reaches out an arm to embrace me.

"I can't believe the day is finally here", she says, pulling me closer into her side.

"He deserves this, every bit of happiness the world can offer him and more". Dalia nods her head in agreement as we gaze out over the gardens, watching the staff begin to set up the arch and the seats for the ceremony.

Turning the my wardrobe, I pull out the dress that was custom made for today. A beautiful shade of deep crimson with golds heels and jewellery to match. Dalia was to wear similar, only hers was a deep shade of blood orange. We looked magnificent.

"Time to get ready", I grin to my sister, as she rushes forward to pull her dress from the hanger.

Several hours later and both Dalia and I were dressed and ready, our hair and make-up perfect. We watched with tears in our eyes as Thesan and the Captain shared their first moment of seeing each other dressed for their wedding, and took more photos than there were stars in the sky as our newfound family of 4. We could hear the hustle and bustle of guests arriving and taking their seats, and soon the bell called to let us know it was time for the ceremony to begin.

"I love you girls with all my heart", my father said, pulling Dalia and I in for a hug. When we finally let him go, he walked to the entranceway and began his walk up the aisle.

Dalia and I were next. Our heritage remained unknown, with neither of us caring too much to know more about the family that had abandoned us, but it was clear from which court's we heralded. Dalia was without a doubt a descendant of the Day Court, her power to wield sunbeams could rival even the most talented magic in her native lands. I, however, was born of Spring; and beheld the power to command flowers. Dalia used to tease me that I had the 'flower power' when we were children, especially when our father was teaching us how to manage our powers and I accidentally caused flowers to bloom from every wall, floor, and ceiling of the Dawn Court palace. One time I even bloomed a flower from the top of my head and couldn't quite grasp my magic enough to make it vanish - leaving me with a real-life flower crown for several days. Thankfully, Dalia and I had mastered our powers eventually, and could put them to good use today.

Arms linked, we walked down the aisle, smiling around to our many guests. Dalia commanded the sunlight to shine down and spotlight our father, with wisps of sunbeams dancing around the garden to the tune of the choir. With soft gestures of my arms, I yielded flowers from my fingertips, allowing them to fall from the sky amongst the seats and along the aisle. As we rounded off to the alter, kissing our father's cheeks as we went, we watched as the Captain appeared at the entrance of the walkway.

The ceremony was nothing short of jaw-droppingly beautiful, and the crowd roared with delight as our father and the Captain were pronounced married. The 4 of us embraced at the altar and we walked hand in hand back down the aisle towards the evening celebrations.

On arrival at the reception, with a glass of champagne in hand, Dalia and I made our way around the guests to welcome them to Dawn. The High Lords had all agreed to attend and many were staying in rooms at the palace tonight, allowing them to indulge in the festivities to their heart's content. Only Kallias of Winter and Beron of Autumn were leaving tonight; Kallias to return home with his heavily pregnant wife, and Beron because - well - he's Beron.

A brief disagreement caught our attention as we turned in the direction of the Night Court table. Rhysand and his Inner Circle were all present for the wedding, as was Rhysand's plus one - Feyre Cursebreaker. It was made public soon after what happened under the mountain that Rhysand and Feyre had made a bargain that she stay at the Night Court for a week per month, and it looked like Rhysand had decided to take that week now, stealing Feyre as his guest to the wedding so that Tamlin wasn't able to. Dalia chuckled, clearly enjoying the drama of it all. Honestly, Prythian was slowly turning into a real-life drama production these days.

We approached their table to greet them, bowing to Rhysand and offering our hand to the Inner Circle members.

"Thank you for attending the wedding, High Lord", Dalia offered, her head still bowed as she addressed Rhysand.

"It was our pleasure, Dalia, thank you for inviting us. The ceremony was wonderful", he replied.

As you made your way around the table, greeting each member, you reached out a hand to greet Feyre. Although she sat with a frown on her face, her body caved inwards and away from Rhysand, she offered out her hand to shake yours.

"Thank you for coming, Feyre", you offered gently. You felt her hand untense in yours as you addressed her personally, and she relaxed her posture slightly.

"It was a beautiful day. Your's and your sister's powers are really something else, I know my sister Elain would love to be able to create flowers at her whim".

You smile as you withdraw your hand and Feyre looks up to meet your eyes. You see her's widen and she quietly gasps. Not quietly enough, however, to evade the notice of everyone sat at the table, who turn to look at you with confusion.

"Is everything ok, Feyre?" you ask with concern, taking a step backwards in case you startled her.

"I'd know those eyes anywhere".

You look at her your face laced with confusion, as you turn to look at Dalia for assistance. She offers you a shrug as you both turn to Rhysand, hoping for an explanation. He, too, however, looks completely at a loss.

"Feyre?", he asks, reaching out a hand to touch her shoulder. The entire table is silent, waiting for Feyre to respond, but her eyes remain frozen on yours.

"Feyre?", you try, crouching down to be in front of her seat.

"I'd know those eyes anywhere", she repeats. "I fell in love with them".

The entire table exchanges confused glances, now becoming concerned that Feyre is speaking in tongues and not making any sense. You stand and turn to Rhysand, about to offer to get Thesan in case Feyre needed a healer, when Amren, Rhysand's second in command, also gasps.

"By the Cauldron", is all she could get out, looking past your shoulder to the crowd behind you.

You turn, trying to find the source of Amren's shock, only to lock eyes with a pair of matching emerald ones that were staring back at you, widened in surprise. Eyes that mirrored yours in every way. Eyes that could belong to no one other than your biological father.

The High Lord of Spring.

[franki-lew-yo]

ALL my feelings towards Friendship is Magic could be so easily summed up as:

" -Twilight Sparkle should never have become an alicorn princess in season 3 of a series with 9 seasons - ''

She should have always had it in the books to eventually become an alicorn, but her becoming one in season 3 is where literally all (my own) problems with the show stem from and almost all of those problems are about the show in execution, NOT in theory. 

Everything about later seasons Friendship is Magic’s writing reeks of the writers trying to make their ideas, fan ideas, and Hasbro’s ideas work all at the same time with so little time. They were told to make Equestria Girls, Princess Twilight, Flurry Heart and the movie “work” while also juggling writing in Starlight and her whole arc (and the characters attached, like Sunburst), the CMC getting their cutie marks, the reformed changelings, griffons and dragons, their Starswirl the Bearded stuff; WHILE ALSO making sure Discord and the Princesses (mostly Luna) and the ‘fan fav’ characters worked on their own and come together.

In my opinion, it just didn’t.

There was always too much going on with little to no time to breathe or appreciate the characters -how far they’ve come, how much further they have to go- at all. And it made later bit of lore and characters feel frustrating. It made potentially great characters deeply unlikable. Starlight and Discord are the biggest victims.

I want to like them. I really do. I can’t though because Starlight is not only a ‘madeawittlemistake’(aka ran a cult)-villain redemption, BUT she has to share her stories with the main six. They underdeveloped her while also trying to make her important and it just made me dislike Starlight and Twilight so much. It made me get mad at Starlight for being in the way of a Twilight episode, it made me wanna scream at Twilight for getting in the way of what should be Starlight’s time to shine!

Discord now had to share his ‘redeemed baddie’ spotlight with Starlight and others meant he had no time for his development which, when it was done* (ALL of Season 4) was abysmally fast, badly paced and in my view insulting. It made Discord, even in episodes where he had a point to be there, feel useless because fundamentally was overall. Season 4 assassinated Discord’s character to me and I didn’t remotely like him. For years I thought I just didn’t like FiM simply because the show and the fandom clearly preferred Fluttercord to Dislestia and I was just butthurt. Which, to be clear, I am. My mega revelation regarding this show was realizing that, no- what I hated wasn’t Fluttercord, it was Discord himself. How he was being handled, how he was written from s4 onward (ALL THE EPISODES WHERE HE’S YANDRE TO FLUTTERSHY SHOULD HAVE BEEN BEFORE HIS BETRAYAL. ALL OF THEM. NO YOU WILL NOT CHANGE MY MIND IT’S FINAL) pissed me off so much as a person who really loved his potential character in season 2 and 3. Discord and Fluttershy being besties and possibly more could and should have been adorable...but it wasn't because the Discord we got was a horrid character. Fluttershy deserves better.

I know you guys don’t wanna hear this same old worn-out critique about FiM, but I’m sorry I have to agree: when they weren’t being crowbarred into stuff that didn’t need their stories, Starlight and Discord were both forgiven -by the show- WAAY too soon. The problem wasn’t that they had redemption arcs and/or that other characters didn’t. The problem was their redemptions were badly done. The show didn’t treat them like they had been redeemed from something hurtful, it acted like they had never done anything wrong. And that was bad because it made it so, when the three baddies at the end of the series were officially crowned "irredeemable", the show felt biased. It felt mean spirited towards Tirek, Chrysalis and Cozy when their end should have actually felt fitting and funny. It’s not about ‘morals’ or ‘punishing’ fictional cartoon horses voiced by John DeLancie for warcrimes or whatever tf Lily Orchard goes on about-- it’s about how the show FELT LIKE IT FAVORED some characters more than others. That was a thing that I loved Friendship is Magic for not doing in seasons 1-3, what made it and it’s character’s endearing and wholesome to me, and it’s why the handling of the main cast in later seasons felt so mean.

But to get back to the alicorn in the room; Twilight could have graduated or something for season 3 and then the whole show could build up to her actually outdoing Starswirl’s wrongs as she does in the pony of shadows plot. THAT could have been her ‘upgraded to alicorn princess moment’; but it didn’t. As much as I wish it were that way, it isn’t and that’s not what the writer’s did because they didn’t have the time or foresight for that. Sadly, even though lots of flaws and problems were always baked into the loaf from the start (Celestia being useless or 'sinister', ponies being racist towards everything else, bad and/or basic friendship lessons) Twilight becoming an alicorn princess, which DID ultimately change her character, her role and her presence even amongst her friends and the rest of Ponyville, was the start of all the problems.

We’re stuck with what we got and what we got was a series that -to me- only ever kept adding more and MORE until it felt overstuffed, hectic, and unfortunately mean spirited when it wasn’t trying to be. There’s nothing we can do now. Personally, I highkey am annoyed at other adult bronies saying I “didn’t get” the show and its decisions which is why I didn’t like it. No. Trust me I get “it”; the problem is that “it” wasn’t well done which is why I didn’t like “it”. “It” deserved better.

Of course, I also get some of why those bronies are so defensive. After all I was there when the whole 'Twilight becoming a Princess'-controversy happened. I remember how ugly it got and how annoying and entitled you guys were about it and Equestria Girls' existence (don't even get me started on ur #savederpy).

Something I want to make especially clear whenever I criticize writers, especially of kids shows, is that a criticism IS NOT an attack. Ever. Boycotts and callouts should be reserved for stuff that's actually morally wrong and yes they also count for stuff I like, not just stuff I want to be mad at. Lookin at you, Didney.

There was never and still is never a reason to bother, hurt or ask the writers for MLP gen 4 why they did what they did. No, not even if you're being 'friendly' about it. Leave M.A. Larson alone.

Granted, fans being entitled to creator's attention and creator's being entitled to fans' affection is it's own rabbit hole, but I truly think that FiM set an ugly standard for that with animated shows today.

Besides still being too thin skinned and not liking that a thing they've divested so much real life time into could be bad, a thing about cartoon commentary and criticism in the 2010s-2020s is they're really parasocial and demanding of writers and artists behind a show. The was always the biggest, ugliest, most uncomfortable aspect of Friendship is Magic to me: because it's creators were online and fans knew they were listening, could approve of fan's creations, and especially because they felt 'responsible' for a show's success, they were really into @ing writers about everything. When critics would call something out for being badly written it somehow always made it's way into becoming a personal accusatory thing. People were blaming writers for being human and working within time constraints and network decisions. You didn't have to be like that TinyToons guy who stalked Tress MacNeille about sexualizing Fifi in the 90s to be a harasser. You could just be an aggressively oversupporting 'stan' or angry nitpicking critic to make a writer who's just doing their job, uncomfortable

tl;dr: I disliked the writing of the later Friendship is Magic. I think it was bad because it was bad. None of that is meant as an attack on the writers who were trying their best and don't need to be roped into any fandom nonsense, positive or negative, and never should have been in the first place.

Hopefully, that's one deadhorse finally beaten.

[livdomtruther]

FRAGMENTS OF US.

It had been almost a year since Liv and Dominik began their fragile, breathless dance of love—a love that felt impossibly new, like touching sunlight after a lifetime in shadow. To Liv, their love was effortless, but for Dominik, it was everything he hadn’t dared to believe he could have. She had woven her way into his life with quiet patience, her presence something warm, soft, something he had longed for but didn’t think he deserved.

Dominik still felt the weight of scars left by his last relationship, a storm that had ravaged him in ways that still bled, wounds he’d convinced himself would never heal. That relationship had been a series of emotional landmines, each step a shattering test of trust, leaving him bruised and hollowed, haunted by the twisted echoes of words meant to comfort but used as knives. There were days when he couldn’t escape the poison of those memories, when he could still feel the suffocating grip around his heart, a vice he thought he’d never free himself from.

But then, there was Liv. She walked into his life as if she belonged there, bringing with her a calmness that seeped into the spaces he had abandoned long ago. She didn’t demand him to be healed, didn’t ask him to forget his scars; instead, she ran her fingers over the wounds, her touch a promise that his brokenness didn’t make him unworthy. With her, love was tender and real, every moment something he wanted to hold onto but feared he might break.

Every time she laughed, it felt like she was stitching him back together, bit by fragile bit. With Liv, he was no longer the fractured, burdened man he’d been. She gave him the strength to believe that maybe he wasn’t destined to bleed forever, that maybe—just maybe—he could let himself be loved without looking over his shoulder for the pain he’d come to expect.

Their meeting felt ripped from a scene they’d both watched countless times on lonely nights, wondering if moments like these ever really happened. Liv was weaving through the crowds, lost in her own world, her headphones plugged in, blocking out the noise of the bustling city around her. Dominik, on the other hand, was darting through the crowd with his mind already at work, his eyes scanning the street for the time, for the next step, always rushing.

Then, without warning, they collided.

Their bags hit the ground, and Liv’s headphones fell to the pavement in a tangled mess. They both froze, mumbling a string of half-formed apologies, each word stumbling over the other’s. But the moment their eyes met, apologies dissolved into awkward, breathless laughter—laughter that filled the space between them and seemed to hush the city noise for a heartbeat.

Dominik knelt to help her, fumbling as he gathered her headphones and bag, handing them back with a shy, crooked smile. And he couldn’t stop staring. Her eyes, a shade of blue he’d never quite seen before, drew him in like the pull of a tide. “You... you have pretty eyes,” he blurted, as though the words had a mind of their own. The color in Liv’s cheeks deepened, her lips curling up as she tried to look away. “I love your hair,” she managed, her own voice soft, almost nervous, as if she’d just shared a secret.

They stood there, grinning like fools, suspended in the warmth of that single, charged moment. But reality tugged at them both, reminding them of places to be, and reluctantly, they pulled apart, each glancing back with smiles lingering long after the other had disappeared into the crowd.

Neither of them realized they were heading to the same place, just from different directions. When Dominik arrived at work, he was still thinking of her, and the memory of her laugh kept him smiling in a way he hadn’t in a long time. But then he glanced up, and his breath caught. There, standing under the spotlight, was the pretty blonde girl who’d just swept into his life, guitar in hand, her eyes shining under the stage lights—the girl he hadn’t known he’d been looking for.

As the final note of Liv’s song drifted into silence, her eyes lifted, scanning the crowd—and then, she saw him. They locked eyes, a spark flickering between them, and it was as if the rest of the room faded away, leaving just the two of them in the warm glow of the stage lights. Dominik’s heart thundered in his chest, each beat a reminder that he was feeling something he thought he’d buried long ago.

For the past year, he’d sworn off romance, his broken heart hardened by the bitterness of betrayal. Love at first sight, he used to think, was just a cheap trick, a fairy tale he’d long outgrown. He’d scoffed at every romantic comedy, every “meant to be” storyline, unwilling to believe in a magic he’d once foolishly chased. But now, here he was, spellbound by the girl on stage, his cynicism melting away like ice under her gaze.

Liv, in contrast, had always believed. Even when she was overlooked, cast aside as an afterthought, she’d never lost faith in the magic of love. She was a hopeless romantic, the kind who believed love could be found in the smallest moments—a soft glance, a shared laugh, the quiet warmth of someone simply being there. She poured her heart into her songs, her lyrics filled with stories of love she’d never known but desperately dreamed of. To her, love was endless, infinite; she held close the belief that everyone deserved it, even if it was fleeting.

Their lives began to intertwine in ways that felt almost like fate. Liv started performing at Dominik’s work regularly, and each time she stepped into the room, his pulse quickened, and the walls he’d built began to crack. She no longer performed just for the crowd; she sang for him, and he felt it in every note. Dominik, who had once drifted through his days with numb indifference, now felt something like hope, a strange warmth blossoming whenever she was near.

And so, they fell into an unspoken rhythm—Liv pouring her heart into each performance, her gaze finding him in the crowd, while Dominik waited, heart racing, for those few precious moments when their worlds collided. He knew she was the only reason he still showed up, and she, in turn, felt the fire she sang about, igniting every time their eyes met. It was as if fate had known all along: they were bound to cross paths, to be each other's light, each other’s reason to believe.

And so, that was how their love story began—a story that felt like it was written in the stars yet grounded in the simplest, sweetest moments. Liv was the spark that reignited Dominik’s belief in love, melting away years of hurt and mistrust, and Dominik was the first person who showed Liv that she was more than someone’s second choice, more than a fleeting thought. Together, they fit like two puzzle pieces finally finding their place, their edges worn but fitting all the more beautifully because of it.

They were inseparable, often seen side by side as if bound by some invisible thread. Their laughter became a familiar melody to anyone who knew them, and they had made a home in each other’s presence. Liv had met his friends, her warmth weaving easily into the group, and Dominik had met hers, his quiet strength endearing him to those closest to her. Even their families had grown close, recognizing that something rare and real had blossomed between them. Dominik’s boss, always quick with a quip, would often say, “This bar’s got magic—it’s where love finds its way.” Dominik would roll his eyes, brushing it off with a smile, but deep down, he knew it was true.

As their one-year anniversary approached, Liv felt her heart swell with the weight of her love for him, a feeling so big it seemed to leave no room to breathe. She wanted to give him something that would show him how he had changed her life. She planned, in secret, to surprise him with a love song, a piece of her heart she’d spent months pouring onto the crumpled pages she kept hidden away. She practiced tirelessly, her voice growing stronger as she sang, every word laced with a tender ache, a reminder of how deeply she loved him. Her tears had fallen on the paper as she wrote, her emotions staining the words, and with each rehearsal, her heart ached a little more with anticipation and hope.

The song was her gift, a piece of her soul offered up in a melody. She imagined his face when he heard it, imagined the way he’d look at her as he finally understood the depth of her feelings. For her, it was the purest way to say everything her words had fallen short of, to show him that he was the one who’d taken her wounded heart and made it whole. And as the days slipped closer to their anniversary, Liv held her secret close, her heart brimming with love, her voice carrying a promise only he would understand.

It was supposed to be a simple surprise, one of the many little gestures she loved to make for Dominik. She had come early to see him, just to spend a few more precious minutes together before his shift, her excitement buzzing beneath her skin. But she’d misread his schedule, arriving hours before he was due in, and found herself alone with his friends, Finn and Damian, the regular workers at the bar who always made her feel welcome. They’d laughed off her mistake, keeping her company while they worked, and she’d slipped off to the restroom, smiling at how everything just felt right, even in these small moments.

But as she was walking back, her steps slowed, her breath catching when she heard her name in their voices, hushed but sharp. She lingered by the doorway, heart beginning to pound, as Finn’s voice rose over the clinking of glasses.

“Don’t you think Liv is a bit…” he started, his voice carrying an edge she’d never heard before.

Damian cut him off, his tone light but cruel. “Clingy? Burdensome?” he sneered, a smirk in his voice that made her chest tighten.

A nervous laugh escaped from Finn, and then they were both laughing, a sound that seemed to echo around her like a haunting. She felt herself freeze, willing it to be some kind of joke, something she’d misunderstood, but the words kept coming, each one striking her harder than the last.

“Can’t believe Dom fell for a chick like her,” Damian said, his tone dismissive, biting. There was a cruelty in his voice that felt like it was slicing through her, word by word.

Finn chuckled darkly, not even hesitating. “I don’t either. Michelle was for sure prettier… and less of a hassle, you know?”

The knot in Liv’s stomach twisted, and she felt her hands clench into fists, her nails biting into her palms as she stood there, hidden but unable to turn away. She felt as though she were peeling back the glossy surface of something beautiful only to reveal something rotted underneath, something she had never wanted to see. These were Dominik’s friends, the people who knew him best, who had accepted her with open arms—or so she’d thought.

They continued, oblivious to the way their words were tearing her apart.

“Honestly,” Damian scoffed, “her coming here all the time? You can tell it has to be a burden for him. Poor Dom, putting up with all that…”

Liv felt her heart shatter, the pieces scattering as their laughter filled the empty spaces. Everything she’d told herself—her confidence, her belief in what she and Dominik shared—now felt like a fragile illusion, breaking under the weight of their words. She wanted to turn around, to flee before they could see the tears that stung her eyes, but she couldn’t move, couldn’t even breathe.

All those moments she’d spent with Dominik, every smile, every whispered promise—they now felt tainted, tangled up in the doubt and pain that was tearing through her. Her mind spun, replaying every time she’d come to the bar just to see him, every time she’d caught him watching her with a soft look that had made her heart skip. But now she wondered if she’d been wrong all along. If, behind that gentle smile, he’d really been wishing she would just leave.

Her chest felt hollow, her heart a fragile thing on the verge of breaking, and for the first time, she wondered if she had been nothing but a burden all along.

They had no idea, no idea how every word of theirs clawed at old wounds Liv had tried so hard to bury. Each careless laugh, every cruel, dismissive remark echoed with the voices of her past, bringing them back to life with brutal clarity. She’d heard it before—too clingy, too needy, a burden to anyone who got close. That was what every guy before Dominik had told her, and she’d believed it, even as she’d tried to push those thoughts away, to convince herself that she deserved more, that she wasn’t too much.

But hearing it now, from his friends, the people who knew him best—it was as if they’d ripped the bandages off, exposing wounds she’d never really let heal. Her breath caught, becoming shallow, ragged, and all she could think was, Is that what I am to him? Am I really just a burden?

Every moment she’d spent with Dominik played back in her mind, warped and distorted. She remembered how she’d shown up early, how she’d stayed late, how she’d hung on every word he’d said. She thought of the countless times she’d come to his work, thinking she was making his day a little brighter. But now, all those memories twisted, darkening under the weight of her doubt. Maybe he’d just been tolerating her, too kind to tell her she was suffocating him, just like everyone else had.

She swallowed hard, trying to push down the thick lump in her throat, willing herself not to cry as she walked back into the bar, her hands trembling at her sides. Finn and Damian’s laughter fell silent the second they saw her, their expressions shifting to a casual, feigned innocence, but she couldn’t bring herself to meet their eyes. She forced a smile, her voice quivering despite her best efforts to keep it steady.

“Sorry, guys. I have to go. Work called me in suddenly,” she stammered, the words stumbling out of her as she tried to keep her tone polite, even gentle. “Please… tell Dom for me, thanks.”

Her words were barely out before she turned on her heel, leaving before they could see the hurt in her eyes, before her composure shattered entirely. She stumbled out into the street, feeling the weight of their words pressing down on her, suffocating her. She walked faster, then faster still, until she was running, her feet pounding against the pavement, each step a desperate attempt to escape the ache tightening around her chest. The city blurred around her, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the voices in her head, the ones telling her she was too much, that she’d ruined things all over again, that she’d never be enough.

When Dominik arrived at work that night, his face lit up as he looked around for her, his heart sinking when Finn casually told him, “Liv had to leave early—something about work calling her in.” Dominik’s smile faded, disappointment settling in his chest as he glanced toward the door, wishing he’d gotten there just a bit sooner. He had no idea she’d been there, waiting for him, only to leave with a heart weighed down by the voices of everyone who’d ever made her feel small, everyone who’d made her feel unworthy.

And miles away, Liv sat alone in her room, staring at the crumpled, tear-stained pages of the song she’d written for him, feeling every note turn to ash in her hands.

Weeks passed, and it felt like their relationship had unraveled, thread by fragile thread. Dominik was left standing in the middle of what had once felt like his whole world, only now it felt strangely empty, as though she had been the light keeping it alive. Liv had stopped coming by the bar, her laughter and presence a hollow absence that seemed to echo louder every day. He noticed the subtle changes, the way she stopped sending those chaotic, sweet messages that once had his phone buzzing at all hours, her words brimming with love and excitement. Now, there was nothing but silence—a void that grew bigger every day.

At first, he tried to tell himself it was nothing. She was busy; work was piling up. But every time he asked, her answer felt rehearsed, hollow. “I’ve gotten more shifts at my job,” she’d say, forcing a smile he’d once thought was real. “I’m sorry.” But he could see the walls she was building, the distance growing between them like a chasm he couldn’t cross, no matter how hard he tried.

She didn’t realize how deeply her withdrawal was wounding him, didn’t see the desperation in his eyes as he tried to hold onto her, hold onto the memories of who they’d been. He spent countless shifts staring at the door, his heart lifting with a fleeting hope every time someone walked in, only to fall again when it wasn’t her. Every night, he’d glance at the empty stage, hoping against hope that he’d look up and see her standing there, guitar in hand, her voice weaving magic that only she could create. But the stage stayed empty, the silence louder than any music.

Dominik missed her with a kind of ache he hadn’t known was possible, a constant, gnawing pain that left him feeling hollowed out. He missed her laugh, the way her voice softened when she looked at him, the way her eyes lit up as if he was the only person in the world who mattered. Now, he could barely recognize her. She was distant, a shadow of herself, her once-bright spirit dulled by something he couldn’t understand, something she wouldn’t let him touch. And every time she pulled away, it felt like she was slipping further and further out of reach, taking pieces of his heart with her.

He tried everything he could think of to hold on, to make her stay, to remind her of the love they’d built together, the bond that had once felt unbreakable. But all he had now were memories—of her smile, her laugh, the warmth of her hand in his. And no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was losing her, one heartbeat at a time, as she drifted further into a silence he couldn’t break, leaving him waiting, helpless, and brokenhearted.

What haunted Dominik the most was the twisted familiarity of it all, a nightmare he thought he’d already escaped. This was exactly how it had ended with Michelle—the slow withdrawal, the distant looks, the way every small interaction began to feel like a chore for her. With Michelle, he’d watched their love decay, piece by piece, and when he’d finally asked her why, her eyes were cold, her heart already long gone. She’d reduced him to someone disposable, someone unworthy, and he had spent months putting himself back together, rebuilding the pieces she’d broken.

Liv had been his safe haven, the one who’d made him believe that love could be gentle and good. She was nothing like Michelle, and he hated himself for even thinking there could be a comparison. But now, as she pulled away, he felt that same raw, gnawing fear in his chest. She was slipping through his fingers, and he was helpless to stop it.

Liv, the girl who’d always told him that communication was everything, the girl who had once stayed up all night just to talk him through his darkest moments, now wouldn’t even look him in the eyes. She was a stranger, her voice an echo of the girl he’d fallen for, and every time he reached for her, it was like his hand fell through air. She was there but not there, present but distant, leaving him grappling with the emptiness she was creating.

Liv’s mind was a mess of hurt and confusion, but she couldn't find it in herself to tell him why. She knew, logically, that his friends’ words were nothing more than careless remarks, echoes of a past that didn’t matter. But logic had nothing to do with how she felt. Their voices had reawakened old insecurities that she’d buried deep, scars that she’d convinced herself were healed. It was like reopening a wound that had barely begun to scar over—every word, every glance, a reminder of every past hurt. She couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe they were right, that maybe Dominik would eventually see her the way his friends did, and she couldn’t bear to watch him pull away.

So, she’d decided to be the one to step back, to give him space, to stop being a “burden.” She thought that maybe, if she faded quietly from his life, she could spare them both the inevitable pain, that her absence would make it easier for him. But what she didn’t realize was that her silence was tearing Dominik apart in ways she couldn’t imagine.

Every time he looked at her, all he saw was the beautiful soul he knew, the girl who had brought light into his life. But now that light was dimming, and with every passing day, she became less like the Liv he knew, more like a shadow. Dominik was left haunted, helpless, clutching onto whatever scraps of their love he could still feel, each one slipping from his grasp like grains of sand.

Liv no longer felt worthy of him; she was convinced she’d destroyed everything good between them. There were nights when, restless and aching, she’d walk past his work just to catch a glimpse of him through the large windows of the bar. She’d watch him, hidden in the shadows, her heart clenching painfully as she saw him laughing with his coworkers, his face lit up in a way she could only interpret as relief. In her mind, he looked freer, happier, as if her absence had lifted some weight from his shoulders. She told herself he was better off, that maybe she’d done him a favor by pulling away.

But she couldn’t have been more wrong. What she didn’t see were the nights Dominik spent in quiet agony, her silence gnawing at him, the ghost of her presence haunting every corner of the bar where they’d once shared moments filled with laughter and warmth. Every time the door swung open, he would look up, his heart racing, hoping she would walk in. And every time it wasn’t her, the emptiness inside him deepened, a hollow ache that no amount of work or laughter with friends could fill. Her absence was like a slow poison, eating away at him, piece by piece.

One week before what would have been their anniversary, Liv gathered the courage to step into his world again. She took a deep breath as she walked into the bar, every instinct in her body screaming at her to turn back, to disappear. But she couldn’t stay away. Dominik’s eyes met hers, and in that moment, his heart both ached and leaped, warmth spreading through him despite the hurt. He’d missed her more than he could ever put into words.

“Liv,” he murmured, his voice soft, laced with a pain he couldn’t hide. Her weak smile barely reached her eyes, and she forced herself to hold his gaze for a moment, before her eyes drifted toward his coworkers, Finn and Damian. Their expressions were indifferent, unreadable, but in her mind, their eyes were filled with silent judgment, their stares cutting her down to nothing. She felt as small as ever, a deep shame settling over her like a heavy blanket, and she could feel herself shrinking under their gaze, unable to shake the memory of the words they’d spoken about her.

Her voice was barely a whisper as she greeted Dominik, every part of her wanting to melt into the floor, to disappear from the weight of her own insecurities. She glanced quickly at his coworkers, her heart sinking as they exchanged a look that, in her mind, was full of disdain. She felt foolish, unworthy, as if she didn’t belong in his life, as if her very presence here was an intrusion. And though she couldn’t bring herself to say it, she wanted nothing more than to tell Dominik how sorry she was—for everything, for the pain she’d caused, for being the burden she’d convinced herself she was.

Dominik saw it all in her eyes, the pain she tried so hard to hide, the sadness that lingered behind her fragile smile. He wanted to reach out, to take her hand, to tell her she was everything to him, that he hadn’t felt whole since she’d started pulling away. But she looked so broken, so distant, he didn’t know if he could reach her. And in that silence, as they stood there together yet worlds apart, he felt the weight of his own helplessness, of watching the woman he loved drift further away, just out of his grasp.

Dominik held Liv tightly in his arms, pulling her close, and for a fleeting moment, the world outside faded away. Her arms instinctively wrapped around him, clinging to the warmth that felt so right yet so wrong. Each heartbeat felt like a reminder of how far they had drifted, how she had convinced herself that she was a burden in his life, a source of irritation rather than the joy she longed to be. She could feel the heaviness of those thoughts pressing against her chest, and no matter how much she wanted to revel in the comfort of his embrace, the shadows of her insecurities loomed large.

“I missed you so much, baby,” Dominik murmured against her hair, the familiar warmth of his breath sending shivers down her spine. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head, and the sweet scent of her vanilla shampoo enveloped him like a comforting hug. It was his favorite scent, one that brought back memories of lazy mornings and stolen kisses, and yet it only deepened the ache in Liv’s heart. She wanted to bask in his affection, to let the moment linger, but the gnawing feeling that she was somehow an imposition held her captive.

“I missed you more,” she replied, her voice catching slightly in her throat, as if the weight of unspoken words threatened to spill over. There were so many things she wanted to say, apologies that clawed at her insides, but they remained stuck, lodged in her heart like stones. Just as she opened her mouth to express the depths of her feelings, Finn’s voice boomed across the bar, shattering the moment.

“Dom, you have customers waiting!”

Dominik pulled away, regret flashing in his eyes, and all she could do was watch as he scurried off, his smile lingering just a moment longer before it vanished. Liv sighed heavily, her gaze dropping to the floor. That nagging sensation of being an annoyance swelled within her. She’d come to perform, to share her heart with the very people who’d supported her, but now it felt like a burden all over again.

As she walked towards the stage, her heart pounded in her chest, each step heavier than the last. She could feel the weight of the bar’s atmosphere pressing down on her, the excited chatter of the customers swirling around her. Pulling out her guitar, she reread the lyrics scrawled on the crumpled paper in her hand. The pink ink shone brightly against the backdrop of her inner turmoil, and she hesitated. What had once been a joyful anthem of love now felt tainted by her doubts.

The regulars greeted her with cheers and applause, and though their enthusiasm warmed her, it did little to quell the storm brewing inside. Dominik, standing off to the side, cast glances her way, a smile tugging at his lips, but the look in his eyes was different—conflicted, concerned. He had missed her, she could see that, but would he understand the turmoil that had driven her to this moment?

When she began to sing, the familiar chords felt foreign under her fingertips, and the words, which once flowed effortlessly, now tasted bitter on her tongue. Instead of the usual love song, a haunting melody poured out, a lament that resonated with her pain. It was raw and unfiltered, an anguished expression of everything she’d been holding back. Her voice cracked with emotion, and she poured her heart into every lyric, each note tinged with sorrow.

The regulars exchanged confused glances, and Dominik’s smile faltered as the realization settled in. This wasn’t the song he’d anticipated; it was a breakup ballad, a painful reflection of their fractured connection. As Liv’s voice trembled, she could see the worry etched on his face, the way his brow furrowed in concern. The truth was spilling out with every note, unraveling in a way she hadn’t intended, and in that moment, she felt both liberated and trapped.

As the final chord faded, she looked out at the sea of faces—some sympathetic, others bewildered—and felt the crushing weight of her choices. She had come to share her love, but instead, she had laid bare her broken heart, and now she feared it would all come crashing down around them. Dominik stood frozen, his heart aching as he watched the girl he loved unravel before him, and he felt helpless, desperately wishing he could pull her back from the edge of her pain.

Liv felt like she was walking through a fog as she left the stage, the applause of the crowd fading into a distant echo that barely registered in her mind. The song had torn her open, exposing wounds she had buried deep, and now she felt raw, like she had just committed the most unforgivable mistake. Her fingers fumbled as she scrambled to collect her things, the guitar slipping slightly from her grasp as she stumbled toward the exit, her heart racing with a mixture of panic and regret. She couldn’t bear to face Dominik, to see the confusion and hurt in his eyes after everything she had just revealed.

But just as she pushed through the door, she felt his grip on her wrist, strong and unyielding. He pulled her to the side, away from the laughter and chatter of the bar, into the cool night air that felt heavy with unspoken words. They stood before the big windows, the glow of the bar’s interior illuminating their faces, casting shadows that mirrored the turmoil in her heart.

“Liv, what’s been happening between us?” His voice was soft but strained, his eyes searching for the answers that eluded her. There was a desperation in his gaze, a deep-seated pain that twisted like a knife in her gut. “I feel like I don’t know you anymore.”

She could see it in his eyes—an anguish that mirrored her own—and it made her want to scream, to tell him everything that had been weighing on her heart. But the lump in her throat constricted tighter, suffocating her words before they could escape. She bit the inside of her cheek, willing herself not to cry, forcing her gaze up to the sky, as if the stars could provide her with some clarity.

“Please, talk to me,” he urged, his voice trembling with emotion. “I want to know what’s wrong. I want to be there for you, Liv. I love you so much it makes my heart feel like it’ll explode any moment!” His confession poured out like a flood, raw and unfiltered, and she felt every syllable cut through her like glass. “I’ve never felt like this for anyone ever. You’re the reason I even believe in love, Liv. Please, talk to me.”

His words echoed in her mind, a siren call that both soothed and shattered her. She took a deep breath, knowing that what she was about to say would shatter the fragile connection they had built. She didn’t want to say it; she had fought against the urge, but she felt as though it was the only way to save him from the burden of her pain.

“Let’s break up.” The words slipped out in a whisper, but they struck like lightning, bright and destructive.

Dominik froze, the world around them falling silent as if time itself had stopped. His expression shifted from confusion to heartbreak, a visceral pain crossing his features as if her words had physically wounded him. “You don’t mean that, Liv,” he said, his voice barely a whisper, filled with disbelief and desperation.

“Look at me and say it.” His tone cracked like ice underfoot, and she felt the weight of his gaze piercing into her, demanding the truth.

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she forced herself to meet his gaze. But the moment their eyes locked, the reality of her words sank in, wrapping around her heart like a vice. She could see the flicker of hope dimming in his eyes, the light fading away, and it threatened to tear her apart from the inside out.

“Please,” he begged, his voice breaking. “Don’t do this, Liv.”

Every part of her wanted to take it back, to tell him that she was scared, that she didn’t know how to navigate the chasm that had opened between them. But the fear of being a burden loomed larger than her love, and she felt like she was losing herself, losing him, losing everything that mattered in the process.

Liv felt as if the air had been sucked from her lungs, her heart a lead weight in her chest, so heavy that speaking was impossible. The world around them faded, leaving just the two of them locked in this moment of agony. She loved Dominik fiercely, more than she could ever articulate, and the thought of breaking up felt like plunging a knife into her own heart. But what if her very presence was a burden? What if staying only held him back? She was terrified of being the reason for his unhappiness, of him feeling trapped because of her struggles. She couldn't bear the thought of weighing him down with her insecurities, her darkness.

“It’s over between us, Dominik.” The words slipped from her lips like poison, each syllable tasting bitter and acrid. She forced herself to meet his gaze, her blue eyes clashing with his dark brown ones, which shimmered with confusion and hurt. They were glossy, reflecting the pain she was causing him, and it made her heart ache more than she thought possible.

“Why?” His voice broke, a fragile whisper laced with desperation, and Liv felt her soul shatter at the sound. Tears streamed down his face, each droplet a testament to the love they had shared, to the connection that felt so vital just moments before.

“W-we’re just not compatible,” she stammered, the lie hanging in the air between them like a thick fog. She hated herself for it, every word cutting deeper than any blade. Her mind raced with the thoughts of how different they truly were, but not in the way she was saying. “I’m just too different compared to you. I’m a burden, Dominik.” The confession slipped from her lips, each word dripped with a truth she had been fighting against for so long.

He opened his mouth to argue, to protest that she could never be a burden, that she was everything but. But the pain etched on her face silenced him. The sadness that had twisted in his gut coiled tighter, and he felt powerless, unable to reach her, to pull her back from the brink she had thrown herself over.

“I’m sorry. I don’t deserve you.” Her voice was small, barely a whisper above the night’s breeze, and Dominik’s heart broke further at the sight of her withdrawing from him. “May you find someone who is actually worthy and not so… ruined.” Each word was a dagger, thrusting deeper into the already gaping wound in his heart.

With that, she turned on her heel, running away from him, each step echoing the finality of her decision. Dominik felt as though the ground beneath him had shifted, leaving him unmoored and desperate. He wanted to chase after her, to pull her back into his arms, to tell her that she was everything to him and more. But as she fled, something fell from her backpack, landing softly at his feet.

His gaze dropped to the folded and crumpled paper, the sight making his stomach drop. Picking it up, he unfolded it with trembling hands, dread pooling in his gut. The familiar lyrics spilled across the page, a song meant for their one-year anniversary, each line a reminder of all the love they had shared. But as he flipped it over, the words scrawled on the back shattered him anew: “I’m sorry for being a burden.”

The realization crushed him, the weight of her words suffocating. He staggered back, his heart crumbling under the weight of her despair, the hopelessness she had wrapped around herself like a cloak. He stood alone under the stars, tears streaming down his face, the cool night air doing nothing to soothe the fire of anguish burning in his chest. He cried out into the darkness, a sound of pure heartache, unfiltered and raw, unaware of how Liv had come to such a devastating conclusion about herself.

Every moment they had spent together flashed before his eyes—her laughter, the way she lit up a room, the warmth of her touch, and the way she had made him believe in love again. And now, all he could see was the distance she had created, the walls she had built around herself that he had been powerless to breach. The stars twinkled above, indifferent to the heartache unfolding below, and in that moment, Dominik felt more alone than ever, his heart splintering into countless pieces that seemed impossible to put back together.

Liv, the radiant light who had mended the shattered fragments of Dominik's heart, was now the very reason those pieces were fracturing once more. She was the one who had breathed life back into him, reigniting a belief in love that he thought had been extinguished forever. Her laughter had been a balm to his wounds, her touch a gentle promise that happiness was possible. Yet, in a cruel twist of fate, she had become the architect of his heartache, the one to snatch away the fragile hope she had painstakingly built.

Each moment they had shared—the whispered secrets, the tender embraces, the shared dreams—now felt tainted by the bitter reality of her departure. Dominik could hardly reconcile the image of her bright smile with the pain radiating from his chest, the hollow echo of her absence resonating in every corner of his being. It was as if she had not only taken love from him but had also stripped away the very essence of joy, leaving behind a chasm that seemed insurmountable.

His heart ached with the weight of her choice, the knowledge that the person who had once illuminated his world had now cast him into shadow. He could still feel the warmth of her presence lingering in the air, yet it was laced with the coldness of her words—her confessions that she felt unworthy, that she was a burden. Every syllable she had spoken echoed in his mind, a haunting reminder of the love that had transformed into despair.

In those final moments, as she turned to walk away, it was as if a part of his soul had been wrenched from him, leaving an emptiness so profound that it threatened to swallow him whole. Liv, who had healed him, had unwittingly become the knife that carved through his heart once again. And now, as he stood under the vast expanse of the night sky, the stars looked down upon him with indifference, mocking him for believing that love could ever truly be his again.

[theerurishipper]

Am I selfish for wishing Marinette wasn't the protagonist? She doesn't really connect to the plot besides her love arc and I don't find it that interesting. Like a lot of female protagonists like the cast of Totally Spies the girls force to work for Jerry, or Bloom finding she's a fairy and has the dragon flame or Iris from lolirock who finds out she's Princess of Ephedia. Like you have all these ladies who's arc isn't just connected to just love like it's part of it but romance isn't central to their character they have more to them.

Like it's so weird honestly because I never really knew of a protagonist who just didn't connect with the story instead the secondary character has. His father the villain, he has fans and many who crush on him, he's a model but he's secretly also the famed ChatNoir, he's an abused child who want their parent attention, rich, and a little behind when it comes to social cues. Like? Are we sure he's not the protagonist is that why the show gives him such little contributions and makes others take what he's deserves. Like the book from early on s2, felix finding out his mother in the basement, Kagami learning early on the whole agreste situation and doing a whole play in front of Ladybug with Felix to convey the situation.

She's in every episode most MC's aren't always there sometimes they leave for an episode or two or have someone take the spotlight but she is there 24/7. Like I kinda want to know another character for a chance because I already gauged enough of her character to know romance is all there is to her lol. I don't know can't we have an Adrien central episode, Alya, Kagami, hell even Luka?

No wonder I think the cast are so bland to me because they just appear we don't really know them personally besides if they get akumatized.

Marinette to me is like if we're seeing the blushing female girl and the entire show from a Hinata perspective in Naruto just there to pine for a boy who aren't even that close.

You're not selfish for that, anon. We all have our different tastes. Personally, I like Marinette as the protagonist, but we all have different likes and dislikes.

I will say that the writing for Marinette as a protagonist is pretty lacking though. She doesn't have any connection to the main plot on her own and can only have any relevance in the final battle of her show by taking the place of some other character. The show is literally allergic to taking the focus off her for more than five seconds. Plenty of shows that have a single character as their main lead also devote few episodes to the developing the side characters.

For example, a superhero show like Miraculous would usually have an episode where Ladybug is incapacitated, and Chat Noir has to do the saving. But Miraculous can't handle not having Marinette be the one to save the day at all times, so Chat Noir is just always reduced to being the sidekick or the one who gets caught and has to have Ladybug save him. Like, even in episodes where it seems like Chat Noir will have a larger role to play, the writers can't help but have it be Ladybug who saves the day in the end. Even in episodes that seem like they are going to focus on Adrien, Marinette will have some B plot shoehorned in that will take over the entire episode until it seems like Adrien's conflict is the actual B plot.

Like you said, it's not wrong for the protagonist to take a step back in a few episodes and let the supporting characters shine. Miraculous' habit of shoving Marinette into the resolution for every other conflict but her own is detrimental to both her own character and every other character. It's just bad writing, honestly.

Thank you for your ask!

[naamahdarling]

Do you have a favorite musical?

If so, what are your favorite lyrics from it, and why?

ALW's CATS.

Is it a surreal mess? Yes! But I love it before everything else.

The lyrics are silly but very clever. Most are at least partly by TS Eliot, drawn from a wonderfully nonsensical book of poems.

I think my favorite song is the Invitation to the Jellicle Ball, neck and neck with Mr Mistoffelees.

My favorite cat is Mistoffelees by a lot, followed by the Rum Tum Tugger. They are in love.

But the part that makes me feel the most in my heart is Grizabella. The only cat I relate to is Grizabella.

Memory is the big number that everyone knows and I do absolutely love it, it's one of my favorite songs and probably the best in the musical as it was before CATS 2019 introduced a new song, but I feel that out of context it simply doesn't have punch. It gets trotted out to showcase a singer's skill, as a bit of a tearjerker if you're a sentimental person. It is so much more than that.

I didn't understand Grizabella properly until I was well and truly an adult and had taken in multiple cats off the street, and lived near a colony, and watched my own cats become frail, which are all painful things in many ways; AND until I had begun to really feel the weight of my marginalization as a disabled person and an ill person, which means confronting almost daily the fact that I am unlikely to come to the sort of end I would like.

Hold on because I'm going to be unhinged about this cat for a minute.

Grizabella is an aged stray, once welcomed, now abandoned and unloved, considered ugly even by others like her (who are shown to supposedly accept differences and value, or at least respect, most everyone...but not her).

She lives in a haunted, lonely state unacknowledged by anyone except to be driven away. She can no longer care for herself, she is filthy and matted and scarred and probably in a lot of pain, she is starving, and she has nothing but her memories of better times, and every single dawn is both a gift and a miserable curse. She gets to remember. She has to remember.

If you watch, Grizabella is onstage a LOT, she's just off in the background, usually poorly lit, where she tries to mirror the dances happening on the main part of the stage, dances she knows because that was once her, there in the spotlight, shining. But now she's in too much pain to dance and her body isn't working right anymore. I have no doubt Grizabella is dying. The question is whether she will get to do that well, comforted and with dignity, or do it badly and alone.

I cannot HANDLE Grizabella.

If you have even the tiniest inkling of love for cats, if you believe every cat's life is worth something, her story should destroy you.

The legendary Jennifer Hudson's performance in the movie brought a really angry and confrontational turn to her, and it was flat out amazing. A rebuke of a performance. It really hurts to watch but it's what the role has always needed. She isn't just weak and sad, she clings to the tatters of her dignity and is angry that the others don't see her as a whole person. Just a miserable shadow to be avoided. A cautionary tale. We are never told what terrible thing she did to deserve her fall, and given that most of the Jellicles are young, I don't know that any of them really remember.

I will physically fight anyone who says she should not have been selected to ascend to a new life. She was the only choice. Even Gus. Even him. He can have his turn next year. Grizabella does not have another year in her.

And I'm going to make some folks mad but I love the 2019 movie (it's bad) and the new song, Beautiful Ghosts, is amazing, and I DO prefer Taylor Swift's version as the movie version is a little more timid (fitting the role and musical way better) but TS fucking BELTS IT and I get chills every time.

The lyrics are incredible and the song is gorgeous, gorgeous. And strung together with Grizabella's song, it finishes the musical in a way that it was a bit unfinished before. It uses an actual full song to connect Grizabella to the Ball and the Choice more directly than any choreography ever did or could:

Victoria, the White Cat and viewpoint character, still almost a kitten, has been dumped in the street and into a terrifying and beautiful new life.

After being swept up into its wonder, she sees Grizabella, utterly rejected, hissed at, made fun of, despised, and aches with the injustice of it -- Victoria was snatched right up by the other cats the instant her paws hit the ground, but nobody will take in Grizabella. Not even her own kind.

Victoria sees how strangely similar they are and feels a kinship that has no pity in it at all, but wonder and respect.

So Victoria sings this new song expressing the first admiration Grizabella has heard in god alone knows how long, reminding her she has had an amazing life worth envy and renown, and she pulls this horrible decrepit old mess of a cat into the Jellicle Ball, where she is FINALLY relieved of her pain.

Like? I'm crying right now?

It isn't a serious musical, but Grizabella's story runs through it like a cold current, something real and terrible, surrounded by absolute ridiculousness. Her numbers are deadly serious, never played for laughs. And ultimately it is her story that turns out to be the most important one, the truest one, and it is dark, and it is hopeful but only in only the most painful and grief-stricken way. She isn't brought back into a comfortable life with other cats to be happy and surrounded by love. She essentially...dies and goes to cat heaven. She embodies hope itself to the others, and her ascension represents a deeply humbling lesson in humility and grace. Her suffering and her ascent represent the possible future of every one of them, and now they have to confront that, and their treatment of her. She was rewarded, and for all their beauty and charm they were not.

Anyway I'm not normal about it.

The lyrics from Beautiful Ghosts that I love are:

Perilous night, their voices calling. A flicker of light, before the dawning. Out here the wild ones are taming the fear within me. Scared to call them my friends and be broken again. Is this hope just a mystical dream?

and

And so maybe my home Isn't what I had known, what I thought it would be. But I feel so alive With these phantoms of night, and I know that this life isn't safe but it's wild and it's free!

Like, come on. It's a lovely song and it took my breath away in the theater.

Ugh this musical touched me as a feral cat girl of 10 and it touches me again as a sad catguy in their 40s. Truly a very stupid work of weirdly meaningful art and one for the ages.

There are much better musicals, but none of them are part of me.

[dalishious]

The Dragon Age Fandom’s New Favourite Charming Slaver

There is nothing wrong with appreciating and enjoying villainous characters, especially when they are done so well. Everything about Rezaren Ammosine makes a him a remarkable and fascinating villain. He’s very intelligently depicted; all aspects of his character matter to how he presents in the story. His design is that of a handsome young white man. He is animated with a graceful and gentle flow, not just in how he casts spells but literally how he carries himself. His voice has a soft and soothing tone, and he uses that soft tone as part of his powerful charisma and sway he has over the people around him, like Tassia. In fact, Rezaren uses all of these characteristics for his benefit. Because just like in real life, abusers do not always wear “I’m a shithead” signs on their chest. To the outside world, they are charming and gentle people who couldn’t possibly hurt a fly, could they? But make no mistake. Rezaren Ammosine is a villain to his core. And treating him as anything other than a villain is a grossly disrespectful interpretation to fans of colour, given the nature of his villainy.

From his very introduction, we see that Rezaren is used to getting his way, and becomes easily frustrated and angered when his will is denied. When he summons a spirit of memory to interrogate about the circulum’s creation, the spirit warns him that answering too much would be unwise. Rezaren ignores these warnings and orders the spirit to continue, to the brink of turning the spirit into a pride demon. This is called back into further example when Miriam refuses his plans for her. Again, he becomes easily angered and physically lashes out, using his magic to flare up the pain in her wound. Then to solidify the power he has over her, says “You live because I will it.”

Rezaren explains to Tassia, “Her name is Miriam. She's my sister. My mother owned her. She was to be my personal spy, assassin. Whatever was needed. My left hand, as it were. But she raised us as siblings.” Except we see how Miriam and Neb were really raised in flashbacks. We see how they were beaten for Rezaren simply tripping while playing with them. We see how they were forced to do hard labour, and told they were not allowed to own anything. And we see how Rezaren’s mother sacrificed Neb so that Rezaren would not become an abomination during his Harrowing, sending the demon into Neb’s body instead. And that raising has obviously shaped how Rezaren views this so-called siblinghood, because while he may call Neb and Miriam his brother and sister, make no mistake, he still views them belonging to him. Rezaren has no respect for their autonomy. Even in death, he defiles Neb’s body by using blood magic to put a demon inside it and controlling him. And Miriam? He cannot bare to accept that she refuses to submit to slavery again, no matter how pretty a picture he paints of them being like family. But you don’t own a sibling. “Selfish bitch! You and your ungrateful brother. You were mine!” he shouts at the very end, before Miriam fatally stabs him.

So, Rezaren is a villainous slaver. Why is it, then, that people are writing reviews praising his character while calling Miriam and her party the real baddies? Why are people saying he “deserved” a redemption arc? The only assumption I can come to is simply that people are so not used to the white guy being the one to lose in the fantasy genre, that they’re willing to bend over backwards to try and paint the only white person in the show as a victim of the #mean brown woman. Think about it. How many stories are out there where the hero is a white man? White people are conditioned to always be the centre of attention, so when they’re not for a change, they need to seek it out by shining a spotlight on whatever white man they can find. This is of course nothing unique to the Dragon Age fandom, but rather a disease found in fandom spaces as a whole. Hell, look at the Star Wars sequels, and how the bizarre love for and babygirlification of Kylo Ren was so strong it led to ruining the second and third films. This is why it’s such a relief to me that Rezaren dies in the end of Absolution, because otherwise it would truly end up a fear to me that the writers would try the same with him.

When you’re pushing Rezaren into the spotlight, you are pushing Miriam out of it. And Miriam is such a treasure of a character, it’s a crying shame to see her get so much disrespect. I have nothing against people who like Rezaren, but if your like for him goes to the extent of putting down Miriam in order to put him up, then we have a problem.