#a nighttime intruder

[honorhearted]

The bloody women...

Benjamin laughed at that, hating how his initial instinct was to grin and nod along. Bloody hell, why was anything about Cauthon proving to be remotely tolerable? Granted, he knew he technically didn't have a right to be angry about the man's (justified) grudge, but the fact remained that he still wouldn't exactly call himself fond of the general's methods.

"And let me guess: those 'bloody women' really have it out for you?" Giving Mat a sidelong glance, Benjamin wryly quipped, "I can't imagine why. At least I can return home without the fear of reprisal."

When the other man smiled, and without malice this time, Benjamin offered a lopsided smile of his own. "I suppose we do," he agreed. "I imagine we would've fared better if you hadn't come skulking into camp...I used to be more cautious growing up, but war makes the need to shoot first before asking questions a bit more imperative...though you're lucky I didn't shoot you." Again, he glanced at Mat. "I never miss."

The whole revolution?

The idea was...not strange, per se, but Benjamin never thought he'd amount to much beyond his teaching. It's all he wanted for himself, truly, despite his interest in law, politics, and philosophy. "There are plenty of farm boys here," he said. "The officers, not so much...most of us do come from money, so you were right to be suspicious. But I promise that they're neither spoiled nor unkind, so you won't have any snobbish arseholes to deal with." Rolling his eyes, he muttered, "Or at least, not with this regiment. The more uppity ones have been taxed with our no-nonsense commanders."

He hummed. "So, if you're also a farm boy, I presume you learned to shoot from your father? To protect the farm? That's more or less my story, too...except my father's also a reverend. Almost seems a little counterintuitive because of the whole 'turn the other cheek' thing."

mat can't help but laugh. he hadn't expected to have anything in common with tallmadge. in fact he had wanted to keep the bloody idiot who had stabbed him as a polar opposite of himself. and blood and ashes, how he hated most of those posh bastard, who walked around like they were better than everyone else. but as it turned out ben was nothing more than a farm boy like he was, a small town where everyone knew everyone. sounded a lot like emond's field to him, too. which surprised him.

"well, i know all about that. back home everyone knows everything. especially the bloody women." he gives a roll of his eyes.

the women were always all caught up in what he was doing. angry that he was always in some kinda trouble or what not. that was just how it was back home. with eyes always on him. he had to be creative to get out of trouble, didn't he?

"looks like we found something in common." he says almost begrudgingly even though he actually smiles in his direction.

he was glad to not have to be back home just now. crazy as it sounded he preferred the chaos to the calm of home. it was easier when you really didn't have to think too much. when you could just go from one thing to the next without any kind of worry. thinking too much happened in quiet places. he found himself victim to that from time to time. especially since all the fighting had started.

"who would've guessed it? two farm boys about to save the whole bloody revolution."

[mother-lee]

“intruso” by gabriela lópez neumann

[ambicephalic]

Title:

The intruder

Origin:

Pulling into the driveway at night, before the headlights illuminated the ground, I thought I saw a bunny staring back at me in the darkness. I hit the brakes and slow rolled, waiting for it to scurry away, but instead it looked like there were now multiple rabbits, standing their ground, staring me down as if to say "we reserved this conference room". The center one was wearing a crown of weeds.

Finally the light from the car hit the pavement and I could see what was there the whole time, a crack in the asphalt and weeds cropping up from it.

Our brains are designed to filter out anything that isn't relevant to our survival. We catch glimpses of a richer and fuller reality than we can ever imagine in the momentary glitches.

[astarionancuntnin]

Nothing But A Dream

summary: you've agreed to take things slow with astarion, only partaking in nighttime activities when he specifically desires them, and this morning, he wants you, but he would hate to intrude on your precious beauty sleep.

rating: E

word count: 1.6k

pairing: astarion x you (fem!reader)

cw: 18+. MIND THE TAGS! light fluff, established relationship, somnophilia, cnc/mildly dubious consent, light choking, p in v, creampie, cock soaking. full list on ao3

read on ao3

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or keep reading down below~

Ever since defeating the Absolute, you’ve been enjoying your quiet life in the Underdark with Astarion. You agreed to take things slow when it comes to sex; he still wanted to experience this with you, but he needed time to feel truly like himself when being intimate. It wasn’t an issue for you, and you were open to take as much time as needed and indulge him in anything he wanted to try, whenever he wanted to, for as long as he didn’t feel pressured by it. You knew how important this was for him, after the discussion you had following the defeat of Cazador, and the last thing you wanted was to make him uncomfortable. 

Even though he wouldn’t admit it out loud yet, you sensed how he enjoyed the proximity you shared without the pressure of sex. It’s in the way he allowed himself to relax when he was with you, as you laid close on the sofa while you were both reading, or how he insisted to wash your hair and style it afterwards – it drives him crazy how little care you give it –  when you were taking baths together, so he could look at you like you were his masterpiece, but what he told you he preferred were those lazy mornings cuddling in bed naked. He would lay over your chest, skin to skin, listening to the lulling melody of your soft heartbeat. Finding comfort in your warmth reminded him of the sun’s embrace that he missed dearly. Those were the moments he cherished the most, where he was able to see you being at your most vulnerable, on display, just for him. 

You were a heavy sleeper, and with no real responsibilities anymore, you allowed yourself to sleep-in way more often than you used to (you deserved it, after all, who would blame the Saviour of Baldur’s Gate for indulging in a little respite). It’s not something Astarion was able to do, but he had no reason to get up on his own and do anything else. What point would there be of doing anything without you, the very reason he kept on living? This morning was no exception, as you laid bare in the warmth of your bed with Astarion hugging you from behind.

As you slightly move half-awake, you feel his hand ghosting over your hips, and eventually cupping your tender breasts. You happily moan into his touch, loving how his grip held all of you ever so perfectly. It wasn’t necessarily sexual when he did it, rather comforting – as much for him than for you – and you loved how he cradled you as if you were going to slip out from his grasp at any moment, holding on tight to you. There was one thing that felt different today, but in the bliss of your slumber, you weren’t able to quite put your finger on it. You hum, checking in on him as you feel him grab onto you rougher than usual, with his nails digging into the soft skin of your boobs.

“So sorry dear, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he says, his voice deep, as if he himself had just woken up. 

“Mh, you okay?” You mumble, still in limbo.

“Everything is just fine darling,” he kisses your shoulder softly. “Go back to sleep.”

Astarion’s honeyed voice in the crook of your neck brings you comfort and you find yourself following his words, nuzzling into your pillow as you back up into him further, seeking for more contact from him. In your dazed state, you think you can hear him growl softly, and you pay it no mind at first, until you feel something poke harder at your back and his hot breath upon your shoulder. This, along with his hand kneading your breast constantly, have you feeling a warmth pool to the bottom of your stomach that was becoming difficult to ignore. You try to shift around in your dazed state only to find Astarion holding you tightly in place, stopping you from moving at all.

“ ‘starion?” You mutter, as you finally awaken.

“Shh, you’re alright, love,” he purrs, his voice but a whisper.

“What are you– ah–!”

His hand leaves your boobs to sneak down between your legs, sliding between your folds to find the dampness that’s been accumulating there.

“Aren’t you the neediest little thing,” he groans, his voice becoming darker as his fingers lazily massage over your clit. “You can relax, dear, I just need you to stay still now.”

The stimulation he’s been providing between your legs finally stirs you completely awake, hazy from his touch. He slides his cock just between your folds and that’s when you realize what the firmness in your back was. Instinctively, you spread your legs apart to help him ease in, wanting him to go further, but he closes your thighs back together, uttering in a raspy voice.

“Tsk tsk, I said relax. You need not do anything.”

“Are you sure about this?” You manage to say through your breathy voice.

“Very much so,” his other hand wraps around your throat pulling you back, only applying a light pressure around your neck and a whimper escapes you. “Now, be good for me, will you, darling?”

You nod, as much as you can with his hand around you, and close your eyes, letting him use you as he sees fit. His hand over your waist holds your legs tightly together, as he slides his length between your legs, getting his cock wet from your folds. His rhythm starts slow as he gets accustomed to the sensation, and the friction it creates has you panting, as your own pleasure builds up.

"Oh doll, are you enjoying me using you in your sleep? How depraved," he growls and you feel yourself getting soaked from the sound of his voice and his shaft sliding over your entrance.

It had been so long since you had been intimately close, you had almost forgotten the surprising size of him. You wanted nothing but for him to slide inside of you and indulge in his carnal desires, to use and defile you as if you were nothing but a toy to him, but you let him completely take the reins on this one, let him reclaim his sexual and bodily autonomy the way he chose to, and this morning, it involved fucking you while you were asleep, without you moving as much as a muscle. He chose to focus on his own needs, and in doing so, you discovered a new form of pleasure.

You hear him grunt as his thrust become more erratic, with his nails digging inside the soft skin of your hips, and the wet sounds of your juices slipping over his cock between your legs, and although this was meant for him to focus on his own pleasure, having him handle you this way after many weeks apart brought you close to your edge just as fast as he did. You find yourself contracting the muscles of your thighs together, squeezing around his shaft tighter and at the same time, providing additional stimulation to your clit

“Gods– ah, you feel too good, dear, I won’t last much longer,” he breathes behind you, his growling turning primal now, making him almost unrecognizable. “Can I slide inside of  you? It’ll just be the tip, please, I need to feel you.”

You’re not even sure if he heard the “yes” you barely manage to voice out, when you feel him plunge inside of you in one strong push, your pussy offering little to no resistance in the state it is.

“Fuckkk, I've missed how you feel wrapped around me,” he groans. “So sorry love, I simply can’t resist your cunt when it's drooling for me like that,” he resumes his thrusts into you, nearing the point of his own climax, when he hears you whimpering. “You've been so good for me, I just need you to hold on a bit longer. Can you do that for me, my sweet?”

You’re way past the point of answering, reduced to small cries and gasps as he rams recklessly into your needy cunt. When you hear him whine your name, you clench around him, hit by the waves of your orgasm. As your walls tighten around him, he finally stills inside, pushing your hips flush against his to shoot his seed deep inside your womb. You feel his cock pulsing inside of you as he unloads himself and the sensation sends an additional wave of electricity through your body.

You’re both left as panting messes, bathing in a mix of your combined sweat and come as you come down from your high. He rests with his forehead against your shoulder as he catches his breath.

“Wouldn’t want to make a mess here, it’d be better if I just stayed inside you, don’t you think?” He says between breaths, and you hum, your voice still out for the count, as he smiles behind you. “I thought so. Now, I believe you have a beauty sleep you need to catch up on, you should try to rest a bit more before we face the day.”

Even if you wanted to get up, you wouldn’t have been able to, as this session got you as tired as if you had never slept in the first place. He snuggles back into the position he initially was, with the additional embrace your cunt was providing around him, and leaves a loving kiss over your shoulder, nuzzling into your neck. As you close your eyes, ready to drift back into a deep slumber, he whispers softly:

“Thank you, my love.”

-

Thank you for reading! Comments, reblogs, and likes are very much appreciated <3

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[thevoidstaredback]

How To Balance Your Daytime and Nighttime Activities So That You Don't Burn Yourself Out More Than You Already Have

Batman has an insane patrol schedule. Danny knew this, somewhere in the back of his mind, but it was only just settling in for him.

"You're gonna be dead tired tomorrow," he warns Dick, "You were tired for only being out for two hours longer than your new normal, going from sunset to sunrise is gonna knock you out. I can't drive, Dick, so we'll be stuck in Gotham for another day if you pass out."

Dick patted his head with a smile. "I'll be fine. I'll vene bring ya back some Bat Burger, okay?"

Danny blinked. "Bat Burger?"

"You've- You've never had Bat Burger?" Louder, he called to Barbra and Tim who'd just come back from wherever the Cave entrance is with a comm for Danny, "Danny's never had Bat Burger!"

Barbra gasped dramatically. Tim clutched ay imaginary pearls. "You've never had Bat Burger?!"

"That sounds like an exclusively Gotham thing, and I am decidedly not from Gotham."

It was quiet for another moment as the three stared at him. Finally, Dick blinked. "Have you always been Midwestern?"

"As far as I know, why?"

His head tilted slightly to the left. "Your accent just seems..."

"Much more prevalent." Tim finished.

"Yeah, that."

“I don’t know what you guys are talking about. I’ve always talked like this.” A lie. He was hiding his accent from everyone so that tracking him down would be ever so slightly harder. Danny shrugged, “Right, Barbra?”

She shook her head. "No, you leave me outta this. As far as I know, you've sounded like this the whole time and these two are only just picking up on the accent."

Good job, Danny. Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss your way into their hearts.

"Anyway," Barbra continued, holding her hand to Danny, "This is a comm. It'll keep you patched in until we come back up to the manor after patrol. If you get tired of us or when you sleep, just take it out and put it on your nightstand; we'll take it back down in the morning for you."

"Are you sure you don't wanna come to the Cave?" Tim asked.

Danny shook his head, the comm now sitting in his left ear. "Mister Wayne already hates me, I'm not gonna go into his space. Besides, I'm already intruding as it is."

"I just don't want you to be bored."

"It's alright, I'm sure I'll find something to occupy myself with while you guys are out. And, isn't the whole point of me being on comms so that you guys can talk to me?"

"You're right," Dick agreed, "We'll see ya when we get back."

"Alright."

Occupy himself with? Yeah, he's going back to Bludhaven. Another problem he just realized, though: How is Bat Tech going to react to/around Phantom? Danny figures he has about two minutes to figure it out or he's gonna have to bench himself for the night.

There was no one around, so he ducked into the nearest room to transform. It was a quick lightshow, as always, but not enough to draw attention of anyone passing by.

Except Alfred. Alfred probably knows.

Alfred won't tell Bruce, right?

Right?

Probably not.

Hopefully.

Focusing on the comm revealed no static, though there was no sound either. Was someone trying to talk to him already? Hopefully not. That'd be upsetting.

There was a soft crackle before: "Danny, can you hear us?"

Phantom allowed a small smile of victory. "Yeah, loud and clear, Barbra."

"Call me Batgirl right now, okay? Tim's Robin, and, as you know, Dick's Nightwing. And, if you really need him, Bruce is Batman."

"Got it."

"We don't use real names on comms," Robin said, "Do you have something we could call you?"

That's probably a fish for what his hero name used to be. All three of them - Tim, at the very least - were hung up on the 'not anymore' of his denial and it really showed. He could make it easy and tell them to call him Phantom, but he really does not want them finding out his childhood right now. So, "Tutelary."

"'Tutelary'?" Nightwing asked.

"It's Greek," Batgirl said, "Tutelaries are deities or patrons of protection."

"Aw, that's cute," Robin cooed teasingly, "But you aren't doing much protecting from the Manor."

Phantom - is he really ready to give up that name? - blushed green, "Shut up. Protection Spirits are a big deal where I'm from!" Yeah, meaning most people don't actually think they're protecting them, but who really cares about technicalities?

"And that would be..?" Batman spoke up, his voice coming out much more 'gargle glass' over the comms than was probably intended.

Phantom smirked. "The Midwest." Limits options, but not specifically but he figured he could throw them a bone. Though, that's the only one he's giving Mister Wayne.

Speaking of, "I'll try not to be a distraction, Mister Batman sir, but I won't make any promises."

Nightwing, Batgirl and Robin were all sniggering. Batman was quiet for no more than a few seconds. "Stop getting distracted; We're leaving."

"Yes, sir!"

Phantom listened closely, focusing on the Cave below the Manor. Batman and Robin had gotten into some kind of assault vehicle-race car mix and were driving out into Gotham Proper quickly. Nightwing and Batgirl were both on motorcycles, leaving out a different way but just as quickly.

"Have fun out there, you guys."

Nightwing laughed, "We'll bring ya back some Bat Burger."

Part 15 Part 17

Real quick, before you move on, a quick Thank You to @bianca-hooks123 for the idea for Danny's name Tutelary. I hadn't even thought of using that until it was suggested, so thanks <3

[themirrorghost]

I can't write for the life of me, but I've just thought of a tasty soulmate-fic premise (romantic or platonic!):

When their eyes are closed, a soulmate can see what their other half sees.

Whether it's super clear, or just impressions, or perhaps the more one stares at something the clearer it gets, just imagine the potential.

Soulmates taking turns to close their eyes and communicate through notes to find eachother. Soulmates who know when the other's fallen asleep because it's completely dark on the other side. Soulmates who can't sleep because their other half is somewhere way too bright and have to write passive-aggressive notes asking if they could "please turn the lights down!" Soulmates who are bored and would rather watch the others everyday life, no matter how mundane. Soulmates who's friends and/or family make fun of them for zoning out to watch through their other halves eyes instead of paying attention.

And then, on the other hand? The angst potential is delicious-

Soulmates who are so desperate to stop their other half from knowing that they wear a blindfold, or straight up blind themselves, to prevent it. Soulmates who hate the thought of someone intruding on their private lives, whether they're meant to be together or not. Soulmates who have terrible home/work lives and hope against hope that their other half doesn't find out or worse. Soulmates who are abused or get into fights often, trying their damnedest to protect their eyes above all else. Soulmates who's eyes are damaged, accidentally or otherwise, terrified of the thought that their other half won't ever be able to find them.

There are so so many ways you can swing this:

One soulmate afraid that their other half had died, having never been able to see through their eyes. Their soulmate was born blind, and managed to see things they thought they never could/would thanks to their soulmate.

Soulmates that met during childhood, living their lives as a whole, using their connection for simple, silly, domestic reasons.

Familial soulmates! Twins who aren't quite psychic but know what the other is doing all of the time. Siblings who are stuck with eachother and pretend to hate it, but are secretly glad they'll always have the other. Found family where it feels like they've always had the other and are impossible to separate.

Long-distance soulmates, teaching eachother about where they were born/grew up, showing eachother things precious to eachother.

Daytime Vs Nighttime soulmates who are barely ever awake at the same time, treasuring those in-between moments.

Soulmates with nightmares, one waking up in a panic, blinking hard and trying to calm down as quickly as possible. The other getting glimpses of the aftermath as they blink, perhaps rushing to their side if they can, comforting their distressed soulmate.

College/University AU soulmates knowing too much about their other halves area of study. Writing eachother notes to go to bed or to eat when they both forget and stay up studying way too late.

Assassin/Spy AU soulmates, using their bond to complete their missions as effectively as possible. Or perhaps the assassin/spy's soulmate is their target. Especially tasty if you throw in undercover work.

I could write a million of these prompts-

[lostsyren]

Lol, this almost happend to me with my ex so it gave me a request idea of it happening between them: Sofia sneaks over to Rafe’s place wanting to surprise him. Rafe thinks there is an intruder/robbery hearing noise. Surprise meeting around a corner in the house and Rafe hits her (not domestic violence in that way, because obv he would never hurt HER, mistaken identity thinking it’s a dangerous situation) – Super regretful attentive Rafe who is super lovey and feels bad <3

── .✦ surprise

{summary: sofia decides she wants to pay rafe a surprise visit, but little does she know, rafe hates surprises}

{a/n: hi lovely thank you for the request and story time, I hope you like it and I hope you’re ok from the scare!}

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Being let off work early had given her this idea. Sofia knew that Rafe wanted to see her, but she had to decline, due to her night shift at the club. So when her boss had graciously let her go home, Sofia thrummed with excitement at the prospect of finally being the one to surprise Rafe.

It always irked her how he’d sneak up behind her– silent, despite his lanky frame– and loop his arms around her waist causing her to bristle in shock. Or how he’d suddenly yell out in the dark while they’d be sitting nestled on the couch with a horror movie he put on. Sofia would scream and Rafe would laugh, bundling her up in a hug as the nerve-inducing soundtrack screeched in the background.

So that’s the reason she ended up pulling into the driveway of his house, sneaking in through the side door she knew he never locked, under the cover of darkness.

She wanted to get him back.

Rafe was a home– she could tell by the car and the bike both parked up in the front. Usually in the evening he’d be in the study, probably arranging another property deal.

Sofia padded quietly across the wooden floors, her lips caught between her teeth as she tried to still her breathing. She didn’t really have a plan, just to pop up when he least expected. So she drifted noiselessly through the empty rooms, eyeing the yellow light spilling out of the study.

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He didn’t even realise how dark it had had gotten, nighttime settling undoubtedly on the skyline. Rafe let out a small groan, his eyes straining from the lurid laptop light. Shuffling out of the leather chair, he stood up and headed to the kitchen, ready to finally eat something. He wanted to go get dinner with Sofia tonight but she had work, to his dismay. He hated when she wasn’t with him– the thought of those asshole golfers and cardigan wearing yuppies chatting her up at the bar made him sick. Rafe ignored how he started off as one of those assholes. But that was different, he told himself. He was different– Sofia even said so herself.

Rafe wondered how her shift was going as he exited the study, about to pull out his phone to text her, when he noticed the side door from across the open plan space slightly ajar. The sound of its hinges rattled as it was knocked about by the breeze filtering in. He hadn’t left it open…that meant someone else had opened it. Goosebumps splayed across the sensitive skin on his nape. They could be in the house.

The gun. Shit. It was upstairs. Rafe’s eyes frantically scanned his surroundings, searching for a sign– a dark figure in the corner, a set of footprints, an askew painting. But everything looked the same, as much as it could’ve done in the shadow painted room.

That’s when he heard it. The faintest sound of footsteps above him. Someone was upstairs.

With all that he had experienced–the violence, the bloodshed– Rafe’s brain conjured up equally violent and bloody scenarios of a dire home invasion, a grisly robbery, a sinister payback. God knew he had enough people who hated him to do something like that.

So he approached the stairs with a wary stride, eyes manic and fists balled. The image of the gun laying in his drawer was in his mind. Get the gun and he’d be fine– that’s what he told himself.

So he made a dash for the bedroom. But his frantic steps slowed on hearing a small creaking sound emanate from the slit in the door. They were inside.

Rafe approached the bedroom, his heart galloping in his chest, adrenaline pumping across his veins.

All the heady rush of emotions and hormones slammed into him like a truck when he saw the door peep open, a shadow cutting across the sweep of moonlight.

Rafe just swung his arm instinctively.

His first feeling was confusion, when he heard the little squeak of a scream the ‘intruder’ let out. It only became even more confusing to him when it wasn’t a 6 ft burly guy who keeled down in pain, but a 5’4 wisp of a person.

It took a second for his brain to whirr and piece together what had just unfolded.

“Sofia?”

Rafe’s mouth hung wide open, confusion quickly bleeding into distress.

He’d just…he just hit Sofia. Rafe felt sick, a frigid chill prickling across his skin.

Sofia’s hands flew to her face, her dark curls falling softly into her eyes, so he couldn’t see her expression. She had swayed backwards slightly, catching herself on the door frame.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry, are you alright?”

Rafe scampered toward her, bending down to hover his hands over her face. His fingers carded through her hair, trying to see the damage he’d done.

“Ow,” she whimpered, the sound making his heart vault into his chest

Rafe tried to gently move her hands away, to see her eyes scrunched shut, a bright red mark on the left side of her face.

“Are you ok? Sofia?” He asked, voice breaking, threatening to erupt into tears.

He felt horrible, all the things people would call him (monster, psycho, killer) had gushed forward and inundated him once again. He was reminded of the reason why he was heading to the bedroom in the first place– to get the gun. Imagine if he had shot her? The image of Sofia looking at him, betrayal etched across her features, blood blossoming from her chest, flashed across his mind making him nauseous.

“I’m fine,” she laughed softly, “just trying to get my vision back.” Sofia smiled up at him through her eyelashes with an impish grin, tone humorous.

But he still spiralled into panic, his hands cupping her face, his body bent down to level with hers.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, bringing his lips to the skin he’d hit, that burned an angry crimson. Rafe brushed a litany of kisses across her cheeks, her brows, her jaw, trying his best to kiss it better, to reverse what had just happened.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured against her smarting skin, kissing it again, “sorry,” kiss, “sorry,” kiss, “sorry”.

He only stopped when Sofia’s hands wrapped around his neck, pulling him away from her.

“It’s ok Rafe, it was a mistake. I just wanted to surprise you, sorry for scaring you ok?” She said with wide, imploring eyes, her fingers rubbing little circles into his jaw.

Rafe tried to clam himself down, using the sweet sound of her voice to soothe him. His hands rested on her shoulders, clinging to them like an anchor.

“I’m ok, you’re ok…we’re fine Rafe.” Sofia whispered, words draping over him like velvet.

He didn’t notice when his breaths began to come out as ragged lurches, his chest jerking erratically, his throat confined by barbed wire.

Sofia seemed to notice though, his rapid descent into apprehension snuffing out the humour in her eyes and replacing it with a shining concern.

He never wanted to hurt her– the image of Sarah flailing under the water, Kie’s face strangulated and ashen, his father hunched over, bleeding out to die, projected in full colour on his mind.

So he tried his best to hone in on her voice.

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She was sitting on the cold marble countertop in the kitchen, watching Rafe as he prepared an ice ice pack for her. He was wearing a sweater, the dark blue one she liked.

Sofia was still thinking about his over reaction upstairs. The way his hands shook as they cupped her face, his heavy breaths, his bombardment of kisses.

She kept trying to tell it was fine, that she knew he didn’t mean it, that she knew it was an accident.

But Rafe continued to radiate with guilt. She could feel it even now, with his back turned to her, rolling hot waves of regret emanating from his body.

He walked over, ice pack in hand, almost at equal height with her sitting on the barstool and him standing. Fingers brushing against the her hair, he curled the strands behind her ear, placing the ice on her inflamed skin.

They sat in silence, Rafe focusing on the ice pack and Sofia transfixed on his eyes.

“I won’t sneak up on you again, I promise,” Sofia teased, trying to alleviate the suffocating tension. She ghosted her fingers over the veins of his hand.

“I’m glad you’re here.” Rafe said, voice uncharacteristically serious. He was usually so playful and cocky, but his lips had no smile and his eyes were deep with a stony gravitas.

She wanted to make a joke, something along the lines of ‘well you can’t be too happy, you just hit me in the face’ but she didn’t want Rafe to start feeling bad again.

“Me too,” she smiled instead.

Setting the ice pack down on the counter, Rafe let out a heavy sigh.

“Hey baby, don’t worry ok?” She soothed, her hand resting on his shoulders, squeezing hard.

“I hurt you Sofia. That’s not nothing.” His words were rasped, as if it hurt to say out loud.

Sofia’s eyes flickered between his, her other hand inching up his arm.

“You wanna make me feel better?” She said, voice low and sultry, trying to coax Rafe out of his dread state.

He definitely picked up what she was putting down, his mouth opening slightly as his eyes drank her in.

“Sofia…” he began, tone almost chastising as he tried to step back.

But Sofia’s grip on him tightened. “Shhhh answer the question Rafe.”

“Of course I do.”

“Well then, let’s go upstairs then, shall we?” She murmured, standing up to wrap her fingers around his wrist, tugging him slightly.

She turned around to lead the way, before she felt Rafe’s hand drop from hers. Sofia was about to turn around to face him before she felt his big arms wrap around her waist, hoisting her up into his embrace.

Gasping in shock, her hands flew around his neck for support.

“Changed your mind?” Sofia teased, eyes crinkling in a smile.

“Need to show you how sorry I am,” he said voice low, bringing his lips to kiss her cheek.

“I’ve already forgiven you Rafe.” She said softly, against his jaw.

Rafe didn’t look at her, his face in the crook of her neck, almost in repentance. “I haven’t forgiven myself yet.”

Sofia didn’t know why, but that made her heart break. She traced her fingers over the planes of his face, making him look at her. Her fingertips were feathering and gentle, her touch inviting. She slowly leaned up to brush a kiss over his closed mouth.

She felt Rafe hesitate at first, his body freezing, before his lips dissolved into the kiss, a heady concession of muted passion.

As he continued to pepper kisses across her skin: her lips, her cheeks, her forehead, he moved across to where the couch was, gently laying her down.

The house was quiet and empty– the only sound that could be heard was Rafe showing Sofia just how sorry he was, the night bringing more surprises than Sofia thought it would.

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[cambion-companion]

okay i have an idea if you'd be willing - i think you wrote something similar but aemond and his wife are like super hungry and craving something after spending the night on top of each other but its very late now and they sneak into the kitchen and find a chocolate cake. and she's like overjoyed, very focused on eating the cake so she doesn’t even realize how aemond is getting harder again. Bc he's there, watching her, sitting on the table, eating the chocolate cake and he just *loves* the sight so much lmao

Oh hello! I didn't forget about this request, it's been on my mind for months now and I finally wrote a drabble to sate us no pun intended!

Enjoy some dessert with Aemond

Where Aemond is once again surprised by the hold his wife has on him.

Aemond x wife!reader | smut |18+ only

"I'm famished." You breathed heavily, still straddling Aemond as he looked up at you, his face flushed from exertion.

"I would've thought you sated by now my ember." There was suppressed laughter in his breathless voice.

You rocked your hips experimentally, smirking at the groan it elicited from your husband. "Not like that." You slid your hands behind his head, combing your fingers through the silken hair splayed out on the pillow. "I'm craving chocolate." With you chest now flush with his, you nibbled suggestively at Aemond's jaw, continuing your rolling movements.

"I'm almost offended." Aemond tangled his fingers in your hair, dragging your lips up to meet his in a sloppy kiss as he arched into you. "However I know my place." He kissed you softer this time. "Second to none save for chocolate."

You hummed in contented bliss before sliding off Aemond entirely in one fluid movement. Before he could properly react you snatched your dressing robe from the armchair, swinging it about your shoulders, and hastened out into the abandoned corridor. You could hear your husband cursing quietly from the bed chamber as you continued padding down the hallway along the familiar path to the kitchens.

Aemond followed as you descended the castle steps, making sure to avoid any nighttime guard patrols or other late-night adventurers. He joined you within the empty kitchen just as you finished pulling out the tray of leftover chocolate cakes from the pantry. You shot him a grin over your shoulder as he pressed himself behind you, his hands possessively grasping at your hips clad only in the thin velvet of your robe.

Aemond dragged his lips along the curve of your neck as you took a bite of the cake. "You truly have a wicked hold on me." He let out a small gasp as you pushed back against his groin. "That I would allow such reckless gallivanting about the keep."

You took another bite of the rich chocolate, a coating of icing glazing your lips. "I know. I'm the terrible influence in this marriage." You turned your head so he could capture your sweet lips in a searing kiss.

Aemond's tongue swiped the icing from your lips before delving into your mouth to taste you further. He groaned in disapproval as you pulled away to continue eating your dessert.

"Can you fetch me some milk, my love?" You asked him, gesturing to the ice box in the corner of the room.

Aemond's hands flexed on your hips as he rested his chin atop your head. "Hmm. Perhaps if you ask nicely."

"Please?" You smiled, enjoying the feeling of him so warm and so close.

Aemond sighed a little. "Very well. Only for you will a Targaryen play the milk maid."

"Oh there's an image!" You giggled around a mouthful of cake as he reluctantly removed his hands from your body. "Perhaps we should roleplay such in the bedchamber?"

You heard your husband growl something under his breath but paid him no real mind as you shuffled off your robe, allowing it to pool at your feet upon the cold tile floor before positioning yourself in a kneeling position atop the table's smooth wooden surface.

"You do realize if someone were to intrude upon such a scene I would kill them immediately." Aemond could not contain his arousal as his eye swept over your form kneeling on the table with your fingers in the chocolate cake, your eyes wide as you looked at his attempt at severity.

"I highly doubt anyone would bother us here, my dragon." You sucked your icing-covered finger into your mouth, making sure to not break eye contact. "Especially if we make it clear this room is occupied by those wishing not to be disturbed." You cupped your breast with a hand, leaving a trail of chocolate on your skin.

Aemond's eye followed the movement, his arousal already straining against the trousers he'd hastily thrown on. He moved to you as a cat stalks its prey, ducking to taste where your hand had left the sweet stain upon your chest.

Soon the platter of half-eaten cake was forgotten as Aemond climbed over you, his knees knocking yours apart with ease as you surrendered to his demanding touches.

"At last." He breathed before sucking marks onto the skin of your throat. "Now it's my turn for dessert."

[weirdsht]

hiii! This is my first time asking for a request, Then I could ask for a headcanon or scenario (whatever you think is best), about Cale having a s/o who sings lullabies to the kids (although they are not officially together, maybe a slow falling in love), like children having a nightmare or trouble sleeping and the reader sings them a lullaby and Cale also falls asleep, coming to look for her when he has trouble sleeping.

If you don't want to do it, no problem, have a good week. (and sorry if the English is weird, it's not my first language)

Sleepless Nights & Lullabies - Cale/Reader

it started out when you once mindlessly hummed in front of the children while doing some work

since then they would randomly ask you to sing for them

of course at first it was embarrassing so you opted to just hum to them to not let the trio children down

then eventually you got used to their demands and started openly singing whenever they demanded it

like their little jukebox slave

anyways! aside from noticing your sweet voice, the children also noticed that you seem to have some chemistry with their dad guardian

tbh everyone can see that the two of you are practically smitten with each other

it's just that you and Cale are dense and can't sense the other's feelings

and so Hong had the most brilliant idea!

demand you to sing them lullabies so you and Cale can spend more time

at first it was awkward

you felt like you were intruding on his space

but it didn't take long to become comfortable

it got to a point where Cale's room is unofficially your room too

speaking of Cale, you knew that he likes to sleep but you've never seen anyone sleep faster than him

which makes the two of you opposites because you always have a hard time speaking

mainly because nightmares tend to chase you whenever you fall into slumber

the first time it happened you woke up Cale and you felt so guilty for doing so

however, Cale didn't say anything

instead, he just started sleepily humming while patting your back like a baby

you don't know how, but that put you right to sleep

and soon it became your nighttime routine

you sing the kids to sleep, and then after Cale hums you to sleep

and if one day the kids woke up to Cale cuddling you and kissing your forehead?

no they didn't

[imdoingaokay]

Cullen x f!Inquisitor/Reader - After It All...

summary - after the events of Veilguard, Cullen meets his wife in Minrathous

word count - 900+

warnings - fem!reader, HUGE VEILGUARD SPOILERS (it's just one really big one, but it's still there, please don't read if you don't want to be spoiled!), mentions of children, Inquisitor's race is left up to the reader, some artistic license taken in general + what's going on in the south of Thedas (specifically Ferelden)

a/n - hey guys. been a while. I graduated nursing school and started a job, so I've been a wee bit busy. but obviously, I gotta write. I missed y'all. like- a lot. I may do the other Inquisition romances if I feel like it or if it gets asked, but I needed to write this for my sake. I feel very strongly about how much/little some characters were mentioned lol. anyways, enjoy!

It’s nighttime when she returns. 

Cullen wasn’t sleeping, though that wasn’t necessarily by choice. Aside from seeing her, nothing about this trip was by choice.

He would’ve rather their children stay with his sister and would’ve much rather not have them tag along with Cullen to Tevinter of all places. But with Redcliffe and The Blight… he couldn’t leave them anywhere. Not while she was gone. What if something happened in his absence? He’d… Maker, he knew not what he’d do.

Cullen struggled to leave his siblings behind in Gwaren, but they had shooed both him and the children away.  He could only hope for their safety. 

Still, he held no affection for Tevinter or her people. The way the family was sneered at whenever one of them was to speak, whenever someone threw a glance over to them, it was obvious. The people of Tevinter knew what he and, more importantly, his children were. Then again, maybe it wasn’t the best move to bring the dogs… they were a dead giveaway.

“Wasn’t like I could leave them behind…” Cullen murmured, glancing around the dark room. He shook his head and exited the large bedroom before quietly strolling down the hall.

The house was rented by Dorian, when Cullen had arrived and promptly assumed he was in the wrong place, Dorian ushered him back.

“You don’t expect me to let you stay in some inn, do you?” The magister had scoffed

The only thing that calmed Cullen’s nerves was the mention that they’d be under constant supervision by Morrigan… somehow.

And speaking of Morrigan, Cullen passed by an empty room. Morrigan had popped by and suggested leaving an eluvian inside for easier access, something Cullen shut down immediately. He wasn’t letting some fade demon/spirit/creature come anywhere near his family.

Cullen passed by the bedrooms, peeking in through the cracks and seeing the familiar locks of hair peeking out from under the covers. The children were so excited to be in such a fancy house, after living in the countryside for so long, it was almost like a vacation for the children. Cullen smiled to himself, remembering how the children ran throughout the halls, chasing one another while Cullen followed behind with the dogs. If Tevinter wasn’t such a mess and didn’t hate his love so much, he wouldn’t mind coming up for a vacation occasionally.

Cullen slowly made his way back to the bedroom, his thoughts drifting to his wife. Maker, he missed her. So did the children. Everyone missed her. Her letters were wonderful, but they could never replace the thing they all wanted.

“Maker…” he sighed, leaning against a wall. He hadn’t heard any news, no whispers of death, but… what if…

CREEEEAAAAAK

Cullen shot up, suddenly not tired or worried. That was the front door, he was certain. He quickly went into the bedroom and grabbed his sword before walking back down the hallway, checking inside the rooms quietly, making sure his children were safe before moving down.

He heard the intruder's footsteps and finally thought he got them, jumping out from the corner with his blade pointed at their throat. He’d ask questions. Who sent them? Who knew they were there? Whatever else came to mind.

But his thoughts were all thrown away when he finally saw his prey. Those eyes, those lips, Maker that voice calling for him.

“My love…” he breathed, letting the sword drop down, “Why didn’t you…”

“I wanted to be quiet…” The Inquisitor whispered, watching her husband nearly drop his sword before enveloping her in a tight hug. How long had it been? Weeks? Months? Too long, that was certain. Ever since he had arrived in Minrathous, their communication had been brief, he wasn’t even able to learn of Varric’s passing through her, only through Dorian, who had passed by one day to bring sweets for the children and somber news to Cullen. That evening, it had been a difficult task to explain to the children why Uncle Varric wouldn’t be coming by next summer after all. So much death in so little time, The Blights, the dragons, and with his lifeline off in The North while his nightmares grew worse in The South, Cullen was even more stressed than he was during The Inquisition.

So lost in his thoughts, Cullen hadn’t even noticed the tears that had slipped down his cheeks, it was his wife who, after finally breaking away, wiped the tears with some whispered words of affection.

They stayed like that for a while, in a tight embrace, occasionally pulling away only to be brought back again. And even when they had pulled away completely, it was only so she could put her things down. “We should go to bed…” She hummed, “I think the children will sense us and-” She began, only to be cut off by the pitter-patter of feet and the crying out of The Inquisitor’s other, newer, title.

Over an hour later, after some tears and many kisses pressed to cheeks, noses, and foreheads, the happy family lay together in one bed. The children passed out quickly, leaving Cullen and his beloved again awake.

“We have a lot of work to do…” He whispers, “The South is-” He begins before feeling his wife’s finger on his lips.

“Tomorrow…” She says, “I only want you and *this*-” She gestures to the children sprawled out over the bed, “... tonight if that’s alright. Tomorrow, we’ll…” She yawns, and Cullen smiles.

“I know…” He says, draping an arm over his wife his youngest, who planted themselves in between the pair, “I love you…” He sighs happily. “I love you too.” She smiles and finally closes her eyes. Cullen realized that she was probably exhausted, as was Cullen. So, finally feeling at peace, Cullen closed his eyes and fell asleep almost instantly.

That night, Cullen slept dreamlessly, something he had missed almost as much as he missed her.

[utterlyazriel]

whom the shadows sing for— (and the thief's echoing hymn)

a/n: it's time for some more ✨trauma✨ time to learn ur own backstory tehe <3 feel free to let me know what you think or any future... predictions... you think might be coming...

word count: 3.3k

synopsis: Azriel leaves for Velaris. You reflect on old choices and everything that you lead you to where you are now— and realise it's been awhile since you had anyone to miss. fem!reader, mulan-esque au

—CHAPTER THREE :: COMPANIONS

There's a girl screaming in the middle of camp.

Anguish, a pure guttural agony, litters her voice. She's shrieking, screaming herself hoarse, tortured cries piercing the air as a piece of her identity is ripped from her forcibly. The scream that you know only follows a wing clipping.

Fear rolls through your body, seizing every nerve til your limbs lock up. Your stomach lurches, nausea swimming and threatening to choke up your throat. The screams dive beneath your very skin and make a home there, unbidden.

The screaming isn't stopping and you acutely notice that you're crying because of it, big fat tears rolling down your face as though you're the one in pain, unable to quieten her suffering, because... because...

Because the girl is you.

The girl is you and they had found out somehow and they had come, they had held you down and taken the knife between your wings and starting slicing through muscle and sinew and it fucking hurts, it hurts so much—

A ragged gasp rips from your throat at the slice down your back.

You wake you with a violent twitch.

Your dagger is in your hand in an instant, stored beneath your pillow, always within reach. The cool leather beneath it is a comfort as your senses search blindly for any threat. The rabbiting sound of your heart looms in your ears and you keenly strain your ears to try listen over it.

A threat? An intruder? You're looking for anything hidden in the darkness, while your senses are still swamped by your nightmare. The effects of it are melting away too slowly. Your breath comes too fast.

Shadows loom. You're not sure what is fear is still lingering from the dream and what is real instinct, kicking in to protect yourself.

Worse is, your suspicions are not at all unwarranted.

Around you, the space is still. Dead air trapped within your shelter.

Outside, the howl of the Mother's Kiss sounds again, the rattling wind against the windows somehow grounding you into your home. You're in your home. You're not out in the middle of camp, not held onto that horrid stained piece of earth where all the clippings take place.

You're tucked away in your space, hidden beneath your secret still.

Your chest heaves rapidly, dregs of panic still running through your system. You force yourself to inhale slowly, blinking slowly and letting your eyes adjust to the night. It's still dark.

It's nighttime and you've had a night terror and you're still safe, still just like any other male in the camp.

Behind you, you give your wings a little shiver, just to check.

Still there, still working in every capacity. The relief that pours through you soothes like a balm, heady and overwhelming. You release a shaky breath and curl your knees up to your chest, wings cocooning around yourself.

The nightmares, this nightmare, has been unrelenting for as many years as you can remember. Well, since...

Since twenty six years ago, when you had made a very difficult choice.

Perhaps the only time you'll ever be thankful for being a bastard in this camps is when it had granted you the privacy to make such a choice. Nobody cares if a bastard child dies, male or otherwise.

It had made you dispensable and therefore, unnoticeable.

Nobody noticed when one more begging child, one more hungry face, went missing. And certainly nobody paid any mind when one more turned up again — hair cut down to the scalp, bleeding in places from the shoddy cut, and a gritty determination in their eyes.

No, in fact, the only time people started noticing you was when you started tasting the mixture of blood and dirt, knocked down in a fight you knew you had no chance of winning.

You had started it. Pushed your way into the group of boys and shoved one, hard. Fought back as best you could with half formed fists that quickly got pushed into the mud and held there as the boy you shoved wailed on you, hit after hit after hit.

By the time he had been pulled off you, your mouth was a river of blood and your face ached in a way you had never felt before.

The very bone of your skull felt bruised. Your nose was definitely broken. You wanted to cry but even scrunching your face up hurt too much. It was impossible to think anything beyond pure pain.

The group of boys were sneering as they left you in a crumpled heap on the ground, kicking mud in your direction and hissing the word bastard.

But not one mention of you being anything other than that.

Just a bastard. No slighted comment at being a female, at not being worthy of a fight for that reason.

In the Illyrian Mountains, being a bastard gave you very little in the manner of food, things, and choices. If you managed to survive past childhood, that is.

If you could scrape around for food to fill a belly that never seemed to stop growling and manage not succumb to icy embrace of the winter in the mountains, there was very little waiting for you. Even less so, if you weren't a male.

Males, at the very least, could fight for a sliver of something better.

And wasn't that just the Illyrian way? If you can fight, if you can beat and claw your way to the top, it's worth something. It's the only way to gain respect. To earn it, even when you came from nothing.

For you? Living past childhood would mean getting your greatest love torn from you.

You had seen half a dozen clippings before the age of eight. It was said that other camps littered throughout Illyria tended to be more gracious. Did it in private. Healers on hand. No excessive force.

But you'd believe that when you saw it — clippings were brutal.

Females having experienced their first blood were dragged out into the middle of camp, some kicking and screaming, others a ghostly quiet. Everybody watched and nobody stepped in, no matter the pleas.

You, no older than eight years old, had stared at the bloody patch left on the ground til your vision had blurred. It was crimson, mixing with the dirt of the earth. Beneath it was this horrid scorched brown colour.

Old blood.

The final straw for you had been Adesi— Lord Mylind's own daughter. You're not sure when or why some part of your had become convinced that she might be spared. That because her father held rank and could bend certain rules, that she might escape the fate you so feared for yourself.

She hadn't. Lord Mylind had done the clipping himself.

And she hadn't cried or fussed. There hadn't been a struggle, just this soft weeping as she kept her eyes on the ground, every pained sound that passed her lips lined with a bitter resignation of knowing this was always coming.

It had stoked a simmering ember within you — a furiously upset flame that burned hotter and hotter, til you were trembling with the force of it. Forced to watch yet another girl stripped of her freedom. Polished up for breeding stock.

If Adesi wouldn't be spared, neither would you. The future, you could see, was growing impossibly bleaker and would continue down that path if nothing radical appeared to change its course.

You had cut your hair that same very night.

It was a shit job. Trying to get it as short as you could manage without a mirror or proper tools to do so proved incredibly difficult. The lack of proper shelter didn't help either.

Bandages you were stock-piling for Mother knows what were used to bind your chest. Then you spent the rest of the night time scouring the mountain-side for those bitter herbs on the mere hope that the rumour that they would keep you from bleeding held an inkling of truth.

The next day had been the day you got into your very first fight.

The first of many. Lord Mylind didn't take kindly to bastards, especially when you paled in comparison to the size of the other novices. You had been refused to be allowed to join training the first time you had tried, his cold eyes narrowed with a cruel curl of his upper lip.

But you had, perhaps, what no one else did.

No other way forward. No other choice.

Every part of you that yearned to keep your beautiful wings, to keep your freedom, your autonomy, was channeled into your intense drive. You would not be so easily dissuaded.

You trained day and night, working up weak muscles til they hardened beneath your skin. Without proper training, it was nowhere near as efficient as it could've been. There was no-one there to soothe the aches of your growing pains, nor the sores that came with hitting the ground time and time again as you honed the balance and fluidity of your body.

A season passed. Your drive did not falter— not when half a dozen more females got clipped in that same period. A wedge drove itself between your ribs, attempting to crack open your chest; a heavy guilt at what they experienced... what you could not yet prevent.

It pushed you to train harder than before.

It took seven whole months of solitary training before Lord Mylind reluctantly allowed you to join the ranks— forced to when you disarmed and wiped the floor with Brudam in the ring to prove yourself.

By that time, the list of clipped females had climbed to nearly fifty. You kept track of every single one, forty-eight notches carved into your soul for every person you failed to protect from a terrible fate.

It killed you having to bide your time.

To train alongside the males of the camp who detested you as they did any such bastard. To hear their uncaring jeers of the clippings as they flaunted their own wings proudly. There was no shortage of things to stoke the fire within you, fury burning through every cell in your body. There was no distraction from the ultimate goal.

But between Lord Mylind's abysmal training, geared specifically at you, the purposeful way other warriors wouldn't hesitate to kick you while you were down, and having nobody else in your corner, you had no other choice.

Routines formed. Train. Eat. Train. Scrounge for ingredients, for knowledge, anything on healing tonics. Fail miserably at making anything. Chew the bitter herbs. Train. Sleep. Wake. Train.

Loneliness became a familiar companion.

Every creak in the dark was a potential threat that came looking to see if they could knock the unwelcome bastard out of the ranks. You learned to not just how to duel, but how to brawl and win. To fight dirty. To come out as unscathed as possible.

Your first bleed did eventually come, bitter leaves be damned.

They had done a decent job. They had given you a few crucial years to establish yourself as a worthy fighter, not to be messed with, and enough time to build the shelter you now called home.

It had been a saving grace. If you had been out and exposed, if any of the males in town came sniffing for a fight and felt entitled enough to challenge you, the lie that kept you safe would've come tumbling down like a house of cards.

All those years turned to ash. Wasted. For nothing.

And the only thing that terrified you more than that was... what you were certain they would inflict upon you if they ever found out.

In some of your worst nightmares, they do much worse than just clip you. They take them from you— saw them from your back, splintering bone and tearing muscle, not caring if you cry or scream — not caring if you die.

Around you, your wings give a shiver as if they could feel the ghost of pain that still lurked from your nightmare. You curl them up tighter around you. A blanket of softness, of warmth, finally breaks the chill on your skin.

Routine was easy. Your terror was manageable based on the familiarity of your life. The fact that you had nobody to lean on meant everything, every pillar of comfort, of tough love, of the extra push when you needed it, came from within.

Slipping away from training to deal with the excruciating agony of your cycle was a necessity, even if it pained you to do so. Avoidance of the Blood Rite was born from that too. It was too great a risk— too much time spent that you couldn't ever be sure wouldn't overlap with your cycle.

Besides, you already had the biggest target on your back — the label of bastard giving you more than your fair share of enemies.

They would hunt you down on the first night. That you had no doubt about. The killing would be slow and merciless. To you, the Blood Rite was just another brand of nightmares.

All this dread had become second-nature, stitched into the fabric of your angry and miserable life which seemed to exist against all odds. You were cursed with an ambition that would not let you rest. A compassion that drove you to keep training, to help others more than just yourself.

You were singular. A lone ranger who relied on nothing but your own instincts to keep getting you through the day.

You were solitary. You were lonely.

And yet, within the last month, something else had barrelling into your life and altered its course.

A Shadowsinger.

A Shadowsinger with hazel eyes that dance with mirth and a rueful smile that comes out far too easily for the battle-hardened soldier you know him to be. He's a conundrum. A mentor and a damn hard-ass when it came to training but also someone you could trust.

Calling him a friend felt too close.

A tenative ally, perhaps. A companion, even.

And the fact you can trust him — the fact that you do trust him — is perhaps the biggest change of them all.

All of your routines have been suddenly altered.

Because now, unlike ever before, there's someone there in the morning. Someone to notice your absences. To come looking when it takes longer to drag yourself out of fitful sleep. To comment on the circles under your eyes and roll back the punches accordingly.

He brings the things you need, a sudden plentiful stash of ingredients you wouldn't have dreamed of affording. The good stuff that makes a difference in the potency of a healing tonic. In turn, your feeble attempts at concocting have begun to produce far more useful results.

He brings food too.

No point in all this training if you look like your bones will snap. He had said, almost dismissively as he summoned the abundance of food from within that pocket in the shadow realm. You had been too startled by that alone to question how much he had brought with him.

A fucking feast. Enough food to last you at least half the year, if you stretched it.

Some withered, bitter part of you had shriveled up when you saw it. Your mouth watered and your stomach ached and yet still, you couldn't help how you snapped at him.

I don't want your pity.

Azriel had leveled you with a stare, his shadows roaming about his shoulders like wisps of smoke. He tilted his head to the side an inch, as if trying to pick apart the reasoning for you being so standoffish.

It's not a handout. It's part of our deal. Like I said, there's no point training you if you're starving all the while.

You bristled as his tone, even if there wasn't a hint of condescension to it. It was strong and sure.

When you still hadn't moved, Azriel had spoken once more. It's okay. To eat. I understand that generosity is not something you are familiar with but not eating will not help any of them. Getting stronger will.

He had spoken as if he knew that exact reservation on your mind — the sheer unfairness of having a platter served up to gorge yourself sick on, when so many others... So many others had nothing.

Eat. Azriel had murmured, turning for the door. He had paused just like he had on that first ever night, one scarred hand on the door. Please.

A particularly loud whirl of the Mother's Kiss outside shakes you from the memory.

You blink hard. Your wings twitch and curl in even closer as you realise you've been looking at the door. Looking at where he had stood all those nights ago.

That conversation had been in the first week of knowing Azriel. Back when you were still so wary it was impossible to not raise your hackles when he came knocking at your door, no matter how friendly he had seemed. Friendly, but not harmless you knew.

It took time to stop being constantly on guard around him. But if your lack of trust and general frostiness bothered Azriel, he never let you know.

And now... now you've known him for nearly a month.

A month of routine with him in it. With sparring in the morning, tiring yet rewarding drills beneath the winter sun, and quiet conversations in the evenings, his hazel eyes competing with the crackling fire with how they set your heart ablaze. A month of companionship.

A month, the first month in years, not spent entirely alone.

In the cool night air, knees pulled to your chest, something tugs at your throat at the knowledge he won't be back in the morning.

Last night, after an evening spent in comfortable company where you finally heard him laugh for the first time ever and nearly melted at the sound, he had told you he would be returning to Velaris.

Temporarily, he added on hastily at the flash of surprise in your eyes.

Business with the High Lord. Reports and assessments to deliver. I's to dot and t's to cross.

He assured you he would be back in a day or two, certainly no more than three. He had left ample food and generous tonic ingredients, with all the assurances to continue practicing during the evening.

With no Azriel, you had no reason to avoid training with the rest of camp.

Maybe that was why this particular nightmare had plagued you tonight. Something curdled up in your gut at the thought of returning to your old routine— another part relishes in how you will get to stand your ground as a better, hardier warrior now. To prove yourself worthy of the specialty training you were receiving.

You huff out a small sigh in the dark.

There's no telling what time it is. You force yourself to sit back, easing back into your bed gently til you're lying back under the makeshift duvet you have. It's moth-eaten and seen better days. You snuggle beneath it anyway.

It's been a long time since you've missed anyone, you think forlornly.

The thought surprises you. Staring at the ceiling, your brows furrow and you close your eyes but the truth of it rings clear throughout your very being. Undeniable.

The Shadowsinger has somehow wiggled into your life, burrowed into your routine and has begun to mean something to you. And when he's gone, you... miss him.

Your eyes flash back open, glaring up at the ceiling, and you huff as if that will change that fact.

Rolling over, you pull the duvet in closer, your arms tucking into your chest snugly. Your bed is a bit too small for someone with wings and they ache because of it. Sleep trickles back into your system, dragging your lids down.

As you fall into sleep, some part of you realises, faintly, that you haven't had anyone to miss in a long, long, time.

This time when you dream, it’s of hazel eyes.

[NEXT PART: FRIENDS]

—

tags below!

@strangerstilinski @janebirkln @itsswritten @mischiefmanagers @hnyclover @waytoomanyteenagefeels @idkitsem @illyrianbitch @jeweline16 @fightmedraco @iamjimintrash @maeandering @spideytingley @aneekapaneeka @cassianswh0reeee @viciane @astarlitsoul @mybestfriendmademe @archiveofcravings @reputaytionn-13 @bionic-donut @chessebookgirl @itseightbeats @littleblackcatinwonderland @twsssmlmaa

[honorhearted]

The look on Mat's face was snide -- no surprise there -- and for one brief moment, Ben spared him a cautious sidelong glance. After all, he didn't trust Cauthon not to drive a knife into his spleen (present injury aside).

“i hope you still have that letter, tallmadge. or else washington might dismiss you altogether. it was bloody important.”

The threat made him snort. If Mat actually knew the levels of his service, then he wouldn't be nearly so quick to throw out such accusations -- or perhaps he would. The man seemed relentless with his poor attitude.

"I still have it," Ben coolly assured him. "It's in my pocket. Do you truly think me so foolish as to discard potential evidence? It was the only thing worthy of note, not to mention, immediate value on your person."

Mat glowered at him -- his disdain wasn't exactly subtle -- and after a moment of hesitation, Ben finally turned and led the other man inside the tent. Washington was seated at his desk, bent over a row of documents that he was diligently perusing and applying notations.

Whenever he lifted his dark, appraising eyes, Ben was quick to offer a bow. "Your Excellency," he began, "this is Mat Cauthon...he claims you've been expecting him."

"So I have," Washington allowed. One of his faint, cryptic smiles came into place, and then he rose from his desk to better assess the other man. "It's my understanding that you have something for me, Mr. Cauthon?"

honorhearted​:

Although Ben’s initial instinct was to reach out and offer a hand, something about Mat’s quiet determination told him it would be best to remain silent, separate, until he’d become a little less grudging… Not that he could blame the man. Were he to presently be sporting a knife wound, he knew he’d be beyond contentious.

Thanks for the stitches?

Elliott laughed at that, incredulous while drying off his bloody hands. “And thank you for waking me up well past my bedtime,” he wryly returned. “Ain’t no harm done – not from you, anyway – but Tallmadge, you’d better have a damn good reason for running someone through the next time you come knockin’ on my door.”

“There isn’t a door on your medical tent,” Ben grumbled, to which the doctor made a dismissive snort.

“I’ll be on my way then,” Elliott muttered. “Take care of yourself, boy. Make sure that major doesn’t get all trigger happy.”

And with that, he was gone. Ben fell silent again while Mat started washing the blood from his limbs and clothes. Though after a moment, the other man stepped forward with his hand extended in introduction.

“You are the general?” Ben asked, incredulous. He looked down at Mat’s offered hand, but was far too astonished to reciprocate the handshake. “What could you possibly want from His Excellency? It’s as you said: he’s smart, so he won’t want anything to do with the likes of your band.”

“take me to him, will you?”

Ben didn’t like this. He didn’t trust Cauthon, and with a growing scowl, he ultimately decided, “Fine. But if you’re met with the end of a noose rather than an alliance, don’t say I didn’t warn you. As one of his aides, I am afraid I must insist upon being present at all times.” Nodding his head, he indicated that the other man follow. “Word to the wise? Take him seriously. His Excellency doesn’t respond well to those who believe America isn’t its own country, and that he isn’t a true general. But then, perhaps you already know something about that. Your reputation isn’t exactly stellar either.”

Sparing Mat a sidelong glance, Ben fell silent and led him the rest of the way across camp. All at once, Washington’s guards stepped forward to thwart their entry.

“It’s fine,” he assured them. “I take full responsibility of this guest. Please tell His Excellency that Major Tallmadge is here with the general of the Band of the Red Hand. Cauthon is requesting an audience.”

One of the guards disappeared into the tent to deliver the news, then after a few moments, he returned and nodded them in.

“Remember,” Ben instructed Mat, “be respectful. That’s the only advice I can give.”

he could handle nagging from a woman. a pretty thing that wouldn’t stop rattling on and on about something had one thing in her favor. a pretty face meant a month for kissing, too. and you could shut her up with a good kissing. tallmadge on the other wouldn’t shut up, wasn’t pretty, and mat would rather die than thinking of kissing him. so he went on and on about respect. washington demanded respect. well, he was sure that washington demanded order in his camp, any good general would. and that hadn’t exactly been what tallmadge had shown when he went swinging at him in the dark. 

clearly tallmadge didn’t know much. he didn’t know who he was. well, he knew the reputation that he had so carefully constructed for the band. everyone assuming and second guessing. in a war like this it was easy to get mixed up with who your allies were. real ones were hard to come by. especially when you were a bloody patriot. it looks like they caught him on a good day. because the last thing he wanted to do was get tangled up in a war. he would rather be sitting in some tavern with a pretty girl or two to dandle on his knee, dicing away that week’s pay. but here he was. and what did he get in return for this? well, tallmadge had stabbed him! 

the band was waiting for his word. the talk with washington was supposed to be quick. an exchange of information. washington knew that the band was on the side of the patriots. the people who mattered on this side did. he could say that. but he didn’t want to hear any more of tallmadge droning on and on about something that he hardly cared about. there was an eagerness in him to get this done, to get back to his men, to get moving where he was needed. 

a battle waited for them. a turning point in this bloody war, that’s how he viewed it. and they’d help the patriots turn the tide, they’d come out on the other side winning. his men always said something like that. crazy as it sounded but he had not lost one battle that he had led his men into. if tallmadge knew anything about respect maybe he might do himself a favor and show him a little bit. 

he gives him a glare before taking a step back so that tallmadge can go ahead of him. he can be bloody respectful when he wanted to be. for those who had earned. well, ben tallmadge can lead the flaming company if that’s what he wanted. puffing out his chest like that and acting like he knew better than him. that bloody knife in the dark proved otherwise. 

“i hope you still have that letter, tallmadge. or else washington might dismiss you altogether. it was bloody important.”

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

How good or bad are the skellies eyesight? From the strongest eyesight to the weakest.

Mafiatale Papyrus - He can see the wing flaps of a butterfly. That's how good his eyesight is. He has the eyesight of a bird of prey, both in day time and night time. Creeper was recruited by the mafia as a kid for this special ability, and before his brother.

Fellswap Gold Sans - Despite the ugly scars on his face, Wine has an excellent vision and knows how to use it. His eyesight actually works like a cat, absorbing light to see better. He also has night vision. It's really, really hard to take that guy by surprise. Added to that, he has excellent hearing and smell.

Farmtale Sans - He has a terrifying good vision, both in daylight and nighttime. He can see if a fox is messing in his farm from the other side of the farm and no intruders have a chance to go unnoticed with him on the watch. Added to that, in the night, his eyes glow bright white and it's creepy as hell. No one wants to meet him in the middle of the night.

Horrorswap Sans - The famine didn't deteriorate his eyesight, quite the opposite actually. His vision is sharp, it's the vision of a predator. He can see threats coming from far away and his eyes can see all the hints leading to someone hiding from him.

Underswap Sans - He has excellent eyesight and never had any problem with it. He needs to have it with his job as a police officer. It's difficult to escape him and he's super good at finding clues.

Underfell Sans - He has good eyesight, not really had the choice to develop his skills if he wanted to survive. He's really good at noticing details when a threat is coming.

Horrorfell Sans - His vision stayed the same as his younger self, maybe a little less powerful due to his aging, but that's all.

Dancetale Sans - He has a really good eyesight but doesn't do much of it. It definitely helps him to understand how to do some dance moves faster though.

Undertale Sans - His right eye is not good, but he compensates with an extremely precise vision from the left eye. Sometimes, people under his care think he can see behind his head because Sans knows whatever they do.

Outertale Papyrus - He's average. He doesn't have any problems and his vision never moved much.

Dancefell Papyrus - He's average as well. His sight is nor good or bad, it's normal. That's a shame though, he would have loved to have laser eyes like Mettaton.

Ink - He's average. He just has the attention span of a goldfish and so it doesn't matter how good he can see actually. Because he won't see a bull charging at him even one meter away from him. It happened. Twice.

Undertale Papyrus - He's average. He had some troubles growing up with his eyesight, but everything is fine now. He can sometimes act like he doesn't see much, but that's all for fun.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - He's average. He had little problems growing up but he also had a big brother with a lot of money to fix everything as soon as the problems got noticed. He's fine now.

Outertale Sans - He can see from very far away, to the point it's a bit scary. But he sees quite bad things at 2 inches of his face. That's fine though, in space, when you notice threats last second it's usually too late.

Underswap Papyrus - He has a slight myopia and has to wear glasses. He's just not good at remembering to wear it, as glasses are hard to wear for skeletons and he hates it.

Dancetale Papyrus - He is a bit astigmatic, but that's barely noticeable. He's reading with glasses, but other than that, he manages quite fine.

Farmtale Papyrus - He is astigmatic and wears glasses most of the time. His vision is stable for a few years though, which is good news. He hopes it will get better with time.

Dancefell Sans - He has had myopia since he was a kid and wears glasses most of the time. It never got better and actually, that keeps getting worse as he gets older. But he's used to it by now and kinda jokes about it, betting how many points he lost every time he goes to check his vision with the doctor.

Swapfell Papyrus - He has quite important myopia as well, but he refuses to wear glasses because that's boring and he doesn't like having something on his face. He is used to it though, so he doesn't care. If fate wants him to see shit, he will see shit.

Mafiafell Sans - He has terrible eyesight because of his untreated myopia. He refuses to see a doctor about this and gets angry when people ask him if he's blind or something. He has an extremely developed sense of smell though, as strong as his dogs.

Disbelief Papyrus - Delta took a knife in the left eye in his last fight with the kid. He's partially blind from this eye and is struggling to adapt. He can still see on the sides, but he has a black spot in the middle of his vision. The other eye is average.

Swapfell Sans - He's blind in one eye, but that's actually from his years as a baby bones. He had plenty of time to adapt and for him, he always had only one eye. It's not really a disability anymore, as Nox learned to protect his blind side. He is very observant and compensates with extreme adaptability of his other senses.

Mafiafell Papyrus - He's blind in one eye after he got shot in the face, but he compensates with an incredible eyesight from the second one, to the point it's hard to tell he can't see from both eyes. Torpedo shows no weakness.

Underfell Papyrus - He's blind in one eye and the other is not so good either. That's one of Edge's rare weaknesses. He compensated enough with an excellent sense of smell however for this to not get noticed by anyone, not even his brother.

Mafiatale Sans - He's blind in one eye, and the other is not doing good. Some human threw acid at his face once and it damaged both his eyes. It's a shame since he had a really good eyesight before and he's still so frustrated about it.

Horrorfell Papyrus - He's still blind in one eye, and with the famine, it got worse. His eyesight is quite bad, but he manages. He had to fight a lot during the famine years, and several humans and monsters managed to hit him in the head. His scars are way worse than what they used to be. But he still acts like it doesn't matter. No one needs to know he can't see good.

Horrorswap Papyrus - Added to his myopia, he lived in the dark for fourteen years. He was not ready to see the Surface, physically I mean. He damaged his eye sockets when he reached the Surface because he didn't know he needed some adjustment. His eye sockets are now extremely sensitive to sunlight and even if it's getting better, he still can't stand very bright light. He often wears sunglasses and has horrible headaches when he stays outside for too long.

Horrortale Papyrus - He fought with Undyne several times Underground and one of those fights left him with severe head trauma that he didn't fully recover from. His loss of eyesight is a consequence of that, but also the struggle to keep his balance, which kinda worsens his back problems. Willow can't see very well, but he has glasses on the surface that are helping with the problem.

Error - He's technically blind in both eyes. He sees the world only by its code, so he can still see, but all in black, red, and numbers. It's tiring him a lot and that's why he spends so much time in the antivoid. There's nothing that can overwhelm his vision there.

Horrortale Sans - He's blind in both eyes, thanks to Undyne. He can only see thanks to Toriel's ingeniosity and quick thinking when she saved his life Underground. His only eye is fake, it's just a ball of energy Toriel managed to make self-sustaining and linked to his own soul. His vision is based on magic and soul flux. He can see most living beings, including vegetables, but will struggle with everything else. He adapted with excellent hearing, touch, and sense of smell though and it's actually difficult to tell he can't really see. It's also one of the reasons he gets disoriented that often.

Killer Sans - He's completely blind, from both eyes. He uses his other senses to adapt to his world, to the point it's hard to notice he can't see. He made sure of it. He uses soul localization and magic to make his way through the world.

[natalievoncatte]

Something, some instinct, told Lena that she wasn’t alone. She wanted to blame it on the whisky, but it was better to check. She grabbed the gun from its hiding place beneath a pillow, where she kept it in case of an intruder.

She wasn’t sure why she did that now; she was, in theory, safe from her greatest enemy. After all, Lena had murdered him in cold blood. She’d killed her own brother for a monstrous lie, and while there was little to mourn -the man he was died years ago by his own hand- it hurt. It hurt so much that the pain squeezed out of every pore, until she awoke in the depths of the night thinking the hot stains on her cheeks might have been from crying blood.

The one person she had truly trusted, respected, revered-

(desired)

-was a lie, an illusion. At least Lex had, at one point, been real.

Lena scouted her apartment. It didn’t occur her to check the balcony until she was about to go to bed. She was on the thirty-sixth floor. No one could get up here.

Kara was outside.

She hasn’t landed; she was hanging in the air with her cape lazily swirling against her legs as she hung in the nighttime breeze. She was far enough away that Lena couldn’t get a read on her.

“What do you want?”

She drifted closer, in that unnerving way she had.

“Hi.”

Lena sighed, and waved a dismissive hand.

“Go away, Supergirl. I’m not in the mood for another speech.”

Lena turned back inside, but stopped when she felt the soft gust of wind. Kara was a few feet away from the balcony now, arms wrapped tightly around herself.

She hated how things had changed when Kara told her. She no longer saw Supergirl, just Kara in a costume. It was impossible not to see her, and yet for three long years she’d done just that. Blinded herself. Refused to see the bitter truth. All she’d ever wanted was a real friend

(lover)

who respected and admired

(and loved and cherished)

her and with whom she could share those feelings, and she’d really thought Kara was it. She was the best friend

(the one)

that Andrea and Jack could never have been. She believed that so deeply.

(she doesn’t want me the way I want her)

“I’m not here to give you a speech.”

Lena looked up sharply.

“Then what? Here to stop me? Foil my evil plans? I’m a villain now, remember.”

Kara’s face turned hard. “Don’t lie to me.”

Lena barked out a bitter laugh, feeling that need rise inside her, that anger. She had lost everything. The love of her mother, the protection of her brother. No matter how wealthy she was, she could never have those back. There was no price for what Lena wanted.

“How dare you say those words to me,” Lena hissed. “You’re the biggest liar I’ve ever met. Everything you’ve ever said to me is a lie.’

“That’s not true.”

“You told me you’d always protect me. Who’ll protect me from you?”

Kara looked away, shuddering as she breathed, or silently sobbing. Lena smiled a thin smile, glad to twist the knife.

(stop it stop it stop it stop hurting her)

“Something happened to me tonight.”

“I don’t care.”

“A fifth-dimensional being came to me and offered to let me change the past. I could change whatever I wanted.”

“I don’t see any changes,” said Lena.

Kara shook her head. “His gifts were all poison. Every time I tried to fix what happened, it turned out wrong. I tried and tried and tried until I realized what was happening.”

“Which is?”

“I was supposed to learn that I can’t just push past my mistakes. I have to own them and accept the consequences. There’s no magic wand that can fix us.”

“There is no us, Kara. We weren’t meant to be.”

“How can you say that?”

Kara drifted closer, sank down so they were face to face with the balcony railing between them.

“How can you say that?”

“It’s obvious. Whatever this was, it wasn’t meant to be. We’re just too different.”

Kara shook her head.

“When I think of all the things that had to happen in order for me to be here right now, it boggles my mind,” said Kara. “Two species from two different galaxies evolved so close together. Just the chances of that happening are incredibly small, and…

“And then my people had to find this world, and Kal-El’s parents had to choose it for their son. This world, this world specifically, and then I had to get stuck in the phantom zone on my way here. All of those things and a billion others all had to happen in perfect, crystalline order just for me to walk into that office and see you.”

Lena has gone still, listening. Kara looked at her so intently, so reverently, that Lena felt something strain inside her, stretch against itself to the point of breaking. It took all her many years of carefully honed composure to keep herself still.

“Every moment I had with you was a gift. Every single one. There are times when… there are times when I think that if I could somehow have saved Krypton, I don’t know if I could, because it would mean losing you. I don’t know if that’s a choice I could make and I don’t know what that means.”

“That’s lovely,” Lena said, trying and brutally failing to keep her voice from cracking, “but it doesn’t change anything.”

Kara let out a soft, choked sound.

“I know that. I know I ruined everything and I can’t fix it. I just needed to say this because it needed to be said. I’m not here to ask you to forgive me. I’m here to ask you to forgive yourself.”

“Oh, please.”

“I can’t stop you.”

Lena blinked. “What?”

“I can’t stop you. I can’t fight you. I know that now. It doesn’t matter what you do, I won’t ever hurt you again. I don’t want to confront what that means.”

“That’s rich, considering that the last time we had one of these chats, your sister pointed an orbital fusion canon at my head.”

“If she’d fired that thing,” said Kara, “there would be no more satellite, and no more DEO. I would shatter the foundations and pull down the walls. I would rain destruction on whoever hurt you. I’ve seen what happens to me when something happens to you. I never want to see it again.”

Lena leaned on the railing. “Go away.”

“What you have planned, you need to stop. I can’t stop you, and if I can’t, no one can. Please, Lena. I’m begging you, don’t do this. Don’t become someone you’ll hate just to hurt me. I’m not worth it.”

“Not everything is about you, Supergirl.”

“Please. Don’t take away everyone’s choice. I know what that’s like.”

“Oh?”

Kara nodded, and in the moonlight, her tears sparkled on her skin. “On Krypton, we were assigned to guilds as children. We had arranged marriages. Everything about our lives was planned from birth. Here, people have so much choice. Yes, they make mistakes, but people choose life and art and love. You can’t take that away over me.”

“It’s too late,” Lena said, her voice cracking, finally. “I’m doing it and if you won’t stand in my way, it’ll be done.”

Kara took a deep breath.

“Okay. I guess I should go.”

Lena rocked back.

“What? No. I’m going through with the plan.”

“I know. I won’t fight you.”

Kara turned, about to rocket off into the sky.

“You can’t just leave!” Lena screamed, her voice ragged from liquor and tears.

Kara stopped.

“You’re supposed to fight me. You’re supposed to yell at me and tell me the truth, that you knew I was a monster all along, that you were just staying close to me to watch me, to get to Lex. You’re supposed to fight me! You’re supposed to fight me!”

“No.”

Lena let out an incoherent scream and balled her hands into fists, meaning to slam them on the balcony, but they struck the implacable flesh of Kara’s chest. Powerful arms gathered around Lena, sheltering her from the nighttime chill and the voiceless judgment of distant stars.

“I won’t ever hurt you again,” Kara murmured. “I promise. If you’ll let me, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you for what I’ve done.”

“Why?” Lena whimpered. “Why won’t you just fight back?”

“Because you’re just like me. We’ve both lost so much. We both don’t want to see anyone else die.”

Lena should have shoved her away, demanded to be set free, screamed, protested, shoved. Instead her arms wound around Kara, drawn as if by gravity, and Kara’s gentle fingers began to stroke through her hair, her warm breath on the crown of Lena’s head.

“Come back to our life, Lena. To our friends. Come home.”

“I killed my big brother.”

“I know. I failed you both. I’m Supergirl. I’m supposed to find another way, a perfect solution.”

“I had to. He’d never have let you live if he knew how I f…”

Lena caught herself as the last moment.

It was Kara who sobbed now, her entire body shuddering. So much power with so much tenderness, her vast crushing strength kept at bay as she held Lena like one of the most precious of treasures.

“In one of the timelines that Mxy showed me, you… you told me how you felt as you were dying. I saw you die so many times, I can’t do it again.”

Lena tried to swallow, but her throat was too dry.

“I didn’t get to tell you before you died. I was scared. I never thought you’d want me like I want you.”

Lena went stock still, feeling Kara’s shuddering breath against her as she held her own. She couldn’t look up, afraid that if she did, this would be a cruel nightmare and she’d jolt awake in an empty bed and a penthouse full of bitter memories.

“Kara,” Lena began, finally. “Kara, what are you saying? What do you mean?”

“It’s so hard to say,” Kara sighed, and then, almost to herself, “even if I don’t have much left to lose.”

“Say it.”

“I love you.”

Lena’s heart soared, and a harsh sob exploded out of her. She’d dreamed of those words, longed for them, needed to hear them. So many times, Lena had almost let herself believe it.

“I want this to be real,” said Lena. “I just don’t know if I can forgive you, Kara. It hurt so much.”

“Can we try?” said Kara. “Can we give it a chance? Can you give me a chance?”

Lena finally looked up, and when she saw those tear-stained blue eyes filled in equal measure with terror and hope, she knew.

“Yes,” she said, simply.

Lena looked behind her, and was suddenly full of revulsion and regret. She hated this place.

“Can you take me back to your loft?”

Kara lifted her easily into a bridal carry and into the sky.

[reason-with-the-underdog]

the day that alhaitham leaves his bedroom door open (pt 1, belongings edition)

while they're both in the house is the day that kaveh realizes that their relationship isn't just real, its serious

alhaitham already has offered kaveh his house, the common spaces, a room of his own, but now allowing kaveh to intrude into the last private space?

haitham's giving kaveh access to his whole life 😭

ok but like kaveh's so indignant over alhaitham demanding kaveh clean his room and then gets distracted by alhatham's beautiful heirloom tapestries he just shoved into his closet like no that's a travesty??? that the surprise being let in gets forgotten (according to keikaku)

and then much much later, after kaveh got to tease haitham for his love poetry and surprisingly messy & doodled-on class notes, its quiet again, its nighttime and kaveh and alhaitham are dozing off in bed when kaveh sits straight up like WAIT A MINUTE

you showed me your poetry as a distraction!! (it worked) but like wait do you realize what you're offering me? this seems like it was a hasty decision maybe i should let you like, think about it more, take it back if you need to, its ok, i dont mind

and haitham's just like "you're overthinking this way too much" and then sighs and starts quoting his teenage poetry at kaveh to show his sincerity-- (this does not convince kaveh of his sincerity but does distract kaveh once more) but then the next morning he wakes up and

the door is still open and some of alhaitham's childhood stuff has been moved out to the study and kaveh has to take a moment to process that like yeah, this is for real. this is for life, even. a commitment to a shared future together

kaveh looks like the kind of person to accumulate lil tchotchkes and knick knacks but after selling his house he had to pare down to whatever he could carry and got wary of buying big things that would be hard to move (since living with alhaitham is temporary anyways)

kaveh gets REALLY weird about gifts and haitham is bothered (does he feel guilty about accepting the gift? what if haitham pretended kaveh was doing him a favor?)

but then he realizes its bc kaveh's still thinking about his future move out, gets bothered but can't explain why…

haitham buying kaveh an oversized trunk...its not judgemental or disapproving... but it gives kaveh the freedom to finally relax just a tad, to slightly loosen the tension that he's been holding himself under ever since childhood honestly

so him going furniture shopping with alhaitham was a big step, but haitham knows he can't rest easy yet bc kaveh's justifying it as "for the house" aka for alhaitham

when kaveh starts buying multiple fruit bowls (for every room!) and brings home those two dutars… even if he hasn't realized it yet, he's started thinking of "alhaitham's house" as "our home"

anyways haitham is this painting on straight or crooked??? its driving kaveh nuts!

thanks @kurigohan0909 and @bloggingonmain for the wonderful discussion <3

[imtrashraccoon]

Ahem You're welcome. :3 But seriously, I wish I could have spent a bit more time on this because I looove making Horror spooky. He's the best!

@owl-bones

First, Previous, & Next Day

Bad Sansuary II: Horror - Prey

Word Count: 1,314

You woke with a start, feeling like your heart was going to drill a hole through your ribs. It was the middle of the night and the fire had long gone out. To top it all off, the usual forest ambience had gone silent, almost as if something horrible was out there.

Another scream echoed through the darkness and you quickly pulled the blanket up over your muzzle. The scream sounded almost like a woman's, but more guttural, like whoever was out there had been attacked or was in excruciating pain.

When the scream came again, you couldn't sit still any longer and crawled out of your lean-to. Bracing yourself on a tree, you managed to stand up, being careful not to put any weight on your injury. You needed to find out if someone was hurt or at least make sure the camp was safe.

At first, you tried to hop on one foot to where you knew the supplies were kept, but soon gave up and just crawled the rest of the distance as it was easier. To shed some light on the situation, you lit a lantern and opened the hood to illuminate the whole camp.

Nothing seemed to be amiss. The supplies were how they had been left before you went to sleep and there was no sign of intruders. You crawled over to the fire pit, setting the lantern on a log to free up your hands. The screams seemed to have stopped, at least for now. If it wasn't a person, what could make such horrible noises like that?

You took a deep breath and exhaled slowly in an effort to calm your pounding heart. There was no immediate danger and the camp seemed safe for the time being. The unfortunate part was that if there was a person out there, you couldn't do anything to help them in your condition.

It was a little weird that Maul hadn't gotten up to investigate though. Even if he was a heavy sleeper, anyone would have been woken up by the sound of someone screaming bloody murder. Actually, the longer you thought about the situation, the more it didn't sit right with you.

When you went to check on him, your heart sank to find his lean-to empty. His blanket had been tossed aside as if he had been in a hurry, but his greataxe was still propped up against a nearby tree where he'd left it. Maybe he had gone to investigate the screams? It was a little odd that he hadn't brought his preferred weapon along though.

Since you were in no position to go looking for him, you opted to stay up and see if he came back on his own. After crawling back to the fire pit, you managed to start a small fire after only a few minutes of trying which soon grew to a roaring blaze. As well as providing more light, you took comfort in the knowledge that the fire should keep any dangerous animals away.

An hour passed before the nighttime ambience resumed and the lingering eerie feeling passed. You made sure to refuel the fire when it began to go out, in hopes that Maul would notice the smoke or light and come back soon. If you weren't so worried about him, you might have actually enjoyed the peacefulness of it all. Unfortunately, your anxiety kept you from remaining idle for very long, but once you found a long, sturdy stick, you were able to get around easier. Even then, there wasn't a whole lot you could do without losing your balance.

You eventually just sat down to wait and prop up your ankle. After a while of staring into the fire and listening to the crackling embers, the fur on the back of your neck suddenly stood on end. You froze, getting the distinct feeling of being watched. You began to scan the surrounding forest, slowly turning your head until you were able to look behind you.

For a moment, you didn't notice anything, but you just couldn't shake the uneasy feeling. Slowly, you drew your dagger, keeping it close to your side for the time being. You turned back around, scanning the trees again, only to hear a heavy footstep from behind. You whipped around only to make eye contact with Maul. He definitely hadn't been there before, but in the moment you were relieved he wasn't someone else.

"Oh, there you are. Are you alright...?"

You trailed off as he took a slow step forward. It was then that you noticed his eyelight was different. It was smaller and the center had narrowed into a slit, making him look even more menacing than he usually did.

Your eyes widened as he began to silently move closer. Each step was deliberate, calculated, like a predator sizing up its prey before an attack. As he drew closer, you glimpsed some small whisps of purple energy surrounding his blood red eyelight. His body language nearly screamed aggressive as if every fiber of his being was pulled taut, like a bowstring, ready to spring forward at a moment's notice.

You got to your feet, leaning on your staff for support. "Maul, what's the matter? Can you hear me?"

He ignored your questions, not even giving any indication that he understood a word of what you had said, only continuing to move closer until he was barely a few paces away.

You started to back up in an attempt to keep some distance between you and your comrade. You didn't know what to do. Even if you weren't injured, you knew that you stood no chance against him in a head to head fight. He may not have muscles, but he possessed an almost unnatural degree of strength and his size completely dwarfed your narrower frame.

Then you tripped and toppled backwards. From this angle, Maul only loomed over you even more and you felt a fresh wave of panic well up in your chest.

"Hey! S-stay back!" You suddenly realized that you had dropped your dagger and in lieu of a weapon, bared your teeth in a futile attempt to look even remotely threatening. "I'm serious!"

He slowly crouched down, crawling forward as you attempted to scramble away. He put a stop to that real quick by grabbing hold of your good ankle and pinning it down to the ground. His claws pressed into your skin through your fur and you couldn't suppress a whimper of pain from escaping.

He suddenly lunged forward, his other hand closing around your shoulder, and roughly shoving you onto your back. You tried to fight back, but his bones proved too solid and no matter how much you kicked and clawed at him, you only managed to hurt yourself. If anything, it only seemed to excite him. He leaned closer until your faces were nearly touching, letting out a low snarl, and in one last ditch effort to keep him away, you pressed your free paw against his face.

His eyelight briefly contracted as you made contact with his skull, pausing for a brief moment. Then, his attention seemed to shift and he pressed his nasal cavity into your palm, inhaling your scent. His other hand came up and he pulled your paw away with a surprising amount of gentleness. You let out a soft whimper as he peeled back what was effectively your last line of defense. His eyelight darted to your face and you noticed an odd glimmer in his gaze.

"Maul...?"

He tilted his head at the sound of your voice before leaning even closer, burying his face in the scruffy fur on your neck. You squirmed, but your attempts to escape only caused him to hold on tighter. He shifted his body weight, effectively caging you beneath him as he laid down.