#would i love to know what you think it might be? absolutely

[danexist]

Going to actually make an addition instead of hiding in the notes because this will be LOOOONG.

So. Doctor Who: one of the longest running, most loved shows on television to date. I love it, my parent's generation love it, my great aunts and uncles love it. But this great show that's been running for longer than my father has been alive, recently, it's gone downhill according to MILLIONS of viewers.

So what made it so loveable in the first place? Well, it was a really fun show about a time-travelling alien who runs around in a blue box with a companion. That's basically the gist, if you haven't seen it. But I hear stories from my grandma even, she and her siblings would watch Doctor Who on TV after dinner whenever it was on, well, after they got a TV that was. When it wasn't on, my grandma's generation would talk about what would happen in the next season, who the Doctor would be next, everything! They knew a next season was coming for certain. And I think that's what made it a really great show for my grandma and her siblings at least, a sense of reliability.

But what's that got to do with us, here in 2024? Since 1972, a lot has changed. Channels have been added, you could tape things, record them for later, DVDs came out, and now, we are in the age of the streaming service. The show has been running since 1963, and television as a whole has changed. Through 15 Doctors, 41 seasons and 2 different renewals, it's DEFINITELY changed. But it followed mostly the same 'alien-of-the-week' format, and I'd say the new season does that, it's just how it has been excecuted.

So, the show that kids have grown up loving for the past 60 years, FOR FREE might I add, is basically hidden behind a pay wall. In Australia, we grew up with the show on the ABC. I don't actually know if the new season was ever shown on the ABC, but it sure as hell isn't on iview. To find the absolutely appalling, very very short season of television, you have to find it on Disney+. It's no longer the show you'd get on Channel 22 after Spicks and Specks, it's another streaming service 8-episode show that's going to be forgotten in 8-10 weeks.

But what in the new show is bad? What about it makes it so easy to hate? First of all, Ncuti Gatwa is a fantastic actor, but it's similar criticism to Jodie Whittaker's Doctor, great actor, terrible writing. Why is that? Well, opposed to Russell T. Davies' first seasons of Doctor Who, it is complete and utter garbage. We have gone from Rose Tyler, the girl who wrote herself into the stars because she loved the Doctor so much, to Ruby Sunday, an overall forgettable companion who could do so much better if they had better writing happening. People talk about Rogue, saying it was a really great episode of television, but look me in the eyes and say it didn't remind you of series 1, episodes 9-10, The Empty Child and The Doctor Dances or Torchwood series 1, episode 12, Captain Jack Harkness. Why is that? Because Russell T. Davies has basically just recycled the same character he wrote 20 years ago, Jack Harkness. He could have done something better, like recast the character of Jack Harkness (don't get me started on that drama, that's a whole different can of worms) with Jonathan Groff and created a seriously great few episodes, but he didn't. And to end a first series with a finale relating to episodes of television tons of the viewers don't remember or are too young to have watched, it's a crappy way to end it.

The fact that it is only 8 episodes long totally astounds me. They have been doing 22 episodes or 12 at the least per series, but this time it's different. It's nearly like they're TRYING to create an immediately laughable version of Doctor Who. I, personally believe Disney had something to do with that, but that's a different post. We used to have action-packed 22-episode series of television we could talk about until the next one came out, but now, we are simply left with an overall forgettable series of television.

Do better, BBC.

[vaguely-concerned]

My two cents on how much of Mind!Varric is Rook’s mind trying to fill the blank space and how much is Solas actively talking through a convenient blood magic paper doll of the mind: I think it's a mix of both, a truly collaborative psychosocial horrorshow if you would, but waaaay more towards the second. It feels too directed and tactical at times to be anything else. Rook's mind is willing to go along with the denial phase as far as it can fucking carry them to not have to face the grief and regret and does its part in papering over details that don’t make any sense, the way brains will strive to create coherent meaning even out of deeply confusing input, but to my understanding it's a collaborateur in how that plays out, not the instigator or control center. Solas is using it as a path to agency and to gather insight into Rook as a person unguarded as he can't count on in his own guise. (That stoic option that leads to him being like 'oh I see you're cautiously denying me access to your inner life. well. at least you still have Varric to talk to. y'know as an outlet :)'. You absolute BITCH Solas! That alone convinced me that he HAS to have an active hand in it on some level.)

My guess is that it takes considerable effort on Solas’ part to make Mind!Varric do anything more involved or complicated than seeming to sit up in bed and give casual commentary, and that’s why he keeps having eerie five minute shallow pep talks with you before he announces he conveniently needs a nap aaanyway good luck kid you got this haha. When he’s just spouting NPC lines from his bedrest, I’m ready to believe that could be Rook’s mind being allowed to improv lines for him more freely because it’s less about Solas trying to get something out of them or working an angle and more ‘Still here! Still totally alive and fine and the mentor figure you know and love and trust :) don’t even worry about it! Thankfully there is no war in Ba Sing Sei, as we all know’ upkeep work lol. Rook’s mind is allowed to set the tone of Varric, the outlines, but not always the content. 

AND, on a (beautifully fucked up) character psychology level, I feel like Solas is indulging in actually getting to be the good supportive mentor figure to Rook with one hand to assuage the guilt he feels about what he's done -- and what he's going to do -- to them with the other. Same internal logic as he uses in Trespasser about the Qun. ‘Almost everyone is going to die from the course of action I’m doggedly pursuing eventually. But at least I can make their last years happier and freer and kinder than they would have been otherwise. and that kind of makes up for it right. a little bit. doesn't it. doesn't that make it better at least. I need that to make it better)'. Did I really take your beloved mentor and friend from you if you don’t know yet that I did? Some philosophers would argue not really! So it’s probably almost ok actually. Isn’t it even a little noble that I’m taking all this grief and guilt on myself and shielding you for now. With undertones that I’m not sure he would realize himself (and might be mortified by if he did) that he is so incredibly lonely, and even a dishonest and indirect emotional connection is more than nothing when you’re that desperate. In this setup he gets idk. Both the control he craves so incredibly badly in relationships and over himself, and the scraps, the fading afterimages, of intimacy and warmth and companionship, even second hand. The one thing Solas and Rook agree on deep deep down is that they really wish Varric weren't gone. They're handshake memeing this in the saddest and most creepy way possible.

I think an important element too is that Solas needs Rook and their team to *succeed* —  up to a certain point. He needs someone to hold the two other elven mean girls off until he can get out of here. Ideally, in a perfect world, even do all the hard work of killing them so he can swoop in at the end and do his thing when both sides are exhausted and out of resources to stop him, and then Bob’s your uncle! Same logic as he was using with Corypheus, and after that worked out so well, too! King of choosing to never learn from a single solitary mistake he’s ever made even though i fully believe he could have the capacity to Fen’Harel <3 The underlying idea isn’t flawed, you see, it was just unforeseen circumstances getting in the way. This time for sure it’ll all work out the way I cleverly imagined it in my head beforehand. Cue By Talos this can’t be happening etc. in the form of a statue almost crushing him like a bug. 

So he's providing guidance and forging Rook into a leader from two angles: one Rook might not trust, and one they probably will. Shaping them into what he needs slowly and carefully. He’s helping you hone your team into their most effective state, as he might have done with his own agents back in the day, setting up his chess pieces even if he has to squint through two glimpsed realities to do it haha. Pincer maneuver of an insidious stealth mentor you never asked for. Also… at one point mind Varric gives you a whole little monologue about how Solas' problem is that he’s always seen his interpersonal connections as flaws and see where it’s landed him, all alone and the worst part? it hasn’t even worked. it’s all been for nothing he’s back where he began with nothing to show for it but his mistakes. Like...that has such strong 'uh okay happy to play your therapist from two rooms away here what the fuck kind of traumadump is this' energy to me, I’m not sure Rook like. Thinks that much about Solas as a private person. So much of Solas' self-loathing and futile insights into his own flaws seem to shine through in Mind!Varric's dialogue all the time — I just can't believe that there's no guiding hand behind it as it were. 

Most of all. I feel like people underestimate the degree to which Solas is incredibly funny. As in, he has a very consistent and recognizable sense of humour. It’s one of my very favourite things about him. We must remember — it is crucial that we always keep in mind — Orlesian accent and wig Solas from May The Dread Wolf Take You (my beloved, the explanation for why I love this dude even with the. All of the everything else. No one does it quite like him). He is not at all above doing things or adding little flourishes for his own obscure amusement, in fact that seems to me to be one of his most consistent traits. The Randy Dowager Quarterly comment Varric has? The ‘Maybe this is the Dread Wolf’s revenge. Forcing us to house sit for him’ thing? To Me this is 100% Solas amusing himself in his boring Fade jail surrounded by the screaming hellscape of all his regrets. Source: it came to me as divine revelation through pure vibes trust me bro 

If nothing else I find it much more narratively interesting personally if the connection between Rook and Solas really is that defenselessly intimate and entwined (and so unbalanced!), and the sense of violation and invasion and betrayal afterwards consequently all the more nauseatingly intense. Even if you kept him at arm’s length in the open, he’s been under your skin the whole time, looking around, gathering what he needs to destroy you, wearing the face of a friend. Regretfully, probably, but choosing to do it every step of the way anyway. (Sound familiar, Inquisitor? Solas doesn’t have that many tricks when you actually look at it, he keeps returning to old tried and true ones like a dog with a bone haha.) Maybe he even genuinely meant some of it as mercy, which only makes it so much worse. It makes his sin against his own core principles of autonomy and the freedom of all beings in mind, spirit and body so much more juicily grave if it’s something he pursues actively and consistently, rather than it half-falling into his lap as a happy accident mainly orchestrated by Rook’s own subconscious. Solas, too, is at his very lowest point, the closest to giving in and becoming his own antithesis fully that he’s ever been, and it makes the choice of whether you still reach out your hand to him one last time or not all the more impactful and difficult.

[moomine]

Dad swansea and reader x daisuke established relationship

black friday | daisuke

author's note: this is based on the q&a where the devs said swansea was a sneakerhead lol. i love love love the concept of dad-swansea sm!! it actually maybe sorta kinda has me brainstorming another series.. thank you for the request! (cover image credit)

summary: (daisuke x f!reader) (modern au?) The semester is over and winter break has just begun. You and Daisuke met on campus and have been dating for a while now. When it's time for him to finally meet your dad, Swansea, he insists on getting him something for the season.

word count: 2,661

warnings: no trigger warnings (all fluff here)! all characters are 18+

now playing: Drugdealer, Kate Bollinger - "Pictures of You"

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

The mall was a bustling hellscape. Packed like sardines, people pushed and shoved as they tried to meander from place to place. The line for the shoe store wrapped around the corner, down a long, wide hall, and into the food court. You stood side by side with Daisuke, your coat rustling as you hugged yourself. A cold draft blew past as other customers came and went through the grand entrance, each time causing a shiver to rake through you harshly. Daisuke, who was previously twisting his silver rings out of an anxious habit, stopped and began running his hands up and down the length of your arms. The friction of his hands sent waves of much-appreciated warmth throughout your body. You looked up at him, a grateful smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

“Thank you,” you said, breathing a sigh of relief.

“Of course. It won’t be so bad once we get ‘round the corner.” Daisuke peeked over your head and past the line, peering ahead to see how much longer it would take. It was moving at a snail’s pace, and all he could think about was empty shelves. In the nightmare of worst-case scenarios running rampant in his mind, the sneakers he had been keeping a watchful eye on for months were already sold out. Daisuke’s brows furrowed as he caught his bottom lip between his teeth, chewing at the soft skin absentmindedly.

“Maybe we should have gotten here earlier,” you observed, glancing around at the line of people as it only grew larger. You turned back to your boyfriend with a sympathetic expression, features softening as you reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t have to do this. Y’know that, right? My dad will be happy just to meet you at all.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. I absolutely do.” He laughed nervously, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and using his now free hand to run his fingers through his hair. “You’re, like, the most important person in my life. Your dad has to like me, he just has to. If he doesn’t I might straight up disappear. POOF! Daisuke’s gone, vanished into thin air.”

“You gotta relax. He’s gonna love you, I know he will,” you replied, leaning into him for a little extra warmth.

Daisuke held you tighter and shook his head apprehensively. “I just gotta make sure. I really, really want to make a good impression.”

“And you will! You wanna know how I know?” you asked, shifting under his arm so you were facing him. The line moved up and so did the two of you.

He nodded, eyes filling with admiration as his gaze fell from the line before you two to your face. God, he loved your face. No matter how hard he tried, he could never understand how a guy like him got so lucky. Daisuke knew he was a pretty good-looking guy, but you were gorgeous. Must have been his charming personality and impeccable sense of style.

“I know because you’re kind. ‘Cause you have a good heart and you care so much. My dad’s a good judge of character, he’ll see that.” Daisuke opened his mouth to protest, but you raised a finger and pressed it to his lips before he could. “Hey, I’m not finished. So what you don’t know what you want to be yet? You’re ambitious and talented, and you’ve got time. Don’t stress about that, ‘kay? He won’t care, I promise.”

“Can I talk now?” Daisuke asked, your finger still pressed against his lips. 

“You may,” you replied with a playful grin, your hand dropping to your side once again.

“I know I technically don’t have to, but I’m gonna get these shoes and impress the pants off your dad,” he stated, all proud until he had the chance to process what it was he had said. “That didn’t come out right…”

You laughed, taking another step forward as the line continued to move up.

-

A couple of weeks had passed since Daisuke bought those sneakers. Finals season came and went, ushered out by the frantic wrap-up of the fall semester and the introduction to winter break. It was early December when the two of you finally drove back home, meaning it had finally come time for your boyfriend to meet your parents. 

The entire way there Daisuke was a nervous mess. That anxiety only intensified the moment you were leading him to the front door of your family’s home. On top of the gifts he was already carrying, Daisuke had insisted on still carrying the bulk of your luggage inside as well. With one hand he held his presents to your folks, and in the other, he used to pull your suitcase behind him; your backpack was slung over his shoulders. He said it was about chivalry or something like that. As you stepped onto the front porch an onslaught of barking erupted from just beyond the door. 

“Lucy! C’mon, old girl, that's enough!” your dad, Swansea, shouted from inside the house.

You turned to smile at Daisuke only to notice his attention was busy elsewhere. He looked down at the gifts in his arms, biting at his lips. After a moment he noticed you had stopped and his gaze drifted back to you, offering you a timid smile of his own. You reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, keeping it there as you began to rub small, comforting circles against the wooly fabric of his coat.

“It’s gonna be okay,” you whispered in a soft tone.

Daisuke looked down at the gifts in his hands, then back to you with a quick nod.

Now with his approval, you unlatched your keys from your belt loop and unlocked the door. As it swung open with a familiar groan, Lucy, your elderly border collie, came stumbling up to the doorway as she barked an excited ‘hello’. The dark patches of her fur were speckled with long, white hairs and her eyes held a little gray in them. She breathed heavily from her mouth, panting with her tongue hanging out. She looked from you to Daisuke, just as excited to see his new face as your well-known one.

“Hi, mama.” You knelt to her level, petting her head with one hand and scratching her chin with the other. “I’m home!” you shouted into the house.

The smells of garlic and onion wafted from the direction of the kitchen. Daisuke closed the door behind him, looking around the entryway with a curious eye. It dawned on him at that moment that he was standing in your childhood home. Over the course of your life, you had walked in and out of that very entryway countless times —going to school, coming home from your first job at that local coffee shop, leaving for prom or practice. 

“Took you long enough,” Swansea called back as he made his way from the kitchen to the two of you. “I was startin’ to worry you wouldn’t make it in time for dinner.”

Swansea stood in the doorway of the kitchen, a red apron that read ‘Kiss the cook’ tied loosely around his torso —one of the many stupid Father’s Day presents your mom had gotten him over the years. You stood up quickly, racing to him with open arms. He eagerly took you into a tight hug, his clothes and skin smelling faintly of 3-in-1 soap and motor oil.

“Haha. How about a ‘welcome home’ or ‘I missed you so much’?” you said sarcastically as you pulled away from him.

“Welcome home, kid. I missed you.” Swansea’s normal gruff tone of voice was much softer as he spoke to you.

Daisuke stood awkwardly by the front door, still carrying your belongings as well as his own. You glanced over your shoulder with a wide smile and motioned toward him. “Oh! Dad, this is Daisuke. Daisuke, this is my dad.” You took a step back, allowing the two of them to get a better view of one another.

His eyes shot from Lucy, who was now lying at his feet, and toward your dad. Almost too quickly, Daisuke let go of the suitcase and took a long step toward Swansea. He extended his hand, ready to shake, and adorned a toothy smile. The gifts along his other arm wobbled as he reached your father, which he clumsily saved from falling at the last minute.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, sir. I’ve heard a lot about you,” Daisuke said.

“That so? Looks like you got a lot on your plate, son.” Swansea took his hand, holding it firmly as he shook it. Daisuke did his best to match his grip, almost squeezing too hard. Swansea motioned with a nod to your luggage still on Daisuke’s person, along with the gifts in his arms.

“What this? Nothing I can’t handle,” your boyfriend replied, almost smugly. “These are actually for you. Well, and your wife.”

“I think we’re gonna go take my stuff upstairs,” you butt in, looking between the two with a slightly worried expression.

“All right then. Your mom’ll be home soon, dinner’s on in fifteen. I’m makin’ paella.” Swansea turned around with a skeptical look. “Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect. Thank you, dad!”

-

Once the two of you were upstairs, it became incredibly clear that Daisuke’s anxiety had intensified greatly. As the two of you walked through the threshold into your room, he let out a quiet sigh —both out of relief and distress. Over the semester, your room had become closer to a memory and now, as you returned to it exactly as you had left it, it had become an almost nostalgic sight. It was exactly as Daisuke had imagined. The pale blue walls were littered with band posters and pictures of you with friends from high school. You had everything you’d expect in a student’s room. In one corner, snugged away and smothered in soft blankets and pillows, was a full-sized bed. In another were a mismatched desk and dresser. Daisuke could easily see you sitting at that desk, engaging with one of your many hobbies or finishing up some assignments. The visual managed to make a small smile creep onto his lips, but it faltered quickly when he heard Swansea on the phone with your mother just downstairs.

“He hates me, I can already tell,” Daisuke said. He carefully set down your luggage as well as the gifts, tucking them away nicely on your desk.

“You don’t know that. My dad’s just like that with everyone at first, but he always warms up eventually. I promise.” You sat on your bed, pulling your shoes from your feet and tossing them in different directions.

To keep himself from pacing, Daisuke took a seat beside you before flopping back into the comforter. The plush blanket quickly engulfed him as he rested an arm over his eyes. With a little laugh, you laid down on your side next to him, caressing his face with your hand. It felt soft against his skin as you cupped his cheek. His arm fell back to his side as he leaned into your touch, letting out a content sigh at the comfort that alone brought him. His eyes trailed over your face with that same lovesick adoration he normally harbored while looking at you —a stare that said more than he ever could with words. He knew he would never get tired of looking at you. 

“It’s going to be okay,” you finally said, pressing your forehead against his. “I love you.”

His eyes fluttered shut as he tried to melt into you. Like it was second nature, Daisuke tilted his head ever so slightly to the side and closed the gap between the two of you. Sparks of electricity tingled against your lips as he kissed you softly. Abandoning their posts, his hands found their proper positions —one on your hip and the other along the back of your neck— and pulled you closer. You couldn’t help but smile against his lips as he kissed you, your chest becoming light at his touch.

Reluctantly, he pulled away, keeping his forehead against yours. “I love you too,” he breathed, sounding far more relaxed than before. “So much.”

His gaze met yours once more, and it looked like he was going in for another kiss. Just as you felt his breath against your cupid’s bow, there was a knock at the door, followed by the sound of Swansea clearing his throat.

“C’mon, get your asses up. I’m makin’ you set the table before your mother gets home. I want it to look nice for her, understood?” Your dad looked between the two of you with that questionable face Daisuke was starting to become accustomed to. He then turned around, shaking his head from side to side.

-

Dinner was a surprisingly quick affair. To nobody’s surprise, Swansea’s paella was a hit —other than a couple of gripes from your mother who had grown sick of the dish. She fell in love with Daisuke from the first second she saw him, and she only loved him more when he got comfortable enough to talk. After everyone was finished eating, Daisuke insisted on helping clean up and he did so happily. While your mom stepped outside to smoke a cigarette, Swansea, Daisuke, and you sat in the living room as your dad began to open his gift.

Swansea tore into the wrapping paper, eyes going wide when he saw the brightly colored shoebox beneath. He looked up from the present in his hands, and his gaze fell to Daisuke with an expression of pure disbelief.

“Son, I-” he started before promptly getting cut off by you.

“Just open it, dad.”

Daisuke shifted beside you as Swansea discarded the rest of the wrapping paper. He leaned forward, elbows resting on either of his knees as he bit at his lower lip. Swansea ran his hand along the top of the box and slowly opened it. After lifting the tissue paper and getting a proper look at the sneakers underneath, Swansea turned to your boyfriend again.

“These aren’t easy to come by. How on earth did you get them?”

“I, uh- well, we camped out for them. [Name] told me you had been checking out a pair online for a while, and I thought I’d save you the effort,” Daisuke responded, running a hand along the back of his neck. “It was totally worth it. I got a super good deal on ‘em and everything.”

“Thank you.” Your dad just nodded with the faintest smile on his face. Although his words were simple, cut, and dry, it was obvious to you and Daisuke alike that he was truly grateful.

“Of course. I’m really happy you like them,” Daisuke said. He was practically glowing, beaming with pride as he looked from Swansea to you. He mouthed an oblivious ‘hell yeah’ in celebration.

Later that night while you were getting ready for bed, Daisuke ventured down the upstairs hallway toward the bathroom. Along the way, he passed your parents' room. Through the crack in the door, a narrow stream of light illuminated the otherwise darkened hall. Daisuke froze in place as he overheard your mom and Swansea talking from inside.

“So, what did you think of him? He’s just a delight. Isn’t he, hun?” Your mom questioned.

“Who? Daisuke?” Swansea replied. The springs within the mattress groaned as he eased himself into bed. “The boy seems like a good man. I like him for her. She needs someone who’ll help her loosen up. Poor girl is too damn high-strung.”

Realizing he probably shouldn’t eavesdrop, Daisuke rushed to the bathroom with a look of pride on his face. Your dad liked him. Better yet, Swansea thought he was good for you. That was a better gift than anything he could have hoped for.

[hwonnrinji]

THE FIRST SNOW

kim minji x fem!reader

{ synopsis } : you were in a long-term relationship with minji since the start of high school. after graduating, minji broke the news that she's going back to canada. a long-distance relationship wasn't an option, so the next best thing was breaking up. you were still in love with her for a period of time but eventually started to move on– until you bump into someone on the street.

{ a/n } : tsbu lara fic hasn't seen the light of day since creation, i feel bad -v-

{ tags/extra } : 2 years after break up, lovers to exes to ???, light angst, hyein and reader are sisters, may or may not have projected a little

═════════

now playing : the first snow - exo

⤷ "if i met you,

would tears rise up?"

════════

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"Y/N! IT'S SNOWING!" hyein shook you awake while she rambled about the snow in excitement, pulling on your arm to go outside and see. you gave a half-ass protest but hyein insisted you check it out. "it might be one of the prettier first snows."

"hyein, do you have any idea what time it is?" you rubbed your eyes tiredly, the glare from the streetlights were rather annoying. the snow was as pretty as hyein said it was but you'd prefer to see it when you're fully awake.

"it's six in the morning," hyein answered. you turned to look at her, having to slightly look up to see her face. now that you're getting a better look at her, she's in her school uniform. "i have to leave for school in a bit."

"oh. i'll go get ready." as you were about to make your way to the bathroom, hyein quickly stopped you.

"it's okay, dain will pick me up."

your eyes narrowed suspiciously as you stared at her. "can dain drive yet?" seeing her tense, you sighed, putting your hand up to stop her from talking. "whatever, i don't care. just get to school safe and on time."

"why are you making it seem like i'll skip?" hyein pouted, clinging onto your arm.

"it's because you do. if you skip one more time, i'm sending you back to incheon with mom and dad," you warned. blood seemed to drain from hyein's face

"what?! noo, i like seoul," she whined while shaking your shoulders to take back your threat. you groaned, swatting her arms to let you go. "plus, haerin is the one driving."

"really? ok, have fun."

"hey! why are you suddenly ok when i mention that cat?"

"haerin value her studies so of course i trust her." you shrugged. a sudden voice called out for hyein down the street– more like a couple voices –signaling that her friends were here. "don't spend too much money on snacks, ok? love you."

"love you too, bye!" hyein rushed out of the house, turning the corner. you peeked your head out to see haerin's hyundai parked at the end of the neighborhood. you softly smiled seeing hyein run happily to her friends, reminding you of your high school years.

"well since i'm awake now," you headed back inside to get ready for the day, thinking about whether or not to go to class a little earlier than normal. since that's too much work, you decided to get coffee first.

~

your phone kept buzzing with endless notifications from god knows who, and while you tried to ignore it to admire the snow around you, a sudden call interrupted you. with an annoyed huff, you took your phone out of your pocket to see danielle calling. "hello?" you answered as you continued to walk to the coffee shop.

'did you hear?' she asked on the other line.

"hear what?"

'minji's back from canada.'

you paused for a moment, your lips parting in shock. minji, your ex that broke up with you two years ago to leave to canada, was now back in korea. "wait, i thought the move was permanent."

'it was never permanent?'

that little liar. "she told me it was," you said almost bitterly.

'really? before she left, she said she'd come back. look,'

danielle sent you a screenshot of minji's instagram story, the photo being her on an airplane with the caption 'back home.' you were absolutely furious, your hand gripping your phone so tightly that it might break. "she told me she wasn't coming back."

'maybe you remembered wrong? 'cuz that's not what she said to me nor haerin.'

"no, i'm sure. if she was coming back then we would've gone long-distance."

'y/n–'

"look, i don't wanna talk about this anymore. i'm gonna go." you didn't give danielle a chance to talk any further, your finger already pressing the hang up button. great. just when you were finally moving on, minji decided to come back. you shook your head and continued on your way. to say you were pissed would be the least similar way to describe how you were feeling. how could she lie and come back like nothing?

you finally reached your destination, your hand reaching out to grab the door handle until another hand appeared in front of you. "oh, sorry–" you backed up from the door but stopped midway once you saw who was holding the door.

"y/n?" god, you hated that voice.

"what're you doing here?" you asked with no interest, yet the sting in your eyes and the tug at your heart says otherwise. minji glanced inside the building before returning back to you, a confused look smothered on her face.

"getting coffee?..." right. it's a coffee shop. you fought back the urge to roll your eyes and cry at the same time, stepping back to let her go through. "you can go first."

"just go already." minji hesitated but reluctantly opened the door to go in first, pushing back the door behind her just enough so you can enter as well. you scoffed but didn't reject the offer, stepping inside to feel the warm atmosphere, a contrast to the outside. you placed your order quickly before finding a seat at one of the tables near the window.

minji sat in the seat in front of you, startling you a bit. her eyes seemed like she wanted to talk to you but you weren't sure if you were ready for that conversation yet. "can we please talk, y/n?"

"stop saying my name." you leaned back in your chair, your arms crossed over your chest. "you lied to me."

"it was the only option," she confessed. the sting in your eyes grew with each word she said. you ran a hand through your hair, pushing back the loose strands in frustration.

"only option? was i not enough to deserve the truth?"

"i didn't mean it like that..." her eyes were sad, practically begging you to let her explain. "i got accepted into a university in a toronto," she started, "i wanted to keep our relationship but i was going across the world. it would drive me insane to hear you say that you miss being held by me because, fucking hell, y/n. i'd miss it too."

your bottom lip started to quiver as tears welled up in your eyes, droplets falling down onto your lap. you're can't cry. not here, not now.

"i didn't wanna hear you say you wish i was there with you, i didn't wanna see myself crying in front of the bathroom mirror after calling you," minji continued on, "i didn't wanna have to pretend like i wasn't affected. so, i left."

"but why? why did you have to go? you could've stayed."

"it was the only university that accepted me. if yonsei accepted me then i would've." you sniffled, your hand coming up to wipe the tears from your eyes. you hated yourself for crying at that moment. "i was young and naive, but now, i know what i want." she reached across the table, holding your hand dearly. "i want you. i want us to start again."

"minji, you can't just leave and come back to ask for a second chance."

"please, y/n, please. i'm still in love you and i'm sorry it took this long for me to realize." her pleas were convincing but you weren't sure if you should give in. "let us be us again."

"i... i don't know." you pulled your hand back, slipping out of your seat. you left minji sitting alone as you walked out of the building, too caught up in your emotions. you felt a firm hand grab your wrist and turn you back around.

"love, please–"

"don't call me that!" your chest rose and fell rapidly as tears streamed down your cheek. "no. you don't get to break up with me and then call me love." minji only stared at you, half sorry and half full of pity.

"please think about it," she begged. "text me when you have an answer."

"don't boss me around." you took back your arm, stuffing your hand in your jacket pocket. "hyein still hates you."

"i'm sorry."

"stop, just stop. your number is still blocked and i don't plan on unblocking you." your hands curled into fists in your pockets out of anger. "see you around."

- tbc -

[astr-venus]

｡⁠☆ Who Is This Diva✦

｡⁠☆Content: Shouta Aizawa BF headcanons

｡⁠☆Cw: swearing, pregnancy mention, threesome mention (still sfw tho !), no use of y/n

✦ Not the sweetest boyfriend or husband, at least not in most people's opinion. He's quiet, blunt, a bit of a tease as well, and all of these things kinda make him look like an asshole. These qualities don't change when you're together either, you just get really good at reading Shouta.

✦ Incredibly observant and somehow remembers everything you ever tell him. You could slightly hint at wanting to go to some fancy ass restaurant, and 6 months later when your anniversary rolls around all of a sudden he's taking you there, hell you don't even remember mentioning it.

✦ The man is blunt, but still a little shy, especially with overly lovely PDA. He can do handholding, hugs, pecks on the lips, but anything more than that and he'll push your face away like he's annoyed. He knows damn well he's flustered and embarrassed, but he absolutely refuses to let you see that. Heaven forbid you see your big strong man weak for you.

"What the hell is wrong with you, we're at the school... No you can wait till we get home you aren't dying, stop being dramatic.... My face is NOT red and I'm not into it either, get away from me. You're such a pervert."

✦ A little insecure. He doesn't feel good enough for you. If you left him or fell out of love with him he wouldn't beg for you back, but I can't say he would just accept it either. He'd probably just... Grieve. He would want you back so bad, but would hate to make you stay when he fully believes there's way way better than him out there.

✦ shit texter. Terrible texter. Horrendous texter even. He's so dry and he deplores talking on the phone, half the time he just leaves you on read. He just don't even try to reply.

✦ a cuddle bug, but only behind closed doors. As soon as the lock on your front door clicks his arms are wrapped around you and his head is on your shoulders. He trails around the house behind you like a lost puppy (and if you don't let him in the shower with you ? Oh Lord you'll never hear the end of it)

"I don't care about whatever the hell an everything shower is. There's no reason why you won't let me in, I've literally been inside you, I don't care."

✦ possessive. Wants to know where you are and what you're doing at all times. Slightly controlling, but will back off if he's over stepped.

✦ scruffy but hygienic. Showers at least once every two days, but most of the time twice a day because of teaching and patrol. He buys antibacterial everything in a generic scent, but if you have preferences for anything he doesn't mind changing it as long as he still gets clean

✦ a worrywart. If you stub your toe and don't tell him he's pissed. An injury is an injury no matter how minor. He just wants to make sure he's taking care of you. If you do the same and try to help him with any cuts or bruises from patrol he'll pretend to get fed up, but in reality you make him feel so incredibly warm inside he feels like he might burn to death

✦ secure in his masculinity. If you're a fashion guru (or if you're Eri) he couldn't care less if you picked his outfit. You can put him in strawberry perfume and a skirt and all he would ask is that you make the outfit school appropriate

✦ speaking of Eri, that's his daughter, straight up. He loves that little girl like he birthed her himself, and the minute you two start bonding is the minute he figures out what heaven looks like.

✦ Shouta never really wanted kids, not to say he doesn't love teaching the brats at his school, but that really was enough time spent with children for the day. Until Eri came, and then when you came. I think he'd love to give Eri a little sibling, though I don't think he wants more than 3 kids. 4 at most.

✦ don't try to watch movies with him, don't bring him to the theater either, he's just gonna fall asleep as soon as the title screen comes up. He will beg and moan to watch some shitty movie with you and fall asleep before the main character even has their first line

"Hmm, what? No I wasn't sleeping... My eyes were closed because I was training my spacial awareness, I promise I'm still watching the movie... When have I ever lied to you ?"

✦ doesn't have a big presence and has a staring problem, people who don't know you're together think he's a stalker. Between his overall rough looking appearance and his hard focus on you he looks like a serial killer, there's a good chance you won't have to worry about a lot of other women bc of this tho (not that he would ever cheat, he'd fall upon his own sword first), so good for you !

✦ jumpscares you forever. He claims he isn't doing it on purpose, but for how often it happens it's gotta be malicious !! It's gotta be !! You turn around in the kitchen, when the hell did Shouta get there ? You're at the store, when did Shouta follow you out the door ? You wake up, good lord Shouta why are you staring at me like that ? There is no escape from how often he scares you either.

✦ starts referring to you as his wife before you're married, but he only calls you wife behind you're back before you're engaged. Since I don't see Shouta as the type to really yearn for marriage, I think if you don't have a want for it either he's calling you his wife a year into the relationship

"Yeah, my wife is at home with my daughter. They hate publicity as much as I do so I left them at home.... We've been together for a year, but known each other much longer. I'm incredibly lucky to have her."

✦ a very soft man. To outsiders he's cold and prickly but he's actually the sweetest blueberry in the basket, he's like a huge cat. All of his touches are gentle, he would never forgive himself if he hurt you, he'd spend his whole life atoning for something like that.

✦ I would like to end this post by saying if you ever convince him to do a threesome it would be with Hizashi. That is all.

Also, what character would YOU like to see next ? Thinking Mina or... Maybe I'll work on my Hawks characterization... Decisions decisions....

I kinda wanna make another post like this but it's erasermic + y/n. My fav polycule besides for tdbkdk if I'm honest. Should I do a Mic intro and then the poly post or just skip straight to the poly post ?

Slow posting as well 💔💔 made this blog and immediately got hit with the Too Busy To Post Beam, but I stare at it longingly before I go to bed every night

｡⁠☆Requests open

[vigilskeep]

Can we hear about the soap opera style second de riva?

oh sure

she’s the human mage daughter of the previous talon de riva and she’s also illario’s arranged married wife

viago killed her dad in order to replace him. she’s not angry abt this, actively. (she doubts anyone who had met her father could be angry about it.) but there IS underlying tension, how could there not be? viago could have killed her too, and instead has in some ways become like a brother to her. but in another world where he hadn’t gotten there first, house de riva might have been hers

illario did not want to marry her, she was picked out for him by caterina, to strengthen their house ties. to illario, it reads like an insult: she’s not a match meant for a future first talon, she was passed over and disinherited in her own house. she’s also a mage, which despite all caterina’s claims of it being a new era under the new divine and house dellamorte moving with the times, he suspects would be used against their branch of the family inheriting anything. he didn’t even want to get married in the first place, because he’s a chronic flirt here for a good time. and nobody is dragging lucanis back from tevinter to make him get married like he’s a pawn you can afford to sacrifice

his dissatisfaction means he continues to be a chronic flirt, with other people, after they’re married. she’s professionally humiliated, which is as good as personally humiliated for a crow; charm and beauty were skillsets of hers, she can’t even win over her own husband when it’s required to maintain the alliance in treviso, and everyone knows it? viago’s furious because it’s an insult to house de riva’s honour, too. (he’s being a protective big brother. which would be nice, if he could express it or indeed if he had acted on some of those instincts before agreeing to her being married off. read the contents of these brackets in teia’s voice.) all this is why she is still referred to as a de riva, because she kind of went back home to soothe tensions but without actually getting a divorce

she was obviously normal and rational about all of this, as she always is, a good, composed, collected crow, who has never lost her cool in training or on contracts or with her own father’s murdered body before her very eyes. she would like to clarify that the above events had no effect on her eventually lashing out at a certain antaam patrol and setting several things both metaphorically and very literally on fire. unrelated.

lucanis, on his return, immediately knows exactly what illario was like about it and is intensely mortified on behalf of his family, because he is a man with Romantic Standards. she thinks this is endearing and restrains herself from playing on his heartstrings about it too often. the deeply obvious thing to do here is have them fall in love for drama, that would be the maximum soap opera move, and to be clear i DO think it’s funny for illario to suddenly decide he does actually want his wife as soon as lucanis wants her, but honestly i just want lucanis to have one decent family relationship and this is how i can make that happen by force of will. and now not only is illario’s own wife siding with lucanis in the power struggle, but lucanis is replacing illario with her! we actually don’t need romance to make this deranged

thus i’m still debating the most amusing option on the veilguard team to sweep illario’s wife off her feet. i would love to see where almost any of them are going with this. emmrich, for example. and davrin with lucanis’ sister-in-law is obviously amazing (though i actually don’t think he’d go for a wealthy married human woman, i think he’s got more sense and/or self respect 😭). ultimately neve absolutely has a noir detective’s prerogative to win over a femme fatale with a rich husband who doesn’t treat her right so she would get dibs

[scoobywrites690]

Sharing is caring

Being Captain John Price's girl means whenever he goes away on deployment you're quick to send him a variety of photos to help him push through his mission.

sometimes it's of your bare tits when you've just stepped out of the shower, and they've still got soapy water all over them making them glisten in the bathroom light. sometimes it's them in the most recent bra that Price picked out before deployment.

other times it's your plump ass in a thong all bare and plush, just begging for him to grab handfuls of it. your back arched making it stick out more. whatever you send him it would always have the intention of teasing him. knowing that when he got back, he'd absolutely destroy you for teasing him.

The task force of course knew about you. Price would always tell them about the new places you both visited together, sometimes on one of their more quieter days you'd come down to the base to see everyone. striking up conversations with everyone, laughing automatically when they say something amusing.

even though they know that you're Price's girl it doesn't stop them from exchanging glaces with you whenever they can, quick passing touches that they let linger for as long as possible. tension building up quickly whenever you visit the base. so much so that Price could no longer ignore it. he noticed how they looked at you, how their touch lingers longer than it should do. How their eyes wander over every one of your curves with no shame for the fact that their Captain is right there.

Price loves you more than anything, and he trusts his boys more than anything, and he knows how riled up they get when deployed for such lengths of times. So when the idea occurs to him he can't help but to mention it to you.

“Sweetheart, I know it’s a strange idea but just think about”

“Strange?! John it’s more than strange!”

“I know, I know but listen to me love. And stop givin me that look woman”

“Fine”

“Thank you, now look I’m not saying that type of stuff straight away, just maybe you know when you send me those sexy little photos?”

“Yeah…”

“Well what if I shared them with my boys?”

“John…”

“I won’t do anything if you don’t want me to, It’s just I watch my boys get so riled up on deployment with no way to release it, and I’ve got all these sexy little photos and I just thought that maybe-

“Okay”

“Okay?”

“Okay John”

And that was that, from that point forward all the photos you’d send to John would now be sent into a group chat for everyone to see.

The first time you did it you found yourself riddled with anxiety, your mind swirling with possibilities of what their reactions might be.

*ping*

“God damn Bonnie, look at you” - Johnny

*ping*

“My god” - Gaz

*ping*

“There she is then, my gorgeous girl” - John

It took Simon a while to come around but when he finally did, he was almost as big of a supporter as Johnny.

*ping*

“Aren’t you a beaut luvie”

Before you know it you’re sending photos to the group chat on the regular. Their praises and compliments blowing up your phone on the regular.

[crossdressingdeath]

While I'm on the subject of the sacrificed party member and that talk between Solas and Rook where Solas assures Rook that if they win their team's loyalty they won't have to order anyone to die for them (because their team will do it on their own), I think one of the most fascinating differences between Solas and Rook is that... Solas says that they won't have to order anyone to die for them if they win those people's loyalty, but he never gives anyone that chance. The most blatant example is those spirits in the regret memories, who he sends to their deaths as a distraction without so much as a word of warning; he just... sends them off as sacrificial pawns. He "did what he had to do", and he didn't much care whether they would sacrifice themselves for his goals of their own free will or not. Solas kills people whenever he decides it's convenient for him! He needs a distraction, so he sends those spirits to their deaths. Felassan insists that modern Thedas deserves a chance, so Solas kills him. Mythal's remnant has the power Solas needs to put his plan into action, so he rips it out of her. Varric pushes him to let go of the past and give up on this plan, so Solas kills him as soon as it looks like he might actually be able to interfere. Rook can be compassionate to Solas and fully prepared to work with him to stop Elgar'nan, and Solas fucks with their head all game then stabs them in the back. He ends up alone in a world he's made an enemy of because he has killed or abandoned everyone who might have been on his side "for the good of the plan". On the other hand Rook never willingly orders anyone to die for them, they let their allies make their own decisions, and they end up with a team so loyal that they delay the fight against Elgar'nan and Solas for weeks to search for them after their disappearance; while there was definitely some prep to be done before they could go into that fight and their allies have absolutely been busy while they waited, the Veilguard absolutely put going into that fight off to look for Rook.

And I think that's the thing that really gets me here. Rook doesn't only escape Fade jail where Solas never could because they can let go of their regrets and move forward where he can't! It's also because Solas has burned every bridge he ever had; there's no one left to come to his rescue. Rook doesn't get out because they move forward, although that does keep them moving where they might otherwise have given up before the Veilguard found them; they get out because their friends come to help them, and Solas has used up and thrown away every friend he ever had. Would Mythal have come to his rescue? Felassan? The spirits he used as pawns and sacrificed? It doesn't matter, because he treated them as things to be thrown away for his benefit and the ones that survived turned on him for it (so he killed them). As Harding (if she's the one to die) says during the Fade jail sequence, to Solas everyone's a pawn that he'll sacrifice without a thought because that's what pawns are for. Rook gets out because they don't throw people away! They always have their friends' backs and never try to sacrifice anyone but themselves without that person agreeing to it (it has to be Davrin who brings down Ghilan'nain's archdemon and as far as anyone knows will die for it, but they don't try to trick him into it, they just make it clear that that is almost certainly going to be necessary and he agrees)! Rook gets out where Solas couldn't when every member of their team still active comes to their rescue because the team loves them and is loyal to them, and there is no one left to do the same for Solas. He disposed of them all. "It's for the greater good" is a pretty sentiment and all, but there really is an underlying message here of you have to let people choose. You can't decide whether someone sacrifices themselves for them; you don't have the right to throw people's lives away like that or decide the course of their lives. That's what separates our heroes from the Evanuris, and that very much includes Solas. The inability to realize and accept that is a character flaw of Solas's that's been present since DAI, and now we see the consequences: he's alone, no one will ever come to his rescue the way the Veilguard comes to Rook's, and he has no one to blame but himself.

[thememestrider]

Sfw Alphabet- Jago Sevetarion x F! Reader

Okay babes, here it is. As requested by the wonderful, beautiful, gorgeous @yanagikou, here is the sfw alphabet for Sevetar. I hope I did him justice. I did my due diligence in researching him, but he's not a character I'm very familiar with so. I did my best, but I apologise in advance if I've gotten anything supper wrong or ooc.

As usual, unedited, so sorry for any and all mistakes. Please enjoy and send thru any fic or hc requests cause I love doing them. They push me outside my comfort zone (like this one haha) and I love making content for others to enjoy :)

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

Jago Sevetarion adores you like literally nothing else in the galaxy... but he has no idea how to show it. Like, sure, the general, more explicit-type ways of showing affection such as kissing and nsfw stuff, he understands. But the subtle stuff? Stuff like casual intimacy, loving words and soft physical touches that do not immediately lead to sharing a bed? The poor man has no understanding of it. Considering his background, however, this isn't surprising. That being said, however, after having some time to follow your example and get comfortable and familiar with the idea of physical expressions of affection, I can see Jago picking it up in some small way. For one, it's to show you he cares. That he's willing to change a few of his ways for your sake. But more importantly, it's to remind his brothers that you're his. That he is always within hand's reach of you. So, for the love of the False Emperor, they'd better stay the hell away from you or he will make them wish they were dead.

Once he is more comfortable with the idea of expressing affection, I can see Jago being a fan of pet names. He strikes me as that sort of man. A few suggestions could be "little one", "little bird" or "little lady." Anything that emphasises your size difference and the fact that you are his.

B - Best friend (What are they like as a friend? How would the friendship start?)

So long as you showed yourself to be loyal to him and his cause, I reckon Jago would be actually be a pretty good friend. He's quite charismatic and loyalty is one of, if not his strongest value. He's not the kind of friend to offer you a shoulder to cry on, but so long as you'd do the same for him, he would absolutely ride or die for you.

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

I'll be honest, even after he becomes familiar with physical affection, I struggle to see Jago being super into cuddling. To accept such physical comfort, to be that vulnerable with another living being, I think he would struggle to not see that as weakness. He might hold onto you in a more protective, possessive way, but don't expect anything particularly gentle or comforting from him in that regard.

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

Jago loves his life as a Night Lord. Delivering justice, executing punishment on those who deserve it (all according to him, of course), it's what he lives for. He truly believes in it. And he would want you to believe in it, too.

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

I don't really think I need to elaborate on how Jago might break up with you if he doesn't like you- you can put two and two together. However, if Jago still loves you, and it's circumstance that's forcing you two apart, I see it being a... tumultuous affair. He's not familiar with compassion or gentleness- even if he feels those things, he doesn't know how to express them, be it with his body or his words. Therefore, Jago would break up with you by either being so cold it drives you to leave yourself, or by ravishing you with harsh words. It's not malice, however, that makes him do this. It's to protect himself and his own hearts. Maybe if he acts like this doesn't hurt him, it won't. But, of course, it still will.

Now, if you broke up with Jago... Jesus Christ, babes, you don't know what you've done. Only person worse to break up with would be Konrad Curze himself. Whether you want it or not, Jago is your furious, heart-broken stalker shadow. And unlike someone like Sanguinius, who even amidst his possessiveness would balk at the thought of it causing you distress, Jago doesn't have any such concern. He's yours, you're his. Damn you for forgetting it, and damn anyone who thinks they can change it.

F - Fiancé (How to they feel about commitment? How quickly would they want to get married?)

Jago would want to marry you right away. One, because loyalty is everything to him. And two, for your protection. If you're cornered by a Night Lord who doesn't know better, being able to name drop Jago Sevetarion as your husband is a pretty sure-fire way to get him to leave you alone.

G - Gentle (How gentle are they? Both physically and emotionally?)

I think some of my previous answers have answered this one pretty well already: to the Night Lords, gentleness is a foreign concept at best and actively despised at worst. Jago might learn how to be gentle from you, and he might partake consciously for your benefit, but it doesn't come naturally to him.

H - Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it and what is it like?)

Similar to cuddling. If Jago hugs you, it's because he's feeling possessive or protective of you. Now, that being said, if you were injured or in a particular state of distress, Jago would hug you in comfort. For as problematic as some of his behaviours may be, he still loves you. He adores you. He wants to keep you safe. And he wants you to know all of those things.

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

A long, long time.

J - Jealous (How jealous do they get? What are they like when they're jealous?)

I might be a bit contrarion in this regard, but I don't see Jago being a jealous lover. Protective and possessive, absolutely, but not jealous. He's loyal, and if he's fallen in love with you, it's because he knows you're loyal too. And, as such, he trusts you absolutely. He also doesn't see any of his brothers as a potential 'threat'; he's the Primarch's favourite son, the best Night Lord there ever was: no one can compete with that.

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

Fierce, hungry and so passionate it brims on obsession. Your lips are getting bitten, your breath is getting stolen, and for good measure, he might bite a chunk out of your neck or shoulder, too.

L - Little Ones (How are they around children?)

Honestly, if The Long Night short story is anything to go by, Jago might just be the best with children a Night Lord could hope to be. In general, he would be indifferent to kids, but if it was a kid that was close to you (say, a little sister or brother, for example) or a child who has been the victim of sin, Jago would try to be compassionate. He'd be a lot better at it since meeting you, too.

M - Mornings (How are morning spent with them?)

Jago is absolutely waking you up with a ravishing of fierce kisses. Nothing further your honour.

N - Nights (How are nights spent with them?)

Jago suffers from psychic headaches and nightmares, so nights with him would be pretty unsettled to say the least. They would, however, provide ample opportunity for you two to bond on an emotional level. If anything, these nights might just be the thing that bonds Jago to you forever. After waking from a nightmare or from a terrible headache, Jago can't hide that vulnerability from you, no matter how hard he tries. And when you answer that vulnerability with compassion- massaging his scalp until the pain fades or curling up on his chest so he might hold you while he settles back to a state of sleep- that shit is gonna change Jago somewhere deep in his soul. In those moments, he's going to be human again.

O - Openess (When will they start revealing things about themselves? Do they reveal things slowly over time or all at once?)

Jago's life might be wraught with pain and suffering, but he doesn't seem particularly affected by it, if you catch my drift. Therefore, he'd be relatively comfortable opening up to you. It would be presented as anecdotes or entertaining stories rather than seeking comfort, however. I imagine he'd be deeply entertained by any of your shocked reactions to some of his stories, too.

P - Patience (How easily are they angered?)

For a Night Lord- for a space marine, even- Jago is pretty patient. He's far from saintly (obviously) but his temper is something you can work with.

Q - Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail or do they forget the minor things?)

Jago feigns that he doesn't care about such things, but in truth he remembers everything. You are the object of his adoration- he's committed everything single little thing about you to memory.

R - Remember (What's their favourite memory of the relationship?)

That first time he woke from a psychic night terror and you were there to comfort him. He'd never admit this, not even to himself. But that moment means everything to him. It's the moment he realised that he needed you- not as a serf, but something so much deeper. It's the moment he fell in love with you.

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

I think I've answered this already. Jago knows how dangerous the Night Lords are to you, not to mention the galaxy as a whole. He protects you with unmatched ferocity and devotion. In spite of outward appearances, you're probably the safest person in the entire galaxy as Sevetar's wife.

T - Try (How much effort do they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts and everyday tasks?)

Much like R, Jago pretends he doesn't care about such things, but he does. And in his own, little ways, he shows it to you. It's sweet, really.

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

Possessiveness, overprotectiveness, borderline obsessiveness as well as a splash of astartes arrogance and night lords callousness.

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

Not at all. This man slaughters people daily. He's covered in scars. He doesn't care about his looks at all.

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

He wouldn't know it at first, but absolutely he'd feel incomplete with you. If you were ever injured, captured or he almost lost you in some other way, the realisation would hit him like a bus. You could expect the protectiveness to get worse after that, too.

X - Xtra (A random head cannon for them)

If in some alternate timeline he was able to save Altani's life and take her with him, the three of you would become the most twisted but loving nuclear family. Jago would be a Night Lords girl dad, you'd be a big sis/aunt to Altani, and Altani would help further break down Jago's walls.

Y - Yuck (What are some things they wouldn't like in a partner, or in general?)

Disloyalty, someone who did not accept him for him (excluding the areas where you help him grow/change for the better, of course)

Z - Zzz (What are some sleeping habits of theirs?)

As mentioned back up in N, Jago struggles with sleep due to his psychic afflictions. Also as mentioned, your presence would help this greatly. I could even see him getting to the point where without you by his side, he couldn't sleep at all.

[nausicaamusiclover20]

How’s Dating James Hetfield?

How you met?

★You met James at a backstage party after one of Metallica’s concerts. You were hanging out with mutual friends, and you didn't even realize who he was at first. He struck you as approachable and down-to-earth, someone who didn’t carry the usual “rockstar” arrogance. You talked about your shared love for music, and when you mentioned your love for the classics, his eyes lit up. There was an instant connection.

First impression

★His first impression might make you think he’s reserved, maybe even a bit distant, but in reality, he's just more of a gentle soul than anyone expects. You’re not just another fan to him; you’re someone he genuinely wants to get to know. His warm smile catches you off guard—it’s genuine, not forced. There's no arrogance in his manner, just the kind of humility you don't expect from someone who's performed in front of millions.

Despite being one of the biggest rockstars in the world, James somehow feels approachable and real. His presence is calming, not overwhelming. You quickly realize that what makes him stand out the most isn’t the fame, but his ability to make you feel like the most important person in the room.

First confession of feelings

★One quiet night, as you were driving together, James opened up. “I can’t stop thinking about you,” he confessed, his voice soft. You felt the same, and it was clear that this connection wasn’t just physical—it was emotional too.

What James loves about you?

★ James loves that you see beyond his rockstar persona. He appreciates that you’re not intimidated by his fame, and you never treat him differently because of it. You’re genuine and have this calm presence that balances out his intensity. He loves your sense of humor, especially when you can make him laugh during tough days, and how you always know when he needs space to recharge but also when he needs affection.

What makes him happy?

★Seeing you genuinely happy is what makes him the happiest. Whether it’s watching you perform a small act of kindness for someone else or catching you lost in a moment of joy, it fills him with warmth. And when you’re with him, you make him feel like everything in the world is right. He loves making you laugh, and nothing makes him happier than seeing you smile.

What he loves when you do something for him?

★James isn’t someone who asks for much. But when you surprise him with something thoughtful—like cooking his favorite meal after a tough day, or taking care of him when he’s under the weather—he becomes incredibly soft and appreciative. The way you make the effort to look out for him melts his heart, and he can’t help but adore you more for it. When you show up at his concerts to surprise him, or when you pick out something you know he’ll love, it makes him feel deeply cherished.

Pet names

★James isn’t one for cheesy pet names, but he has a few sweet ones for you. He might call you “love or babe" in a deep, gravelly voice when he’s feeling affectionate. When he’s being playful, he might say something like “hottie” or “princess” But it’s the way he says them—soft, almost like a secret between you two—that makes it special. And when he’s feeling particularly romantic, he’ll call you “my love.”

Would he teach you play the guitar?

★Absolutely! James would love to share his passion for music with you. He’d patiently teach you basic chords at first, encouraging you even when you struggled. He would make it fun, cracking jokes to keep the atmosphere lighthearted, and showing you how to play some of his favorite Metallica riffs. When you finally nail a tricky part, he’d beam with pride, and you’d know he was more than just teaching you an instrument—he was sharing a part of his soul.

Singing to you when you're sad

★James is surprisingly in tune with your emotions. When he notices you’re feeling down, he’ll do everything in his power to cheer you up. One of the things he might do is quietly pick up his guitar and play a soft acoustic version of one of his songs, singing to you in a voice that’s comforting and intimate. Sometimes, he’ll just sit with you, humming along to the melody, or even singing a completely random song to make you laugh. His way of making you feel safe and loved through music is one of his most touching traits.

Shower together

★When you’re both exhausted after a long day or tour, James loves the idea of unwinding together in the shower. It’s both funny and intimate—he’ll make you laugh as he tries to avoid getting soap in his eyes, and you’ll both jokingly fight over who’s taking up more space. But it’s also a moment of closeness. James will run his fingers through your hair, wash your back for you, and even steal a kiss here and there. It’s a simple, yet profoundly intimate moment of connection.

Sleeping together

★James has a surprisingly soft side when it comes to sleeping. He’s not overly clingy, but he loves being close to you. On most nights, he’ll be the little spoon, enjoying the comfort of your warmth. He’ll bury his face in your neck and often fall asleep to the sound of your heartbeat. But there are times when he wants to protect you, and you’ll find him being the big spoon, holding you close as you both drift off to sleep. Either way, he always makes sure you’re comfortable, often tucking you in and making sure you have everything you need before settling in.

How he reacts when you're sad

★When you're upset, James is an emotional rock. He won’t try to fix everything right away, but he’ll listen to you talk about what’s bothering you. He knows when to give you space and when to comfort you with a simple touch. If you’re crying, he’ll pull you into his arms, rub your back gently, and quietly reassure you that everything will be okay. His deep voice murmurs things like, “I’ve got you” or “You don’t have to carry this alone.” He’s the kind of partner who doesn’t just want to help you get better—he wants to help you heal.

When you're sick (and when he's sick)

★When you’re sick, James becomes incredibly protective. He’s the type to make you soup, get you medicine, and stay by your side to make sure you’re comfortable. He may grumble about how much he hates seeing you unwell, but deep down, he’s genuinely concerned. He’ll even skip band rehearsals or cancel plans to stay home and take care of you. If he’s sick, though, he’s way clingier. He’ll want you around all the time, asking for cuddles, extra attention, and comfort. When he’s not feeling his best, he just wants you close, and he’ll complain about everything—from his stuffy nose to his sore throat, but he’ll also be extra sweet, asking for your company more than usual.

Is he protective about you?

★ Absolutely! Though James Hetfield may appear tough or intimidating on stage, in reality, he's deeply protective in every sense when it comes to someone he loves. He’ll always make sure you feel emotionally safe, listening intently when you need to talk, offering comfort when you’re upset, and stepping in quickly if anyone disrespects or hurts you. He’s physically protective too, guiding you through crowded spaces, keeping an eye out for potential threats, and making sure you're never in a situation that feels unsafe. Whether it’s standing up for you or just quietly being your shield in stressful moments, he’ll always have your back.  His protectiveness isn’t just about grand gestures—it’s in the little things, like holding your hand, checking in on you, and making sure you're okay. With James, you always know that you’re safe, cherished, and never alone, no matter what the world throws at you.

In bed

★James is passionate and tender. During intimacy, he’s not just about the physical connection but also the emotional one. He checks in with you during and after, making sure you’re comfortable and feeling good. “How are you feeling?” he’ll ask softly, always making sure you’re enjoying every moment.

[kingkat12]

omg I love your fics so so so much and I think you would absolutely nail a fanfic where roman is teaching reader how to smoke? or something like that 😭 like it being really intimate and stuff ughh idk but roman smoking just makes me go absolutely feral

Roman..... teaching reader.... how to smoke....?

do you.... want to give me..... a heart attack......?

THIS WAS SO DAMN HOT IT MADE MY BREATH HITCH WHEN I READ THIS, you BET i want to write this!!! you know me, i love writing reader having her first time doing anything at all lol, this was PERFEEEECT!! hope i've done your request justice, thank you so much for this one!!<3333

nymphomaniac (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, smoking, mentions of sex, angst, flirting deluxe, Roman's mouth is FOUL

summary: not all lessons are good for you-- especially the ones taught by the notorious Roman Godfrey, who you also happen to have a history with

word count: 2,425

a/n: and this is NO WAY an encouragement to smoke, i don't smoke myself so... heh. read at your own risk i suppose, and be critical of what you read on the internet PLEASE!! mwah

How to smoke – a thorough guide by Roman Godfrey. That was a book I wouldn’t buy in a million years; why give a millionaire more money?

Thankfully, I didn't have to pay anything to get a free trial from the author of said imaginary book.

Roman sat next to me on the porch leading up to the house of the party we were at, having asked me to follow him outside to escape all the noise. I wouldn’t have gone with him, had I not started to get a headache from what I could frankly only call ear-rape. “It’s too fucking loud in there,” I muttered, shifting on the uncomfortable step. “There’s a reason I don’t go to these things very often.”

Roman shrugged, patting down the pockets of his jacket. “It’s not usually this bad when someone else hosts. But I heard this guy is notorious for being legally deaf, so that might explain it,”

“I wouldn’t be shocked if he did that to himself,”

With a laugh, Roman pulled out an orange-hued box of cigarettes, shaking his head. “It’s too bad you don’t attend parties that often. I never see you anymore, y’know? Just bring some earplugs if you’re so bothered by the damn noise,” 

Oh. My heart jumped with a jolt of pain. I cleared my throat; “Of course you don’t see me anymore, Roman… We broke up two months ago,” 

Despite seeing it coming from miles away, it had been the hardest breakup of my life. I knew whom I had gotten into a relationship with, knew exactly what kind of a guy Roman was, so I had been emotionally prepared for it when it all fell apart. The relationship had been more of a whirlwind thing, a lust thing, which had left me with a very bad case of being-walked-in-on PTSD. That one time Roman decided he wanted to go down on me at school, only for my math teacher to walk in on us in the classroom, was a memory I was sure I would never forget. Sadly. 

However, the bliss of being sexually compatible couldn’t carry the relationship forever, and I was aware of that long before he was. Around the time we hit the one-month milestone, I could see in his gorgeous green eyes that he was tired. Roman needed to be free to function, free to fuck any girl that walked by, and free to disappear for hours and come back whenever it pleased him. 

And what did I need? I wasn’t so sure anymore. 

If I were to use my brain and ponder that question once more, I would conclude that I needed to stop sitting next to my hot ex-boyfriend who was now lighting one of his classic cigarettes. Roman knew I didn’t approve, knew how many times I had told him it was cancer on a stick—still, I settled for the fact that he wasn’t scared of death. Actually, he probably wasn’t scared of anything other than real commitment. 

With a sigh, Roman nodded to himself. “I’m aware, but I’m still allowed to miss the sight of you,” He turned to me, his strikingly green gaze piercing mine— I held my breath. This was getting intense. Nonetheless, the next thing that rolled out of his mouth caught me off guard; “Do you have a lighter?” 

… What? “Roman, you know I don’t smoke,”

He shrugged, the corners of his mouth tugging into a smirk. “Worth a shot. I had hopes that you’d at least managed to become an arsonist in our time apart, maybe then you’d carry a lighter around with you,” Like this, faced with his heartbreakingly beautiful smile beneath the hues of the moonlight, I was reminded of the first thought I ever had when I met him; he was so… cool. Roman always looked so damn cool. I loved the way it made my heart flutter— the feeling of being with the coolest guy at school was still the most thrilling feeling of all. I felt cool, knowing he wanted to sit next to me instead of being inside the loudest party of the year hunting down his next lay. 

It was impossible not to smile back. “Don’t be so disappointed. At least I’m still a cannibal,”

Humored, Roman chuckled; “Glad to hear it,”

“And you’re still a nymphomaniac,”

That seemed to strike a nerve— Roman let out an offended huff, now patting down the pockets of his jeans. “Forget it. I never go anywhere without my lighter, anyway,” he mumbled.

Oh no. “I didn’t mean it as an insult! We were joking, Roman. You’ve never been the type to hide that you like… sex—” 

“Don’t fucking talk to me about sex right now, I’m too tipsy,” Roman’s words were harsh, snappy. He wasn’t looking at me anymore, now fishing out his usual red lighter; I hadn’t seen that one in a while. “No sex-talk. None.”

“Fine, Jesus!—”

“Thanks to you, I now have to smoke away the taste of you. Thank you,” he grumbled, a slight twitch appearing beneath his left eye as he brought the cigarette to his plush lips— oh, how I missed those. “Your perfume isn’t helping, either. So don’t talk about sex, because then I’ll start thinking about sex with you, along with how you taste after I’ve been going down on you for about ten minutes, squirming, whining, and then I start thinking of how much I miss it. So could you just—just shut up for a minute, okay?”

I stared at Roman in disbelief, my lips parting as my jaw threatened to hit the floor. He must’ve had a few beers too many to be talking so openly about… anything. I would go off on him about his use of words, telling me to shut up, but I was too stunned to think properly. With my mind still buzzing, I scooted closer to Roman on the cold steps of the porch, daring to lean my head down on his shoulder like I used to do when we were together. “You’ve only proved my point,” I breathed, closing my eyes. “Nympho.”

I knew him too well— I knew Roman would appreciate casual physical contact. He didn’t have enough of that in his life, anyway. Chuckling, amused, he lit his cigarette, inhaling with a quiet moan— something told me he had been waiting for a hit for some time. And just as I opened my mouth, ready to start my usual smoking-is-bad lecture, Roman cut me to it; “Don’t start talking about cancer now, either,”

“It is a cancer stick,”

“I don’t care,”

“You should!”

“But I don’t,” With a sigh, Roman exhaled, watching the smoke evaporate into the warm summer air. He leaned his head on top of mine, and I couldn’t help but think how the smell of the cigarette clashed with the comforting smell of his shampoo. It ruined everything. 

This conversation was one we’d had tens of times, and I wasn’t too keen on repeating it. “Roman…” I reached for the cigarette he lazily held between his fingers, feeling the softness of his hand against mine. “Maybe you don’t care, but I do. You need to take care of yourself.” I didn’t need to look at Roman to know his brows were drawn together as I took the cigarette out of his hand, holding it away from him. 

He sighed again, slower this time; “If you’d ever smoked, you’d see the appeal,”

“Yeah?” It was hard not to roll my eyes— “The appeal of cancer?”

With a low laugh, Roman turned his head, kissing the top of my head out of habit. Weirdly enough, it felt platonic for the first time ever, yet it didn’t fail to evoke a hard thump in my chest. It felt like I was being electrocuted from the inside, and my eyes sprung open—I was happy he couldn’t see that. “Not cancer, don’t be stupid,” he huffed. “Just use that pretty little brain of yours, I know it’s in there somewhere,”

If only he knew my brain was currently working overtime. “I’ll never see the appeal of inhaling crap that ruins your lungs. If anything, you’re the stupid one,”

Roman rolled his eyes, gently giving my head a nudge with the shoulder I was leaning on, motioning for me to sit up. “Let me show you, just once. If you don’t like it, you’re allowed to call me a nicotine-addicted nymphomaniac until the last day of high school,”

“And the day after. An extension for your favorite ex,”

“Nope. The day of graduation, and that’s it,”

I turned to look at the blindingly pretty smile on Roman’s face— how was it possible not to fall for this guy? He was gorgeous. “Fine,” I mumbled, knowing I would call him that no matter what behind his back until the day he died. “So how the fuck do I do this?”

Something in Roman’s green, green, eyes shifted. Maybe he was wondering why he had ever let me go in the first place— maybe he was thinking about the word to describe the color of my hair as it mixed with the grays of the moonlight? He cleared his throat, turning his body towards me as I mirrored him; “The first step is easy,” he said, reaching forward to place his hand behind mine, bringing the cigarette to my lips. 

My skin burned. Fucking burned, with every touch. 

Roman’s eyes were already big, which is why I was surprised to see they could get even bigger when he gazed down at my lips. “Open up,” he breathed, absentminded. 

Now, I could be sure he wasn’t thinking about the color of my hair. Maybe he was back to reminiscing about the taste of me? Or other nasty nympho things, as per usual.

I placed the cigarette between my lips, but Roman let out a short, alarmed sound that nearly made me yelp. “Now comes the trick,” he urged, leaning closer— I was unsure whether he was aware he was inching towards my face or not. The closer he got, the easier it was to focus on the single strand of his dark hair that lay over his forehead, straying from his stylings. It was so damn attractive— I had to hold myself back from smiling, now that I remembered the one time I caught him pulling it out of his gelled updo to lay it there on purpose. Cutie.

“The trick?” I echoed, realizing he had frozen to his spot just staring at my lips. I pulled the cigarette away from my mouth; Roman hadn’t said anything for about five seconds. This was bad. This was dangerous. It made me want to jump him and let him fuck me right here on the porch. 

“Uh—” Roman cleared his throat, letting out a breathy chuckle as he shook his head. “Sorry. The trick, right…”

God, I was two seconds away from bursting into flames like a phoenix. Was I still breathing?

“For your first time, you should— because this is your first time, right?”

“Yes!”

“You sure?”

“Roman!”

“Alright, alright!” Roman laughed, biting his lip as he tilted his head just a little. Had the cigarette not forced a space between us, I would’ve started wondering when he would kiss me. “The trick is to not inhale too much smoke for your first time. I don’t want you to cough up your left lung on my new shirt. And hold the smoke in your mouth for a moment, let it cool down, and only inhale it when you’ve taken the cig out of your mouth.”

If Roman one day actually did decide to write a smoking-guide, I could at least be sure the content would be explained simply and concisely. “Seems easy enough,” I mumbled, watching Roman’s pupils widen as I placed the cigarette back between my lips and sucked in a small amount of smoke into my mouth.

It felt like I was getting a mild burn on my tongue— it wasn’t pleasant. For a second, I got scared my eyes would pop from the shock, and I closed them to ensure the blood at least wouldn’t splatter anywhere if I happened to be so unlucky. But when the burning subsided, I finally dared to inhale.

My eyes sprung open, meeting the fascination in Roman’s green gaze as my previous headache caused by the loud music disappeared. My brain suddenly felt like it was buzzing with pleasure and energy. Before I knew it, I was half giggling against Roman’s mouth, letting my cigarette-clad hand fall by my side. “Wow,” I breathed, in awe of the satisfying whirring in my head. 

Roman looked like he was two seconds away from cooing at me, right in my face; “There you go, good girl,” he purred. “Do you get it now?”

God, I hated myself. Still, what I hated more, was that my hot ex-boyfriend was blatantly right. “I think I do,” 

Roman hummed, smirking as he reached for the cigarette in my hand, smoothly brushing his fingers across my skin on his way down. With a content sigh, he looked into my dazed eyes as he pressed his free fingers over the pulse of my wrist— “I still make your heart jump,” he breathed, leaning in so close I could feel the hotness of his breath against my cheek.

I swallowed. “You always will. It doesn’t mean anything,” My eyes flickered back and forth between Roman’s green eyes and his plush, pink lips despite knowing I shouldn’t. 

“It doesn’t?” he echoed, visibly amused as he raised his brows. 

“… Nope,”

Roman hummed, nudging the tip of my nose with his just as he always did—was this maybe just a habit, or was he going to…? The atmosphere was so thick, I could reach out and touch it. My breath had long caught in my chest, but Roman’s next words only made it worse; “Let’s talk about sex again,” he whispered against my lips, his lashes hanging heavy over his eyes.

“No. This is over. We’re just sharing a cigarette,”

“We could share a bed too,”

“Stop it,” I breathed, hoping he’d spot the desperation in my eyes. “It’s been two months. Aren’t you over this?” Please don’t make this any harder than it already is.

Roman stilled. With the next beat of my pulse against his fingers, his eyes softened with a new realization beneath the moonlight; 

“Over you? Never,”

[dinsbeskar]

*HIGH PITCHED DOLPHIN NOISES*

*KLAXONS AND SIEGE HORNS*

*HORNY EDM PLAYING IN THE BACKGROUND*

Babe. I have so many feelings. I copy-pasted so many lines, holy shit. This was just gorgeous, just insanely beautiful, I can't, it's so good. I'm gonna try though.

You watched Varda situate the stars in the heavens above Arda as if they were jewels and you were the one setting them alight with the fire burning within you for they could lighten up the firmament. You were responsible for the treacherous element that the fire was – useful in many ways but also dangerous if not used correctly or with malicious intent.

GORGEOUS

I absolutely love her being the Mother of Flames, oh it's perfect!!! Bc of course Aulë would be drawn to her, and Mairon as a result. Morgoth doesn't know he's got a good thing there smh

Aulë The Smith began to court you as he watched you set the stars on fire. He was dreaming of how perfectly you two would go together if you were to fuel the fire inside his forge – the source of all his creation would come from you.

The source of his creation, fucking hell I love this concept!! Perfect

What a source of inspiration you were for Mairon, though. The same way others worshipped Varda, Mairon worshipped you. Everytime he stared at the fire inside the forge, your image was all he could think of as the thought of you lingered in his mind constantly. You were long gone from Arda after eloping with Melkor but he hoped it was not yet over, that he would see you again. In the early days, when his spirit was still pure, he often fantasised about you being taken back by the Valar and forgiven by them, so he could build altars for you amongst the kins that would yet awake to inhabit Arda.

Oh god this is gorgeous

The yearning???? The devotion???? Building altars for his goddess??? Give me everything!!!

Some of his bolder daydreams were about another form of punishment for you – he would have you humbled in the name of redemption, bound to a lowly Maia. He meant himself, of course. He imagined the Mother of Flames becoming the source of his creation, fueling the fire within his forge and watching over his craft as his very own wife. He wondered how jealous Aulë would be then and how humiliated you would be, yet he was certain he could make you happy and fix the malice of your spirit with his undying love and endless devotion.

Oooooooooh I love this though!! Even as a pure uncorrupted spirit, he's still coveting the woman who was supposed to be his master's wife, ooof I love it!!

In his greatness, he dwelt in solitude and his mind remained ungraspable for you. He would rarely let you inside to allow you to see the world the way he perceived it. Though he desired you, it was not as an equal, neither as companion nor as lover. And even in his desire, there was contempt, too, because as Varda’s sister you were a reminder of her rejection, which still lingered within your husband as a wound unhealed. And your beauty, your power, your holiness… They were nothing but pale echoes of your sister’s qualities; faint reflections of her no matter how hard you tried. And each one of your failures to meet Melkor’s towering expectations was met with your husband’s wrath.

Fuck this guy!!! Morgoth is the worst!!!!! Lmfao nothing like being in your sister's shadow, especially in the eyes of your evil husband

Alone in his presence you felt belittled and humbled. But by his side before others, you were exalted and invincible – cloaked in the might of his dominion – and that illusion of power became intoxicating. For allowing you to get sedated with such greatness was enough to worship him like he was Eru himself and out of all your offerings, he loved that devotion the most about you.

"Cloaked in the might of his domination"

This is poetry!!! Absolutely amazing turn of phrase

When Mairon came to your husband’s service, you sensed immediately the amount of his worship and devotion towards you. You sometimes wondered if the Maia joined Melkor for him and his power or were you the real reason for his spirit’s betrayal. His devotion amused you but you offered him no kindness as his yearning for your favour was met with cold indifference. Even though he was desperate for more of it, he should know better and be grateful for your rejection. Because if Melkor would realise the true nature of Mairon’s feelings, he would not go easy on him and his wrath would be merciless. 

Ooooooh it's so juicy!!! So she's sparing him Morgoth's wrath, but she also won't sink to his level, but she is amused by him, I just love the layers 🤌

Sometimes you wondered how it was possible that Melkor could not sense Mairon’s admiration for you. Perhaps he thought of it as something innocent – something expected from his servants to feel towards his Queen. Perhaps he thought of it as silly and pathetic, unworthy of his attention, because he knew you would never humiliate yourself to betray him for a servant.

Or perhaps your husband cared about you even less than you suspected.

Ooof the last sentence!! Ouch!!!

I do think it's more like, these two would never betray me bc they know what would happen, I have no need to worry

But ouch

Mairon was the one who took all the responsibilities upon his shoulders and while committing to his duties, he would always emphasise he was fulfilling them in your name. Forever a servant he would remain. 

God we love a dutiful husband (I know they're not married but uhhhhh it's my fave Sauron lmfao)

Your wish, however, was to go much further away and Mairon knew about it, which was worrying him. He was trying his best – nearly desperately – to reunite your husband’s armies and dark creatures of the shadows, to become their leader and build a realm for you to rule over. To become worthy of you.

Oh godddddddd "to become worthy of you" it's giving dutiful husband!!! (Dutiful wanted to autocorrect to pitiful, which is an amusing Freudian slip, bc he is both and we love him for it)

He swallowed thickly out of fear but his eyes remained soft, filled with nothing but pure admiration. In Melkor’s eyes you had been Varda’s unworthy shadow. Perhaps no one had ever perceived you with such devotion as Mairon.

I started not breathing here, goddddd I love this

“I shall build you altars in my realm; in every village, every town, every city. And in the capital of my kingdom where I will reside, I shall build a temple where you can find your peace,” he breathed out. “Just, please, do not abandon me.”

DO NOT ABANDON ME

NEVER, KING, NEVER

Holy shit this whole bit was gorgeous

“Come to me,” you ordered, harshly. You watched him trying to stand up slowly but you quickly stopped him. “On your hands and knees,” you explained.

THE WAY I GASPED

OKAY GO OFF QUEEN

Domming the hell out of him, we are here for it!!!

He cursed Eru himself for creating him as such a low spirit because this way he could never be worthy of you and to be able to walk by your side as your equal was all he had ever wanted.

Oh ouch oh no

Just wanna kiss him better lmfao, a hug would fix him!!

“Let it be then… Anything to be close to you, my Lady,” he cooed. “Please, allow me to touch you,” he begged as he moved even closer to your legs.

THE BEGGING, HOLY SHIT YES

However, he had never been so close to them. To you. He crawled up even closer as he planted soft and devoted kisses to your exposed skin. You had never known kisses like these because Melkor had been mostly devouring you, tormenting you, using you. 

Oh goddddddd

He's the first to show her that soft devoted affection, my heart hurts!!! The trauma!!!

Wicked thought it was for you were the most corrupted and fallen out of the female Valar and yet you doubted any of them were worshipped with such eagerness as you were now.

I fucking love this, she's still thinking of the other Valar and comparing herself 😂🤭

Pleasure without pain was an experience brand new for your flesh and you had to steady yourself as he watched in awe.

"He watched in awe" I am dying

"Pleasure without pain" Oh god she has suffered!!! He can fix her!!! Or make her 10 times worse!!! Let's find out!!!

Your body of a goddess allowed you to go on without breaks; a peak after peak as you shivered and trembled, caressing his head and meeting his hazy, devoted gaze once in a while to let him know he was doing good. Your praise meant everything to him for all he had always known was your husband’s reprimands. 

That's so sweet though???? It's the encouragement for me, bless his tiny black heart

“Do not fear me, sweet Mairon. I only want to see for myself if it is true that you have fallen and corrupted yourself so much with your devotion towards me that you have been gifted with desires of the flesh,” you smirked. “Or cursed with them,” you pointed out as your hands worked on his robes and the trousers underneath them swiftly and quickly.

A gift or a curse?? Let's find out!!!

I stopped copying after that, I was overwhelmed by the writing. holy shit that was so hot??? And beautifully written??? So gorgeous???

Sub!Sauron, my beloved, you wrote him so well, and her cruelty is perfect oh my lord

I can't wait to read part 2!!!

— HUMBLED (I)

PART TWO

PAIRING — Sauron x fem!Vala!Reader // Morgoth x fem!Vala!Reader

SUMMARY — Grown tired of living in your sister's shadow, you offered yourself to the one whom she had rejected once – Melkor. You regretted it quickly as he turned out to be a cruel lover and you became the very first subject of his twisted tortures meant to reshape one's spirit. In his eyes you were nothing by Varda's shadow but in the eyes of Mairon the Maia you have always been the only and the most holy goddess. When his master is gone, he can finally get close to you.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — I had two ideas for Sauron with Morgoth's ex and honestly? I will probably write one more because I like the other idea a lot, too. This fic is quite dark because of the nature of Reader's relationship with Morgoth. Not gonna lie, it was a challenge to write a Reader who is a literal Goddess but Sauron himself inspired me to explore this dynamic when he seemed to be so proud of the fact that it was a God himself torturing him... 👀 The Reader in this fic is a Vala (and Varda's sister but she remains undescribed as well), so she changes her appearance like Sauron does but I am not describing any of her forms in any details. In the next part there will be some goo/blob!Sauron + Halbrand and in this part our favourite ginger loser makes his comeback! 🦊 Apparently, I can't write him as a dom... 😂 Well, surely not with someone who is so much above him. Huge thanks to @dinsbeskar once more because we were brainstorming about this idea together. ⭐ Special thanks to @olchr-1 as well! 💚 PS – I haven't described how Morgoth looks like either but I imagine him as a tall, black haired hottie like on the fanarts. 💀😂 There is also a slight mention of the Reader being originally promised to Aulë, which was inspired by the story of Hephaestus and Aphrodite.

WARNINGS — Reader is evil (reshaped by Morgoth but not completely evil), domestic abuse (with Morgoth), mentions of Sauron and Reader being tortured by Morgoth, SMUT, sub!Sauron

WORD COUNT — 4,330

🔞 THIS FIC IS 18+ 🔞

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

HUMBLED (I)

The very first thing you remembered was beholding your sister Varda being crowned one of the mightiest of the Valier and Queen of the Valar, Queen of the Stars, a beauty beyond the description of Men and Elves. So pure to reject Melkor and marry his brother Manwë instead – King of the Valar.

You followed your sister nearly everywhere, hoping to bask in her light but it never seemed to be enough to make you feel warm. You were greedy – at first, you were jealous of her husband and insisted on her spending more time with you than with him, striving for all of her affection. Once you realised that it was a lost cause, you began to detest Manwë.

You watched Varda situate the stars in the heavens above Arda as if they were jewels and you were the one setting them alight with the fire burning within you for they could lighten up the firmament. You were responsible for the treacherous element that the fire was – useful in many ways but also dangerous if not used correctly or with malicious intent.

Aulë The Smith began to court you as he watched you set the stars on fire. He was dreaming of how perfectly you two would go together if you were to fuel the fire inside his forge – the source of all his creation would come from you.

Everyone, including your sister, was encouraging you to become his wife for his heart was of a noble kind. Your own heart remained unsure but you wished to marry as well instead of only watching Varda and Manwë sharing a bond you could only dream of. Aulë, however, was not who you were dreaming about.

It was Melkor that you were drawn to; Manwë’s powerful brother, the very same whom your sister had rejected once and he had grown to resent her. You were observing him often because he fascinated you and you probably were the only one amongst the Valar who understood him. You were outcasts, both of you, but you were better at hiding it.

He was sometimes observing you as well, from the corner of his eye. You could feel his gaze on you and you knew that he had to feel the same way you did – he could see the malice inside of your heart for his was the same.

Whenever you would spend time with Varda dancing in the flower fields, you could feel Melkor creeping in the shadows and watching. Of course, he was there for your sister but still, some of his gazes were reserved for you only.

Therefore, on the eve of your wedding to Aulë, you forsake the light and seeked the shadow as you sneaked out of the palace you lived in and you found yourself knocking upon Melkor’s doors. There was no fear inside of you, only pure determination.

And you knew you could never replace your sister; your power was a mere shadow of hers. Yet, you offered yourself to Melkor on that night and he took you in, claimed you as his own and made you his bride. Before dawn, together, you fled from Arda for some time, leaving behind sorrow and dismay.

Your sister was most grieved by your betrayal. Alongside her, Aulë descended into a state of melancholy until Manwë mentioned to him the possibility of courting Yavanna instead and The Fruit-Giver became his wife – that union became one of harmony and love unlike the one you would have with The Smith.

You always fascinated Mairon the most – (Y/N), Mother of Flames, Aulë’s lost love. As his disciple, Mairon observed you humbly before and he knew his master’s heart enough to know that Aulë would always feel bitter towards you. Yavanna was his love match but she could not fuel the fire inside his forge and become the source of his creation.

What a source of inspiration you were for Mairon, though. The same way others worshipped Varda, Mairon worshipped you. Everytime he stared at the fire inside the forge, your image was all he could think of as the thought of you lingered in his mind constantly. You were long gone from Arda after eloping with Melkor but he hoped it was not yet over, that he would see you again. In the early days, when his spirit was still pure, he often fantasised about you being taken back by the Valar and forgiven by them, so he could build altars for you amongst the kins that would yet awake to inhabit Arda.

Some of his bolder daydreams were about another form of punishment for you – he would have you humbled in the name of redemption, bound to a lowly Maia. He meant himself, of course. He imagined the Mother of Flames becoming the source of his creation, fueling the fire within his forge and watching over his craft as his very own wife. He wondered how jealous Aulë would be then and how humiliated you would be, yet he was certain he could make you happy and fix the malice of your spirit with his undying love and endless devotion.

And perhaps that blasphemous dreams of Mairon the Maia, bold in their insolence, would be a kinder fate for both of you and the whole Arda. Because, in the meantime, you were starting to realise with bitter clarity why you should have stayed away from Melkor, the Dark Lord, in the first place.

In his greatness, he dwelt in solitude and his mind remained ungraspable for you. He would rarely let you inside to allow you to see the world the way he perceived it. Though he desired you, it was not as an equal, neither as companion nor as lover. And even in his desire, there was contempt, too, because as Varda’s sister you were a reminder of her rejection, which still lingered within your husband as a wound unhealed. And your beauty, your power, your holiness… They were nothing but pale echoes of your sister’s qualities; faint reflections of her no matter how hard you tried. And each one of your failures to meet Melkor’s towering expectations was met with your husband’s wrath.

None among his servants who would later know him as a cruel master ever dared to complain about his punishments in your presence because you were his first subject of torment, his earliest experiment in reshaping the will of another and they knew that you survived things they could barely think of. You were a Vala and you could endure the worst treatment, therefore in your suffering he reshaped you in ways that would shatter even the mighty Maiar. Melkor forged you anew and twisted your already spoiled essence to his dark design.

Alone in his presence you felt belittled and humbled. But by his side before others, you were exalted and invincible – cloaked in the might of his dominion – and that illusion of power became intoxicating. For allowing you to get sedated with such greatness was enough to worship him like he was Eru himself and out of all your offerings, he loved that devotion the most about you.

To be his wife was not easy – it was a torment and perhaps you were burdened with the most difficult fate out of all the Valar. Yet, it was what you had chosen willingly for yourself and you carried this responsibility with pride, trying not to think too much of the life you could have lived instead. You were made for much bigger things than spending your whole lifetime resting in the sunlight and being followed by the forest animals like some of the Valar ladies were. No, you were aiming for greatness and the price for it was pain.

When Mairon came to your husband’s service, you sensed immediately the amount of his worship and devotion towards you. You sometimes wondered if the Maia joined Melkor for him and his power or were you the real reason for his spirit’s betrayal. His devotion amused you but you offered him no kindness as his yearning for your favour was met with cold indifference. Even though he was desperate for more of it, he should know better and be grateful for your rejection. Because if Melkor would realise the true nature of Mairon’s feelings, he would not go easy on him and his wrath would be merciless. 

Sometimes you wondered how it was possible that Melkor could not sense Mairon’s admiration for you. Perhaps he thought of it as something innocent – something expected from his servants to feel towards his Queen. Perhaps he thought of it as silly and pathetic, unworthy of his attention, because he knew you would never humiliate yourself to betray him for a servant.

Or perhaps your husband cared about you even less than you suspected.

After Melkor’s defeat, you were hiding inside your fortress in the North from the wrath of the Valar. Your husband’s absence was welcomed by you with relief but also a huge emptiness within your soul. You had been his companion for ages and to be left alone now felt oddly wrong. Many of the creatures of darkness expected you to take the leadership but you stepped away instead, wishing for a calmer and more peaceful time at least. 

The power you had once craved now was something you dreaded. Your husband’s ways had drained you nearly completely, you were a shell of your old self. You wanted nothing but to crawl inside a hole and spend another eternity there, resting as a person unknown to the outside world. 

Mairon was the one who took all the responsibilities upon his shoulders and while committing to his duties, he would always emphasise he was fulfilling them in your name. Forever a servant he would remain. 

Now, without Melkor’s eyes observing him constantly, he gained more courage to bask in the remains of your corrupted light. You sensed his gaze on you wherever you would go.

Your wish, however, was to go much further away and Mairon knew about it, which was worrying him. He was trying his best – nearly desperately – to reunite your husband’s armies and dark creatures of the shadows, to become their leader and build a realm for you to rule over. To become worthy of you.

“My Lady,” he kneeled as he approached you and he kept his eyes low although you knew he dared to look up here and there, too tempted not to lay his gaze on you. “Please, grant me an audience,” he pleaded.

“You wish for an audience, Mairon? But is it not you preparing to get crowned very soon, my cunning spirit? Soon it shall be me asking for your audience,” you teased him and he looked up, his eyes filled with panic. Melkor would punish him for such schemes but you were not him and his influence was upon you no more. 

“I might crown myself the new Dark Lord, my Lady, but I would never consider myself to be above my Goddess,” he confessed and you smiled sadly as you approached him to grab him by his chin.

He swallowed thickly out of fear but his eyes remained soft, filled with nothing but pure admiration. In Melkor’s eyes you had been Varda’s unworthy shadow. Perhaps no one had ever perceived you with such devotion as Mairon.

“I shall build you altars in my realm; in every village, every town, every city. And in the capital of my kingdom where I will reside, I shall build a temple where you can find your peace,” he breathed out. “Just, please, do not abandon me.”

Your soft smile turned into a smirk when you let go of his chin and moved your hand to his ginger hair to caress it softly like he was your pet.

“I must, Mairon. When you build your temple for me, though, then I might come back to reside there. But until then, we must part,” you insisted and walked away at the sight of his eyes getting wet.

“Will they ever follow me without you by my side?” He asked, unsurely.

“They will not. Not all of them. Can you not see that it is a cursed path, destined to become a failure, to follow Melkor’s steps?” You turned around to look at his face once more. “Run away with me, Mairon. Forsake this realm, forsake your schemes,” you proposed and he gasped, visibly contemplating his answer. But the sparkles faded away from his eyes very quickly.

“No,” he shook his head. “I must stay and heal Middle-earth. I cannot abandon its people because of my own selfish desire,” he resisted you as you chuckled at that.

“You are no god, then, Mairon. Gods do whatever they wish. Spirits like you were created to serve,” you teased, cruelly as you sat on your armchair and he moved uncomfortably, looking away, but he remained kneeling and humbled.

“Allow me to serve you then, Mother of Flames,” he dared to whisper, nearly inaudibly, his breath shaky and lips trembling.

You tilted your head, thinking about his words. You would leave this realm soon, perhaps forever. He surely deserved a little treat before your departure for all the worship and devotion he had been gifting you with. And you deserved to give in to desires of your flesh as well after all the treatment your husband had given you.

“Come to me,” you ordered, harshly. You watched him trying to stand up slowly but you quickly stopped him. “On your hands and knees,” you explained.

Mairon glanced up at you as if he could not believe the amount of humiliation you would put him through now. It was true that back in the day you had often contrasted with Melkor’s cruelty but now Melkor was no more and you had been taught the craft by the very master of it.

Perhaps his influence was still upon you and it would remain there forever. 

You waited with an eyebrow raised and Marion gave up eventually, crawling on the floor towards you. He might have been humiliated and embarrassed but his eagerness was obvious in the way his eyes sparkled at the sight of your legs getting closer and closer to him. And when he was nearly in front of them, you opened them slightly as he gasped and looked up at you with admiration. He could not believe the access you had just given him while you smirked at his obedience.

“Serve me, Mairon,” you requested, wickedly. “Let my taste remain on your lips and might you never forget it while you build your kingdom in my name. I will come back to you then, my sweet, unless the Valar find and imprison me before,” you leaned in to caress his cheek with your finger gently.

“I shall fight them then. No matter how much it takes, I will release you and bind you to me instead,” he whispered.

“Bold of you, mighty Maia, to speak of such matters,” you let out a laugh. “Even as the greatest of your kind, you would still only be gifted with a mere shadow of my powers. We will never be equal, Mairon,” you reminded him and his eyes welled with even more tears at such a harsh reminder.

He cursed Eru himself for creating him as such a low spirit because this way he could never be worthy of you and to be able to walk by your side as your equal was all he had ever wanted.

“Let it be then… Anything to be close to you, my Lady,” he cooed. “Please, allow me to touch you,” he begged as he moved even closer to your legs.

“Proceed,” you nodded and watched him closely, observing his every movement, every gaze, which probably intimidated him even further but you could sense his desire to please you becoming too grand to care about anything else.

His hands wrapped around your ankles and moved up slowly, brushing your skin as the skirts of your dress pulled up, revealing your calves for him to admire. He had never seen them.

Well, perhaps he had. He had often sneaked up on you here and there and you had known about it but welcomed it with nothing but a chuckle as you had been pretending to be oblivious.

However, he had never been so close to them. To you. He crawled up even closer as he planted soft and devoted kisses to your exposed skin. You had never known kisses like these because Melkor had been mostly devouring you, tormenting you, using you. 

Mairon sighed and you felt a shiver go down your spine at the feeling of his fingertips brushing the back of your knees. You slid lower on the armchair as your skirts pulled nearly all the way up, exposing your thighs to him. Your obedient servant gasped and looked up at you once more as if he was asking if that part of you was allowed for him, too.

“Have I told you to stop?” You challenged him and he nodded before burying his head between your soft thighs to kiss and lick them softly, breathing the sweet scent of your skin as if you were the holiness personified.

Wicked thought it was for you were the most corrupted and fallen out of the female Valar and yet you doubted any of them were worshipped with such eagerness as you were now.

“If we never left Valinor and I never followed Melkor,” you breathed out, caressing Mairon’s ginger hair and playing with the delicate strands of his hair between your fingers, “you would be my disciple and we would spend forever in the fields under the sun with you worshipping me, my sweet spirit,” you shared your fantasy with him and he whined at that as he moved his face further and deeper, his nose nudging your glistening cunt as he requested for your legs to open even wider.

“So impatient,” you pointed out and grabbed him by his throat to pull him away. You felt him swallow underneath your hand and then you forced him to look up by grabbing his chin. It was slightly wet already from your leaking cunt and you leaned in to give him a possessive, open-mouth kiss; to taste yourself on him as his eyes widened but he gave in immediately.

While granting him with a kiss he would never forget, you opened your legs further and further, giving him full access to the sweet nectar between your thighs and he whined into your mouth like a brat when he realised what you were doing. He laid his trembling hands on your thighs and moved the folds of your dress even further to the back, making sure your cunt was all exposed for him.

The cold air of the room caused your clit to twitch and swell before his thumb found it and brushed it. Now it was your time to moan into his mouth. You broke the kiss and pressed your forehead to his as you closed your eyes and took a few deep breaths in. Pleasure without pain was an experience brand new for your flesh and you had to steady yourself as he watched in awe.

“A-allow me…” Mairon pleaded and your eyes opened once more as you looked deep into his with a nod.

You laid back in the armchair and watched him with curiosity but also a hint of contempt to see a spirit so mighty humbled like this – perhaps you could understand Melkor more than you had ever expected to be able to but it was truly fascinating and pleasurable to humiliate other spirits. 

To be able to kiss and lick your cunt, to devour it – it was surely a life-changing experience for your sweet Mairon. His usually calm demeanour changed in an instant, reminding you of a hungry hound as he whined and whimpered, lapping on your juices as if it was the sweetest nectar granting him immortality. He was intoxicated as his hands squeezed your thighs to keep them open and allow him to feast eagerly. 

Your body of a goddess allowed you to go on without breaks; a peak after peak as you shivered and trembled, caressing his head and meeting his hazy, devoted gaze once in a while to let him know he was doing good. Your praise meant everything to him for all he had always known was your husband’s reprimands. 

Your flesh could go on and on but your mind of a goddess was a demanding one and soon you grew simply bored of his ministrations, therefore you pushed his head away and crossed your legs, taking away the access from him.

Mairon’s face was flushed, his eyes foggy and skin glistening from sweat and your juices dripping down his chin. He was kneeling and looking up at you mindlessly as if he would follow your every order now, no matter how self-destructive it would be.

“You’ve served me good, Mairon,” you grabbed his chin and smiled at him. “Good servant,” you emphasised.

“P-please,” he whimpered and you furrowed your brow before realising what he begged you for.

His own release.

“Was not your kin created to serve mine? I do not think our creator blessed you with such desires, Mairon. Do not be a dirty liar,” you teased him.

“Please, my Lady,” he whined, desperately.

You sighed and rolled your eyes.

“Alright, then, let me see for myself,” you smirked and pushed him down onto the floor before getting out of your armchair and straddling him like a predator would trap her prey before sinking her teeth into him.

He looked so pretty like this – both excited and turned on but also absolutely terrified of you. You could do everything to him and he had no other way but to accept it. And he knew – he knew very well – that you could be as cruel as Melkor if you only wanted to be.

Melkor’s brutality had been driven by his own whim. Yours would be driven by your revenge for all the centuries of being treated like his dog. Beaten dogs tended to bite deadly and Mairon knew.

“Do not fear me, sweet Mairon. I only want to see for myself if it is true that you have fallen and corrupted yourself so much with your devotion towards me that you have been gifted with desires of the flesh,” you smirked. “Or cursed with them,” you pointed out as your hands worked on his robes and the trousers underneath them swiftly and quickly.

You gasped and laughed when you saw how hard he was already after all those hours he had spent between your legs. He blushed even further and his cheeks were crimson red now like his clothes.

“This must hurt,” you pointed out with a sinister chuckle. “Is it the first time for you?” You asked, brushing his thighs with your fingernails, making him shiver under your touch but refusing to actually pay any attention to his hard and reddened cock with its tip swollen and twitching, leaking precum.

“No,” he confessed, nearly inaudibly.

“Interesting,” you hummed to yourself and leaned in, your face so close to his that your noses brushed. “And what were you doing usually when it happened?”

“Nothing,” Mairon confessed, his face wincing out of shame. “Nothing, my Lady. I would never… I would never dare to…” He gasped after every word, so sweetly desperate and frustrated but not brave enough to ask you to do anything in particular. He would never order you around.

“Oh, my sweet, poor Mairon… You should have come to me each time and I would have helped you,” you grinned at him although you both knew it was not true. None of you would have ever dared to commit such an act behind Melkor’s back. “Do you want me to ease you now?” You asked.

“P-please…”

You reached towards his twitching cock and grabbed his wet length as you watched with cold fascination while he struggled and writhed underneath you. A few pumps of your hand was enough to make him spill himself with a whine, bucking his hips into your hand as you kept jerking him off to make more and more of his seed spurt out. 

His body of a Maia did not need breaks but there was always a limit to how much seed any male flesh could produce. And when you felt he could absolutely do no more, you stopped and watched him catch his breath as you giggled, laying on top of him and intertwining your legs. One of your hands kept caressing his sore and softening cock gently as your other hand pulled his head closer to your chest, burying his face between your breasts and caressing his ginger hair strands.

“Please, do not go… I will be so lost without you,” Mairon looked up to meet your gaze and you smiled sadly at that.

“Do not start again,” you scolded him.

“Can you at least stay for the coronation?” He pleaded but you shook your head.

“No. I must leave tonight, as soon as possible,” you leaned in to kiss his forehead and a short while of silence occurred.

It surprised you greatly but some part of you began craving to take care of him now. As if the sinful act you had just performed with him, which stained you in a way – because what else would you call lowering yourself to pleasing a Maia? – as if it had forged an attachment between you two and bound you to him indeed like he had blasphemously suggested before.

You definitely had to leave and hide from the Valar, seek your own peace of mind. But you knew already that you would be back for your sweet Mairon sooner than both of you expected.

MASTERLIST

[klausysworld]

Triggering, lots of murder. Y/N is basically a psychopath/serial killer (I watch too much TV)

Unlikely Love

Klaus was attracted to her darkness. The cold look in her eyes when someone said something she didn't like, it was like he knew she was something else.

Following her wasn't easy, she always seemed to know if someone was looking at her for any longer than five seconds, she'd caught his gaze too many times and she never looked impressed.

Still, Klaus had the advantage of being supernatural, his speed abilities made good use in hiding from her view. Which was how he learnt that she was more a monster than he thought.

Seeing her plunge a blade straight down into a begging mans chest, her eyes finally full of life as if the kill made her thrive. He shouldn't have been as turned on as he was.

Klaus often found human killers fascinating.

As a vampire, a creature of the night or a werewolf, it was instinctual to hunt and kill but a human? Was it natural to routinely take life after life, brutally and uncaringly?

A vampire was scary because it was wired to need blood but a human like her was worse because she didn't need it, she wanted it and she liked it. Enjoyed it even.

He would watch her ritual often, she had a type. Misogynistic men usually.

"A little ironic don't you think?" She'd ask her latest victim, blade in hand ready as her fingers stroked the steel. "A woman gave you life, and now a woman will take it away." Her tone was always mocking and amused, her smile deepening as the man was splutter false apologies and promises to be better if she let him live. "I would but...gosh I'm just so emotional as a woman that I can't even control myself." She'd whisper dramatically, ignoring his change in mood and the vial curses he'd scream at her before the sharp pain would shock his body and mind into silence.

Klaus could see the peace wash over her at the quiet.

Something about seeing her splattered by blood, painted with her work, it was ethereal. He loved it.

There was a certain thrill of guessing who she'd choose next, who was worthy of her wrath.

Sometimes he would fantasise her choosing him, restraining him and stabbing him with such a delicious force that he wouldn't be able to contain his moans.

Klaus had lost his mind years ago and so seeing her like this so young was peculiar, it had taken him centuries to enjoy the kill.

When it became apparent that he actually wanted her attention, he decided to make a move and invite her to his family ball. He gave her a dress, the fabric as deep a red as the blood in his veins and tucked beneath the material was a gorgeous dagger, from him to her. Klaus knew it would make her turn up.

He appeared behind her as she entered the building, his hand finding her hip and leading her further inside.

"I'm glad you came, my love." He confessed to her, she didn't yet look up at him but he didn't mind.

"What do you want?" She asked, not amused by his efforts.

"You." He told her, finally gaining the attention from her hollow eyes.

"I don't think you understand me as well as you think you do." She murmured to him, her voice low so others were oblivious to the conversation.

"I know what you are." He whispered back, his eyes eager and full of a desire she couldn't reciprocate.

"Then you should know that I will never care for you. Never be attracted to you. You could die now and it wouldn't effect me in the slightest." She concluded and he hummed, not really bothered by the fact.

"Doesn't make me want you less, my love. But don't worry, I won't force myself on you, I wouldn't want to be tied up and killed now would I?" He grinned and she narrowed her gaze.

"Something tells me that you very much would want that." She replied and he chuckled, knowing she was absolutely right.

"Dance with me, despite your lack of emotions, you might not hate it." He enticed and took her hand, guiding her along to the main floor where others already lifted and spun each other around effortlessly.

It wasn't long before Klaus had her in similar positions, hands holding her waist and twirling her around his home until a little smile crept onto her crimson lips.

Once the night came to an end and guests began filtering out, he brought her to his art room. She ran her fingers over the tormented paintings of his mind.

Klaus was able to present death in a way that even non-broken people would find beautiful. For Y/N there was no way to explain the tranquility that his art possessed.

She wasn't bothered by the paintings of her own naked skin drenched in blood, sprawled out in ways only his demented mind could fathom.

"I can't tell if you want to have sex with me or kill me." She told him and he laughed.

"Whichever you'd prefer, my love." He grinned and she shook her head.

"You should know that I'm not unfamiliar with what you are, nor am I unfamiliar with white oak." She informed and he hummed, knowing she was as smart as he if not more so.

"Should I start crying in the corner?" He teased and her eyes rolled.

"It's late, I need to be home." She announced as she tucked his art back into a folder and turned for the door.

"Your home, or a victims?" He questioned, following her out with a smile on his face.

"My home. Unfortunately I have to sleep, otherwise I'm a little sloppy which causes too many chances."

"Of course, well at least allow me to walk you if not drive you home." He offered and she accepted, knowing arguing would be pointless and so let the hybrid drive her home and let her slip away into her own darkness.

Klaus took entertainment in following her, letting her see him every now and then as if to purposely piss her off. She'd always glance to where he was after the tip of the dagger he'd gifted her was buried inside the man on her table.

She didn't understand his attraction to her, she wasn't sure if it made him worse than her or better for at least being able to have those feelings.

Y/N hadn't had sex before, it wasn't something she was interested in. She didn't feel romantically for anybody and she barely liked anybody's company so the opportunity never came up so it was a little confusing when she had a very explicit dream of Klaus taking her roughly against the table that she usually killed people on.

It turned out that Klaus planted the dream, based off of his own fantasies and what he thought she might enjoy, he didn't realise she'd never even considered sex with anybody.

So she wasn't exactly impressed when he kissed her, hand holding the back of her neck and tongue running along her bottom lip.

She bit his tongue, hard, thinking he'd pull away but he only groaned and seemingly melted into her. Her eyes rolled and she kissed him back, tasting his blood and his tongue as her eyes remained open and looked at his closed ones. The way his lashes brushed the apples of his cheeks. When his bright blue eyes fluttered open to look at her, he was a little started to see her dead ones staring back at his. He let his lips detach from hers and slid his hand round to her cheek.

"You don't feel anything at all, do you?" He whispered and she blinked, unsure of what to say because actually, in that split second of looking at him then, she did feel something.

"I guess not." She shrugged and he hummed.

"Was it unpleasant?" He asked.

"Not particularly." She told him and he nodded.

"So we could do it again?" He questioned and she shrugged again.

"I guess."

So they did. Klaus would kiss her because he liked her, enjoyed her and it sated his own beast and Y/N would kiss him back because she wanted to see if she could feel that little spark again.

Klaus would chuckle when he saw her staring straight at him again. "You're supposed to close your eyes, my love. Here, try it." He told her and pulled her back for another kiss and this time she took his advice and closed her eyes. She felt that spark again, a flicker of warmth.

His hand brushed up along her thigh, fingers gently squeezing as his tongue wrapped around hers. Klaus knew not to push it too far and so pulled away after a few minutes and wrapped his arm around her waist and listened to her soft sigh as their gazes drifted back to the dead body on the table across from them.

"I'm hungry." She mumbled and he suppressed a laugh.

"I'll buy you dinner." He told her and she shrugged, accepting his hand and going with him to the closest restaurant.

They became an interesting pair. People assumed they were a regular couple. Even his family knew they were together but couldn't exactly pinpoint what was 'wrong' with them but they could tell something was off.

Probably wouldn't have guessed power serial killing couple. The type Love Quinn probably envisioned or Hannah Mckay.

It was definitely what Klaus envisioned anyway.

Especially when she was laid against his chest, in his bed, watching horror films with him. His fingers had been lazily tracing patterns along her thighs, his head resting against hers.

Y/N's body reacted without her really realising. Klaus only knew when the sweet scent of her arousal filled his nose. His eyes focused a little more and his tongue darted to wet his lips.

Y/N was barely paying him any mind as he turned, his body pressing to her side so that his hard on was nudging her hip and thigh. His lips kissed her neck and she let him be, assuming he was in an affectionate mood like he seemed to get after a kill. She was more interested in the film than how the hyrbid humped at her leg.

It was only when he let out a groan that she snapped back into real time and looked down to see him grinding on her with his eyes shut and mouth open.

Y/N blinked blankly at him before hesitantly patting his back, trying to offer...anything to help him as he bucked his hips. She thought that would be it but her touch seemed to encouraged him to slide his hand up between her legs, his fingers stroking over the fabric of her panties beneath the skirt he had bought her.

That was when she grabbed him, his cock specifically and not very kindly.

"Ah- Fuck!" He yelled and grabbed her throat roughly, pining her down as he shoved her hand off him and held himself between the legs, a breath of pain leaving his lips. "What on earth was that for?" He growled at her and she glared, in a second he felt a sharp stab in his side and looked down to see the dagger lodged inside him. His rage built as he stared back at her, he wanted to hurt her but there was this little flicker in her eyes. She didn't hurt him out of enjoyment, she did in defense.

He let go of her neck and moved to lay back down, letting her pull the blade out of him with a grunt as she slipped it back away out of sight. He wrapped his arm back around her and pulled her back to his side.

"Next time, just say you don't like it." He muttered and she scoffed.

"Why did you ever think that I would?" She snapped and he rolled his eyes.

"Sweetheart, I wouldn't have tried to touch your pretty little cunt if I couldn't smell her begging for me." He told her and her face flushed as she frowned and reached her hand down, touching herself with confusion and looking at the wetness that coated her fingers. Klaus's eyes darted down to see the way they glistened, his heart thumping in his chest as he hesitantly lowered his head to lick them clean.

An inaudible sound left Y/N when he did so and he felt her fingers push further into his mouth, encouraging him to suck.

Slowly he pulled off her hand and looked up at her eyes. For once they weren't completely dead. She finally kissed him first.

He pulled her onto his lap, giving her the advantage she needed and letting her be on top. But it wouldn't be enough. He realised that when her hands clutched his wrists tightly, nails dug into his skin until he could smell his own blood.

"Wait..." He mumbled and pulled his hands away, reaching down and unbuckling his belt, pulling it off and pushing the leather into her hands before holding his wrists together. She glanced between his wrists, the belt and his eyes a few times before slowly tightening the belt around them, pulling it so that he couldn't move them at all.

He let her guide his arms over his head and to the headboard, keeping them there as she lifted her shirt over her head and unclasped her bra.

His jaw ticked at the sight of her firm breasts on display but he had no time to appreciate them as she removed her skirt and underwear, her soft pussy finally close to him. His heart pounded but he stayed silent as she pulled his henley off and tugged his jeans down alongside his boxers.

She didn’t hardly look at his cock, not that interested in the sight of it.

Instead she just got herself on top of him like she had in the dream he'd given her and sunk down onto him. Klaus groaned loudly whilst her face twisted in discomfort and uncertainty. She sat on him quietly for a moment before he came to and looked down.

"It's okay, just move your hips a little bit to start." He told her, voice softer then she'd heard it.

Her body moved like he'd suggested, her cunt getting the friction it had secretly desired for the longest time making her moan involuntarily. Klaus grinned, watching her get the hang of it and rock her hips until her eyes were fluttering and her back was arching.

"You like that, my love?" He whispered and she nodded, her nipples brushing his bare chest as she bounced on his lap. "I want to touch you." He murmured, his fingers twitching but her head shook.

"No." She told him firmly and he moaned quietly at her tone and obeyed, adjusting his arms up above his head. There was something about her then, feeling her pussy squeezing so good and dripping so much as her tits pushed against him and her head was back. She was finally feeling something really good. Whether it was emotional or just physical, she still loved the feel of it and of him.

So they did it again, and again and again. All the time.

Klaus was convinced he'd died and gone to heaven. Being able to kill people with approval, to have someone as crazy as he was and have mind-blowing sex 24/7? He'd only wished he'd found her sooner.

Klaus started finding more people for her to kill, wanted to see her all bloody so he could lick it off her as he rutted his hips into her from behind.

The hybrid had developed intense feelings for Y/N, he cared for her truly. He started really loving her and showing it and she showed him similar things back.

They went on dates, they celebrated each other's birthdays and their one year anniversary. She started to know him, give him things, tokens of appreciation.

She touched him, not always sexually but softly and gently as if she cared for him too.

But they weren't the same. Klaus wasn't evil from young, she was. He had deep routed feelings, she didn't.

He should have thought of that some more before falling in love.

Because when it came down to him or her, a dagger against her heart and the white oak against his...he loved her too much to kill her first.

[bunnybird-afk]

Fun Little Merlinverse Language Headcanons

Ok, so we know most of our Merlins are old af, and that most of them have the patience of saints so they usually don't get genuinely pissed off. But could you imagine how funny it would be if they started cussing in 'old' languages when they do snap? Except the languages they use are just normal languages irl.

Like I can so picture Sena seething at someone in Hindi but still keeping composed, only to snap and absolutely drag them in Tamil (like it is a good thing no one understands him otherwise they would not be able to look him in the eye afterwards). Or if he wants to pull the Divine Judgment card in more serious/formal moments he starts calmly lecturing them in Sanskrit putting every ounce of his godly authority behind each word (I think in that moment everyone would understand exactly what he's saying despite not being able to identify individual words).

Meanwhile Celestino (@meepinmeat) just takes a deep breath before slowly but purposefully reading someone to filth in old Latin. People might not understand the words, but they definitely get the gist when they can feel static crackling through the air due to the Archon's rage. ("Well, mark me down as scared and horny"- Valen, probably.)

And imagine everyone's surprise when soft-spoken little Pirin (@yohohonabottle) goes from irritable bat chattering to absolutely intense Slavic cussing, looking absolutely ready to curse someone's entire bloodline as he yells at them in Bulgarian. (Considering how terrifying Pirin's curses actually are, I cannot blame Val, Sinbad and Soren for being terrified of their little bat in that moment.)

As for Magister Starhawk (@fujimomozane), this man looks like he slays so hard. So I can't help but picture him being calm and collected before muttering the most horrendously accurate and specific insults possible under his breath in Ukrainian. (Though Chippy and Hammie were not expecting the magister to very vehemently tell a table to have a stroke after he stubbed his toe.) (Ps, please correct me on this one if I'm wrong. I've heard a friend explain it once irl and I thought it was really funny and in character for Starhawk.)

Meanwhile Korin and Damian are hiding behind Molpe (@mcnana) as she cusses someone out in Spanish for insulting her boys. Like they appreciate the gesture, but they are also absolutely shook considering that she's normally very sweet and soft-spoken. (Imagining Korin covering Damian's ears for this one. Like he doesn't know what's being said, but from Molpe's tone he knows a child probably shouldn't be hearing it.)

Please reblog this with your own Merlins! I'd love to hear your takes. (Especially @magister-violyste and @msbiaxalblanc, since Violyste is fairly young by Merlin standards, and Bellarose is fairly aloof and put-together. Also, Magister Zelda (@fgfirenation) clearly has no problem cussing, but I'd love to hear your take on her going completely feral on someone.)

[crow2222]

Darry x Paul headcanons

They're in my head and I'm gonna make everyone aware of this. Mostly fluff, warning for an eating disorder.

Darry's ticklish. Paul knows exactly where, and would tickle him out of nowhere which pisses Darry off. PAUL on the other hand, isn't at all and Darry hates this fact.

When Darry had custody of his brothers, he'd always be up and early first, but once they grew up and Darry had time to finally slow down, Paul would wake up first and make him breakfast and lunch if he had enough time. Darry is bashful about it everytime.

They have two rings each, one lavish bought by Paul, which are rarely worn, and one bought by each other in the early stages of their relationship, holding much more sentimental value and worn almost daily.

I don't think they'd be in lavender relationships. Darry wouldn't want to marry a woman he doesn't love that way, and Paul simply doesn't bother. Maybe they try to go on dates here and there but oh boy they never work out.

Paul likes leaving his clothes or straight up buying new clothes for Darry (cough purple madras shirt) (cough lettermans jacket like in white knight) Darry felt guilty about it at first but once Paul realised he needed more working shirts than fancy dress shirts, he started being much more glad to find new shirts without holes to work in.

Olive theory but with tomatos. "You like ketchup but not tomatoes?" "Darry I'm not explaining myself again."

Darry likes when Paul runs his fingers through his hair, and when he rests his chin on his head too. #darrywouldloveweightedblankets but it's okay he has Paul for that.

Once Soda and Pony caught onto what they are, they were mostly confused as to why it was Paul.

They extensively plan holidays abroad but only manage to carry out their plan of a roadtrip across America. Paul swears he'll bring Darry to Europe one day.

Paul got really worried when he noticed Darry's small eating habits, which he'd developed when he was really low on money back when he was taking care of his brothers. Paul tried his best to help, but eventually Darry did gain more an appetite in his own time. (He didn't want to tell Paul he was being the opposite of helpful)

Absolutely love looking back on football team photos, and laughing about how young they really were when they first got together and fell out.

Oh yeah they fell out at some point. Years later, both better and healthier to be in a relationship, they got together again.

When asleep in the same bed, they're moving constantly to find more comfortable positions, but when they're cuddling, dead still.

Back when they were in school, Darry would write about Paul, and Paul would draw Darry. I'm talking sketchbook filled to the brim of drawings of Darry, some from memory, some quick sketches 'in the moment' and the occasional rare painting of when Darry would model for him. Darry mostly wrote poems, but sometimes he'd just write memories with great detail so he'd never forget. Years later they also look back at these, too embarrassed to show each other (They both know where their sketchbook/notebook and have looked through them.)

Absolutely love parties, no matter how boring they might be - like a cousins baby shower that's just cake. If it's called a party, they're showing up to catch up with old friends and cause general havoc together.

Ponyboy gets them those Christmas decorations with two male cardinals (he's a bit of a bird nerd) and they don't understand whenever he buys them yet another bird decoration. One Christmas he tells them, and they become much more cherished.

Darry's handwriting is HORRIBLE and Paul writes in any cards they send out.

Paul got Darry a dog once he started talking about adopting a kid, jealous of fathers he'd see in town with kids attached to their hips. He thought he'd never want kids after taking care of his brothers, but he sure enough, he grew up and wanted a junior of his own!

[fanficsbysteve]

Authors Note: Sometimes I’m just scrolling through Tumblr and see some of all you amazing people with your head cannons and I feel a need to write a whole ass fic from it. Today’s sponsor was a post by @talktonytome and an Anon that was sent to them so I had to write something. So, thank you for this idea and hopefully Cia and their anon who sent it to them enjoy this.

Rating: G

W/C: 3680

***

                Tommy got out of his truck; he had been going to this coffee shop every day for the past four weeks since he ended things with Evan. He hadn’t wanted to end things, but he had seen a future where Evan hurt him badly. And Evan wouldn’t have meant to do it, but Tommy couldn’t take that chance. He had been hurt so many times in the past that this would have been the last time he let himself fall in love with anyone. He would just remain a loveless, lonely, bitter old gay. He had seen many of those in his life so what was one more?

                He walked up to the counter; Del was working today. Their nametag said ‘Adelaide’ out of some requirement by their boss, but he knew better than to call them that. He had once and the death glare that they had given him made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end and a full body shiver ran through him, “Afternoon Del,” Tommy greeted them. Their pink hair was styled similar to Lori Petty and Tommy really liked it, “Nice hair today. New hair stylist?”

                “Hey Tommy!” Del’s exuberant voice broke the silence of the shop, “You know I do all my own styling. But I did decide to that that pixie cut you showed me. You think it looks good? Its giving Manic Pixie.”

                “If I didn’t think it looked good, do you think I would have given you the suggestion? I might not be the best flaming homosexual, but I do know how to tell a person what will look good on them,” Tommy joked. He only got this way with Del. They just made him feel comfortable to be himself. And he appreciated them for it.

                Del smiled their award-winning smile at Tommy, “So will it be the usual today?”

                “You know it,” Tommy replied back. He eyed up the pastry cabinet, “That lemon loaf also looks good. You make it fresh today?”

                “Always,” Del said as they started to make Tommy’s drink.

                “Throw on that lemon loaf as well,” Tommy replied, “I’m having a bit of a sweet tooth moment today.”

                “You know I watch you drinking this coffee every time you come in here,” Del said as they made the drink, “And everyday I swear I watch you shudder each time you take a sip.”

                “Its just the first thing I usually have in my body each day,” Tommy lied through his teeth. He was embarrassed to say why he was always drinking a drink that didn’t make him happy. Hell, it made him sadder than anything, and on top of all that, it was an abomination that shouldn’t exist, but he still made himself drink it, “Its not as bad as you might think.”

                “I’ve made this drink for myself Tommy,” Del made a face as they put it down on the counter, “And it is an abomination to the world of coffee and should never exist in the first place.”

                “I’ve heard of drinks that shouldn’t exist, this is nowhere near as bad,” Tommy replied, “Have you heard of a Wayne Gretzky?”

                A look of confusion fell over Del’s face as they grabbed a slice of lemon loaf for Tommy, “Can’t say that I have. Dare I ask?”

                Tommy smiled, “It’s from Canada. Wayne Gretzky was number 99 on all teams he played for, so you go to a Tim Hortons and ask for the Wayne Gretzky,” He paused for emphasis, “And they give you a regular coffee with 9 sugars and 9 creams.”

                The look of absolute horror on Del’s face was worth telling that story. He had never personally tried it, but he had met some Canadians in the past. They had some weird ways of doing coffee up north, “That is the most horrifying thing I have ever heard of,” Del sounded like they wanted to vomit, “Why would someone do that? Do they even have space for coffee after that?”

                “I have no idea,” Tommy paid for his coffee and loaf, “But I don’t want to find out. Thanks for this Del. You’re the best.”

                “I’ll keep an eye out for that shudder,” Del called out after Tommy as he walked away. Del had pulled out their phone, and they were rapidly texting someone. Del always did that at the moment that there wasn’t a person at the counter. Working in a coffee shop like this one, they didn’t get much to do unless someone actually came in.

                Tommy shook his head and walked towards a table in the corner. He could people watch from there and wallow in all of his feelings while still knowing what was going on around him. When he sat down he steeled himself before taking a sip of his drink, and on cue, the full body shuddering from how horrible it was took him over. But after the shudder there was a sense of melancholy, a deeper sadness as he continued this ritual every day for the past weeks. This was the coffee that Evan had gotten him that fateful day when they decided that they could make a relationship work. Tommy had given him a second chance and they started the best 6 months of his entire life. Nothing had compared to it.

                Tommy felt his face starting to get a bit sadder as he sipped and shuddered. He couldn’t help himself. He didn’t know why he tortured himself like this either. It was because he deserved to have this pain for what he did to Evan. Sip, shudder, repeat. Occasionally he took a bit of the lemon loaf. It was good. Cut the horrifying flavour of the coffee.

                He occasionally heard the bell jingle as someone came into the shop to get a coffee and leave. Few people stayed inside to enjoy the atmosphere. It was a nice kitschy little shop, bit of a hodge podge of everything and nothing all at once. Imagine your grandmother’s house, but if it was pastel coloured. That was this coffee shop. They did good coffee and baked goods. Tommy wasn’t certain why, but he heard the bell jingle for the door, and he looked up at this one. He had been ignoring most of them but something in his soul made him look up, and there he was. Evan Buckley. In the flesh. Tommy felt a panic rise up in his body. Evan was here. They hadn’t seen or heard from each other in four weeks and here he was. He looked as amazing as he always did. Tommy couldn’t help but smile, remembering the times that he and Evan had just sat together and looked at each other. He wished he could go back to that. But he couldn’t risk it. He wasn’t the last boyfriend. He was never the last boyfriend. Always the first.

                Tommy honestly thought that he was cursed. He had done something to someone, and they had placed a curse upon him. Yes, he had made fun of Evan for believing in the Billy Boils curse, but this one on him had substantial lived proof behind it. And Tommy had even asked Billy to break his curse on Evan, so it wasn’t like he didn’t believe in curses. Just the Billy Boils one was ridiculous. Tommy however was doomed to always be the first boyfriend for newly out people, gay, bisexual, pansexual, and everything in between. But never the last. Why would anyone want to stay with a broken mess like Tommy? He had horrible nightmares that would wake himself and anyone staying with him up. Flashbacks to his time in Iraq, flashbacks to his childhood with an abusive father and a dead mother. Flashbacks to the pain he had caused so many people. And he deserved it all.

                Evan went up to the counter and placed his order, “You are the second person to order that drink today,” Del said aloud, “I’ve tried it and its honestly the most horrifying thing I’ve ever drank. But you do you.”

                “Second person?” Evan asked. Tommy prayed to anyone who was listening to please let Del keep his being there secret. Allah, Yahweh, God, Jesus, Jebus, Shiva, Anything. Anyone. Please let them keep him a secret. He didn’t want Evan to know he was there.

                Del motioned over towards where Tommy was sitting, FUCK, he swore loudly in his head. Guess Del didn’t get the hints over the weeks. Evan smiled and waved at Tommy. Tommy put on a smile and waved back. He didn’t want to have to do this. Didn’t want to have to explain why. Why was something even hey didn’t fully know. Please don’t let him come over this way.

                As if the gods he had been praying to were mocking him, Evan brought his coffee over to the table that Tommy was sitting at and sat down, “Hey Tommy,” Tommy noticed that Evan was forcing a smile. It definitely didn’t make it up to his eyes. They had a deep sadness about them. It hurt Tommy’s soul knowing that he was the cause of that.

“Hello Evan,” Tommy replied. He quickly corrected himself, trying to distance himself from the name that only he had been allowed to call him by everyone he knew. Maddie was the only other person who called him Evan in LA, “I mean Buck. Hello Buck.”

Evan flinched slightly at the name change, after a brief glimmer of hope had crept into his face, “You can still call me Evan. I don’t mind.”

“I’m nothing special so I’ll just call you what everyone else does,” Tommy replied, “How have you been?”

“Baking lots,” Evan admitted. Tommy noticed a sense of longing when Evan looked at him. He knew he had the same look on his face. He just had to keep his resolve, but it was getting harder to maintain. It was easier when they weren’t talking or seeing each other. He hadn’t even heard from Howie, Eddie, or Hen in the past four weeks. He wasn’t the best of friends with any of them by any long shot, but they had sporadic messaging since the Cruise Ship rescue, then nothing, “Working whenever I can. Keeping my mind busy. Been coming here because Del makes an amazing cup of coffee.”

“I gather by Del’s comment that you still drink that abomination of a beverage?” Tommy chuckled, “They told me that they tried it once and nearly died.”

“Seems like I’m not the only one who drinks it,” Evan raised an eyebrow and looked at Tommys cup.

“Yes well,” Tommy took a sip, shuddered, but felt a little memory of their first time together. Evan asking him to give him a second chance, being asked to a wedding he didn’t even make it to. Just a good memory associated with really bad coffee, “I figured I would try it after that first time you got it for me. Its…. growing on me.”

Tommy knew Evan’s facial expressions quite well over the six months of their relationship. What was on his face now was his ‘I know you are lying’ face, “So why haven’t I seen you around here lately?” Evan asked. He looked like he genuinely wanted an answer. Tommy wasn’t certain if he could tell Evan the truth. He had been coming here every day, drinking this disgusting coffee just so he could remember the first really happy memory they had together. It was all he had somedays after a particularly grueling day at work, “I know because this place is close to my loft, so I come here whenever I feel like going out for a coffee.”

“I just like it here,” Tommy lied through his teeth again. He was here because secretly, deep down, he wanted Evan to come in while he was here. He hadn’t planned on it today. But he was secretly hoping for him to make an appearance while he was here so he could see him again. Look at his silly unkept curls, his perfect smile, even his little port wine stain birthmark over his eye that he liked to kiss every night before they went to bed, “As you said, Del makes a great cup of coffee.”

“And it had nothing to do with my loft being so close?” Evan pushed into Tommy a little bit with that. This man was trying to get him to admit that he wanted to run into him. And Tommy just wanted to admit that he did.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Tommy said, his voice raising at the end. If Evan remembered anything from their relationship, he would have heard Tommy’s lying voice. He wasn’t exactly subtle about it. Its why he sucked at Poker, “I just like the ambience.”

“Mmmhhhmmmm,” Evan replied. Tommy knew he was caught in the lie. Whether Evan called him out on it was another story, “Well since I have you here. We can have a conversation.”

FUCK, Tommy thought again. This was not how he had wanted today to go.

“Its been four weeks,” Evan said, “And during those four weeks I’ve had a bit of time to think. Yes, I baked and worked but I also did a lot of thinking. And I realized something,” Tommy was bracing himself for an admission of him finding someone else. He would be happy for Evan if that was the case. Its all he wanted for Evan. That he is happy. It would hurt him in ways that he couldn’t imagine, but he wanted Evan to be happy, “It also took Hen and Eddie doing various things over the past weeks to make me realize something, and a very heartfelt talk with Bobby last night to help me see.”

“And that was?” Tommy said. He was curious what all Hen and Eddie had done but it wasn’t his business anymore.

“That I’m still in love with you,” Evan said matter of factly. Tommy choked on his coffee as he had been bringing it up to take a sip of it.

“I’m sorry,” Tommy said, “What was that?”

“Well over the past four weeks, I would bake something whenever I had the urge to talk to you, or message you. Chimney is incredibly pleased with these results as he gets baked goods on a regular basis. Maddie not so much. She’s pregnant by the way,” Evan added on at the end, “But what they made me realize is that I was always thinking about you. And wanting to talk to you. But my brain was making me do something different instead of being an adult about it and just calling you. Hen and Eddie playing keep away with my phone once almost didn’t go well for Eddie,” Evan laughed at that, “I was ready to maim his ankle again with that.”

Tommy had the first genuine laugh he had allowed himself to have in the time since he broke up with Evan, “I bet you would have.”

“I had murder in my eyes that day,” Evan joked, “But it made me realize that I still felt something for you. It took a talk with Bobby last night to make me realize what it was. I hadn’t admitted to myself my feelings I had for others before. Not since Abby,” Evan looked up at Tommy. Tommy guessed he was trying to gauge his reaction, “Anyways Bobby talked to me and asked me what I really felt. I had talked with Maddie and Josh about how things went with us at the time, and I was reluctant to say Love. I saw a future with you. I just didn’t know what I was feeling. Was it love? Well Bobby set me straight in a matter of speaking.”

Tommy knows that he felt love for Evan. He realized it that day in the cemetery when Evan was talking about family and how they are this long dead cowboys posse. Something clicked with him. It did scare him a bit. But then when Evan started talking about how much he admired him and how transformative this relationship was, that’s when things became real for him. And how his fear broke him, “I love you too,” Tommy said meekly, “Since that day in the cemetery.”

It was Evan’s turn to look up shocked, “Really?” He sounded excited, “Why did you end things if you felt that way?”

“I have scars that you haven’t seen,” Tommy replied, “I have felt this way before with so many people, and each time I admitted that to myself, then that person decided that they wanted someone else,” Tommy felt embarrassed to say it, “It was easier for me to end things because if I did then I figured it would hurt less than if you did in the future when you realized that I wasn’t what you wanted,” It sounded stupid when he was saying it out loud, but say it out loud was what Tommy did, “It still hurts but it was my own fault for letting my fear and cowardice get to me.”

“I don’t claim to be the most knowledgeable in this,” Evan said, “But I know what I want in my life. And what I want is you. Since the day you walked out there has been a Tommy sized hole in my heart. I did so many different things to try and refill it, but it never felt the same. So,” Evan reached a hand across to Tommy, “If it is ok with you, I would like to try again if you would let me. You make my world feel complete.”

Tommy didn’t know what to feel. This was different from every other time someone had done this to him. He couldn’t remember a time when someone had actually said they loved him. He was confused, “You want to try again. After what I said to you and just left?”

“Call me an idiot,” Evan said, “Eddie calls me one all the time. Hell, he even called me one when I called you to meet here to ask for that second chance all those months ago. And I know I’m an idiot. An idiot who is in love with you even though you left me behind,” Evan held Tommy’s hand, “and it shouldn’t be me who asks for a second chance but I’ve never fought for what I wanted and I don’t want to waste anymore time waiting and pining, Los Angeles may run out of flour before that happens. So, would you take me back? Be my boyfriend again? We can go slower if that’s what you need.”

“Just take him back you moron so I don’t have to see your sulking ass in here everyday,” a voice yelled from the counter. Del had decided to make their opinion known.

Tommy laughed a little at Del’s outburst. They really had been seeing Tommy in here everyday, “One condition,” Tommy said.

“Conditions?” Evan said, “I’ll entertain one, but you are pushing it Mr Breaks Up With The Man He Loves.”

Tommy shook his head, “My one condition to paraphrase you,” Tommy said, “Why be apart when we can be together. I love you, you idiot. So, move in with me. I have a house with a yard, a car lift, and a garage with a sweet Muay Thai set up, which might I add, we have not taught you. I’m sure I can make room for all your stuff and more.”

Evan smiled the largest smile he could at those words, “That is very good paraphrasing,” Evan’s face couldn’t contain the glee he was feeling, “I might need your kitchen to be renovated a bit, but we can discuss that at another time. But if you’ll have me, I would love to move in with you.”

“Then it’s settled,” Tommy smiled wider than he had in weeks.

“I have to call Maddie,” Evan said.

“Did she know you were coming?” Tommy said.

“Del texted me when you got here today,” Evan waved over at them, “Your downer attitude was affecting business apparently.”

“I did not say that!” Del called out defensive. They really had amazing hearing being able to hear the entire conversation from their counter.

“I’m paraphrasing,” Evan called back, “But yes. Del let me know. Maddie said the universe would bring me the right person. I guess the universe did.”

Tommy smiled at Evan. It was weirdly surreal for them to just come back together again after having been apart for four weeks. It was the magic of this café, Del’s prodding, or this nasty coffee, but they were together again. No tears. At least not in public. Tommy had some dignity left in him. He would however probably end up crying out of happiness the moment he got into his truck.

“So,” Evan said, “Is my handsome boyfriend going to take me to see my future home?”

“I would love to,” Tommy replied. He stood up from the table. He put his plate and cup on the dirty dish tray and head out the door, not before wishing Del a great day, and took Evan into his truck, “So what’s this about kitchen renovations?

***

Authors Note: Tada!!! Another successful story. I mostly wrote this magically before I went to bed one night, and then throughout the course of my day at work the next day on my iPhone (Microsoft OneDrive FTW). I also apologize if some of the ideas seem disjointed. I'm not good at planning things out and I tend to just write by the seat of my pants. And I just didn’t want to have them being super angsty and mopey. I wanted to have them being mature adults about the whole situation. So hopefully everyone enjoyed this, leave me a comment and a like and I’ll see you on my next story.