#THEY ARE BUDDIES.....!!! COMPANIONS EVEN..

[writing-till-i-am-dead]

Stargoth oneshot - Letter

It's not like Buddy liked Chase. He didn't. Honest, he really didn't. And you know he's being honest because he never lies... ok, well, he's lied a couple times.. actually, he's lied a lot. But he's really not lying about this. Because, what is there to like about this idiot? Because that is what he is, an idiot. Plain and simple. With his obviously fake blonde hair and forever-outside voice. The guy should just get the hell out of his way if he knows what's good for him. And that's what he's been telling him.

But he never thought Chase would actually listen.

3 weeks. 3 whole weeks since Chase has been in a book. This was starting to seriously piss him off. Where the hell was he? 

Now, reader, before you start getting ideas that Buddy actually misses Chase, you better think again. Chase has something he wants, the heroine key, and that is it. He just wants the key, so fuck off if you're questioning his honesty in the beginning. 

"Buddy?" calls out a voice, to which Buddy immediately jumped. But don't think he was excited! Or startled. He was merely jumped into action to follow it. However, he quickly realized that wasn't the voice of the blonde, but rather the even more unbearable brunette. 

"What are you doing with the heroine key?" Buddy asks, leaning against the stone archway. He looks around. Another high-fantasy novel with a castle. He's starting to figure out who's the one choosing these books in the first place.

Deacon whips his head around to face Buddy. "Geez. How do you do that?"

"Hm? Do what?"

"Just.. appear out of nowhere? Like you're teleporting or something?"

Buddy scoffed. This idiot really thought he was teleporting? As if someone could top Chase's idiocy. "You still haven't answered my question."

Deacon sighs. "Chase has been.. whining, lately."

Buddy scoffs. "When is he not?"

This got a chuckle from the brunette.

"You guys had some sort of fight in the last book you did together?"

Buddy raised an eyebrow and tried to remember. But, he and Chase would always fight, so he couldn't remember any of the specifics. "Probably."

Deacon rubbed his face, clearly frustrated. Deacon seemed to get peeved with Chase a lot, which gave Buddy a sick satisfaction. Not because he's jealous, of course not. But because if the two don't work well together, it'll be easier to make them crack. Give him information. Stop trying to twist his words.

Deacon groaned. "Well, something you said seriously offended him and he's refusing to use Silver, and has been using Bronze, instead."

Buddy felt his eye twitch, Deacon noticing and taking a step back. "Hey, don't shoot the messenger."

"What did I say that could've offended him that badly?!"

"Hey, you know how fragile his ego is."

Buddy makes a light 'tsk' and puts his hands on his hips. "Well this definitely is.. annoying." Before you think I'm annoyed because now I won't see him, that is not the reason. It's annoying because Chase was a much bigger slip up than his ugly, freckled companion. Buddy can extract more information from him. 

"Tell me about it. We've had lots of trouble collecting narratonin now, since the heroine key.. yknow.. summons you."

Buddy raises an eyebrow. "Well, then. He must not be that determined to collect it, huh?"

"Don't talk like that, Buddy. You don't know. He's been telling me to use the key, as long as I go into different books. But I just haven't wanted to deal with you on my own."

Buddy nods in agreement. "I would rather rip my hair out then be alone with you."

"Look. All I ask is you apologize."

"Look," Buddy says, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I don't even know what it is I said that is worth an apology."

"It was something about his singing, I think? And the narratonin? He gets really heated everytime he talks about it and then shuts down.

Ya, that did sound familiar. Buddy rubbed his temples in an attempt to remember.

"Snap and clap and touch your toes! Raise your hands, now body roll! Dance it out, you're hot to gooooo!!"

"CAN YOU STOP THAT!?" Buddy snaps. "You've been singing that tune all day!"

Chase rolls his eyes. "You are just jealous of my singing."

"Oh trust me, I am anything but. You're singing is like nails on a chalkboard. Grating and makes me wish I didn't have ears! You better hope you collect enough narratonin fast, before too many people are cursed to have listen to your voice and will never give you another chance to sing, even when you use the narratonin to make you bearable to listen to!"

....

Chase left the story after he said that. But Buddy hadn't sweat it too much. Why would he? They always bicker. But based on the look that Deacon was giving him, he could tell that he had screwed up.

"That's.. definitely too far, Buddy."

"I- How was I supposed to know he'd take it to heart?!"

Deacon shakes his head. "Look, whatever. You can't take back what you said and that's fine. But you can at least make up for it. Maybe write him a letter? The bedroom I woke up in the basement had a desk and some paper. Maybe go write something in there?"

Buddy raises a brow before tilting his head back. "Fine! Whatever. Only because of my own reasons, though! Not because I feel bad. Don't go and get the wrong idea!" he calls out as he enters back into the castle, bulldozing through guards.

"Move, move, Evil Queen, make way." He reads down the spiral staircase, twists and turns, twists and turns. By the time his feet hurt in his heeled shoes, he finally reached the basement.

The room felt all too familiar. Small, box shaped with a thick layer of dust on every surface. A creaky bed, about as soft as a rock, and blankets covered in bed bugs. This... was why he didn't really want the heroine key. Of course, he's still going to retrieve it. It's part of his job. But he will never use it. He's already got a crappy life. Why make himself live through another's?

He sits himself in a creaky oak chair, which gave him a few splinters, causing him to flinch. A small pile of thick paper and a quill with mostly dried out ink. But, still good to use. He wish he knew why his words upset Chase so much. Not because he genuinely feels bad, but because it would make this letter less of a hassle to write. He scribbles up in the corner of the parchment to check if the ink works. He then taps a couple of times in an effort to think of what to write. Buddy, despite all of his time dedicated to reading books, has never been good at words. Things never come out right and he always overthinks it, always adding parenthesis and commas to make his point more clear, out of the fear he's not being explicit enough.

"Dear Chase,

I still cannot believe that you let slip what your name was. You truly are 

I apologize that my words had offended you. I may not know what you plan to do with the narratonin, probably something stu. Your singing is really not that bad. It only makes me want to claw my ears off a little. I do think that you can have a big audience if you put your voice out there, with or without the narratonin.

-Sincerely, 'buddy'"

Buddy stared at the letter, questioning everything he wrote, but decided it was... good enough.. ya, it's not like Chase is worth that kind of effort.. 

He folds up the paper and stuck it into his back pocket. He looked up the staircase once more and let's out a long sigh as he made the long trip once more. Twists and turns galore with each step. The guards quickly moved as to not get pushed out of the way again. He found the ugly boy standing outside, waiting for him. He shoved the letter into his chest. "Here."

Deacon let's out a huff and nods. "All right. I'll see you later, Buddy."

Buddy simply just rolls his eyes. "Whatever."

The boy pulls out the Helper Key, wrapped around his neck, and the he's gone. Buddy looks at the spot where he had disappeared before mentally scolding himself for being so hopeful.

~~~~

It's not like Chase liked Buddy. He didn't. Because what is there to like about that jerk? He's an aggressive prick who does nothing but provoke him. With his incredible eyeliner and deep voice... He should just leave Chase alone. And that's what he's been telling him.

So he stopped bothering and has been properly avoiding him. 

Ho could he not? It wasn't the comment about his singing, although that had hurt, but the fact that Buddy thinks he's so shallow that being famous is Chase's biggest concern. And the way Buddy said it didn't ound like just a jab because he was mildly annoyed. It sounded genuine. Like her really thinks so low of Chase. Maybe Chase took it so seriously is because earlier in the day, before he said that, Chase had visited his mom. 

His moping is interrupted by a knocking at his door. He looks up and sees his cousin, Deacon, standing in the doorway.

"Where were you?" Chase asks. Deacon hands him a paper. 

"It's from Buddy."

Chase sucked in a breath. Buddy. Buddy!? Buddy sent him a letter? 

His heart was racing and his hands were clammy. No way. No. Way. Why was he getting so excited. Stop it, heart!! He pats his chest a couple of times to ease his rapid heart rate before he folded the paper open.

He scanned through the words, squinting as he made out some of the scribbled out sentences, and he finishes it off with a deep frown.

"What's with that face?" Deacon asks.

"This is kind of a crappy apology. There are multiple scratched out sentences that was just him being petty."

Deacon takes the paper and reads over it. "Hm. I mean.. ya, it seems kind of backhanded, but at the same time, since when has Buddy gone out of his way to do something like this i the first place?"

"You probably just told him to do it."

"Ya.. but what about the fact that he actually listened?"

Chase froze and looks back at the letter, feeling his face flush slightly. Damnit. He had a good point. He crumbles up the letter and was about to toss it into the trash, but stopped himself and instead tossed it onto his desk.

"Give me my key."

Deacon smirks.

"Don't smile at me like that."

Deacon quickly stifles it and hands Chase the key. Chase gets up ad grabs a totally random book and crams the key into the cover. The last thing he heard was, "Wait, not that book!"

Chase's eyes opened and the first thing he's met with is excruciating pain. He's impaled. He screams at the top of his lungs and standing over him is Buddy, whose eyes are equally as wide as he stares down at Chase. 

"What kind of book did you choose?!" Buddy exclaims, quickly pulling the spear out of Chase's chest, who's left panting and throbbing in pain. Buddy squats down and looks over him. "Deep breaths. The main character of this book has healing powers."

Chase tightly close his eyes and feels the gash slowly close up. He lays down in the ground, panting. "SHIT! I just needed to talk to you. Just my luck."

Buddy chuckles, actually chuckles, which feels like another stab to the heart, but kind of in a good way???

"You got excited to see me?" Buddy asks.

Chase scoffs. "I just came to talk to you about that letter."

Buddy goes quiet. "Hm. You seem upset? Was it not to your liking, your majesty?"

"Eat a sock," Chase grumbles.

Chase sits up, holding himself by his elbows. "What kind of book opens with the heroine getting stabbed?" Chase grumbles.

Buddy shrugs and looks around at the wasteland they were in. "Well.. what did you think of the letter? You still mad at me?"

Chase pauses before huffing. "Nevermind. I just wanted to say it sucked. I would keep avoiding you if it weren't for Silver, like.. begging me to go back to using her."

"Mhm?"

"Mhm!"

Chase stands up. Buddy does too.

It's not like they liked each other. They just had a story to complete. They just happen to.. do it together.

Shut up.

divider by @saradika-graphics

[mitskihwa]

Pitched Your Way Into My Heart | CHAPTER 05

Pairing: Baseball Player Yunho x Reader

Synopsis: Yunho, the star of your college's baseball team, is a sweetheart to everybody except to you. From the day Yunho joined your class in high school, there was an unspoken tension between you two.

You couldn't quite pinpoint why, but it pushed you both to strive for greatness in everything you did.

Little did you know that Yunho's highschool and college experience was a mixture of two things: trying his best to endeavor in his baseball career and navigating his feelings towards you.

Previous - Next

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Ace had been the happiest surprise in Yunho’s life.

After his brother’s passing, Yunho’s world felt like it was stuck in time. As if nothing mattered.

As the days after their car accident passed, everything felt like he was put on a stage with a bright light shining straight into his eyes and a crowd staring at him. Judging him. Pitying him.

Taeho was everything an eldest son should be. An example Yunho had looked up to his entire life. Taeho played football for most of his life, yet baseball was also his passion. He had taught Yunho everything he had to know about the sport. Taeho also had amazing grades, and managed to get into the Ivy League.

Yunho just wanted to be like him.

But now he was forced to step into Taeho’s shoes.

If you asked Yunho about what happened that night, he would tell you that he remembered little to nothing, almost as if it was a fleeting blur.

He only remembered his brother losing control of the wheel due to the heavy rain, and then waking up to his mother’s pleas next to his hospital bed: “I already lost one. Don’t take both my sons from me.”

He also recalled a splitting headache, as if he’d hit his head against a titanium wall. His injuries weren’t minor, but it was relatively easy for him to recover afterward.

Even though he was healthy now, nothing would ever be the same.

A year after his brother’s passing, and after long therapy sessions, his parents gifted him Ace. His therapist had suggested that a dog would be a great companion and would help him climb out of the dark slump he’d fallen into.

Ace was a clumsy little thing at first. His paws were too big for his tiny body and his ears would flop over his eyes. He would run around and fall onto his puppy belly on the floor.

And for the first time in a year, Yunho cried. He hadn’t cried at his brother’s funeral, not even when someone mentioned Taeho’s name. His parents were already a wreck; he had to be strong. He was their only son now, after all.

And now Ace ran around the park chasing his favorite ball. It was a baseball he got a few weeks ago. Yunho threw it, and Ace ran as fast as he could to catch it. He had grown up fast, too fast.

He was a bit bigger now but still clearly a puppy in the snout.

He ran and got his paws all muddy, then rested them on Yunho’s thighs, dirtying his trousers. But Yunho didn’t care. He was happy, his buddy was happy, and nothing could ruin this day.

Maybe Yunho thought too soon because then he spotted you. Puffer jacket and a red scarf covering half your face. You looked different than you had in college: not as rushed, not as busy, more peaceful. He found it strange to see you outside an academic setting.

Then he noticed you holding a leash, stopping next to the trees because your puppy wanted to smell the leaves on the ground.

“Let’s go, baby. We can play on the other side of the park,” he heard you say. You hadn’t noticed him yet. He hoped you wouldn’t. It was better to stay out of your space.

But he still stared in your direction, wondering if fate would make you notice him. He was so lost in how you looked in this setting, golden leaves on the floor, cheeks glossy from the cold, that he forgot Ace was growing impatient for him to throw the ball.

His buddy whined and waved his paw.

“Sorry, bud, I got distracted,” Yunho told him. Ace looked around and spotted the other puppy on the other side of the park. He wagged his tail in excitement.

“No, bud. Sorry, but that dog is off limits. Don’t cause Dad any trouble, please.”

One thing about Ace was that he’d always been a curious puppy. Yunho’s mother often said they resembled each other, always curious about the world, happy to just exist.

Ace also almost never listened to what Yunho had to say.

So Yunho wasn’t surprised when, once he threw the ball, Ace ran straight to where you and your dog were. He cursed and rolled his eyes.

But then he saw how you smiled when Ace handed your dog his favorite baseball. How you carefully caressed Ace’s head.

And then you noticed him. You froze for a second before your face turned sour.

Nice.

Great.

Fuck.

Yunho ran toward you, and you immediately stood up, gripping the leash tightly.

“What are you doing here?” you inquired with disdain.

“What? I can’t come to the park now?”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “Whatever. Daisy, let’s go.”

Daisy.

“Hi, Daisy.” He squatted down, and Daisy was quick to approach him, ears folded and tail wagging. She smelled his hand and let him pet her.

“She’s so easy,” he heard you mumble.

“You’re so much sweeter than your owner,” he said bitterly. “Could learn a thing or two from you.”

“Now you’re trying to turn my daughter against me? Okay!”

“I’m not. I’m just stating facts.”

“Yeah, I don’t need to hear your bullshit on a weekend,” you spat.

“Sorry if you can’t handle the truth,” he shot back.

“Okay, that’s enough!” you snapped. He immediately straightened up, and Daisy made her way back to you. You lowered yourself and scooped her into your arms. She was getting a bit too big for that.

“I told you the other day, Stop bothering me. If you don’t like me, then avoid me! Simple.”

He didn’t reply. Instead, he took a few steps back.

“Let’s go, Ace,” he told his dog.

Ace looked at Daisy one more time before following Yunho. He kept glancing back a few more times to see Daisy walking off with you.

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A/N: decided to mix a bit of writing with social media posts for it not to look a bit empty! slowly we’re going to get yunho’s story and so y/n’s teehee ♡

taglist: @bloomyroses @likeathunderoverflow ♡

[aphomic]

Dopie is Ozy's lil meow meow now I don't make the rules here

Doppie tagging behind Ozy's back bc the crowd has suddenly grown larger and he's now anxious

[vynnyal]

Finally finishing totk

[bamfwizard]

"SOMEBODY KILLED MY BEST FRIEND"

my brother in Satan, you are walking out of a burning building, looking absolutely heartbroken, and there is a Queen song blasting

and that man is your BEST. FRIEND.?

[eloquentsisyphianturmoil]

Celegorm should not be held responsible for Lúthien’s kidnap. He was forced by Tolkien’s Catholic ideal of monogamy; Curufin was the original perpetrator and, despite lord of the rings later requiring Celebrimbor as Curufin’s son and banishing the prospect of him loving Lúthien, he remains so in spirit. #freeTyelko

[whatsfourteenupto]

So was anyone gonna tell me that when Ten was regenerating he didn’t just go back and see ‘his’ companions? He went back and looked in on every companion I’m fucking crying

[romicu0]

New vegas isn't exactly the type of game I would generally mod heavily, that being said I have modded it just enough to make boys night with matching jammies a possibility . Boys night did involve a stake out at the Mcbride house

Bonus:

[livesincerely]

this pounding in my heart just won’t die - ch. 1

Rated E. Also on ao3. Companion fic here

00000

It starts as a pretty typical shift, which, honestly, should’ve been his first warning.

They’re responding to a fire at an upscale health and fertility clinic. The sprinkler system’s already taken care of any flames but that hadn’t stopped the people inside from trampling over each other in their hurry to evacuate; he doesn’t envy Chim, Hen, or Eddie at all, watching the three of them struggle to wrangle a crowd of hysterical pregnant people and their partners into some semblance of order.

Which leaves Buck to do a final sweep of the building for any stragglers. 

He’s checking the storage area tucked in the back when he opens a door and is hit with a face full of some kind of… mist?

It's sticky and cloying—almost like a perfume, maybe, but with a bitter edge—and his eyes start tearing up immediately, sinuses stinging. He wipes his face with the sleeve of his uniform, and that seems to help some, but he’s definitely gonna need a shower and a change of clothes when they get back to the station.

“Buckley to Cap,” he calls over the radio. “We’re all clear inside.”

“Copy that,” Bobby responds. “Meet back out front, we’ll regroup.”

He’s chatting with Munroe from Squad 4 when things suddenly shift.

Buck staggers on the spot, hot and hazy with it, something sharp tingling behind his teeth. His vision is swirling, his mouth painfully dry.

He blinks once, then twice, then swallows hard.

“—okay? Your whole face has gone red, man.”

“I’m—“ Buck tries. When the fuck did it so hot? “It’s—“

“Do you need to sit down?” Munroe asks, reaching out to steady him. “I can help you over to the curb—“

Buck bats the hand away, bristling at the contact. “No, no, I’m good—“

A growl cuts through the air behind him, fierce and furious. Munroe startles, his eyes wide, but it’s like Buck’s entire spine softens, tension seeping away as if it was never there.

He’s certain before he even turns. “Eddie.”

“What’s wrong?” Eddie demands, and his hands land on Buck’s shoulders, then shift up to cradle his jaw, his eyes darting over every inch of his face. “Why do you— What happened?”

“I’m fine,” Buck says, relaxing into his hold. There’s something about Eddie’s touch that soothes a part of him that he didn’t know needed soothing. “I got dizzy for, like, two seconds but—“

He stops to take a breath, and that’s when Eddie’s scent washes over him—and by washes over him, he really means that it nearly takes him out at the fucking knees.  

It’s warm and rich, decadent even, like the darkest of dark chocolate with just a hint of something spicy underneath. It’s mouthwatering, it’s addicting, and Buck leans closer, desperate for more.

“You smell really good,” Buck informs him—just in case Eddie didn’t know, because he’s helpful like that. He rubs his cheek against Eddie’s neck, then nuzzles against his jaw, the rough edge of his stubble prickling deliciously against his skin. “Like, really fucking good.”

Eddie makes a noise that’s halfway between a laugh and a groan and his arms curl around Buck’s waist, strong and secure. 

“I smell good?” he asks, incredulous. “I smell— Buck, I can smell you from clear across the lot.”

“No, you can’t,” Buck disagrees, looping his own arms over Eddie’s shoulders to hold himself up. His body feels like taffy: soft and pliable, sticky and sweet. “‘M on suppressants. My scent’s all…” 

He drags the tip of his nose along Eddie’s hairline, then presses his mouth to his temple, breathing him in. 

“Subtle. Muted. Though, there was a study a few years back that found that prolonged suppressant use can sometimes lead to this weird phenomenon where the user starts to spontaneously smell like coconut, but to be honest, their sample size and diversity left a lot to be desired—“

“No, Buck,” Eddie interrupts in a sandpaper-rough voice.  “I can definitely smell you”

“Oh.” Buck considers this for a moment. There’s a thought—an explanation—tickling right at the edge of his consciousness, but it slips through his fingers like dust on the wind. “Do I smell good?”

Eddie makes another one of those noises—low and throaty and a little pained. 

“Chim!” he calls over his shoulder, his arms tightening ever so slightly around Buck’s waist. “Chim, I need you over here!”

“Eddie,” Buck wheedles, curling closer. “You didn’t answer me.” A horrible thought occurs to him, and his voice wobbles just a bit when he asks, “I don’t smell bad, do I?”

“Trágame, tierra,” Eddie mutters under his breath. Louder, he says, “No, querido, you don’t smell bad. You smell like…”

Eddie pauses a second too long. Buck pulls back to look at him, a little afraid of what he’ll find.

But Eddie’s eyes are dark and hooded, those beautiful brown eyes smoldering like embers. His nostrils flare as he takes in another deep inhale, and his gaze turns heated, turns hungry.

Buck’s breath hitches in his throat.

“What’s going on?” Chim interrupts before Buck gets his answer, Hen just a few steps behind. “Who’s… Oh, shit.”

“Hey, Buckaroo,” Hen says, her ‘calming a patient’ voice. “How’re you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” Buck insists, a little annoyed. “It’s nothing—“

“He’s going into heat,” Eddie interjects, his voice tight.

“What?” Buck rears back, confused. “No, I’m not.”

Hen and Chimney exchange a loaded glance. 

“Yes, Buck,” Eddie says, and there’s a fresh tension around his eyes, in the clench of his jaw, that Buck doesn’t know what to make of. “You are.”

Buck scoffs. “I think I’d know if I were going into heat.”

“Yeah,” Eddie rumbles, still watching him with those dark, intense eyes. The corner of his mouth pulls up into something that could be a smile, except it’s just a little too sharp around the edges. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you?”

“But—“ Buck wets his lips, brow furrowed. It’s a struggle to focus on anything besides the sound of his own heart pounding in his ears. “But, I’m on suppressants.”

Eddie arches an eyebrow. Then he slides his hand up Buck’s spine, cups it around the nape of his neck, and squeezes gently.

Heat sears through him like a solar flare, overwhelming and inescapable. A wrecked little whimper forces its way past his teeth and he sags like a puppet whose strings have been cut, his legs refusing to support his weight.

Eddie’s the only thing keeping him upright, pulling him in until he’s flush against him, cradling him tight and keeping him anchored inside his body. Buck clings to him desperately—presses in as close as he can and then presses closer—flames licking at every inch of his skin. 

He wants to curl up against Eddie’s chest and settle there for the next infinity, wants to tuck his head under his chin and press his mouth to his throat and drown in the spiced-chocolate-warmth of him. Maybe Eddie would let him, maybe he’d understand if Buck can explain how badly he needs it, how much he wants it—

He wants—

“Oh,” Buck hears himself say. His voice feels distant, distorted—like it’s coming from the other end of a long tunnel. “I’m going into heat.”

“Whoa, hey, hey,” Eddie says firmly, shifting his grip around until they can meet each other’s eyes. “Stay with me, Buck. Slow, deep breaths.”

“I’m trying,” Buck gasps, his fingers tight in the fabric of Eddie’s uniform. “It’s so hot.”

“I know, cariño, I’ve got you,” Eddie assures him. “You’re doing great. Let’s find somewhere to sit down, okay?”

“O-okay.”

With Eddie’s help, Buck manages to stagger over to the firetruck and collapse against the gripped steps. Chimney gives him maybe half a second to recover, then he’s pressing two fingers to his neck and shining a flashlight in his eyes, his expression pinched with concern.

“Onset is too rapid to be anything natural,” he says, peering down at him. “He was fine at the top of shift—even a stress heat would take a few days to ramp up.”

“It’s a fertility clinic,” Hen points out grimly. “What are the odds they had inducers on-site?”

“Oh, is that what that was?” Buck mutters to himself, dazed.

There’s a moment of silence, then they both start talking at once.

“—aerosolized during the fire—“

“—inhaled them while clearing the building—“

“—no telling how much he was dosed with—“

“We need to get him somewhere safe,” Bobby says, arriving out of nowhere to take charge of the scene. “Get him home—“

But Hen shakes her head. “The inducers are burning through him too quickly,” she says. “He can’t just hunker down at home by himself, his heart could give out. We should take him to the hospital, they can sedate him and flush his system.”

“That shit’s gonna knock him on his ass,” Chim disagrees. “His hormones will be out of whack for months afterwards. It’d be better in the long run if he could work through things with a partner. An alpha, ideally,” Chim clarifies.

Alpha, Buck’s hindbrain whispers, and he’s reaching for Eddie again before he realizes what he’s doing. He pulls him in until he’s standing right between Buck’s knees, curling his fingers through Eddie’s belt loops and pressing his face to his stomach, keening softly.

Eddie lets out a low, rumbling noise, that cocoa-rich scent spiking sharply. Buck nuzzles closer with a sigh, his head swimming with need. 

Around them, the others are still talking, crowded in a makeshift half-circle around them. 

“—know, but I can call Maddie?” Chim’s offering. “She might have a better idea.”

Buck groans. “Oh my god, please do not call Maddie.”

“We won’t call her unless we have to,” Bobby assures him. “But we need to make a decision before this gets out of hand. Now, I know you don’t want to go to the ER, but unless you’ve got an alpha you trust to see you through this, we don’t have much of a choice—“

“Then it's a good thing he does,” Eddie calmly interrupts.

And everything stops. 

 “…What?” Buck croaks.

“I said, it’s a good thing you have an alpha to see you through this,” Eddie reiterates, not that it makes any more sense the second time.

Buck’s lungs seize in his chest, his stomach swooping uncertainly.

“…I do?” 

“Yeah, Buck. You do,” Eddie says, his voice soft and impossibly fond. His fingers sweep across Buck’s forehead, then begin to card gently through his hair. “You’ve always got me. But, only if you’re okay with letting me help you.”

The words fall out of his mouth before he can even think about stopping them. 

“Of course I am,” he blurts, because of course he fucking is. “But…”

“But…?” Eddie prompts patiently.

Buck flounders for a way to point out the obvious. 

“I just— I mean— You don’t have to,” he eventually manages to piece together. “Just because you’re my best friend and an alpha— “My alpha, his instincts purr. “—doesn’t mean you’re, like, obligated to volunteer or—“

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” Eddie says, holding a finger to Buck’s lips to quiet him. 

Buck’s mouth shuts with a soft click. 

“I’m not feeling obligated, Buck,” he continues, emphasizing the word like it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard, “I’m offering because I want to.”

“Yeah, but not because you’re actually interested,” Buck insists, though he’s growing more unsure by the second. “Or, well, no, I guess I probably smell good or whatever, so I know you’re like, biologically interested, but you don’t really want to. You’re just being nice… right?” 

Eddie goes very still. Then he reaches out and—calmly, deliberately—takes Buck’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, tipping his head up until their eyes catch and lock, pulled together like some kind of inevitability.

It’s so incredibly, unexpectedly sexy that Buck feels himself flush, feels his cock twitch and his thighs slick, pinned like a bird beneath Eddie’s gaze.

He doesn’t dare look away. He couldn’t if he tried.

“Listen to me very carefully,” Eddie says, in a quiet, husky voice that’s meant for Buck’s ears alone. “Nothing about you and I has ever been an obligation, Buck. And there’s nothing just nice about the things I want to do to you. Not now, and probably not ever, if we’re being honest. So, if I’m offering to help you through your heat, it’s because I want to. Because I want you. Do you understand me?”

Buck can only nod, utterly speechless.

Eddie studies his expression for a long moment, then continues: “Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, I’m gonna ask you again. Will you let me take care of you?”

“Please,” Buck breathes. “Eds, please.”

Eddie’s thumb grazes gently over his cheek, then slips lower to rest against the swell of his lower lip. “Will you let me take you home?”

He wants to ask one more time, wants to grab him by the shoulders and shake him, wants to whisper, Are you sure? Please tell me you’re sure, that you’re absolutely certain you won’t regret this.

That you won’t regret me.

But Buck’s only human. And he wants. so. badly.

“Yes,” he says.

Eddie soothes a hand down his spine, then tugs him close, brushing a kiss against the center of his forehead. Buck shivers and surrenders.

“Hey, guys?” Eddie says louder, and there’s a strength in his voice that feels like a promise. “I think we’re gonna need a ride.”

[n1ghtwarden]

she won the idgaf war in the shadowfell

[grapecaseschoices]

*squints*

th ... that's it?

if you dont choose to free him you get NO conversation? NONE of the companions approach the Inquisitor about it? They dont say anything when you click them?

[optiwashere]

What does Ashreera and Shadowheart like about each other respectively? Fluff qn :)

Heya anon! I really enjoyed writing the answer to this one 💜

Because I'm me, this got kinda long-winded. All of this is stuff that's in the fics. The fluffy fics show the domestic side of things, but It Is the Wound She Gave Me and Like I Am Safe Again are the linchpins to their relationship. The Gauntlet/Nightsong fic that I'm chipping away at will be equally as important!

But I like typing about my babies soooooooo!

Shadowheart finds Asheera's bad jokes and obvious flirting endearing. Asheera's also pretty forward without disrespecting her boundaries, and Shadowheart loves that. In-game Asheera challenges her without trodding on firm "no" areas, and that's a huge show of respect. Shadowheart's low level of self-esteem gets big validation from someone like Asheera.

Even when Asheera is being a Paladin-ass Paladin™ she is always leaving room in their relationship for Shadowheart to have agency over what to share, who to be, and things like the events in the Gauntlet/Shadowfell. That's not something you get as a Sharran, and from someone that's dedicated to redeeming monsters and creating change in the world... I mean, the themes are right there!

Asheera finds Shadowheart's love of animals very telling of the kind of person she is. Asheera thinks someone who is as willing to say, "I'd rather not talk about this" as Shadowheart has a firm command of what she wants. Even if she needs nudges to know it's OK to express her desires and needs as well as what she doesn't want. The slim difference is actually huge.

Even when Shadowheart is potentially on the road to becoming a Dark Justiciar, and therefore someone that Asheera must kill, she is taking these things for herself that she deserves. Asheera might hate the choice that Shadowheart could make, but it's Shadowheart's choice. Shadowheart spares Aylin for whatever her reasons are (crisis of faith + wanting to know the memories and past that Aylin can give her) but Asheera sees it as someone that's finally embracing the fact that she is a person and she deserves to choose. When Shadowheart turns to Asheera and asks, "what should I do?" Asheera says nothing. She just nods. Shadowheart chooses for herself from that point onward.

As for in a love sense and not just a general "companionship" sense?

Shadowheart loves that Asheera isn't complicated in her love. There's nothing for her to hide with Asheera. She's tired of darkness. Asheera embraces her faults and all the things she's done as a Sharran without any hate in her heart. Though Asheera is a paladin of Redemption, she also doesn't treat Shadowheart as a project to fix. Shadowheart is just Shadowheart, and that makes it easy for her to love Asheera. She likes that no matter how she's feeling, no matter the kind of day she's had, Asheera is there for her. In anger, in joy, and in darkness.

Asheera loves Shadowheart's strength and perseverance, and the fact that she can pick herself up after something that would destroy most people. That she's extremely capable, but also that she's strong enough to share her moments of vulnerability or uncertainty. That she cares so much more than she lets on. That Shadowheart knows she can trust Asheera with anything, and that after a certain point she does.

Love is something that changes shape, especially in long-term romantic relationships. Sometimes the changes are good, though.

[vosquitransitis]

baldurs gate 3 is greatttt. really cool. dnd for people who dont gave enough friends to play dnd with.

[ettadunham]

okay, i was riding pretty high at what i assumed was the end of act 2, but that emperor fight is absolutely bullshit

[vampirebiter]

finished bg3. really good really fun.

[shatinn]

Starfield 104/?