#[AGGRESSIVELY RATTLING MY FRIENDS' OCS AT YOU] I LOVE THEM. I LOVE THEM! I LOVE THEM

[blujayonthewing]

friend: do you want to tell me a little about what each of the ornaments on your christmas card means?

me breaking through the wall like the koolaid man: YES

[the-blind-geisha]

im gonna ask this on anon cuz of shy. but... in your opinion or anybodys what is the diff between stolen/inspired? I'm half worried that i might accidentally write something that'll seem stolen from others if not careful. 😅

This isn't to scare anybody off. I just want to offer what insight I can for folks. ♥

Sadly, anon, when it comes to fandom content especially, people do get a bit...aggressive. lol I'm not gonna sit here and say 'what? who? me?? I WOULD NEVER!' Because like I said before: I HAVE been that way. It's been a good 10 or so years since I have, but your 30s tend to chill you out... It did me anyways, can't speak for others. lol

Do know that if anybody acts that way, it's mostly insecurity and or worry their inboxes won't be filled with love and want for more of their content. It's not something you should be ashamed of. Your writing was just so good it rattled them. How they act is not on you and never will be on you. I speak, again, from a place of knowing from being that way and being on the receiving end of it.

Being inspirited by someone: If someone or something inspires you to do something new or unusual, they make you want to do it. If someone or something inspires you, they give you new ideas and a strong feeling of enthusiasm.

So, basically, I've had people tell me they are driven to want to write their own Demiurge stuff thanks to my writings. And dang man, am I beyond ecstatic when I read that.

Now, if they write anything about a Supreme Being having been Isekaied with Ainz and the NPCs, and Demiurge is in love with them? That's inspired and also, to add to the point, a token love story that's often used in the fandom. I cannot take credit for this idea, nor can I claim anybody was inspired by me in particular to write it.

Nobody can who has done this formula layout.

It's basically a layout that's easy enough for first time writers to get their shoes wet in Overlord in my humblest opinion. Same for if they are suddenly in a relationship with Ulbert and then Demiurge merges that idea into the character in question.

If their OC is an angel? Same thing. I cannot take credit for that thought. Besides, as I told a friend: angel/demon relationships are as cliché as you can get. And I LOVE that cliché. I know I'm not alone there. ♥

I am sure there are a lot of people who claim that if you write ideas closely in relation to theirs, you're stealing somehow. If you use the same tropes, tags, ect. But no. As much as those people want to believe that, it's not the case.

So let's move onto my next part.

Stealing: When you take WORD FOR WORD someone else's story or are obviously just coloring on top of someone else's hard work. That the layout has only a slight tweak, basically, and I'll explain.

Now, I've mentioned these things on and off before, but I'll use them as reference again.

A long time ago, I was RPing an erotic story with a friend regarding her character being sold into a harem with a bunch of guys in another fandom who were basically shut-ins. Each new female had to be auctioned between these shut-ins and the highest bidder would get the female.

Now, I wrote a snippet (which I still have and is very much storaged on my DA) where the characters by the name of Thunderhawk and Sojourner were bidding heatedly for her character. The final, winning bid was 200,000. Against my friend's character's will, she was to be pushed off and stripped of her clothing as these two anthro snow leopard like lady twins were to bring the winner, Thunderhawk, his prize. The image I had drawn that used to be up was her character naked with her arms bound behind her back.

It was going to be a graphic novel, but my interests in the fandom was dwindling, and it didn't happen.

Now, I had someone comment on one of my art pieces saying 'oh that Rule 34 website has something up in the works called Spectre's Haven--you might be interested in it'.

And I went to read the pages up and...

The characters are all shut-ins (which is a given with the material we were both writing from, so that's no big), but then you had 2 obvious off screen characters asking for 'what was the starting bid' and having the woman bound naked before the men, going into bidding wars for the women they want for their harems... Sojourner and Thunderhawk were seen bidding heatedly side-by-side. Spectre, however, came out the victor....for 200,000. lol

The woman they got was nervous to be in the harem just like my friend's character was, but was told that it was not so bad. After there was nothing for them to 'grab from' where my snippets and stuff was concerned, it just went into pure on porn.

When I talked to the writer about it nicely and they had this to say to tl;dr it: 'yeah, I had the harem idea in my head for awhile now, read your stuff. Loved it btw, and I decided to make a reference to it as that's what I do. Thunderhawk almost won the bidding war but I decided last minute to make it Spectre instead. We didn't think it was necessary to put in credits, since it was obvious.'

Keep in mind: this is from a website that, while the comic was free, they still get ad revenue on their site. They got money from my work and never bothered to credit the original source because there was 'no point'. lol

It hurt but, I didn't bother to fight it.

Now, again, it's fine to have the same idea as me. But when stuff starts to align really closely like that? It's...alarming. You can easily do a harem idea without a bidding war. There's MANY ways to do that. But they just used mine because it was easier, I suppose. I dunno. They could have even used other characters that they grabbed from. There was like six total I used and that they were referencing too. I still feel there was other ways to do their comic. And besides, if you're going to reference me and admit to that when you work on a mature website that gets money for your work...? CREDIT me.

They had a far bigger follower base, and here I am getting nothing for it other than I loved the artist they had doing the comic, so I guess my idea was in their story and in the art I loved... ^^"

And the winning bid could have been anything. They said it was obvious nobody noticed the wink and nod at my stuff but uh...no. lol My friends/readers saw it and actually got madder than me at it. xD; I told them not to do a thing. As long as my friend's character wasn't used, I wouldn't be upset.

And to be honest? As long as someone takes something of mine like this again but does it for free? I really can't be that upset. Is it disrespectful? Sure. But I won't be heated about it if money isn't obtained from my ideas.

Now, fast-forward to 2020 where I wrote/illustrated to page one of Dancing with the Devil, my erotic/non-con Demiurge/OC comic, and then later the reader insert, Devil's Contract.

I was conversing with somebody at the time who instantly threw down the link to their story saying how similarly it sounded to their fic. Keep in mind, I never read fanfics in any fandom. My ADHD won't allow me to focus on someone else's works I am not close to let alone my own writing. (When it came to their story, I kudos it in a fit of mercy since they kept reblogging 'pity me posts' about their writings.)

As you can guess, we had some similar themes going on: non-con, bad BDSM etiquette, calling Demiurge 'Master', a human character he abuses but turns to love, the works.

But that's it, though. We had similar THEMES. Not similar deliveries.

If you read either of our fics, it's basically night and day.

However, this caused her to be furious and think I was stealing from her. Especially when my kudos, bookmarks, and comments took off. She would vent read my comments and obviously stay on top of my stats more than me, because she's that kinda way, I guess. Noticing that people not in Overlord were reading/loving my story was making her irate, as she had already damaged her reputation in the fandom twice before. She hated she couldn't get that sort of fanbase, so she started to falsify her own through dummies and anons when she 'rebuilt her fic'. (I'll leave this here, because it doesn't need to go beyond this.)

Now, another friend of mine is nervous to write her own version of something like this given the prior hostility in the fandom where this person was concerned. I told her in DMs "I'll support the hell out of your fic. Whether you post it publicly or just snippets to me in private".

And that's the truth.

I don't care if other people write something with similar themes to me. I really don't, and others shouldn't either. It means the world gets two cakes with (hopefully) different deliveries.

Now, if someone were to take some of my snippets here and replace the blank reader with a character of their own choosing? That's theft.

Please, don't ever do that to anybody. lol

If you want to do that, because you want to use it as a backbone for your fic? Ask first and then credit the person. Even if you requested the snippet in question: the person wrote your idea. You still deserve to give that person full credit for the thought they put down for you. ♥

But, I am only one person in a sea of many. And to be honest? As long as you're not making money off of my stuff, then good. I just don't want my ideas being sold is all.

Otherwise, it's our playground, and fanfiction I feel is a great way to learn where to go. ♥

I honestly and truly hope nobody ever feels scared to write to, post their writings.

I hate that some places have become like a warzone, but you can always do your best to curate your experiences. ♥

And, again, while I am ADHD and have a hard time reading, if you link me to your story and ask for my opinion, I'll be happy to read it. ♥ You know I will.

[detroitbydark]

Characters: Hound/OC

Summary: when life (or Thire) gets him traffic duty, Hound makes the most of it.

Warnings: None

A/N: I shouldn’t be starting a new work. I really shouldn’t. I also shouldn’t have decided to write a oneshot, talked to @skdubbs and have four chapters plotted out.

This does take place in the Fox and Mouse verse (around chapter 6 if I remeber correctly).

————

“From Kessel to Kijimi, this is Nuna Skii flying you through the dark hours of the night. I’d like to give a shout to-.”

Hound hunches forward over the handle bars to the GAR issued speeder. Traffic Ops. Kriff.

It would teach him to make a bet with Thire. Then again, how was he to know that the Commander actually had it in him to bag the cute little secretary that took up guard duty outside of his office door.

Obviously not Hound.

The ARF Sargent sighs before turning the radio up. He’d rather be back in his barracks with his massiff at his feet than clocking for speeders and traffic violations. It wasn’t that it was below him it was just… well it was below him. He didn’t go through recon school to be looking for our of date tags.

At least he got to listen to his favorite radio show.

“-and more of that sweet jizz music coming from Dantooine as a special favor to my boys in the 332nd”

Nuna Skii’s show on Independent Republic Radio was a favorite of many a trooper. Overnights were osik but the sweet smoky sound of her voice and the frequent shoutouts - often laced with innuendo - were definitely one way to pass the time. And if her voice was stored in the spank banks of half the troopers in the GAR? Well, that was just an added bonus to her show.

“Just you, me and an empty sky lane tonight, eh Nuna?” He asks the radio.

“How about we take another deep dive into an absolutely delicious track, yeah?”

“You could sell me some ocean front property on Tatooine and I'd pay top dollar. Hit me with it, babygirl.”

He only does a handful of stops and doesn’t write a single ticket for the next six hours.

———

She was so karking tired. Like, tired was an understatement. Half-dead might be more correct. She needed atomic grade caf or a bed to pass out in immediately. Glancing at the near stalled traffic in front of her, Nuna can’t help but think she wasn’t going to get either anytime soon.

The joys of working nights.

She really did love her job. To be a young holoradio jockey and have a spot on any station on Coruscant was pretty damn amazing but to have it on IRR? probably the single coolest station in the core worlds? It was a dream come true. Most of the time.

A yawn escapes her lips and her speeder rattles ominously underneath her.

“Oh- no, no, no.” She mutters looking down at her gauges. Warning lights flash brightly. She’d just gotten the kriffing thing out of the shop last week. They were supposed to have fixed the thrusters. The bike leans to the right and Nuna feels the tell tale swoop in her stomach from a sudden drop in altitude. It wasn’t much more than a few feet but if it was anything like it was the week before she needed a landing platform. And fast.

The early morning light bounces off the transparisteel buildings around her as she tries to find the nearest safe bet. Her speeder bike coughs once and jerks again, jostling her helmeted head. She sucks in a sharp breath as it pulls hard, dragging her from the skylane and into open air. It’s a struggle to keep the thing upright as she tries to guide it in for a landing on the nearest platform. Lights flash in her rear view.

“Really? Really?!” She hisses to herself as her muscles strain to keep the bike on course.

She manages to land the malfunctioning speeder, the ungainly pile of scrap plopping down with all the grace of a pregnant nerf.

The Coruscant Guard bike, all sleek lines, gunmetal grey and cherry red accents lands feet behind her.

Hers makes one last wheeze and cuts off. The good thing is, she’s wide awake now. No caf needed.

“Ma’am?”

Nuna turns to see the visage of snarling maw cocking it’s head in her direction.

“You ok?”

She swallows hard. It was a known fact within her small circle of friends that Nuna Skii - the real Nuna Skii not the sex kitten holojockey- was absolute mush for a guys in uniform and the one stepping closer was definitely one that would make her heart pump harder if it weren’t already for the adrenaline of a near death experience. If there was a name for kink involving men in helmets Nuna had it.

“I- uh- yeah” she takes a deep breath because now was not the place and certainly not the time, “I’m good”

The trooper's head cocks the opposite direction as he points toward her handlebars. “You know you're ok to let those go now, right?”

A nervous laugh escapes her lips. Her hands feel stiff from the exertion of the landing and she wiggles her fingers, forcing the blood back into them as she pulls them back toward her. “Thanks for the reminder.”

“No problem. Can I see your identichip and registration?”

Nuna gives him a blank stare for half a second, eyes moving almost comically from his outstretched hand and back up to his helmet. His free hand rests at his kama, index finger tapping idly. He’s got to be kidding, she nearly died and he was going to-

“You're going to give me a ticket?” She pulls her helmet off with little fanfare and hangs it from the handle bars. “Really? I nearly died and now I’m getting a ticket?!”

The trooper holds both hands up, “Easy there. No one said anything about a ticket. Just because you broke about three different traffic codes and at least two vehicular safety ones...” he lets the implication of what he’s said hang in the air.”

Nuna pulls the requested items out of her bag and hands them to the trooper with more aggression than needed but, damn it all, she was so tired she could cry and now she had to deal with a broke down speeder. Again.

She watches as the trooper looks down at the identichip and then back to her. Once, twice, three times.

“Is there a problem?”

“You’re Nuna Skii- I mean like the real Nuna Skii?” The tone of his voice has changed and he almost seems… excited?

“Uh yeah, guilty as charged. Listen, is this going to-“

“Say, ‘flying you through the night on IRR.’”

“Is this part of your usual traffic stops?” Nuna raises a brow at the trooper. Really? Did it ever get strange enough. She swings a leg over the seat and moves to stand. Her legs shake underneath her and tall, excitable and toothy holds out a gloved hand.

“Here, let me help you.”

She takes it because falling flat on her face really doesn’t seem like something she wanted to add to her laundry list of problems this morning. When she’s standing at her full height, which was substantially shorter than the solid wall of clone trooper in front her, she looks up.

His hand moves to the back of his helmet and rubs gently, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound demanding.” He says almost bashful. “It’s just that if-“

She takes pity on him. “From Corellia to Canto Bight, flying you through the night on Independent Republic Radio”

He stands frozen for a moment. Nuna squirms under the unflinching state of his visor until finally-

“Holy Fett! It’s really you! Listen! I- I mean we- the Guard- we’re like your biggest fans.”

The wind whips up through the levels ruffling the hair on her head, deep lilac colored wisps work their way into her mouth and she spits uselessly before reaching up and using her fingers to remove them. “That’s great really-“

Her hands go to her hips. Was this guy for real?

“Hey, I know a guy that does towing. He’s kind of a di’kut but he owes me a favor. I could get your ride towed where you need it. I mean, if you want?”

“Like, for free?” She clarifies.

The trooper looks down at her as if that was a given, “well, yeah.”

“And you want what in return?” Nuna fidgets. This is where the guy becomes a dirtbag and asks for something. He hands back her identichip and registration before reaching up and popping the seal on his bucket. He gives her a lopsided grin as he slips the helmet up his arm. Kriff. He was cute. His dark hair is cut into a floppy Mohawk. A stray curl of it dips down across his forehead and he offers her a lopsided grin. He is about as intimidating as a puppy.

“Can I get a shout out on your show tonight? I mean, the boys are NEVER going to believe this unless you do.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it” he seems to think for a moment and his smile becomes toothy, “unless you’d like to give me your number too?”

She can feel the hot rush of embarrassment to her cheeks and hopes he mistakes it for wind burn. She ignores his comment about her number because, this fine specimen was so far out of her league it was crazy.

“So What’s to stop me from saying yes and not doing it”

“Aww come on, please? You wouldn’t do one of your biggest fans like that would you?”

“What’s your name?” She can’t handle the soft puppy dog eyes he’s giving her. It should be illegal for any dude with shoulders that broad to look so cute.

“Sargent Hound of the Coruscant Guard at your service.”

She nearly chokes. Well, that explained the puppy dog eyes. “You drive a hard bargain, Sargent.” She says regaining her composure. She looks behind him to the GAR issued speeder. “If you can drop me at my building I’ll call it a deal.”

His smile makes her tummy flutter, “I think that can be arranged.”

——-

“You’re full of it” Rule barks “Osik up to your visor!”

Hound is lounging back on a couch that is not nearly large enough for both him and the massiff sprawled out on it. Grizzer lifts his head, licks his lips lazily and lays back down. Hound scratches around the creature's dorsal spikes and the massiff kicks his back foot happily.

“I told you man. It was her. Identichip verified and everything.

“El-Tee? You hear this?”

Lieutenant Thire looks up from his holopad and the boloball game he was watching, “what?”

Rule is grinning from ear to ear, “Hound here says he helped Nuna Skii out of a bind this morning.”

“I’m not just saying it. I did it.”

Hound explains lazily. He doesn’t tell them about giving her a ride home, pretty sure he broke about half a dozen regs just having her pressed up against his back and her arms around his waist and that was before he dropped her at her building. It was early enough in the day that he doubts anyone really noticed. If they did it was worth it to have her hands clutching at his armor.

Hound had pictured Nuna Skii so many times that the fact that she wasn’t a leggy blonde had come as a shock. What she was wasn’t a bad thing, just different. Short and soft with curves in places he wished he could run his hands all over.

“Prove it!” Ryk laughs as he ambles in, freshly showered and pulling his blacks over his head.

“Should we tell ‘Em Grizz, old man? Or should we just let them eat their buckets when it happens?”

Ryk rolls his eyes as the ARF Trooper chats with his massiff. “You know he’s never going to answer back, right?”

Grizzer looks over his shoulder at Ryk.

“Aww come on man” Hound fusses. One mearty hand moves to scratch under the massiff’s intimidating jaw. Grizzer turns into the touch, nearly purring with contentment. “Just because he can’t speak basic doesn’t mean he doesn’t understand it. Isn’t that right boy. We got our own language, Grizz and I. Smartest mas’ in the whole GAR, aren’t you?”

The creatures leathery tail thumps happily in agreement.

“Don’t know about that but he certainly smells a lot better than the bunch of you.” Thire mutters turning his attention back to boloball and cursing quietly. Ryk lifts an arm smelling.

“Not me! I’m squeaky clean!”

“We’re getting off track here” Rule announces in an attempt to refocus the gathered troopers. “What we need to know is how you're going to prove you met Nuna Skii.”

“Did she sign a ticket?” Thire asks, not looking up. When Hound doesn’t answer Thire looks up.

“She was having a really bad morning-“

“You do know when you work traffic you have to ticket people at least once in a while.”

“Apparently, not the pretty ones.” Ryk cackles.

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you, vod.”

Ryk rolls his eyes as Hound moves to turn the radio on. Nuna’s show was starting any minute. He hoped she’d come through.

———-

Around and around Nuna spins. The wheels on her roller chair are in desperate need of oil and squeak in protest. Nuna is undeterred as she waits for the next commercial to end. Her producer glances at her through the transparisteel divider and rolls her eyes. Yes, she was a child. No, she would not be apologizing. She grabs a cold protato from a greasy Dex’s bag as she makes another loop. If her fans could see her now. She’s got on an oversized tunic and a pair of dark pants that were probably a little too tight but were way too comfortable for her to care. When she woke her hair wasn’t about to do anything for her so now it sits piled high in a sloppy bun atop her head. She was about as far away from the character she portrayed as she could get.

“On in fifteen Nunz” Tully her producer says. Nuna hurries to swallow her food and takes a big gulp of water.

“And that was the Twi’Three with their latest and I’m Nuna Skii keeping you up all night.” She purrs into the mic. “I think we’re going to go to the comms and take a few calls. Whatcha wanna let the galaxy know?”

“Hi Nuna. Long time listener. I just wanted to say that I love the show but I’m getting really tired of your pandering to clones-“

Nuna mashes the end button with gusto before sighing deeply into the mic.

“Babies and Gentlemen. My lovelies. From 2100 til 0500 five nights a week this is a trooper positive show. If you don’t like it I’d suggest you find something else to listen too. Those yummy boys in white are giving the Republic their all. I don’t see a problem with a few minutes here and there dedicated to them, do you?” She asks sweetly. “It makes me happy making them happy. You know what else makes me happy? New stuff from that Mon Cal band, Ach’tu. Coming at you after this commercial break”

———-

“Maker, I love when she does that.” Ryk groans quietly. “She could put me in my place any day.”

Rule nods, “she could read me the repair manual to my deece and I would die a happy man.”

Thire snorts, “What about you Hound. Got something to say?”

“Yeah man” Ryk lifts his head from where he was resting it against the back of his chair. “What does she look like.”

Hound offers a sly grin, “like a million credits.”

“Long legs? Big tits? You're killing us man” Rule says raising a brow, “unless you don’t really know.”

Hound laughs, “I know vod, but I’m not telling.” His brothers roll their eyes.

“For all my blaster babes and bucket bunnies happily messing with republic property. I salute you.” Nuna’s voice grabs the gathered troopers attention. Thire snorts softly, pretending as if he wasn’t listening. “Along those lines I want to send a special thanks to my new favorite Hound dog out there patrolling the sky lanes of Coruscant. Keep being a good boy and next time we meet I’ll give you a scratch behind the ears.”

The room falls silent except for the low snore of a sleeping massiff. All eyes fall on Hound. His smile says I told you so.

A good boy. Yeah, he could be very happy with that.

[fallout-lou-begas]

Elevated Extras: Ranger Ghost Companion

You a Courier? If so, this might be your lucky day...if you don't mind walking a bit and your eyes are good. 

(Original sketch by @tarberrymentats / based on the OC Companion Meme by @falloutfandomeventhub / if you borrow this concept please tag it as #fallout elevated extras)

General

Name: Ranger Ghost

Location: Mojave Outpost

How to obtain: Complete the sidequest “Keep Your Eyes on the Prize,” then begin the sidequest “Giving Up the Ghost” to get her reassigned from the Mojave Outpost. Once freed of her assignment, she can travel with the Courier to monitor Legion activity throughout the Mojave.

Companion Quest: “Giving Up the Ghost.”

Ranger Ghost, like everyone else, is sick and tired of being stuck at the Mojave Outpost. Unfortunately, orders are orders. With the courier’s help, though, she just might be able to come down from that rooftop, but dealing with NCR bureaucracy might be a worse ordeal than Legion crucifixion.

Companion Wheel

I think we should travel together. You probably can’t tell, but that’d make me very happy. Let’s get the hell out of here.

Let’s talk about your tactics. Sure. Lecture the ranger on tactics. Go ahead. / What’re you thinking?

I want you to change your combat style. (humoring) Alright. / If you insist.

Use a melee weapon. Close combat, then. / Sure. We can hold their hands and tuck them in while we’re at it. / (Wild Wasteland Enabled) Try to remember the basics of CQC.

Use a ranged weapon. (stating the obvious) It’s what I do. / You going to spot for me? / (deeply sarcastic) Aww. Finally remembered I’m a ranger?

Be passive. Sure, give peace a chance. / Don’t go pacifist on me, now.

Be aggressive: Locked and loaded. / (mocking the company line) Right, and with “extreme prejudice.”

Enough about tactics. Agreed. Anything else? / Are we good, then?

Let’s talk about how close you’re following me. Is there a problem? / What are you...implying, exactly?

Wait here. Right. Things to do, places to be? / Holding down here. / I’ll keep watch here.

Follow me. Let’s roll out. / Finally. Don’t like waiting. / Right. Skip to my fucking lou.

Stay close to me. (sternly cautious) Define “close.” / Got it, on you. / Just don’t bump my gun.

Keep your distance. Positioning, got it. / Yeah, covering you. / (facetious concern) Don’t get lost, now.

Let’s trade equipment. Don’t get fucking handsy, now. / Just don’t hog the ammo.

(Overburdened). I’m not your fucking pack brahmin. / (exasperated) I’ve only got so many pockets.

(Sneaking). Staying low. / (wryly imperative) Quiet, now.

(In Courier’s iron sights). What the fuck is wrong with you? / (slowly, emphasizing) Watch your trigger discipline. / Don’t make me take that away.

(Courier lays mine). I’ve got my eyes on that. / You’d better have a plan for that.

It’s time for us to part ways. It’s because i’m a bitch, isn’t it. / Such sweet fucking sorrow, I bet.

I’d like you to go to the Lucky 38. Hm. Sending the Ghost to the haunted house. See you there. I’ll try not to spook the Securitrons.

We can meet again at the Mojave Outpost. (sucks teeth) Guess I’ll report what I’ve got back to headquarters. Hopefully by now they’ve got someone else watching the brahmins shit full-time.

Injured: (seething) SSShhit. / Didn’t want it like this. / (with conviction) I didn’t get off that roof just to fucking bite it.

Damaged Limb: (shout of pain) Fucker clipped me! / Sure could use a fucking medic.

Regaining Consciousness: What...what the hell happened? / (trailing off) Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck...

Death: (death rattle) / (weakly) Ghosts...can die, huh...ha...

Attributes

Aggression: Aggressive.

Confidence: Brave.

Assistance: Helps friends and allies.

Karma: Neutral.

Perks

Ghost of a Chance: When Ranger Ghost is by your side, so are the odds. In addition to gaining an extra 3% chance to critically hit, any single attack that would kill you may instead leave you just barely alive and invulnerable for a brief moment..

Drops, if killed

Ranger Vest Outfit

Ranger Grey Hat

Authority Glasses

Cowboy Repeater

Combat Knife

Iguana Bits

Grognak the Barbarian

Dialogue, Quest Details, and Ending Slides:

Dialogue

Why do they call you Ghost? What, don’t I scare you? Boo? Nothing? (beat) Well, if you gotta know, it stuck pretty quick back in basic. Not like there were many other albinos in boot camp. The all-white spooky bitch who shoots better at night? Yeah, that’s a ghost, alright. Pissed me off at first, but I came around when it started giving privates the heebie-jeebies. Just a little kick, is all.

What’s an albino? Albinism is a pigment disorder. You know, the color of your skin and hair? As in I don’t have color. Pale as a sheet.

[Medicine 35] A sharpshooter with albinism? Isn’t your vision affected? Done your homework, huh? Well, these big, bad sunglasses aren’t just for intimidation, doc. They only come off when I sleep. Sucks enough being photosensitive in the goddamn desert, but like I said. I’m a lot better at night.

What’s your real name? (the thousandth time she’s answered this exact question) If I told you that, I’d have to kill you.

Aw, come on. Curiosity killed the courier. Don’t push it.

[Speech 40] I’m just trying to understand my partner better. Then “understand” that I don’t owe you shit except loyalty. Just call me Ghost, and you’ll get that.

[Cherchez La Femme] Surely you’ve got a name to match that lovely personality. (flustered) Are you d-...I-...Yeah, I do.But you can just keep calling me Ghost. (quietly) For...for now.

What’s the deal with Ranger Jackson? Man hasn’t got a thought in his fucking head...which is why he’s such a good C.O., from the top down. He’s a nice enough guy on a good day. He’s...principled, for sure. But the man wouldn’t budge on an order from brass if it’d save his life. Stranded caravaneers get so bored and restless because of the impasse he’s overseeing that he’s started (excessive emphasis) “hiring” the rowdier ones for odd jobs off the grounds, which is why we’ve been “losing” supplies for a while. Gets shit done, I guess, but wish he’d show half that drive when bitching to HQ, but no. They tell him to sit tight, he says yes sir, and then he takes it out on us when we get frustrated at the frustrating bullshit.

Do you know Major Knight? (standoffish) Yeah. Good guy. Known him a while. Hell, he’s been at M.O. longer than I have.

What does he do? Repairs, mostly. With all the caravans backed up, we sort of have a monopoly on maintenance and upkeep. And believe me, he does damn fine work.

[Confirmed Bachelor] Is he...you know…? Is he...oh. Between you and me? Yeah. He and I are...alike. I mean, I’m the bitch everybody hates, so I don’t really give a shit, but beneath that…(thinking how best to describe him, ribbing him a bit)...accountant exterior of his, he’s really the soft, sensitive type. Needs someone to talk to sometimes. I’m that someone, sometimes, but if you get the chance...it’d do him good just to know he’s not that alone out here.

How can I best use your skills? Hard to find a way that’d be worse than all the wasted time at M.O., but I’ll make it easy for you: give me a target and let me shoot it. If it’s too close to shoot, I’m trained in hand-to-hand, and if it’s too far to shoot, it’ll never see me coming. Standard repertoire for a ranger.

What’s your opinion on the NCR? High enough to keep me enlisted, low enough to where I’ve got plenty to mock. We’re a good country, a damn good country. We’re the only real country actually left in the West. We’d be the best thing to ever crawl out of the bombed-out ruins of this war if it weren’t for all the bureaucratic bullshit, and the brass getting duller the higher you go. It’s all just song and dance and sloganeering to them out here. Whatever looks good on paper. They don’t give a shit what really happens to people out here, and if Caesar doesn’t kill us, that might. At least on the inside.

What’s it like being a ranger? Ranger training is the best, most brutal gauntlet this side of the Colorado. Hours and hours of days and days spent shooting, drilling, fighting, bringing the body to its breaking points, pouring blood and sweat just to get an inch past the wide-eye hopefuls who were always going to just wash out...and all of it just to stand on a fucking rooftop staring at ants and malnourished raiders on the interstate. I swear, if you gave headquarters a golden egg, they’d fucking cook it.

Were you at the battle of Hoover Dam? Was going to be, but believe it or not, I sat out sick. Got the fucking flu right before and was stuck at McCarran the whole time, half-lucid. Let me tell you, the whole tent of coughs and sneezes crowding around that radio, listening to the reports...when Hanlon ordered that retreat out of Boulder City, we were grabbing our rifles and getting ready to march out on foot, even if we could barely stand. We thought that was it. Of course, it wasn’t, and we cheered so loud when they radioed about the explosion that I hope Caesar damn well heard it.

Do you wish that you had been there? Of course I do. If I miss the next one because I’m stuck at the Outpost or some shit, I’m deserting with a dozen fed-up caravaneers to flank his fucking fort myself, if only for some goddamn excitement.

How do you feel about the Legion? Love ‘em. Joined the NCR because I just wanted to meet them that bad. Their new Legate’s such a heartthrob, I hear.

You’re not serious. (sucks teeth, deep sigh) Look. You saw Nipton. It was just a taste of what they do. I’ve seen good men die on crosses, and that’s a mercy compared to the good women. I hear when women sign up now, they get about five extra “are you sures?” from recruiters. Not officially, of course. Brass would never let people back home know how bad it is. But it’s just another thing that makes me glad I’m a sniper, sometimes. Engage at range. Out of reach.

What about Legion society? Do you know anything about life across the river? There’s nothing across that river. Nothing. (beat, pondering) Do you remember the Enclave War? Bitter, bloody, big explosion at Navarro? And the Brotherhood campaign out here? Even worse of a shitshow, but still, we won that out, too. But the Enclave and the Brotherhood at least stood for something. They were societies, or at least promises of one, and if things had shaken out the other way for the NCR at least something would still be standing here. The Legion isn’t like that. They aren’t “something.” They’re one big razor across Arizona, shaving everything down. And if we don’t stop them here, we never will.

What about their Legate? (with contempt) Lanius, “The Monster of the East.” Caesar must’ve plucked him out of hell or something after his first legate blew it at Hoover Dam. Word from recon is that the only reason we’re all still twiddling our thumbs there is that he’s out making friends for Caesar someplace, and he’ll be bringing them all back for a whole ‘nother goddamn jamboree soon. (tension broken by a funny thought; spoken dryly) Or should I say a Damboree. Since it’d be at the Dam.

Do you know anything about Mr. House? No. Closest I’ve ever been to the Strip has been McCarran, where I was too proud to get wasted on expensive booze in the casinos. As punishment, I got stuck with nothing to do but get shitfaced on cheap booze at the outpost. All I know is Mr. House runs the whole Strip himself, and there’s one casino, the Lucky 36 or something, that’s supposed to be all his. No one’s allowed in, no one’s ever come out. Frankly? Just strikes me as fucking weird.

Companion Quest: Giving Up the Ghost

After completing the sidequest “Eyes On the Prize” (in which the Courier checks Nipton for survivors), Ghost will remark that the Mojave’s going to hell, and all she can do is sit and watch. The Courier will reply that she ought to stop watching and travel with them, to which she’ll respond that her orders are absolute—but if the courier can change her orders somehow, she’d be indebted. The quest then begins.

= = = Stage 1: Deal with Jackson = = =

First, the Courier must speak to Ranger Jackson and convince him to consider Ghost’s reassignment. They can do this through the following dialogue options:

[Speech 80] This outpost is just waiting to be overrun by Legion. You’ll be the next Nipton unless you’re proactive.

[Speech 55; completed “Can’t You Find It In Your Heart” beforehand] Maybe I could tell your superiors about where I “found” these “lost” supplies, then.

[Barter 80] Ghost is an exceptional asset to the rangers. Stationing her here is a waste of valuable NCR resources.

[NCR Fame] There’s work to be done for the NCR out there, and Ghost is who I trust to do it with me.

[Black Widow] I’ve ways of making men come around...especially handsome men in uniform. (The Courier must then sleep with Ranger Jackson)

Note that the Courier can not simply complete the quest “Can’t You Find It In Your Heart?” as a favor to Jackson for Ghost’s reassignment. While he’ll let a caravaneer go, it’ll take more than clearing some ants from the road to get him to compromise his standing force and let go of a ranger. 

Alternatively, Jackson’s death will advance the quest.

Kill Jackson. Similar to Cass’ companion quest, Jackson can simply be killed. However, Ghost is far less sympathetic to this course of action and will confront the Courier over the murder. If Jackson is simply killed, the Courier will either need a convincing alibi [Speech 90] to argue that they weren’t responsible or admit to the murder. If the Courier fails the Speech check or admits to the murder, Ghost will turn hostile (“Maybe you didn’t fucking think this through, but do you know what we call someone who kills an NCR ranger? An enemy of the NCR rangers. Now, eat shit.”). Alternatively, the Courier can intimidate Ghost into silence with a [Terrifying Presence] option, after which a shaken but seething Ghost will simply ask the Courier to leave the outpost and never come back. Passing the Speech check is the way to not fail the quest from this option.

Kill Jackson and frame Cass. If the Courier kills Jackson themself, attempting to loot Jackson’s body will trigger a message suggesting that they could frame Cass for the murder by splashing whiskey on the body (so long as Cass is not currently the player’s companion and is currently at the Mojave Outpost, not the Lucky 38). By adding a whiskey bottle to Jackson’s body without themself or the body being discovered in the meantime, they can successfully implicate Cass for the murder, and explain as much to Ghost. She’ll buy it, since Cass was one of the most frustrated residents of the outpost and was drunk almost all the time. Cass will then disappear from the game, and if Lacey, Major Knight, or Ghost (if the Courier left the outpost before speaking to her again) are asked, they will explain that Cass was arrested by the NCR.

Have someone else kill Jackson. A desperate, fed-up caravaneer named Paul by the brahmin pens is willing to kill Jackson for 5,500 caps. This price can be negotiated down to 4,000 with a [Barter 60] check, and 3,500 with [Barter 75]. At midnight that night, Paul will attempt to sneakily kill Jackson. Alternatively, Paul can be incensed into attacking Jackson immediately and for free with a [Hot Blooded] trait check. In either case, though, there is no guarantee that Paul will succeed, and if Paul is killed then the Courier must advance the quest another way (though they can loot their spent caps from Paul’s body). When spoken to afterwards, Ghost will remark that she saw the Courier speaking to Paul and ask if they had anything to do with it. By passing a [Speech 50] check, the Courier can convincingly lie that they were trying to talk him out of it. With either the [Black Widow] or [Cherchez la Femme] perks, the Courier can lie and say that Paul very foolishly did it to try to impress them. With [Low Intelligence] the Courier can earnestly say that they thought “taking care” of Jackson meant doing something nice for him.

Somehow allow Jackson to die. If Jackson just somehow dies in an unaccounted way, such as from a spawned-in deathclaw eviscerating him in his own office, Ghost will remark on the strangeness of the situation but won’t blame the Courier. This is a failsafe option to prevent quest breakage.

= = = Stage 2: Find a Replacement = = =

If Jackson is alive, he’ll agree with the Courier that he ought to let Ghost go, but he’s still under orders to maintain a standing force at Mojave—a standing force which includes a highly trained sniper. If Jackson has been killed, Ghost will mention that Major Knight is next in command and would be glad to give her clearance, but that he won’t be able to do so without a replacement sniper, either. Either way, the Courier is tasked with finding a suitable replacement. The Courier can ask her for advice:

Who should I look for to be your replacement? They have to be NCR, obviously. Ex-NCR might work, too, so long as they’re in good standing. Any Dick or Jane off the road is a no-go, since brass put the kibosh on officially contracting mercenaries. Oh, and anyone you get would have to be well-trained. Not necessarily a ranger, but good enough to replace one, even for a sit-on-the-shitter job like this. Only the best and brightest get to stare at this fucking road all day, apparently.

Where should I look for your replacement? If you checked out some of the ranger stations around the Mojave, they might be able to move some people around. Hell, take it all the way to McCarran if you want, or with Hanlon. If you’re going to give them shit on my behalf, by all means, go nuts. A lot of higher-ups can be greased with enough favors, anyway. Whoever you get just needs the right credentials. Legion attacks get dragged asses and twiddled thumbs, sure, but bad paperwork would set a goddamn fire at headquarters.

The following characters can be recruited as the Mojave Outpost’s new watch:

A generic ranger. By speaking to the commanding officers of at least three of the NCR ranger camps across the Mojave with sufficient [NCR Fame], the Courier can speak to Chief Hanlon to arrange for Ghost’s replacement with a generic ranger. This option is impossible if “Return to Sender” has already been completed.

Craig Boone. If the Courier has completed “I Forgot to Remember to Forget” in a way that makes Boone repentant over his past, he can be persuaded to take over Ghost’s position as a good way to put his skills to use. Otherwise, he will refuse, either preferring to stay in Novac where he lived with Carla or not wanting to be stuck as a watchman again when he could be out killing Legionnaires. If selected, Boone’s home marker will change from Novac to the Mojave Outpost.

Manny Vargas. Novac’s other sniper can be convinced to take up Ghost’s post, but only if the Courier has completed “One For My Baby,” “Come Fly With Me,” and eradicated the Legion presence from Nelson. Once convinced that Novac seems safe, for now, he’ll be willing to reenlist if paid a generous salary. The Courier can either pay Manny 5,000 caps to reenlist now, pass a [Barter 65] check to explain that it’s a provisional reenlistment and reduce their bribe to 3,000, or if the Courier has already passed the [Confirmed Bachelor] check in dialogue with Knight, they can tell Manny about the cute little major sitting behind the desk all day there by his lonesome. Once convinced, Manny will relocate to the Mojave Outpost and take Ghost’s place.

Bryce Anders. This keen-eyed ranger can be recruited to Ghost’s position if he is rescued from the Vault 3 Fiends by the Courier. Once spoken with in Camp McCarran, the Courier can explain that the Mojave Outpost needs a new ranger stationed there. He will defer to Colonel Hsu’s authority on reassignments, and with a successful [Speech 60], [Medicine 40], or [NCR Fame] check, Hsu will agree to the reassignment on the grounds that it’s a useful position still sedentary enough to not complicate the ranger’s recovery.

Little Buster. The listless bounty hunter at Camp McCarran is looking for another career path and would be willing to take over Ghost’s do-nothing position. However, the only way to recruit him is to fabricate both credentials and enlistment records by either stealing personnel files from either Colonel Hsu’s office at Camp McCarran or from the filing cabinets at Camp Golf, or speaking to Daniel Contreras, who “knows a guy” who’ll take care of it if the Courier has already acquired access to Contreras' expanded inventory by siding with him in the unmarked quest “Dealing with Contreras.”

Private Halford. The sole survivor of Camp Guardian mentions that he wants to head back home through Mojave Outpost after being rescued from the mirelurk caves, at which point the Courier can mention no one is allowed to leave through there, and ask if he’d like to take Ghost’s position there instead. At first he’ll refuse, but with a [Speech 45] or [NCR Fame] check he can be convinced that a quiet, do-nothing watch assignment would be a lot better than anything else after what happened at Camp Guardian, to which he’ll agree. He will also relocate to the Mojave Outpost after being freed anyway, getting stuck like everyone else so that the speech check can be re-attempted. However, Halford isn’t considered well-trained enough for a ranger’s job. The Courier must speak to Jackson (or Knight, if Jackson is dead) and pass a [Speech 80] or [NCR Fame] check to make a strong endorsement, or a [Survival 55] check to explain how impressive it is that he survived an attack from so many mirelurks. Alternatively, the Courier can fabricate impressive enough credentials through the options required to assign Little Buster.

Once Ghost’s replacement has been assigned to the Mojave Outpost, the Courier only needs to speak to Ghost again. She will explain that she’s been “reassigned” to open patrol across the Mojave, ostensibly to track Legion activity, so long as she does so with the Courier. She also gains an additional dialogue option dependent on your choice of replacement:

What do you think of your replacement?

(Generic ranger) For this job? Any ranger’s as wasted as any other. I almost feel bad, I doubt she’ll like that fucking roof any more than I did...almost feel bad. Doesn’t quite cancel out the relief.

(Boone) First recon is one hell of a pull. Took right to it, too, like he was already used to it. Strikes me as the...quiet, contemplative type. Likes to think. Not much else to do up there, anyway. I bet those brahmin pins have never felt safer.

(Manny) First recon is one hell of a pull. Took right to it, too, like he was already used to it. Seems like a nice enough guy, and seems to be getting along with Major Knight. Hell, you love to see it.

(Bryce) A good man. Heard about what the Fiends did to him, and after all that, he certainly deserves a break. Didn’t think of this shit job as much of a vacation before, but seems like it’ll do him good.

(Buster) Not sure where the hell you found this guy, but if (Jackson / Knight) gave the okay, then...okay. I would’ve put a goddamn brahmin in a beret up there if it could have gotten me another assignment.

(Halford) The mirelurk guy? Yeah, he seems alright. I’ve never actually seen a mirelurk, but after hearing his story, I don’t think I want to. I didn’t even know we had a camp that far up there.

Speaking to Ghost after her replacement takes her position completes the quest, and from then on, she can now be recruited as a companion. However, similar to Boone, she will only remain the Courier’s companion if they maintain good reputation with the NCR, and as an active-duty ranger, her intolerance for anti-NCR actions is even more strict.

Ending Slides

If "Giving Up the Ghost” is started, but never completed:

NCR Victory. Ranger Ghost remained at Mojave Outpost, dutifully, thanklessly, and restlessly. When the rangers there received word that the Legion had made their move on the dam, the entire outpost went silent. Waiting. From her rooftop perch, at least she was the first to see the bearer of good news come up the road. In the moment, at least, it was worth everything to be there.

Legion, House, or Independent Victory. Ranger Ghost remained at Mojave Outpost, dutifully, thanklessly, and restlessly. When the rangers there received word that the Legion had made their move on the dam, the entire outpost went silent. Waiting. From her rooftop perch, she was the first to see the NCR’s retreat, as civilians and troopers alike began fleeing through the Long 15. She was right: this whole time, all she could do was watch.

Ghost is dead. Ghost, bitterly, died as she lived...(deep sigh) at the Mojave fucking Outpost.

If “Giving Up the Ghost” is completed:

NCR Victory: When legionnaires by the score descended upon Hoover Dam, Ghost was proud to have been one of the many rangers in the battle that kicked their shit in back across the Colorado. She celebrated with the rest of them, even a smile creeping onto her face every now and then. Still, Ghost returned to business before long, as part of a squad out East tracking down the straggling remnants of Caesar’s retreating Legion.

Legion Victory: Ghost was among the many rangers who fought at Hoover Dam, but when the army of legionnaires led by the Courier, to whom she owed her very presence there, proved unstoppable, she was ultimately among its many casualties. Their advance was too sudden, too overwhelming, for a clean evacuation, and a grisly duel with a centurion trapped her near the front. Still, the Legion never took Ghost alive. She made sure of it.

House or Independent Victory: The arrival of the Securitrons at Hoover Dam was a surprise to every NCR trooper stationed there, including Ghost. Their sudden turn against the NCR, and their allegiance to the Courier, even more so. The triumph of vanquishing the Legion was short-lived, then, as Ghost joined the forced retreat, one pale face in a sea of many. 

Ghost is dead: Despite her name, there was no supernatural flourish when Ghost died. She simply died like a ranger, fighting to the end. That’s all that mattered.

(Bonus) Cass’s Ending Slide if the Courier frames her for the murder of Jackson:

Rose of Sharon Cassidy spent all of her time at the Mojave Outpost in a drunken stupor, which is why when Major Knight oversaw her arrest for the murder of Ranger Jackson, it took so long to get exonerated. By the time the alibi was pieced together and the evidence was admitted as circumstantial, the battle of Hoover Dam shifted NCR’s attention elsewhere, and the crime was never solved. For a few months in the clink, though, at least Cass got what she wanted: home, and finally away from the outpost.

[nocturne-pisces]

I’m the fucking lizard king- (1)

Summary: The idea that if you repeatedly bash your head into a brick wall, eventually the brick wall will love you back.

Pairing: OC!AFAB/NB!ChaoticDumbass (but described vague enough to be reader)xTFATWS!Bucky

Word Count: 762 

Warnings: for this chapter? just bad language and existentialism. 

A/N: welcome to the shit show. void is a character i’m working in a novel for.

[if you want you can pretend there’s a cover image here, but i’m too dumb for photoshop]

The notebook that Dr. Raynor took notes with, more to prove a point than to write anything, in her sessions with Bucky laid across her thigh as her pen scratched notes about how childish he was being. Bucky kept refusing to answer questions, or flat out lied to her, and her battlefield tried patience was wearing eerily thin. 

“Jesus Christ, this again? I thought we were past the passive aggression?”

“If you don’t talk, or if you lie,” she added, knowing that he would try to worm his way around her rules, “then I write. That’s how it’s been from the beginning, James.”

“Alright, alright. Put the pen down,” he surrendered. Bucky let out a chest-rattling sigh, the kind that made your ribs feel empty.

“So again, I’ll ask. How are the missions with Sam and V going?” Christina placed her pen in it’s holder on the notebook and set it to the side, folding her hands in her lap and training her gaze on Bucky.

“Good. They’re going really well. Sam is as annoying as usual, too much optimism for someone who’s been arrested by the federal government and spent two years on the run,” he shared, his eyes fixed on where he was toying with the seam on his gloves. Sharing his feelings and eye contact wasn’t something that he’d worked up to yet. 

“And V?”

Void, or V for short, was a new team member. Someone that they’d found in Madripoor with connections to information on the soldier serum and the power broker and incredibly too much sugar in their system at all times. Team mate might not be the right phrasing, either, because it wasn’t like they’d ever gotten an invitation to the team officially. Void, more or less, just thought the two of them were entertaining and decided to tag along. The usefulness they provided on missions was more a side effect than an intended outcome. 

Bucky rolled his eyes, a familiar flush creeping up the back of his neck as a whole new wave of irritation crashed over him. 

“Void is -- fuck, I don’t know.”

“You don’t know how you feel about them as a teammate?”

“I don’t know how I feel about them as anything to me, doc.”

“Sounds like your thoughts run deeper than you’re willing to say.”

________________________________________________________________

Bucky’s phone had buzzed a total of eight times while he was in that appointment. Once he was on the street and headed back to his own block, he pulled it out of his pocket and went over the barrage of text messages from Void. 

V: do you think there are aliens who think they’re the only sentient beings in the universe?

V: what if the earth is flat but it’s like a coin and edges are rounded so you never like fall off the edge or whatever and the sail from one side to another never looks like a disc? 

V: bucky these are important questions please respond :(

V: i’m going to start sending you memes you wont understand unless you reply to me in the next five minutes. >:|

V: two more minutes boinky, i swear to britney i’ll do it >:(

V: i’m literally an angel i don’t understand why you hate me so much :’(

V: [image attached]

V: [image attached]

Bucky gripped his phone willing his patience to reappear before he snapped it in half. When he looked back down at the screen he noticed that the bubble with the three dots had appeared, signaling that Void was typing again. 

Bucky: if you don’t shut the fuck up i am going to choke you to death

V: FUCKO!!!

V: finally you replied. i thought you left out of the back door and i wouldn’t get to see how irritated you were.

Bucky’s eyebrows knitted together, looking up and down the street to find where Void was stalking him from. He couldn’t see them, couldn’t tell where they were hiding, but he felt eyes on him like lasers.

V: there’s no point in looking for me, you know i’m way better at hiding than you

Bucky: where the fuck are you, i’m coming to kick your ass

V: Dr. Raynor would be very dissapointed to hear you say that

Bucky: excuse me? you know about my therapy sessions?

V: google is my friend, dumbass.

Bucky: you better pray i don’t find you, v

V: but jaaaaaames you never hang out with me. i have to go all yandere just to even pretend we’re friends

Bucky: we’re not friends

V: 

Bucky: found you. two buildings over. south wall. your ass is grass.

V: AND I OOP

Before Bucky could break out in a dead sprint, his arm itching to get Void in a headlock, his phone vibrated again.

Sam: Why was I just emailed V’s last will and testament? 

______________________________________________________________

A/N: I’m not smart enough to keep up with tag lists. :)

[pappydaddy]

Part Two: Mr. Brightside

A/N: Here’s Part Two! I don’t know when Part Three will be out, but I’m sure it’ll be out soon, I’m almost done the part and the songs for it! Check out the playlist!! If anyone wants to make an Apple Music version, just DM me!

PLEASE TAKE A SECOND TO LOOK AT MY PINNED POST, SIGN THE PETITION AND REBLOG IT IF YOU CAN!!

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Henderson!OC 

Fandom: Stranger Things

Warnings: Guns, violence, life-threatening situation, aggressive talk about Russians (evil Russians, not all Russians), belittlement, feelings of inferiority, feelings of weakness, deprecation images of oneself, SPOILERS!!!

I Wanna Be Yours Playlist (Spotify)

This part’s songs: Red - Taylor Swift | Mr. Brightside - The Killers | Iris - The Goo Goo Dolls | To Wonder - Aqualung (feat. Kina Grannis) | Lost Cause - Beck | Towards The Light - Jacoo | Blood // Water (King Kavalier Remix) - grandson, King Kavalier |  Oh No!!! - grandson (explicit) | 1 SIDED LOVE - blackbear | Take What You Want - ONE OK ROCK (feat. 5SOS) | Get You The Moon - Kina, Snøw (Shifts into Part Three)

Part One | Part Two | Part Three - Coming Soon

masterlist | taglist | wips | navigation

- not my gif -

  Steve hid behind the plastic plant in the middle of the food court, the binoculars pressed around his eyes, surely leaving a noticeable red ring around his eyes. He was supposed to be looking for the evil Russians that the boy crouched beside him keeps rattling off about, but he couldn’t stop watching them. He really did try to pull his focus away from the two teens standing way too close, but his eyes just pulled towards them like a magnet. “See anything?” Dustin asked, poking his head up over the plant. The two stood out like sore thumbs, proving that they were shit at stake-outs. 

  “Uh, I guess I don’t totally know what I’m looking for.” Steve admitted, pulling his eyes away from the couple to scan over the other people occupying the mall. His mouth hung open, his eyes drifting back up to the second floor where Ophelia and Brett stood, leaning against the railing. 

  “Evil Russians.” Dustin told him as if it were simple. 

  “Yeah, exactly,” Steve exclaimed, not even trying to pull his eyes from Ophelia as she laughed. “I don’t know what an evil Russian looks like.” Steve muttered, his binoculars following Ophelia and Brett as they walked along the second floor. 

  “Tall? Blond? Not smiling,” Dustin listed off suggestively. Steve only hummed, squinting into the binoculars, watching as Ophelia bent down to grab a drink of water from the water fountain, paying attention to how Brett snuck a look at her butt, her dress riding up dangerously. His blood started to boil at the sight of him shamelessly eyeing her like a piece of meat. “Also, look for earpieces, camo, duffle bags, that sort of thing.” Dustin looked over at him as he hummed along, not paying attention. 

  “Right, okay, duffle bags,” Steve repeated, following the pair as they walked again. If looks could kill, Brett’s arm (which was wound around Ophelia’s waist) would have been killed brutally. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.” Steve muttered in disbelief when Brett leaned down to whisper something in Ophelia’s ear making her pull away, a blush darkening her cheeks as she giggled and hit his chest playfully. The smirk Brett wore made Steve want to knock his lights out. It was a smirk that told Steve his true intentions. He just wanted to get in her pants and he thinks he’s almost there. 

  “What?” Dustin asked, trying to follow the line of the binoculars to see what Steve saw, thinking he saw a Russian. 

  “Your sister,” Steve told him as if it was obvious. “I have no idea why she would even think about going out with a guy like Brett Morris. She can do so much better than that weasel, god-” He ranted, his top lip curling into a snarl at the sight of him pressing a kiss to her cheek, the blush coating her delicate cheeks deepening. “He’s a sleaze.” Steve grunted, looking at the tall hockey player in disgust. Dustin’s eyes snapped towards his sister, watching Brett interact with her. 

  “I don’t know, I don’t see anything wrong with it, they’re on a first date and he’s being nice?” Dustin shrugged, not seeing what Steve was all worked up about. Steve pulled his eyes from the binoculars, keeping them in place so he didn’t lose the couple. 

  “Nice? You see nothing wrong with it,” Steve asked, bewildered. “Dude! That’s your sister and he’s smirking like he’s about to bang her!” Steve nearly cried out. Dustin’s lips turned down in a disgusted frown as he fought back a gag before turning his attention back to his sister and her date who made their way down the escalators, still in each other’s arms. 

  Dustin watched Brett smile down at Ophelia as she gazed at all the sights, seeing what was going on. He shrugged, looking back at Steve who watched the same scene with a snarl. “Dude, he’s smiling like he likes her,” He shook his head at the older boy. “Why do you care anyway? Do you like her?” Steve pulled away from the binoculars again, furrowing his brow at the younger Henderson. Dustin twitched an eyebrow at Steve, waiting for an answer. 

  “I don’t like her,” He denied, his voice filtering almost like it knew something he didn’t. Of course he didn’t like Ophelia. Those were old feelings. She’s his best friend’s sister. The girl who fought demogorgons, demodogs and Billy Hargrove alongside him. The girl who always comes in and brightens his day with her smile and laugh. The girl with bright eyes that seemed to swirl with stars. She was the girl who he felt a strong need to protect, to shield away from the world that was hell-bent to destroy such a beautiful creature. The girl who kissed him in grade nine during a game of spin the bottle. Steve certainly did not like Ophelia Henderson and her certainly didn’t find himself thinking back to that quick little peck of the lips at Hannah Hanson’s party. He scoffed, looking back through the binoculars and letting panic settle into him. “Shit! Where’d they go-” He was cut off by someone snatching the binoculars away. 

  Both Dustin and Steve jumped, looking up at a fuming Ophelia; the binoculars grasped in her hand. Her body nearly shook with the anger coursing through her. “What are you two mouthbreathers doing? Spying on my date?” She asked, her fingers wrapped around the binoculars turning white from her grasp. Steve’s lips parted, his brown eyes looking up at her. It wasn’t like he set off to spy on her date, it just kinda happened. Dustin grabbed the binoculars back from his sister, making the angry girl shift her eyes to him. 

  “No-” Dustin snapped, holding the binoculars to his chest. “We were looking for evil Russians, Steve is just a horrible spy.” He told her, bringing the binoculars up to his eyes. Steve whined at the younger boy’s comment, but otherwise remained silent. 

  “Evil Russians? Why would you be looking for evil Russians in the food court?” Ophelia turned her nose up, looking at her brother as if he were crazy. Dustin sighed, pulling the binoculars from his eyes to give her a look. Steve furrowed his brow at her until he remembered that she had left them last night before they discovered the Russian transmission came from the mall. Heat bubbled in his chest, remembering why she had left them. His jaw clenched, his brown eyes hardening on the wall across from him, hoping that his stare could make it crumble. 

  “The Russians aren’t in Russia, music from the Indiana Flyer was heard in the background of the recording, blah blah blah, there you’re all caught up-” Dustin grumbled, peering through the binoculars again, leaning forward as he looked at each person mulling around suspiciously. Ophelia opened her mouth to retort, but Dustin cut her off. “Now go back to your date so that I can actually spy - unlike somebody.” Dustin shot the last part towards the older boy who sat there, stewing in his anger. 

  With a groan and a roll of her eyes, Ophelia turned on her heels and strutted back towards Brett who now held a pretzel and a drink in his hands. Steve watched as he greeted her with a smile, handing her the drink. His now free hand slipped along the small of her back as he guided her towards one of the empty seats. “Ugh, he doesn’t need to be so handsy.” Steve grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest, his lips pouting. 

  “Oh my god, I don’t get why you can’t just see it, are you really that blind?” Dustin asked Steve, not taking his eyes from the binoculars. Steve looked over at the busy-haired pre-teen. 

  “See what?” Steve snapped, trying his hardest not to look over at Ophelia again, just knowing he would be greeted by the sickening sight of her giggling for another guy. Just the thought of another guy making her laugh like Steve does made his stomach churn. He felt like he was standing out in a field as the world around him turned cold, the blue skies swirling into a dark gray - just seconds before the cold rain poured down on top of him. 

  “See how you actually feel about Leah, you Dipshit,” Dustin exclaimed, growing tired of Steve’s blindness. “Everything you’re seeing with Brett being an ass is all in your thick head, fueled by your jealousy!” Dustin told him. Sure, Dustin hadn’t noticed the crush that his friend harboured for his sister, but the second that Ophelia told them about her date, Steve had changed. It had become obvious to Dustin. All the time Steve just suddenly dropped by the Henderson household with Ophelia’s favourite movies in his hands, the fact that Steve was always parked by their curb in the mornings to drive them to school. 

  “I feel like she’s a friend, you Dipshit,” Steve argued back, his top lip rolling up into a sneer at Dustin's suggestion. The fact that everything in his life had suddenly become a downcast blue since Brett had asked Ophelia on a date didn’t mean he liked her. Just because he felt like his heart had been struck with a hammer does not mean he liked her. “And I am not jealous, I am quite positive if I do say so myself.” Steve liked to view himself as Mr. Sunshine. Full of positive light and energy. Though, he couldn’t shake the images of them after their date. Brett’s fingers trailing along the curve of Ophelia’s side as their lips mashed together. The hockey player’s fingers slipping under her skirt, running along her thighs. The mental image hurt him so much he could have punched a wall.  

  “Come on Steve! You like her, why else would you be so obsessed over her going on a date with Brett?” Dustin pointed out. Steve scoffed, rolling his eyes. Why was he even fighting with Dustin on this? Dustin was a kid, he doesn’t understand the complicated world of love. He doesn’t know the arch of a heart, he doesn’t know the pining and the angst. He has no idea what he was talking about. 

  “Because Brett Morris is a dirty sleezeball and Ophelia shouldn’t be on a date with him!” Steve told him, his arms moving frantically even though he knew Dustin wasn’t going to pull his eyes away from the binoculars to watch him. 

  “Sure,” Dustin hummed, finally pulling away from the binoculars far enough to turn his head to look at Steve. “And the fact that you can only refer to Brett as Brett Morris has nothing to do with jealousy?” Dustin posed the question. Robin and Dustin all refer to him as just Brett in a nice, casual tone, but Steve always spat his first and last name as if it was venom he had just ingested, his face always screwing up as if he had just referenced his arch nemesis. 

  “I just don’t like him, I know his type.” Steve avoided, his head swirling from Dustin’s interrogation. Why did he not like Brett? Steve never really talked to him. Sure they were both popular, but Steve hung close to the basketball crowd while Brett spread out a little more within the high school groups. Brett and Ophelia ran in the same crowd, being involved with multiple organizations in school. Without an explanation, Steve had developed a hatred for the tall hockey player from the first time he saw him and Ophelia talking in the school hallway as they stood at her locker, why back when Nancy was in the picture. 

  “You like her and if you don’t figure that you soon, you’re going to have to figure out how to forget her because she’s not going to wait around for you.” Dustin shrugged, telling him how it is. Of course he knew how his sister felt, he figured out how to pick the lock on her journal two years ago. He knew everything about her, and some of it, he didn’t want to know. 

  “I don’t like your sister dude!” Steve gave up trying to make excuses, knowing that Dustin will just mess with his head someway, making him question if he actually did like Ophelia. 

  “Yes, you do.” Dustin stated pointblank. 

  “No.” Steve denied again. Dustin shook his head, peering through the binoculars once again. 

  “Yes-” Dustin sang back, pleased with knowing that he was right once again. 

  “No-”

  “You do!” Dustin shot back. Steve glared at the younger boy. 

  “She’s not my type, okay? She’s too nice, too sweet, too pretty - too perfect.” Steve trailed off towards the end, not being able to find the correct reason why she wasn’t his type. When he was King Steve, he was positive that Carol and Tommy wouldn’t have any problem listing reasons why she wasn’t his type, but now he wasn’t sure. She was gorgeous, funny, insanely smart and caring. She was everyone’s type. 

  “What’s your type again? Girls who don’t like you?” Dustin perked an eyebrow at him when he pulled away from the binoculars once again. Steve shot him a sharp glare for the comment. Steve wasn’t sure what his type was in all honesty, but he was sure that Ophelia wasn’t it. 

  “Thank you,” Steve forced the corner of his lips up in a sarcastic smile before they dropped back down into a straight line. “For your information, Ophelia is still in school and that’ll be weird for me to date someone who is still in high school and she-she is nice to the weird-o’s like Robin. She’s on the prom committee and homecoming committee, and she likes hockey players apparently - hockey players are the bottom of the sports food chain.” Steve ranted, searching his mind for his next point. 

  Dustin looked at him once again, rolling his eyes at his reasons. “Now that you’re out of high school, which means that you’re technically an adult, don’t you think it’s time to move on from primitive constructs such as popularity - which Ophelia is popular.” Dustin suggested, trying to get Steve to see the world that’s outside of all the worrying about fitting in. 

  “Oh, primitive constructs? That some stupid shit you learned at Camp Know-” He paused, shaking his head, trying to come up with the name of the camp Dustin had went to this summer. “Nothing?” He settled for an insult, his defence mechanism starting up. 

  “Camp Know Where, actually. And no, it’s shit I learned from life,” Dustin told him. Nerds, with all that they have to put up with from the popular people, have learned things. They’ve learned that you shouldn’t focus on making other people see you as cool, instead you should focus on making yourself happy. Steve hummed, looking away from Dustin to scan over the people walking around. “Instead of dating somebody you think’s gonna make you cooler, why not date someone you actually enjoy being around,” Dustin suggested. Steve blinked, thinking about it. He did like being around Ophelia. She made his day brighter and just the thought of her made a smile stretch onto his face. “Like me and Suzie.” 

  “Oh, Suzie-” He mocked, bouncing his head. Dustin gave him a look, pulling the binoculars back to his eyes. “Yeah, you mean ‘hotter than Phoebe Cates”, yeah that Suzie, and, uh,” Steve paused. “Let’s actually think about it, how exactly did you score that beautiful girlfriend,” He posed the question, scratching the side of his face in faux question. “Oh yeah! With my advice,” He reminded him. “Because that’s how this works, Henderson. I give you advice and you follow through - not the other way around, all right, pea-brain?” Steve shot at him. Dustin gave him a look before resuming his search. 

***

  Ophelia walked towards Scoops, a dazed look on her face. The feeling of Brett’s lips on hers was still fresh. The odd feeling she felt in the bottom of her stomach returning at the memory. His lips felt odd on hers, they didn’t feel as pillowy as she imagined them to be, instead they were chapped against hers. His lips had touched her so gently, almost as if he was scared that she’d shattered under him any second. Normally, she would have found his gentleness romantic and endearing, but the kiss was almost just his lips hovering over hers, just barely brushing together like he didn’t even want to touch her. It was like that for the entire date, his fingertips just brushing against the small of her back or his arm barely touching her shoulders. 

  She found her mind wandering off to Steve and if he would have done the same thing. Would he have barely touched her, would his lips just skim over her’s in a short kiss? Would his fingertips ever so slightly touch her body? Maybe Brett just didn’t want to touch her? He hadn’t even mentioned a second date before he scampered off for his shift with blushing cheeks. She sighed, her heels scraping against the floor sluggishly. “Does he even like me?” She whispered to herself. She heard thudding feet running towards her, making her lift her head to see Steve and Dustin rushing out of Scoops in search of someone.

  They ran towards her, Steve’s hand reaching out to grasp her small wrist in his, yanking her along with them. She let out a squeak of surprise as she was spun on her heel and pulled towards the center of the mall. She tried to ignore the tingling and the heat that crawled up her arm, spreading throughout her body at his grasp. Steve came to an abrupt stop when they arrived at Robin who stood on the bench wrapping around the center planter’s box that held an assortment of fake plants and a tree, a wide eyed look on her face as she looked down at the three of them. “Robin, what are you doing?” He asked, walking closer to the blonde, his hand still wrapped around Ophelia’s wrist. 

  “I cracked it.” She said, a hint of excitement in her usually monotone drawl. Ophelia furrowed her brows, glancing at Steve’s hand still on her wrist. His grip, it wasn’t just hovering over her like Brett’s was. His touch felt different from Brett’s. His touch was just something brushing against her body while Steve’s ignited warmth in her that spread throughout her body, like a fire burning under her skin.   

  “Cracked what?” Steve asked, prompting Robin to jump from the bench - Steve and Dustin’s eyes following her. The sound of her sneakers slapping the tiled floor made Ophelia look at her.  

  “I cracked the code,” She couldn’t help the smile that consumed her face. Ophelia smiled, proud of Robin for cracking the seemingly impossible code. Robin brushed past the group, glancing down at Steve’s hand encircling Ophelia’s wrist. “Oh, um, Steve?” She turned around, walking backwards with a smirk on her face. 

  “Yeah?” Steve asked, his eyebrows jumping up as he turned his body to look at Robin, waiting for her to ask him something. Her eyes jumped from between Ophelia and him with sparkles of amusement dancing in her vibrant blue eyes. 

  “I think you can let go of Ophelia’s hand now.” She beamed at the older boy. Instantly, Dustin and Steve’s eyes dropped down to see that Steve’s hand still held Ophelia’s wrist, making Dustin snort and slap his hand over his mouth to stop his chuckles while Steve nearly choked on his own spit - a blush covering his cheeks. His hand dropped Ophelia’s wrist, the warmth she felt from his fingers grasping her wrist still burning throughout her body. 

  “Thanks.” Ophelia smiled, walking towards Robin, leaving Steve and Dustin behind. Slipping his hand from his mouth, Dustin looked at Steve who stared at his hand, clenching it in a fist before stretching it out, feeling a weird tingling that felt like he just grabbed an electric fence. Steve’s brown eyes looked up at Ophelia who talked to Robin about how she managed to figure out the code. Her hair bounced behind her as she tried to keep up with the slightly taller girl, her heels clicking against the clean tile. 

  “Yeah, you definitely don’t like her.” Dustin mused, giving Steve a look as he shook his head. Steve looked over at him, still fisting and unfisting his hand. 

  “I don’t like her!” Steve denied making Dustin hum and walk away, joining Ophelia and Robin. Steve rolled his eyes, trudging after the group. 

  “So, Leah,” Dustin cut into the girl’s conversation, earning pointed glares from both of them. “How was the date, from what I saw, it went pretty good.” Dustin inquired, stealing a glance at Steve who glared at him as well. Ophelia glanced at her brother, before glancing at Steve who dropped the glare and gave her a smile instead. 

  “Yeah, Leah, how’d the big date with Brett go? You were so excited yesterday.” Robin easily changed the subject, knowing that she had the rest of the day to explain her thought process and the plan she was cooking up in her mind. Ophelia shrugged, glancing down at her feet. 

  “Uh, it was okay. We just kind of walked around after the movie, we shared a pretzel and sat by the fountain, that’s about it.” Ophelia waved them off, her tone less excited. The date was good, he made her laugh, paid for everything before Ophelia could even think about it, but she couldn’t help but let the kiss and lack of talk about a second date put her off. Steve sensed her downcast mood, his heart itching to cheer her up. He couldn’t stand to see her so down, but he also couldn’t help but to feel delighted at the thought that her date didn’t go well. 

  “Did he kiss you? Is there a second date?” Robin pressed, glancing at Steve from the corner of her eyes as he waited for her answer with baited breath. Ophelia shook her head, a heaving sigh leaving her lips. 

  “He did kiss me, but it was weird and I have no idea if there is a second date, he didn’t even talk about a second date,” Ophelia admitted, looking at Robin. Robin simply looked at her with wide, confused eyes. She was shocked, Brett seemed to actually like Ophelia. “I’m fine, really. Brett’s cute and nice, but I think we might just be better as friends.” She brushed off Robin’s sympathetic eyes. 

  “Still, that must suck, Leah. I know how important this date was for you.” Robin rested her hand on Ophelia’s shoulder softly, offering her support. In a private moment with Robin last night when Steve was scooping ice cream and Dustin had been in the bathroom, Robin had made Ophelia crack, admitting her feelings for Steve along with her hopes that this date would help her get over the goofy dingus. Hoping that Brett would be the antidote to the poison that was her crush flooding her veins. 

  “It’s no biggie, he has my number. Maybe he’ll call me, maybe he won’t - who knows,” She continued to deflect Robin’s support. They all walked into Scoops, seeing barely anyone in the store. Robin opened her mouth to talk to her, but she cut her off. “I’m just going to change into sneakers, I want out of these shoes.” The words were heavy with a lack of emotion, a huge contrast to her normally sweet voice and cheery disposition. Steve watched her as she walked sluggishly into the back room, his heart hurting. He didn’t want to see her so sad. He wanted to see her bright smile, to hear her laughter bouncing off the blue and white striped walls of the overly cheery parlor. He was snapped out of his trance by both Robin and Dustin whacking the back of his head. 

  “Ow! What the hell was that for?” Steve grumbled, looking at Robin and Dustin who glared back at him.

  “For being an idiot.” Dustin retorted, walking around the counter, grabbing a sample spoon and skimming the top of one of the ice creams. 

  “I did it because I’m tired of this,” Robin threw her hands in the air, also walking behind the counter, closing the screen, but not before peeking in at Ophelia who sat at the table slowly putting her shoes on. “She is upset because she’s trying to move on.” She shook her head, speaking mostly to herself, but she wasn’t aware of Steve standing on the other side of the counter, hearing the words. 

  “Move on from what? She broke up with her last boyfriend back in September, she’s not still caught up on that asshole, is she?” Steve asked, making Robin whirl around in surprise, not wanting Steve to hear that. Dustin and Robin shared a look before glancing at Steve. A mix of emotions flurried around Steve’s mind like a blizzard, making him mad. Why would she still be hooked on the asshole who barely paid attention to her? Couldn’t she see that she deserved more. 

  “Why would that matter to you, Steve, you don’t like her.” Dustin sneered, reminding him. Steve jolted back at Dustin’s sudden aggression. Dustin felt protective over his sister. She was obviously crushed that her date didn’t go well and from what Robin just said, it wasn’t because she liked Brett. 

  “I care because she’s my friend. I don’t need to like her romantically to care for her,” Steve bit back making Robin groan, stomping her foot against the floor in frustration. Steve was just as thick as the layer of product in his precious hair. “What? I shouldn’t care about her?” Steve asked, his eyes wide as he tried to pinpoint their emotions based on their reactions. 

  “Let me ask you a question Steve,” Robin paused, placing her hands on the counter by the cash, her hard blue eyes looking up at him. “Were you upset about Ophelia going on a date with Brett?” Robin threw the question up in the air, already knowing the answer. 

  “I wouldn’t say upset-” Steve was cut off by Robin raising her hand at him. 

  “How did you feel about her going on a date with Brett?” Robin rephrased the question, her hand slapping back to the blue counter, waiting for Steve to answer. Steve blinked, thinking. 

  “I guess I was a little upset, I mean, Brett Morris is not good for her. She can do so much better than him.” Steve answered, growing upset at the thought of her not realizing how great she was and underestimating what she deserved. 

  “Okay, so what type of guy is good for her?” Robin bounced back instantly with another question, trying to get him to figure out that he liked her. 

  “I don’t know,” Steve muttered, thinking. With a sigh, he placed his hands on his hips. “I honestly can’t think of any guy who is good enough. They’re all shit,” Steve confessed. Robin raised her eyebrows, giving him a look. “Alright! I was upset that she was going on a date with Brett Morris, happy?” Steve exclaimed, admitting defeat. 

  “You hated it so much that you couldn’t stop spying on them, Steve. You were ready to kill the poor guy.” Dustin chimed in, trying to bring Robin’s point home. 

  “Yes, I spied on them and I might have made some comments about how much I don’t like the guy, what’s your point?” Steve asked them, kicking his leg out to the side, his tongue flicking over his bottom lip. Dustin groaned, his forehead hitting the top of the cooler. 

  “My point is you like her Steve and you have the power to make her feel better. I know it’s killing you to see her so upset so could you just take a second, try to let the realization penetrate that thick skull of yours and figure out that you are head over heels for her?” Robin pressed, gesturing towards the backroom where Ophelia still hid. Steve scoffed, shaking his head at their antics. 

  “I don’t like her, okay? I’m not even looking for a serious relationship - not after what happened with Nancy.” Steve denied. Robin and Dustin grew even more frustrated by his denial. Robin rested her elbows on the counter, leaning down as she clasped her hands together in front of her. She licked her lips, glancing down at the counter before back up at Steve. 

  “You’re just going to stand there and tell us that not even a tiny little part of you realizes that you like Ophelia?” Robin asked him point blank. Steve blinked at her. He thought about it. Did he really like Ophelia? The way Robin had phrased it and the way she said it made him question how he really felt. Had he been denying how he felt about Ophelia because he was scared of being hurt again? His heart did practically leap out of his chest at the sight of her. Seeing guys shamelessly flirt with her day in and day out made him feel like he was continuously running into a solid brick wall with his heart tapped to his face. Oftentimes, he would find himself imagining her smile to calm him down when he’s sad.

  “I-I don’t really know,” Steve stuttered, unsure of himself. He shook his head, righting his posture. “Even if I did like her, she probably doesn’t like me. I am the furthest thing from what she deserves.” Steve argued back. 

  “You won’t know if she likes you if you don’t ask Steve, I know you know how you feel about her,” Robin’s tone was soft and comforting. “We know how she feels about you, but it’s not our place to tell you that. If you want to know how she feels before you realize your feelings, you’re going to miss her - she’s not going to wait around if she likes you.” She told him. Steve looked at her in confusion. 

  “What?” Steve blinked, not understanding what she was saying.

  “I’m saying that if you don’t just figure out your feelings for her, you’re going to miss your chance with her,” Robin was handing him the answer of Ophelia’s feelings for him on a silver platter and it was up to him to figure it out. “And if you don’t figure them out fast, you’re going to mess up.” She warned. 

***

   Rain poured down on them as they laid on their stomachs, watching a storage room being loaded up. Ophelia rested her chin on her hands that laid on top of the concrete parapet in front of them. “Look for Imperial Panda and Kaufman Shoes!” Robin instructed Dustin from beside Ophelia. She pulled her hood up over her hair, her bare legs that her dress didn’t cover becoming cold as they got soaked with rain. She could hear one of the delivery guys whistling over the pounding rain, but because of the distance, she couldn’t see anything through the pouring rain. 

   “They’re with that whistling guy, ten O’Clock!” Dustin exclaimed from the other-side of Steve, his binoculars once again pressed to his face. Lazily, Ophelia let her eyes move towards the direction Dustin told them, seeing a man with a yellow raincoat pushing a trolley with three boxes on it into the storage unit. She also couldn’t help but notice the two large guys dressed in black, both holding rather large guns. 

  “What do you think’s in there?” Steve asked, his eyes squinting as rain fell on his head. He was the only one without a proper raincoat, but that didn’t surprise Ophelia, he wouldn’t be one to own a rain jacket. 

  “Guns, bombs.” Dustin suggested. 

  “Chemical Weapons.” Robin also suggested. Steve’s eyebrows jumped as he licked his lips. He wasn’t pleased to have Ophelia with them, not wanting her mixed up with this. It was starting to get dangerous.

  “Whatever it is, they’re armed to the teeth.” Dustin announced, his eyes dropping to one of the stern faced guards. Thunder clapped overhead as Steve rubbed his eyes that were irritated from the rain. 

  “Great,” He commented, nodding his head as he pulled his hand away. His eyes were screwed shut in hopes not to get any more water in them. “That’s great.” He grumbled, opening his eyes. Ophelia reached up to his shoulder, patting it twice before letting it rest on the concrete once again. Her eyes squinted when one of the guards started to move, trying to see what he was doing. She was so focused on what the man was doing, she jolted back in fright when the storage room doors suddenly opened. 

  “Hey, what’s in there?” Robin perked up, also noticing the doors opening. 

  “It’s just more boxes.” Dustin told them. Ophelia nodded, watching as the delivery man pushed the trolley into the now open room. 

  “Let me check it out.” Steve told Dustin, reaching his arm up to grab the binoculars blindly. Dustin pulled the binoculars from his eyes, his grip tightening around them. 

  “No! I’m still looking!” Dustin pulled back on the binoculars, trying to get Steve to let go of them. Steve simply slapped his other hand on them, trying to wrestle them away from the younger boy. 

  “Lemme see it.” Steve pressed, pulling harder. Ophelia scooted closer to Robin, not wanting to be hit by Steve’s flailing elbow. A flash of lightning temporarily blinded them as Dustin and Steve continued to tug on the binoculars. 

  “Hold on!” Dustin argued, giving a sharp tug to the binoculars just as Steve let his hands go - making Dustin hit one of the metal pipes, a loud bang sounding over the pounding rain. Ophelia and Robin jumped at the sound, their eyes jumping from Dustin before looking down at the guards. 

  “Shit!” Ophelia cursed when she saw the guards glancing towards their direction, their hands reaching for their large semi-automatic guns. All four gasped, fear making their blood run cold in their veins. Ophelia was almost positive that her heart had stopped beating for a second. 

  “Duck!” Dustin cried as they all dropped to lay down. Ophelia flopped on her back, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her head rested against the slope of the parapet uncomfortably, a dull ache already making itself present in her neck. She had barely noticed that Steve had grabbed her hand tightly in the middle of the mess until she felt the same heat crawling under her skin that she felt when he grabbed her wrist earlier. It was a welcomed contrast from the cold rain pelting her like bullets, but she couldn’t let the sensation distract her from the fact that they could very well die right then and there. 

  “We gotta go,” Steve whispered harshly. His mind raced, trying to figure out how they were going to get themselves out of this situation. “We can hide along that.” He pointed towards the larger structure attached to the roof entrance. He didn’t even wait for them to argue before he started to move, tugging Ophelia along with him. He hadn’t even noticed his hand in hers, he was too occupied with trying not to die. They all awkwardly ran, pressing themselves up against the tin siding of the structure.  

  “I hope this plan works because we don’t have a plan b.” Ophelia panted, letting her head fall back against the wall, her eyes closing. Her chest stung from the panic and running, her lungs burning as they continued to grow greedy for air. She could feel herself shaking, but she wasn’t sure if it was mostly from the cold or her pending death which was rapidly approaching. 

  Nobody said anything as they all tried to calm their wildly beating hearts in hopes to control their loud breathing. The faint but rapid clang of heavy boots hitting the stairs was muffled to their ears, but detectable none-the-less. The heavy door slammed against the tin making them jump. Ophelia pressed the palm of her free hand to her mouth, her heart rate picking right back up. She found herself trying to plead with every higher power there was to just let them make it out of this situation alive, even wishing on the stars she knew were hidden behind the thick black rain clouds. She hoped that the planets and stars were aligned just the right way so that they all could live another day. 

  Thunder clapped, overhead making Ophelia suddenly start praying to Zeus of all people, hoping her name was a good enough reason for the mythical god to help the four of them. Steve squeezed her hand tight, nearly cutting off the blood flow to her fingers, but she didn’t care, she just squeezed his hand back equally as hard. They listened carefully, trying to hear any sign of movement over the rain splattering against the concrete of the roof. 

  It felt like an eternity before they heard the door swing open and slam shut, followed by the sweet sound of heavy boots hitting the metal of the stairs. “We should wait here until we know for sure he’s gone.” Dustin whispered, anxiety filling him, making his mind race. For all he knew, the guard could be waiting to catch them at any second, successfully catching them in his masterplan.

  “Good idea.” Steve nodded. Robin and Ophelia looked at them with hard eyes. 

  “Well then how do we know when to leave? It’s not like he’s standing out in the pouring rain, he can wait there for hours!” Ophelia pointed out a flaw in Dustin’s wait-it-out plan. Just as she said that, they heard the guards loudly talking to each other in Russian, their voices booming over the rain. Dustin smiled at his sister. 

  “That’s how we know.” He remarked, darting towards the door. She rolled her eyes as the rest of them moved after him, their hearts still racing a mile a minute. They filed into the stairwell, their panting breaths echoing off the wall along with the squishes and squeaks of their sneakers against the clean floors. They were all drenched from head to toe, their clothes a soaking mess that clung to their skin uncomfortably. Ophelia’s hair hung in clumps around her head, a few clumps sticking to the back of her neck and allowing water to trail down her dry back. For the most part, Ophelia, Dustin and Robin’s clothes were somewhat dry thanks to their raincoats protecting them; the protection of the rubber coats stopped the second the Russian guards discovered their presence, their hoods sliding off their heads, their unbuttoned jackets flopping open to expose them to the cold rain. 

  “Well, I think we found your Russians.” Robin declared the second they reached the back corridors that connected all the stores to the loading dock. She glanced between Steve and Dustin as they all rushed back to Scoops, wanting to be safe once again. Steve continued to hold Ophelia’s hand, tugging her along behind him as he sped walked to Scoops. Robin glanced at their intertwined hands, sharing a look with Dustin who also noticed. 

***

   Robin was long gone, having biked home so that she could sleep off the memory of nearly dying, something the other three had unfortunately faced twice before. Dustin retreated to Ophelia’s car, but forced her and Steve to get his Camp Know Where hat that he accidentally left behind in the backroom of Scoops. Ophelia and Steve walked in silence, Steve’s mind wrapped up in trying to figure out if he actually liked her. “So, that was kinda scary earlier, huh?” Steve asked, his voice coming out squeakier than he wanted, as he pulled the door to the outside open, the sound of raindrops hitting the wet pavement meeting their ears. 

  “Yeah, just a little,” Ophelia nodded. She had sensed his rigidity around her. It was like he was constantly on edge, overthinking everything he did. She felt fear settle into her chest at the thought that he had figured her feelings for her. He was probably trying to figure out how to let her down gently or how she could have possibly misread his signs of friendship for something more. “We’ve almost died a lot of times, but this is the first time we’ve almost died from guns.” She tried to carry on the conversation as if her heart wasn’t threatening to rip itself in half. 

  Stepping into the pouring rain, their barely dry clothes were instantly wet again, weighing down on them along with the crushing silence beating between them like a pulse. Even with the cold rain drops pelting them and thunder rolling over their heads, they still took their time walking to their respective cars. Despite the suffocating silence that bathed them, they still wanted to spend time together. “I don’t think this is a good idea - not after what happened on the roof.” Steve suddenly stopped, turning to face her. Ophelia dug her heels into the ground, whirling around to face him with furrowed brows. He didn’t know what prompted him to say that, the thought of not wanting her to get hurt pressing itself to the forefront of his brain - begging for attention.  

  They both ignored the raindrops rolling down their faces at high speeds and the rain beating at their faces, their eyes blinking rapidly. “What do you mean? You don’t want to figure out what they’re doing anymore?” She asked, confused. Steve was stubborn, he never gave up on anything. It wasn’t like him to back out of something. 

  Steve shook his head, water spraying from his hair at the action like a dog. “No, no,” He breathed out so softly Ophelia almost didn’t hear it over the rain. “No, I don’t want you to be involved in this anymore.” He told her, gesturing his hands in the small space between them. They stood so close, you could barely fit another person between them. Ophelia blinked at him, her mouth opening and closing as she processed what he had just said. 

  “Why not? If you haven’t noticed, I’ve dealt with things a lot scarier than Russians.” She shot back, her hands flying through the air. They had been through so much the past two years, they had been through hell and back and there was no way she was going to bow out at Russians. Last time she checked, they weren’t some unknown force from another dimension.

  “Did you not see the giant semi-automatics they were holding Ophelia? That’s a lot harder to avoid than a monster,” Steve’s voice boomed, his blood pressure building. He didn’t want her to get hurt; he didn’t want her to end up with a bullet in her. He wanted her safe, far away from this. Monsters were one thing, but these monsters had guns and a ruthless urge to kill. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.” He admitted, his voice quieter, but scratchy - realization hitting him. He felt like he had been hit by a tonne of bricks. The world was spinning around him like he was standing on a spinning top that was spinning out of control. His stomach churned, making him want to throw up, but the dizziness made him feel like he was going to pass out. He liked her. Here he stood, in a deserted parking lot with rain pounding down on him, starting a fight with her because he liked her. 

  Steve watched her face, a mixture of sadness, hurt and anger perfectly blended to match the storm swirling overhead. She chuckled dryly, shaking her head as she folded her arms over her chest. Licking her lips, she set her watery, but hard eyes on Steve who seemed to be caught up in his own thoughts. “You don’t want me to get hurt,” She echoed like she couldn’t believe the words he spoke. “Do you not remember who saved you from being killed from demodogs and Billy Hargrove last year? Oh, yeah! That’s right,” Her tone picked up to fake enthusiasm. “It was me.” Her tone dropped dangerously. 

  “Billy was different and you ended up right next to me on that floor, Ophelia,” He reminded her, his voice raising as well, his voice strained. “I can’t do that again, I can’t see you laying there barely hanging on to consciousness again!” His body shook as he screamed into the night. He was screaming out silently, hoping that she could hear what he was trying to tell her. 

  “And you think I want to see you being beaten to a pulp again? No, but I’m not going to try and stop you from potentially saving the world again and you shouldn’t try to stop me!” She screamed back. She was trying to get him to hear her, to hear her true meaning in the words that she spoke. 

  “I can take care of myself, you-” He cut himself off, his mind stopping his mouth from talking before he put his foot in his mouth. “You-” He tried to come up with something else quickly, knowing that what he wanted to say was a complete lie. She could take care of herself. She had proven that multiple times. “You-” He tried again, but she cut him off with a stressed cry. 

  “I- What, Steve,” She asked, her eyes dancing with fire despite the water that pooled in them, trying desperately to smother the fire. “I can’t defend myself? I can’t take care of myself, huh,” She asked, choking back a little sob as her heart pulled itself apart slowly. She had always been undermined, nobody letting her do anything because she wasn’t strong enough, because she was just a little fragile thing that would break if the wind blew too hard. She listened to his silence, his eyes darting to the wet pavement guiltily. “God Steve! I thought that you of all people wouldn’t look at me like that, but I guess you’re just like everyone else.” She spat, tears finally breaking through the wall, sliding down her cheeks along with the rain. 

  Steve noticed instantly, his heart feeling like it was being held together by a single thin string that was seconds away from snapping at the sight of the tears. “No, Ophelia, that wasn’t what I wanted to say-” She cut him off once again. 

  “Then tell me,” She stated, sniffling slightly. “Tell me what you don’t think of me like a porcelain doll that will crack at the softest touch,” She prompted him. Silence banged like the thunder over their heads. Steve’s mouth hung open, wanting to say something, but he couldn’t, his mind blank. He really didn’t see why she couldn’t continue this with them other than the fact that he likes her and will go insane if something happened to her, but he couldn’t say that. Not yet at least. “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” She muttered bitterly, wiping at her face. “Think what you want, Harrington-” She spat his name as if it were a bad taste in her mouth, sending a dagger into his heart - severing the string holding it together. “I’m doing this whether you like it or not.” She told him, turning on her heel and speed walking towards her car where Dustin sat.

  Steve stood there, hair hanging in his face as he watched her. The warning Robin gave him earlier echoing through his head. “If you don’t figure them out fast, you’re going to mess up.” Steve sighed, kicking the ground and walking to his dark car. His thoughts were consumed by Ophelia, wondering how he was going to fix this and his new found feelings for her. He had always felt it, he just finally realized it. Ophelia Henderson could take anything she wanted from him, even his beating heart from his chest, and leave and Steve would just be happy to see her smile. 

 She was always there for him. She gave him shelter when his dad and him were fighting about College and he didn’t feel safe to be home for weeks. She held him, gave him food, cared for him when his parents wouldn’t. When he felt like he was losing everything, like he was drowning, she was the one keeping him afloat, keeping his head above water. She was the reason his head was still above the rising water levels of his life. She was the reason he was still hanging onto hope that his life will get better. It didn’t matter if she wasn’t able to protect herself (which he knew full well that she could), he’d still rather give his life for her because she’s saved his life more than once and he knows that she’d do it all over again, even if it meant giving her life for him. She was the reason he was still there, being able to be there for Dustin. She pulled him out of his darkest time, of the period of his life where he honestly couldn’t picture himself in five years because he thought he’d be dead. He didn’t understand how he couldn’t have realized his feelings sooner, how he so clearly liked her that even Dustin noticed it before him. He could have avoided doing the one thing he never wanted to do: hurt Ophelia.

[duskastormgrove]

SSO February Prompt Day 14: Your Valentine

something different for this prompt, i decided to write and post something for the first time in 6 years!

this is a oneshot about my oc making a gift for ydris, i had intended for it to be able to be interpreted as platonic but uhhh that didn’t happen! anyway don’t razz me too hard im out of practice.

This was not nearly enough bee balm. Duska had thought her crafting larder well stocked but while she had flax coming out of her ears her supply of bee balm meant the dye would not nearly be purple enough. She had a full day of stutching, crimping and brushing the flax and spinning it into thread, there was no way she could spare the time to grab more. However, Duska was lucky enough to have very loyal (and very bored) friends, and her first instinct was to pull up her chat with Alex.

D: girl help

A: what you need bb

D: bee balm

D: as much as you can carry

A: can I ask what for?

D: valentine’s gift I’m making

A: :o

A: omw

True to her word, Alex was in Valedale and jogging to the workshop within the hour. In her arms was a bundle of bee balm and her fingers were faintly green from furiously yanking up the stems.

“You’re a lifesaver Alex,”Duska groaned in relief, immediately relieving her friend of her burden and starting to strip the blossoms from the stems.

“Least I could do considering you helped me ask Maya out last Christmas!” Alex hoisted herself up onto the only uncluttered workbench to watch Duska work. She was silent for all of thirty seconds before the prodding began, “sooooo, who’s the lucky person?”

Duska pointedly ignored her and threw the flowers into a boiling pot. She stirred and hummed in a satisfied way when the violet colour began to bleed into the water. She didn’t look up when Alex came to stand behind her and look into the pot as well. Eventually Duska banged the spoon on the side of the pot and dropped it onto the bench.

“You’re thinking too hard, I can see the smoke coming out of your ears,” she snapped, jabbing a finger at Alex’s forehead.

“It’s just- the colour looked familiar but like, I don’t want to assume or anything but uh… it’s circus bae, right?”

“Please. Never call him that again I feel part of me die when you do,” Duska moaned, rubbing her temples. “But yes, I’m making a new ringmaster’s jacket for Ydris. I felt bad I scorched his usual one.”

“When he was keeping Concorde prisoner and turned you into a 5 carat Lusitano?”

“You know it wasn’t out of malice, Alex. It’s hard to explain but when he talked about Pandoria under threat from Garnok he seemed so hopeless and scared. I really think he was desperate and taking desperate measures.”

Alex was quiet for a while and sat herself back on the workbench. Duska put the lid on the pot and waited until it started rattling before she turned the heat down to a simmer. Another hour or so and she could start straining the colour away from the flowers. In the meantime she could stutch more flax and get it ready to be spun on the wheel. She might even have time to make cloth on the loom today!

“Is this the part where you beat the shit out of the plants?” Alex asked, swinging her legs in excitement, “Can I help out? Please? I’ll beat it up so good I promise!” Duska sighed but laid the stems over the board and showed Alex how to beat the fibres out properly with the stutching stick. Soon the Lightning Circle Rider was happily smacking the flax and Duska could sit at the wheel and start spinning lengths of thread from the flax she’d stutched, crimped and brushed out earlier. The sounds of the wheel turning and the steady thumpthumpthump of Alex working away were almost soothing to Duska’s ears. Alex was a chatty type of friend, moreso than Lisa or Anne but there was no such thing as an uncomfortable silence with her, simply working in the same room was enough for her, especially if she thought she was being helpful.

“All finished!” Alex proclaimed as she ran the last of the coarse flax through the brush, “Can I do anything else Dus?”

“Nothing that I can think of,” Duska said regretfully, “thanks so much for today, I really appreciate it.”

“Eh, that’s what pals are for!” Alex said, slapping a hand on Duska’s shoulder and went to leave the workshop, “I’ll see you at the Galentine’s trail ride!” Duska waved fondly and rolled her shoulders before hunching back over the spinning wheel, just an hour or so more and she could move to the loom, another backbreaker.

“Oh and Duska?” Duska looked up from the wheel, to see Alex’s face, smiling but with a worried crease to her brow, “Be careful alright?”

 ---------------------

“Sorry I’m late Daxton, took forever to load these screens onto Clover’s back, nearly dropped them in the Hollow Woods too!” Duska hipchecked the door to Daxton’s shop open and sidled in sideways with the two enormous screens she had prepared in advance. Silk, for the inside of the jacket, had a fairly straightforward dyeing process that would lead to a nice pattern. For this one in particular she only needed two screens but she also needed dye baths and a silk dyeing setup she simply didn’t have. This is where Daxton came in. The anxious tailor had a delightful array of fancy tailor tools and was willing to help her in return for all the deliveries and favours she’d done for him in the last two years.

“Don’t worry, things are slow today,” Daxton reassured her as he grabbed the other side of the screens and helped Duska carry them to the back, “Give me a second I want to clean these up, go check those fabric samples on the desk and make sure they’re the colours you want.” Duska did as instructed, while Daxton polished the screens off with a cloth that reminded her of a cloth she used to scrub the dust off of her horses before a show.

“All good, these are exactly what I’m looking for,” Duska said, laying the fabric down and grabbing a roll of silk material to lay across the rack. She taped it flat and Daxton lay the screen over it, double-checking the placement before he grabbed the bottle of dye. The purple dye went on first and Daxton dragged a large squeegee across the screen to spread it evenly onto the silk. When he moved the screen to the next spot Duska could see the purple pattern, with white blank spaces waiting for the next dye.

“Oh fuck yeah this looks awesome Dax!” she exclaimed and the tailor shushed her.

“Please! I need to concentrate or something awful might happen!” Not willing to take a chance on whether or not this was Daxton’s paranoia at work or an actual possibility, Duska kept silent and simply hovered over his shoulder and watched until the fabric was covered in purple dye.

“Next screen,” Daxton said, wiping sweat from his forehead. Duska hurried to remove the old one and set up the new one. She felt strangely useless here, with Daxton in his element and blasting through silk like no one’s business. This time the gold dye was poured on, and it filled the blank spaces the first screen had left. By the time Daxton reached the end of the roll it was filled entirely with the repeating pattern and Duska was waiting anxiously with a glass of water.

“Aideen’s light, Dax! This is perfect!”

“Okay, we’ll wait until it dries and then you can take it home!” Daxton readjusted his thick glasses to admire his handiwork and gratefully took the glass, “What are you making with this anyway?”

“Oh it’s a Valentine’s day gift.”

The colour drained from Daxton’s face and the hand holding his water began to tremble.

“Jeepers, glad you didn’t tell me it was so important, I would’ve messed it up for sure!”

 -------------------------

It wasn’t unusual for Farah to find her chief apprentice clattering around in the workshop before dawn. Duska was a hard worker and liked to get the orders done and delivered early to free up the rest of her day. She was a busy woman from what Farah saw of her zooming around on various horses and doing chores for residents of Valedale. What was unusual, was the amount of swearing coming from down by the river.

“Everything okay here?” she asked cautiously. Duska looked up, several pins hanging from her mouth and fabric aggressively clutched in her hands.

“It’s fine. It’s… swell.”

“Not sure I believe that one,” Farah laughed, feeling it was safe to approach her apprentice, “Let me in there, I can help out, are we doing a jacket?” She might have felt bad for intruding but Duska’s immediate look of relief assuaged those worries.

“It’s the lapels, I’m stuggling with them, if you could fix them I could finally start the epaulettes?” Duska asked hopefully.

“No problem, it’s a beautiful jacket so far, I love the silk pattern!”

“Thanks, Daxton helped me out with it, it turned out exactly how I wanted,” Duska explained as she went around the back of the mannequin to start sewing the golden fringed epaulettes onto the shoulders, “This is the first time I’ve made a Valentine’s gift, I’m… admittedly a little stressed about it.” Farah raised an eyebrow.

“It’s a lot of effort for a Valentine’s gift.”

“Well, he doesn’t celebrate Christmas, and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have a birthday.”

“He… doesn’t-”

“Don’t worry about it. Just know this is the best time for a gift.” Farah didn’t quite know how to respond so she simply continued on with the lapels in silence. Well, almost silence. Her grandmother always sang while she worked so Farah had picked up the habit too. If she listened carefully after a while she could hear Duska quietly humming along. The two of them finished their respective tasks fairly quickly, and stood back to look at the whole piece together.

“Looks good! Just the cuffs and buttons left yeah? I can help with them if you’d like?” Farah offered, but Duska shook her head.

“I want to do the finishing touches myself, feels a bit more personal that way, if that makes sense?”

“No, no, I get it. Best of luck with it, whoever the lucky person is he’s sure to love it!” Farah turned to go back to the request board, she’d cover the orders today, Duska deserved the day to herself to finish her work. Farah couldn’t help but wonder who such an extravagant ringmaster’s jacket would be meant for.

 -----------------------

February 14th. Now or never. Duska had been tense all morning, and now as she was carefully packing the box into her delivery satchel she almost felt queasy with nerves. This wasn’t such a big deal, the jacket was nice! Ydris wasn’t going to blast her to dust because she gave him a gift, was he? At worst he’d treat it the same as Isebell’s Yule gift and simply not open it. That would almost be preferable. It was still early in the morning so maybe she could simply drop the package into the delivery box and take off before she was noticed. That was a pretty solid plan, she’d have to leave straight away though.

“Duska?”

There goes that plan.

“Sorry Duska, but if you’re heading in that direction could you deliver this herbal tea to Mrs. Holdsworth?” Farah looked contrite enough that Duska loaded the tea into the bag without a word. She was taking Cinder, her beloved soul horse, if any horse was going to give her the confidence she needed it would be the silver dapple mare. With a pat and a cluck of her tongue, Cinder ambled towards the woodland road to Silverglade Village and beyond. A short detour to Moorland wouldn’t add too much time to her journey, not with the way Cinder liked to gallop down the trail leading there. Speaking of which, the warmblood began to toss her head and pull at the bit when they cleared the woods.

“Alright lady, let ‘em have it,”Duska acquiesced, letting the reins go long. Cinder took off with glee, mane flapping, hooves pounding, and nearly jostling Duska right out of the saddle. This pace would definitely keep them on time!

 “I have your tea leaves Mrs. H,” Duska greeted her favourite neighbourhood witch.

“Thank you darling, sit down and have a cup with me why don’t you?” Mrs Holdsworth patted the picnic bench and Duska was sorely tempted to delay the inevitable by having tea and a chat with her.

“Sorry but, I kind of have an important delivery to do, maybe tomorrow?”

“A gift for a paramour?” Mrs. Holdsworth guessed, a little too accurately and with a glint in her eye.

“Ugh. Who told you?”

“Alex is never a great keeper of secrets, but to give her credit she only confided in me because she was worried,” Mrs. Holdsworth propped her cane against the bench and sat down, “Let me have a peek.” Duska reluctantly dismounted and let Cinder graze while she carefully unboxed the jacket and displayed it to the wise old woman.

Mrs. Holdsworth took her time examining the jacket, turning over the sleeves, peering at the stitching over her half rim glasses and rubbing a thumb over the silk lining. Duska almost felt like she was being assessed for an exam. She wanted to get a good grade on the ‘Old Woman Critiques Your Lovesick Tailoring Exam’. A totally fine and normal thing to want.

“Hm!” Mrs. Holdsworth finally proclaimed. She shuffled over to the base of one of the cherry trees in her yard and bent down, grabbing a handful of grass in the shadow of the tree. “Show me the front again?” Duska flipped the jacket and came closer, careful not to let the coattails drag in the dirt. Mrs. Holdsworth threaded the grass through one of the button holes and tied a knot in the stems. She put her hands on her hips and nodded approvingly. “There you are dearie, now off you go, Valentine’s Day waits for no one!”

Duska repacked the jacket cautiously and looked closer at the grass. Instead of simple blades, Mrs. Holdsworth had put a small bouquet of clovers into the topmost button hole.

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

Time was now of the essence. Duska slid off Cinder’s back as soon she skidded to a halt at Nilmer’s Highland and sprinted to the delivery box. Any courage she’d built up on her exhilarating gallop to get there was rapidly deserting her and she wanted to vault back onto Cinder and scamper back to Valedale as fast as humanly possible. Still, ‘fast as humanly possible’ wasn’t enough to outspeed a leisurely Pandorian stroll, as to her horror, the door of the wagon swung open just as the delivery box lid swung closed.

“Little dove!” Ydris boomed, “to what do I owe the pleasure? I don’t recall making an order at Ms. Farah’s quaint little workshop.” Duska couldn’t do anything to intervene as Ydris flipped the lid and dipped his hand in for the box. “Oh?” He hummed, gently tugging at the ribbon, “a gift for the amazing Ydris? I appear to have an admirer, my dove.”

“Sure seems so,” Duska managed through gritted teeth. He smirked at her and started to prod and poke and shake the box, holding it to his ear and tapping a rhythm on the side. “I know you’re not from around here,” Duska intoned heavily, “but it’s considered rude to look at the box and not open it.”

“Silly me! Let me unravel this mystery!” With one yank on the ribbon the knot fell apart, somehow, and Ydris discarded it over his shoulder. He opened the lid, casting that to one side and too khold of the jacket by the lapels, letting the other half of the packaging fall too. “What do we have… here...?”

Duska held her breath as Ydris fell silent. Silence was unnerving with the ringmaster, as was the look he was giving his gift. His face was carefully expressionless as he turned the coat over, gently brushing his hand over the eggplant purple linen. He drifted up to the golden epaulettes, twirling the fringe between his fingers. Finally he opened the jacket, revealing the purple and gold repeating pattern of-

“Panda rays,” he breathed. There was something almost reverent about the way he traced their shapes and Duska felt almost like she shouldn’t be watching him.

“Yeah they’re one of the nicer things I’ve met from Pandoria, sweet little guys,” she responded, looking to fill the awkward quiet. Ydris looked over at her, seeming surprised at her presence, like he’d forgotten she was there. He shook his head and his smirk was back in its usual place.

“One of? Should I consider that a compliment?” Ydris held the jacket out to her and a horrible swooping feeling in her stomach made her hands shake as she took it, but she was quickly relieved of it again as he whipped his old coat off and traded it for his new one in one fluid motion. He pulled the jacket on with a flourish and twirled in a circle to make the tailcoats flare outwards. “How do I look, little dove?”

“I’d trust you to run a circus looking like that,” Duska smiled weakly, feeling relieved that the ringmaster seemed to like it.

“Ah,” Ydris’ twirling came to a stop and he looked suddenly thoughtful, “but I cannot accept this, I have nothing to give you in return.” Duska began to stammer that there was no need to return the favour but Ydris shushed her. “All I can offer, temporarily, is this.”

He took her hand, softly, gently, like a breeze gently tugging it upwards. He leaned forward, all two metres of him, and when she could feel his breath on her skin he snapped his eyes up to meet hers.

“May I?” Thrown by his question Duska just nodded, and he gently pressed his lips to the back of her hand. Her skin tingled and when she dared to look a soft pink mark was glowing on her hand. “Anytime, anywhere, press here and call me, and I’ll come and find you, no matter what, that is a solemn vow, my dove,” Ydris murmured, in a tone far softer than she’d ever heard from him before.

“T-thank you, Ydris, this is… it’s… I’m honoured you’d trust me with this.” Ydris stood upright, straightening his jacket and looking almost flustered.

“Yes well, maybe wear gloves around your druid friends. It’s a one-way ticket to the druid jail under that quaint summer house.”

“Well if that happens you’ll have to come and rescue me like a dashing knight, won’t you?” Ydris smirked but Duska didn’t miss the faint blush that appeared on his cheeks. It almost glowed like the mark he’d left on her.

“I suppose I shall, and I shall do it looking quite splendid, little dove.”

[thebiasrekkers]

Make It Right [BTS Mafia!AU]

Pairings: Jin x OC | Taehyung/Hoseok x OC | Yoongi/Jungkook x OC Genre: BTS Mafia!AU Warnings: Graphic Violence, Heavy Language, Angst, Smut, Slow Burn WC: 2996 “It’s always darkest before the dawn…” It’s a dog-eat-dog world in Seoul, South Korea. One has to dwell in the shadows in order to reach for the light. What are you willing to sacrifice in order to feel the sunlight on your face? What will it take to drag you back into darkness? How long will the journey be to make it right?

AO3 | WP

Chapter 07: Look Here

"Us meeting isn’t just coincidence. Meeting you was what I wanted."

Anastasia took a deep breath as Jimin closed the doors behind her. When the soft click ensued, she stepped forward and noticed that the person sitting behind the large desk was not facing them. In fact, all she could see was the desk, the nameplate (which had traditional Chinese characters on it), and the back of the large leather chair. She cleared her throat in an attempt to get the person’s attention, but when there was no response, she decided to wait patiently until she was acknowledged.

This wasn’t America, after all.

Taking a moment to busy herself in the silence, Anastasia made a note of how big the office was. The floor was made of premium marble and the oak desk was clearly well-polished. There was a set of six black leather chairs, three on each side, around a black and marble topped coffee table. Another black leather chair sat at the head of the table just feet away from the desk situated on a slight riser from the rest. 

It was modestly decorated, dark green curtains framing a set of bay windows and French doors led to an outdoor balcony. A few pictures hung on the wall but there was a hand-embroidered image of a golden jackal situated on black canvas that was framed and hung over the desk. This kept her attention longer than it should have, but she couldn’t tear her gaze from it. Anastasia knew that she’d seen that before somewhere, but less ornate and less prominent. 

She could at least say that it was a lovely piece of artwork.

But where have I seen that from?

“Long time no see, Anastasia,” came a voice suddenly, knocking her out of her thoughts.

Even though she hadn’t meant to, a soft squeak escaped her as she felt her shoulders jump. Anastasia lifted her purse up to her chest, clutching it just a little bit tighter as her eyes focused on where the voice came from. Blinking at the back of the chair at the desk, she watched as it slowly turned. It was like a scene from The Godfather , and when the chair was fully turned around, there in the large leather chair was none other than Kim Seokjin. If he’d been holding a cat, he would have been Claw from Inspector Gadget and then she really would have fallen out.

“W-Wait a minute!” Her eyes practically bugged out of her skull. “Kim Seokjin-ssi, what are you doing here?!”

Pouty lips spread into a knowing smirk, his elbows resting on the arms of the chair while he steepled his fingers. “I work here.” He answered like she’d asked him a math question. “Or, rather, this is my company.”

Anastasia blinked rapidly, her lips opening and closing as a few stammering sounds spilled forth. “What did you say?”

His smile widened further. “I said that this is my company. I own Golden Star.”

She couldn’t believe it. There was no way that he was serious. Seokjin must have cashed in a favor and she was being played a fool. Someone was playing a prank on her! The Kim Seokjin that she knew was a gangster. All of his friends, the ones he called his brothers, were all gangsters. Weren’t they all running around trying to make a name for themselves, getting themselves caught up in the streets?

Her eyes lifted to spy at the art piece of the golden jackal. Their gang was known as The Golden Jackals. Anyone who was even remotely aware of the underground circuit knew of them and was also aware that they were an up and coming group. Their domain was the street, though. At least that was what Jungkook told her when they were still together before they ended their relationship.

So what had changed in that short amount of time? Had they been working on building toward this even back then?

Anastasia suddenly remembered why she was there. She was supposed to undergo an interview to see if she was qualified to be a financial advisor for another company. Not that she had anything against the stock exchange firm she was currently employed with. But she knew that there was limited room for her to grow and to really showcase her skills. Coming from a background that lacked money taught her how to utilize funds and how to properly shift one’s finances to benefit a company and to encourage its growth. This was her chance to finally climb higher and to stabilize herself without worrying about living from paycheck to paycheck.  

But this? There was no way she could have prepared herself for this.

Her moment of shock started to ebb away and she took a breath. Anastasia’s eyes narrowed and she frowned. “No.” 

Seokjin’s smile fell as he canted his head slightly. “What?”

“No way.” She pivoted on her heels and made her way toward the door. “There is absolutely no fucking way .” 

Her hand landed on the door and she began to pull. However, instead of wrenching the door open like she’d anticipated, it held; resisting against her. For a second, all she did was blink - staring at her hand in disbelief. Had she been locked in? Again, she pulled - harder this time, and again, she was met with resistance. 

“What in the hell?” Anastasia began pulling more aggressively, using both hands and all the door did was rattle in response. “What the hell is happening?!” She swiveled around, ready to ream into Seokjin when she saw he was directly behind her. Anastasia let out a scream, pressing a hand to her chest as her back slammed into the door. “Wh-Wh-What do you think you’re doing?!”

Seokjin leaned forward, peering into her face. Her cheeks flushed and she mentally kicked herself for her own body reacting involuntarily. She wasn’t sure if it was because he was so close to her or if it was because she was halfway down the road of embarrassing herself. Or was she already there? Well, whatever the case, Anastasia didn’t appreciate him invading her personal space like that.

“I don’t know what’s funnier,” he said slowly, his eyes never leaving hers, “the fact that you’re spazzing out for no reason or that you’re pulling on a door that you’re supposed to be pushing on.”

“Huh?” 

What had he just said? 

Seokjin reached forward, gripping the handle of the door and he pressed the latch situated at the top. With a gentle push, the door swayed open. Anastasia peered over her shoulder and saw Jimin sitting on the waiting bench, thoroughly engrossed on whatever was on his phone. When the door opened, he looked up and then smiled - giving a pleasant wave to the two of them before going back to his phone. 

All she could do was blink in both parts amazement and disbelief. 

When it looked like Jimin wasn’t going to intervene, she saw Seokjin moving out of the corner of her eye. He reached forward, grabbed the handle, and then pulled the door closed. Anastasia felt it brush against her shoulder blade, her eyes never leaving Seokjin’s profile even as the door closed with a soft click . His arm lingered there a moment longer before he straightened up to his full height. Some of his hair fell across his brow line and the lump that was unknowingly forming in her throat made her even more aware of their close proximity.

Seokjin normally wasn’t the type to invade another person’s bubble like this. At least from what she knew and of the few times they interacted with one another.

Finally, his smile returned and he looked at her. “Now then,” he began, turning to the side and gesturing toward the array of leather chairs with a wide flourish, “if you’d be so kind, can we get this little meeting underway?”

She felt his hand resting at her lower back and Anastasia’s legs moved unconsciously. What in the world was happening, exactly? Well, she couldn’t be sure. But before she could issue a protest, she was sitting at the chair closest to the one at the head of the table. 

“Can I offer you something to drink?” he asked, already making his way toward the area where various liquor decanters were situated. 

“Bourbon if you’ve got it. Whiskey if you don’t.” 

He chuckled while setting aside two glasses. “And if I have neither?”

“Vodka.”

This elicited a sudden laugh from Seokjin and he came back to the table, holding out the glass containing the amber liquid. Two cubes of ice were inside the tumbler and she looked at it before lifting her gaze to give him a curious look. He settled into the chair, his own glass filled with a similarly colored drink. His contained no ice. 

“I remembered that you’re a fan of bourbon. I was just teasing.”

Anastasia pouted, taking a ginger sip of alcohol while secretly thanking him for remembering to pour her drink on the rocks. After taking a moment to appreciate the smoothness of the booze, she set the glass down on the wooden coaster. She crossed one leg over the other, not caring that the toe of her shoe was brushing up against one of the table legs.

“Seokjin-ssi,” she said, her tone as serious as she could manage. He raised a brow at her as he drank. “What is this all about?”

He swallowed, setting his glass down. “I thought you knew what this was about. Isn’t that why you came out here?”

“I came because I was called about a financial advisor position.”

“Well, that certainly hasn’t changed, so what’s the issue?”

Anastasia felt the vein near her temple throbbing. “The issue is that I didn’t know this was your company!” 

“Is that a problem?” He smirked. “I didn’t realize me being the boss was a problem for you.”

“It’s not about you, dammit!” she snapped, her neck flaring up with the steady rise of her anger. “You know of my history with Jungkook and it’s not like I’m completely ignorant to who you guys are.”

Seokjin’s smile fell just a fraction. A thoughtful expression soon replaced it as he crossed his legs. “I thought you and Jungkook broke up mutually and are still on good terms.” He looked at her, a single brow raising. “Is that not the case?”

“Well, no, we’re still friends...but--”

“And if it’s the background you’re worried about, you can do some digging if you’d like. Golden Star is a legitimate company, Anastasia.”

“That’s not--”

“Then I guess I’m failing to see what the problem is.” Seokjin folded his hands in his lap. “Care to enlighten me?”

For one of the few times in her life, Anastasia actually had no words. None. It wasn’t like she despised the company of the Golden Jackals. She mostly hung out with Jungkook, Taehyung and Jimin. She could confidently say that they were her friends. Namjoon and Hoseok were nice and Seokjin was always a polite gentleman toward her. There was no real reason for her to be on the defensive.

And yet she still felt like she’d been suckerpunched in the stomach.

She sighed, her hostility deflating as she sank back in the plush leather chair. “Why me?”

Seokjin’s smile returned. “Why not you?”

She scoffed. She couldn’t help herself. “Oh, don’t give me that, Seokjin. You could hire anyone. Especially if you can afford to run your business out of a building like this. It’s almost as big as the company I work for.” Anastasia gave him a pointed look. “I’m one of hundreds of office workers. I literally work from a freaking cubicle. I’m a damn dime a dozen.” Her accent was coming out and she hated it, but she knew that once she got rolling, there was no stopping her. “So why me , Seokjin-ah?”

Anastasia was a professional 99% of the time. It was very rare that she wasn’t, especially when it came to her work. But when the polite form of address was dropped, when honorifics and protocol were thrown out the window, it was when she meant business. She loved her job and she loved the country she was now living in. If it was one thing she wasn’t about to do, it was jeopardize any of that for any reason at any time and not for any one .

A moment of silence passed between them and Seokjin’s arms moved to rest on the arms of the chair. He steepled his fingers again, pressing them against his lips. Anastasia watched him as he tried to formulate the words that she needed to hear. If it was something she wasn’t okay with, her plan was to walk straight out of that office and not look back. Her career meant everything to her. Stability meant everything to her.

She wasn’t in the business of taking risks for no damn reason.

“You’re driven, Anastasia. You’ve always been like that.” He looked at her and she felt her fingers curling into the fabric of her dress pants. “The company you’ve been working for doesn’t know what to do with you. You’ve been with them for five years and three of those five years have been spent here. It’s unheard of for employees starting out to get reassigned to other countries. You’ve clearly got ambition.”

Warmth touched her cheeks and she wasn’t sure what to make of what he was saying. Were they compliments? He wasn’t trying to pull a fast one on her. It simply sounded like he was stating the facts. 

She remained silent as he continued.

“But you’ve hit a point where you’re not going to be able to move forward. You’re smarter than half of your co-workers but because you lack a certain set of connections, you’re at an impasse. You can’t move ahead and you can’t just go back.” Seokjin paused, his smile returning. “What if I told you that you wouldn’t have to worry about that here? I need someone who can keep this company financially on track but who also isn’t afraid to make a few risky moves if it means turning a higher profit.”

His offer was enticing. How could it not be? But while she was in the business of taking risks, that didn’t mean she was going to step out on thin ice if she was confident enough to swim in freezing waters. 

Reaching for her glass, she tried to appear unimpressed with his words. “What’s the pay?” Anastasia pressed the glass to her lips, letting the alcohol gently touch her tongue.

“Ten thousand dollars the first month.”

A mist of alcohol sprayed from her mouth. Anastasia began coughing furiously, her hand slapping her chest in an attempt to open up her airways so she could breathe. When she was able to gather her senses, she looked at Seokjin with eyes as wide as saucers. 

“...what did you just say?”

“And you’ll be getting an additional ten thousand dollar signing bonus.” Seokjin winked. “But that’s because I like you.”

She frowned, coughing one last time as her eyes narrowed. “Stop playing around.”

���I am dead serious.” 

“You’re crazy.”

He shrugged. “I’ve been called that and then some, but I can promise you that I am very much within my right mind on this.” His eyes met hers, the smile gone from his face completely. “So, what do you say? You in or out?”

Anastasia picked up her drink and drained the glass. Once she was finished, she stood up from the seat and looked down at him. “You’re only getting one chance to draw up a proper contract. If it’s not to my satisfaction, you can forget it.”

Seokjin stood, one hand sliding into his pocket. “You’ve got yourself a deal.” He looked like he’d already won and this made the muscle at her jaw tick. “I’ll have it sent to your place and you can look over it at your leisure.”

“Fine.” She slipped her purse over her shoulder and made her way to the door. “You’ve got three days, Kim Seokjin-ssi.” 

Anastasia pushed the latch on the door handle and pushed this time, the door swaying open easily. Jimin seemed to be waiting on her and he slid his phone into his pocket. He smiled at her cheerfully and she immediately puffed her cheeks out defiantly. Ignoring the arm he held out for her, she huffed her way down the hall. 

“I’ll see you in three days, Anastasia D’Angelo,” called Seokjin from down the hall. 

Jimin caught up with her and pressed the button to call the elevator. She knew she wouldn’t be able to get back downstairs without his clearance. But that was the only reason she was even waiting on him. As they stepped into the elevator, she saw Seokjin still standing in the doorway of his office. Just before the doors closed, Anastasia stuck her tongue out at him and she had to ignore the way her heart thumped as he laughed - watching him disappear back into his office.

As Jimin swiped his card, he pressed the main floor button. “Did you have a good talk, Noona?”

She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “Don’t you start,” she warned and he laughed. “You’re in trouble.”

He nodded, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Yes, yes, I know,” he said, gently bumping her shoulder with his own. “Can I buy you dinner to make up for it?”

She folded her arms across her chest and huffed. “Black Bean Noodles or it’s no deal.”

Jimin laughed. “It’s a deal!”

A sigh left her as she side-eyed him, wondering how she wound up in this situation. She certainly couldn’t be mad at Jimin. He was just doing his job. But this?

Well, this was just something she wasn’t really prepared for. But one thing was certain. She would know in three days what her answer was.

Anastasia could play nice until then.

[mzargentum]

Sunshine & Lightning

Warnings: None. | OC’s: Muerlinian Zephyr | Word Count: 3,071

A/N: Part one of holiday fic.

A/N: Because of work, it was kind of rushed, but I did my best.

2 years.

This world has been in darkness.

The Oracle has been dead.

And the Prince has been missing.

But to him, he wasn’t just the Prince...

To Prompto, he was his best friend...his brother...

The blonde hunter had never gotten the chance to meet the woman that gave him the opportunity to meet his closest friend...

And that was painful enough without his disappearance.

The world was in complete peril.But in the chaos of it all, someone rose to take her place to the world to heal the wounds the Usurper had inflicted upon them ...a “New Oracle”, if you will.

An Queen, ostracized by most of the world, now a beckon of what the Oracle stood for...her own sister...the Stormsender’s daughter...his beloved Muerlin...

The world had desperately beseeched the aid of the powerful wizard in the depths of the darkness.

The daemons were raging through cities, hundreds were experiencing a fate worse than death. They needed her...but so did he.

Prompto knew there was more at stake than his own sanity despite the fact that watching her venture from this dusty garage nearly tore his heart in two.

“I’ll be back soon, love”, she said to him during their last embrace.

That was 2 years ago.

He replays this in his head every night he is forced to sleep alone.

The ever so faint smell of her hair that lingers on her untouched pillow churning his stomach.

As captain of this HQ, he was always meant to be in tip top performance and always on his toes...but he often found himself looking toward the road. Hoping one day, he’d catch a glimpse of silver.

                                    _____________________________

It was the depth of winter.

The darkness made this time of year more difficult than the rest.

More and more survivors were growing ill throughout the world.

Refugee camps scrambling to look after their wounded beckoning the aid of the New Oracle.

Hammerhead was no exception.

“Sir!”, a hunter shouted toward their frustrated captain.

“What is it?”

“We’ve lost contact with the team Omega on the far west side!”, he explained in a light panic.

“What?!”, Prompto exclaimed. “Dammit! How long ago did they leave the camp?”

“About an hour ago, sir! I’m afraid they won’t make it much longer. They’ll freeze!”, the hunter explained somberly.

Prompto’s technological skills as well as Cindy’s expert mechanics made generating heat less of a hassle, but they could still only do so much with what little electricity they could scrounge up.

“Okay, let’s gather a search party. Take one of the trucks. I’ll grab one of the generators and join you”, Prompto instructed. “We can’t leave them out there!”

“Yes, sir!”, the hunter acknowledged Prompto’s orders before darting off to gather more hunters.

Prompto sighed lightly. This was going to be a long night.

“Captain Argentum!”, a woman shrieked as she ran up to the blonde captain, stumbling into him in a panic.

“Woah, woah!!”, Prompto attempted to soothe her. “What is it?? What’s going on??”

“The generators...”, the woman panted, “...in the barracks. They’re malfunctioning!”

As if they didn’t have enough problems.

Prompto’s eyes widened in terror as he rose his gaze to the barracks.

Some of his top men were in there, sick because of the cold. Not only that, they had grown to become his friends.

The generator was the only thing keeping them warm and despite he and Cindy’s efforts combined, it was only a matter of time before the worst was to come.

“No, no, no”, Prompto muttered in a light panic. “We can’t let them die in there. Do everything you can to keep them in good health”.

“Y-yes, sir!”, the woman stuttered before rushing back to the barracks.

“Talcott!”, Prompto shouted, eyes still glued on the barracks.

The young man jolted at the sound of Prompto’s voice, it was heavier than usual.

“Mind giving us a hand, buddy? We have men out there who need our help”, the blonde grinned at him.

“You got it!”, the boy beamed as he darted toward his truck.

The captain on his heel.

                                       _________________________

With Talcott at the wheel, Prompto and his men made their way to the last known location of their scavenger team.

Prompto in the passenger seat, trying his best not to appear worried, but his kindness and care toward his men made it very evident to the young man.

“Prompto?”

The indigo-eyed man looked toward his young friend.

“Hm?”

“Do...do you think that everyone will be okay?”

Prompto’s brow forwarded.

“I mean...they’re strong a-and you and Miss Cindy can fix the generators again. We’ve got plenty of medical staff to help out too, right? So...they should all be okay...right?”

Prompto smiled at Talcott’s hopeful optimism.

“Of course they will!”, the man chuckled. “After all, they’ve got me as their captain”.

Talcott laughed at Prompto’s lack of modesty. That clearly hadn’t changed.

And that answer seemed to satisfy the lad, but the captain’s worry was still eminent. 

The world was wide and vast...and cruel.

Especially during these times.

With all that’s happened, he knew it wasn’t possible for him to save everybody...

...he couldn’t even save Noct.

But regardless, he had to try. He couldn’t let his men down.He couldn’t let them die out here.

Not like this.

After what felt like an eternity driving in the snowy blackness of Eos, the team noticed a group of ice bombs congregating toward the mountains off the side of the road.

Which was odd with them normally being native to Cleigne.

What’re they doing here in Duscae?

“Wait!”, Prompto shouted pointing toward small group, “over there!”

The truck came to a screeching halt once Talcott noticed.

The bombs were swarming a group of hunters laying unconscious in the snow.

“GET AWAY FROM THEM, YOU SONS OF BITCHES!!”

Prompto rushed toward his fallen men, the rest of his team following pursuit, as his trusty pistols materialized into his iron grasp.

Taking aim and releasing a heavy barrage of bullets toward the aggressive daemons.

Unfortunately, causing them to begin detonation.

“Let’s make this quick, everybody!”, Prompto instructed his men as they rushed up to join their now bazooka wielding captain in battle. “We can’t let them explode!”

“RIGHT!”, they all said in unison as the whole lot of them began to pilfer through the army of explosive daemons.

They hacked and slashed through a great number of them, but somehow this battle seemed never ending.

“What’s going on?”, a hunter shouted toward his colleagues.

“It’s like more of the more of them we take out, the more that replace them!”, someone else interjected.

“It’s because of the snow”, Prompto affirmed as he began emptying his rifle toward the icy enemies. “This is where they’re strongest”.

“What do we do?!”

“We win! We can’t let our buddies down”, the blonde captain instructed.

“Don’t worry, guys”, his optimistic smile lighting a fire within their spirits, “we’ll make it”.

This burst of optimism was short lived as the galaxy eyed plebe noticed a bomb wandering away from the group.

In the darkness, it was unclear where he could’ve been going until...

“TALCOTT!!!”

Prompto began to dash over to the boy in the stalled truck, desperately trying to bring it back to life which unknowingly caught the attention of a bomb that was already near detonation.

“TALCOTT”, Prompto shrieked in terror, “LOOK OUT!!!”

Finally catching the young man’s attention, Talcott’s eyes became saucers at the gargantuan monster before him.

Nearly the size of the truck and trembling violently.

Prompto desperately sprinted toward his friend, but knew he was much too far away to reach him in time.

The captain was left helpless as the bomb reached maximum size to detonate and was deafened by what sounded like the most thunderous eruption that he had ever witness in all his days.

The force enough to send him flying back toward the snowy ground below.

And then...

Whiteness.

                                           ______________________

The ringing in his ears.

His vision blurred.

Desperately trying to regain his composure, so many voices in his head and what sounded like shooting and flames.

SOMEONE CHECK ON HIM!!! MAKE SURE HE ISN’T INJURED!!!

His brain rattled with the muffled voices. Was he going insane?

THERE ARE MEN OVER HERE AS WELL, ROUND THEM UP AND GET THEM ON THE TRUCK!!!

It was louder.

The ringing was subsiding.

Did this voice in his head have an accent?

He was totally out of it...

“WE MUST BE QUICK HERE!!! MANY OF THEM ARE ON THE BRINK OF DEATH!!! WE CAN’T STAY HERE!!!”

It was so familiar...so...silky...soothing...

“LET’S GIVE THESE ICE-SHITS SOMETHING TO RUN FROM!!!

”Prompto’s eyes widened...it couldn’t be...dammit, he could still barely see, but...

He could at least make out a figure kneeling down beside him.

“Don’t worry, love”, the figure spoke. Clear as day. “I’m here”.

As the blur faded away, Prompto could only believe he was in a dream.

The long streaks of silver...the shimmery bronze cheeks...the warmth of this hand against his cheek...the teal lagoon eyes...

...it couldn’t truly be real...

“...Muerlin?”

That all too familiar smile confirmed it.

“It’s good to see you too, Prom”.

                                       __________________________

Tagging: @completelyinappropriate​ @digitalkanvas​ @glacian-apocalypse​ @aquathemermaidstripper​ @a-new-recipehhh​

[sulevinblade]

SHARE THREE SONGS THAT REMIND YOU OF YOUR OC

Oh, gosh, thank you @anjelica-grey!! I’m sorry I didn’t get to it sooner, and thank you also for the follow (my whole second follower aaaah)! I’m going to do this for Ghilanel Lavellan, my Inquisitor.

1) Rabbit-Hearted Girl (Raise It Up), Florence + The Machine

Ghilanel is not really cut out for this job she’s been thrust into. She’s not an aggressive fighter or leader. Until she started following Cassandra up the mountain, the most time she’d spent holding a sword was testing them for weight and balance after she made them. Now she’s surrounded by professionals who made conscious decisions to engage in this fight and who bring lifetimes of expertise to it in areas like magic and combat and politics. Ghil was a smith. She liked to explore and was a keen observer but once things changed from needing observation to needing action, she was in way, way over her head. That didn’t change the fact that the Inquisition needed a leader and somehow saw her as one, but the idea of letting them down by allowing them to see how completely unprepared she is terrifies her. She’s growing and trying to become the leader the Inquisition needs, but ultimately she’s aware that this may require literally everything she has to give. She never signed up for it but better her than anyone else. Once this is all over, she’ll be expendable again, but they’re still meant for bigger things, but without the Anchor she’s just Ghilanel again.

I look around but I can't find you (Raise it up) If only I could see your face (Raise it up) Instead of rushing towards the skyline (Raise it up) I wish that I could just be brave

I must become a lion hearted girl Ready for a fight Before I make the final sacrifice

2) Texas Stars, Carbon Leaf

This is much more of a reminder song than a song that’s completely accurate to being about her. The sound of it is soft, unassuming, the kind of song that lends itself to being hummed while your hands are busy doing something else, but it also builds to a stronger, hopeful ending. That said, I am someone who gets really into the lyrics of a song and this one hits a lot of points for Ghilanel, especially for the time in between the end of the main game and Trespasser starting. She went from being surrounded by friends who believed, even when she didn’t, that she had what it took to survive and save the world, to rattling around Skyhold with a lot of the people she loved the most gone, including, of course, Solas. Also she genuinely likes stars and constellations. The astrariums were such a wonderful thing.

Look up at the light Have you seen that star before? How quickly dreams can change When constellations are at war

Hey lonestar, it's alright

Did you look up to find You were left behind? Did your heroes and stars fade out?

Have you been let down By a lover, father, or friend? Did the myth of greatness leave your side With no desire to defend?

Did their chariots of fire burn you in the end?

3) Lowlands, The Dream Academy

You thought you were getting out without a Solavellan song? Psyche, no such luck. I love this one for Ghilanel in particular because unlike a lot of the songs on their playlist, this one offers her an ending rather than continued uncertainty until DA4 comes out. (Insert One Fear comic here with, “Romanced Lavellans never getting closure,” in the middle panel.) It’s not a happy ending but right now, it’s the kind of ending she finds the most comfort in. Doing what Solas is asking or allowing his future to come to pass both require more of her than she has left to give, or at least that’s how she sees things right now. Imagining a future where she’s strong enough to walk away and it doesn’t mean the end of the world hurts like hell but it beats pretty much every alternative she can conceive of. All good things must come to an end eventually, right? 

She’ll learn better. Maybe.

The low pressure band had broken up but not let go As holy stormy Monday broke out on the streets below If not to hear your voice is still the thing I can't replace Somehow I can always see your face

In the lowlands

I rise up in the evening and rebuild a heart of stone All around the border where your memories have grown 'Til someone told me don't you know there is no hiding place Not until you meet it face to face

In the lowlands [....]

I can see a big bright continent where fear does not exist Where you could walk away from me and I would not resist And I won't be coming back again to see where we went wrong Never more to hear your siren song

Honorable mentions to, “I Know I’m a Wolf,” Young Heretics (WOLVES AND RABBITS WOLVES AND RABBITS), and, “One Love,” Mariana’s Trench.

Not sure who to tag but hopefully @gremlinquisitor, @haloneshiral, and @fortheloveofsolas would like to play? If not that’s fine too!!

[balorclubbabe]

Right Here

Sami Zayn/OC (smut): You and Sami are best friends and get into an argument over him not liking the guy you’re seeing. But when you get dumped, he’s there to comfort you and later on, your true feelings for each other come out. (Slightly fluffy as well, because come on, Sami Zayn is sweet lil’ ball of sunshine.)

Tagging: the lovely @xfirespritex

I’m so excited to finally be posting this, I hope you guys like it!

Do you ever have one of those moments where you look back on your entire day and wonder, “How the fuck did I end up here?”

Because that’s what I was in the midst of doing; sitting on a cushioned bar stool, absentmindedly clicking the heel of my stiletto against the metal frame. All while I was sipping what was maybe my third or fourth alcoholic beverage of the evening.

Paired with the simple black cocktail dress with a cutout back that stopped just above the knees, I pretty much stuck out like a sore thumb. The bar around me wasn’t rundown or full of big scary leather clad bikers or anything like that, but amongst the other people in the room, I was the only one in such an outfit.

There was a guy with dark hair a couple of stools down who had been paying for my drinks ever since I made my way into the dive. Of course he wasn’t always sitting at the bar, he had started across the room and had been gradually moving in closer and closer with each drink, probably figuring that this was the easiest way into my panties. The fact that I had flashed him a cute smile when I walked in definitely helped me get more drinks than I probably should have had.

Considering the fact that the bar is a few blocks away from my apartment, I had been here before, just not in this kind of attire or alone at all for that matter. Usually I’d be here with my friends/co-workers to unwind, having a few drinks and plenty of laughs. A person that I always came here with no matter what was Sami Zayn, my roommate and best friend who I was currently avoiding, hence my presence here instead of our apartment.

We had gotten into a huge fight earlier and I definitely needed to be fairly drunk before I could even think about facing him. Hell, maybe if I had stayed out late enough he’d be asleep and I could slip back inside without him noticing.

Sami and I usually got along very well both as co-workers and roommates; he paid his half of the rent on time, always cleaned up after himself, didn’t snore, pretty much anything you could want when you live with someone. I used to have, well I guess currently have a huge crush on the redhead, but for the sake of not jeopardizing our friendship and working relationship, I kept it to myself. We had known each other for a few years now and were practically attached at the hip, making my feelings all the harder to suppress. Which is why normally any guy I dated would last no more than a few months at the most. Not gonna lie, some of them were tools, while some of them were actually genuinely sweet guys, but it all boiled down to the fact that none of them were Sami.

Normally I’d be against rooming with someone that you work with, but Sami and I were so close that I would never in a million years want to live with anyone else. Until about a month ago, right around the time when Greg came into the picture. I guess that’s when I noticed things were becoming…odd between Sami and I.

I was on my way out of the local coffee shop when I experienced my first encounter with Greg; he had bumped into me and, rather boldly may I add, asked for my number right off the bat. He was a banker or an accountant or something, always wearing nice suits and expensive-looking watches, and full of himself like you wouldn’t even believe someone could possibly be. We had been on a few dates and I tried to make it clear that I wasn’t looking for a one-night stand or a random hookup, which I guess is what he was after the whole time. That was probably the reason that things didn’t quite work out. Well, that and the sinking feeling I had that the “Jessica” who constantly texted him wasn’t actually his “cousin”.

Sami never liked Greg from the moment he met him. It was our second date when he came to pick me up that Sami was insistent on meeting him before we left, “I just want to make sure he’s not some kind of creep,” he had said in a half-teasing manner. I didn’t mind too much though, Sami was always pretty protective of me.

The exchange was fairly pleasant between the two, handshakes and all, but when I had gotten home, I was greeted with Sami who looked like he had previously been asleep on the couch, probably trying to wait up for me. “Hope you had fun.” He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, getting up to go to his bedroom.

When I rambled on about how well the date had seemed to go and how sweet of a guy Greg had been he responded with a shrug, muttering, “He’s alright.” under his breath. After that every time Greg came around it was nothing but curt, passive aggressive comments from Sami, which was unlike him considering how personable and kind he was towards everyone he met.

Tonight had been the breaking point though, and I’m not really sure what caused it or why. I was getting ready, having just applied my lipstick in the bathroom mirror and triple checking that my hair fell around my shoulders in just the right way. I was meeting Greg at a fancy Italian restaurant and I wanted to look my best, which is why I opted to wear one of my favorite dresses.

Sami stood in the doorway, sighing heavily, almost as if he was hesitating on whether to speak or not. “He’s no good for you, you know. I don’t know what you could possibly see in a guy like that.”

I whipped around to face him, my eyes narrowed in his direction. Normally I wasn’t so quick to anger, but I was over him constantly harping on and on about this. “Can I ask what the hell your problem is with Greg? He’s a good guy and he’s been nothing but nice to you.”

Sami scoffed, arms crossed over his broad, bare chest. He was probably waiting to use the shower as I preened before the mirror. “The dude’s a total jerk! He’s completely full of himself!”

“You’re being ridiculous. Please tell me what he’s done that makes him such a jerk?” My hands were on my hips now, waiting for some kind of explanation or reasoning from him. He didn’t even know Greg and I understand looking out for me, but he was taking this way too far.

“Are you fucking blind!? Can’t you see what an asshole this guy is!?”

“The only one being an asshole right now is you, Sami! I don’t know why you’re acting like this!” I tried not to let him see that he had rattled me slightly. I could tell he was annoyed but I never expected him to raise his voice.

His jaw was clenched, his eyebrows knitted together in clear frustration. We had never yelled at each other like this. “Fine! When he dumps you, I hope you don’t plan on running and crying to me. You know, considering the fact that I’m such an asshole.”

“Oh believe me, I wouldn’t fucking dream of it!” Unable to stand to being around him another second, I stormed out of the apartment and slammed the door shut behind me for good measure.

After waiting around at the restaurant for nearly half an hour, I received a short text from Greg.

Hey babe, I’m really sorry but I don’t think this is working out. Things are just moving way too slow for me.

I didn’t even bother to demand a reason from him as I left the restaurant, trying not to glance at the sympathetic face of the waitress or the maître d as I did so. They must have had a hunch that I got stood up by my date. The thought of going home and facing Sami right now was too much for me; while I’m sure he meant well I couldn’t exactly take him adding insult to injury at the moment.

So that’s how I wound up here; overdressed and way too drunk for my own good.

The guy who had been buying my drinks (I think he said his name was Justin?) was now sitting right next to me, his hand reaching out to run along my arm. “One more, babe?”

Before I could answer, I heard someone saying my name from behind and I turned around to find Sami, a look of confusion on his face. He was dressed simply in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, his red hair visible, having chosen to forgo his hat tonight. “What are you doing here?”

I lifted my glass of orange-yellow liquid (I’m pretty sure it was a Whiskey Sour this time around) and shrugged my shoulders. “Drinking.”

His eyes grew angry, but not towards me. They darted around the room, looking for Greg no doubt. “That piece of shit is letting you get wasted by yourself? Where the hell is he?” Sami demanded.

Rolling my eyes, I downed the rest of my beverage, eyes turning to the dark-haired stranger next to me. I batted my eyelashes at him, my fingers dancing along the back of his hand, as if to silently say, “One more?”.

“Justin” or whatever his name was smirked, his hand that was rubbing my arm traveling along my shoulders and down my back, fingers moving along my spine. “I’ll get you another babe, then we can get outta here. My place isn’t far.” Safe to say, I never had any intention of going home with the guy whatsoever, but I guess he and I were on different pages.

Sami spun around, eyes like daggers as he took a step towards us, “Don’t even think about it buddy. And if that hand moves another inch lower I’ll fucking rip it off.”

Justin immediately put his hands up in front of himself defensively and stood up, slowly backing away, disappearing into the crowd at the back of the bar. Clearly getting the shit kicked out of him over some girl wasn’t something he planned on happening during his night out.

“What are you even doing here Sami?” I let out a sigh, knowing I’d have to pay for any more drinks I’d be having.

Sami answered simply, “Needed a drink,” but was still clearly angry as his eyes danced over each of the patrons at the bar, just waiting until he spotted his target. “Stop changing the subject, where is he?”

“Well Sami, if you MUST know Greg isn’t here. He dumped me.” I leaned forward, hoping to catch the bartender’s attention.

His eyes shot back to me, the look on his face somewhat sympathetic. “Wait, he did what? Shit, I’m sorry.”

I let out a bitter laugh as Sami shook his head at the bartender, mouthing the word “No” to him. Guess my fun for the night was officially over. “No you’re not,” I huffed, adjusting on my stool so I was facing him. “You never liked him.”

Sami sighed, “Just because I didn’t like the guy doesn’t mean I’m happy that you’re upset,” and took my arm, tugging me off of the barstool, making sure I was steady in my heels before moving. “C’mon, we’re going home.”

I scoffed as he pulled me along with very little effort on his part considering I had the grace of a toddler trying to walk for the first time. “Why? So you get to have your great, big “I told you so” moment that you’ve been dying for? Because I don’t want to hear it.”

Sami raised an eyebrow at me as we walked to his car parked in front of the building. “No, because you’re drunk and I want to make sure you’re okay.” He ushered me into the passenger seat before moving to the driver’s side. ”This has nothing to do with that jerk.”

I stayed quiet as we drove, only breaking the silence to mumble under my breath, “He is kind of a jerk, isn’t he?”

Sami glanced at me from the corner of his eye, chuckling. “Yeah. Yeah he is,” and put the vehicle in park once we pulled up to our building. “Lets get you inside, ok?”

I nodded as Sami helped me up the single flight of stairs and through the front door, where I soon collapsed onto the living room couch, kicking my heels off.

Sami sat down, gently rubbing my back as I felt my bottom lip begin to tremble, a small fit of sobs escaping from my lips. I felt stupid, humiliated, and about a dozen other words that refused to come to mind.

“Oh sweetheart, come here.” He pulled me close so that my face was buried into his chest, no doubt smearing some make-up off onto his shirt. I felt him lean his chin in my hair, planting a kiss on top of my head. “Shhh I’m right here. It’ll be all right. He didn’t deserve you. Hell, he’s lucky I don’t track him down and beat the shit out of him for doing this to you,”

After a few minutes of silence, he nudged me gently. “Go get out of that dress and get comfortable, ok? We’re gonna watch a movie or something. You’re not allowed to be sad anymore tonight.”

Reluctantly moving out of his warm embrace, I stood up and dragged myself down the hall and into my bedroom. Glancing at the mirror on my wall, I saw just how much of a mess I really was. I wiped the specks of black make-up that had converged underneath my eyes, and used a tissue to wipe off the rest of my already faded lipstick. I slid my dress off and threw it in the corner, opting to change into a pair of shorts and one of Sami’s old t-shirts that he let me keep since he had accidentally shrunk it in the wash.

As I was sliding his shirt over my head, the door opened. “Hey I-“

Sami froze, the shirt half over my head, meaning he caught a peek of my bra. (Which was nothing all that special mind you, just a plain old red bra). “S-shit sorry. I uh, was wondering if you were hungry. I was just about to heat up some leftovers and I thought you might want some.”

Normally I’d have turned scarlet by now, but I just shook my head, pulling the shirt on the rest of the way. I don’t know if it was because I was exhausted, drunk, or both. Or maybe because I really didn’t mind too much. “I don’t have much of an appetite right now, Sami. Maybe later. Thanks though.”

Relieved that him walking in on me hadn’t upset me, he nodded and plopped down on the couch with the plate of the leftover Pad Thai he had heated up for himself. “I know it’s not Italian but hey, it’s still pretty good,” he grinned, offering me a forkful, which I politely declined.

It probably wasn’t my brightest idea to have drank all of the alcohol I did without much food in my stomach, but I didn’t want to eat right now at the risk of getting sick for the rest of the evening.

I situated myself next to him on the couch, curling up so that my knees were to my chest, blinking a few times and hoping it would steady my still slightly wobbly vision.

Sami flipped to the hockey game that was already halfway over before turning to me. “So do you feel like telling me what happened?”

I sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, knowing he’d want to talk more about it sooner or later. “I waited at the restaurant for about half an hour and he never showed up. Then he texted me and said that things were moving “too slow”. Aka me not sleeping with him after 4 or 5 dates, I guess. Plus I’m pretty sure he may have been talking to another girl. Or maybe girls, as in plural.”

“What a dick,” Sami managed through a mouthful of noodles. “S’like I said before, a guy like that doesn’t deserve someone as great as you. You’re better off without him.”

I sighed, “I guess you’re right. I just thought…maybe I had found a good guy. Maybe not the right guy but...ugh I don’t know.” I was a liar. Despite not knowing what an asshole Greg was initially, I knew for sure he wasn’t Mr. Right. Maybe I had just said that to remind myself that Sami was the one I wanted.

Sami stopped chewing for a second, his eyes moving from his plate to me. “You’ll find someone, I just know it. Someone who can appreciate how amazing you are.”

My eyes and head hurt, the tears and alcohol exhausting me thoroughly, something which Sami must have taken notice of. “Wanna sleep it off a little? I’ll make you something to eat if you get hungry later.”

I nodded, leaning my head on his shoulder, ready to fall asleep right then and there.

He chuckled, setting his plate on the coffee table. “At least let me help you into bed so you’re comfortable. I’ll even give you a piggy back ride there.” He sang, a grin on his face as he squatted down in front of me.

Sluggishly, I wrapped my arms around his neck from behind, my legs locking loosely around his torso. The smell of his cologne hit me as I inhaled, burying my face into his shoulder as he carried me to my bedroom, lowering me onto the bed. “And there we go. Yell for me if you need something ok?”

Before he could walk away, I grabbed his arm. I wasn’t sure what I was thinking, normally not being anywhere near this bold. “Sami? Could you stay with me? Please?”

Sami cleared his throat, “I uh…don’t know if I should.” He gently placed his own hand over mine, which was still tightly gripping him.

“I just…I don’t want to be alone right now. Please Sami? I…I really need you.” I felt a lump in my throat as I spoke. I wasn’t sure exactly why I was getting choked up, but the idea of me being alone right now was too much.

Sami’s face softened as he climbed into bed with me, laying on his back and allowing me to lean my head on his chest. “Of course. I’m right here, it’s all gonna be alright.” His hand rubbed my lower back in small circles, as he would softly mutter comforting words every so often.

We had fallen asleep on the couch together before after watching a movie or after a long car ride together, usually my head leaning against his shoulder, but never had we gotten so closely intimate before. I don’t think he’d ever done so much as sat on my bed while waiting for me to throw my jacket on or search for my shoes before going out. And although the feeling was foreign, having his arm tightly wrapped around me surprisingly didn’t make me feel nervous.

I felt him shift underneath my touch as my fingers danced up his chest, stroking his bearded cheek. I don’t know what it was about his presence right now, but the fact that he was actually in my bed next to me just felt so right. “Hey Sami?”

He glanced down at me, lips brushing my fingertips as they accidentally grazed against his mouth. “Hm?”

I scooted up slightly so that our faces were level with each other, opening my mouth so I could tell him what I wanted to do, or even ask him if he’s even ok with it, but all I could do was lean forward and press my lips against his.

I felt him jolt, “Woah, hey um…you probably shouldn’t do that,” he pulled back slightly, his arms still around me so he could only go so far back into the plush pillows. “Not that I didn’t like it, but just uh, you’re really drunk and I don’t want you to…ya know, do something you’re gonna regret.”

I wasn’t sure why I did it or what I had exactly been expecting to happen, but I guess it hadn’t upset me as much as it normally would have. “Sorry. You’re right,” As I closed my eyes, I let out a yawn, fiddling with the soft cotton material of his t-shirt. “I wish I had someone like you to love me, Sami.”

I felt him press a kiss to the top of my head, mumbling my name, “If it means anything, I do love you,” he paused, exhaling, “Just get some rest, sweetheart. I’ll be right here when you wake up,”

I guess what was supposed to be a nap turned into something dangerously close to a coma as I awoke the next morning with a nasty headache and a parched throat. From the corner of my eye, though drawn, I could tell it was light outside of the blinds. I sat up, immediately groaning and sinking back into my comforter when a sharp pain shot through my temple from the abrupt movement.

“Bad hangover, huh?” a familiar voice reached my ears.

I jolted, the movement causing my head to throb again, as I turned to see Sami lying beside me, still in his clothes from the night before.

He chuckled, “Woah, take it easy, it’s just me.” He sat up, cracking his back as he did so. He probably didn’t wake up very long before I did.

“Sorry. Not used to waking up with someone next to me,” I rubbed my hands over my face, grumbling aloud, “What time is it?”

He glanced at the clock on the wall. “Almost 7. You pretty much slept through the night. Feeling hungry?”

I shook my head, slowly sitting up, pushing the blankets off of my legs. “Not really, no. I could definitely go for some coffee though. I feel like shit.”

Sami nodded, “Yeah coffee sounds great right now,” and stood up, heading out of the room. “I’ll go make us some.”

I dragged myself out of bed and made my way to the kitchen, snatching a bottle of water from the fridge and downing half of it to sooth my dry throat.

He shot me a smile before switching on the coffee maker. I swear Sami was a godsend in moments like this when I was without a doubt at my absolute shittiest. Even something as simple as making coffee, which I could easily do myself, I was grateful for.

I licked my dry lips as my eyes met his dark chocolate ones, “Sami I’m really sorry about yesterday. I shouldn’t have gotten upset with you or called you an asshole. You were right about…everything with Greg. I really must have been blind or something not to see that.”

Sami ran a hand over his beard, sighing loudly. “I didn’t want to be right. It was just a feeling I got. Don’t beat yourself up over it, that’s the kind of person you are; you just see the best in people even if they don’t deserve it,” He wrung his hands together. “Like me, for instance. Just because I felt a certain way about the guy didn’t give me the right to act like such a dick. Especially not to you.”

“You were only trying to look out for me Sami and I should have realized that,” I thanked him once he handed me the ceramic mug filled almost to the brim with the piping hot beverage. “I mean, you’re one of the sweetest people I know. You’re always so kind, even to strangers. It should’ve been a red flag in itself when I saw how you felt about him.”

Sami puffed his chest out, “Hey I’m not always so sweet and adorable! I took care of that guy at the bar last night, didn’t I?”

I laughed, squeezing his flexed bicep, “Ah yes of course how could I forget? My knight in shining armor, coming to my rescue and threatening strangers.”

Sami playfully swatted my handed away, “Oh sure you tease now but you were the one who-” he cut himself off, his mouth immediately shutting.

I raised an eyebrow, “What? Oh god, I didn’t do anything stupid while I was drunk, did I?” I let out a groan, holding my head in my hands. I truly didn’t remember everything that happened after Sami swooped in at the bar and helped get me back home. Bits and pieces here and there, but nothing solid was registering in my mind.

“It really wasn’t even that bad.” Sami encouraged, almost pleading for me to drop it. “Really, I didn’t even remember it until now.”

I frowned. “Sami come on, that’s not fair. We tell each other everything.”

Sami let out a breath, “Well right before you fell asleep, you uh...kissed me. I was nervous when you woke up that you’d think something else happened, honestly. Ya know, with me next to you is all.” He was clearly embarrassed.

I mean I was too, but I tried not to let it show too much. “Oh. I mean…that’s not so terrible. Was that all?”

He seemed to hesitate a little bit, and then shook his head. “Yeah, that’s all. Nothing else whatsoever,”

I gave him a look. I felt like he was hiding something, but I figured I’d get it out of him at a later time if he was, “At least I didn’t puke in the bushes outside the bar like someone at Finn’s birthday last year,” I was desperate to change the subject at this point, and I could tell he was too.

Sami gasped, “Hey! I was peer pressured into taking those last few shots and you know it!”

I laughed, “I had to practically drag you into the car too. Guess that makes us even now, huh? I saved you from busting your ass in the parking lot and you saved me from some creep last night.”

Sami ruffled my hair, “In fairness, you can normally handle yourself.”

Rolling my eyes, I took another sip of coffee and smoothed my hair back down with my free hand. “Knock it off, my bedhead is already bad enough,”

Sami looked like he was about to speak again, but instead he finished his coffee and placed his mug in the sink. “I’m uh, gonna go shower and stuff,” leaving me alone with my hangover.

I took my time in finishing my own coffee, allowing myself to finally wake up a little more before swallowing a few aspirin, something I wish I were smart or sober enough to do last night before passing out.

As I sat at the kitchen table, idly glancing through social media on my phone, my mind just wouldn’t stop itself from conjuring up the image of Sami in the shower. I was no stranger to what he looked like without a shirt, both from work and the fact that we were roommates, and hell I had even caught him in his underwear a few times. I absentmindedly chewed my bottom lip, a small part of me mentally scolding myself for the dirty thoughts. I sure as hell shouldn’t be picturing my best friend in the shower, wet and naked. And I especially shouldn’t be wondering what would happen if I had joined him, you know, just to help him wash up. And I definitely shouldn’t be thinking about my hands wandering down his chest, lower and lower until they-

The sound of soft footsteps echoed against the tile and I found myself snapping out of my daydream as Sami entered the kitchen again. And fuck, all he was wearing were those gray sweatpants, the ones that I could clearly see the outline of his lower half through. I immediately got up to wash my mug, mainly so my eyes wouldn’t wander any lower than they should.

Sami came up next to me, leaning against the counter as I rinsed the two mugs and the bowl from his leftovers last night. “It was my turn to wash the dishes, you know.” From the corner of my eye I can see small water droplets scattered along his chest, dripping down towards his stomach, disappearing beneath the gray waistband.

“I owe you for taking care of me last night,” I joked. “I don’t mind, really. You can get them next time.”

Sami was silent for a few seconds, then spoke, “Hey so, you don’t have any more dates coming up anytime soon, do you?”

I shook my head ‘no’, “Not anytime soon or at all. I think I’m going to take a break from dating for a while. Why, you wanna do something tonight?” I was secretly hoping he didn’t have anything planned that involved getting dressed or leaving the house at all for that matter. I was perfectly content with vegging out on the couch and ordering pizza with Sami tonight.

He shifted almost nervously, “No, well, I mean yeah, I just...don’t really know how to say this,” his eyes seemed to take interest in the tiled floor as he refused to meet my gaze.

“Sami is everything ok?” I rubbed his arm comfortingly, turning towards him. Was he still upset with me about our fight yesterday? Maybe this had something to do with whatever he was keeping from me. Or maybe me drunkenly kissing him has now created a permanent tension between the two of us and now our friendship will never be the same.

“No it’s just, I-I don’t want to see you going on dates with guys like that anymore,” before I could ask what he meant he spoke again, “because I want it to be me, ok? I wanna be the guy you go on dates with. Who takes you out to nice places and gets to show you off to everyone and spend all the time in the world with you,” he took a deep breath, “I’m just trying to say that I really care about you and that I’ve seen you as more than my roommate or friend for awhile now. Like, a long while.”

My heart felt like it was caught in my throat after hearing Sami’s confession. Suddenly his behavior for the past month involving Greg began to make sense. Between working and living with him for so long, I knew how Sami was around people he wasn’t fond of. He’d be as polite as he’d have to be and leave it at that; at the very most making some comment to me about them when they left. I should’ve known it was more than just Greg turning out to be a douche that caused Sami to act so rudely.

I was abruptly pulled out of my thoughts when he cleared his throat, “This might sound really stupid but, would it…be alright if I kissed you? Like a real kiss? You can say no, I don’t want you to feel like you’re obligated to or anything I just-“ His chocolate orbs met mine, and I don’t think I had ever seen him quite this nervous.

“Sami,” I cut his ramblings off before he could say another word, “I would love it if you kissed me. If that wasn’t already apparent from last night,” I giggled, trying to fight the blush that was creeping up on my own cheeks.

Gently, Sami took my face between his hands and pulled me closer, pressing his lips to mine. And I don’t think it’s much of an exaggeration to say that I swore I saw fireworks behind my eyes when I closed them. It was that weird, cliché moment where kissing him felt so right that everything seemed to fall into place.

I wasn’t sure why it took me so long to realize that maybe he held the same feelings for me as I did for him. He was right here the whole time and I was just brushing off everything he did as him being my best friend and nothing more than what I saw him as. It was a little silly, I thought, that two decently intelligent adults who also happened to be inseparable friends and roommates weren’t able to figure out that they both felt the same way about each other.

He pulled back ever so slightly, “God I should’ve done that so much sooner,” his eyes found mine, radiating warmth.

I couldn’t help but ask, “Why didn’t you? Not that I’m complaining or anything,”

“I don’t know,” he sighed heavily, squeezing his eyes shut for a few seconds before reopening them, “A bunch of shitty excuses; the main one being I was fucking terrified. I didn’t want to screw things up and lose you. Lose what we have. You’re my best friend and I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t in my life.”

I grinned up at him, “Well I’m not going anywhere,” I ran my fingers over his hand that was still planted on my cheek, “Especially not now. Looks like you’re stuck with me, Sami.”.

After that morning, Sami and I seemed to be behaving more and more like a couple as the days went on. Sure we hadn’t exactly put a label on it or told any of our friends/co-workers yet, but everyone at work knew we were roommates and good friends so as far as they were concerned we were keeping things professional, being that we were spending pretty much the same amount of time with each other.

To be honest, I think we were both surprised by how strangely…normal everything stayed between us. We still cooked, ran errands and did chores together as usual. The only difference were small things like me planting a kiss on his cheek to thank him for taking out the trash or him wrapping his arms around my waist while I made breakfast for the both of us.

The one thing we couldn’t quite figure out though, was a permanent sleeping situation. We had pretty much been alternating whose bed we’d end up sleeping in, the decision only really being based on whose bed sheets needed washing. Plus both of our beds were comfortably queen-sized.

“We should get a bigger place soon,” Sami turned his head to look at me. “What do you think?” We were lying together in his bed, my head against his chest as he browsed a house-hunting app on his phone. “Ooh we should get a puppy too, I mean, if you want.” I could tell by the tone of his voice that he very much was hoping that I also wanted a puppy.

Most girls would be over the moon if their boyfriend brought up the idea of getting a place together but Sami and I already living together dulled that spark just a little. Still, it made me happy to think that he’d maybe want a house together. Even though he wasn’t technically my “boyfriend” yet.

“I think that’s a good idea. Especially the puppy,” I planted a kiss on his lips, his beard tickling me as I did so. “We should look next week on our day off,” I lightly moved his arm from around me and stood up. “Be right back. Gotta brush my teeth,”

I exited the room and made my way to the bathroom down the hall, locking the door behind me. I ducked down to open the cabinet underneath the sink and pulled out the paper shopping bag I had hidden there earlier. It had been almost a month since Sami and I became an item and we still hadn’t had sex yet. I think we were both under the impression that the other one didn’t want to rush things too much, but I finally decided to take the leap of faith to try and initiate things.

Trying not to let the paper crinkling make too much noise, I slid out of my clothes and pulled on the lace black bra and panty set I had purchased earlier that day at the mall. I admired myself in the mirror for a few seconds, loving how the bra squeezed my breasts together for just the right amount of cleavage. I made one last attempt to doll myself up by running my hands through my hair and fluffing it slightly to give it a “messy but still sexy” look.

Taking a deep breath, I exited the bathroom and walked back to Sami’s room, only to see him still scrolling through his phone. “Hey so there’s a place not far from here that I think we should-“ he stopped in his tracks when his eyes moved to my barely clothed form. “Woah,”

I felt the blush stain my cheeks as I felt his hungry gaze wander over me, chewing on my bottom lip.

Sami was sitting up now, crooking his finger at me in a “come hither” motion, his eyes never leaving me.

Slowly, deliberately, I walked over to where he sat, only to let out a squeak of surprise when Sami yanked me onto his lap. “Look at you, baby. So fucking beautiful,”

His fingers traced small circles on the exposed skin above my panty line, his thumb dipping below the elastic slightly. My excitement got the better of me and I thought they’d venture a little lower, but to my disappointment, they didn’t. Our lips met in a passionate kiss, my fingers tangling into his red locks, deepening the embrace. I felt him chuckle against my mouth as my fingers moved out of his hair and twisted in the fabric of his plain black t-shirt, tugging it upwards. “Oh? You want it off?” he teased.

I nodded eagerly as he helped me tear the garment over his head, tossing it off to the side and revealing to me his well-toned chest and sparse little areas of hair. “What else do you want me to take off baby? Tell me.”

My fingers trailed down to the waistband of his sweats, gripping the elastic and playfully snapping it against his skin. “These too. Please?”

Sami pretended to think it over, humming quietly before he began to slide them off his legs. “I think that’s fair,”

I reached down between us, gently stroking his cock through his boxer briefs, causing him to let out a soft grunt. “Mmm baby,” His eyes fluttered closed as my hand worked him softly, squeezing the shaft with the right amount of pressure. Being that I was on his lap, I began moving my hips slightly against the lower half of his member while my hand worked around the head, causing Sami to shudder in surprise. “Shit sweetheart, you’re fucking good at that,”

I leaned forward, pulling him into another brief kiss, “Sami, I want you. So, so badly.”

He hummed in approval, dragging his lips across my collarbone, leaving tiny kisses across my skin, periodically pausing in between whenever he found a spot that seemed to drive me crazy. He began sucking on said spot, loving the reaction he was getting from me. I was fairly certain a hickey would form, but I couldn’t find myself particularly caring. “Want you too. I swear I’m the luckiest guy in the world right now,” he murmured, leaving a trail of kisses down my neck, until his mouth came to the center of my cleavage. “You’re so perfect baby,” I felt his warm hands reach behind me and unclip my bra, sliding the straps off my shoulders one at a time.

I ground against him slowly, feeling him harden against me as I did so. The aching between my legs only continued to grow as Sami gently cupped my breasts, dipping his head lower so that he could take a nipple in his mouth. So badly did I want him to get on with it and fuck me, but his motions were all unhurried, as if he were appreciating and memorizing every last inch of skin his fingers and mouth came across.

I felt his right hand drag down my side, finally providing me with a little bit of relief as his fingers slid past the fabric of my panties, coming into contact with my wetness. “Honey you’re so wet for me,” he mumbled, having switched to my other breast, teeth grazing slightly over the nipple. “Mmm I can’t wait to feel you,”

My eyes squeezed shut as two of his fingers easily slid inside of my entrance, causing me to arch against him. He had barely begun to touch me and I was already quickly becoming a writhing mess in his lap. “S-sami…” His response was to curl his fingers inside of me again and again, and my nails were digging into his shoulders, no doubt leaving marks.

His desire-filled eyes met mine, a smile across his lips. “Just like that? Do you want me to keep going? Or should I use something besides my fingers? Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you baby. Whatever you want. You just gotta tell me,”

My mind felt like it was going about a mile and minute and I could barely focus on the words he was saying to me, my entire body feeling as if it were buzzing. “I-I just need you, Sami I need you so fucking bad p-please…” I managed to choke out my answer.

That was apparently good enough for him because suddenly I was off his lap and lying splayed out on the bed with Sami hovering over me. His fingers hooked into the sides of my panties and tugged them the rest of the way down my legs, tossing them to the side of the bed. “This what you wanted baby? You want me to taste this sweet little pussy?”

Before I could hurriedly nod, his tongue slid through my folds once, twice, three times before focusing solely on my clit, making tight circles as his fingers gripped my thighs. “Oh god, don’t stop please!” My toes curled as his tongue lavished the sensitive bundle of nerves, causing my back to arch off the mattress.

It only took him a few more strokes with his tongue before I was bucking against his face, crying out his name as I reached my climax. Between the arousal that had already previously built up and his fingers and tongue simultaneously working on me, I wasn’t all that surprised that it took me such a short amount of time to cum.

I almost thought he wasn’t going to stop, but sure enough he rose back up to me, sloppily kissing me again, his tongue dancing with mine, and his beard slightly sticky. His cock was rock hard against my stomach and I pushed forward, making him sit up for me so I could assist him in the removal of his last piece of clothing.

I felt my face flush as I pulled his boxer briefs down, allowing his hardened cock to spring out. And it was safe to say, all of my fantasies and daydreaming did not do it any justice whatsoever.

I leaned down after giving it a few strokes and took as much of him as I could into my mouth, swirling my tongue around the head. Sami’s hand gently found it’s way into my hair, tugging softly and groaning in delight as I removed him from my mouth and gave him one long lick on the underside of his shaft.

Before I could taste his cock again, Sami hurriedly pulled me upwards and pressed me back down onto the mattress, descending over me shortly after. “Baby, baby I need you now. I can’t wait anymore,”

I definitely wasn’t complaining, although I was a little disappointed that I didn’t get a chance to taste him more. It was short-lived however, when I felt his hardened member pressing against my thigh.

Sami licked his lips before gripping his shaft and guiding it to my dripping wet entrance. “Are you ready for me sweetheart?”

Pretty much the second I nodded he surged forward inside of me, causing me to let out a whine of surprise at the very sudden motion. He gave me a few moments to adjust before pressing forward, causing me to let out a gasp of pleasure when he finally bottomed out inside of me, filling me completely. “Oh fuck Sami,”

“How’s that feel baby? Is that good?” I could tell that Sami’s main focus was immediately how he was making me feel versus his own pleasure. However, I could definitely tell by the look on his face that he was enjoying himself as well.

I responded by arching against him, his hips grinding into mine at a slow, monotonous pace initially. I wasn’t sure if he was intentionally trying to be gentle on me, or if he was just teasing me by going so slow, but regardless I wanted him to speed up.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, forcing him deeper inside of me as I did so, causing him to groan. “Yeah? Is that what my girl wants? You want it like that?” he punctuated the last word with one particularly hard thrust that hit me at a completely new angle. Chuckling, Sami noted the way my body responded and thrust that one particular spot again and again, moving in and out, not taking his eyes off me for even a second.

“You feel so good baby, holy shit. So fucking good, squeezing my cock like that,” Never in a million years would I ever think that Sami would be such a huge fan of dirty talk. Not that I wasn’t enjoying it, because holy shit, hearing him say these things was definitely adding to the experience. He was pounding into me at the perfect pace, hard and fast, yet still making sure that every single one of his thrusts were angled so that his cock brushed my G-spot over and over again. My eyes could’ve rolled to the back of my head with one particular thrust that caught me off guard, drawing a loud cry of pleasure from my throat. “Oh fuck! Sami please right there, that feels so good!”

He continued to hit that one spot with slow, deliberate strokes, his mouth hanging open slightly. With a groan, he lowered himself so that our foreheads pressed together, “Fuck sweetheart I love you, god I fucking love you so much,” his pace faltered slightly as he realized what he said. Safe to say by the brief look of what I can only describe as panic crossing his face that he hadn’t planned on saying that out loud.

I brought my hands from around his neck and gently held his face between my hands, my thumbs idly stroking his cheeks, “Sami. I love you too.” Besides not wanting him to stop, hearing him verbally say those words, much like our first real kiss, just felt so right that I didn’t think to question saying it back it at all.

The smile that spread across his face was like none I had seen before. Not the bright, million-watt smile that he usually had; this was a look of genuine content that I don’t think I had ever seen in Sami.

He kissed me again, this time slowly and softly, whispering my name against my lips, “I’m not gonna last much longer, sweetheart.”

I rolled my hips upward to meet each of his thrusts, noting the shudder it elicited from him. A lot of people throw the phrase, “I’m going to fuck you into the mattress” around during sex, but it literally felt like that’s what Sami was trying to do to me. Not that I was complaining of course. It was like he was pouring every ounce of strength he had into the fluid motions of his hips meeting mine.

I bit my bottom lip so hard that I swore I could’ve drawn blood as my second orgasm began rolling through my body, “ Oh god Sa-!,” I barely got out the last syllable of his name and I cried out loudly, tightening around him and he pounded into me over and over again.

Sami buried his face in my neck, loudly moaning as his own orgasm overtook him, “Ugh fuck sweetheart here it comes, here it fucking comes,” growling out one last “fuck” before collapsing on top of me.

Sami rolled off of me after a few seconds as not to crush me, exhaling loudly, and saying once again, “Woah.”

I laughed, “That’s a word for it.” I leaned over and pressed a kiss against his lips.

Sami wasted no time pulling me to his chest, and it wasn’t too surprising since he loved cuddling in general, even after sex. “Hey so…I actually have something to tell you. About that night you got drunk,”

“I know,” I turned over so I was face to face with him, still leaning on his chest. “You’re terrible at keeping secrets, you know. Like, really terrible.”

Sami chewed on his bottom lip, “Yeah so uh you didn’t just kiss me when you were drunk. You said you wish you had someone like me to love you and, I guess you don’t remember but I told you I loved you. And well since I know that the feeling’s mutual I guess I finally felt comfortable enough to tell you,”

I took in his words, thinking over what he said. If he had told me that day I probably would have been more embarrassed with my drunken antics, but now?

He frowned, a worried look crossing his features, “You’re not mad at me are you?”

“No! God no, of course not Sami.” He continued to watch me, knowing I had more to say, ”I mean…it’s the truth. I-hell not just me, any girl would be lucky to have someone like you. I took a peek up at him, trying to fight the blush that was once again staining my cheeks. “You’re one of the most amazing people I know, Sami.”

Sami grinned, kissing the top of my head, “Well I’m right here, aren’t I? And I’m yours already. I mean, well if you want me to be. Like, officially I mean.”

“If I didn’t make it clear that I want to be with you already then I’m doing something wrong here,” I rolled my eyes playfully, planting a kiss on his lips.

I settled myself back into his arms, completely and utterly spent. Just as I felt the welcome signs of sleep starting to overcome me, Sami’s hand shook my shoulder, causing me to grumble. “Wait baby, you can’t go to sleep yet! We still have to decide what kind of puppy to get!”

[moiraineswife]

Stumble Through Heaven- Part 1: The Calm - A Morrigan/Selene Fic

MAJOR ACOWAR SPOILERS AHEAD 

Sooo @tbhfangirl19 asked me for Mor/a lady someone basically. So now you have a two part Mor/ladies fic with Mor and...who is effectively my OC (she’s like...canon in five lines, she’s Viviane’s sister and this all definitely happened in canon) Anyway. I got carried away so now there’s lots of lesbian emotions flying around. Have at it. @king-havilliard figured you would appreciate the tag. Thank you for reading this/humouring my yelling about it @pterodactylichexameter

Title: Stumble Through Heaven - Part 1: The Calm 

Summary: (my timings are wonky, this doesn’t technically work in canon but it’s close enough and by the time I realised it didn’t work I was already attached to the idea and it was too much effort changing it for a relatively small detail) After her fight with Feyre Mor seeks solace in the Winter Court camp and runs into an old flame, Selene, Viviane’s younger sister. They revisit their history with one another. Rating will go up in the next part but this one is SFW. 

Teaser:  “How are you?”

There’s enough pointed emphasis in the last word that Mor knows the female can still read her as easily as she remembers how she prefers her tea. She turns away, looks down the sharply sloping hill to the battlefield again, churned and ragged and raw. A good mirror for the way she feels. All she says however in answer to Selene’s question is, “Fine.”

To her surprise, that response tugs a soft huff of laughter from the female sitting by her side, legs folded beneath her, back perfectly straight, “All these years, Morrigan,” she says quietly, taking a drink of her tea before shaking her head. “All these years and you still think you can hide from me.”

Link: AO3 

Despite the thick heat of the Summer Court, the air wet with blood after a day of battle and the mourning tears that followed, the Winter Court encampment still somehow feels cold to Mor. A sharp breeze lifts, tugging at her hair, stirring it around her face, as though trying to pull her away somewhere. She ignores it.

Still in the clothes she had worn when she’d descended down into the battle, not bothering to strip out of it. The armour feels like a lead weight now, dragging her weary limbs down. Exhaustion gnaws at her and she should sleep, should go back to her own camp, her own tent, curl up and let that fatigue drag her into tomorrow but...

She had needed to get out, to get away from all of it. Cassian’s injuries had rattled her, even if the stupid prick would be alright. She had been there, feet from him as he’d been torn apart before her eyes and she’d felt sure she was watching his death, helpless. Helpless again when she had returned to the camp and found Feyre gone, had to restrain herself from shaking that sister of hers to make her tell her where she had gone so she could find her and drag her back. Helpless as she had looked into Rhys’ terrified eyes and been forced to confess that she had been tricked, that she had been lied to, again, that those closest to her would rather go behind her back than trust her.

Then the fight with Feyre in her tent after she had returned. In one piece, thank the Mother, the things that she had said to her, the things she had heard come tearing from her friend’s lips. She closes her eyes, hugging herself, her fingers gripping onto her arms until it hurts. That breeze lifts again, carrying with it the tears that burn her eyes and fall as she bows her head, shaking, attempting to master herself.

They’re at war she doesn’t have time to sit here and feel sorry for herself, she should be in camp, helping, planning, doing something. Instead she’s sitting here, like a child pathetic and frightened and helpless all over again. She holds her head in her hands, shaking, not caring who sees. None of the Winter Court soldiers are likely to bother her. They would have to come seeking her, where she’s huddled on the edge of this war camp, over-looking the battle field that Feyre had tricked her onto, where Cassian had nearly died right in front of her, where-

She looks up at the soft, lithe footsteps that sound at her side. A beautiful Winter Court fae stands there, looking down at her. Selene. Viviane’s sister. It’s been decades since they’ve been this close to one another, not since before Amarantha. Yet she hasn’t changed. She remains the same. A tall, willowy pillar of frozen steel, cold and unyielding, precise and elegant as a sculpture. Her long silver hair restrained by a thick braid wrapped around her head like a crown. She looks strikingly like her older sister, except her eyes, they’re sharper, colder, and of a steely grey, a windswept mountain to her sister’s bright ocean sapphire.

For all they look alike however, there are no squealing outbursts and desperate hugs between the two of them. Only quiet. The same kind of quiet that always fills Mor whenever she looks into those pale, fathomless eyes, the same kind of quiet she wishes she could exist in for the rest of her life. The tension seems to bleed from her as that silence sweeps through her, a bone deep calm that she only ever feels around a few people in this world.

Wordlessly, taking Mor’s lack of brusque demand for her to leave her alone as acceptance of her presence, Selene carefully lowers herself down onto the ground, then passes over a cup of tea. Mor accepts it gratefully, holding it between her hands to warm them from the chill night that’s starting to draw in around her. She sniffs at the tea before she takes a sip. The mixed scents of citrus and apple draw a small, sad smile from her. All these years...All these years but Selene still remembers her favourite blend.

They sit in silence for a long moment, sipping their tea, Mor grateful for the other female’s company, despite the faint knot of tension that starts to pulse in her stomach at her presence. So long, it’s been so long since they were together, all this time, both likely fearing the other lost after Amarantha’s conquest and yet...Yet still the quiet embraces them, holds them tight, somehow more intimate than the tight embrace Viviane had swept her into when they had seen each other again.

It’s a gift, this respite that she offers her. But eventually, Mor finds herself asking quietly, “How are you?”

Selene stiffens almost imperceptibly, takes a sip of her own tea, mint, if Mor isn’t mistaken. Even without the scent she would have known. She remembers her too. Then she says, “Well.” Her voice is the same as she remembers it, like snow melting from a mountainside, cool and heavy and smooth, with that soft rasp to it that makes her shiver.

It had been a loaded question, a question asking after how she had fared all these years they had been apart, with the distance of grief and loss between them. That she had chosen not to answer it, to confine their discussion to the present...Says all she needs it to.

She turns to face Mor, her eyes seeming to glow a dark silver as the light from the camp behind them catches, “How are you?”

There’s enough pointed emphasis in the last word that Mor knows the female can still read her as easily as she remembers how she prefers her tea. She turns away, looks down the sharply sloping hill to the battlefield again, churned and ragged and raw. A good mirror for the way she feels. All she says however in answer to Selene’s question is, “Fine.”

To her surprise, that response tugs a soft huff of laughter from the female sitting by her side, legs folded beneath her, back perfectly straight, “All these years, Morrigan,” she says quietly, taking a drink of her tea before shaking her head. “All these years and you still think you can hide from me.”

She doesn’t look at her as she says it, continues gazing serenely out over the battlefield, stray locks of silver dancing around her face like lost spirits. The calm, impassive set of her face implies that they might be talking about the weather.

Mor bristles. At the words. At the assumption in them. At the calm. She had loved it at times, yes, but at times, times like this, times when she wants that mask to shatter and reveal the storm beneath, she hates it. “What’s that supposed to mean?” She demands sharply, the words laced with a snarl that makes them harsher than she had intended.

Selene, as is her wont, remains utterly composed and unruffled by the display of aggression on her part. “It means that I know you,” she says simply. She takes another draught of tea then adds, before Mor can protest, “Fifty years apart or five hundred, it makes no matter. I know you.”

Mor’s anger recedes at those words, at the truth contained within them. She does know her, she always has. Even from that first moment that they met, she had looked into her eyes and known, known right then that something darker than the bright sunshine she coated herself with lurked beneath her warm eyes. She’s always had this effect on her, always been able to gentle her, quiet her, soothe her with a few soft words, bare her body with some soft touches, brush her fingers against her very soul with a kiss.

“I know when something is wrong,” Selene continues, every word carefully selected, controlled, quiet, precise. “What happened?”

Mor closes her eyes, looking away from her. When she opens her eyes she lets her gaze stretch to the endless horizon beyond, past the bloodied battlefield and the grows that are starting to gather in clouds above it. A feast of the dead that she does not want to look at or think upon right now. Her throat tightens as the memory again surges. A part of her wishes to shove it down, wishes to continue insisting that everything is fine.

Yet...Yet it’s not fine. And she hasn’t seen this woman in fifty years but...But it’s as though they’ve been together through it all, side-by-side as they once were, as they perhaps should always be, and the words come before she truly thinks of them, because a world in which she feels the need to hide from this woman, this woman who has seen and knows every inch of her body, her heart, her being...Is one she might not feel inclined to save any more.

“I had a fight with a friend,” she confesses tightly. Selene’s eyes slide to glance at her, though she remains facing the field and doesn’t turn to her. She notes the tone, the rawness in Mor’s voice, as though the aftermath of the fight still stings at her throat, ravages the words when she tries to speak of it.

“About the war?” Selene enquires carefully, slender silver eyebrow arching. “Sure that is not enough to-“

“No.” Mor grits out, voice brittle. She takes a deep breath, clenching and unclenching her hands in her lap, a gesture that isn’t missed by Selene’s razor eyes. “Not about this about-“ She can’t say it, can’t get the words out, not even to Selene, who knows, who understands she can’t she- Mor doesn’t realise how violently she’s shaking until she feels Selene’s hand on her back. Ice seems to spread from where they connect, the cold spreading through her, calming her.

Swallowing hard, Mor lets Selene gently rub her back in big, broad circles, unable to bear, for all her cool indifference, seeing her suffer this way. The touch is intimate, deeply personal and again it feels like no time has passed between them, like it was only yesterday they were bundled naked together beneath fires, in front of the roaring fireplace in the small mountain lodge that Selene called her home.

Finally, Mor manages to say tightly, “She knows.” Selene stiffens, her eyes going wide in surprise, “About me. About-“ She doesn’t have to finish, the way she squeezes her shoulder communicates well enough that she understands.

Mor bows her head, thick golden hair falling over her face, shielding the pain carving lines into her skin, hollowing out her eyes. She had been careful, she had been so careful all these years, had hidden all those she had been with, all those she might have fallen in love with...All those she had fallen in love with to keep herself safe. If the Circle knew the male lovers she had taken confused them enough that they kept quiet, kept wandering but never...Never in five hundred years had anyone challenged her the way that Feyre had.

They’re quiet for a long time, until a tear finally breaks free of Mor’s iron restraint and slides down her cheek. Before she can lift her own hand, Selene is there, pale, delicate fingers brushing it away, strengthening her. “Don’t you think,” she asks, voice quiet and measured but with a tightness that hasn’t entered it since she joined her here, a tightness she hasn’t heard for fifty years. “Don’t you think it would be so much better for you if you just told-“

There was no judgement in the words. None. There never had been. Not from her, never from her. She understand too well, understands her and understands this, what it feels like, to be asked to bear such a tender, delicate part of herself that has never been seen, never touched before by any who don’t have a similar part of themselves.

“Don’t start that again,” Mor snarls viciously, pulling away. The words snap out of her and she regrets them the instant they leave her mouth, as Selene’s hand leaves her back but...She can’t go through that again, not with her, not so soon after Feyre, when everything is still so raw and aching.

Selene holds her furious stare, her own burning gaze meeting one of calm, tempered ice. Neither of them look away, neither bending or breaking, but it is Selene who speaks first. “I only want you to be happy, Mor,” she says, her voice uncharacteristically soft and gentle, “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“I know, I know,” Mor whispers, dropping her eyes at last and staring at the hands that are now fumbling uncomfortably in her lap to keep them from seizing one of Selene’s. “I’m sorry,” she mutters, quiet and brittle.

Selene surveys her for a long moment without saying anything, then, “It was bad?”

Mor can’t bring herself to answer her, the words jamming in her throat, she only manages a tight nod.

Selene draws in a heavy breath, fidgeting, uncharacteristically, with a loose thread in the fitted silver tunic she wears. Selene rarely wore dresses, feeling out of place and uncomfortable in the flowing silks and frills that Mor and her sister so loved. She had coaxed her into a few over the years and the sight of her in them always damn near destroyed her but...There was something right about Selene in the tunics and jackets and furs of her court.

Finally she says quietly, “I was pleased to see you, today, you know.” Mor blinks in surprise, not having expected the conversation to take this turn. “I know I may have reacted...poorly, especially compared to-“ A muscle feathers in her jaw as she snaps her mouth shut, forestalling the comparison to her sister. A slight shake of the head, “I apologise,” she says stiffly, too stiffly.

A soft smile brushes Mor’s lips for the first time that night. “You seem to forget,” she says quietly, reaching over and slipping her hand, warm from the tea that’s slowly growing cold, into hers. “That I know you, too.” Selene looks up at her, those impenetrable grey eyes yielding just a little for her. Her thumb strokes absently over the back of Mor’s hand. She shivers at the contact.

“I had thought you must be dead,” Selene says quietly, “After all that time, no word from you in that court. Even...In that place...”

Her eyes darken at the mention of Under the Mountain. Mor stiffens at the mention too. She had gone with Kallias that day, his right hand, his sworn shield, had remained there with him during Amarantha’s reign. Selene swallows hard, composing herself, pushing down whatever dark memories had reached up to take hold of her and Mor realises...Realises that she knows this woman but...There are scars that she doesn’t know, demons she has not yet met, ghosts that have not been buried.

Her voice is perfectly steady when she resumes, “I thought of asking Rhys for news of you,” she says quietly. “I was never close to him, rarely spent time with him but I knew he was your cousin, knew he cared for you, trusted you and yet...The mask he wore there, the things that he did-“ She cuts herself off when she feels Mor starting to shake beside her. Her thumb strokes over her hand again and her voice is controlled when she continues, weighing each word.

“I was not sure if I could trust him. I wanted to ask after you to know if you were safe, if there was even a shred of hope but...” She bows her head, shaking herself. “I told myself it would be worth it, whatever bargain he might strike with me, whatever wicked price he might compel me to pay it...It would have been worth it...For you.” Mor swallows tightly past the lump in her chest, struggling to remain grounded, present. “I was a coward,” Selene whispers, hanging her head, her eyes closing, though she doesn’t pull away from Mor, their hands remaining entwined, bridging the distance between them.

Mor opens her mouth to push back, to counter her, but Selene is already going on, speaking her words into the dark, cool night that’s slowly starting to unfold around them, darkness embracing them.“I should have asked him, I should have asked after you then I would have known, then today perhaps I-“ She straightens her spine, exhaling, her breath blowing out in a cloud in front of her. She turns at last and looks at Mor again as she says, “Seeing you again today, it was a shock. After all this time I, I-“

She stops herself, turns away again, unable to say what she feels for her in this moment. But Mor hears it all the same, echoing across fifty years spent in fear and uncertainty and distance, the longest they had ever gone without seeing one another. I missed you.

The argument with Feyre keeps playing over and over in her head, a never-ending echo that makes her feel an odd combination of emotions, anger and fear both strong among them. And the feelings that Selene has now stirred, the lust, the want, the desire, with the words, spoken and unspoken...It’s too much. They rage within her, a fire that’s blazing out of control, setting her on edge and making her wince as every movement sends it flashing through her raw nerves.

She wants the softness she knows she can draw from Selene, the tenderness that she isn’t sure anyone else has ever truly known from her, not in the way she has. The ice in her touch would be the most welcome thing in the world.

Others had fled from it, had turned their backs on her, not wanting the cold, distant woman, not able to see the light that burned in her eyes when she set them on fire, a Starfall whenever they were entwined. She longs for it, has longed for it all these long years, she realises, looking at her now. She had never thought to have it again, had never thought to be this close.

Mor realises that she’s leaning into her, instinct drawing her forwards, the same kind of force as the pull that ties her to the earth, irresistible, inevitable. She wants this. She wants her. She wants the soothing calm that always floods through her whenever they’re together. Other lovers have set her on fire, stoked the flames that writhe and dance in her blood, in her heart. Selene...Selene had soothed it, had gentled it, had made it all stop for the first time in her life. When she had taken her to bed that first time, all those years ago, on a diplomatic mission to her court...She had never experienced anything like it before.

Selene was so often dismissed, so often in her sister’s shadow. Many made the mistake of assuming she was bitter about that, that she disliked the attention lavished upon Viviane but...She had confessed to liking it. The two of them understood one another and Viviane’s shadow, quiet, calm, peaceful, was exactly where Selene longed to be.

She would have died for her sister, a hundred times over, before letting so much as a scratch touch her soft skin. That was Viviane’s power, her charm, the way wielded the beauty the Cauldron had given her, deflected attention from her reserved sister but Mor...She loved Viviane dearly, the two so alike in personality and taste that they had connected at once, all bubbly laughter and excited shouts. Viviane was alive with energy and joy and yet, despite that shine, that presence, that magnetic pull towards her...The moment Mor had set eyes on Selene she had wanted her.

She had not taken a female lover since Andromache’s death but when she saw Selene...Her heart had constricted, her lungs emptying of breath. The world around her had gone quiet and dark and cold and she had never wanted it to switch back on, had not wanted the raucous laughter or pounding music to distract from this.

Mor had looked at Selene and she had been home. She was Velaris when it came alive after the sun had set and the stars scattered themselves about the sky above. She was the quiet time she spent during the nights, stood on a balcony, the cool air a fresh and welcome touch upon her skin, fever hot from dancing and singing and laughing at Rita’s. She was the heavy embrace of the darkness gilded with moonlight that made her feel safe, cherished.

Their courtship had been quiet, tentative. Mor had made excuses, so many that Cassian had teased her mercilessly and Az had quietly asked if everything was alright, to return to the Winter Court to visit her. She pretended it was for Viviane, their friendship so open and the letters they sent one another so constant that no-one questioned it but...But as soon as she could she went to Selene.

It took her time to open up, to trust Mor, to let her in. But soon...Soon she was showing her the court, at first just the cities, her favourite places to eat or to shop, different from the bustling places Viviane had dragged her too. But then something had changed, Selene had softened, a more vulnerable side emerging, and she’d taken her to all of her favourite places.

Mor hadn’t been able to get enough of her. There hadn’t been enough hours in the day, enough weeks in the ear, enough years in her eternity to spend with her. She had been so timid, opening up to her, revealing how she felt about females. It had been easier with Andromache. She had been human, separate, distinct. Selene...Selene was fae, was part of that world, could have ruined her so easily and yet...And yet. She had not been able to help herself.

That first time they had slept together had been the first time that Selene had seen Velaris. Mor had taken her, taken her to all of her favourite places, shown her everything she could all in that one visit. She had been sure she had overwhelmed her, sure she would simply wish to return home the next day, exhausted but...But instead they had ended up in that cabin in the mountains and Selene had stared with wonder at the night their court was famous for and then...Then she had kissed her.

They had tumbled into bed that same night and Mor had not known pleasure like this since Andromache had died, had never thought to feel this kind of pleasure again. Everything had gone quiet and still. She had forgotten that there was a world out there beyond that cabin, beyond the space where their bodies connected.

It had not lasted. Reality had rushed back in. One particularly bad visit to the Court of Nightmares had caused her to end it in a blind panic, imagining all of the things that her father would do to Selene, her beautiful, wonderful Selene, if he ever found out about her, about this. That terror, that he might take her from her, that he would hurt her, destroy her and she couldn’t stand it. She had handled it badly and Selene...After all the time it had taken to build up her trust, her interest, she had ruined everything between them that night.

Yet it handed ended there. They had both been young and foolish and Mor was still connected to that court through Viviane. Selene, it seemed, had never explained to her sister what they had had, what they had been to one another, what they might have been had Mor not rejected her. Viviane had, eventually, dragged her into staying with her once more and when she had seen Selene...She had broken.

She had confessed everything to her that night. The Court of Nightmares, the way she had grown up, what her father and Eris had done to her after she had slept with Cassian and ruined her betrothal. Selene had listened in that way of hers, that quiet that somehow went beyond silence, a calm so razor-edged and lethal that Mor could see the wild thing stir to life in her eyes. They had fallen into bed and into love with one another all over again but...

It had still ended. It always ended. Mor panicked. Or Selene needed more than she could give her. The distance grated on them. The need for secrecy and lies broke them both. Something always happened to tear them away from one another but...But something always happened to bring them back. No matter how far she ran, no matter how far apart the world pulled them something was always stronger, it always brought them back. Even conquest and war and tyranny had not been enough to separate them.

Here they were again, on the precipice of the dawn of the new world and they were together. They had survived. They were here. And Mor wanted her, she craved her, she needed her.

Not just for the reckless defiance that blurred the lines between sense and spite after the argument with Feyre. Not just because she needed something, anything, to take her away from the horror of this war, the prospect of watching those she loved die around her. Not just because she wanted someone to just hold her for one damned night where she could be soft and vulnerable, and something less than strong. Because she wanted her. She needed her. She always had. A part of her likely always would.

Selene feels her stare and turns slowly to her. Mor catches a flicker of lust lighting the deep slate grey of her eyes, making the silver dance through them. Then they slide down to her lips. Remaining there. She does not look away this time, does not flinch from the heat and lust that she must be able to feel blazing from her, that she can surely scent with so little distance between them.

Mor moves closer to her. They’re out here in the open, a stone’s throw from the entire Winter Court army. Her own army is camped not far from there, her own father amongst them but...But she feels reckless, defiant in the face of Feyre’s accusations, the words she had hurled at her. Liar. Liar. Liar. She squeezes her hand tightly, their lips a mere fraction from one another.

She feels it, tastes it, when Selene whispers, “Mor.” It’s a warning, a reproach, a hesitation but...She does not pull away. Her eyes flutter, half-closed, her mouth parts slightly, seeking for Mor’s.

A flicker of uncertainty stirs inside her as she realises how close they are, how open and exposed and vulnerable. She covers the moment, getting smoothly to her feet, as though this had always been the intention, the moment that had passed between them just now nothing more than a tease. “Come,” Mor murmurs quietly, not taking her eyes from the female still sitting primly upright on the grass, not having moved.

Mor holds out her hand. Invitation. Offer. Plea.

“Mor-“ Selene begins, still not moving.

She keeps her hand held out to her, says once more, not bothering to try to hide the faint note of desperation in her voice, not from her, when she says again, “Come.”

Selene takes a breath, closing her eyes, pressing her lips together. Then, faster than Mor can see, her hand shoots out, closing around Mor’s own, her grip death tight. A moment later she’s winnowed them, drawing them both into darkness and shadow, away, away, somewhere they can be alone together at last.

****