#i hate breaking promises BUT WHERE’S THE FUEL

[sibbydoo]

can someone please pay me to finish that one merthur piece I wanted to do where Merlin’s a dragonlord, knife and bow master, and protecting his king and Arthur’s looking all cool with a crown and sword

[reidmania]

I MISS YOU IM SORRY | spencer reid

good riddance x spencer reid one shot series masterlist!!

summary; Spencer calls after being broken up for a month.

warnings ; fem reader, hopeful/happy ending, angst, exes to lovers, mentions of arguments, breakups, miscommunication, avoidant reader, loving spencer, break up bc reader pushed him away bc of self doubt, pretty tame. i love this i think

an ; RAHH fic twoooooo ehehehe. risk is coming soon i just had to pump out the angst really quick ok bare w me!!

You said, "Forever, " in the end I fought it Please be honest, are we better for it? Thought you'd hate me, but instead you called And said, "I miss you", I caught it. You said, "Forever, " and I almost bought it I miss fightin' in your old apartment. Breakin' dishes when you're disappointed. I still love you, I promise. Nothin' happened in the way I wanted. Every corner of this house is haunted And I know you said that we're not talkin' But I miss you, I'm sorry

The call came as a shock. When you were holding onto the doors of your pantry, leaning back slightly as your eyes skimmed over the contents of it — Which was not a lot. You we’re thinking about that fact you needed to go grocery shopping.

How long could you avoid that?

It started right after you and Spencer broke up, where you refused to go because of the chance that you might see Spencer there. It was right between yours and his apartment so the chances weren’t completely low — and normally you and Spencer did the grocery shopping together.

It would normally consist of you dancing around the store picking up random things and Spencer watching you fondly as he pushed the cart. He would mutter something about what was healthiest and you would hum approvingly then grab the opposite of whatever he suggest because it ‘tasted better’ He would chuckle and press his lips to the top of your head.

You wanted to relive that so bad that the idea of being inside the shops without him seemed so wrong. It felt like doing something behind his back. Like watching an episode of the show you two were watching together without him. It just felt wrong.

So you decided you would go to a different shop, an hour drive away. Just to be safe, but who just had time for that?

Which was how your pantry had gotten near empty.

You still had the big bag of his coffee beans that he left here. The ones you weren’t a fan of buy it didn’t matter because Spencer would compromise and just buy both, or just yours. You had use all of yours and started using the ones he left here.

They left a bitter taste on your tongue and a sweet sensation down the back of your throat, they were strong and kept you awake for hours longer than your normal ones did — but weirdly enough; they felt like home.

The bag was brand-less, and you should’ve memorised what it was you were sure you knew. You just couldn’t remember.

How were you suppose to ask? Call him? Message him? Pop by his house and ask. You were sure if he got any soft of contact from you— about anything, you would be blocked in milliseconds. The feeling that thought provided made your stomach tighten more than you’d like to admit.

You almost stumbled over your own feet when you closed the pantry as your phone started to ring, you saw it light up with a contact but your mind paid little attention as you answered, not even actually looking at your phone, your attention elsewhere.

“Hello?” You muttered as you walked towards the coffee machine you and Spencer had decided to get as an anniversary present. To fuel both your coffee addictions. You shoulder held your phone against your ear as you grabbed the bag of coffee beans — Spencers coffee beans.

You heard a harsh breath on the other side of the phone, “Hey.” The voice. His voice. Tired and groggy as if he had just woken up but you knew him well enough to know he didn’t. You pulled your phone away from your ear as your mind clouded foggy. Your eyes danced over his contact for a moment. He was calling you — He called you. it sent familiar butterflies to your ribcage.

“Spencer?” You exhaled, despite already knowing it was him. You wondered if maybe this was some prank, if he was just calling because he needed something or maybe to call you and degrade you over every mistake you made in the ending of your relationship — you deserved that.

He had every right to hate you for how things ended, he had every right to hate you, period. You had assumed that was how he felt towards you. Hatred. You knew he loved you throughout your relationship, that wasn’t something you had to question but the idea of that still being the case after everything unfolded the way it did.. It didn’t even seem fathomable.

“Hi” He repeated. His voice was low and quiet, you didn’t know what that meant and it was driving you insane. Your feet pattered around the house suddenly feeling cold in the kitchen. Nothing but memories fogging your mind every corner you looked — that didn’t go away as you moved around the house. It was filled by him and it was consuming you whole. 

You let out a heavy breath. “Do you need something?” It didn’t come out how you wanted it to. It wasn’t harsh or anything but your voice weakened half way through your words making embarrassment creep up the back of your neck.

The other side of the phone was silent for a minute, making anxiety pool in your stomach. Your head tilted as you sat on the corner of the couch, wrapping yourself in the blanket on the couch — the one you used more often than you’d like to admit, since some night sleeping in the bed that was suppose to be shared with Spencer felt all too consuming, the way his scent lingered faintly over the sheets and his little nothings covered the window sill, his jacket still hung up in the closet.

“Spence are you okay?” The nickname fell from your lips before you could try to stop it. You heard a muffled sound on the other end of the phone making your stomach twist. Slight worry and confusion filled the wrinkles by your eyes as you squinted slightly.

“Ye- Im.. Im okay” He breathed out his voice heavy and filled with something you couldn’t place if you tried. You were sure it was an emotion you had felt since you felt a sick feeling of familiarity in your abdomen. “I just- Can we talk?” He asked.

Your eyebrows furrowed as your knees pulled to your chest. “Okay. What do you want to talk about?” You asked, in your mind there was a point to this conversation, there was something specific he needed to talk to you about or why else would he call. He wouldn’t, you thought.

“No-Not like that, i just- I just want to talk to you, about anything. Whatever you want I just—” There was a pause, his voice got quiet, almost a whisper, “I miss you.” The words that left his lips buried themselves deep inside your chest, building themselves a home there.

Your head span. He said it so quietly you were scared you might’ve missed it if he said it any quieter. But you didn’t, you caught it. A deep breath left your chest as your hand came to your forehead, your mind was so focused on the fact that, he missed you. He called because he missed you. You almost forgot to answer him. You figured if he said the comment so quietly, maybe he didn’t want a reply on it, so you continued on with the conversation as the words interfered with the rhythmic beating of your heart.

“What coffee beans to do you buy?” You settled on. You heard him chuckle on the other side of the phone before passing a comment asking ‘why? You hated them’ It made your heart flutter uncomfortablely. The two of you continued talking about coffee beans for ten minutes before he muttered about how he had to go, you knew it was probably work related. But god he sounded so sad saying it.

“Spencer?” You asked softly, your voice coming out quieter than what you expected. You heard his soft hum on the other side of the phone. You didn’t want to admit how much you missed him, how your entire being craved him every minute of everyday regardless of what you did — nothing in the world could fill the him-shaped- hole that took up the space of your gut.

“I’m sorry” You apologised and you hoped it was clear you were apologising for everything, for the arguments, for the breakup, for pushing him away for no real good reason beside your own self doubt. It was the sorry you were too proud to mutter out a month ago.

There was a moment on the other side of the phone where you were almost convinced he was going to hang up — you worried you brought up what he didn’t want to talk about.

But instead, “I miss you.” He said louder this time, as if he believed you didn’t hear it the first time. The words made your stomach clench tightly and your muscles both tighten and relax at the same time.

You sigh, you should have shut up. He had to go, you know that but the words came out honestly as “I still love you” You said. You wanted to slap yourself in the face, now you really weren’t gonna be surprised if he hung up and blocked you.

There was a heavy breath, you couldn’t tell if it was good or bad. “Well-“ He huffed, “If you still love me, and- I still love you..” He muttered out intentionally, hoping you caught on to what he was insinuating. Your mind however was captivated by the fact that, he still loved you.

“We should probably talk” He finished when you didn’t, “Please?” It was thrown in there both to use manners and to show how badly he wanted this. You weren’t ever gonna say no in the first place.

“We should. Do you need to go grocery shopping?” You asked, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you almost smiled. You could almost imagine his confusion.

“Um— I guess that depends —Do you?” He asked. You huffed out a small laugh, nodding your head absentmindedly as you realised he couldn’t see you. “Do you still go to-“

He cut you off, “No. No i started going to the one across town, about an hour away” He said, honestly. You head tilted slightly as you realised he started going to the one you were going to. The conversation continued as you both ignored — or forgot the fact he needed to go.

“Why?”

“So you didn’t feel uncomfortable if I was there when you were” He said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. It made your stomach scrunch up and your chest to bruise your ribcage as the beating of your heart only increased.

“Let’s go grocery shopping, at our shop. Then um— you can come here and I can make you coffee?” You suggested slightly awkwardly, as you worried about the chance of rejection and the embarrassment you would feel.

“It’s a date.” He smiled, you could hear it in his voice.

“Okay.” You exhaled out.

[itsthewritergal]

Please can I hold you? - Bucky.Barnes x Reader

Hello my loves,

I'm trying to be better this year at writing.

Summary: Y/N leaves, and Bucky tries his hardest to fix it.

TW: Kissing, trauma, family trauma, shouting, swearing, (let me know if I've missed some)

January 1st, it was supposed to be their year. They had promised each other that this was it, Bucky and Y/N. Bucky had promised no more long missions away from Y/N, Y/N had promised that she would move in with Bucky so they could finally spend more time together. A good year was what they wanted, what they deserved, what they needed.  But here they were screaming at each other over Bucky not kissing Y/N at midnight. Y/N had explained to Bucky multiple times that she was at the edge, she couldn’t cope anymore with arguing, and whilst Bucky never admitted it, he hated it just as much, if not more than Y/N. Yet here they were. 

“And another thing, I didn’t even want to go to Nat’s stupid New Year’s eve party” Bucky screamed ‘I wanted to be at home with you’ was the bit he failed to include in his insult. 

“You told me you wanted to be with people you loved on New Year’s Eve, I thought it would be fun” She shouted back “You think it was fun for me? Because it fucking wasn’t. All I wanted to do was come home, the whole night, but you wanted to keep drinking” She seethed, Bucky wanted to tell her it wasn’t true. He didn’t want to drink, but he stupidly got caught up in the party. 

“Now you’re going to get at me for drinking? Like you don’t do it every single weekend” He shouted, “Thor never brings that fucking mead, I deserved to have a nice night” He was being mean intentionally, but he couldn’t stop. 

“I never said you didn’t Buck” She said her voice suddenly quieter, Bucky should have noticed it was because she was getting upset but he didn’t. 

“Do you have any idea how hard I’ve been working? I just wanted one nice night” Bucky should have stopped himself, he knows he should stop but he couldn’t. He was angry at himself for not putting his foot down and saying he wanted to spend time with just Y/N. 

“One nice night?” Y/N parroted “The nights we have aren’t nice? Is that what you’re saying?” 

“No! You’re twisting my words” Bucky snapped, he spoke with insecurity but it came across as anger and Y/N didn’t like that 

“Because I’m the bad guy right? James Bucky Barnes can’t put a foot wrong, but I can. That’s all I do right?” Y/N said, her fears coming to the surface. The insecurity was all from her messed up childhood, Bucky knew that from their late night chats, when they’d lay next to each other and confess everything, but he didn’t realise that the fear was seeping into their relationship. 

“That’s not what this is about” Bucky said realising suddenly how far he had taken the fight, and how distraught Y/N was becoming 

“Isn’t it?” Y/N snapped, her eyes locked onto Bucky as a target.

“You’re making this worse than it needs to be” Bucky said, unknowingly adding more fuel to the fire 

“Yeah that’s me isn’t it? Making everything worse. Don’t worry Buck, I get it” She snapped turning away from Bucky 

“Where the hell are you going?” He called after her 

“Downstairs Buck, I need some space away from you right now” She stormed out of their bedroom and down the stairs. Bucky sat down on their bed with his head in his hands, he had just fucked everything up. 

Taking a deep breath Bucky decided to set an alarm for 10 minutes, and once it had gone off he would go and speak to Y/N calmly about his feelings. That was how they were going to fix it. He knew he had messed up but he would fix it. 

Y/N stood in their hallway, and listened to Bucky close their bedroom door. She knew she had blown things out of proportion, she had made things worse. The little voice in her head told her she had messed things up seriously this time. There was no coming back from this. Bucky hated her, she knew that much. The thought along was enough to almost break her, pulling on her trainers she left the house silently, following the little voice down the streets. She twisted and turned around the streets she used to love walking with Bucky, but now they just felt like they were taunting her as she remembered the kisses they had shared at the bus stop, and the stray cat they had wanted to adopt by the street corner.  She couldn’t cope with it, so she began to run. 

The wind blew in her ears, the kind of fierce that stopped her from having to think, it was dark and the street lamps did little to ease her discomfort. She was on her way home, in the desperate hope that Bucky was asleep, or at Steve’s or Sam’s. She had no idea of the time,  having left her phone at home in Bucky’s jacket pocket most likely, but she sent a silent prayer to the sky that it was late enough that Bucky wouldn’t still be around. She couldn’t face him, not after everything she had done. Her mother was right, she wasn’t made for relationships, she would always mess them up, and now she had screwed up the only good thing she had going for her. This was it. She was done. Y/N didn’t notice the way her hands shivered a little with the cold biting wind, with her furious mood and growing insecurity she had forgotten a coat.  As she turned onto her and Bucky’s street the tears started again, this really was the end. Her and Bucky were about to be done, finished, ended. 

So much for their year. She mused to herself silently, revelling in the cruel twist of fate, her mother was right. 

Pushing the handle of the door down quietly, in the hope to not wake Bucky if he was in, Y/N creaked the door open. She took a shaky step into the house, listening out for Bucky. When she was satisfied that there was no sound of him she closed the door behind her and took off her shoes. 

“Y/N?” Bucky’s shaky voice called out, she froze. “Baby?” He said coming into the hall, Y/N put her hand back on the door handle, she was ready to run again, this was not a conversation she was ready to have. 

“Don’t you dare ever scare me like that again” He said wrapping his arms around her tensed body, Y/N kept herself tensed, she was ready to run if she needed. 

“I know you’re scared, I know you think you’ve messed this all up but I swear to you this whole argument is on me” he said refusing to let her out of his embrace, 

“Bucky stop” she said quietly 

“I’m sorry” He said dropping his arms, she looked up at him with red eyes “Could you come and sit down in the lounge for me?” He asked 

“I should go” 

“No” Bucky said “You’re going to come and sit down and we are going to talk about this, because we are bigger than your insecurities and we are going to fix this” he said, 

“Oh,” Y/N said “oh” She repeated once the words had settled into her head “You aren’t breaking up with me?” 

“Come on doll, come sit down for me?” He said 

“Ok” She said, following Bucky through their house. 

Y/N settled herself into an armchair, where she could curl her legs up underneath herself. Bucky opted for the sofa opposite her, picking up on the fact that she didn’t want to touch him just yet. 

“Before we start, the next time you need to get away you tell me where you’re going. I was terrified doll, I know the kind of people that are out there and if you need space, please let me come with you. I promise I won’t walk beside you or speak to you but I need to know you are safe.” Bucky said “Please?” 

“I’m sorry Buck” She said,

“No apologies. We have to make mistakes to fix them for the future yeah?” He said 

“I don think I can do this Bucky. All your friends hate me, I invited you to a party you didn’t want to be at, I asked you to cut down your missions. Everything I do, makes me the issue in this relationship” She said, 

“That’s not true, everyone loves you—”

“No they don’t, they put up with me” 

“No, no, Y/N. Please don’t do this. I know you’re spiralling, I know that you’ve always been made to believe that its your fault. But I swear to you this one is on me. I wanted to spend New Years Eve with just you. I wanted to kiss you at midnight, but I fucked up. I got drunk and neglected you. You should have been my priority at midnight, not that stupid drink” 

“I should’ve let you have fun” Y/N said 

“No, I should have kissed you” Bucky said, his tone was final and Y/N didn’t want to argue anymore. 

“I didn’t deserve it” 

“You don’t have to earn love” Bucky said, moving to the carpeted space in front of Y/N’s armchair, taking Y/N’s hands in his he pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles “I love you, I want to spend my life with you and I will spend every single moment apologising to you for the way I acted” 

“I’m sorry for saying all those mean things Buck” Y/N said “I didn’t mean them I just wanted to make myself the bad person so you could hate me. I wanted you to hate me” 

“Why did you want that?” Bucky asked after pressing another kiss to her hand 

“So you’d end things, so my fears could come true. It’s sadistic, but I guess I’m always just waiting for the end so I just wanted it to happen. Like ripping a bandage off” 

“Oh Y/N” Bucky said gently “You never have to be scared of me leaving. We will always work through our issues, you’re my life. You’re my world, this is it for me.” 

“So you’re not waiting for me to fuck up so you can leave?” 

“No, I’m not” Bucky said 

“I’m sorry” she whispered 

“No more apologies” Bucky whispered “Please let me hold you baby? We can talk more in the morning I promise. But right now I just need to hold you”

“You never need to ask”

[galaxygirl8880]

@nerdpoe I saw ur krs doesn't get instant au and i wrote something short for it 👉👈

There are no thoughts running through Raon miru's head as he stared at the rubble in front of him.

At his human. Cale, who is inhaling raspy, short breaths. There is blood pouring out of his mouth. He looks like he is in pain.

How-

What just happened?

They were at camp. Everything was peaceful. Choi hah was sharing stories of his homeland, everyone was telling jokes and laughing and singing songs. There was- an earthquake? The mountain must have been unstable. The prince said there was an abandoned mine nearby that needed to be sealed off because of rising bandit activity. Cale had only accepted because Raon, Ohn and Hong wanted to go on a vacation-

It was supposed to be an easy, fun trip. Then they noticed the shaking and the falling rocks and not even Choi han could have helped without making it worse. He had panicked. He was relaxed and happy and wasn't thinking properly when the Boulders started falling.

Cale stumbles the slightest bit and Raon is the first one to get to him. The dragon lowers him down gently with magic as Ron starts checking his vitals, getting him to breath.

Raon miru is ashamed to say that there was a moment of silence where no one could move. Once Cale is cleared for transport, the dragon gets ready to teleport everyone back home.

It feels like his ears are stuffed with cotton, the only thing in his line of sight being Cale covered in his own blood. Cale does not fall unconscious until he is laid back in bed and a healer is called. But he does not speak. And Raon does not know what to think.

---

The dining hall is dead silent. Cale is sleeping and Jack had been called to keep a close eye on him.

Raon would love to be by his human's side and count the seconds until he woke up again but...

Cale saved them.

(Again.)

And he did it using- well. That's what raon wants to know. And he wants to know so he can ban Cale from using it ever again.

Raon miru would do anything to never hear that sound come from Cale Henituse's throat ever again.

Cale is not one to cry. He is known for his levelheadedness. Even in situations where a normal man would break. Its one of the reasons why he is so dependable, trustworthy, the shield of the roan kingdom. (His human hates that nickname but it doesn't mean it's not true in a way.)

In that moment of weakness, cale opened his mouth, let out the most gutteral scream-

and decimated the entire mountain.

'indescribable. Full of anguish and fury and sorrow.' Is what the people that were with Cale that day agreed on when reporting back to Alberu. A scream that wouldn't belong anywhere but the funeral of your most precious person.

A scream that fuels Raon's drive to be stronger. So that Cale will never be in a situation where using that is the only way out.

Raon hears Choi han make the same promise to himself later that day while at Cal's bedside. While Raon, Ohn, and Hong are trying to distract themselves by drawing together (it's not working). He knows that the other two heard it as well by the determined look they all shared and he knows that they are thinking the same thing.

---

When Cale woke up, (A few people cried. Choi han included.) he was banned from talking by Jack and Ron and Eruhaben and raon and Rosalyn and the kids and-

Cale was not allowed to talk.

Meaning he had to listen to everyone lecture him while being unable to retort. He was given a pen and paper that was mostly filled with apologies and attempting to avoid any questions about the mysterious ability. Cale could only eat soup for the time being because of the internal wounds in his throat. Ron stuck to sweet, room temperature tea for fear of the acidity of his usual blend aggravating his throat more.

Eruhaben and Ron drilled it into his head that he could never use that ability ever again. (Cale privately apologized in his head because he would do so in a heartbeat if necessary. The ancient dragon and assassin pretended as if they didn't also know this.) Hong thinks he heard Ron and Cale have a heart-to-heart. Although it was Ron questioning him and fast responses in the form of writing for Cale.

Alberu did not mention the reports of citizens in the nearby town being scared of the scream that came from the forest. The sadness some felt from the sound. His royal highness feels a bit guilty for being thankful that he did not have to hear Cale's ability.

Rosalyn was quick to create a device so Cale can communicate better, something to play the writing outloud. And if she spent a bit of extra time in Cale's room where she braided his hair, sharing new stories about her siblings when asked, then that's between them.

---

I feel like if roan has a version of sign language then everyone would make the effort to learn it. Even though Cale can still technically speak, no one wants him to strain himself. (Vitality of the heart fixed most of it but they weren't hearing it. He still gets phantom pains sometimes so Cale is quietly grateful for their support.)

[strawberryspence]

Because I am obsessed with the famous trope here’s another one that kept me up all night.

Steve and Eddie dated right after Vecna in ‘86 and it’s perfect. They date each other and it’s like two puzzles clicking together. But they’re young, foolish and they both have mountains of trauma. And sometimes, the passion and love, just isn’t enough to keep a relationship going.

They have a messy break up that has Eddie packing all his stuff up in ‘88. Eddie goes to LA or New York, either way that’s where he gets discovered. He then goes on to write some very angsty and angry rock/metal music about the break-up that gets him up on the map.

Steve hates it. He hates it with every fibre of his soul because it’s one thing when you and you ex still have the same friends and have to be civil with each other, but it’s a whole other thing when you open the radio and this man you dated, this man you loved and cared for and failed is just out here singing it for the whole world to hear.

And yeah listen, it’s petty and dumb. But Steve writes his own fucking songs, it’s not the direct response to Eddie’s song but it’s close. By that time it’s already ‘90 and Eddie’s made a whole name and career out of their relationship. Steve writes the songs, he sings, and he sends the damn demo to almost fifty different companies. And he gets picked up by one company.

Steve takes the pop star route, and with his looks and his somehow amazing vocals, by ‘94 Steve’s on the charts with Whitney and Mariah. The whole Party has solemnly promised to not get involved with their petty songwriting fighting anymore. They also haven’t spoken in person in almost six years, and the only way they communicate now is through the freaking songs.

There’s not a lot of overlap with the rock and pop community, and no one notices it until ‘05. It’s one fan that makes this one blog post talking about this weird freaky coincidence in Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson’s songs. It becomes a whole thing, like someone from Hawkins pulls out the yearbooks and finds out that they could’ve known each other. Their faces are splashed together into every magazine and celebrity entertainment shows.

They don’t say anything about it. No one comments about it for a few years and it infuriates the public even more. The next time Steve comes out with a song, Eddie comes out with another song a few months after and it’s once again a literal conversation about their relationship.

The whole thing continues until ‘11 and by then there’s blog dedicated for all the clues. It’s now a long running thread, and it gets updated when there’s another clue to this massive confusing puzzle. There’s a whole subsection with names of every Party member and how they connect the two artists together. There’s freaking flow charts and pictures and family trees.

It only ends when Eddie finally posts two pictures on Twitter. The first one is taken backstage. All you can see is Steve’s back, but you will know it’s him because of his hair. He’s standing at the side of the stage, and on the stage is Eddie Munson singing. The second one is a picture of Eddie sitting in a couch as Steve looms over him, hands crossed on his chest. Eddie’s signing his own album with a smirk, while Steve glares at him. If you zoom, you can see the sign on the album saying, “To Steve. This album is for you.”

The caption says: “Me and my biggest fan. Circa 2004.”

Steve replies to the original post saying: “You’re sleeping on the couch tonight.”

Eddie deletes the post and reposts it with: “Me and my wonderful, gorgeous, talented husband. I can’t believe I am married to THE Steve Harrington.”

It’s the first time the term “break the internet” is ever used.

Turns out, they were just writing the songs to spite each other and to add fuel to the fandom fire. (In an interview, Eddie says, “It’s our foreplay.” and Steve doesn’t talk to him for a solid 30 minutes for running his mouth. It only lasts for 30 minutes because Eddie made it up to him by using his mouth for something else.)

[unreliablesnake]

Withdrawal (Dominique Luca x reader)

Summary: Weeks without sex make you grumpy and needy.

Note: Don't look at me, I was bored at work.

Warnings: MDNI. Mentions of fingering and pregnancy.

You were alone in the locker room at the end of your shift when Luca walked in. He flashed a smile at you before opening his locker and changing his shirt, a series of actions that was perfectly normal in this room. He took off the old one, then spent a good minute or two looking for a fresh one that was obviously right in front of him.

“I hate you,” you mumbled loud enough for him to hear you.

With a laugh, he walked over to where you were sitting, standing in front of you with his hands stuffed into his pockets. Just two colleagues talking, nothing unusual. “What have I done?” he asked innocently, his blue eyes fixed on you with that mischievous glint.

“Three weeks, Dom. Three.”

“You can’t be that desperate.” When you hooked your finger under his belt to pull him closer, your free hand pushing up his shirt so you could place soft kisses across his skin, he let out a laugh then gently grabbed your chin to make you look up at him. “You know the rule.”

“Come over tonight. Don’t make me beg,” you added with a small smile.

Luca crouched down in front of you and steadied himself by putting his hands on your knees. “I love it when you beg for something,” he pointed out, but when he saw the angry look you shot his way, he let out a sigh. “I’ll be there. Happy?”

And so in the evening you were wearing a set of lacy lingerie you had picked just for him, completed with the black dress he loved so much. If he still wanted to play his stupid game with you after seeing you in these, you would sure as hell break up with him, no matter how much you loved him. According to him, refusing to have sex with you for weeks was his way of teaching you patience, but if anything, it made you extremely frustrated, which happened to affect your work performance too.

Every time you snapped at someone from the team, Street made a joke about how you needed to get laid. And every time he said that, you wished you could have just strangled him on the spot. That goddamn handsome smile of Luca’s was only fuel to the fire too, and you wanted to yell at him right in front of everyone, telling him it was his fault you were so grumpy.

You didn’t know what took him so long, but despite the promise to be there by six, he was nowhere to be found around eight. You were planning to change into something more comfortable when you heard the key turn in the front door, which soon revealed your boyfriend whose face lit up at the sight of you. Without hesitation you rushed over to him, your arms immediately wrapped around his neck as you pulled his face down for a kiss.

“I love you too, baby, but we need to talk,” he said as he let you go and took a step back.

We need to talk. You never liked that sentence. Hell, nobody liked that sentence. Your smile disappeared without a trace before you bit on your lower lip and nodded, urging him to go on. Luca took your hand and led you to the couch, making you sit down in the middle before he sat on the coffee table in front of you. For a while he didn’t say a word, only toyed with the remote that he picked up after taking a seat.

But then he let out a sigh and reached into his pocket to pull out a small box of chewing gums. “This thing between us,” he began slowly with his eyes fixed on the plastic box, “it works, right? It’s not just me thinking we’re good together.”

A frown formed on your face upon his words for a moment. “Good is an understatement,” you offered with a smile as you reached out to envelope his calloused hand with your delicate fingers.

He let out a quiet chuckle before his gaze slowly turned to you. You tilted your head to the side as you studied his expression, having a hard time figuring out what this conversation was about. Was he about to break up with you? It didn't make sense, although the lack of sex in your relationship could point in that direction. Did he not love you anymore?

Before you could get lost in your spiraling thoughts, he squeezed your hand to get your attention, then handed you the plastic box he was holding. “Thanks, but I'm good,” you told him softly, but he shook his head and moved his hand a little to make you take it.

You took the box and opened the lid to get a chewing gum out of it. A part of you hoped this would finally make him talk, but you weren't ready to see what was inside. Because there was no chewing gum, there was only a ring in there. Your eyes widened as you looked over at him, and when he nodded with a smile, you took out the piece of jewelry.

“That's why I was late. I wasn't sure if I should ask you, if our relationship was at this stage already, but when I drove past this jewelry store, I felt the need to stop and take a look at the rings,” he explained.

There was a wide smile on his face that reached his eyes, showing how happy he was at this moment. You couldn't hide your own smile either, so while he struggled to finally pop the question, you looked down at the ring in your hand. It was white gold with a small stone in it; the perfect choice for you. Luca wasn't the type who would try to buy your love with expensive things, which was one of the things you loved about him.

“What do you say?” he asked you hesitantly.

You raised an eyebrow as you looked him in the eye. “You didn't ask me anything.”

He took the hint and within a second he was kneeling in front of you, nesting himself between your legs while he wrapped his fingers around your hand. “Will you marry me?” You nodded without thinking, and soon your head was pulled into a passionate kiss while his other hand moved up your thigh. “I’m lucky to have you,” he whispered against your lips.

When his finger pulled your panties aside, your breath caught in your throat, but when he pushed his finger between your folds, you couldn't bite back a loud moan and a string of sentences as you begged for more. He let out a quiet chuckle while he pushed you back on the couch and dived between your legs to place soft kisses along your inner thigh.

After weeks of withdrawal, it was so damn nice to have him touch you again, to feel his lips trailing across your skin. You were on cloud nine and you didn't even want to return to reality just yet. But the universe had other plans, because the alarm on your phones went off just when you got close to your climax.

“We gotta go,” Luca noted once he read the message.

Nodding, you straightened up on the couch. “You go ahead, I'll change into something more comfortable.”

But he only shook his head before he stood up and extended his hand to help you up. “I'll wait,” he said.

“They'll be suspicious if we arrive at the same time.”

“We just got engaged. They would find out sooner or later anyway.”

He was right. This wasn't how you wanted them to find out, but maybe not making a big deal out of it was the way to go. So you gave him a quick kiss then headed to the bedroom to find something casual to wear. You knew you were both in a hurry, but you couldn't stop yourself from staring at the ring with a wide grin on your face.

This man was the love of your life and there was nothing he could have done to get rid of you now. You were forever connected whether or not he wanted it. The question is, who's gonna be more surprised in the end. You after he proposed, or him when you finally told him you were pregnant.

[moondirti]

DEE IK THIS IS SO OFF THE BAT BUT IMAGINE RIDING MIGUEL’S ABS??!;!;?:?:? WHATS UR CRUMB ON THAT BCS IM LITERALLY ASCENDING INTO HEAVEN JUST BY THE THOUGHT OF IT😩☝🏼

SUMMARY: after the events of DOUBLE RAPTURE, we follow Mig back home and explore his less than ideal relationship with his world's version of you.

explicit (18+) | 1.5k words

part one / can be read as a standalone! WARNINGS: smut, ab-riding, handjobs, codependant relationships, submissive (?) miguel, ANGST, fear of commitment (on the reader's part), implied parental issues, drinking, anxious/avoidant attachment styles NOTES: did this take me forever to respond to? yes. have i been thinking about it every day since i received it? also yes. please have a little drabble as a sweet treat for your genius mind, anon. sorry i took it too far

This is how it is with Miguel.

Buttressed on a leather couch that isn't so much leather anymore, but cotton dotted with the flakes of black suede that've managed to hold on through the years since you bought it. It's old, unstable – somewhat an apt metaphor for your relationship to the man – and stands situated across a television with no cable. He shows up at your door on any unannounced night, where for once you wish he'd catch you with plans pre-made, and intrudes on your vain attempt to connect the old screen to your neighbour's internet.

And it's ironic that you should end up watching dated cartoons anyway, stuck inside your apartment that is a fraction the size of his, because he always opens on some variation of the same line – the very thing that woo'd you all those years ago, when you were younger and prone to any man's charm:

What's a pretty thing like you do in a place like this?

It's dark outside – night-worn inhibition being one of the main constituents to poor decision making – and his skin gleams golden in the dim lamp light. You can't refuse him for all your rationale on why, so he comes in and you pour a strong drink whose hangover tomorrow will take precedence over your guilt. He drinks too, perhaps to make your eventual rejection easier, and the two of you make-out on that tumbledown couch until your lips turn blue.

Sometimes, he comes up for air – only when he gathers enough courage to break away from you – to whisper filthy nothings and little promises on the shell of your ear. Neither are empty, you know. Miguel’s good at making good of every word when it comes to you. The push and pull gets to him, fuels his gears until he’s pouring proper work into making you happy. From what you can physically face – gonna have you creaming on my cock, cariño – to prospects that remain ever-frightening – wanna stay like this forever, you on my lap, sharing our home. 

You’ve never had a reference to ‘our’. Commitment remains a fickle thing for you, instilled by parents who didn’t have the mind to give it. He knows as much, but you don’t think he understands just what keeps you around regardless. What keeps you at the door, waiting for an acknowledged three-knuckle knock. None of the in betweens, flowers, nor the heights you reach spread-eagled underneath him. It’s always just been exactly that – his return, done every time without fail. 

(And there’s the ever-negging fear that one day he’ll grow sick of the cycle. 

On one hand, you hope he does. It hurts him more than it does you, and you hate to watch him leave. Yet on the other, more volatile hand – you pray he fucks you so well you forget your reserve, that he breeds and carries you away from this hole you’ve dug yourself in.) 

For now, though–

For now, you lift the shirt off his frame. He’s let his chest-hair grow since you met him last, and if you strain to remember, he’s gotten bulkier. Abs more pronounced, with pecs that bounce when you graze your nails down his side. It’s refined, a look that makes him appear older. You swoop down to lick his neck, moaning hotly once you reach his mouth. 

“You been working out, Mig?” 

“For you, hermosa. Figured you’d like me better like this.” He groans, kneading the flesh of your thighs. His fingers dip into the waistband of your underwear, snapping it on your skin in an explicit plea to take it off. 

“And who told you that?” You say, acquiescing, working the lacey strip off your hips. Your cunt sucks at it, belligerent in letting go now that it’s soaked the fabric through. 

“A couple I met. They remind me of us.” His head follows yours when you draw away from an attempted kiss. It’s unintentional, done to stand off and strip completely, yet his reaction to it sends little tremors of pleasure to your core. “Of what we could be.” 

“Shhhh.” Once you’re completely bare, tits freed from your tank top, you straddle him again, a little higher this time. His waist is cinched enough to allow you to do so with little fuss, tendons at the top of your thighs aching only slightly. “Make me feel good, please.” 

“Of course.” 

His thumb presses down on your swollen clit, holding it in place while you arch your back and trap it underneath you – sandwiching it between your mound and his midriff. The pressure is electric, charged to fervency, buzzing as it lights every nerve ending from your waist below. And three thrusts forth and back see to it that he’s slick, lubed with the juices that gradually seep from your needy slit. 

The sight, the sensations, the thought that he’s putting effort outside of this room for you – they all make you exceedingly weak. Your legs wobble, practically jello, spine made out of sand and unable to support you fully. Miguel stays firm, one large paw squeezing your breast and the other at your pelvis. You’d ask him to help, to move you against him until you see stars, but a stone lodges in your throat and prevents the words from finding clarity. 

It’s guilt, of that you’re familiar, but for a number of things; the fact that he would help you seek pleasure in spite of his own – his erection left abandoned under the confines of his pants. The idea of desecrating his hard work, those muscles made pronounced, with your filth without fully appreciating it first. For everything, everything, and it’s so crushing that you stop moving altogether. 

“No, no. C’mon, pretty. Keep going.” He begs, pelvis thrusting up with need. You shove your arm behind you, seeking out the zipper keeping him from you, palming his hard length with clumsy assurance “Don’t worry about me. Wanna feel you cum on my abs. Gonna lick you clean after. We have forever if you’d let me. There’s no rush.” 

No rush. It’s far from the typical Miguel sentiment, and you blink in perplexed contemplation. But he just grins, brows knitting up with reverence. 

“Did these people also teach you to take your time?” You struggle to say patience, because he’s always been patient with you. 

“Something along the lines.” He mutters, suddenly sheepish. His fangs always intrude when his tone is quiet, like they’re intentionally making him difficult to understand. He knows he’s special to you when you try to decipher it nonetheless. 

“Don’t be making me jealous, now.” You taunt, dipping to bite his lip. It’s fun to pull up, up, until he whines and shoves you harder onto him. Achingly empty and close to cumming on his abdomen alone. Slowly, you start to gyrate again, riding unrelenting sinew. And in the meanwhile, you manage to get his zipper undone, sneaking your hand beneath his briefs.

“I’ll explain lat… later, p-promise.” 

“I don’t doubt it. F-Fuck,” Somehow, the pleasure is simultaneously heavenly and not enough, this little game you decided to engage in tiptoeing the line. He’s good even when he isn’t trying, just laying there, pinching pebbled nipples with enough callousness that it aches in the best way. On your first date – which wasn’t really a date, but a happenstance meeting at your father’s shady bar – he’d been hesitant to hurt you like you wanted. The best he could do was pepper your neck with sore hickeys, pocketed in the back alley, touch kinder than any you’d experienced before. “Oh my god.”

“Y-You’re so soft. My gorgeous girl. So soft and… and pretty when you do that.”

“Mig.” You wail, useless in properly pumping his pulsing cock. It’s all you can do to palm the head, smearing prespend all over his velvet tip. And it’s hard, like smelted iron, throbbing hot and heavy. It’s been so long since you’ve had it in you that you’re sure it’ll take some effort to fit. The abstraction fills you with desperation so poignant that you start moving faster, rougher, seeking an end where you’re stuffed full yet doing nothing to actually achieve it. 

That is, until–

“What do you need?” He asks.

Your hole clenches. Your guts knot together. Your orgasm gathers, full and sloshing wet, trapped behind the wall he’s been breaking down since his arrival. 

“You!” You finally admit. “You.” Softer. 

And when you cum, soaking his middle with shameless indulgence, all he does is flip you over to settle beneath him. The couch rocks with the sudden upheaval, threatening collapse, so he keeps a firm hold of your shoulders, kneeling between your quivering thighs. His breadth bobs from over his pants – you don’t recall taking it out – purple with restrained pain and just waiting for your cue to allow him entry.

“I’ve got you, cariño.” Miguel hums, positioning himself onto the divet of your cunt when you give a frail nod. “I’ve got you.” 

And you know, of course you do. He’s never backed away from a promise before. Because that is how it is with Miguel.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Super excited to see more Fourth Wing content on Tumblr. I don't have any specific ideas yet, but maybe some fluff with our hot wingleader Xaden? Or some wholesome training scenes with the dragons?

It needs to be brought here because it's a crime to have practically nothing here!!!

Morning lights

The morning sun wasn't even fully out when Aetos banged on every single door on the first year's floor shouting something about the promised training and how lucky everyone should feel that he's taking his time to put in extra work even if it should be a punishment for performing worse then others squads in the last training session.

You suddenly become hyper-aware of the still-cold morning air seeping through the window, that you left ajar last night. Dawn is still breaking outside. Light shades of pinks and oranges painting the horizon. It's a beautiful sight. One you wouldn't want to miss or at least enjoy one of the mornings when someone isn't forcing you out of bed.

You move to get up slowly but two strong hands instantly tighten over your lower stomach, drawing you back to where you were laying moments ago. "Remind me to spit into Aetos morning coffee", the husky voice fills the space. You let out a breathy chuckle, turning slightly in the embrace of the man who's been sharing your bed for some nights now. "Don't, he might come swinging at me", you mutter, trying not to fully chase his sleep away since his eyes were still closed. He lets out a slightly frustrated huff, "I would love to see him try", and here it is real Xaden Riorson lethal, powerful, ready to fight at any given moment.

It was slightly funny how this big muscular male was squeezed beside you looking like an absolute work of art that didn't belong in the first year's bedroom. Your fingers carefully moved to run through Xaden's dark hair, nails scratching the scalp softly. The most content sigh leaves his lips as his hands grip your hips tightly.

"Wingleader, the cadet is needed on the training grounds", you say in a more serious tone, in a way mocking Aetos. But you also know that time is working against you now. You do need to get out of bed and get ready. The last thing you want to listen to is grumpy males complaining. "This cadet is needed in bed", Xaden mumbled against your skin, bringing you even closer to him, his warmth seeping into your skin and now you understand why you didn't feel the cold breeze from outside. How could you when you have a whole personal heater in your bed? "Is that an order?", you tease, Xaden opens one eye, throwing a glare your way, "Yes. Yes, it is".

Yet it all wasn't that simple. He was still a wingleader. A wingleader who shouldn't even be here in the first place. Because the conclusion that everyone would go straight to would be that you slept your way into safety. And you don't want to be labeled as a whore. This place was a shit show as it is most of the time.

You firmly push at Xaden's arms, the last thought fueling you with enough strength to pull away from him. "No...", he tries to grab onto your hips once more but you're out of his reach now. Could he easily drag you back? Yes. One flicker of his shadows and you would be pinned to the bed. But he's not stupid too. The commotion outside the door is getting louder. Meaning that you're running out of time.

"Now you're being a whiny baby", you tease, pulling Xaden's shirt from your body and reaching for your flying leathers instantly. Better safe than sorry in these kinds of situations. "I'm not a whiny baby", he argues back and you can hear the announcer in his voice that makes you chuckle, "And now his masculinity has been scarred", you place your hand on your chest sighing dramatically. "Sometimes I hate you", he rolls his eyes, before moving to sit up. His muscular chest somehow looking even more unreal in the early morning light. But you shake your head quickly, reaching for your daggers, "Oh same... look at us sharing mutual emotions", you flash him a smile that he doesn't return.

"Be careful", he says, eyes now practically cutting right through you. One of his shadows move to caress the scar that now was forming on your forearm. You brush your fingers over the shadow, "I'm always careful". But you can tell that the worry growing within him is much bigger than most mornings. "This is something Aetos came up with. Most definitely no one in command...", but you cut the distance between you, knee pressing into your mattress as you lean closer to him, "I will be fine, Riorson", you lean in brushing your lips over his. The kiss is gentle and soft. A rare moment because most of the time it's filled with so much speed and desire that you lose yourself in the moment. Not even noticing when it ends. "And I have Liam" you mumble, packing his lips one more time before turning to leave. Xaden growls and you know that it's because you said another male's name right before kissing him. Territorial bastard.

"Any clues about what this is?", you catch up with Liam, who instantly wraps you up in a side hug as you walk alongside the others.

"Not really. Some bullshit", he grumbles still sleepy. "Use your far sight signit", you wrap your hands around his middle. "And look into Aetos insides?", you let out a laugh, quickly clasping your hand over your mouth and shoving Liam slightly. Yet a couple of heads instantly turned your way. Jack one of them. Instantly glaring at you. You return the favor by flipping him off but that only makes his snarl more.

Morag. You call out. Not far away. The voice rings out, soothing you in a way. Do you stink of wingleader once again? You roll your eyes. Mind your business. Morag lets out a dramatic sigh. I have to carry your stinky ass. You flip him off mentally. Out of the two of us, it's you who stinks.

"I'll see you out there", Liam taps your shoulder as he walks towards his dragon. Wrapping your arms around yourself you watch as he jog towards Deigh. You can't imagine your life without him now either. You two had bonded almost immediately. After crossing the parapet you burst into tears. Liam had instantly stood in front of you shielding you from the crowd and equally as much not letting others see your tears. "If it helps, I'm sure a shat myself midway", he had whispered, making you let out a chuckle as you whipped your tears.

But you're brought out of your head as a hand holding a cloth clasps over your mouth and you're brought into a tight chest with a huff. Your hands instantly move to push away from the person holding you down, moving and wiggling in its hold. "Squad whore", the words ring in your ears and you instantly know how this is. Just don't have much time to be mad when a wave of dizziness hit you. That fuck must have dosed the material in something.

I'm almost there. Hold on. Morag's voice fills your head. Your nails dig into his pam as you try to rip it off your face. But then you see the gleam of light. Reflection. Sun. A dagger. Your eyes widen. Jack strikes for a kill just you move you heal up shoving between his legs as hard as you can. The blade zaps the side of your neck, and the warm blood trickles down almost immediately. "I'll end you bitch", Jack barks from behind you. You try to step away but your legs buck as you come in contact with the ground. The roar pierces the field. For a moment you feel relief flowing through you because it has to be Morag but it's the blue wings that make your gut drop. Even the shouting from cadets dies down. Sgaeyl. Why is she here? She shouldn't be here. You try to push your hands against the ground. You need to get out of her way as well, yet your body feels so heavy. She lads with a thud, sending dirt debris flying all over.

Xaden you plea in your head, gods what a way to die by his dragon. Just Sgaeyl steps closer, growling as she glares ahead. You count your last seconds and then her wing moves over you. Drawing away the early sun. You feel the blast of heat and then an agony-filled cry.

Breath Morag orders. What's happening? You ask, feeling your consciousness starting to slip, your hand now clasping the side of your neck. You stink of someone and you're sure Morag is rolling his eyes. Xaden. Sgaeyl felt Xaden on you. Or has he told her something? Does he know? Sgaeyl moves her wing away, and her snout if you can call it that moves closer to you as she inhales your scent. "Thank you", you mutter, "Just tell Xaden a less dramatic story, please", you're not sure but it sounds like she lets out a snort before moving to nudge your hand and then everything goes black.

When you open your eyes once more it takes you a moment to realize what had happened as memories filled your head. Head. Head that was pounding. The tightest on your neck piercing with pain. "Love", a voice rings out and you flinch instantly. Warm fingers run down your arm, that same comforting warmth that you know. You blink your eyes a couple of times. Waiting for your eyes to concentrate. And there he is. His hair was messy from all the pulling he must have done. The shirt slightly wrinkly. "Why are you here?", you ask groggy, hand instantly reaching for your throat at the uncomfortable pulling. "In my room? Or with you?", panic runs through you. You can't be in his room. No. No. No. People will talk. You move to sit up but Xaden's arms instantly hold you down.

"You're not going anywhere. Gave me enough of a fright", he grumbles in frustration, "I didn't ask for it", you argue back. Something in his eyes darken, "And I did? I've never ran faster and you were there behind Sgaeyl wing all bloody", his voice raising with every word he spoke. Your gaze softens. Losing had always been his biggest fear. And it's been a long while since he had something precious to lose. "Sgaeyl saved me all thanks to you I'm sure", you lace your fingers through his. Xaden shakes his head, "That's all her doing. I did get a lecture about not taking proper care of you", you let out a slight chuckle, imagining her lecturing him and him not being able to talk back, "Say thank you to her from me", you mutter.

Xaden runs his fingers through your hair, letting out a sigh, "I...I love you", he whispers, bringing your hand closer to his lips. You smile at him sweetly, brushing your free fingers across his cheek, "And I love you". Xaden leans in, brushing his lips over yours before pressing his forehead against your shoulder, "Though I wish I could bring him back just so I could kill him myself", he grumbles, "Xaden!", you warn him, yet let yourself chuckle.

[liminal-space-lesbian]

Bg3 Ladies needing comfort after a bad day

Request: So for the BG3 headcanon or blurb requests what about a little thingy where the Lady’s of the game have a bad day and need lots of comfort from their Tav. 🥺

A/n

Honestly idgaf if Lae’zel is ooc, my baby is secretly going soft. Sorry guys!! I believe she actually has feelings deep down <3 Also mild spoilers if you haven’t finished the Crèche questline

Also Karlach is so babygirl omg if someone doesn’t give her a hug rn I SWEARRRR

Karlach:

Karlach had spent the entire day fighting off various enemies, who were unfortunately harder to defeat than expected. And right as she’s settling down for the night, finally getting a reprieve from the day, Raphael shows up.

He’s yammering on about how he wants to strike up a deal with you, but you cannot send him away fast enough. Seeing a devil only dredges up bad memories for your lover, and you do not want her to have to relieve the memories of her torture in Avernus.

“Come here baby, it’s alright just try to relax.” You coax, seeing the tension in her body once Raphael leaves. You coo, gently taking her into your arms. Her head buried in your chest, strong arms wrapping around you tightly as you rub her shoulders and the back of her neck. You ease the tension out of her muscles, kissing the crown of her head.

She finally lets the tension leave her body as she breaks down into tears, quietly crying into the fabric of your shirt. Small sobs wrack her shoulders, sending an aching pain lancing through your heart. You can’t stand seeing her so upset.

“I fuckin’ hate demons. No good ever comes of ‘em. Promise me you’ll never even consider Raphael’s deal.” She pleads, and you’re quick to reassure her. “I promise, I’ll never make a deal with a devil. I love you too much to risk it.” You whisper into her hair as you place a gentle kiss on her temple.

You cuddle her to sleep, allowing her to wrap herself around you entirely. Lord knows a decade of not being able to touch anyone without scorching their skin off leaves a girl touch starved. You tuck her in as cozy as she can get, and pepper her face with gentle kisses as she drifts off. Your heart aches for the suffering your lover has endured, but all you can do is be here now to support her.

Shadowheart:

Shadowhearts wound on her hand had been flaring rather badly all day, and unfortunately you had to travel past an abandoned temple of Shar. All the memories- or lack thereof- cause Shadowheart’s mood to sour. She seems snappy and short tempered, but when you visit her tent later you see her curled into a ball and cradling her hand.

“Oh sweetheart.” You murmur, getting on your knees beside her, resting a hand on her shoulder. She sniffles, obviously trying to hide her tears. You shush her, gently lying behind her and wrapping your arms around her. She rolls over and cuddles into your chest, crying more freely now.

“Why did they have to take my memories? Sometimes I don’t even feel like I know myself.” She whimpers, and your heart shatters. “Oh baby, I’m so sorry.” You whisper, kissing her forehead and wiping away her tears. “I know you, and I love you.” You murmur, rubbing your hand soothingly up and down her back as she tucks her head into your neck. You spend the evening wiping away her tears and soothing her as best as you can.

Lae’zel:

Lae’zel doesn’t get upset, she gets angry. It’s how she was raised, channel every feeling into anger. Anger fuels strength, and only created a stronger more tenacious fighter. So when Lae’zel finds out the truth about Vlaakith, she’s angry. Enraged. Furious. Not hurt.

Lae’zel definitely doesn’t cry when she’s alone in her tent that night. She also definitely doesn’t crawl into your arms and bury her face in your shoulder. Your touch is the only balm to the aching in her chest.

“Tsk’va, look at me. So weakened by the betrayal of a false god.” Lae’zel grits out between tears, fists clenched firmly in your shirt. Her anger is directed at herself, as if it’s her fault she was fooled along with every other Gith.

“Darling, it’s not your fault. Vlaakith tricked everyone. I know her betrayal hurts, and you have a right to be upset. Im so sorry you have to deal with something like this.” You coo, kissing her forehead and wiping her tears. She scowls and pulls away from your touch, but only to roll over so she can be little spoon.

She doesn’t speak for the rest of the night, but you feel a bit of tension melt away from her muscles. The next morning she’ll wake as if nothing happened, but for now she burrows farther into your warmth, seeking your comfort.

Dame Aylin:

Aylin’s mood took a turn for the worse when she heard Raphael had proposed a deal to you at Sharess Caress. She had already spent the day overstimulated from the noise of Baldurs Gate, a stark contrast to a century in shadowfell, where the only sound was the wind and rumbling in the distance. Now that you told her this? She was pissed.

She stomped off to be alone, saying she just needed time to think. You could tell by the stiffness of her posture she was upset, more than just angry. You gave her some space, but when she finally returned to your tent to go to sleep, you confronted her.

“What’s wrong darling?” You coax, your expression soft as you open your arms for her. She hesitates, her pride and stoicism holding her back for a moment. Her hesitation is short lived however, as she heaves a sigh and flops into your arms.

“I’m just thinking of my time spent in shadowfell. Raphael is a devil, simply a reminder of the evils in this world.” She pauses, heaving an irritated sigh. “After being trapped in that soul cage for so long… sometimes it feels as though I’m still there. Not physically but… in my mind that place haunts me.” She admits quietly, and you think you hear her voice quiver.

“I’m sorry Aylin. You didn’t deserve that. If I could take away all your pain I would.” You murmur, hugging her a bit tighter as you look in her eyes. You see tears clinging to her lashes as she swallows thickly.

“I know you would. And I love you for it.” She whispers brokenly, nuzzling her head into your shoulder as she clings to you. She pulls away to place a deep kiss on your lips, reveling in the comfort of you.

“Try and rest Aylin, you need sleep.” You coax, easing her to lie back. She complies, allowing herself to get comfortable as she slips off to sleep. For the first time in weeks she doesn’t have a single nightmare.

Isobel Thorm:

Isobel was drained after narrowly escaping being kidnapped by Marcus. She pumped all of her magical abilities into the shield around the Last Light Inn, as well as blessing you and your companions to ward off the shadow curse.

You could see her bottom lip quiver as she climbed into bed, and she instantly cuddled into your side. You turned towards her, gently cupping her face in your hands.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You ask gently, and she simply shakes her head, blinking heavily as tears flow freely down her face. You brush the tears away with your thumbs, nodding as you kiss her forehead. You take her into your arms and let her cry it out.

You rub up and down her arms soothingly, allowing her the space to let out her feelings. Eventually her cries taper out, and soon enough she’s drifting off to sleep. You carefully make sure she’s tucked in perfectly before resuming your spot, cuddled up to her for the night.

A/n

If this is bad it’s bc I’ve been awake for 17 hours, sorry peeps 😔

[sadstonewrites]

Piotr Rasputin/Colossus SFW Alphabet

hi, I'm still alive I promise! Still working on fics, but wanted to throw this out here as a fun little writing exercise with the SFW alphabet! So, without further ado...

taglist: @master-sass-blast @osmiumamygdala @black-but-mildly-sunny @seconds-2-midnight

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Piotr is a very physically affectionate man - pats on the back, a hand up if you’re struggling to climb over an obstacle, a hand on your shoulder and a squeeze as he passes. He would struggle at first if you didn’t like physical affection or were uncomfortable with being touched, but his next go-to would be acts of service. Dishes needed to be washed? Done. Laundry needs to be folded? He’s already on it and put on your favorite show so you can watch as you two pair the socks together; he likes making your life easier if he can. 

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

He’s the type of best friend who you know that if you go to for help, he’s going to help in whatever capacity he can. That being said, he’s the type to offer you solutions and advice as he’s doing it; if you need to vent, you’re going to have to tell him otherwise he’s going to try and fix it as best he can. The type of best friend to give you a lecture for ending up in a bad situation, but still comes to your rescue even if you're an hour away and it’s 3AM on a weeknight. 

The friendship starts naturally, you’re a colleague of his at Xavier’s or a friend of a friend and Piotr just…fits in your life. He slots in and makes a home for himself in your life, and you in his. 

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He’s a big fan of cuddles, although always very hesitant to initiate since he is one - very large and heavy - and two - covered in a hard metallic armor almost 85% of the time. You’re going to have to initiate and assure him you’re comfortable, and only then will he willingly cuddle up.

That being said, he’s a big fan of laying on his back with you nestled up to his side and your head on his chest. He’s got an arm draped over your side, lazily tracing patterns on your skin and holding you close. 

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

On paper he’d love to settle down, but knows the reality comes with conditions that he could never willingly ask a partner to be okay with. He’s still a superhero, and so many people would still need his help; if he had to choose between a mission where lives are at stake and you asking him to stay, he hates to admit how difficult a decision it would be. He doesn’t know if he could ever ‘retire’ in the traditional sense, settle down and leave the hero work on the shelf, but if anyone could persuade him, it’d be you.

He’s an alright cleaner in the fact he doesn’t make much of a mess to begin with. Piotr always picks up after himself, and is a very big fan of Marie Kondo’s mantra of keeping a clean and tidy space. As far as cooking goes, he’s good at cooking very specific dishes - Russian comfort food, anyone? But beyond that his cooking is a bit bland; the type to eat chicken breasts and steamed vegetables for every meal because it’s quick, easy, and keeps him fueled. You’re going to need to teach him to use seasonings. 

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

If there is one man in the world who gives people too many chances, it’s Piotr. He always wants to give people the benefit of the doubt, the chance to change or improve. That being said, the point where the relationship would end would be if a major boundary was crossed; at that point, it’s time to reevaluate and have a serious conversation about the trajectory of the relationship. It would be awkward, and uncomfortable, because he would never want to intentionally hurt his partner, but also he would be quick to the point. Not wanting to drag it on any longer than it’s already gone. 

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Piotr likes the idea of commitment, of having a partner to share things with. Not so much having a ‘better half’ but just having someone there for him, and someone he can be there for in turn. It would probably take him 3-4 years of serious dating before he would want to get married, although he’s the type to dream about it around 6 months into the relationship. 

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

As Colossus, he had to teach himself to be gentle - to not accidentally crush someone’s hand in a handshake or put his foot through the floor with each step - it’s carried over even when he’s not armored up. He’s extremely gentle, very aware of the strength of his hands or how his large frame fills a room and could very easily knock over an end table (or, god forbid, a person) with the slightest brush of his hip. 

He would need to teach himself to be gentle with his emotions as well, his frustration or anxiety coming off as overbearing or lecturing at first (again, you’ll need to specifically tell him not to offer solutions when you just need to vent). That being said, he’s not the type that’s prone to emotional outbursts, but rather has the need to channel his negative emotions into action rather than sitting with them and fully processing them. 

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Loves hugs, is perfect for hugs, hugs his friends often (if they are okay with it). He’s a big bear hugger, the type to pick the other person up by the armpits and swing them around if the occasion calls for it.  

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

As soon as he knows the other person feels the same, he’s going to say it. Not the type to be subtle in his affections for his friends or romantic partners, so at most maybe 6 months into the relationship. 

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Piotr doesn’t get jealous; if you’re in a relationship together, then he trusts you and knows not to be jealous if you’re spending time with anyone else or aren’t giving him your full undivided attention. He knows you have a life outside of him and your relationship, and he actively encourages it. 

Of course, that doesn’t mean he isn’t going to be protective. He’s not jealous because somebody is taking up all your attention, but he is absolutely moving and putting an arm around you if you show any outward sign of being uncomfortable; he’s going to physically move you behind him, if needed. He’s going to check up on you when you’re with your friends, a quick text to make sure you’re having fun and then another to ask when you’ll be home; he’ll wait up for you to come home and breathe a little easier when you walk through the door. 

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

If he’s armored up, his skin is cool to the touch and his lips are no different as they gently brush against yours. Butterfly soft, the smallest amount of pressure as if he’s afraid you’ll break under him. He’s a big fan of forehead kisses (it’s the easiest kiss to give when you’re almost seven feet tall) but also kisses to both your cheeks and then a soft, final press of his lips against yours. 

Kiss his knuckles, his palms, and he’s a goner. He’s so used to his hands being used to smash through walls and push through obstacles, that the gentle press of your lips against his joints has him stopped dead in his tracks. 

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Loves kids, is fantastic around kids. He is very large and is the perfect jungle gym for rambunctious children, but also can be very gentle and encouraging with any of the shyer ones who are intimidated by a large man made of metal. He’s still a bit of a stickler for rules and structure, no desserts before dinner and all vegetables must be eaten, but makes up for it by just being a really fun adult that kids kind of gravitate towards. 

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Piotr’s mornings are typically his busiest time; if he’s not working out in the morning, then he’s preparing for the day ahead with his various lessons. Is a very early riser as well, has an internal alarm clock that goes off at 6AM regardless of whether or not it’s a weekend and makes it so he cannot fall back asleep. 

Of course, that leads to morning cuddles if it’s the rare occasion where he actually doesn’t have a million things to do that day. He never takes those mornings for granted, holding you close and inhaling the scent of your shampoo and molding his body to spoon yours. If there’s nothing  else to do that day, he’ll spend the entire morning like that. 

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Piotr’s night time routine is less strict than his morning one, mostly focusing on winding down for the evening and getting comfortable before going to bed. A nice shower, pajamas and a chapter of the latest book he’s reading before turning off the lights and waiting for sleep to come. He tries to avoid any screen time before bed, if he can help it, but absolutely will get invested in whatever show you’re watching and will watch an episode with you before bed. 

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Piotr is a fairly open type of person as far as revealing things about himself, although isn’t the type to say it out of nowhere without a proper relationship being established. If you ask him anything, he’ll almost always give you a straightforward answer, but won’t necessarily give the nitty gritty details until a proper relationship and mutual trust is created. 

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Patience of a saint, it takes so much to get him to show any frustration beyond general annoyance or displeasure. True anger is difficult to get from Piotr, and is usually reserved for very specific circumstances or people. 

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He is the type to make notes in his phone if you mention you like a certain brand of something or a specific snack. Those flowers you mentioned offhand? He has a note in his phone and a reminder to place an order to the florist on Valentine’s Day and your birthday. It's an effort, and doesn’t necessarily come naturally to him to remember all the little details, but wants to make you happy so keeps a running list of things that make you happy. 

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

There’s a moment in the relationship where the dynamic shifts, where it’s less ‘I am trying to impress/entice this person into a relationship’ and it becomes more ‘this is my friend who I love but also am romantically involved with and would tear this world down for’. That moment would be Piotr’s favorite, and it would be a casual moment; the two of you in pajamas, perhaps both in the same room but idly doing your own thing. And it’s then that Piotr looks over at you, in one of his t-shirts and a face mask while you scroll absentmindedly on your phone,and  there’s something in that moment when you look up at him and smile that makes his heart clench. There’s nothing particularly special, but it’s you and him and he feels so…at peace in your presence. 

It’s at that moment he knows you could ask him to do anything, ask him to jump and he’d ask how high, and it both frightens and exhilarates him to know that you - wonderful, imperfectly perfect you - have this much power over him. A man who regularly faces life or death for a cause bigger than himself as casually as some people court lovers, and he’d throw it all down for the person sitting next to him. 

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He’d wrap you in bubble wrap if he could, carry you down every flight of stairs if it meant your safety. Not because he doubts your ability or because he wants to undermine your autonomy, but because the thought of you getting hurt - especially when he could have prevented it - would kill him. If he can’t protect you, what is he? He’s the shield for his team, the battering ram when the situation calls for it, but for you he’ll be an entire suit of armor. 

Of course he knows that’s not feasible to always be there to save you, but it doesn’t stop him from always watching you a bit closer, having a hand at your side, or walking on the side of you that faces traffic. If you’d try to do the same for him, step in front of him or try to shield his body with your own - at first he won’t know what to think. He’s so used to being the one to take the hits, and to have someone willing to take them for him? Well, it’s going to take some getting used to, and it probably contributes to him falling for you a bit faster than he usually would. 

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He puts in a lot more effort than he puts on when it comes to dates and anniversaries and holidays. He has it planned down to the letter - your favorite restaurant, the flowers that you mentioned offhandedly that you liked, and the outfit you said he looked so handsome in. Of course, it’s played off as effortless, just another part of his routine, and you’ll quickly see the cracks start to form if something goes off course.

Just kiss his hand and assure him it’s perfect, as long as he’s there beside you,  and he’ll quickly resume sweeping you off your feet. 

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Stickler for routine, needs structure or else he will quickly fall into bad habits fueled by self doubt. Often questions his place in the grand scheme of things if he feels like he is not fulfilling his role as a protector, and can spiral very quickly into depression or self destructive habits. 

Also, he will wear shorts and a tank top no matter how cold it gets. He’s that kid, you know the one. 

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Piotr’s interesting in this regard - he doesn’t so much care for his looks as far as aesthetics go. I’ve touched on this in previous asks and various drabbles, but he lifts and works out to be strong rather than to look a certain way. It’s functional, and he's more of a strongman than a bodybuilder, if that makes sense. He works out and stays fit because it suits his lifestyle and helps him be the Colossus his team needs him to be, getting ripped isn’t so much the prerogative. Of course, he enjoys looking strong and like he could tear the doors off a car without trying, and he’s the type to change if he notices a stain on his shirt, but for the most part he’s not a very vain person as far as looks are concerned. He dresses for comfort and utility rather than fashion most of the time, but he has the capacity to dress up if needed. 

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Incomplete isn’t the right word. He’d feel like something was lacking, like he was missing something that would otherwise make him happy, but he would still be able to function. You don’t make him Piotr, just like he doesn’t make you…well, you. It’s an added bonus of having another person around, and it would be great if you were there and he’ll certainly miss you if you aren’t there, but he’ll be able to function without you. He’ll have to, at least that’s what he tells himself. 

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Okay, so the Russian stereotype of drinking vodka like it’s water is very prevalent, and yeah Piotr’s able to drink a lot and stay relatively sober, but he doesn’t really like the feeling of being inebriated beyond a slight buzz. It’s a dangerous game to get him really drunk, not only for anyone trying to keep up with him, but also for him. Drunk Piotr is a sad, sappy Piotr who is going to hold onto his friends or significant other and cry into their shoulder while forgetting his own strength. He has absolutely broken a few barstools (and a few bars) by getting too inebriated for his own good and completely forgetting that he can smash through most surfaces with little to no effort. 

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

I think Piotr wouldn’t be a fan of people who are completely resistant to change or self improvement - he wants to grow and try new things with you! You can be hesitant, you’ll work up to it together and he’ll be the most supportive person in your corner, but to completely shut him down or resist it altogether would really dishearten him. I also think a lack of ambition would really turn him off - if you have a goal, no matter how small, he wants to be there to help you achieve it. 

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Once he settles down and is fully out cold, he does not move. Absolutely still, he’s conditioned himself to not to move or throw out an arm in fear it’ll strike out and break another bedside table. This will be doubled if you are sleeping beside him, he would be terrified of accidentally rolling over in his sleep on top of you!

[phoeebsbuffay]

Imagine “Star Wars: “special editions” songs V.

• When We Were Young

Imagine you are friends with Anakin Skywalker since childhood. However, once you two are now grown ups following different paths, a new sentiment arises. Part II

Warnings 1: *long post*; drama; angst, unburnt Vader; explicit smut.

Warnings 2: alternative universe; no younglings are killed here.

Warnings 3: based on Adele’s two albums “21” & “25”

No minors.

***

• Before the storm…

As much as Anakin tries not to get you involved in his internal riot, his efforts have no avail. You may not be sensitive to the Force, but you do know him like the palm of your hand.

So here you two are, beneath the moonlight—in a rare, calm instant where you two could have a moment for yourselves.

“How’s it been serving Senator Amidala?”, Anakin eventually asks. He’s been told of the attack that nearly got yourselves killed—another factor that fuels his frustration; had he been truthfully powerful, he might’ve been able to prevent such things to happen.

“It’s been quiet lately”, you tell him with a smile on your lips, diverting his thoughts from his self agony. “For once, it’s been lightly boring…”

He chuckles, eyeing you with devotion. Anakin knows you just as deeply as you know him. As he holds you possessively against him, he is tempted to dive in your thoughts—but he wants to focus in you, in what you have to say, even if this means he’ll get worried over you constantly…

“Boring?! Getting me concerned is not boring, my lady!”

You giggle at his protest, finding adorable how protective he is towards you. Leaning your forehead against his chest, your raise your eyes, meeting his.

“We are not entirely different from each other, uh? Should I remind you of all those years when you were mute, never writing one single letter to let me know how you were?”

Anakin sighs dramatically.

“Well, you have a point”, he admits rather unwillingly.

There is an exchange of glances, where he contemplates your soft features, a smile slowly spreading over his lips when realizing you are blushing because of his intent stare. He then leans to peck your lips, resting a hand around your waist all the whilst he holds your neck gently.

"I love you", you sigh in content as he kisses you.

"I love you too, Y/Nickname."

As you part the kiss, he cups your face and says:

"I will never let go of you. This I promise."

"I pray you keep it", you whisper, sounding more eager than you expect.

As the twilight starts to paint a soft shade of orange, Anakin and you exchange promises underneath the rising stars. No words, however, dare to break the spell when the kiss starts to deepen, letting open the pave for a spark of something new.

Words seem to dissipate into forgetfulness as his tongue slowly pursuit yours. As you slowly turn towards him, his hands are now pulling you much closer to him.

You let yourself be involved although you are unsure how to proceed. Anakin doesn't know either, but there is a natural instinct that makes him kiss you fervently all the whilst his fingers dig into your waist, moving impatiently below. You realize what he wants to do--and to realize this is what you want too makes you soaked.

"Naughty, naughty", he whispers in between chuckles when he parts the kiss to let his tongue slide to your neck.

"Don't you dare to read my thoughts, Skywalker", you snort at him, eyes lightly closed as you blush in response to how he devours your flesh. You hate to be inexperienced, wishing there is something you could do.

As if sensing your mute frustration, he pulls your hand right over his rigid pants. Anakin smirks, growing bolder with his hands too, ignited by a desire of feeling you for the first time.

“Ani”, your choked voice gives out more than you’d admit out loud.

“Let me show you something, princess”, he whispers into your ear.

His fingers carefully slip from your hips to your thighs all the whilst his eyes are locked with yours. You lean to kiss his lips, your delicate hands doing the same to him. But you lose track of your thoughts once his index finger finds its way to your feminine core.

“Oh!”, you exclaim, perplexed by the sudden fire that seems to burn your body like a fever.

“Shh”, he smiles at you; feigning confidence, he finds way to please his lady. “Do not be so loud, darling.”

As he starts to stimulate you, he’s careful to read you. Anakin smirks at himself when seeing your mind going blank, you rolling your eyes upon this new discovery. It does arouse him to know he’s your first.

“Ani, you…”, you gasp, moving lightly your hips against his hand. “You… Oh Maker!”

It does not really help your case that his lips are now going to your neck, bitting it softly before making ways to your collarbone. You throw your head back, but your hands are now buried into his curly hair in order to prevent your fall.

“Is it good, my dearest? Tell me if it is”, he whispers against your skin, taking delight at how easily you squirm at the slightest movement.

“You make me… Ani!”, you are about to cry out, feeling a sudden heaviness upon your legs. “Ani… I…”

He would gladly bury himself in between your breasts, but the desperation in your voice calls him. The Jedi gently lies you down, watching your face as you come undone. And before you get too loud, he shushes you with a kiss.

But just when you are about to make it your turn, a sudden noise breaks the spell. Sensing a strange movement, Anakin impatiently sighs.

“We better go”, he grumbles, whilst helping you straighten yourself. “There is somebody looking for me, I can tell.”

You pout at him, still unreasonable to conceive that, in reality, you two should not be seen.

“W-What? Why?”

You are smirking, it’s as if you are drunk—a sensation you’ve never tried, though, because you were never attracted to alcohol, seeing the sad side effects it gives people.

However, Anakin feels as if he’s tasted fire, he’s now experiencing the cold, for he is tensed—he senses the presence of another Jedi and it’s possibly the one who he came to despise: Master Windu.

What’s he doing in Naboo?

“We better go”, he tells you, somewhat distant.

“Ani”, your smile now falters and your heart skips a beat. “What… Why? What happened?”

Just like that everything has changed. Unbeknownst to you, an eclipse is forging…

“We must go”, says he firmly, trying not to focus on the possibility he might get hurt you in the process. He did not have the time to tell you about the whole Jedi process. “Now.”

You do cast him a hurtful look, but understand that there is little to be done. You are aware that what you two were doing was secretly and suddenly you come to despise the Jedi Order for taking him away from him.

Anakin senses the eruption your heart is about to suffer, but he has no time to ease it.

There is so much to be said, but little time to do so.

“I’ll explain to you soon”, Anakin assures you as he leads you to your quarters.

You hold his wrist, impending for a moment his depart.

“Come back to me, Anakin. Don’t leave me alone in this world”, you tell him, urged by a bad feeling that came uninvited. “Whatever is going on, come to me. I’ll help you somehow. Don’t hide from the light.”

The shadow casted on his features softens. He gives you a crooked smile.

“You are my light, Y/N. I’ll come back to you. I’ll always find you”, he smiles, even though his smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

It seems to you that he wishes to tell you something. Anakin hesitates, but it’s only for a moment before this moment is gone. He presses a kiss on your forehead. Aware that you are going to burst into tears, he turns his back on you.

For your own sake, Y/N.

But this is the last time you see each other before it happens…

***

Two weeks ago.

Once a lady in waiting who got used to nobility, who enjoyed dancing, who smiled the brightest of the smiles, the one every poet praised the beauty… Now you are a phantom, a memory of what liberty meant.

You are a fugitive. You don’t belong to the Empire, but you don’t know how to fit in the Rebellion either. You have become a survivor.

Memories ache, indeed. You understand Anakin died with the Order 66. Padmé herself told you. She tried to encourage you to join the Resistance, but you’ve come to realize the Jedi were too vain to see what Anakin was going through—and thus let your beloved die.

“They took him away from me!”, you told her, eyes puddling with tears.

“It was the Empire, my dear”, Padmé insisted. “It is that evil thing we ought to aim the destruction.”

But even then… Every hope died when Padmé was killed. It was too much for you to take. Now here you are. A nobody, a vessel of the past, haunted by a broken heart.

I should have fought for you, Ani.

You do not know but by choosing to hide in the shadows, these are to lead you to someone whom you’ve long accepted to be gone.

Lord Vader has not forgotten you. But he waited patiently to acquire enough power to take you back. He is no longer the weak Skywalker, prompted to sentimentalism and control. No, he is better than that.

With Palpatine now defeated, the power of the Empire lies with the last Sith Lord. Unwilling to share it with a pupil, he in fact knows only one can be his equal.

His yellow, flaring eyes search for you; aware of your silent steps, they eventually find you. His heart skips a beat when seeing your beauty has matured—remaining alluring as ever, time has not changed it all.

Despite your link with old Skywalker, Vader’s too attached to let go of you. There is a tentacle of remorse suffocating his mind for allowing himself to abandon you.

But he overcomes it. The need to have you comes to it. And he does not take any more time to come for you…Not when seeing how close you two are from each other.

***

The meeting.

You are in this strange planet whose name you know nothing of. After getting yourself friends with pirates, you are delivered there specially with your gold now gone—and out of respect for you, they spare your life.

Surrounded by fog, you can barely see anything. Hugging yourself, you are exhausted and tired from running after two years.

You still remember when seeing the death of the good queen Padmé, the moment where Clovis nearly sold you out back to Tatooine so he could save himself.

You cannot forgive his treason, although you did try to find excuse for his deeds. Maybe it was his way to cope with the loss of his wife. Whatever it was, you tried to reach out for Anakin. Desperately so.

He never answered. And you believed him to be dead and gone.

Like you were told by Clovis himself. As you still recall the reasons why all of a sudden you were treated with little lenience by the man who was like a brother to you, wondering what Anakin would do if he was in your shoes.

You snort to yourself at the thought. He would easily outwit anyone… A deed that I could never do.

A metallic breath comes so suddenly, cutting short your thoughts. You shiver, fearful.

“W-Who is there?”

No response. You try to remain calm, appealing to reason that this planet, as your former "friends" told you, is neutral, somewhat forgotten by both rebels and the Emperor.

However, why does it not feel so? The breeze that meets your moves is cold, making you shiver again. Are you having a fever? The thought makes you stop.

Perhaps you are exhausted, emotionally broken and physically weak. This world took everyone you loved...

"I was not born for happiness", you contemplate out loud as your old scars bleed again.

But the metallic breath is heard again. You associate the sound of death and part of you accepts it straightaway: there is little need to flee from it after these years.

Then a voice, in the middle of the dark, whispers:

"I thought you were better than being a quitter, Y/N".

You turn your back instantly. His voice...

"Ani?", you sound surprised, but also hurt.

You were told he was dead, but... How? In order to put end to your doubts, he shows up, dissipating the remaining shadows so he is seen.

Anakin stands right before you strong and healthy, curly hair falling over his neck, just like the last time you two met, except you could see something different in his eyes.

Where there had been a piercing blue painting his irises, now you see a yellow flaring with range. This Sith Lord, seeing how stunned you are, breaks the silence at last:

"Hello, Y/N Y/LN. It’s me. I was wondering if after all those years you’d like…. To meet. If time was supposed to heal all of which we left behind, it did no healing."

You know he is expecting some shocking comments about his darkness, the evident transition behind his eyes. But what you point out is something different than his expectations would meet.

"You are alive. I was told you were dead."

"No. I was never killed, but..."

You frown at him.

"Were you alive all this time? Have you had no consideration whatsoever of what you put me through? The misery that took away my life, the reason why I went grey, losing every reason to live?!"

Seeing you burst into tears like this sensibilizes him. Vader comes to realize his selfishness, but before that how he underestimated you.

"I needed to be powerful", he says, his voice lightly shaken. "For you, Y/N. For you. I did this for you!"

You move to where he is, blinded by tears.

"Well, then. Why didn't you come back for me then?!Where were you when I needed the most? Why couldn't you save me like you claim now...?"

You take his face with your hands, not minding the danger his presence poses to you. As much as you are not a Force sensitive, you are no fool. You know he is different and Lord Vader can tell by your thoughts that reason is telling you to go away.

But where ever reason has been victorious upon sentiment? Not even this powerful Lord is immune to it.

"I do not need your power. I could not care less about any of these things. I want you. When did we stop being against the world?", you struggle to express yourself.

There are indeed one hell of an ocean of sentiments. Silently, they are muted by circumnstances even though Vader knows them well. He is acquainted with every inch of it. Why hiss away? Why not stopping the fight and merely be drowned into you?

Those eyes of yours that denude your soul, which possesses countless scars, are now calling him.

For a thousand stars I would burn for you. I would get burned with you.

No words are needed. He knows what there must be done. Darkness and light are set upon you two. Whoever he is now, he is the same man who pursuited after your love. In the end, it's what matters.

***

Nowadays.

"Green suits you", he whispers, standing behind you, hands resting around your waist.

You two are in the throne room contemplating the endless universe that lies ahead of you. There is peace at long last. The few Jedis that are out there remain in dust, a memory to some, a history to all—an idea that was promptly accepted by your lover and husband, the Emperor.

There is no resistance, nothing that will go against the balance firmly restored. Vader found himself in between shadows and light after a long time merged in struggles with himself.

In a twist of fate, you’ve been rescued twice from this man who is described by his enemies as the bitter mix of mankind and machine, the fall of the brilliant General who became everyone’s worst nightmare.

But to you Anakin remains the same old Anakin. You’ve been at his darkest hours, you’ve seen his insecurities, you’ve shared his part of unspoken fears. He’s been always your other half, your dark angel who saved you from the coldest hell you’ve been yourself.

As you told him the day he took you away from the deadly embrace of the rebels, people wanted to change him, to turn him into something else…all the whilst all she ever wanted was him the way he was.

Now, here you are. His empress. His woman. Better yet, his wife. His eternal paramour. Burning like a thousand stars under a midnight sun.

“I suppose it frees my spirit”, you tell him, turning around so you can have a better sight of him. Anakin, with his old scar, side smirks at you, already aware of your non said intentions. He is dressing his Vader’s robes, though thankfully his handsomeness is not put away with that mask you detest. “It reminds me of the old days, when you told me you knew it was wrong but you longed to have some fun.”

He laughs quietly at the remembrance. He does remember how often he and you misbehaved as children in Tatooine, a bad tendency that followed years later.

“Oh my Maker. Of all the people in the world…” You smile at him, locking eyes as you dance with no song to play in the background of your high spirits. “…you were the one to introduce me to freedom.”

He leans mischievously against you, holding your hand as he pulls you closer against him.

“Not many would describe me as the declarer of liberty”, so Anakin muses sarcastically, letting himself be played by you.

“Since when am I like everyone?”, you snap back, grinning.

He now presses you against the wall, locking your wrists above your head.

“Don’t be snippy at me, young lady.”

You side smirk, tilting your head to the right as your gaze is held by his.

“Or what?”

“You shall be punished.”

There is little need to speak. When his lips finally meet yours, what starts as a slow aching turns into a passionate fever that spreads all over your body.

Right there, in the throne room, you are under his control. He has no modesty in pulling his will above yours, and you gladly comply with it. It takes no more than a few seconds before he has your green gown is removed, letting you completely nude under his gaze.

“You are so beautiful”, he softens, contemplating your y/c eyes, how alluring they are. Anakin sighs, this is the moment where passion gives place to sentiment.

“Let me photograph you into this light”, you manage to release your wrists off his grip so you can hold his face. “You are like the knight of my stories. You are my chosen one.”

“I do not wish to lose you. You sound like a song, and fuck this reminds me of when we were young”, he whispers, leaning his forehead against yours. “I love you, angel.”

As slowly your fingertips start to remove his clothing, tossing away his dark cape, you wrap your legs around his waist. Already with a friction aching in your feminine parts, you, however, are completely emotional.

“I love you, my prince. We may not be younger anymore, but our love, the bond that unites one to the other, is timeless.”

You pursuit his lips and soon the sentimentalism steps aside for passion to arise again. He senses your arousal and does not take any more time before he inserts one finger and then two.

“Ah!”, you gasp in surprise.

“So damn wet for me”, he groans, sensing his own manhood pumps against the leather of his pants in complete rigidness. “This always brings me to the day I felt you for the first time.”

You arch your back, speechless. He tortures you like he knows he does, smirking in delight when seeing you going under his touch, crying out his name.

The throne room is not so quiet anymore as he makes you see stars—not only literally. Vader burns with you in every meaning. His eyes scan your face, moving to your hardened nipples that require his heavenly touch. By using the force, he has where he wants you to be: undone.

You are a mess, but you are not finished yourself. Aware of your impure thoughts, Anakin’s now Vader. And he has you going to his knees.

“Yes, Emperor”, you whisper, voice lightly choked with desire as he uses the Force to hold your wrist behind your back. “What is it you want?”

Caressing your face and moving to your neck, he once more stimulates your nipples before going back to his former position. Putting away his manhood, Vader groans at you.

“I want you the way you want me.”

You side smirk at him, no more playing the innocent one, the role you liked to play before he subdues you to his will. Vader takes a great like of your secretive side too.

And what’s better is that you do like taking him with your mouth, never for a second breaking eye contact.

And so it goes for some time. But before he does come to your mouth, every gentleness dies when you are lifted and, once again pressed against the wall, he slides his manhood within you.

***

Feeling his skin so close against yours, locking bodies when two move as one, is a sentiment that brings pure delight to you. Vader too, he is not indifferent to the waves of emotions that bring you ashore.

“Come to me, angel. Take me to Heaven”, he whispers hotly in your ear like a prayer.

And his hands play a great deal in helping you experience such an unnamed bliss.

“Oh Anakin!”, his name is screamed, overcoming his groans as he comes within you.

“Yes?” Lord Vader smiles down at you, eyes glinting with joy.

You cup his face and peppers it with kisses, so devoted you are to him.

“I love you. By the Maker, I do”, you moan softly.

He rubs his nose against yours, cuddling tight for one single moment.

“So do I, princess”, he whispers against your ear, wiping away some locks of your hair that are glued against your face because of the sweat. “We should better get dressed.”

“We should”, you agree between giggles.

When you two look at each other one more time, it does feel like when you were young again. There is serenity and peace, but now the certainty that nothing will ever stay in your path again.

[scaramouche-writes]

Mini smutshot

Okay, like I promised here y'all go! (Feeding my children) And don't forget, requests ARE open. TW: Fingering, oral sex, raw sex, cunnilingus, degrading acts, and foul language, Scara's a bitch...per usual though. Also I am sooo sorry Kazuha's is short, I couldn't think of what to write for him. Enjoy, loves <3 Y'all have been warned. Don't come at me please 😭😭😭 2.1k words

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Scaramouche/Wanderer:

He was gone again....for work...you sighed. You felt very lonely. It was hard when he had to leave...sure you may have been used to it at this point, but you still couldn't help but feel a twinge of pain in your chest when you heard he had to leave. And to add onto the stress of worrying about him, and when he'd get home, you had to deal with a boss who severely underpays his workers, leading them all to be grumpy. You were supposed to get your paycheck today, and when you didn't, you marched straight over to your boss, who just shrugged and said. "Sounds like a problem that YOU need to take care of. Not me." And my god were you pissed. You were ready to break someones face in. This entire 3 weeks, it's been like this. Get up, go to work, get mistreated, go home, eat dinner alone. It was like that all the time. You were getting so tired and frustrated because of it all. It was just too much for you to take in. When Scaramouche FINALLY came home, he was exhausted and ready to just get wrapped up in your embrace. But you just denied him. You quite literally turned your body away from him, and face the wall, with your arms crossed over your chest....Sure it was petty, but you wanted him to feel the same way as you did, when he left you pent up, and by yourself. Annnnddddd let's just say Scaramouche didn't take that too well. He gripped your shoulders. "Hey, what the hell y/n?! Pay attention to me."

He waved a hand in front of your face "Hello. I'm talking to you!" He said clearly frustrated with your attempts at ignoring him. His deep violet eyes, clearly had a hint of desperation in them. "Fuck off." Was all you said to him, as you shoved his hands off of you. "What's your deal?" Scaramouche asked in a snarky tone "I DON'T have a 'deal' I'm fine" You snapped back "Really? Because to me, you're acting like a little prissy pants." You had already been feeling shitty, and when he said that, you lost it. You quickly snapped your head to face him, and slapped him across the face. The room was silent...the only thing that could be heard, was the slap echoing throughout the room. His head was forced to the side as you hit him. He slowly turned back to face you. Scaramouche looked pissed. Pissed as all hell. He roughly shoved you against the wall "You dare do that to me!?" He was not happy You only glared at him, which fueled the already tense energy of the room. "Don't act like you're everything just because you were chosen for a 'important mission'" You snapped back at him He got up real close and personal to you, so close that you could feel his breath against your lips glaring with his hate filled eyes. "You have NO right to lay a hand on me like that." He answered back. "Do not EVER do that again. Do you understand me?" He asked clearly not in the mood for games. You didn't answer him, which caused him to roughly grab your jaw in one hand, as the other held you to the wall "I SAID do you understand me?" He spoke clearly and loudly "No" You said back, just trying to push his buttons at this point...which he won't lie, it worked. You were severely pent up, and ready to piss him off so much until he fucked you dumb. He growled at you and pushed you farther into the wall. And then out of no where, he suddenly slammed his mouth onto yours. It wasn't pretty, or all that nice. It was sloppy and he kind of hit your teeth with his. His hands went under your shirt, and he started taking off your bra, as he smushed his body onto yours. Once the bra was off, all hell broke lose. Scaramouche rubbed your sensitive nipples in his fingers, twisting and pinching them. You let out a soft cry of pleasure into the kiss. When you moaned Scaramouche smirked wider. He grabbed a fist full of your tit and massaged it in his hand. You whimpered and whine, practically begging for more When he pulled away, he smirked at you "Do you really think you deserve this?" He scoffed "Because after what you pulled, I don't think so." His hands moved from under your shirt, to your ass, he roughly grabbed the piece of flesh in his hands and squeezed. His hands slipped under your skirt, and to your dripping heat. You weren't wearing panties.... "What a naughty girl" Scaramouche mocked "Well, there's only one way you get naughty girls to do what you want" He without warning roughly shoved his fingers into your cunt, and started pumping his fingers in and out of you, with no mercy. You let out a cry of pleasure, as your body begun to shake at the unexpected amount of pleasure that just went through your body, that felt oh so electrifying

Let's just say, you won't be going back to work for a couple of days....

-------------------------------------------------------------- Kazuha:

Kazuha was a quiet and reserved kind of guy. You did do quite a bit to try and get his attention though. Wearing lingerie Saying dirty things Sharing your fantasies Your wants and desires, But nothing seemed to be enough. You wanted more....and he just wasn't giving you his all. You wouldn't stop though. Not until you finally fix this little.....problem....of his. You had been accompanying him on his mission to help the traveler. Though sometimes it felt like he gave the traveler more attention than you. It was frustrating to say the least. You walked hours through different types of environments, and while all of them were pretty in their own way, none of them were as pretty as your white haired boyfriend. He was constantly talking to the traveler and it was no longer just frustrating. You were done with it. So done. And once you called him out for it, all he said was a soft "Sorry" And that was it. No plan on what he was gonna do to fix it, or any comfort. You had all just come back from the fight with the Shogun, and you were currently cleaning his wounds. You sat on the bed with alcohol in your hand dabbing the gash on his back/ You leaned forward, next to his ear and whispered "You gonna stop right?" "Stop what?" Your poor clueless boyfriend asked. You suddenly pressed on his gash, making his back go straight up, and he winced a little. "Hey...what was that for?" He asked still not sure what was going on "Well if you had just promised not to be so touchy with the traveler, we wouldn't have a problem, would we?" You asked switching your position so that you were practically on top of him. Tonight would be the night. Finally. You'd make him go all out. "I guess you care about the traveler more than me." You spoke. "Y-you know that's not true y/n....." Kazuha said a bit flushed at the sudden change of position. "Yes you do. You just love them and want to protect them more than you ever would with me." You said back. You two went on like this for a while. Back and forth "This happened and you don't love me" To "You know that's not how it is." Eventually he got a little fed up with your behavior and without much warning slipped his pants down and moved your panties to the side, slamming you down on his hard cock. You didn't get a chance to adjust before he started moving your hips for you. Kazuha bit his lip and let out heavy breaths. The suddeness of all the pleasure made you throw your head back and let out little groans. "Be quiet please." Was all he said, harshly, just also in a way that you knew he wouldn't hurt you. That night was a long night for you. But hey.....

You asked for it, right.

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Xiao:

You liked tracing your fingers along his tattoo. Drawing over the shape of it. You liked to make him sit down after a long day out, and you like to play with his messy blue hair, and trace his tattoo. It was a long day for him today. He came back home, all tired and sore. You offered a massage, but he decline. You wanted to help, but didn't know how.... You even tried to get him to sit down so you could play with his hair, and trace his tattoo...like always, but he was not having it. "No thanks y/n" "Look, I'm not in the mood" "Can you just leave me alone" And that's where you find yourself now... Alone in your room, with your knees to your chest while laying against the headboard, and Xiao out in the hallway pacing....Why was he so stressed? And why did he have to be so mean about it too!? ...You were just trying to help.... You could feel a lump in your throat, and tears in your eyes, but you quickly sniffled and wiped off the tears, clearing your throat. It felt like forever in a day, but finally there was a sudden eager knock on the door. You sighed. It was probably Xiao....you didn't want to talk to him now....especially in fear of letting him see the state you're in just because of his words. It was pathetic....I mean he was just stressed, he didn't mean it....right? So why were you so upset? You couldn't figure it out... The knock rang throughout the walls again, "y/n?" "Can we talked please?" He asked, with desperation coming out of his tone. You could tell he felt bad by the guilt that was evident in his tone. "What?" You asked back to him bluntly. The door slowly opened to reveal a short guilt-ridden man. Xiao went in cautiously going slow to make sure you were okay with this. Once he realized you weren't gonna throw a fit about it, he walked in more and shut the door behind him. At this point you had laid down and turned away from him. You couldn't look him in the eyes....at least not right now. Currently Xiao took a seat on the foot of the bed. He gently rubbed your legs, and turned you over to face him "Listen.....I'm...sorry...I shouldn't have been so rude when you were just trying to help." Xiao said with an apologetic soft smile. You sat up in bed and hugged him tightly. "It's okay...I know you didn't mean it" Xiao gladly accepted the hug, and squeezed you back tightly, letting his hands go under your arms, and around your body to meet once again. You both stayed like that for a couple of minutes. Soon Xiao pulled away and planted a kiss to the top of your head. "I'm gonna make it up to you, okay?" Xiao stood up and pulled you to the edge of the bed, grabbing you by your ankles. He slowly hooked his middle finger in your pants, and pulled them down. He tossed the now discarded pants on the ground...somewhere. He slowly got to his knees and spread your thighs open. You blushed and on instinct, you tried to shut your legs, to which he rubbed your thighs and looked up at you with a soft gaze. "Relax.....I'll take care of you...Don't worry." He then slowly moved closer to your wet pussy. The suddeness of the situation couldn't help but make you horny. He gently spread your lips apart with his index and middle finger, he then gave your cunt a few kitten licks before attaching his lips to your sensitive bud, and sucking. Your hands instantly went to grip Xiao's hair, in an attempt to get more friction. You threw your head back and moaned loudly "O-oh go-d~ X-xiao, yes...yes please that feels so good!" You whined out. Xiao only smirked and sucked your poor swollen bud harder. You crossed your thighs around his back, pulling him closer, causing him to moan against your heat, sending vibrations up your spine. I'd say he made up for his mistake, wouldn't you?

[ladylooch]

Drunk Me with Mat Barzal 

A/N: The people wanted angsty and fluffy. So, here is is :D 

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: Drunk, Swearing, Angst, smidge of smut but I’m not gonna slap a warning on it cause I kept it PG13 (you’re welcome or I’m sorry?).

All the promises I made to myself before I got to the bar tonight have been broken.

Don’t think about Mat.

Don’t mix your alcohols.

Don’t cry in the bathroom.

Each one of them is smashed to smithereens on the wet, worn floor of the bar in our hometown of Coquitlam, BC.

At that realization, I suck up the last of my “I swear this is my last” vodka soda. 

I look to my left where my best friend, Maggie, is laughing with her new boyfriend. I scoff bitterly. We were supposed to be hot messes together this summer coming off long-term relationship break ups. Now, she’s moving on with the new love of her life, while I’m left to wallow about Mat being back in town.

Mat and I broke up months ago. Nothing crazy even happened between us. It was just the reality that we were at a pivotal relationship moment and I couldn’t do it. Mat said we are both on different paths, growing in different directions, but I don’t see it. Things were good how they were. He ruined it. Maybe on purpose. Maybe it was all just an excuse for him. Maybe Mat wants to fuck puck bunnies. I don’t know. All I do know is there is a gaping hole in my chest where my heart is supposed to be.

My chest is now heavy with grief and I consider going to the bar to get another vodka soda. But the neon signs are already spinning and another sip of alcohol will have me back in the bathroom, clutching a public toilet. A heat wave surges through my body and agitation crawls on my skin as I look at Maggie again. So much for girls’ night. Her new boyfriend showed up with a group of his friends and it became clear why we came here when I wanted to go somewhere else. Anywhere else. I hate this bar. Mat and I used to sit in that corner booth, disappearing from our friend group to touch each other and whisper the hot things we would do later.

It hurts to be here. 

“I need some air.” I announce to the bar, lifting my long hair off my neck as a wave of nausea rolls through me.

Mat was wrong. We haven’t grown apart. We just… grew up, together, and yeah, I didn’t want to move to New York, but what was wrong with what we had? I flew out there regularly. I stayed for weeks until I had to leave the country again. It wasn’t my fault the U.S. government is so strict. Mat did bring up getting me a special visa that the other Islander’s girls utilized. But it felt too… daunting. After I said no, he started creating distance, then he came home just to leave me.

I should have said yes. I know that now. And I’ve gone back to that moment weekly since he’s been gone. Every time, I say the right thing.

I let my hair fall back onto my neck once I’m outside. Anger burns in my rib cage, fueling an unreasonable reaction. I decide, drunkenly and months later, that he had no right to ask me to move to New York. He put me on the spot. It’s my life and I get to choose for me. But he made it an ultimatum without even telling me. If he would have said move here or break up, I would have at least known what I was up against!

And I’m going to tell him that.

Before my rational brain can catch up, my phone is out of my pocket and in my hand. I pound at his name, once, twice, three times until I actually get the call to go through with my swirling vision.

“Hello?” He’s groggy and my stomach lurches out of my abdomen at the thought of him in bed.

“You know, I have something to say to you.” I slur at him. I ignore the way my throat tightens at the sound of his sigh.

“Y/N?” I can practically hear him rubbing his eyes sleepily on the other line. It is getting close to bar close and he sounds like he’s been asleep. I hear rustling on the other end.

“Are you with someone?” I whisper before I can stop it.

“No?” I suck in a breath at his sharp tone. “Where are you?”

“At Pete’s.” I say, making my way over to the wall and leaning against it.

“Are you with someone?”

“I was with Maggie, but she’s sucking some guy’s face right now. I just want to go home.” I kick at a pebble with my boot, not even registering the whining and desperation in my voice.

“Is that what you called to tell me?”

“I… guess.” I squish my eyes together. Mat is quiet on the other end. The silence in the air is filled with tension as I watch people leave the entertainment district, catching rides and heading to their beds, most of them not alone unlike me. It makes my skin crawl, thinking of my empty bed where he should be, holding me and stroking my bare skin after a night of loving each other. I purse my lips. “Will you come get me?” I beg quietly, tears filling my voice.

More silence.

“I’ll be there in five.” He finally says as I hear him walking through his bedroom to get dressed again.

“Okay.” I click end, then lean back against the brick wall to wait.

His expensive black car rolls up, dark tinted windows making it difficult to see inside. He comes to a stop in front of me as people on the sidewalk stretch their necks to get a peek of who it might be. I suck my cheeks in, watching as his driver’s side door opens. He stands, turning to look at me still leaning against the wall. His black Adidas shirt is stretched wide across his chest. His arms rest against the door and the top of his car as he takes me in. My make up has long since peaked, so black mascara smudges around my eyes along with smeared pink lipstick.

“Let’s get you home.” He finally calls to me. I push off from the wall, glancing at the passerby’s who study us curiously. Everyone in this town knows Mat. They know me too, but mostly as his ex-girlfriend. They wonder what we are doing together now. I reach the passenger side door, popping it open after stealing one last glance at his face. He looks so good, nothing like he was just fast asleep until a pathetic girl called him into the nightlife.

“Are you okay?” He asks, the clicking of his blinker filling the car. I nod my head. “Do you still live in the same place?” I wince, hating the reality that he hasn’t been over since the Islanders were in town in January.

“Yeah.” I finally respond. I pull my phone out, texting Maggie that I went home so she doesn’t worry about me. I don’t bother telling her with whom.

I thought I missed Mat earlier tonight, but being in this car, feeling his heat and smelling his body wash is a whole new level of ache. I shouldn’t have called him. I should have Lyfted home and deleted his number. 

“This is nice.” I motion to the vehicle.

“Thanks. I wanted an upgrade from last year.” I think of the instagram stories he shared from New York with his big breasted rebound.

“In many areas.” I snort, my drunkenness becoming obvious to him with my loose tongue. Thankfully, Mat lets that comment slide off into the darkness, never to be mentioned again.

“How’s your mom doing?” He asks, switching to a seemingly safety subject.

“She’s good. She has this huge collection of jewelry she’s been making for the county fair. Tons and tons of really great pieces. She’s proud of how it’s all coming together. My brother is even building these cool floating-” I stop abruptly. The county fair I’m talking about is the place Mat and I had our first kiss six years ago. I don’t want to remember that night right now. Mat turns, expecting me to continue. “Yeah, she’s good.” I finish, looking out the windshield as he slows to a red light.

“That’s cool. Maybe I’ll stop by the fair to see her this year. It’s been awhile since I’ve been…” He trails off like he’s getting lost in a memory. I’m not self-centered enough to believe it’s about us. An uncomfortable silence descends that makes Mat cough before attempting small talk again.

“Um, how are you?” He wonders, thumb stroking against the leather of his steering wheel. The air conditioning blows heavily on my arms, making goosebumps tighten my skin. I push the vents to face away. Mat reaches for the air control, mumbling an apology.

“I’m… fine.” I finally settle on. “You?”

“Can’t complain.” He shrugs, turning onto my street.

“Thanks for coming to get me.” I tell him as he pulls to a stop in front of my building. He puts the car in park, but keeps the car running. I undo my seatbelt, slowly letting it fall back into the door. I turn to look at him, dying inside at his beautiful gaze looking back at me.

“You’re welcome. Glad you’re safe… and okay.” His eyebrows are furrowed as he stares down at the stereo rather than back at me.

I wait for another moment. I’m not sure what more I am expecting from this. Unfortunately, my drunken mind fills in the silence with more thoughts of us and New York. I can still see the devastated look on his face when I said no to moving. I hate how things ended with us. I hate my contribution to it and I hate that it’s so damn awkward being with him now. I purse my lips together, feeling emotion clog the back of my throat. I reach for the handle, pushing the door open and stepping out. I toss my purse back onto my shoulder, then lean down to meet his gaze again.

“I’m sorry.” I say to him, poking my head back into the car. I can’t let him leave without him knowing that.

“For what?” He asks, hand gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles.

“For not moving to New York.” I shut the door, expecting to hear his car peel off into the street. Instead, the purr behind me ceases. The pop of his door follows.

“You can’t just say that to me and walk away. I know you’re drunk, but that is not fair.”

“I’m just being honest.” I shrug, reaching for my keys in my purse, thankful they are still there. His footsteps get closer until his fingers reach around to grab my keys from my hand. He touches the fob to the door and holds it open for me to walk through. I pause, studying him. His long black hair flows against his forehead in a large curl that adds to his sexy agitation. 

“Go, please. I can’t not walk you up. It doesn’t feel right.” He waves me in.

“You don’t need to do me anymore favors.”

“It’s not for you.” He shakes his head, following me into the building. I press the up button on the elevator, then select 4 for my floor.

Mat and I look at each other. I’ve made something shifted between us. I wonder if he feels it too. The depth of his eyes makes me think he does, but the truth is, I don’t know Mat as well as I used to. He’s changed in the last six months. Yet, my feelings for him are just as consuming. All the things I want to say to him are pressing into my tongue until it feels like I’m choking on the words. I’m too drunk and lonely and I miss the way it feels when he hugs me. I drop my gaze from his, lips twisting into a grimace.

Mat opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but in the end he doesn’t. We walk silently down to my apartment. Mat still has my keys in his hand. Slowly, he brings them between us for me to grab. Now, our transaction is done. He’s walked me to the door. I have my keys. How do we say goodbye?

“Thank you.” I finally say, turning to put the key in the door and flipping the lock.

“Call anytime. I’ll always be here for you.” Mat says, shoving his hands into the pockets of his shorts. “Goodnight.” He gradually turns to walk back to the elevator.

“Mat.” I hear myself sputter.

Uh oh.

“Yeah?” He asks, turning around, eyebrows furrowed like he’s struggling internally.

“Will you stay? I don’t think I can be alone.”

Unexpectedly, Mat agrees then walks back to me. Once I push the door open, he goes casually towards my bedroom like he has hundreds of times before, pulling his shirt over his head as he goes. The defined muscles of his back make my mouth go dry. 

Our bodies go into autopilot, getting undressed and ready for bed in the way we always used to. It isn’t long before we are both under the blankets, firmly on our own sides of the mattress. Timidly, I feel Mat reach for me. I take his hand, letting him roll me onto my side so we are looking at each other, legs touching. The darkness masks our faces in shadows.

“Mat?”

“Hm?” His breathy grunt is warm against my forehead.

“Do you think of me when you’re in New York?”

“Of course I do. Why else would I be here?” I contemplate that for a moment, then continue.

“Are you going to regret this tomorrow?”

“Only if you do.”

- - - 

The next morning, I awaken to sunlight rudely brightening my room. I groan into my pillow, feeling around for the spare pillow on the other side of the bed to bring back darkness. Instead of cotton, I come in contact with a face. Everything in my stills. I don’t remember much from last night, except a faint memory of fingers stroking my back. Did we…?

“It’s me and no we didn’t do anything.” I hear Mat say. His voice is deep and rich from sleep. It puts me at ease. Until he reaches across the bed, pulling me into his body. It’s so intimate as he seals my butt to his lap, back to his chest. His hand snakes around my stomach, holding me in place.

“What are you doing?”

“I need to tell you something, but I want to feel you in my arms while I do.” I still, barely breathing as I feel his calm heartbeat against my back. “I shouldn’t have asked you to move to New York. It was too much. I didn’t think you were going to say no, and I still don’t quite understand why you did, but I respect your choice.” My eyes close and I settle myself deeper into his body. He responds with a tighter grip on me, nose pressing to my shoulder until he speaks again. “I’ve been missing you… and us… When you called last night, and asked me to stay, I felt happy for the first time in awhile. I fucked everything up.” I put my hand on his over my stomach, interlocking our fingers together.

“Mat, I ruined this. I should have said yes. I was just really scared. What if I moved there and it didn’t work out? How was I going to come back here after that? I never let myself consider how much better it could have been. And I should have."

“You know, there is still time for you to change your mind. We could start slow. You move into my place here. Then, you move one suitcase at a time to New York until somehow all your stuff is there?” I smile, turning to press my lips into his forearm beneath my head. I want that. Desperately.

“On one condition.”

“Anything. Probably.” His lips brush against my neck as he speaks, practically kissing me. Each brush has lightning bolting through my veins. He gathers the courage to fully press his lips on my neck. I bring my hand around, holding his face to my skin, savoring his sweet touch.

“Tell me you’re still in love with me.” I whisper.

“Of course I am.” He murmurs. “How could I stop?”

“You’re the love of my life, Mat Barzal.” I turn awkwardly in his arms so our lips can connect. We make out. Every month, week and day we have spent apart has us greedily sucking each other. His hands run down my body, gripping my ass in his palms as I hook a leg over him.

“Somethings never change.” He says against my mouth, teeth connecting with my lips as he laughs. “Your nights at Pete’s still ends with mornings like this.” Mat ruts our hips together, building our excitement.

I think back to the promises I made in this bed last night before I went out, laughing at how each one of those broken agreements lead me to exactly where I wanted to be anyway.

Thank you, drunk me.

[sweetpinkchampagne]

tolerate it

pronouns: female pronouns are used

relationship: fem reader x stephen strange (marrieddd)

warnings: angst to the max, mention of the feeling to need to throw up or want to throw up

note: i titled this reluctantly because "wait by the door like im just a kid, use my best colours for your portait, lay the table with the fancy shit, and watch you tolerate it" reminded me of this, not in the respect that stephen is ignorant, but hes just absent.. (in this) ok i love you, i hope you enjoy. (major swiftie if u cant tell)

“are you kidding me?” your words echoed through the halls of the sanctum, bouncing off the walls and ricocheting back to where you were both standing. you weren’t angry, far from angry - you were downright livid. your cheeks were flushed and your ears were burning, there he stood with his stupid god forsaken ‘i'm sorry’ look plastered on his face. he let you speak, knowing that talking back would just add fuel to the fire. 

“one day stephen. one goddamn day, that’s ALL i asked you for.” your voice broke during the last part of your sentence, tears welling up in your eyes. it sounded selfish to somebody who wasn’t in your position. you knew he needed to protect the world, you knew that when you married him - but things weren’t working well lately. he was home late and gone before you woke up. it was as if you weren’t even in a married. you tried your best to be understanding, he had more important things to attend to - but jesus christ it hurt. it hurt waking up to a cold bed, preparing dinner for yourself, by yourself..

you bit the side of your cheek, furious with yourself that you had hot tears streaming down your cheeks as you sobbed looking at him from across the entrance of the sanctum. your throat burned, bile creeping up, you felt sick, nauseous constantly, and your doctor was never around to help fix it. he had to fix the world instead.

he had promised today was your day, one day away from the chaos of being an avenger and a sorcerer. he was called into work, something ‘non-negotiable’ came up. you had made a reservation at a restaurant you were both going to eat at tonight. deep down, you knew you had to cancel it, honestly there was no saying when he would be home. but you couldn't bring yourself to call the restaurant. again.

“baby…i’m so sorry. i know i haven’t been around lately”. he said softly, he hated seeing you cry. you stood there staring at him. fiddling with your shirt like a kid who just got in trouble.

“please understand my sweet girl..i have to go, it’s not going to be like this for the rest of my career, i promise.” 

he walked over to you, his arms wrapping around you. you wanted to scream, kick and fight. beat your hands against his chest in rejection and walk off. the last thing you wanted right now was an apologetic hug - but you gave in. sobbing in his arms, your head tucked into his chest as he cooed gently and rubbed your back soothingly. 

“i know honey.. i know. god i’m so sorry.” he kissed the top of your forehead, gently breaking away from the embrace. 

the sound of his boots padded outside as he left the sanctum sanctorum. and then he was gone.

[major-toast]

Alternative Rosekiller Playlist - pt. 1

Since this blog is purely for my entertainment, I thought to go ahead and list some songs I connect to either rosekiller or Evan and Barty as characters respectively. Of course, I'll explain my reasoning with each song.

Gauze - Deftones It's a mistake, but go ahead and take a side. But watch how you choose, or be headed for a ride.

Barty, especially canon compliant Barty. To spite his father, he chose to follow the lead of Tom Riddle, seeking thrill rather than logic. Manipulative as he is, it had been an easy thing to convince Evan to join their side, promising this is how they'll escape those, who oppress them. Untimely, it had been also the decision that would lead to their demise.

Entombed - Deftones From the day you arrived I've remained by your side. In chains, entombed.

Evan. Although he didn't necessarily like Barty at first - deemed him too obnoxious, too nosy -, Barty remained persistent. Essentially, Evan took a liking to him, remaining by his side even though their relationship was far from healthy. Barty is possessive, and no matter how hard Evan tried, he would have never gotten rid of him. His loyalty ended in his death.

Spine - WesGhost You're always in my mind, can I see you tonight? I'll meet you anywhere you like, I'll be over in five. It's only for the night, baby, is it alright? If I pretend that you're mine.

They are keeping their relationship secret at first. Evan pretends to be straight to avoid suspicion, but Barty knows his dirty little secret. One ghosting touch of his hand over Evan's waist, one breathed kiss into his ear, and Evan will grow pliant between his hands. Barty always wanted him, and he gets everyone he wants. Seeing Evan with other people only fuels the rage, the spite. He'll have him one day, and if he has to fuck him in love.

Waste My Mind - ThxSoMch Keep track of it all, replay every fault. My words are fake. Are you proud of me? 'Cause I choke before I talk.

If rosekiller is something, then it has to be toxic. Their communication is poor, and Evan withdraws into his mind rather than talk things out. He's scared of commitment, fears the consequences, what it could do to his freedom. But Barty clings. With no one there to love him, Barty would give his all to keep Evan as close as he can. If he had to, he would bury himself inside of Evan's bones, eat him whole. He'd follow him everywhere, but Evan's mind is the only place where he's being kept out, and he hates it. Losing him drives him insane in every universe, so no matter how often they break up, replay their own faults, they will always end up together again. It is simply how their fate works.

Always You - Depeche Mode My love, life's too absurd. My love, I could not explain. My love, why insanity reigns. And then, there's you, there's always you. The light that leads me from the darkness.

This one is an ode to Barty's dependency on Evan, and how possessive he grows over time. Especially within the last chorus, the line 'always you' grows more demanding, manic even. After Evan's death, Barty lost it all. Over the course of the war, Barty's mental state had deteriorated, and Evan had kept together what little had been left of his sanity. I believe, during his time in Azkaban and all those years later, Evan never fully left him. He felt the constant need to avenge him, felt his presence closer than ever. It was daunting, eery, but Barty would have rather died than lose even the last thing he could cling to. Sometimes, he'd talk to him as if he were still there, alive. With every breath he took, his grasp on reality slackened until the thought of the only love he ever felt - no matter how much of it had never been real love to begin with - consumed him whole. Shame, they never got to meet in the afterlife.

[joculatrixster]

"ill admit i dont watch sos nor raft streams but im calling out ppl who r calling scott specifically abusive and ive literally never seen anyone as vilinized as scott in fics i can think off the top of my head 3 fics ive seen where scott is the vilian and portrayed as jimmys abuser which is NOT true for anyone u mentioned." You can't say Scott is the only one villainized in the same breath as admitting you haven't seen content where other CCs get villainized by the audience.

Many of the *exact same people* who criticize Scott have also come out with posts talking about how uncomfortable Sausage makes them, some of them specifically citing his behavior toward Jimmy in SOS. Of course, I can't say that's true for everyone in fandom who criticizes Scott, but in my experience people critical of Scott are critical of others, too, regardless of their sexuality. Saying the criticism is fueled by homophobia doesn't track when the people criticizing Scott are also criticizing straight CCs/characters for very similar things.

Everyone has a different fandom experience based on what circles/fan archives/discussion boards they're on, and even on the same site people can have different experiences because of stuff like algorithms and who you're following. IIRC I have seen a fic where Grian, Jimmy, Joel and Lizzie were all siblings and Lizzie called out Grian and Joel for not being good brothers to Jimmy, while the only fic I've seen with Scott being "villainized" was a short ficlet where he did something small out of jealousy that didn't have any long term effects. I have actually gone *looking* for toxic FH fanfic and not found any. (I like complicated messy relationship story lines, so I feel like toxic FH in fic form would be fun to read.) Obviously this has not been your experience, but you seem to be treating your fandom experience as if it's the same for everyone else, which it's not.

its nnot just my experience when multiple multiple ppl have spoken out about how prominent it is specifically for scott again if its just a small issue id understand but the normalization is insane, ive seen a fic where scott turns jimmy into his pet doll and he needs to be saved from his clutches. ive read a gic where scott kills pearl and wants to destroy the entire world and has jimmy as his pet who he promised to keep as long as he stayed uner his thumb. ive read a fic where scott just leaves jimmy at the alter and pearl hunts him down and lashes out violently at him and we r meant to side w pearl for attacking him bc he didnt feel bad for poor jimmy. these were not obscure fics or small fics. u seem to assume an issue others r clearly pointing out theyve seen way more than others is only something some fridnge guy is complaining about instead of perhaps something UVE missed hm? uve seen 1 fic where joel and grian r kinda shitty to jimmy and get called out ive read multiple fics where scott breaks down jimmy as a person and needs to be saved from him, ive seen multiple posts calling irl scott smajor am abuser bc of one clip, ive seen pll say jimmy deadass is uncomfortable w FH and doesnt like scott which is just weird ass behavior. yes sausage gets flack i belive this but i haven't seen a shit ton of fics making sausage break jimmy soan mentally then get killed or punished in the end for being an irredeemable abuser. ive seen multiple of that for scott or just seeing scott in general in a veryyy negative light which is clearly due to an unfavorable interpretation of his character. which is fine, but name three fics where grian is intpreted that unfavorably w over 100 kueos. no seriously show me the fics where grian dies in the 3nd and its a thing everyone is happy about in the ficand they do not mourn him at all bc they hated him. go on!

its funny how ur orignal anon nitpicked my post and ur reply again nitpicks one part of a wider post as if the point i said was even what ur replyin to, im talking fandom space but even if i wasnt im talking life series fandom while i do mention oli thats just to ponnt out that One scott clip is not Just a scott thing, girl. vilinized in life series aka what i tagged, dont be stupid here its literally just making u look stupid 😭i used grian as an example bc hes someone who acts similar in the space i was criticizing and not sausage bc i am aware things may be different in a DIFFERENT context. ur majorlyyyy derialing and not rlly proving me wrong ur just proving that u dont rlly get what im saying which is fine but also all ur points r just...not disproving anything l. ur example is 1 grian and joel being criticized in one(1) fic(which is not what vilianized even means dude but hey ill give u this u did find one somewhat grian neg fic!) and 2 a guy not even in the fandom i tagged. girl...