#if i could only watch one thing for the rest of my life it would be mountaineering documentaries no contest <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[navybrat817]

Just.... Bucky getting on his knees and begging "honey, open your legs please" like he's a man that's been starving for months, him breathing and tasting through the panties because he's that impatient.

I love this so much, nonnie.

Sweet Like Honey

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky begs to have a taste when he gets home.

Word Count: Over 1.2k

Warnings: Oral sex (f. receiving), implied sex, possessive behavior, established relationship, slight feels, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: This feels like Feral Bucky. Hope you lovelies enjoy. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You sat on the couch fifteen minutes ago. You closed your eyes five minutes ago. It amazed you that you hadn't fallen asleep with how tired you were from your long day, but Bucky would be home shortly and you wanted to curl up with him before you dozed off. He’d find it sweet, and so would you.

You should've known he’d have other ideas.

“Hey, Bucky,” you mumbled when you heard his deliberate footsteps. When he didn't answer you cracked an eye open. “Bucky?” you asked, watching him toss his jacket away and flex his hands. He had a familiar look in his blue eyes. Not quite feral, but close.

Oh, he was hungry.

He pushed the coffee table out of the way with his foot and bent down to kiss your lips. Soft, but desperate, so it didn't surprise you when he dropped to his knees in front of you. “Honey, open your legs,” he demanded in a dark, deep voice once he pushed your dress up. One that made you grip the cushions when he rested his hands on your knees. “Please.”

“Well, hello to you, too.” You rolled your eyes, but your smile was affectionate. What had him so wound up? “At least you said please.”

“I did, now please open your legs,” he demanded again, but it wasn't as forceful. You heard a hint of desperation, the same kind you tasted on his lips when he kissed you. “I’m already on my knees.”

“You are,” you agreed and you loved how badly he wanted you. “But why should I open my legs for you? I’m pretty tired.”

His mouth fell open. You never passed up an opportunity for him to pleasure you, and you’d let him eat as much as his heart desired. But you wanted to hear him beg a little for it for no reason at all.

“Because I'm horny and hungry and your pussy is the only thing that’ll satisfy me,” he answered, looking at where your legs were still together. “C’mon. Pussy’s so good. I need it. I crave it. Soft as silk, sweet like honey.”

You moaned. They were good reasons. “Tempting, tempting, but you just ate my pussy yesterday,” you reminded him, which earned you an offended look from the love of your life.

“Yesterday. An entire day ago. Your pussy needs me,” he snarled, his fingers sliding to your thighs and digging in. “Or should I say my pussy?”

“Easy, tiger. We both know it’s yours,” you teased, burying a hand in his hair and making him groan when you tugged on the strands. His words could turn you into molten lava, and you were wet the second he dropped to his knees. “But opening my legs doesn't address the fact that I'm tired. You understand that.”

He smirked when your legs opened an inch. “I’m sorry you're tired, but making you feel good is the perfect way to get you to sleep. I’ll get you off on my tongue and fingers… Make you pass out when I get my cock in you.” He sounded wrecked as your thighs parted more, your core . “And I’ll carry you to bed and wrap you in a warm blanket.”

“And you’ll cuddle with me, too? If you’re demanding that I open up, I demand some cuddles,” you said. He’d cuddle with you even if you didn't demand it.

“Cuddle, snuggle, curl up with you, spoon you, can even keep me cock warm while I hold you,” he rattled off, smirking when you bit your lip. “Just let me eat, please.”

You hummed. It was tempting. And how many people could say a super soldier begged for just a taste of them? To fuck them? “Just how hungry are you and for what reason?”

Bucky licked his lips when you completely opened your legs and showed him your clothed cunt. “Fucking hungry and for no reason at all except your existence,” he growled.

You made a small noise when he dove in and inhaled, your face nearly burning from how hot it felt when he licked and tugged impatiently at the wet fabric with his teeth. “Bucky!”

“Told you. ‘m fucking hungry.” He licked the fabric again with a growl and nudged your clit with his nose. “God, you’re so wet for me. Need it on my tongue. Need it on my cock.”

“Fuck…” you whimpered. He wanted your pussy so badly he couldn't even wait for a proper taste. “Okay, you can eat.” He had begged enough in your eyes.

“Fucking finally.”

You scoffed. “Finally? You just-”

He ripped your underwear off and left you bare, drawing another breathless sound from you at the first touch of his mouth on your damp folds. He brought his hands to your hips and pulled you closer so he could open you up with his tongue, his broad shoulders keeping your legs apart. You nearly lost it when he plunged it deep inside and licked around your walls, his throaty moan making you shudder. Every lick and caress made you feel like you’d melt into the couch. The sensations were overwhelming, especially since your senses went from dull to heightened.

“Beautiful,” he rumbled.

“We both are,” you smiled. He made you feel beautiful, and he sure as fuck looked beautiful between your thighs.

“And I’m so…” His thumb on your clit had you pulling his hair. “Fucking…” You tightened around the finger that slipped inside your tight channel. “Hungry.”

There was no getting between Bucky and his meal. No stopping him once he had a taste, his fingers and mouth tender even as he devoured you. It almost didn't seem fair some days. All you had to do was flash your tits or spread your legs and the ex-assassin was lost to the world. Even after a long day you got to lay back while he pleasured you simply because he wanted you. You reaped all the benefits, came every time.

You’d make sure he came, too, before the night was over.

“You… really are hungry,” you moaned, your back arching when another finger. Bucky wasn't just an enthusiastic lover. He was attentive. He knew what made you tick and how to make you let go. “Fuck! There! Please!”

“Music to my ears, and you really do taste like fucking honey.” He gazed up at you with a smirk on his wet lips as his fingers curled. You tasted yourself on his lips before and it tasted nothing like honey, but who were you to argue when he enjoyed it so much? “Melt for me and I’ll carry you to bed on my cock.”

It didn't take you long to reach your peak of pleasure once his mouth was back on you, your thighs shaking and his name leaving your lips in a cry. He hummed and groaned as he tasted your release like it was the most delicious treat he ever had. You were aware that he called you a good girl as your vision blurred, and he also said he loved you as you rode out your orgasm. He may have even apologized for the “lack of foreplay”.

But as he carried you to bed with a kiss to your forehead and his cock buried inside you as promised, you knew he’d more than make that up to you.

The man needs you, okay? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[pomegranatelifethis]

Neglected mom-like reader?

They would care for everyone but everyone keeps ignoring them untill reader stop caring and they finally realize this and try to get reader back to normal untill Damien finally breaks down in their arms and reader cracks and comforts Damien by singing?

Ofc if you don't want to do this idea you don't have to!

AWARENESS

***English is not my native language***

Fading Light (Bruce Wayne x Reader | Batfam x Reader)

Wayne Manor was eerily quiet. The house, usually full of laughter, arguments, or the hum of life, now felt suffocatingly empty. You had once been the heart of it all—running around, taking care of the kids, making sure Bruce was okay when he came home after long nights in Gotham. But somewhere along the way, you started to fade.

Everyone was consumed by their own lives. Bruce was constantly disappearing into the night, and the kids, though they cared, were focused on their own battles. No one noticed when you began to pull away, when the smile that used to come so easily slowly started to vanish.

It was easier this way. You didn’t have to pretend anymore. But it also felt unbearably lonely.

You didn’t greet Dick with a smile in the mornings.

You didn’t make Tim his favorite tea when he was buried in his work.

You didn’t ask Jason if he was okay when he came home bruised or hurt.

You didn’t watch Damien train with the usual pride swelling in your chest.

And Bruce…

You stopped waiting for him.

At first, no one noticed. But over time, the absence of your warmth started to sink in. They didn’t realize what was missing until Damien, the most reluctant to show vulnerability, came to you.

That night, you were sitting by the window, staring out into the darkness, the faint moonlight casting soft shadows over your face.

"Mom..." Damien's voice cracked, breaking the silence. "Please... come back to us."

You didn’t respond.

Damien stepped closer, dropping to his knees in front of you, his voice trembling.

"Shout at us, scold us, do anything, just... don’t be like this."

And then it happened—Damien, always the strong one, broke down. His small body trembled, his fists loosening, as silent tears slid down his face.

Something inside you snapped.

Without thinking, you reached out, your hands threading through his dark hair, pulling him into your arms. Damien clung to you like he had nothing left, his body shaking as he buried himself in your embrace.

And you did the only thing you could.

You began to hum softly, a lullaby.

The same one you used to sing to them when they were younger, a melody that had always soothed them, a sound they had missed.

Damien’s breath slowed, his shoulders relaxed, but he didn’t let go.

In the doorway, the rest of the family stood silently, watching. Dick had his fist pressed to the wall, Tim’s eyes were closed, and Jason had his head lowered.

And Bruce…

Bruce stepped forward, his usual mask of control slipping for the first time in a long while. His eyes, usually so guarded, softened with an overwhelming regret.

He knelt beside you, his large, warm hands covering yours.

"I thought I lost you," he whispered, voice rough.

You met his eyes, and for a moment, there were no words needed.

That night, for the first time in a long time, you let yourself be held.

And for the first time, you truly felt seen.

[writeriguess]

i love your works and i have a request

bakugou x reader where the reader is the only one who can calm him down? he is arguing with kiri and she only has to look at him to calm him down and everyone is stunned by it

author's note: Thank you <3

Serenity

It was a normal day at U.A., or at least as normal as it could get with Class 1-A. Training had gone well enough, and everyone was winding down, gathering in the common room after dinner. That peace, however, didn’t last long—because Katsuki Bakugou and Eijiro Kirishima were at each other’s throats.

Again.

“You’re so damn stubborn, Bakugou!” Kirishima snapped, his usual easygoing demeanor nowhere to be found. His sharp teeth bared slightly, frustration clear in the way his brows furrowed. “Why can’t you just let someone help you once in a while?”

“I don’t fucking need help!” Bakugou growled, hands twitching at his sides as small explosions crackled from his palms. His crimson eyes burned with intensity, shoulders tense and jaw clenched. “I’m not some weakling who needs to be babysat, shitty hair!”

It wasn’t unusual for Bakugou to get like this. He had a short fuse, and sometimes, even Kirishima’s patience couldn’t keep up. The rest of the class had learned to steer clear when the blond was in one of his moods, but tonight, something felt different. His explosions were sparking closer to the ground, the air crackling with the raw energy of his anger.

“Dude, we’re your friends!” Kirishima pressed on, his voice rising to match Bakugou’s. “We’re not saying you’re weak, but—”

“I don’t need a damn pep talk!” Bakugou interrupted, his voice nearly a roar now. His fists clenched tightly, explosions bursting erratically at his sides. “I—”

You sighed.

You had been sitting on the couch, watching the argument unfold, but now, you decided it had gone on long enough. Without a word, you stood up and stepped between them, placing yourself directly in front of Bakugou.

And then—

You looked at him.

Not with fear. Not with exasperation. Just looked at him.

His breath hitched. The tension in his shoulders sagged almost instantly, and the crackling explosions from his hands flickered before fizzling out completely. His hands dropped to his sides, fingers flexing as though searching for something to do now that they weren’t radiating anger. His brows knitted together, his lips parted slightly, and a deep exhale left his chest as if he had been holding it in this whole time.

The entire room went silent.

The rest of Class 1-A exchanged glances, stunned beyond words.

Kirishima blinked, taking half a step back. “Uh… what the hell just happened?” he muttered, looking between you and Bakugou like he had just witnessed an act of sorcery.

“Did… did Y/N just calm Bakugou down?” Kaminari whispered, eyes wide.

“No way…” Mina breathed, leaning forward as if she needed to see it closer to believe it. “That’s impossible.”

Yet, it was happening.

Bakugou, who had been one second away from either blowing up the room or storming off in rage, now stood completely still, his face unreadable. His sharp, furious crimson eyes had softened, the tension in his body had drained away, and the only thing that had changed was that you had looked at him.

You tilted your head slightly, your eyes searching his, waiting for him to say something.

His jaw clenched. Then unclenched. Then, in a voice much quieter than before, he muttered, “Tch. Whatever.”

That was as close to an admission of surrender as anyone would ever get from him.

Your lips curled into the smallest of smiles, and that alone made Bakugou avert his gaze with a scowl, rubbing the back of his neck as if embarrassed.

The silence stretched, thick with disbelief.

Sero was the first to break it. “Holy shit,” he said, staring at you with newfound awe. “That was… insane.”

“Right?” Kaminari agreed, his mouth slightly agape. “I’ve literally never seen Bakugou calm down that fast in my life.”

“You might actually have superpowers,” Mina whispered, completely serious.

“Forget heroes,” Kirishima said, blinking at you. “You might be a damn miracle worker.”

Bakugou clicked his tongue. “Shut up,” he grumbled, though there was no bite to his words. His usual anger had dimmed into something else—something quieter. Something softer.

You simply shrugged, turning back to the couch and sitting down again like nothing had happened. “You guys overreact too much,” you said lightly, leaning back into the cushions.

“We overreact?” Mina scoffed. “You just tamed a whole-ass dragon with one look.”

Kirishima shook his head with a small chuckle. “Man, that was wild.” He crossed his arms, his frustration from before already forgotten. “But hey, at least it worked.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bakugou grumbled, rubbing his temples. He was still looking at you out of the corner of his eye, like he was trying to figure out exactly how you did what you just did.

The others continued murmuring about it, but you just shot Bakugou a small smirk before focusing back on your phone.

And despite himself, despite all the eyes on him, despite how infuriatingly obvious it was that you had some kind of effect on him—Bakugou didn’t look away.

He just sighed, stuffed his hands into his pockets, and sat down next to you, the tension completely gone.

Like it never existed in the first place.

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

todays the day | s.r. x fem liaison!reader

something in the air told you. today was the day. you were gonna marry spencer reid, well first a proposal should happen then the marriage. but you didn’t need a huge wedding anyway, you just wanted to marry that man.

last month marked three years of dating, this month marked a year of living together, and today will mark a new occasion. you knew after your first anniversary that spencer was the only one for you and he even told you himself “i still can’t believe i get to call you mine. one of the few good things out of my life.”

so today was the day. it was a rare day off from work, fingers crossed for the whole twenty-four hours, and the two of you were just enjoying laying in your bed until noon. spencer curled up as you big spooned him, nose nuzzled into his lean neck, spencer’s hands holding onto yours that hugged his torso.

a delicate press of lips to skin, “spence…” wanting to wake him up slowly. he shifted and hummed in his throat, you pressed another kiss at the bottom of his neck, “i need to ask you something.”

you heard his deep inhale then he slowly rolled over so now the two of you were eye to eye. his sleep heavy eyes blinked slowly and his lips barely curled up, “hi.” the word an octave lower.

you brushed some rough curls away from his eyes as you drank him in, “hi handsome.” whispering to keep the atmosphere warm. his large palm came to sit on your exposed hip, his thumb rubbing into some of the soft flesh of your stomach. “what’d you want to ask me?”

you let your fingers trail along his profile, “will you, spencer reid, will you marry?”

he smiled, “of course i’ll marry you.” giving his answer as more of a statement then the finite answer. “i just wasn’t expecting you to be the one asking, not that i’m against the norm, but yes of course i want to be married to you.”

you pushed onto your elbow, “no, i’m serious spencer. would you like to get married, as in today. at the courthouse.”

now spencer sat up, a slight concern to his pretty features. “are-are you sure? well first, yes i want to marry you like i said. that’s a no brainer for me, but don’t you want a wedding ceremony?”

you shook your head, moving your body so you were able to rest both knees at spencer’s hips. you grabbed both his hands and intertwined your fingers, setting them on your chest. “i just want to be married to you. i don’t need a big fat greek wedding, or a-a million guest watching us say i do. although i would like us to get some professional pictures taken, but that can wait.”

three kisses to the back of spencer’s knuckles, “i don’t really want to wait any longer. and we’ve both said it, we love each other and always talk about our futures. so let’s start making them come true. i want to be able to call myself mrs.reid.”

spencer smiled and his eyes shown brightly in the afternoon light, “do you really want to get married today?”

“absolutely. i don’t think i could wait another moment being single-ish.” needing to restrain yourself from getting jumpy.

“okay, we’re getting married today! we’ll work everything out as we go.” spencer agreeing to your spontaneously ridiculous request and you screeched in delight. throwing your arms over his shoulders and holding him tight. “we’ll call penelope as our witness.”

“oh she’s gonna love and hate us.”

[seokminfilm]

longing to long for him ♫ lee seokmin

♫ pairing, lee seokmin x reader ♫ warnings, non-idol au, ceo au, husband seokmin, reader and seokmin have a baby girl, angst, hurt/no comfort, one allusion to being nude ♫ synopsis, you hate the feeling of being so close yet so far away.

♫ author's note, trying out a new layout! let me know your thoughts on it 🤍 been listening to same dream, same night, same mind by svt and suddenly had this urge to write something angsty with seokmin so here you go!! hurt no comfort too?? am i going insane?? (yes)

♫ now playing, same dream, same night, same mind, seventeen

♫ word count, 1.8k | for @kstrucknet

"welcome home, seokmin." your voice feels empty as you speak, but you bypass it, allowing your husband to bring you into his chest for a equally-empty hug.

being married to lee seokmin came with its ups and downs.

as the hardworking ceo of his own corporation, passed down to him by his grandfather, he always had a full, busy schedule. when seokmin wasn't busy in his office at home, he was on the road, driving from one meeting to another from sunrise to sunset.

as the youngest couple in the midst of seokmin's business partner circle, you were used to the so-called "advice" the older, married ladies would share with you at company dinner parties, as if it made the reality of your situation any better.

"there's no more time for love or play, now that mr. lee is climbing the ranks. you might as well get used to loveless nights, overdramatic reactions, and distant conversations. it happens to the best of us." one lady had said while stroking your back as if you were a miserable cat, and your skin boiled with anger, hoping that the lady would just drop dead.

the night you and seokmin had said "i do", he had laid down in your untouched hotel bed beside you, face and body still warm from the wedding's festivities. the sparkles in his eyes still haunt your memory to this day, and you could remember his sentence word for word, the feeling of his soft hand on your cheek as he looked into your eyes.

"no matter what happens from now until eternity, you'll always be on my mind."

that sentence was simple, but complex enough to make you teary eyed as seokmin hugged you, body engulfing yours as the sheets seemed to protect you from the harsh cold─the harsh cold being life without lee seokmin in it.

now, all you could feel was that cold.

"how's mihan?" seokmin's voice was tired, layers of disappointments and annoyance seeping into his words. his eyes were tired too, gaze harsh as he stripped himself of his shoes.

his styled hair was still flawless from this morning, and the sharp point of his nose was highlighted by the light shining down on him as he looked at his sleeping baby girl in your arms. she had your eyes and his nose, resting peacefully in her swaddle as you sighed, giving a small smile if only for her.

"she's doing okay. she's been sleeping all day." you say, and seokmin nods, sighing as he leans against the countertop. he stares up at the light, eyes unflinching as he shuts them tightly seconds later. the sigh that leaves his lips is felt, and your heart falls a little bit more, watching him bypass you without another word and disappear into your shared bedroom.

it hurts to see him leave without another kiss or tight hug like he used to do. as much as you wanted to ignore the warnings given to you in the early stage of your marriage, they were like bright stage lights, illuminating the things even you wanted to deny.

love used to be such an integral part of you and seokmin's marriage, and now, no matter how hard you looked or tried to pretend, you couldn't see it anymore. you couldn't remember the last time you or seokmin had said the phrase 'i love you' without sounding tired or empty, and it made your heart ache.

tears pricked the corner of your eyes as you walked to your bedroom, and mihan stirred in your arms, lips turning into a small smile as her tiny fingers clung to your shirt─the faded smiski tee seokmin had let you have the first time you had come home with him.

even he didn't recognize the shirt now. that, or he just didn't care anymore.

sitting on the bed after putting mihan to bed in her crib just a few steps away from you, you wipe the now freely falling tears from your eyes, wedding ring glinting on your finger as you chew at your lip, falling silent as the shower turns off in the bathroom.

soft piano lullabies play from your phone to calm down both you and mihan, and you sigh, turning away from the door as it opens to reveal seokmin's fresh face and toned figure, sweatpants thrown on around his waist as he scrubs his face dry.

your eyes meet for a second, taking each other in, and for a moment, it feels like old times again─the shyness you feel rising up in your body is just like when you saw seokmin nude for the first time, and it makes you turn away again, holding back fresh tears.

seokmin cleans up his mess, throwing his suit in the clothes hamper as he combs his fingers through his wet hair. his dark brown eyes seem to have more shadow under them, and he slowly makes his way to the bedside, crashing onto the sheets without a second thought.

silence goes through the room like a blaring siren, suffocating in nature as you look over to your husband. he's already fighting sleep, letting the silence and drip of the showerhead lull him to dreamland. his face is relaxed now, eyes half-lidded as he meets your gaze.

something lingers behind his eyes, but you don't know what, and before you can work up the courage to speak, he falls asleep, leaving you to long for him even more.

how long would you be longing to have lee seokmin back?

[cruel-seduction]

Beyond Fears 

Summary - With the biggest exam of your life coming up, stress is eating you alive—but Mattheo refuses to let it win. He’ll do whatever it takes to pull you out of your own head, even if it means causing a little chaos. But when the truth behind your fear comes out, he’s ready to remind you of one thing—no matter what happens, he’s not going anywhere.

Content Warning - Suggestive theme and Curse words. 

Glimpse - “And as for your stupid little fear that I’ll find someone else—ugh, babe, do you think I’m insane? That my brain is rotting?” His lips twitched into a smirk before softening again. “Do you think I’d willingly trade you—the love of my fucking life, the only person who actually laughs at my dumb jokes, the only one who knows exactly how I like my coffee, the only soul on this godforsaken planet who makes me feel like I belong—for anyone else?” His voice was raw now, honest in a way that made your chest ache.

His forehead pressed against yours, his nose brushing yours as he whispered, “Baby, there is no one else. There never will be.”

a/n - Credit goes to @bernardsbendystraws. And also I wrote this based of on a scene from my fav show. Cause I needed to do crying reader over valid reason and this seem like best. And she does portrays that she is strong. but Mattheo is Mattheo bro.

Requested by @jarjarbinks-har-har

Mattheo could feel the tension rolling off you from a mile away—thick, restless, electric. Anxiety coiled around your frame like an iron grip, tightening with every breath you took. The upcoming exam loomed over you like a storm cloud, its weight pressing down on you with an unbearable force. If you passed, you’d be the youngest woman in history to earn a seat at one of the most prestigious higher education institutions for witches and wizards. The pressure was suffocating, an invisible noose tightening around your throat.

You weren’t the only one feeling it. Mattheo was tense too, but not because of the exam. No, he was wound up because of you—because your stress became his stress, your suffering bled into him like an open wound. He’d tried everything to ease your nerves. He took you to your favorite coffee shop, bought you anything you wanted, even tried distracting you with jokes and stolen kisses—but nothing worked. You were drowning in books, lost in your relentless pursuit of perfection, and no amount of comfort could pull you out.

Eighteen hours. That’s how long you had gone without sleep. Maybe more. You were running purely on caffeine and raw determination, your veins practically humming with exhaustion. Dark circles didn’t just shadow your eyes—they owned your face, carved into your skin like permanent bruises. At night, you sang old traditional songs in a hollow, eerie voice, studying by torchlight like some deranged scholar possessed by ancient magic. Your roommates had given up on you, groaning in frustration as your muttered revisions carried into the early hours. Even when Mattheo convinced you to crash in his dorm, you never truly rested. You just laid there beside him, whispering formulas, theories, and incantations under your breath, your fingers tracing invisible notes on his skin. It was getting out of hand.

Mattheo watched you now, his jaw clenched as he took in the sight before him—you, hunched over a book in the Great Hall, a cup of coffee gripped in one trembling hand, barely picking at your food with the other. Students all around were suffering through exam stress, but Mattheo didn’t give a damn about any of them. You were the only one who mattered. And watching you unravel like this was killing him.

Sitting beside him, Theodore Nott let out a low whistle. “Mate, what the hell is wrong with her?” he muttered, following Mattheo’s gaze.

Mattheo exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “That stupid exam is next week. She’s pushing herself too hard. If she doesn’t pass, she won’t be able to retake it for another four years. That would completely screw up her entire life plan.” His voice was tight, frustration laced beneath the concern.

Theodore huffed a laugh, lips curling in amusement. “Please, it can’t be that serious. No one plans their life around one exam.” Mattheo’s eyes darkened as he turned toward his friend. “It’s her wallpaper.” Theodore’s brow furrowed. “What?”

Mattheo ran a hand through his hair. “The life plan. It hangs over her bed.” Theodore’s mouth formed a small ‘O’ of realization, his amusement fading into something more thoughtful.

Mattheo knew this couldn’t go on. He couldn’t just sit back and watch you self-destruct. No, he had to do something.

And he knew exactly what to do.

Later that day, Mattheo found you exactly where he expected—in the library, buried under an avalanche of books, your fingers gripping a quill like it was the only thing keeping you tethered to reality. Without a word, he sank into the chair beside you, drumming his fingers against the wooden surface.

You didn’t even glance up, just exhaled a frustrated sigh before whispering, “Don’t waste my time. Just say what you wanna say.”

Mattheo smirked, leaning back in his chair with that signature arrogance, the kind that both infuriated and charmed you in equal measure. “Babe, don’t worry. You’re gonna crush it. You could take this exam with one eye closed and still beat half these idiots. And most importantly—” he paused, his voice softening slightly, “—even if you don’t, it’s fine. You got this.”

Your eyes snapped to his, narrowing. “You don’t know what you’re saying,” you scoffed. “You’re only saying this because you love me. Love has made you dumber.”

Mattheo let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “No, I don’t think so. If anything, love has made me smarter. See, I haven’t picked a single fight this whole month.”

Your lips twitched despite yourself, a ghost of a proud smile appearing. “Yes, I am very proud of you for that. But if you don’t get the hell out in ten seconds, I will personally break your nose.”

Mattheo grinned like he’d been waiting for exactly that response. In a single, swift motion, he grabbed your wrist, yanking you to your feet before you could protest.

“What the hell, Mattheo?!” You struggled against his grip, your chair scraping noisily against the floor as he dragged you out of the library. Heads turned. You scowled. “Stop! I swear to Merlin, if this is another one of your—”

He didn’t stop. He didn’t even slow down, only coming to a halt when he shoved open the door to an abandoned classroom and pulled you inside.

You shot him a glare as you yanked your arm free. “This better be good, Riddle, or I’m hexing your balls into oblivion.”

Mattheo’s smirk widened as he leaned casually against a desk, arms crossed over his chest. “Since you’re so stressed, I figured—why not give you a test?”

Your eyes darkened, your irritation sharpening into a glare. “Are you serious? You dragged me here for a fake test? These things are useless, Mattheo. They don’t have the same pressure, the same distractions. It’s all too damn quiet and perfect, like the walls themselves are whispering the answers.”

Mattheo tilted his head, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Yeah, I figured you’d say that.” He clapped his hands together once, and suddenly, the door swung open.

In walked Abby and Scully from Ravenclaw, each lugging twenty-five bags of chips. As they sat down, they immediately started munching—loudly. Crunching, smacking, licking their fingers like they were trying to break a world record for obnoxious eating.

Your eye twitched.

But that wasn’t all. Right behind them, a group of students filed in—loud ones. The kind who couldn’t stay quiet if their lives depended on it. They bickered, they whispered, they tapped their quills against the desks, they fidgeted like caffeinated squirrels.

Mattheo leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispered, “Better prepare yourself, Y/L/N. This is your battlefield.” Then, with a wicked grin, he added, “And I know you wanna rip my clothes off right now, but you’re gonna have to wait and ace this test first.”

You stepped closer, so close that he sucked in a breath, his smirk faltering just slightly. Your voice dropped to a sultry whisper, just for him.

“I am so fucking turned on by you right now.” You smirked. “Give me five minutes to destroy this test. Then? You.”

Mattheo’s mouth fell open slightly, like he’d just been hit by a Confundus Charm.

You winked, snatching up the test from his hands, and took your seat, utterly unbothered by the chaos around you.

Mattheo, still standing there, watching you with something dark and heated in his gaze, let out a quiet, disbelieving chuckle.

“Fucking hell,” he muttered. “I think I just made studying sexy.”

Mattheo sat outside on the Quidditch field, staring up at the darkening sky, the cool breeze doing nothing to temper the frustration simmering in his chest. His fingers fidgeted with a stray blade of grass as he replayed the events of the day over and over in his head. He was about to go find you himself when he noticed Abby and Scully trudging toward him, looking particularly sheepish.

“We’re out of chips,” they said in perfect unison.

Mattheo blinked. Then scowled. “What the hell? I gave you fifty packets. And I told you to stay in that damn room.”

Scully shifted uncomfortably before muttering, “About that… Y/N kinda… vanished.”

Mattheo’s stomach dropped. His jaw clenched. “Vanished?” His voice was eerily calm, but his eyes—oh, his eyes had darkened into something deadly.

Abby nodded. “Yeah, she just—poof. One second she was there, the next, gone. No idea where.”

Mattheo shot to his feet, his entire body thrumming with tension. “I asked you to do one thing,” he snapped, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “One fucking thing—and you couldn’t even do that?” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Move aside.”

It was almost nightfall, and Mattheo, along with his friends, had been searching for you for over an hour. You were nowhere to be found. His mind churned with possibilities—were you upset? Were you hiding? Had something happened? And then, like a punch to the gut, it hit him.

Today’s date.

Mattheo stopped in his tracks, exhaling as realization settled over him. “I know where she is,” he muttered. “Go back to the dorms—I got this.”

Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and headed toward the Potions classroom.

And there you were.

Curled up in a ball, tucked into the shadows, your arms wrapped around your knees as if holding yourself together. The dim candlelight flickered against your face, casting soft, golden hues over your tear-streaked cheeks. His chest tightened at the sight.

Mattheo said nothing as he stepped inside. He didn’t need to. Instead, he lowered himself to the floor beside you, his presence warm and steady.

You glanced up, your voice barely above a whisper. “How did you find me?”

His expression remained neutral, but his eyes—his eyes—were soft as they met yours. “15th of March.”

A humorless laugh escaped your lips, and despite yourself, a small, sad smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. “Of course.”

Mattheo’s lips curled into one of those rare smiles—the kind he didn’t give just anyone. “A year ago, today, we had detention together.” His tone turned teasing. “You spent the whole night pretending to be annoyed while secretly staring at me like I was the hottest thing you’d ever seen, and by the end of it, you were completely infatuated with me.”

You gave him a side-eye. “Mattheo.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine. You flirted with me for fifteen seconds, and I became obsessed.”

You let out a soft chuckle, shaking your head. “Sounds more accurate.”

A comfortable silence settled between you both.

And then, softly, Mattheo asked, “Babe, can you tell me the real reason why you’re scared?”

You hesitated for a moment before shifting closer, resting your head against his shoulder. His warmth seeped into you, grounding you, anchoring you.

“I didn’t even know why I was so tense before,” you admitted. “But when I was in that classroom, giving that practice test… I realized.” Your throat tightened. “Passing this test means going away from you. And I—I don’t know how to handle that.”

Mattheo stayed quiet, letting you speak.

“All these days, I’ve been drowning myself in books, trying to avoid thinking about it. But in that classroom, it hit me.” Your voice cracked. “Everything between us is so good right now. But what if leaving ruins that? What if we can’t make long distance work? What if me being gone changes everything?” A tear slid down your cheek, soaking into Mattheo’s shirt. “And what if—” your voice broke entirely, and you inhaled shakily, “—what if you realize that you deserve better? What if you find someone else, someone closer? Someone who isn’t a whole country away?”

Mattheo was quiet for a beat. Then, with a slow exhale, he shook his head and lifted his hands to your face, cradling your cheeks between his palms. He wiped your tears away gently, then—because he was still Mattheo—he wiped his hands off on your shirt, making you let out a watery laugh.

And then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he said, “Babe, listen to me—no, actually, shut up and listen, because I know that pretty little overthinking brain of yours is already running marathons.” His thumbs stroked your cheekbones, his touch featherlight. His gaze—intense, unwavering, filled with nothing but love—held you in place, made you feel every word before he even said them.

“Darling, if you don’t go—if you give up your dream for me—I swear I will throw myself into the nearest trash can and live there forever because that’s exactly where I belong if I let you do that.” His voice was steady, firm, convincing. “Baby, I want you to go. I need you to go. Not because I want to be away from you—hell no, I’m already dreading the distance—but because you’ve been dreaming about this since you were a kid, and the only thing worse than missing you would be watching you resent me for holding you back.”

You sniffled, lips trembling.

“And as for your stupid little fear that I’ll find someone else—ugh, babe, do you think I’m insane? That my brain is rotting?” His lips twitched into a smirk before softening again. “Do you think I’d willingly trade you—the love of my fucking life, the only person who actually laughs at my dumb jokes, the only one who knows exactly how I like my coffee, the only soul on this godforsaken planet who makes me feel like I belong—for anyone else?” His voice was raw now, honest in a way that made your chest ache.

His forehead pressed against yours, his nose brushing yours as he whispered, “Baby, there is no one else. There never will be.”

Tears slipped silently down your cheeks.

“So go. Conquer. Be brilliant.” He swallowed thickly. “And when you come back, I’ll be right here, still stupidly in love with you, probably crying into your hoodie and talking to your pictures like a lunatic.” He gave you a small, wry smile. “But I’ll be yours. Always.”

Your lips trembled. Your fingers clutched at the fabric of his shirt.

And then, with no warning, you surged forward, crashing your lips against his in a kiss so deep, so desperate, it stole the breath from both your lungs.

Mattheo exhaled into your mouth, his arms winding around you like he never wanted to let go.

And maybe, just maybe—he never would.

[atzluvz]

Through blood and petals

Series masterlist

A/N: As previously stated this is my first ff ! All opinions and feedback is appreciated :)

Pairing : Mafia!San x reader (not written in this chapter though)

Warnings : angst, san gets traumatized, major character death (it all works out in the end tho i promise) , san is in the mafia n highkey a serial killer...

Word count: 1.3K

Series Summary : San let his guard down once, and it cost him everything. Now, he’s built his walls higher than ever.Living with the weight of his past. But when a kind hearted florist enters his life, his carefully guarded world starts to crack. He swears he won’t make the same mistake twice; but some things are impossible to resist.

Chapter 1: No surprises

“A heart that's full up like a landfill. A job that slowly kills you, bruises that won't heal.”

San didn’t really like his career, and not the typical “I hate my job, aarrgghh!!!” kind of complaints. He genuinely despised it. And not that he could back out, oh no. Everyone knew once you joined the mafia, the only way out was in a casket. Maybe that’s why he learned to dissociate during work, leaving all his feelings and emotions behind in his cozy, luxurious penthouse. But what did that make him? A killer without emotions? A machine? No, that’s what made him the perfect asset to the Velvet Dagger Cartel: fast, effective kills with no attachment to his victims. San was there to do his job and make the evidence disappear like it never even happened. Each life he took was like checking off another item on his checklist. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw his targets as real people. That was, until he met her.

She was supposed to be like the rest, just another civilian to help expand their territory. But when San got his mission folder, something didn’t sit right. They never gave him undercover roles, let alone for a ridiculous three months. He was supposed to intern at the bakery where she worked, learn her schedule, poison her, and check her off the list. Simple. Clean. Efficient. But for some reason, everything about this felt wrong.

At first it was nothing. Just brief glances as she served pastries with a smile that was too warm for his liking, too much emotion, too much vulnerability. But as the hours merged into days, her laughter echoed in his mind when his shift was long over. How her voice would greet every customer with a level of kindness he doubted existed in this world, it started to tear him down. She was just a mission, nothing more.

But she had this refreshing feeling to her. She was nothing like the cold, calculating people he was used to. She had this aura that made everything feel softer. She’d talk about her dreams of opening a bakery, how she wanted to make the world a little sweeter, one pastry at a time. She shared stories of her childhood, how it was only her and her mom, but they managed. It was bittersuite she said, a loss of something to earn something else. Every detail about her life was wrapped in warmth, like the oven’s heat that surrounded the bakery. And the more San watched her, the more he saw her as something other than a target. She became a person, a real, breathing, beautiful person.

And suddenly it happened. He couldn't tell when the information he was supposed to extract turned into real interest. How he’d linger in the kitchen for too long, asking questions about ingredients or recipes, only to watch how her eyes lit up when she explained. Every smile she gave him felt like a small crack in the cold walls he’d built around himself. Not like she was blind to it, and he knew, they both knew the feeling between them wasn't platonic. Slowly the meetings discussing the bakeries turned into dates at a nearby cafe. And in those moments, san forgot all about his job. He was just … him. And she was just her. The more he fell for her, the harder it was for him to remember his purpose.

So, when the poison arrived, he couldn't bring himself to do it. Even after he learnt everything he was supposed to know. The way she would come in at 8:00 every morning and leave at 5:30 with a cinnamon roll in her hand every time, always with a smile. That stupid smile, the one that made him melt. She didn't deserve to die. She didn't deserve to become yet another name on his stupid list. But the mafia isn't forgiving. They wanted her gone, and so he had to make her disappear. But he couldn't. He wouldn't.

San arrived home later than usual that night, the weight of his mission plaguing his mind. He had made up his mind. He would end it. He would walk away. He’d tell her everything, run away with her, leave it all behind. But the moment he walked through the door, the air was thick with something unfamiliar. The faint scent of roses. Her scent.

He froze in the doorway, his breath catching in his throat as he saw her.Her body was sprawled out in the middle of the living room. Her once vibrant eyes were open but lifeless, staring blankly ahead. A trail of blood pooled beneath her, the color stark against his white rugs. The delicate flowers she’d worn earlier were crushed under her body, petals scattered like remains of a dream that had never had a chance to bloom. She was gone. And it was all his fault.

He couldn't take his eyes off her. Trying to memorize every detail, the way her hair framed her face, the soft curve of her lips, the faintest trace of a smile she’d given him just hours before, as if she had known nothing was wrong. But in her delicate hands, the ones that once held him so softly, was a piece of paper. Marked with a dagger. He recognized it all too well. The letters he once placed himself, now in the hands of the love of his life.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, but he ignored it. He couldn’t bear to face whoever was on the other end. He knew what they wanted. He knew what they would say. But then, it rang again. And this time, he answered it. “Did you think you could walk away, San?” The voice was cold, laced with amusement. “You let us down. We thought you were better than this. But you lowered your guard” he heard a spine chilling chuckle from the other side “ Your just like the rest of us. Disposable.” San’s grip tightened around the phone. His eyes never left her body. “You took her from me,” he said, his voice barely controlled. “You’ll pay for that.”

The rage inside him was a wildfire. He wasn’t the cold, emotionless machine anymore. She had turned him into something different. Something human. Without thinking, he grabbed his gun from the table and left the penthouse. Moving like a predator hunting down its prey. He made his way to the headquarters, each step fueled by the image of her lifeless face, her broken body. He didn’t care how many lives he had to take. He didn’t care who stood in his way. They wouldn't be able to stop him anyway. He cocked his gun before kicking the door in….

The heavy air in the room felt like it was pressing down on him. San stood in the doorway, the faintest tremor in his hand as he wiped a smear of blood from his collar. The silence was suffocating, broken only by the sound of his boots scraping the floor as he stepped forward. His gaze swept across the room, lingering on the men who had once called him a brother, now sprawled motionless, their expressions forever frozen.

Chapter 1.5 : Fourth of july OUT NOW!!

[tangerineliqu0r]

Then It is a Good Dream

(Gil-Galad x reader)/(Sauron/Annatar x reader)

You were the only member of the envoy sent to warn Lord Celebrimbor of Sauron's disguise to make it to Eregion. Unfortunately, Sauron beat you there. You feel bound to Eregion by duty and find a welcome reprieve from the darkness in your dreams.

if you prefer reading on ao3

Warnings: smut (p in v, breeding, oral f receiving, dream sex?), noncon, manipulation bc its Annatar, Sauron is evil so so evil, reader is not winning

authors note: I definitely have more of an ending in mind for this if anyone is interested in a second or third part, it did end rather abruptly but I wanted to keep it under 5k

You arrived in Eregion on what felt like the hundredth day of rain. You were wounded and sopping wet, and your long hair stuck to your sallow cheeks. The journey from Lindon had not been easy. Orcs had slain the other elves with you, and you had managed to escape, though not without damage. You had been sent along as a guard for those carrying the message because you knew the truth of Halbrand’s identity. Now, you had one arm wrapped around your torso, holding yourself together, but just barely.

You stumbled in through the gates, searching for a familiar face among the guards who had run to you in alarm. Of course, you and the others had been warned of dangers on the roads, with orcs becoming ever stronger and present in the lands. The warning did not matter now, though, only the information you carried. Beyond the fear of death, you worried more that Sauron had already reached Lord Celebrimbor, in one form or another, to convince him to forge more rings.

You could not focus on the guard hauling you inside, your mind still swimming with worry for Lord Celebrimbor. Your mind was hazy with blood loss and the reminder of your duty.

When you woke, the first thing you noticed was the thick bandages wrapped around your torso. The second was that someone had washed and brushed the muddy mats out of your hair. Their efforts to return you to some semblance of care brought life you didn’t know you still carried back into your body. You had believed the wound would be fatal and had tirelessly traveled with no thoughts of your health and only of delivering your message.

“She should be awake now my Lord.” The sound of voices draws your attention to the door.

When the door opens, the kind face of Lord Celebrimbor graces your vision. He looks at you rather pityingly before your attention is drawn to an unfamiliar elf behind him. Golden hair drapes his shoulders, and he is dressed in dark robes. His face is unsettlingly calm. He stands behind Lord Celebrimbor with his hands clasped behind his back, watching the Lord with a blank gaze.

“My Lord Celebrimbor,” you greet him, attempting to sit up, though your weak body is wracked with a cough as you do.

“Be still, child; rest. Our healers have tended to your wounds. You are safe now.” He approaches your bed, resting a calming hand on your shoulder, though you know it is to prevent you from trying to rise again.

“I come from Lindon, bearing news, my Lord.” You start again, this time steadying your voice. “The rings have been successful; the great tree is healing.” Your eyes flit between the unnamed elf and Lord Celebrimbor, and you sink deeper into the heavy sheets as you speak, letting the weight dissipate from your body. You hope that to all present, it conveys your relief at telling them the news.

Lord Celebrimbor lights up at the news. His soft smile turns broad, and you cannot help the soft quirk of your lips in response. The unnamed elf with him smirks slightly before schooling his features. Lord Celebrimbor seems to notice your gaze and clears his throat before speaking. “This is Lord Annatar, my lady. He is a messenger of the Valar, a maia here to grant us his wisdom in the times to come.” He smiles at the elf looking at him with a deep kinship.

“The Lord of Gifts.” You speak slowly and your eyes flit back to the tall, fair-faced elf. Yes, this was him. You were sure of it. His eyes were cool, empty, and unsettling, his features too perfect. He was not the Lord of this Kingdom, yet he seemed to command the very air in which he breathed. Yes, you were sure that this pretender Annatar was Halbrand and, in turn, Sauron. And unluckily, it looked like he had Lord Celebrimbor wrapped around his pretty finger. The High King Gil-Galad had been right to send you along with those who had carried the message.

“Rest now, my child. Heal.” Celebrimbor is happy with the news you have delivered. Neither man notices the wariness in your voice. The two of them chat together softly as they leave your room. They speak of the forge, and Celebrimbor seems especially excited about your news and its prospects for his future work.

You lay in your bed alone when they are gone, finally able to breathe and think freely. You knew, based on the few observations of the interactions between the Lord Celebrimbor and Annatar, that you would not be able to free Lord Celebrimbor from him. His trust had been freely given. He had no reason to mistrust Annatar, and you feared that convincing him otherwise would be impossible. You worried for the Lord of Eregion, but you pushed him from your mind.

Instead, you thought of kinder things. You thought of Lindon and your King there. While Galadriel commanded the Northern armies, you commanded those of the South. You had entered his service before the second age had begun and had not left since. Your closeness with the High King was uncommon, though you were grateful for it. You were thankful for the comfort and security he provided. Now, you missed that closeness more than ever. You longed to be back in Lindon, wrapped in his sheets rather than locked in Eregion, in such close proximity to evil.

You missed him more than ever. You missed the sweet taste of his lips against your own and the feeling of his silken hair woven between your fingers. You longed to feel his skin against yours once more. And yet if he could advise you now, you knew he would encourage you to stay steadfast. He would implore you to stay in Eregion and keep a quiet watch over Lord Celebrimbor and Eregion’s other inhabitants, for it would not be safe as long as the deceiver walked its halls wearing a kind face. And so you would stay.

You rested for a week before the healers permitted you to move about Eregion freely again. Once you were allowed, though, you were readily invited by Lord Celebrimbor into the forge. Long had you known the Lord of Eregion, and even he knew you would grow restless quickly. You wished for nothing more than to return to training, return to the wilds, return to killing orcs, but the healers had forbade you from training for another week at the least, and you were now bound to Eregion by both duty and honor. So you assisted Lord Celebrimbor in the forge, little as you could.

“Fetch me my hammer, would you my Lady?” Lord Celebrimbor’s voice carries through the forge from his workbench to you. You follow his instructions with an easy demeanor. You were glad to be helpful in doing anything, and even more so to the Lord. You handed him the tool with a soft smile, glancing over his shoulder as he worked. You tried to be discreet but he noticed anyway.

“These are the latest designs for the rings, Lord Annatar has been helping me perfect them.” He sends you a soft smile, seemingly searching for approval. For an elf of such esteem, you understood how Annatar had so easily wormed his way into the man’s heart.

Your eyes flit over the pages, seven of them, you note. “They are beautiful, my Lord.” And they were. His work, despite being tainted by Annatar’s hand, was still one to marvel at. You look in awe at the pages, leaning over his shoulder. “May I?” You ask, reaching out a hand, wishing to examine them in greater detail.

He smiles brightly and stands ushering you to the seat, which you readily accept. You finger through the pages of work slowly, admiring both the beautiful strokes of charcoal and the designs they make up.

A sickly sweet voice reached your ears, though it was not Lord Celebrimbors. “Do you have much experience in smithing, Commander?” It is Annatar, the deceiver.

You look away from the pages, your fingers stilling as you glance over your shoulder to the man who has approached you and Lord Celebrimbor. “No, my Lord Annatar. I have not. But Lord Celebrimbor’s designs are beautiful all the same.” Your vision is drawn back to the pages.

“Who will carry these rings, my Lord?” You question Lord Celebrimbor. You see a glance pass between the two lords. “I apologize, my Lords, I do not mean to intrude upon your work. I will take my leave.” You stand from the table abruptly, suddenly aware that you are the other, not Lord Annatar.

“No, no, my dear child,” Lord Celebrimbor stills you with a soft word, “These are for the Dwarf Lords.” You are shocked at his admittance, and by a quick glance towards Annatar, you determine he is equally surprised, though he quickly schools his features.

You nod and consider your words carefully, knowing that they will likely determine if you are welcomed back into the forge. “If they are anything like the Elven rings, they will bring strength and security to the Dwarven cities.” You thumb through the pages again as you speak, doing so slowly as if to display awe.

Even Lord Annatar smiles softly at your words, and from that you know you’ve spoken well. Celebrimbor laughs heartily and clasps your shoulder with an excited smile.

“Yes, yes, exactly! We can give them the same ward against the darkness as we have found.” You are almost saddened by his joy. You know these rings cannot be true. To see such a great smith, so admirable a person, yet unknowing of what he would create, wracked your heart with pangs.

Lord Celebrimbor does not request your help again while you are in the forge. Instead, he lets you observe him as he works, and you notice, that Annatar observes you. He was rightfully wary of your presence. He had revealed himself to Galadriel and you had come from Lindon carrying a message from the High King himself. By all truths, he should be suspicious of you.

You are broken from your thoughts by Lord Celebrimbor’s voice. “Tomorrow we will begin forging them. But! Tonight we will celebrate the finishing of the designs.” Lord Celebrimbor is talking excitedly to Annatar, and both men are smiling.

Annatar looks away from Lord Celebrimbor to you, and you try not to shrink under his scrutiny. He speaks before you can question his observation of you. “Will you join us, Commander?” His tone is easy, but you do not trust it. Though you cannot deny him either.

“If the healers permit it.” You bow your head slightly to them.

“Nonsense! You will be under no great strain, and some wine and laughter will do you good child.” Lord Celebrimbor cuts in, quickly dismissing the only excuse you had to avoid their celebrations.

Later that night you had somehow been convinced to partake in both laughter and wine. You had more of both than you should have, given the circumstances. However, Lord Celebrimbor had refused to give you an easy night. Instead, he roped you into all the smith’s celebrations.

You had stuck to Lord Celebrimbor’s side for most of the night, watching the way the other smiths fawned over Annatar and listening to the great smith speak about whatever he wished. When he disappeared from your side and was replaced by Annatar, you were less than pleased.

“Why do you linger alone?” He sat next to you with a composure that none other in the room possessed, for they were all taken by the copious amounts of wine they’d been drinking.

“I do not belong here.” You realize, too late, that you have also had too much to drink to be speaking to the deceiver. You stiffen at your own words, your face blank if not a little sad.

He raises a brow at you but nods. “You are from Lindon, yes.” You think for a moment while he speaks. Perhaps you could gain his trust after all. You had watched him speak to each and every elf in the room tonight, charming them with pretty words, and they were all too welcome to it, due to his fair features and the wine they consumed. You knew he was gaining their trust and surely making sure none of them were threats to him. And now, he was trying to do the same to you.

You take a long drink of your wine, before letting your eyes turn to him. You understood why the others had fallen for it, his disguise, for it was a pretty one. An endearing smile graces your lips when you speak, “Ah yes, I do miss Lindon, though it is the people I miss much more.” Your mind flits to your High King and your cheeks burn red easily.

A slight smirk graces his features and with that, you are sure that your feigned drunken honesty is beginning to work. “Ah- someone waits for you in Lindon, anticipating your return.”

“Yes, I am bound to Lindon, by more than duty, my Lord.” You look down and reach for your wine glass, taking another sip before returning your eyes to his empty ones.

His eyes go to your hands, which fidget in your lap as if to draw his attention. “Though, you are unwed, are you not?” He raises a slender brow once more.

Your blush deepens further, and this time it is not due to your design. Even the tips of your ears burned red. “I am unwed. Though I am bound to another.” You clasp your hands together tightly, fiddling with your fingers to steady yourself. Elves were not known to bind themselves to partners and remain unwed. Yours would be a scandal should it be known. You knew you would never wed the High King Gil-Galad, nor did you wish to. Both of your perspectives on the matter were a rarity, and yet the two of you were content on finding comfort in each other and remaining each other’s closest friends.

He hums contemplatively and per your glance, he looks shocked. Your revelation has silenced the deceiver, though you are sure his silver tongue will not be stayed for long.

“Such devotion is admirable, Commander.” He replies and you know he is appeasing you. No true messenger of the Valar would support such a union. Any further reply he may have is halted by Lord Celebrimbor’s return.

“Ah, I am glad to see my two closest friends conversing so happily.” His cheeks are flush from the wine, and you cannot help but be amused, laughing as he joins the two of you. The three of you converse late into the night, and all the other smiths have retired when you stand and bid the men goodnight.

When you return to your rooms, you slip into your cool sheets with a lightness you have not felt in moons. You, for once, do not worry about Lord Celebrimbor or exposing your true intentions for being in Eregion. Rather, you think of Gil-Galad. You fall asleep with kind thoughts of your king dancing in your mind.

When you wake, you’re shocked, first, by the radiant light shining into your room, and second, by the realization you are in Lindon. A familiar, regal voice fills your ears and your fëa sings at the realization. Gil-Galad.

“Commander.” Your eyes find him, bathed in sunlight, his hair shining chocolate in the morning light. You spring from your bed at a speed you only possessed prior to your near-fatal injury, wrapping him in a tight hug. You bury your face in his hair, breathing in his scent, your fingers tightening in his robes.

The rumble of his chest, as he laughs, warms you in a way you did not know you craved. “What have I done to deserve such a greeting my Lady?” A large hand under your chin tilts your head back and brushes through your hair before gently cupping the side of your face.

You lean into his hand, turning so that you may kiss his palm. You press tender kisses to his hand, speaking softly against the soft skin as you do. “You have granted me a kindness and visited my dreams. I am far away and yet you are here, in my mind.”

He smiles softly, wistfully. “It is a good dream, is it not? I have long hoped I would wake in Eregion with you. It seems you have wished the same of Lindon and of me.”

You cup his cheeks softly as he speaks, your eyes searching his face. You try to account for every line and freckle gracing his cheeks, tracing them with feather-light touches as you do. “I would recount your every feature so that they are ever present in my waking mind.”

He smiles with a gentleness he is not usually graced with. You speak again, knowing your time is limited. “Come to bed, let us rest in the sunlight. We cannot be dragged away by duty here.” You take his hand, pulling him into the soft sheets with a practiced ease. He allows it, intertwining his fingers with yours.

He responds as he climbs into bed, following you, and giving you all of his attention. “You speak the truth, my love. Duty will not take us here.” You were glad for that. In Lindon, neither of you was ever indisposed for long. There were always duties to be upheld, whether they were kingly or those of a commander. Now, you were free from interruptions, save waking.

No sooner than both of you are settled in bed, does he have you atop him, pressed tightly against his chest, as he presses kisses into your hair. “You… the halls of Lindon feel empty without you gracing them.”

You sit up to observe him as he speaks, and the way he looks upon you, with such reverence, sets you alight. As does the gentle weight of his hands upon your hips. He follows your ascent though and captures your lips in a kiss. It conveys that which a thousand pretty words cannot, the longing, yearning for the closeness you once shared. You gasp into his mouth as his grip on your hips tightens, letting his tongue mingle with your own. He tastes of honey and pears, and you wonder if you taste of the deep red wine you had drunk so late into the night.

When the two of you part, your lips are but a breath from touching again, and the two of you pant, breathless from your unwillingness to part. You whisper, your words ghosting over his lips. “Gil- you feel so real. Your light shines so brightly, even here locked away within our dreams. My fëa sings at our reunion. I-”

He cups your face tenderly, affection clouding his eyes, as he gazes into yours. “Speak to me, dearest, what do you want.”

You consider him for a moment, before speaking. “I know this is only a dream. Yet, I cannot help but want you. I wish to feel your closeness, Gil. In this time, more than ever, I need you.”

He smiles again, brushing your hair from your face as he does. “You need only ask, dearest. I know this is only a dream, but I cannot fault you for that which I crave as well.”

You kiss him then, this time though, the two of you do not part at breathlessness. When your lips part, his find your throat, pressing open-mouthed kisses and bites to it, that are sure to leave marks on you. When he finds the most sensitive spot where your neck and shoulder join he sucks and bites at the tender skin there, marking you as his. Your eyes close and your mouth falls open in a heady gasp. You do not feel his hands leave your hips until they are in your hair and closing around the tips of your ears, rubbing gentle teasing stokes down their points.

“Gil!” You gasp at the touch. He was usually reserved in touching that erogenous zone, as it was seen as very intimate to all elves. Despite the two of you sharing a bed often, he had only twice before felt so strongly as to breach that intimacy.

“You are so beautiful, even more so when you are gasping my name.” He smiles and his hands still for a moment before they go to your sleep shift. Sheer as it was, he wanted you bare. He looks to you for your consent though. “I want to see you. May I?”

“Please.” Your voice is thick as he pulls it from your form, baring you to him. You are quickly pulling at the ties of his robes, wishing at this moment for nothing more than to feel the heat of his skin against yours. And once his robe is discarded with your shift in a heap on the floor, you feel it. He is burning hot, and the fire of his skin sets you alight.

You roll your hips against his tentatively, testing the waters. Your thighs bracket his hips tightly, squeezing him, as you try to contain your need. His hands go to your hips and begin to guide you, moving you against his quickly hardening cock. A groan escapes his lips as your folds catch on him, making his cock shine with your wetness.

In one quick movement, he has you beneath him. You lay on your back and he sits on his haunches between your thighs, spreading your legs with his thighs, pressing them open wider, until you are completely open to him.

“So beautiful…” He trails off as his fingers ghost over your stomach and then your thighs, avoiding the place he knows you want him more than ever. He caresses down your thigh and your calf and repeats the same over the other leg, at an agonizingly slow pace. When he drags his hands back up to your center, you consider begging and he knows it. “Use your words for me, dearest, tell me what you want.”

A whine escapes your lips before you find your words, “I need you to stretch me out on your fingers, my king, please.” The plea in your voice is enough for him and when he begins by slipping two large fingers inside you with ease your back arches off the bed. He curls them inside you, reaching for the spot he knows will make you drip wetness for him.

When he finds it, he grins. He watches the way you move underneath him, writhing in pleasure, begging for more. “Gil- please- I cannot wait any longer. I need you. I need you inside me.”

“So impatient, dearest. Do you crave the feel of my cock inside you that badly?” He teases you gently, slipping his fingers out of you. You reach up and capture his wrist between your slender fingers before bringing his hand to your mouth. You lick and then suck your wetness off his fingers. He is quick to lean down and capture your lips, tasting your cunt on your lips with a groan. With that, he pushes into you, slowly, tortuously. The stretch is as straining as you remember if not more and you’re suddenly reminded of why he usually took his time opening you up. His cock was much like his stature, imposing. He did not lack in girth or length and the stretch was bordering painful every time.

You rest your forehead against his, and he waits watching your eyes carefully as you focus on relaxing to accommodate him. When it seems like you have regained your composure he begins to move. He rolls his hips, driving his cock even deeper into you, leaving both of you gasping in pleasure. He starts slowly, kissing your throat as he opens you up. You gasp and whine at the intrusion, in near bliss at the feeling of being joined with him once more. Your eyes stay locked on his as you speak, your hands clutched in his hair. “Gil- you are- by the Valar Gil.”

He takes your broken words as encouragement and picks up his pace, lifting your legs over his shoulders, sending him impossibly deeper into you. Your head falls back now, and you babble incoherently as he plows into you. Your eyes finally snap, open when one of his hands slips between the two of your to rub rough circles on your clit. He is unrelenting and your babbling has morphed into loud moans. “Gil- My King- Please-.”

“Fuck- so tight- so wet, you’re driving me mad.” He begins to speak in broken sentences, and you know he is close. He does not let up though, pounding into you relentlessly.

“Please- please- fill me with your seed, my king. Gil- please.” You know the words that will drive him over the edge and your cunt clenches tightly around him as you speak. You feel the hot spurts of his seed coating your womb as he finishes inside you with a drawn-out moan. He pumps into you a few more uneven times, making sure you’ve taken all he can give. He pulls out of you but does not let your legs down, instead lowering himself to your cunt.

His hot breath on your folds, makes you clench and tremble with anticipation. A little breathless he looks up, meeting your eyes before speaking, “I’m sorry dearest, I can’t help myself when you speak such enticing words.” He presses a soft kiss to the inside of your thigh before he dives in like a man starved. His tongue begins a steady rhythm on your clit and his fingers are back inside you before you can anticipate them. Your gasps and moans of his name fill the room.

He keeps a steady pace, each curl of his finger punctuated by his name on your lips. Your vision goes white hot when his lips wrap around your clit and suck, his fingers never letting up. You finish with a cry of his name, your legs trembling over his shoulders. He continues sucking on your swollen bud until you put a hand on his shoulder to push him away.

“Ah- Gil, please, I cannot take any more, please.” He relents, letting your legs down from his shoulders and coming up to capture your lips in a deep kiss, collapsing on top of you, as if he has suddenly lost all strength.

“Gil!” You laugh as he lays his head on your chest. You can see his feet dangling off the end of the bed. Your fingers trace intricate patterns on his back before you wind them back in his hair.

“You are incredible.” He speaks, and you find his eyes upon yours once more.

“As are you, you have no idea how much I have missed this, how much I have missed you.” You speak with a wistfulness that is only made by separation.

“Don’t I?” He speaks and it is punctuated with a poorly concealed yawn. You are sharply reminded that your time remaining is limited when you feel a yawn bubbling in your throat.

“Come up here, let us fall asleep in each other’s arms. We can pretend, if only for a moment, that this is our reality and not only a dream.” He smiles gently before crawling up and wrapping you in his hold. His strong arms cage you against his chest and his long hair drapes over your shoulder tangling with your own. You do not know how long the two of you lay like that, breathing together until you drift off.

You are woken by sunlight streaming into your room. This time, though, the first thing you notice is that you are in Eregion, in a bed that is not quite yours, with the wound on your stomach screaming in pain. You sit up in bed with a sigh, memories from your dream still fresh. The second thing you notice is the undeniable dampness between your legs. You were not surprised by this but rather how wet you seemed to be. Your hand dips under the sheets and you slip two fingers between your folds, gathering some of the wetness before bringing your hand back up. You are shocked at the blackness that coats them. Pitch black seed coats your fingers and you feel the bile rise in your throat immediately.

You are out of bed and hunched over the nearest waste basket spitting up bile within seconds. Your wound screams at you as you wretch, unable to stop.

“Such a convincing visage was it not? Much like the one you’ve been putting on for the past week.” The honeyed voice of Annatar carries through your rooms.

Your eyes find him in horror and disgust. He stands at the end of your bed, watching you with a sick curiosity and a sadistic smirk. “You are foul. Deceiver.”

“Am I? Now, dearest, let us not be rude. I thought your fëa sung at our reunion.” He repeats your words to him with a wide smile gracing his cold face. You wretch into your wastebasket once more.

[frogemeat]

Back on my shit for my relativity falls AU where Stan goes missing because I can!! And no one can stop me!

So let’s actually dive into the characters a bit more this time and their reactions to Stan’s disappearance.

We’re going to start with Mabel because I feel like in any universe Mabel and Stan have a special connection, one where they just understand eachother, y’know?

In my relativity falls au, Stan is reluctant to open up at first to Mabel. Surprisingly it was Ford who warmed up to her first. Stan, at first, is very distrustful of adults and people in authority in general (when I get you Filbrick, when I get you-) so he keeps distance between himself and Mabel at first.

He’s his usual rambunctious self, loud and unapologetic about, but he doesn’t rant to her about the latest addition of his favorite comic, he doesn’t let her look at his drawings and anytime she wants to spend one on one time on him he would turn her down. Eventually he warmed up to her, which is more my actual relativity falls au then this, so I won’t go into it (unless someone wants me to 👀).

So when I say Mabel worked hard, she worked hard to get Stan’s trust. And she’s proud of that dammit!

To her Stan is such a bright star who’s often overlooked by his genius of a twin brother (something she can heavily relate too) and she wanted to nurture his creativity. And she did!

She displayed the weird Frankenstein taxidermy he made in the shack, she taught him how to knit and sew and he even started to let her watch “the duchess approves” with her!

They grew close and Mabel started to see both the twins as her sons. She had suspicions that their home life was… less than good and she was SUPER unsure about sending them home after summer ended. She didn’t think the decision would’ve been made for her.

Weirdmaggdeon was over. They won. Steve (Bill’s replacement in this AU) is gone. But they weren’t celebrating. The only thought the three Pines had was…

Where’s Stan?

They searched the woods for him long at the r the sun set. She had to drag Ford back home when he started tripping over his own feet, his exhaustion evident. Ford tried to insist he was okay, that he could keep looking, that he needed to keep looking, that Stan was out there, he needed to continue. Stan would keep looking for him if their roles were reversed.

All Mabel could do was shush him as he cried against her shoulder.

Dipper stayed behind and kept looking and both Mabel and Ford went home without their other half. Long after Ford had passed out Dipper had finally come home, empty handed. They spent the rest of the night talking about what to do. They would check town first thing in the morning, they had decided. Maybe in his daze he had wandered out of the woods and one of the townsfolk’s found him. If not, they would go to the police, see if anyone had reported a small brown haired preteen wandering around. (

They also discussed the possibility of Stan being dead, but Mabel couldn’t even stomach the thought of it. They quickly stopped when Mabel started to cry.)

She had just met the twins, only known them for three months, yet they were hers. Her boys. Her babies. Her peanut and walnut. And Stan was gone.

The boy she swore to protect, the boy who pretended he was tough when he was really the sweetest kid she ever met.

Days go by and still no Stan. Ford refuses to talk to anyone, Dipper is out of the house for most of the day searching, and Mabel is left alone, surrounded by half finished knitting projects and echoes of a boy who’s laughter warmed her heart.

She cries a lot. That’s all she does for the first few months.

One day, after Ford’s parents (not Stan and Ford’s, just Ford’s, because apparently no one remember’s her little peanut outside of Gravity Falls) drops off all his stuff for his apprenticeship with Dipper, she’s pulls herself together, makes her famous Mabelcakes, and starts to rebuild. Dipper had done amazing keeping them together, but it was time for some Mabel magic.

Three years pass and the Stan shaped hole in their family doesn’t get smaller. Ford still turns to his right whenever he gets excited, Mabel still hasn’t watched the season finale of “the duchess approves” (she couldn’t finish it without Stan, not when he was so excited to show it to her), and Dipper sometimes still goes into the woods to search.

Ford is turning 17 in a few weeks. June 15th. She’s in Greasy’s after deciding that a snack sounded good after buying birthday presidents for her walnut and instead of Susan greeting her and taking her order like she has since she started working there, she was greeted with a new face.

A familiar face.

Even older, more pimply, and with a beanie pulled down so far it almost covered his eyes, she would recognize him.

Her peanut.

[hailturinturambar]

Devouring Heart.

Pairing: Melkor/Morgoth x Nienna

Word count: 3.976

Request: “Can I maybe have some Melkor x Nienna, using dialogue number 32? 🥹”

Author's Notes: English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes or confusion. Requests are open, check the information before requesting. Requests that have already been placed will be posted soon. By the way, I loved this request. I'm a Melkor x Nienna addict and this prompt fits them so well.

Warnings: Angst, toxic relationship, mild sexual content (but not smut), violence.

Summary: Middle-earth belongs to Melkor. His Orcs spread ever further, his malice and corruption turning the most devoted hearts to evil. Elves and Men fight against Melkor's forces, only to be defeated. It is then that Manwë decides that Nienna must set out for Angband and convince Melkor to give up, or be devoured by his heart.

Nienna, one of the most powerful queens of the Valar, dwelt alone in the far west of Valinor. “Nienna's Halls” they were called, and they reflected the inner self of their mistress. The Elves of the Beginning of Time, who left the majestic Valinor, told stories about Nienna's dark and lonely hall. A place of extreme mourning and grief. Almost as if something was missing. No, almost as if someone was missing.

After all, that was it, wasn't it? In the end, those who watched the goddess with intense calm and curiosity knew her pious heart well enough to understand the beginning of all the feelings of loss and longing that seemed to envelop Nienna's spirit. Because when the Ainur were young, and Arda did not yet exist, Nienna knew the reason for her sadness when she contemplated Melkor, the most powerful of all the Valar.

Melkor's music was strong, destructive. So beautiful and powerful that it frightened Nienna. It frightened her so much that she became obsessed with its melody. Its delicate melody that trapped her in its web of eternal pain and suffering. But Nienna didn't know that, not at the Beginning of Time. No one but Eru knew, she suspected. Because everyone was too busy blaming Melkor for the disharmony in the Song to observe Nienna, to consider that any of the Valar might feel differently about Melkor.

Nienna, however, felt different. You see, she didn't want to feel that way. And she felt very guilty about it. And when Melkor didn't care about the destruction and disharmony among the Valar, Nienna's Song was overcome with grief and she wept. For him. She continued to weep for the rest of her days.

Nienna was fascinated by Melkor. And, in her pious heart, she believed that things could be different in Arda, the world created by Eru for the Valar to rule and protect other beings.

Moving away from the Valar, Nienna reached out to Melkor, gently touching his arm. It was curious, to Nienna at least, how Melkor attacked all the Valar at the slightest touch, even his brother. But not with her, never with Nienna. Melkor's cold, stormy gaze reached for Nienna's hand, almost burning her with the slightest glance.

His long dark hair covered his face, but his eyes like fire never stopped watching Nienna. Reluctantly, Nienna turned away from Melkor.

“I see the darkness in you.” Nienna whispered, uncertain. “And I feel your suffering. Come with me, come where the Valar have not troubled you.”

“And live as a subject, under your constant surveillance and disapproval?” Melkor sneered, staring at Nienna with his dark eyes. “More than an outcast, less than a king, forever trapped in your mercy and goodwill?”

“No.” Nienna said, sighing sadly. “Lest the darkness consume and poison you in your loneliness.”

For a few seconds, Nienna believed she could touch Melkor's hardened heart, make him understand that the Valar did not wish him harm. That she did not wish for his suffering.

“I deserve more.”

That's all Melkor said, turning his back on her. Nienna cried many tears, mourned many losses and griefs in her life. Her first tears in Arda were for Melkor. Because of him. As it would always be. Because many sorrows were yet to come.

When Arda was overtaken by darkness and the Two Lamps were destroyed by Melkor's malice, Nienna wept. As the centuries passed, Melkor's wickedness weighed more heavily on Nienna than on all the others. They resented Melkor. Nienna was in mourning.

Nienna still remembered when darkness covered Arda once again, and Valinor was overtaken by darkness, while Ungoliant poisoned the sacred land and Melkor stole the Silmarils.

Silence consumed Valinor little by little, pain and chaos dominating the hearts of Valar and Elves. Nienna needed to put an end to Melkor's madness, he had gone too far this time. She hadn't thought about how dangerous it would be to pursue Melkor during his desperate escape. But Nienna saw more than the other Valar, because the darkness that dwells in evil hearts is very similar to the darkness of sorrowful hearts.

“Melkor!” Nienna shouted.

The squeal of the monstrous spider reverberated throughout the Blessed Realm. Just as Nienna could see behind the Weaver's shadows, Ungoliant could see her too. Thick, malevolent shadows covered Nienna's form.

Tears streamed down Nienna's face. For the Valar, it was so much evil, so much destruction. It was too much to bear, all the horror that that wicked spirit carried with it was suffocating Nienna, devouring her light. She felt the hunger, terrifying, perverse, insatiable, devouring all that was good in her.

An angry cry shook the foundations of Valinor, a new force, a new power covering Nienna's spirit. Melkor, in his majesty, stood before Nienna, a barrier between the Goddess and the Spider. Nienna couldn't understand the rotten language they spoke, her spirit still too immersed in grief and pain, so much horror committed by that creature that never stopped feeling hungry consumed Nienna.

She wasn't very different from Melkor.

From above, he looked down at Nienna kneeling at his feet. Her face covered in tears, her veil not hiding enough of her suffering. But this was Nienna in all her glory, the one who weeps. And Melkor always made her cry. Almost as if he took a perverse pleasure in it.

He just stared at her, his mouth tightened into a tense line, his attention shifting briefly from Nienna to his shadowy helper. He didn't touch her, didn't even speak to her before left Valinor.

In front of Manwë, covered by the darkness that now dominated Valinor, Nienna thought about how the brothers were so different. While Manwë was light and goodness, comfort and mercy. Melkor was darkness and malice, cruelty and revenge. The more she thought about these differences, the more Nienna felt sorry for Melkor.

Because, in all of Arda, in all of the Void, only Nienna was capable of understanding him. Deep down, however bitter the truth, Nienna knew that Melkor was the only one capable of understanding her, of accepting her.

“Nienna.” Whispered a voice in her mind.

Always the same voice. Dark. Cruel. Longing for her. For her answer. But Nienna kept that door closed to Melkor. Because she couldn't follow him, follow the path he was walking.

“Nienna.” Manwë said, kindly.

Nienna looked around, looking for the bearer of the dark voice, looking for Melkor. But he wasn't there, he never was. No matter how much he whispered in her mind, how much he ordered her to give in to him, he would never return to Valinor, she was safe.

“You're our last hope.” Manwë stroked Nienna's face, wiping away her tears. “I ask this as a friend, not as your king.”

“What could I do?” She whispered, confused. “Melkor won't listen to me. He has never listened to my pleas.”

“And you're still crying over him.” He smiled sweetly, ruefully. It didn't sound accusatory, but it bothered Nienna.

“Yes, I suffer. For the evil he has caused. For all the lives that perished in the name of his malice and insatiable desire for power.”

Nienna pulled away from Manwë, wrapping her arms around herself. She was looking for a different kind of comfort from that offered by her friend. His touch felt cold to Nienna, just as all other touches always did. Warmth, Nienna hated herself for thinking, could only be found in hands burned by the Silmarils.

“And you still call him by that name.”

Nienna stared at him in disbelief. Her hands hurriedly reached for her black veil, covering her pale, tear-streaked face.

“All of Arda knows him as Morgoth. All of Arda fears him. But no, not you.”

Nienna shuddered, remembering the hunger she felt. The insatiable desire for her light, for all that is bright in Arda. But Nienna understood now. That was Ungoliant's hunger. There was, however, another hunger around her, stronger, more needy. A hunger that wanted to consume her entirely until there was nothing left, until she ceased to exist. So that her spirit and light could feed that hungry being.

“He didn't hurt you. After so much destruction, so much pain...” Manwë murmured, lost in thought. “The Great Enemy decided to spare you, even to prevent his esteemed Spider from consuming you.”

Ungoliant's hunger was no greater than Melkor's, thought Nienna.

“Eru is wise and knows what he is doing. He is not indifferent to your suffering, Nienna. Your suffering is our last salvation.”

The black veil now covered enough of Nienna's face so that the King of the Valar couldn't see her discomfort. Would she be able to convince Melkor to give up? No, she didn't believe so. Perhaps she was his redemption and he her ruin. No matter, she already felt condemned to eternally mourn for all of Melkor's cruelties. A constant reminder of his presence. Or the lack of it.

“Nienna.”

“You expect him to devour me.” Nienna smiled ruefully at Manwë. “Let it be me, the one who will destroy Melkor, or be destroyed by him.”

May I be the one to weep for him when he is no more. The thought horrified Nienna, even though she believed that perhaps a world without Melkor would be better. More balanced.

“Only you can forgive Melkor.”

Nienna continued to think about Manwë's words, now alone in her hall. The sea was her only company. Cold, raging, uncontrollable. Nienna had always been drawn to the sea. Now the sea made her think of Melkor. Like the sea, Melkor was always beautiful and unpredictable.

The shadows of the hall covered Nienna, hiding her tears. But the sea remained beautiful, no matter how much she cried. A touch, cold and distant, almost non-existent, covered Nienna's face. Her tears, wiped away by the shadows that covered her face. The shadows comforted her. Because if Melkor was darkness, Nienna was content to abandon the light. The touch disappeared, as it always did, adding to Nienna's suffering.

And Nienna decided that she would heed Manwë's call. She set off, shrouded in silence, into the darkness that dominated Arda.

Nienna knew that her brothers would never agree to Manwë's request. When Nienna, many years before, had knelt before the Valar, begging on Melkor's behalf for forgiveness and a second chance, Mandos had been furious.

As always a protective but fair brother, Mandos did not wish his sister to be close to the Dark Vala.

“What does he even know about forgiveness?” Mandos asked.

“Am I not the one who should forgive everyone? Speak on behalf of those who suffer? Those who are lost and wandering?”

“Wandering?” Mandos shouted, holding back his fury. “Morgoth is not an Elf, Nienna. He is not a Man you can cover with your tears and wipe the guilt from his spirit.”

Turning away from Mandos' gaze, Nienna shuddered at the name. She hated that name and its meaning.

“If I can't forgive Melkor.” She said angrily, staring at her brother with tears in her eyes. “What is my purpose, then?”

Nienna could see the pain in Mandos' eyes, he was disappointed. When he left, leaving her alone with her thoughts, Nienna never spoke to her brother about Melkor again. Even so, Nienna had no regrets about asking for forgiveness in Melkor's name.

That's what Eru expected of her, wasn't it? Nienna wasn't blind to the similarities between them, much less did she believe that it was a fluke in Eru's Great Work. Nienna was supposed to balance the evil caused by Melkor, to lessen the impact of his evil deeds. Where she was forgiveness, he was pain. Where he was suffering, she was healing.

Mandos, in his eternal distrust of Melkor, hated it when the Elves compared Nienna's long black hair with Melkor's. Two sides of the same face, they said, and this deeply angered Mandos and Irmo.

Being his counterpart, the half of him that wasn't yet completely corrupted, was a lonely burden. A burden that Nienna agreed to carry. And so Nienna set off into the unknown, into the uncertain.

When the Melody of the Valar was composed, Nienna never imagined that Middle-earth would know so much pain at the hands of Melkor. However, she had to admit, Middle-earth was enchanting. Not even darkness and pain could erase its beauty.

And there, in the darkness, she felt as if something was accompanying her as she walked. Nienna didn't fear the darkness, she never had, much less did she fear the dangers of Middle-earth. They were like sand at her feet, a harmless nuisance.

Nienna met no Men or Elves on her journey. She believed that her aura, her Ainur spirit, made the others fearful. They knew of only one Valar who walked through Middle-earth, and they did not wish to cross Melkor's path.

In the darkness of the night, when the moon shone in the sky, Nienna realized that wolves as dark as the night were accompanying her. From a distance, their howls signaling to their master that she was there, but also guiding her towards Melkor's empty heart.

As if she didn't know the way, as if she could ignore the voice that was now whispering her name louder, guiding her to him. Still, Nienna didn't answer his call, his plea. This was Melkor's punishment, she decided.

Devastation and death covered the land around Melkor's fortress. Evil permeated the air, contaminated the soil. Even in destruction, there was still beauty in Melkor's work.

Grunts surrounded Nienna, the Black Speech being shouted at her. The Orcs knew she was there, Melkor had no doubt warned them beforehand. But they had waited, long enough for her to be in the lands of the Dark Lord. So that no Valar or Elf would be bold enough to stop Nienna from going to Melkor.

“Take me to your master.” Nienna said confidently, ignoring the stressed noises of the Orcs.

They didn't hurt her. And Nienna wondered if they feared her as much as they feared angering Melkor. Reluctantly, one of the Orcs approached Nienna, handcuffing her hands. She didn't complain, she didn't even look at him. She just let them lead her into Melkor's realm of horror.

Angband, the fortress of the dreaded Dark Lord. Just the mention of Angband made the bravest of hearts a coward. The stories of the torture in the underground chambers and the evil committed by Melkor's servants were known to the Valar, even if they didn't act on behalf of the victims.

Everything was so dark, so silent, so similar to Melkor's eternal void. The chains were being pulled, but Nienna continued to walk calmly and quietly, which was infuriating the Orcs responsible for her capture.

“Leave her.” ordered a melodious voice. As silky as Melkor's.

Oh, so that was him. Once Mairon, the Maia of Aulë. And now Melkor's faithful follower.

"Sauron.” Nienna greeted, watching the anger flash through the Maia's fiery eyes.

It was a weak point between Melkor and Mairon. They hated being called by their new names. Names bestowed on them for all the mischief they had caused.

“Nienna.” Sauron sneered, bowing in a false reverence. “A bit late, isn't it?”

“No.” Nienna smiled, analyzing Sauron. “Forgiveness is never impossible, Sauron. Not even for you."

“I don't need your forgiveness.” Sauron roared, pulling Nienna's chains from the Orcs' hands, who fled in fright.

“No, not really.” Nienna agreed, noticing that he still wore his long red hair. “In time, you might come to think differently.”

Sauron stared at her with his fiery eyes, confused as to whether she was warning him or threatening him. Nienna knew that Sauron would never understand her warning. Good intentions didn't exist for him. Or for his master.

“Come on.”

Nienna didn't hesitate, following Sauron, keeping her knowledge to herself. She thought Sauron would take her to the throne room, where Melkor liked to judge his enemies and condemn former allies. But if Nienna was right about the location of the throne room, that wasn't where Sauron was taking her.

“Don't be stupid, Nienna. This is my only warning.” Sauron mocked, abandoning Nienna in the dark corridor.

Nienna didn't have a chance to reply, Sauron had left before she noticed, leaving her alone in the dark, gloomy corridor. Darkness molded the walls of the fortress, as if it had always been there. Nienna watched the great door ahead and walked towards it, its chains clinking against the floor.

Confident, Nienna knocked on the door, waiting. At the command of the dark voice that resided in the chambers, the doors were opened.

“Nienna.” Whispered Melkor, with pleasure.

Nienna allowed herself to look at Melkor for the first time after so many centuries apart. He looked the same, but still so different. His immortal flesh was riddled with scars, his hands blackened by his impure touch on the Silmarils. He had worn this form for too long, it was beginning to affect him.

But in Nienna's eyes, he had never looked so beautiful.

“Melkor.” Nienna observed the slight twitch in the Vala's stone face. “Are they really necessary?” She looked at the handcuffs. “What harm could I cause to the Dark Lord?”

Quick as lightning, Melkor was in front of Nienna, pulling hard on her handcuffs, anger dominating his previously unresponsive countenance.

“No!”

She raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to continue. Melkor's hands reached for Nienna's handcuffs, breaking them with ease.

“You and I both know that you are the most dangerous of the Valar, Nienna.” He whispered her name, tasting the sound. A sound long forgotten.

“Do you fear me?”

Melkor laughed, throwing the handcuffs to the ground, but not straying too far from Nienna.

“No, Nienna. But you should. I wonder, what did it take for Manwë to convince you to come to me and humiliate yourself?”

Nienna smiled sadly at Melkor. Like Sauron, he was so incapable of recognizing goodness, always painting the intentions of others with malice and desire.

“Is this what you consider humiliation?”

Nienna observed the coldness in Melkor's gaze, almost as if he were trying to hide his thoughts, worried that Nienna might see behind the farce he had so carefully set up.

“I wonder, do you fear me, Nienna?” He sneered, echoing the words she herself had addressed to him. “Do your oh-so-protective brothers know you're here?”

Nienna ignored the mention of her brothers. She would not give Melkor what he desired.

“I don't think I need to fear you, Melkor. Or, would you prefer me to call you Morgoth?”

The irony in the words of Nienna, his nemesis, affected Melkor. Deeply. The dark hand grabbed Nienna's face, squeezing hard, keeping her gray, sad eyes on Melkor's face.

She was right, there was warmth in that touch, almost as if the fire of the Silmarils still burned against his skin. Now they burned against Nienna and she felt... remade.

“I could kill you.” Melkor spat out the words, staring at the goddess who looked at him with nothing but pity.

“Then you'd be alone in the world.” Nienna brought her hands up to Melkor's hands, which were squeezing her face.

The slightest hint of emotion covered the Dark Vala's cheeks, confused by Nienna's delicate touch. For Melkor there was only strength and power. Tenderness and forgiveness were foreign feelings to him. Feelings he could only find in Nienna's proximity.

“I don't need you.” He roared.

But Nienna denied it with her head. She knew that his words were empty, a desperate attempt to prove that he didn't need anyone but himself, that he was comfortable with an endless existence dwelling in a fortress full of loneliness and darkness.

“I am your other half.”

Melkor really looked at Nienna for the first time, as if this was the first time he had seen her, accepted what had united them for countless centuries, what had kept them bound to each other even before all things existed, before the first light shone in the sky.

At first, Nienna hadn't understood what was happening. As before, Melkor was threatening her and accusing her of his intentions, and now his hands were holding Nienna's face tightly, but with as much delicacy as he was capable of showing, while his lips were pressed against Nienna's.

It was like kissing emptiness, she thought. You keep drowning in darkness, never having enough. Like everything about Melkor, his kiss was demanding, full of fury and desire. He wouldn't give in, he was imposing his will in the kiss, and Nienna was happy to accept everything he had to offer.

Melkor's kiss was fierce, almost cruel, his mouth exploring Nienna's, taking full control. She pushed away Melkor's hands, which were still holding her face, and brought them to his long dark strands, pulling firmly. Melkor moaned against Nienna's lips, his hands leaving her face to cover her body. As if he were everywhere at once, exploring a land long coveted and finally conquered.

“I've always loved seeing you cry for me.” He whispered against Nienna's lips.

Nienna gasped at the god's words, sighing when Melkor's hot lips found her neck. Melkor loved Nienna's body like a conqueror. Kissing, biting, marking her as his own. A reminder to all the Valar that Nienna had always belonged and would always belong to him.

“Nienna, Nienna, Nienna.” He whispered against her skin. Addicted, out of control. “My Nienna.”

Nienna moaned, tears covering her face. But, no. She didn't feel sad. She felt everything at once. Melkor's fury, his relentless desire. His loneliness. His desire to consume her light, to devour her, so that she would exist forever in him, and with no one else.

Clouded by desire, by Melkor's warm touch, Nienna wondered if this hadn't always been Eru's plan, when the Valar left for Arda in so many pairs, while Melkor and Nienna remained alone. And that perhaps, because they belonged to no one, they belonged to each other.

“Does that make you mine?” Nienna whispered, stroking Melkor's dark hair.

Melkor's lips moved away from Nienna's neck, staring fiercely at the goddess at his mercy. Like a beast, a predator, Melkor watched as Nienna, his prey finally captured, slipped through his fingers little by little.

“No, not like that.”

“Why?” she murmured in despair as he turned away, his back to her. “Why can't my love be enough?”

“I can see your deception now, Nienna.”

“What?”

Nienna ran to Melkor, holding his warm hands, a contrast to her cold ones. She was crying, desperate, frightened. This was her only chance to save Melkor, to prevent more destruction, more death. And he was escaping her.

“Manwë sent you here, he set you against me. Like he did with everyone else!” Melkor shouted, pushing away Nienna's touch. “You're just like all of them, with your false kindness, with your damned forgiveness, thinking you can fix everyone. That you can save everyone.”

“How can you say that?” She vociferated, as hurt as he was. “I'm here, in front of you, begging you. Begging you with all my heart not to go down this path anymore, to come with me.”

“Your lies no longer deceive me.” Melkor replied, resigned.

Nienna knelt down, holding Melkor's burnt hands forever, oblivious to the tears that flowed, her veil falling from her hair.

“Please, Melkor.”

“Even I can appreciate a great deceiver, Nienna. There's no need to be ashamed.”

He squeezed Nienna's hands one last time before walking to the door of the chambers. An Orc stood there, eager for his instructions.

“Have Sauron escort her to the gate.”

“No!” Nienna shouted.

But Melkor didn't answer, he didn't look back. Like when he abandoned her in Valinor, he was abandoning her once again. In the darkness of the chambers, Nienna wept once more for Melkor's departure.

I hope you enjoyed it. Reblogs, comments and likes are always welcome! And please don't copy my work or post it anywhere else.

tag: @valar-did-me-wrong @redrosesandcharmingsouls

Honestly, I think this story deserves a part two. Let me know what you guys want!

[emotionalhottiee]

Made For Each Other!

Chapter 3: No Second Chances!

Aleah

After listening to that voicemail, i immediately blocked that number. Still processing that voicemail i couldn’t help but wonder why he was calling me.

I mean i know why, but did he really think that he could talk his way back into my life? After such a HUGE mistake. An unforgivable fuck up. Like all i can do is shake my head, trying to hold back the tears. I was not trying to break down crying in front of all my new co workers, but as hard as i was fighting back the tears were winning.

Making my way out of catering i tried to find the nearest restroom, through blurred vision. I found a bathroom which was thankfully a single and trudged inside. Letting the tears flow down my cheek. My mind wondered back to a time when things were good. When we were happy.

*Flashback*

“Do you know what today is?

It's our anniversary

Made for you and me.”

I was singing along to Tony Toni Tone’s Anniversary in the passenger seat, as Dominic drove us to our reservation. Celebrating us dating for 2 years, this moment was so special to me. Dominic was so special to me. Of course he wouldn’t tell me where we were going. So i just sat back & watched as we passed by the buildings and the backdrop of downtown Atlanta passed us by. It was only another 20 minutes had gone by. When we arrived at a fancy five star restaurant.

Walking inside the place was vibrantly lit. Soft jazz music played in the background, while a nice older woman directed us to our table. “My name is Helen, i will be your waitress for the night. Here are your menus, while you guys are deciding on your food, what can i get you for your drinks?” She asked ever so sweet with her southern accent thick. “I’ll just have a water, with lemons” i replied. “I’ll have a jack & coke” Dominic said, never looking up from his menu. Sometimes i hated his lack of manners, but i decided to bite my tongue tonight and not make a fuss. It is our anniversary. “Sure thing, i’ll be right out with those drinks” She stated seemingly unbothered by Dominic not looking at her. “Thank you so much” i replied making eye contact with her so i could apologize without words. She smiled genuinely letting me know it was fine, before she proceeded back into the kitchen.

As the night went on we got our food, the atmosphere shifted. Which i was grateful for. Instead of focusing on his lack of manners, we talked about our relationship. Just laughing at the memories we’ve made in two years. Talking about where our future will take us. Even talking about our boundaries. Which usually tends to tick me off, because i have simply stated mine from the very beginning. And they have not changed. But that doesn’t stop Dom from being Mr. Forgetful and constantly bringing them up. He knows having the same conversation over and over and over is a pet peeve of mine.

The night continued on, as i buried my frustrations in the back of my mind. I didn’t want to let one little annoyance ruin our anniversary. We continued to enjoy our food, exchanging funny stories & loving moments between the two of us.

*Flashback Over*

Wiping away the rest of my tears i swore to myself that i was done crying over Dominic… So why was i still such an emotional wreck? But the truth is i was forcing myself to get over it, instead of tunneling through the barrage of emotions i felt. I just didn’t wanna deal with this. I mean what was the point when the relationship was over. Why keep being sad over the past, when it’s the past. Questions that kept replaying in my mind, because i just wanted to move on from him. But it’s not as cut and dry as i thought it would be.

I made a mental note to myself, to call my therapist about my little emotional dilemma.

As i finished rinsing my face with cold water, trying to conceal my red puffy eyes. I grabbed my bags heading out of the bathroom. My head was completely in my purse and not paying attention to what’s in front of me, which caused me to collide into them. Or more specifically him.

“Whoa sweetie, are you okay”. He asked holding his arms out, to prevent me from falling. Even tho i was totally not gonna fall. “You gotta watch where you going babygirl, i wouldn’t wanna knock you over.” He said flashing a pearly white smile at me. “My bad” i simply retorted giving him a faint smile while turning to walk away. I heard him mumble a “DAMN”, but i just let out a little chuckle as i kept walking away.

Don’t get me wrong he was cute, But he wasn’t completely my type not to mention Jey was the one holding my attention right now. And i am not trying to jump from man to man around here, especially because this is my job.

Gotta keep it somewhat professional.

Catch Up!

Disclaimer

tag list:

@prettypink-princesss @isabella-2025

@sheaabuttaababyy @uceyliyahh @mindairy @yana3sworld @christinabae

[hurtspideyparker]

Wanda is the ultimate mad woman !!! and yeah they really brushed right past Bruce. I know they just met the guy and were a bit preoccupied at the time but like... let's circle back mkay? that was heavyyy. plus Bruce deserves more character development other than Hulk vs. Bruce grrr angry

I CAN'T BELIEVE I FORGOT WAOLOM FOR PETER. I made a post based on the scenario here last year 😭 he was so bright-eyed and bushy tailed, just a sweet boy, and then the rage and grief proved how easily he could tear the world apart if he chose

ohh I think I've seen Clara Bow irondad edits. yep definitely adding it to my playlist. "you'd be picked like a rose. take the glory, give everything. promise to be dazzling" oooooo baby boyyyyy. Iron Man Jr was literally his fantasy until it became the weight of the bricks that buried him.

"long story short it was a bad time/long story short I survived" as Endgame vs. Hawkeye (tv series) Clint makes me emotional. He was so broken as Ronin and now he has his family back and is building up a new one. So proud of him

I need to analyze so long London as a Tony Stark song another time when I'm not sleep deprived because GROWL. That was my favourite song when ttpd dropped and that's my fave guyyyy right there. It's very stony coded, with their arguments over time. and also how everyone expects him to be the money and dazzle while the rest of them do the dirty work and have the real morals. like NO! he's going down right with it, the Avengers are his FAMILY. "and I'm just getting colour back into my face, I'm just mad as hell 'cause I loved this place" the Avengers visiting him and asking to risk the new life he built after they tore apart his old one. He's just gotten back to a safe place worth living, forgave them and Steve for what he did in Siberia, and then they come back asking him to risk it all for them again. He fought till the very end to keep that family together.

hozier my man thank u for the anthems. Steve Rogers is always thought of as the mascot of America, a patriot and government symbol. He is NOT listening to America or any government. He wears the stars and stripes because he's what America should be, and every time people mischaracterize him as upholding the law. well the laws are unjust, and he'll never be afraid to point out the broken system. he's not fighting to protect the state he's fighting to protect the people. he's the ultimate leader and no he can not take orders to save his life. they are always trying to push him into that box, and it always back fires.

If we're gonna talk Hozier Francesca is the most beautiful irondad anthem. "it was too soon when that part of you was ripped away, though I know my heart would break I tell them put me back in it". Tony Stark did indeed invent time travel for that boy, his loss was the only thing strong enough to motivate Tony back to War. "if someone asked me at the end I tell them put me back in it, just to hold you for a minute" THAT HUG 😭😭😭 he's been waiting 5 years for that hug I swear. First thing he did, he needed to hold Peter so badly.

if you make edits you should totally share them on here ! "give it to me Rachel, show it to me please 😟😫🙏" /j

do you still use tiktok to watch stuff? I need someone to share good edits with 🥲

marvel characters as taylor swift songs but i take no critiques

tony stark:

stephen strange:

clint barton:

bucky barnes:

natasha romanoff:

peter parker (andrew)

peter parker (tom)

yelena belova:

pepper potts:

loki:

[actual-corpse]

Just got a rude reminder about how great it is to never have children/ be an only child.

There's too much drama involved with dying, apparently.

[undistortedworld]

have been banned (by myself) from watching animatics until i go to sleep because they are so good that i am getting so excited about them watching them for so many hours that i feel UNWELL

[m0e-ru]

just watched chaircar adventure. again. biggest smile on my face for seven minutes straight until my cheeks started hurting too much I had to stop and massage it physically. would say a million things about it. me when I'm full of love.

[shadesofmauve]

I want to step away from the art-vs-artist side of the Gaiman issue for a bit, and talk about, well, the rest of it. Because those emotions you're feeling would be the same without the art; the art just adds another layer.

Source: I worked with a guy who turned out to be heavily involved in an international, multi-state sex-slavery/trafficking ring.

He was really nice.

Yeah.

It hits like a dumptruck of shit. You don't feel stable in your world anymore. How could someone you interacted with, liked, also be a truly horrible person? How could your judgement be that bad? How can real people, not stylized cartoon bogeymen, be actually doing this shit?

You have to sit with the fact that you couldn't, or probably couldn't, have known. You should have no guilt as part of this horror — but guilt is almost certainly part of that mess you're feeling, because our brains do this associative thing, and somehow "I liked [the version of] the guy [that I knew]", or his creations, becomes "I made a horrible mistake and should feel guilty."

You didn't, loves, you didn't.

We're human, and we can only go by the information we have. And the information we have is only the smallest glimpse into someone else's life.

I didn't work closely with the guy I knew at work, but we chatted. He wasn't just nice; he was one of the only people outside my tiny department who seemed genuinely nice in a workplace that was rapidly becoming incredibly toxic. He loaned me a bike trainer. Occasionally he'd see me at the bus stop and give me a lift home.

Yup. I was a young woman in my twenties and rode in this guy's car. More than once.

When I tell this story that part usually makes people gasp. "You must feel so scared about what could have happened to you!" "You're so lucky nothing happened!"

No, that's not how it worked. I was never in danger. This guy targeted Korean women with little-to-no English who were coerced and powerless. A white, fluent, US citizen coworker wasn't a potential victim. I got to be a person, not prey.

Y'know that little warning bell that goes off, when you're around someone who might be a danger to you? That animal sense that says "Something is off here, watch out"?

Yeah, that doesn't ping if the preferred prey isn't around.

That's what rattled me the most about this. I liked to think of myself as willing to stand up for people with less power than me. I worked with Japanese exchange students in college and put myself bodily between them and creeps, and I sure as hell got that little alarm when some asian-schoolgirl fetishist schmoozed on them. But we were all there.

I had to learn that the alarm won't go off when the hunter isn't hunting. That it's not the solid indicator I might've thought it was. That sometimes this is what the privilege of not being prey does; it completely masks your ability to detect the horrors that are going on.

A lot of people point out that 'people like that' have amazing charisma and ability to lie and manipulate, and that's true. Anyone who's gotten away with this shit for decades is going to be way smoother than the pathetic little hangers-on I dealt with in university. But it's not just that. I seriously, deeply believe that he saw me as a person, and he did not extend personhood to his victims. We didn't have a fake coworker relationship. We had a real one. And just like I don't know the ins-and-outs of most of my coworkers lives, I had no idea that what he did on his down time was perpetrate horrors.

I know this is getting off the topic, but it's so very important. Especially as a message to cis guys: please understand that you won't recognize a creep the way you might think you will. If you're not the preferred prey, the hind-brain alarm won't go off. You have to listen to victims, not your gut feeling that the person seems perfectly nice and normal. It doesn't mean there's never a false accusation, but face the fact that it's usually real, and you don't have enough information to say otherwise.

So, yeah. It fucking sucks. Writing about this twists my insides into tense knots, and it was almost a decade ago. I was never in danger. No one I knew was hurt!

Just countless, powerless women, horrifically abused by someone who was nice to me.

You don't trust your own judgement quite the same way, after. And as utterly shitty as it is, as twisted up and unstead-in-the-world as I felt the day I found out — I don't actually think that's a bad thing.

I think we all need to question our own judgement. It makes us better people.

I don't see villains around every corner just because I knew one, once. But I do own the fact that I can't know, really know, about anyone except those closest to me. They have their own full lives. They'll go from the pinnacles of kindness to the depths of depravity — and I won't know.

It's not a failing. It's just being human. Something to remember before you slap labels on people, before you condemn them or idolize them. Think about how much you can't know, and how flawed our judgement always is.

Grieve for victims, and the feeling of betrayal. But maybe let yourself off the hook, and be a bit slower to skewer others on it.