#Who's last name do you want to take home with you?

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part thirty-three —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 4.5k tags: death. blood and gore. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. enemies to lovers. harm to a child. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: clearly I am bad at estimating how long this story will take lol

Alexandre is not as susceptible to pain.

The guard outside his home didn’t register his death, not with Ghost as a shadow at his back. One wrench to his neck, and Kyle plucked the key off his corpse, gently opening the planked door. As the three of them swept the inside, you and Ari hoisted the body in. A sudden crash of breaking glass and the sounds of a struggle made it clear—they got Alexandre. He must have woken up.

But restrained to a dining chair by chains from the slaughterhouse, all he offers up is a bloody tooth on the floor—nothing about Blue or the weapons.

"Brûlez en enfer, pécheurs!"

Ghost snarls and tears a fistful of hair from his scalp. Alexandre only spits more blood, teeth clenched.

"He's wasting our time," you mutter, dread curling in your chest. A glance at the window—the sky could turn deep purple any second. You touch Ghost's elbow. "We should just look for—"

"He'll talk."

Ghost draws the knife. He drives his knuckles into Alexandre’s mouth, smothering the scream as the blade severs his pinky. Blood spills over raw bone. Finally, he writhes—eyes rolling back, knees violently shaking.

"Tell us where everything is, or these go next," Ghost snaps, holding up his middle and ring fingers.

He pulls his fist from his mouth. Alexandre sputters, lips twitching from the pain. Under his breath, he groans, "Sal... Mon enfant."

"What is he saying?" Kyle presses.

Ghost positions the knife at the next digit. "Speak up. English."

Alexandre's eyes threaten to close. He whispers something quieter—

"Salome?" you speak up.

His eyes snap open at the name.

You lower beside Ghost, leaning closer, your eyes darting over his swollen face. "Salome. Your 'enfant.' The child is yours, isn’t it?" A flicker of rage flares in his nostrils, and you quietly press on, "You must be worried about her. She was tending to us, you know. Don’t you want to know if she lives? It'd be a shame if she doesn’t. She was so excited for the baby, especially after losing the first one in the winter. I’m guessing that one was yours, too." You let the words hang, then wet your lips, feigning consideration. "The thing is, it’s been a long night. My memory’s hazy. Can’t recall if I slit her throat or not, but I do remember her begging me to spare her—for the child’s sake."

At this, he jolts. "Tu fais chier—"

Ghost covers his mouth.

You keep your voice smooth. "Maybe if you tell us where the girl and the weapons are, I’ll remember. Otherwise, he’ll kill you, and you’ll die not knowing."

The silence breaks as Ghost drives the knife into the base of his finger. Alexandre grits out, "The girl... I don’t know where my mother kept her. But if sunrise is near... She could be at the chapel now, to prepare."

The one you saw? "How many chapels are there here?" you ask.

"Only one for... offerings."

You glance at Ghost and whisper, "If we can find the road, I could get us back to it."

He nods, not looking away from Alexandre. "The guns," he says. "Where are they?"

"I can... show you."

"You're not showing us shit. Tell us exactly where to find them."

Alexandre holds his gaze. "I could tell you wrong, yes? Waste your time. Or I can show you, and you can kill me if they’re not there."

"Don’t let him play games, Simon," Price calls from behind.

Ghost exhales roughly.

Alexandre looks at you. "But you must tell me of Salome first."

"She's alive," you tell him. "But if you don’t show us where the guns are, it’s not just you who will die."

The chains bite into his wrists as Ghost yanks him up by his soiled lapel. A pistol pressed to his temple, Alexandre stumbles forward, his feet dragging over the corpse at the door before leading you outside. The moonlight feels sharper, casting shadows over the pitted ground as you step carefully beside him, scanning the area. No more alarms yet. But when the guards change shifts, that won’t last.

No one speaks as he leads you around the pasture and barn, toward the back, where the silhouette of a small shed takes shape in the darkness. As you near, a three-tuned call cuts through the air, beckoning Alexandre's gaze to the sky, a soft murmur escaping his lips: "La tourterelle chante pour toi."

"Shut up."

Ghost strikes the back of his head with the gun to silence him.

You stop in front of the shed. It is only just bigger than the one you used to sleep in.

"Is this it?"

"Yes," Alexandre nods. "Inside."

Kyle is the one to kick open the door. As expected, the smell of rusty metal hits your nose as you take in the clutter of rakes, shovels, and scythes. There is a wheelbarrow against the wall with nothing inside but residual soil. No weapons in sight.

Ghost cocks the pistol. "You're fucking around with your kid's life—"

"Under the floor," Alexandre flinches, then juts his chin at the planks of wood, "The extra guns, ammo. It is under there."

Ghost shoves the gun into Kyle’s hand. Without hesitation, Kyle takes over, keeping it steady as Ghost drops to his knees, running his fingers over the floorboards. A sharp knock—hollow. He drives his knife between the slats and pries them open.

The unmistakable glint of metal catches your eye. Rifles. Green and gold cartridges, too. Ghost inhales sharply, tearing up more of the floor. Price moves in, yanking out boxes, sorting through the ammo they need to load up. You linger by the door, glancing back over your shoulder. The guns are yours. Now, you'll need to find the chapel. Maybe Blue isn’t there yet. Maybe you can get there first.

Lost in thought, you almost miss it—that softly cooing dove, the kind you used to wake up to in England. Again, Alexandre mutters in French beside you where Kyle quiets him with a shove at his shoulder. Then you detect a shift in the air—no, you squint and realize it is movement in the grass by the barn.

Alexandre suddenly shouts, "La tourterelle chante pour toi!"

The echo of his words is followed by the crack of a pistol. Kyle’s shot strikes his head, and his body crumples at your feet.

You whip around, panic flaring in your chest as you look at Ghost. "Someone was there. He said something to warn them. They're going to wake up the others!"

Ghost's glare snaps towards Kyle. "The gunshot probably already did."

Kyle releases a growl. "Fuck, I didn't think—"

"Take this," Price interrupts, throwing a loaded rifle at Kyle. 

For you, Nereida, and Ari, a small handgun.

But by the time your finger seeks out the trigger, you hear a myriad of voices shout from the barn.

B

Blue sits at a small table. Across from her is that old woman, eating silently. Only the sound of metal on ceramic, and gentle chewing, fills the dining room. Blue's teeth mechanically grind a tart, red berry into pulp, then let it slide down her throat, her eyes never leaving the white plate. On the faintly reflective surface, a years-old memory blurs into focus.

She sits in the back of her dad’s truck, her small hands folded in her lap. The air is thick with the smell of cigarette smoke. Her eyes are fixed on the passing buildings and people, the streets beginning to feel unfamiliar. Then, her dad mutters something low under his breath, the tires screeching as he sharply veers into a petrol station.

He unbuckles and slams the front door, moving quickly around the truck to help her out. "Come on, kid," he says quietly, lifting her up gently before setting her on the ground. Her hand slips instinctively into his.

"Don’t look at anyone," he mutters as he tugs her toward the small food mart.

"Why, daddy?" she whispers up at him.

"Because I said so."

"Why are we here?"

"I need to get something."

"What for?"

The silence stretches between them, and a cold knot of fear tightens in her stomach. He doesn’t answer, and she can’t remember how they got here. She had been in her bedroom, where her mother had told her to stay. There was shouting through the door before it flung open, then her father grabbed her, and suddenly, her mom’s voice faded behind them.

Her father guides her through the aisles, pulling items off shelves. She tries not to look at the old man nearby, her eyes fixed on the hem of his jacket, her fingers nervously tugging at it.

"Why isn’t my mum coming with us?" she asks.

He doesn't answer. They move to the cash register, and after he pays, they head back to the truck. Her eyes sting. She rips her hand from his and shakes her head, her voice breaking.

"I want to go back, daddy."

"You're not going back."

"I want to!"

He kneels in front of her, gripping her chin as her tears spill. A woman filling her car glances over, and he lowers his voice so only she can hear. "I know you're scared, but listen to me, Amelia. Remember that game we play? The one where the bad guys are after us, and we have to get away from them?"

She nods weakly, tears streaking down her face.

"What do we call each other when we play that game, baby?"

"Blue and Ghost," she answers, her voice small.

"Right. We’re playing it again, okay? But this time, it’s not a game. Right now, you’re Blue, and I’m Ghost. You listen to everything I say so I can keep you safe. Do you understand, Blue?"

She struggles to breathe.

"Tell me, do you understand?"

"Daddy, I—"

"No. Not daddy. Ghost."

"Ghost... please, I want to go home."

His voice repeats her new name, over and over, as he shakes her chin, and she cries harder. She looks over at the woman filling her car as she fades into something strange��milky eyes and grey skin—and when Blue looks back to her father, he’s gone. All that remains is the white plate, stained with red raspberry juice.

"Blue."

Blue lifts her gaze, her eyes locking on the old woman across from her. The woman's leathery skin shifts to grey in the pale moonlight streaming through the window. She chews a berry slowly, takes a sip of milk, then speaks. "Tell me. Why do you call yourself this?"

She struggles to pull her voice to the present, looking back at the plate and quietly answering after a moment, "It is... it is the name I've used to survive."

"You are a strong girl, that much is clear," Maman compliments idly. "But sometimes, God does not want us to fight. There is strength in acceptance."

When breakfast is finished, Eloise brushes her hair until it’s buttery soft down her back. Then, they leave. Blue smells the dew on the grass, her toes curling in her shoes to endure the pain of keeping up with them. No matter how lightly she spreads her weight, the wounds split wider, blood silently squishing beneath her soles. Any blood she left behind would be invisible in the dark, but Ghost always noticed things she never could. She picks at her fingernails as they reach a road, which reminds her of when they were walking through, seeing a few abandoned cars left at the sides.

They walk for some time until she smells the Greys. The rot is pungent in the brisk air. Then, she hears the low hum of hymns coming from a small building—a church. She only knows this because of a deep memory with the old woman she called grandmother who used to take her to one. The stained glass glows faintly with dim golden light inside. They approach the large door, and Blue stands outside it, her knees trembling, but her shoulders managing to stay upright.

Maman glances down at her, hand resting on the door. "In God's presence, Amelia, there is no need to survive anymore. You will accept his punishment—and his forgiveness. Tell me, do you understand?"

Blue grits her teeth.

The voice edges softer. "Do you understand, Amelia?"

"I understand."

Behind her, Eloise takes hold of her wrists and ties them together with what feels like prickly twine.

The door creaks open under Maman’s push, revealing rows of pews and cold stone walls. Blue swallows hard, tasting her own heartbeat in her throat as she takes in everything she can before stepping inside. The narrow aisle spills out into an altar, where the same two Greys they muzzled the other day are chained to the floor, their snarls and moans adding a discordant layer to the throaty hymns echoing from the right side of the church. There, the veiled women sit, their heads bowed. On the left, the men. A bony hand presses at her back, urging her forward. Through the fog of fear, she counts them: just three men, plus Pierre—the one from before—standing beside the leashed Greys.

The lingering scent of old blood mixes with the fresh, sharp tang of melting candlewax. Her footsteps are small, barely making a sound against the stone, and the pain seems to fade into nothingness, until she misteps around a scurrying rat. A sharp pang burns through her foot, forcing her teeth to grind. Tears well in her eyes, but she doesn’t let a single one fall, her focus locked on her surroundings. The flickering candles on the altar, the glint of Maman's knife as she unsheathes it, the flicker of hunger in the endless moans—each step draws her closer to the Greys.

When she finally stops, she stands between them, the chains and muzzles the only thing keeping their mouths from finding her flesh.

As Maman begins to murmur in French, a fleeting thought crosses her mind: Can her mother see her now, dressed in a beautiful gown, having grown into her features, even though the shape of her face still carries the strength of her father's? Can she see the fear she can no longer contain, spilling into violent breaths that tear through her chest?

"Venez vous nourrir de sa chair pure, et en retour, bénissez-nous avec plus de nourriture pour l'hiver et des bébés en bonne santé pour vos nouveaux peuples."

Beneath Maman's words, Blue hears something. A distant, piercing sound that reminds her of a gunshot.

Dad?

She glances at the door, then at the faces around her, but no one else seems to have heard it.

A cold hand snatches her arm, the unwounded one, and Blue whimpers. Then she is turned around to face the pews.

"Une coupure pour les faire festoyer!"

The knife draws a matching cut, the release of blood making the Greys jerk within their restraints.

A man stands and unlocks one Grey's chains, while Pierre handles the other. The screech of metal cuts through the air, and with a shout, the creatures are freed. Blue’s heart slams in her chest. Maman's low, cruel laugh reaches Blue's ears just as she drops to the ground and scrambles backward, bumping into the altar and making it rattle. She screams when rotten hands clamp around her ankles—instinct taking over. She wriggles free of her blood-soaked shoes and kicks them as far as possible toward the people in front of her.

The shoes hit the ground with a quiet squelch, and the Greys snap toward them, momentarily confused by their scent of blood. A veiled woman screams, her dress now stained with a red footprint, and the other women scramble for the door as the Greys hurl through the aisle. In that fleeting moment of distraction, Blue pushes herself up, hands shaking as she clutches the twine binding her wrists. She holds it over the candle, praying the small flame will burn through it.

"Come on, come on."

Just before the twine can snap, a hand yanks at her shoulder to spin her around.

"Stupid girl!"

Blue growls like a cornered animal and spits into Maman’s eyes. Sneering, Maman slashes the knife across Blue’s cheek, sending fresh blood down to her lips. The Greys, no longer distracted, screech as they again zero in on the scent of her bleeding wounds.

Through the pain, Blue strains with all her strength, forcing her wrists apart until the charred twine snaps, freeing her hands. Maman grabs her by the dress, but Blue blindly reaches for the only thing within reach—the candle—and jams the burning wick into the old woman's face.

"Fuck you!"

It is enough to make her writhe in pain, giving Blue the opening to snatch the knife from her hand. With a wrecked cry, she stabs the old woman’s throat, then kicks her in the stomach just as the Greys reach them. Maman’s mouth lets out a final gurgling, blood-soaked cry, and Blue watches, panting hard, as the Greys grab her and tear their teeth into her torn neck. 

"Maman!"

Pierre shouts, rushing over. 

Blue bolts away from them, her soaked feet nearly slipping. She shoves a screaming woman out of her way near the door and bursts outside into the breaking dawn. That's when she hears more gunshots, clearer in the open air, and spots a distant plume of smoke. Without hesitation, she runs in that direction.

T

The first round of gunfire kicks up dirt at your heels before you can even react. Ghost yanks you into a sprint, pulling you away from the shed. Men pour through the barn’s back door, giving chase. Somewhere in the chaos, you hear Price’s voice barking orders, his gunfire answering theirs—but there’s no time to look over your shoulder. Ghost grips your elbow and drags you behind an old tractor, shoving you into cover as bullets whizz through the air.

The others tumble beside you, Price forcing Nereida's head low behind the large tire. 

"There’s nowhere else to take cover," Kyle curses. He and Ghost peek over the tractor, firing off shots, but the sound of pounding boots grows closer. There are too many of them, and not enough time to stop their advance.

You swallow hard, heart pounding, and risk a quick glance around the tractor’s hood. The haystacks are right there, and you remember how dry they felt around your ankles when you covered the corpses. You grab Ghost by the wrist and pull your mouth to his ear so he can hear you.

"The hay is flammable—can you light it somehow?"

His jaw sets in understanding when your words register. He closes an eye and redirects his aim, instead firing rapidly at the base of one of the stacks. Stray sparks leap into the air, and for a moment, your stomach sinks when nothing happens. Then, the straw catches—one spark, then another, and the flames grow fast, swallowing vegetation along the ground. Thick, black smoke whips into the air.

"Il y a putain de feu!"

"Let's move!" Ghost shouts.

You're running again, using the distraction to your advantage, the veiled hood flying off your hair. The sudden silence in the gunfire gives you a moment to look around, and with a rush of terror, you realize that a sliver of sunlight has crept over the horizon. The sky above is no longer the pure black of night. 

"Simon, we have to get to her!"

"Where's the chapel?"

"I don't know! I-I need to see the road to find it."

The farm stretches out in every direction, the lack of light making it hard to see anything far off. You stop for a moment, trying to orient yourself. Maybe if you could just—

Another shot hits the ground, close enough to feel the heat on your toes. You barely catch a glimpse of the men still chasing you before a cloud of smoke bursts from the ground. It’s not from the fire he started—it’s a smoke bomb, just like the one they used to disorient you the first time.

The smoke stings your eyes and lungs. You clamp your mouth shut to avoid breathing it in.

"Drop to the ground!" Ghost growls in your ear, loud enough to hear over the gunfire you can only hope is coming from Kyle and Price. 

You obey, hitting the ground hard with his arm firm around your waist. He grips your dress, guiding you as you crawl through the smoke’s underbelly, where the air is clearer. Down here, you can see just enough to navigate forward, the blind gunfire whizzing harmlessly overhead. But as Ghost hauls you to your feet, a new panic grips you—you can no longer see the others.

"Where are they?" 

Through the tears in your eyes, you can't make out anything past the smoke at your backs. 

"Price can handle it. Come on."

For a brief second, you hesitate, torn between ensuring they’re alright and following him—but the encroaching sunrise makes the decision for you. There is nothing else you can do but keep running, hoping something will look familiar as you weave between nothing but stalks of wheat and the small homes. You’ve gained enough distance to escape their line of fire, and when you look back, the flames by the barn seem to have stopped swelling, but that is all you make out before something rams into your side.

"Femme pécheresse, regarde ce que tu as fait!"

The stray guard wrestles your body to the grass, a blade at your throat slicing a shallow welt into the skin, but he is ripped off you within seconds. Ghost breaks the man's neck, steals the pistol from his belt, then tosses it to you. He takes your free hand to help you up, and only as your finger smoothes over the trigger do you realize your other gun is gone.

He turns to keep moving, and part of you wants to sob in rage that you still don't know if you're even headed the right way. Then you see it—something in the grass. You grab his hand. "Look there. What is that?"

His gaze follows yours to the distinctive red stain embedded into the ground. Faint, but there. He leans down to touch it. "It's fresh."

"It could be hers, Simon," you urge.

He stalks forward, fingers hovering before pressing into a faint footprint. "It's her size. This way."

Blood smears lead you to the main road, and your chest tightens at the sight of the cars. This was the route through Fleurbaix. You recognize it. You scan both directions, spotting a white BMW in the distance—a flash of memory.

"I peed by that car. The chapel’s over there," you say, pointing to the stone roof barely visible ahead.

The sudden pierce of a scream confirms it.

B

Blue barely manages to get far before the sound of booted steps echoes behind her. She flits her head around in panic, ducking beneath the first car she sees and holding her breath. The distinct rustle of chains, accompanied by a snarl, unfurls her eyes. She glances up into the warped side mirror of another vehicle, catching sight of a cloaked figure. That man who'd helped Maman—Pierre—is looking around, one of the Greys in tow, its muzzle back on.

"Come out, petite fille. You cannot hide from a démon. Not when your smell is so strong."

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she uses the sleeve of her dress to soundlessly wipe her bloody cheek as if that might help but pitifully realizes her feet and arm are even worse. The movement causes her bare foot to dig into a sharp rock, and she bites her tongue hard to keep from crying out. The footsteps halt, then switch directions.

When the Grey lunges toward the car, Blue leaps out and runs blindly, adrenaline pushing past the dizziness. Pierre shouts and follows, the Grey leading him, its draw to flesh tracking her even as she tries to weave behind the rose bushes. Spotting a tree, she glances over her shoulder one last time before hugging the narrow trunk and using all her strength to climb. What’s usually easy becomes a struggle as pain shoots up her legs when her feet try to find purchase on the bark. Her grip slips, and she falls hard onto her back.

Before she can lift to her elbows, a frothy mouth leaps in front of her face. She screams, writhing beneath the muzzled Grey, as Pierre hovers over her. "You could have earned God's grace, but instead, you killed her." Bitterness laces his voice. "Maman would want you dead, no matter what form the offering takes."

Blue tries scrambling backward, but a boot steps on her freshly cut wrist, twisting around and effectively pinning her. She chokes on a sob, fingers trembling in the dirt below her. The man reaches down to unscrew the muzzle, and in this moment she prays to whatever stupid god there might be, that Ari was right, that being eaten fully is better than the infection from a mere bite. 

She screws her eyes shut, bracing for the pain, but instead, her ears ring from a sharp sound. A weight crashes down on top of her, and when she opens her eyes, she wonders if she’s been drugged again. There, in her vision, is her father—his bare torso covered in blood and grime, his face contorted with rage as he shoves Pierre into the tree.

"Blue!"

It’s Twix. She shoves the Grey’s corpse off of Blue and scoops her into her arms. Blue freezes, unable to return the hug, her gaze fixed on her father as he rips a knife from his belt and stabs it into Pierre's hands, pinning them above his head to the bark. 

When Pierre tries to kick him, Ghost shoots both his knees. 

"Seigneur, s'il vous plaît, épargne-moi dans l'au-delà!"

The plea is choked off as Ghost rips the lower mandible free, the jagged bone tearing through flesh, leaving the tongue to flop uselessly, twitching and gasping for air. Twix's arms tighten around her, urging her to hide her eyes within her neck, but Blue keeps watching as Ghost snarls rabidly, finishing the kill by slamming the butt of his rifle into Pierre's skull, caving it in with a loud crack.

Only when he turns around, shoulders heaving, does she realize it’s truly him—and not a dream. He kneels on the ground, and Twix releases her into his chest, the solid feel of it absorbing the tremors that wrack through her limbs as she cries. Ghost cups the back of her hair, and despite the pained breath in his chest, he lifts her up, clutching her close. Her nose presses into his neck, struggling to breathe as she inhales the scent of him. 

"D-daddy," she croaks.

"It's me, it's me."

"I-I'm alive."

Something raw pushes through his teeth. "Fuck—you're okay, baby girl. I'm here. I've got you. I've got you." His fingers tighten against her scalp. "Hold tight to me. I won't let you go this time."

"Sal... My child." "You're a pain in the ass—" "The turtle dove sings for you." "The turtle dove sings for you!" "Come feed on her pure flesh, and in return, bless us with more food for the winter and healthy babies for your new people." "A cut to make them feast!" "There's a fucking fire!" "Sinful woman, look what you've done!" "Come out, little girl. You cannot hide from a demon. Not when your smell is so strong." "Lord, please spare me in the afterlife!"

[esotericbluntbaby]

compensation

hamzahthefantastic x reader

description: going against your wishes, your boyfriend decides to fight another match after spraining his wrist the last time he boxed. injured, he returns home to his girlfriend, who can't help but feel more than just "angry."

mentions: boxer!hamzah, bf!hamzah, angsttt, female reader, sub! hamzah, blood, bruises, nsfw!

GUYS IM SORRY I FORGOT TO POST THIS PLS DONT KILL ME

--

this was the first time that hamzah kept you in the dark, betraying your trust in him.

he was always a strong-willed, passionate boy; in fact, it was one of the things you found attractive in him. he kickstarted his youtube with his resilience and determination. giving up was simply not an option for him; one way or another, plan after plan, he'd get his goal even if it meant he had to cut off his limbs and sell them. if hamzah wanted something, he would get it, similar to a horse kicking whenever it's being restrained. though, normally, he knew when to stop pushing, especially when the cost was more than the benefit.

the last time hamzah boxed, his wrist fractured like a 6 year old cracks a wishbone. you, obviously, knew that getting hurt was apart of his hobby; you didn't like it, but you accepted that it was inevitable for some part of him to be banged up and broken. he allowed you to stay in the hospital with him during the time he was getting monitored, meaning that you were allowed to hear the doctor tell him that he had to wait 6 weeks to box again.

during the hospital visit, hamzah realized he had a match in exactly 5 weeks. you argued with him, telling him that there would be no way in hell that he'd be able to box until his wrist is fixed. of course, being as stubborn as a mule, hamzah argued back that he had to fight if his life depended on it. eventually, the night settled in as you laid in bed together that night, cuddling; he told you that you were right. reassuring you that he wouldn't be fighting, he kissed you goodnight. you thought you wouldn't have to worry about it anymore.

that was, until tonight, an hour after the match: when hamzah walked in the front door, bloody and bruised.

his eye began to swell, darkening around the indents of his skull. the black eye that adorned his face was accompanied by a deep gash that exposed the layer beneath his skin. he looked at you with guilt plastered in his banged up face, furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips being muted by the extent of his injuries. you didn't have to guess where he was: you felt betrayed by the fact that you knew exactly what he went out to do. alongside his injuries and deception, came a girlfriend who wasn't going to speak to him.

--

not a single word was said when you grabbed his other wrist and walked to the bathroom with him; the room was filled with silence and guilt radiating off of him. he was currently sitting on the toilet seat as you rummaged around the medicine cabinet for materials that would help you fix his wounds. though you were upset, you weren't going to leave him to tend to his own injuries; you were still his girlfriend, after all. sitting on the floor, you grabbed his wrist to check how worsened it became.

"baby-"

"no, hamzah."

from your previous arguments, you knew that hamzah has a habit of overloading you with pet names. he knew he fucked up; you know he fucked up. him starting his sentence with "baby" helped you realize that he knew he's in the doghouse.

taking the textured, cotton gauze, you began to wrap his wrist with a softness that foiled your emotions towards him. you felt his eyes trained on you like the aimbot of a video game; his gazed fixated on every single movement you made. he noticed the way that you still looked so pretty even when you were mad at him. the way your face looked, tensed and full of agitation, created a pool of guilt that he swam in. he hated making you upset, but he simply needed to box. it was passion. it was commitment. he had to do it; at least, that's what he was telling himself. however, no matter how much he told himself that he had to fight, he knew it was wrong of him to go against your wishes and back. he knew you wanted the best for him and his physical being.

"i'm sorry. i shouldn't have gone tonight. i was being stupid and i shouldn't have went behind your back like that."

you listened to him apologize, yet, didn't respond. in fact, you didn't even look at him. there was no acknowledgement of his apology; it was almost like it never even happened in the first place. he needed to know how truly upset you were. instead, you focused on wrapping his wrist with a second layer of gauze, to keep everything in place.

"baby, please. just talk to me- i don't care if you cuss me out or give me hell for betraying you like that, just- please talk to me," his mannerisms were tense and rushed, "how do i fix this? how do i get you to speak to me? i'll do anything- i swear- you want me to quit boxing completely? i will. you want me to do all the housework in this house? i will- i'll do every single chore. shit, if even just sitting in a corner for days with no food or water would get you to speak to me, i'd do that. please, baby- please."

you finished wrapping the gauze by the time he finished his speech about what he'd do to get you to speak to him. you began to touch his face, examining the bruise on his eye and cheekbone like a scientist looking through a microscope. suddenly, he grabbed you by the cheek, forcing you to look up at him.

"i'm sorry. please, just speak to me. i'll do anything. talk to me. i just wanna hear your voice."

listening to him yearn for your voice made you feel a certain type of way. yes, you were mad. however, in a way, this whole situation was turning you on. you hated to admit it, but your boyfriend looked attractive with a black eye and bruised cheekbone. the fact that he was begging for you to speak to him made the sexual tension you were feeling within you even worse. his submissive side was creating a potion of ecstasy in your stomach; you wanted to see how far he'd go.

you sighed, "i don't know anymore, hamzah. you told me you wouldn't. i trust you less."

"i know, pretty, i'm sorry. i'll earn it back, i promise. i shouldn't have gone tonight. i was being an idiot."

standing up as his face followed where your eyes were, you rubbed it against his open wound, earning a wince from him as he gripped onto your waist. butterflies emerged in your stomach, causing you to feel similar to how light a fairy is.

"thanks for the warning," he said with sarcasm and irritation laced in his voice, opening his eyes from the hard shut he indulged in

"you don't deserve one."

he pulled you onto his lap, causing you to straddle him on the toilet seat. taking your cheeks, he cupped your face in his hands and sighed. he looked at you with a level of submissiveness you haven't seen in him. normally, hamzah was the dominant one; yet, you didn't mind that the roles switched.

"what can i do to get you to not be mad at me?"

"i dunno. you're a smart boy," you grabbed his cheek and stroked it with your thumb, "figure it out, baby."

you saw a lightbulb flicker on in his eyes. he sensed the tension in the room wasn't only angry, but there was also sexual tension in its silver lining.

"you want me to make it up to you?"

you leaned towards his ear, now whispering, "how are you gonna do that, hamzah?"

you felt something poke at your ass from beneath you, a slight twitch emerging from it too. your words made him as hard as a rock.

that's so fucking hot.

"baby, i thought you were mad at me."

"oh, i am. trust me, i'm fucking pissed."

he kissed you on the cheek, "i'm sorry."

he kissed you on the jawline, "i'm sorry."

he kissed you on the lips, "i'm sorry."

moving down to your neck, he kissed it longer than the pecks he gave you previously. you felt a sucking motion, as well as his tongue swirling on your sweet spot, shortly after. your breath got heavier, almost as if your lungs were being weighed down by hot air. your lips parted as he sucked a dark spot onto your neck.

"i'm sorry, pretty girl. forgive me?"

"not yet."

his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, "why not?"

"i need more than that."

"tell me what you need, pretty. i'll do it."

you leaned closer to his ear, kissing his neck and the area between, "you know what i want from you."

standing up from the toilet seat, your legs wrapped around his waist as he carried you to your bedroom. your lips began to intertwine with his as he walked through the hallway, your tongues melting together like two lollipops on a hot day. he laid you down on the bed, still kissing you with everything he had; he needs you to forgive him.

letting go of your lips, he moved closer to the edge of the bed, taking off your shorts and leaving you in your underwear. feeling exposed in front of hamzah was always nerveracking in your own way; however, this time it was different. you knew hamzah had to please you, leaving you with a newfound confidence.

"are you okay with this?" he asked, exhibiting a level of care that you were all too familiar with.

"do whatever you want to me, hamzah."

taking your underwear off, you were left laying on top of your sheets in a tank top. his arms wrapped around your legs like a snake to its prey, prying your legs apart with a sense of desperation.

"you're so pretty like this baby," he kissed the inner part of your thigh, "you're so fucking pretty."

he spit on the area between your legs, earning a subtle gasp from you. his tongue began to lap on you, dropping saliva on the area of you that was already wet. between your legs, you felt the roughness and neediness of his tongue. his hands squeezed your inner thighs as pleasure began to unravel the metaphoric yarn located in your stomach. hamzah was eating the fuck out of you, leading to your moans getting louder and louder with each and every movement his tongue created against you.

his tongue produced a dance that only the both of you would know. some parts were as fast as light, while other ones were full of yearning and slowness; he knew exactly how to balance it for you to feel the best that you could feel.

your hands made its way to his hair, "you're so pretty like this, hamzah. my boy- my pretty boy."

his movements got faster as his grip against your thighs tightened even more, as if you were going to fly away if he let go. similar to his hands, you squeezed his hair as his movements quickened in pace; you could feel the yarn unraveling like a rubber band about to snap.

"f-fuck- hamzah, i'm close-"

he kissed your core, before his tongue sped to a pace you haven't felt before. you watched him eat you out like there was no tomorrow, leaving loud moans echoing the room, before he felt you release into his mouth. kissing it once again, he looked up at you as his hands massaged the pillows that he was in between. you looked at each other with love while he watched your heavy breathing and fucked-out expression.

"forgive me?"

"i forgive you. please go box someone else, baby."

confusion was apparent in his face, "what?"

"you're so fucking hot when you're bruised and yearning."

--

author's note!

this is so short omfg i hate using anatomical words for smut LOL more coming soon!

[lostonravenna]

the issue is, saying it like this inspires people not to take it as seriously. yeah your crackhead neighbor tearing out their copper doesnt affect you... 'til they get a bad batch and catch you walking their dog with one of the many pipes they've ripped out of the wall in their hand and rage in their mind. this administration is beyond dangerous, they're deadly. they've already sent people to guantanamo bay. the redefinition and legal classification of sex bans trans and nonbinary people from existing federally (they can have a X gender marker on their Oregon ID, but their passport must have either M or F, forcing the person to either have no passport, or go through the trauma of reversing an X marker change on a state level.) which disallows such people from easily leaving the country without massive legal and financial burden. it costs nearly $500 to change one's name legally where i am, i don't want to think about gender marker changes... this sets the gov't up to argue about the US's declining birth rates, giving them a further opportunity to restrict marriage laws on the basis of a declining population. what they're doing with education follows their plan of bringing women out of the workforce. notice how along with any "racial" DEI hire praises, female accomplishments/praises have vanished from the NASA website? let us not forget that landing on the moon and beating the Soviet Union in the space race had every bit to do with a woman writing stacks of code taller than herself on sheets of paper.

alone.

women working is bad, because it means nobody is home to care for the 4+ children a Healthy American Home should have. don't get me wrong, i want children myself. being a parent is my dream. but this is not the world or economy i imagined raising my children in. my mom's tank used to be nearly on empty and she could fill it with change to spare on $20.

the US doesn't have much to spare. we cannot support ourselves entirely alone. we do not have existing farms, or even the climate, for half of the food we consume. we do not have oil digs and rigs or even sites that contain oil or gas plentiful enough to sustain our own gas demands. we do not have both the fresh water needed for server cooling and citizen use. there are multiple cities in the US who give 10-20% of their local clean water to the massive server hosts in the area powering things like ChatGPT.

we cannot maintain ourselves like this. the US has "always been" the melting pot of the world, and these days people seem to forget that the white man came last.

[wlwsoccerfics]

Club Support(RenéeSlegersXKyraCooneyCrossXSlegersReader)

Summary: you go to a Game to support your Mom and the team. One of the Girls Starts flirting with you without knowing who you are.

You sat in the friend and family section during the Game against Aston Villa. Your moms Team won 4-1. You were quite proud of your Mom. She was the new headcoach for Arsenal, which always happened to be your favorite Team. Altough you weren't doing anything Football related. You were a firefighter/EMT. You just turned 23 and enjoyed working out. You did Basketball as a hobby.

After the game you walked onto the field. Before you could approach your Mom a brunette showed up right in front of you.

"well hello. Who do we have here? You must have fallen from heaven cause you look like an Angel!" Kyra said with a Mix of flirting and trying to Joke. You giggled a little.

"Not am Angel. Just a firefighter & EMT." You explained. "And my Name is y/n!" You added on. Renée was watching the whole interaction from a few feet away, standing next to Steph & Leah.

"does she know she is flirting with your daughter?" Leah asked.

"nope! She wasn't there when y/n picked me up after practice last time! She was in with the Physio." Your mom answered.

"Oh little pest is in for an emotional Rollercoaster once she finds out." Steph replied with a soft chuckle escaping her lips. Both Leah & your Mom were laughing. You glanced over to them. Knowing exactly what they were laughing about.

You then return to look at Kyra who then proceeded to flirt asking if she can buy a calender of you dressed in your firefighter gear.

"you can't buy a calender but if you play your cards right i can make you one!"you told her, winking at her. The face she made when you said this was priceless and you weren't the only one thinking that cause now your Mom, Leah and Steph where joined by Lia, Alessia, Katie , Caitlin & Beth.

"oh this Is fun to watch!" Beth said. Alessia and the others couldn't help but agree.

"even as one of her best friends i have to agree with you!" Alessia answered.

"this Is comedy gold!" Katie stated.

"can i take you on a date then. Cause i am sure i can Play my cards right!" Kyra let you know.

"i love your confidence!" You answered. Waiting for a few seconds to add something to your statement. "I mean it's so bold of you to just ask me out and flirt with me while my Mom is around!" You let her know.

"where is your Mom?" She asked and looked around. "What does she look like?" Kyra wanted to know. Which was your moms queue to walk over. The Girls from her team where excited about this like it was Christmas Eve.

"i see you have met my daughter." Your mom said and smiled amused. Patting Kyras shoulder and hugging you. You hug her back.

"hi Mom!" You replied. Laughing at kyras face. She stared at the two of you, mouth wide open and her eyes looked like they were gonna fall out of her skull. She was brought back to the Moment by all the Girls laughing. Katie was bend over, hitting her knees with her fists. She absolutly lost it.

"oh pest this Is hilarious!" Steph said in between laughs. Kyra flipped her off, she was about to walk away in embarrassment but you stopped her, gently holding her arm.

"so about that Date? how about i take you out tonight? Or you could come to my place and i can cook for you!" You suggested.

"but Renée, i mean your Mom is my Coach..." She started but your mom interrupted her before things would get awkward again.

"my daughter is an adult. So are you! If you want to go on a date i am all for it as long as it doesn't affect your performance in a negative way!" Your mom told her.

"thank you! It won't!" Kyra said with a smile. You kissed her cheek.

"Take a shower and then meet me in the parking lot. I am taking you home with me right away for Dinner and a movie!" You told her. She walked past the girls, now she was the one grinning and the Girls looked quite impressed that she actually managed to get a date with you after that.

Didn't take long for you to get together and you went to almost every Game. When you weren't working of course. Wearing an Arsenal Jersey with cooney-cross written on the back of course.

[mastermindmiko]

Finally

Pairing: Sirius Black + Reader

Summary: Sirius reunites with his girlfriend after many years in Azkaban

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: None, I believe, but lmk

Hey! If you think this didn't completely suck, feel free to check out my masterlist

The ministry’s guards have been following me around for the last two days. They follow me to work and back to my home. There is a guard positioned in front of my office that stays there, surveilling anyone going in or out. I’m sure they’d have one at my home, if I didn’t so clearly state my distaste for the idea, going on a small rant about my rights. 

I wish I could’ve said that I was unexpecting of be pulled out of my work in the middle of the day. Three days after the papers printed out the news, and I had caught a glimpse of his adult face for the first time in years. Despite the disheveled hair and maddening stare with the manic scream, it was still him. 

The interrogation room is exactly like I thought it would be. Remus had described it in his letters, he was his friend after all, it made sense to interrogate him as well. There’s only a few people present in the room, most of them being guards and secret keepers. The veritaserum is present in a small vile, on an even smaller table. I sit down in front of it and take a small sip. 

The auror raises an eye at me, I gulp down the whole potion. I can already feel the effects start to take place, it’s getting more difficult to hold my tongue. The auror grabs a piece of paper from the secret keeper next to them and the reporter holds more tightly to her pen. 

“Please state your name.” 

The first questions are standard procedure, making sure that the veritaserum is in full effect. It’s basic questions: my name, my age, my occupation. The Auror clears his throat and I straighten my back ready for the actual questions. His voice bellows as he speaks, “Have you had any contact with Sirius Black?” 

“No, I have not.” I reply, and as much as it pains me to say it, it’s the truth. The Auror’s eyes narrow at me suspiciously. I can hear the quill scratching at the parchment paper, my answer recorded. He asks, “Have you been in contact with anyone who has been in contact with Sirius Black?” 

“No, I have not.” I repeat, and feel the boredom steep into my skin, not just annoyance that was already present. I had wished that he had contacted me, but surely, he was waiting for the trials to be over, he wouldn’t want to get caught. 

“Do you know anyone who Sirius Black might try to contact?” 

“Do you have any ideas as to where he might hide?”

“Are there any people who might’ve aided him in his escape?” 

“Have you aided him in his escape?” 

The questions go on and on, and I watch the arrows of the clock tick and tick till an hour of my day is gone. The Auror is on his last paper with the last necessary questions. He asks, “And finally, what was your relationship with Sirius Black?” 

“I was his girlfriend.” 

***

“I’m not sure I like this.”

“No, don’t worry, you’ll love this surprise.” Remus teases, hinting at something I don't understand. I had received a letter from Remus, entailing anything except for the fact that the order is coming back together. For the second time, to fight off Voldemort. Harry needed more people around him that believed him more than anything.

I open my eyes and my breath hitches when I see him. He looks older from what I remember and much more sane than the pictures that the daily profit prints.I can imagine that if I’d ask him, he’d just smirk and flirt. He’d say that thoughts of me held him over. He’s got his hair slicked back and his beard trimmed. The dirt that would’ve covered his skin from the confinement in Azkaban, nowhere to be seen. He wanted to make a good impression, and that was too bad. 

“Actually, I’m sure that you’ve loved this surprise for a while now.” He says He walks me towards an unknown room in Grimmauld Place 12. The new location for the order is odd, and quite awfully random. I wasn’t sure how Dumbledore agreed, it seemed such an obvious place to hold a resistance against Voldemeort, but maybe that was the brilliance of it.

Remus was being awfully ominous, he’s been hinting about this surprise for a bit, and now that he’s finally leading me towards it, I feel anxious. I clutch my bag tightly in my hand and try not to look like I want to open my eyes so badly, aching to not try to take a subtle peek through my fingers that covered my eyes.

Remus shuts the door behind us and positions me.  He lets go of my shoulders, and shouts, “Surprise!” 

The feelings of relief from seeing him, all gone out the window as my fist clenches in anger and my blood boils. Why had he not spoken to me? Been out of Azkaban for two years, and not a single word. How dare he rob me of this relief?  Everyday coming home from work to eagerly check my letters and find none with his name. Looking deeply into the fire escape, hoping to see a familiar face, but don’t.

I rush over to him and start slamming his shoulders and chest with my bag. I shout, “You’ve been out of Azkaban for two bloody years and you haven't come to find me till now, you idiot!” 

“Ow,ow,ow! Darling, please stop.” He says, moving away from my bag and my fists, but I take a step towards him. I feel my eyes water at the nickname and how much I’d missed his voice. He holds my wrists and pulls them down, taking the bag from my hands and flinging it to the ground. 

I look at him again, and there he is. The boy I fell in love with,now a man, but with the same mischievous glimmer in his eyes. He smiles when he notices that my defenses have been let down, and my eyes softened. He always knew me too well. I feel my eyes burn and I press my lips together, urging the tears to stay back.

“I’ll give you guys some space.” Remus whispers before leaving the room. Sirius shoots him a smile and then turns back to me when the door closes. He looks skinnier, being on the run tends to do that. His cheeks are more hollowed out, but definitely filled out more since his initial escape. I wonder if he knows that I look at his pictures everyday. Sirius whispers, “How is it that you’re still getting more and more beautiful?” 

“How is it that you didn’t come find me? Or contact me at all? Harry’s been talking to you, he’s told me about the letters, and apparently you’ve been talking to Remus too.” I ask, avoiding his expert technique in changing the subject. He lets go of my wrist and I feel my fingers twitch, aching to get a hold of him again. He sighs, and says, “I was in Azkaban for twelve years.” 

“So?” 

“So…you could’ve moved on, and I-” He admits, pausing to let out a shaky breath. Fourteen years didn’t change the man that I knew. The mannerisms are the same, the same nervous shifting and awkward, but devastating smile. He continues, “I wasn’t ready to see that. Don’t think I am now, but it seems like it’s been long enough.” 

“It’s been too long.” I say, and take a final step towards him. I gulp and reach out to take his hand. I feel the softness of his finger tips, sliding my hand over his, feeling the lines of his palm and his callouses. It’s all the same and I can't without the sigh that breaks out from my chest. The first proper touch from the love of my life. He grips my hand the same way he always did, lock and key. I pull him tightly against me, hug him. For years, this is all I’ve wanted, and now it’s here.

“Have you?” Sirius asks, and I pull away, frowning and confused. I ask, “Have I what?” 

“Moved on?” Sirius asks, tentatively, part of him not wanting to know, instead wanting to live in an ignorant bliss. To me, it’s a stupid question. I smile, “No, how could I move on when you’ve taken my heart eighteen years ago, and so selfishly haven’t given it back to me?” 

“I don’t think I’ll ever get around to giving it back.” He grins so widely I think his face might break. He leans down and captures my lips in a heated kiss that’s filled with so much emotion, the emotions that neither of us could’ve expressed for a long time. 

a/n: hope you guys enjoyed! I have a feeling that I've been writing too much Sirius Black, though I'm not complaining

I feel a few tears finally escape my eyes, I can’t believe that he’s actually here, in front of me, kissing me after all this time. He wipes them away with his thumbs and cradles my face with his hands. For the first time in twelve years, though maybe without friends and heart bruised and more broken than before, I don’t feel alone. 

[insomniadreamzz]

Is this real?

Arcane Alternate Ending Fanfiction

Contains Jinx x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of death, blood, angst

Jinx can still remember the moment that made her heart shatter and the little glimpse of happiness in her fade away forever. You were about to help Vander with Victors help but the Noxians had to destroy your hope of a family reunion. The moment Isha grabbed Jinx‘s gun, rushing towards Vander and aiming to shoot, you running after the girl, knowing she meant so much to Jinx but then there was the explosion and Vi dragged her sister Jinx away from the explosion, wanting to save her.

The explosion was the last thing she remembered before everything went down. Jinx had lost the two people she truly loved and who gave her happiness for once. Now it was all gone and she couldn’t help but blame herself for this. She should have saved you and not letting Vi drag her away but all she could do in that moment was scream your name and scream for Isha. There was no point for her to keep going. Jinx gave up, letting the Enforcers put her into jail for everything she did in the past, paying for all her crimes. Being alone in that cold cell without shoes, without her belt weapons, it made her feeling lost. The silence was very loud, Jinx started hearing voices again, getting back to her old behavior since the two persons who silenced them are gone now.

She fumbled with her braids until she undid them fully, her long blue hair spread across the floor, fingers bloody by the non stop pinching on the skin around her nails. As if that wasn’t enough, Jinx even starved herself. The food wasn’t even disgusting at all, it was good compared to what you would get down in Zaun but Jinx had to will to live at this point anymore, spending the time sitting curled up in the corner, hurting herself and crying a lot until there were no tears left to cry anymore.

…

„Come on you can do this!“ You said as you carried the little figure in your arms, Isha’s and your own clothes being smeared with blood as you rushed home. You didn’t know what happened to the others, you only knew they weren’t here. Jinx wasn’t here. This didn’t matter right now, you had to focus on taking care of the girls wounds first and then think about finding Jinx.

Isha had a wound on her head and stomach but she wasn’t the only one being hurt. Since you tried to get the gun away from the little girls hands, the explosion damaged your hand. All that was left on your left hand now was only your thumb and ring finger, all the other three fingers got damaged too much, your small finger got blown off completely whily your index and middle finger got halfway blown off. These conditions you were in made it hard for you to take care of Isha’s wounds since you needed two hands. „Fuck!…“ You grumbled under your breath, ignoring your own pain as you focused on cleaning Isha’s wounds with your right hand.

„May I help you?“ A familiar voice echoed through Jinx’s hideout, it wasn’t your lover but someone you knew you could trust.

„Sevika!“ You shouted, tears in your eyes as you saw the older woman getting close to you. It was really her.

„Damn kiddo I know the feeling of losing limbs caused by explosions.“ She continued as she looked down on your left hand, making a hurtful expression, scrunching up her nose, knowing the pain.

„It don’t matter. Please take care of Isha first. I can use my right hand to stop the bleeding until you can help me wrap it up okay?“ You mentioned and Sevika just nodded, taking care of Isha‘s wounds. „Youre lucky. Her wounds aren‘t that deep but I guess she fainted from the shock which is understandable for a little girl.“ Sevika mumbled under her breath, soon finished cleaning the little wounds and wrapping them up before putting a blanket over her little body, then she focused on your wound.

You hissed every time the cloth with alcohol hit your wound, the stinging pain making you want to scream but you kept yourself back from that. It took Sevika a little time to wrap the bandages tight enough your hand so the blood will stop running, it hurt you but you knew it’s only for your own good. „Damn you really saved a life. I am proud of you.“ Your eyes widen at hearing Sevika saying this. You expected anything but that. „Thank you…I just couldn’t let this happen…but I need to find Jinx.“ You said and Sevika gave you a understanding nod. „Please take a rest. If not for yourself do it for Isha because she needs the rest. Then you can find Jinx.“

You weren’t satisfied with that, knowing Jinx was very unstable and might do something, you can’t let her think you are dead. „No Sevika I am losing time. Please stay here with Isha I beg you. Take care of her until I come back and I promise I will take Jinx with me.“ You insisted and Sevika just nodded in response with her arms crossed. „Fine but take care of you kiddo.“

…

Jinx heard footsteps getting closer, thinking it was just one of her hallucinations or a guard. She didn’t even care to look, keeping her head buried into her arms that rested on her knees. The only thing causing her head to snap up was your voice.

You felt your eyes water at the sight of Jinx being in there, all alone on the cold floor. It broke your heart. „Jinx…?“ You carefully said, her head snapping up to look at you, eyes wide, her dark makeup all messy under her eyes. She looked like she cried for days and you know she didn’t just look like it, she did cry for days.

„Stop…n-no. No you are not real.“ Jinx panicked, she already had a hallucination of Silco before and now you? No way she couldn’t take it. „Go away! I beg you get out of my head. I can’t do this anymore!“ She held her head, hands grabbing a fist full of her own hair as she shook her head, body shaking in fear.

„Hey…it is me. I am real. I know you think I died but I am alive, I am not dead.“ You tried to explain but Jinx clearly shut down. It was impossible to get through her like that so you used the keys Vi gave you and opened the door to her cell. Stepping inside, you saw Jinx looking up with fear at you which made your heart ache but you already knew her in that state so you did what you always do, being calm as you crouched down in front of her. „I will give you time. Just calm down…“ You said with a low, calm voice.

Jinx muttered something to herself, not really audible for you but you didn’t mind, staying there until she noticed you weren’t going to leave, making her slowly look into your eyes and then look down at your damaged hand. „You…are hurt…“ She mumbled and you gave her a little sad smile, nodding. „Yeah…the explosion caused it. I am sorry you thought we are dead. I wished I could find you earlier but…I needed to take care of Isha.“ You told her and when you mentioned Isha, Jinx‘s eyes widened. „Isha! Is she…?“ You interrupted Jinx with a smile. „Isha is alive.“ With that, Jinx cried but this time out of happiness as she leaned forward to hug you so tight, her fingers clutching onto you as if she was scared you would slip out of her hands. „God! I was so scared…“

You hugged her back, keeping your love as close as possible. „It’s okay Jinx…it’s all okay. Isha is with Sevika she is taking care of her while I went to search for you.“ You reassured her, happy tears running down your cheeks as well.

You kept staying in each other’s arms for a while before she pulled back, cupping your cheeks to admire you. „It is really you. You are real. You are not just in my mind right?“ Jinx was still not fully believing this. You out your hands on hers, keeping on smiling at her. „Of course it’s me. The real me.“ You said once again and there it was again, the happy spark in her eyes before she crushed her lips against yours, kissing you so deeply. You immediately kissed back and both of you shared a loving, deep kiss, never wanting to part again.

…

It wasn’t over yet. Jinx and you spend a lot of time preparing for the last fight after you got her out of jail. She was ready to use her knowledge for building things for good. After Jinx made sure to see Isha again, she got even more motivated. Her happiness came back again after the emotional reunion, having Isha back into her arms again, seeing she was doing well except the little scratches on her body. Thanks to you, she survived and all three of you were together now and Jinx swore to herself she won’t ever let anything part you.

Jinx made you mechanic fingers just like she had which was, like she said ‚something she can fix‘. And you loved them. You adored how much she wanted to help you and do good things, not only building weapons to kill.

„Now it’s time to kick some Noxian asses don’t you think babe?“ You heard Jinx‘s voice, turning from painting the last things on the balloon which will help this whole old fan to fly. When you looked at Jinx, your eyes widen. She literally cut her hair short, only her long bangs being left of her old hairstyle, you immediately noticed the little pink colour in them, referring to Vi. „Wow someone really want to change things up huh?“ You chuckle, loving to see your girlfriend like that, she looked perfect to you no matter which hairstyle.

„Yep! But we need to make some more changes.“ Jinx said with her usual cheery voice before she ripped your shirt, making a crop top out if it. „Wha-…“ You started to complain but she cut you off with a little kiss on your lips. „No talking toots! We need to focus.“ She said before taking off her own shirt, replacing it with her belt to cover her nipples and part of her breasts, leaving you speechless.

„No way you gonna look this sexy in front of Isha.“ You managed to say but the blush on your face told her you really liked the view and wanted to eat her and kiss all over her body but there was no time for it.

„Ah fine.“ Jinx was easy to convince which was a surprise but you didn’t mind. Instead you wrapped a bandage around her chest before spraying a pink ‚x‘ on it, smiling satisfied at your work. „There better.“ You mentioned and with that you brought her to another idea. You both ended up chuckling as you painted on each other’s bodies and clothes, leaving kisses every now and then. It was a beautiful intimate moment you shared, something that meaned even more than sex. It was just beautiful.

When both of you were finished with your little doodles on each other and making matching hoods for each other that looked like a shark which was her favorite, you finally were done to help the others getting rid of the Noxians which caused enough trouble between Piltover and Zaun like you already had.

„Are you ready my love?“ You asked and Jinx smiled with a nod before pecking your cheek. „Yes I am and I won’t let you out of my sight, we either win or die together.“ Jinx said but you shook your head. „We will live together. Both of us will stay alive I promise that.“ You stated, squeezing your lovers hand gently.

You were so ready for this.

[fizzing-imagines]

Ink | Customer! Eddie Munson x Tattoo Artist! Reader

Notes: OOF this took me a while, but it's here! Enjoy!

Words: 3k

Warnings: Drinking

Eddie was your favourite customer for multiple reasons.

For one, the tattoos he wanted were exactly what he wanted. Two, he loved every idea you had, and also made his next appointments every time you finished a piece. Plus, he tips well, which is a nice bonus.

On the other hand, you had to shamefully realise that you developed a small crush on him. Which is funny, considering his tattoos were skulls, snakes and bats while you had a huge Sailor Moon sleeve on your right arm and nothing but flowers on the left one.

You were Eddie's favourite tattoo artist. With your chatty self, you always managed to distract him from the pain with stories from your life. Your artwork was nothing less than amazing, and always up his lane. He thought it was funny that you specialised in black and white for anything weird or creepy while he always walked into your pink and purple tattoo shop with a variety of Disney movies playing on the TV standing on a wooden shelf, mounted to the wall.

In addition, he had a crush on you. He's had crushes before, but not like this. This one was different than the others. Maybe it's because you always told him about what your Dachshund at home was up to, or when you told him your brother asked you to be your nieces godmother. It was just...special. His special time between you and him.

Today, he wanted a black and white cecropia moth over his shoulders and upper back. Eddie was so excited for this appointments the entire week, so much so that he was already grinning while walking in. "Who do we have here.", you said with an equally wide grin the second you spotted him. "Your favourite client, I assume.", he said while taking off his jacket. It was very clear that Eddie was your favourite customer, although you never said that out loud. "Considering we're all alone, you can assume correct.", you replied. As per usual, he made his way over to your station and waited for your okay to take his shirt off. "What ya' think?", you asked as you showed him the drawing of the moth. As per usual, it was perfect. "Alright, so you can take off your top for the stencil. Amy is coming in later today, so if you want the partition then just let me know."

This wasn't your first time seeing him shirtless, yet you couldn't help but look a bit from the corner of your eye. You hated yourself for this dumb crush, it was beyond unprofessional. On the other hand, Amy met her fiance at the studio as well. "I think I'll be fine without it, but thank you." He put his shirt underneath the chair, which was your que to get the stencil on his back.

"Alright, you ready?" He got comfortable on the chair, you put The Little Mermaid in the VHS player and started tattooing. "Same procedure as always, when the pain gets to much I'll tell you about Hot Dog." That was your Dachshund, who you also lovingly addressed as your son. "What have you been up to?" Eddie told you about his recent gigs, how band practice went and that Gareth proposed to his girlfriend at the last gig. Especially the last part made you happy. Gareth came in for a tattoo as well a few months ago, and he was such a kind person. He got quiet two hours in, which was your que to start talking. "Hot Dog is getting a sister. I found an elder dog at the shelter, and I'm taking her home next week." Eddie found the pain much more bearable when you talked to him. Your voice was like music to his ears. He even noticed how your voice changed whenever you talked about Hot Dog. "What's her name?", he asked in an attempt to forget about the pain. "Marly. She's an 11 year old german shepherd with maybe 4 teeth left." Eddie stiffled his laugh to not mess up the tattoo. "Hot Dog likes her a lot, that's why we picked her. Maybe I should bring both some time." Of course they couldn't stay in the studio, but you and your colleague Amy had a small staff room that they could stay in whole you worked on his tattoos. "Would be nice.", he said. His tone was an indicator that he needed a break. "Outline's done, I started on the shading, time for a break."

You put some paper towels on his back and fixated them with tape before letting him go outside for a smoke break. "All shirtless?", you teased him. He chuckled while looking for his cigarettes in his jacket. "It's just the backyard, nobody's gonna see me." You giggled a bit and watched him walk out the backdoor for his smoke break. In the meantime, you had a quick snack and tidied up your station. Eddie always had two cigarettes, you knew him that much already. Since the Cinderella movie was long over and already played twice, you also looked through your VHS collection to pick a new movie. He came back in while you were deciding between movies. "Got a good pick?", he asked while putting his cigarette away. "You mind if I switch it up and put in Sailor Moon instead of Disney?" How could he, when your grin was so adorable. "No Disney? How scandalous.", he joked. You laughed a bit while getting up to replace the VHS. "You can lay down again, I'll be there in a minute."

You kept talking him through the pain with silly stories. How your niece got into the cookie jar and his in the closet with it, that Hot Dog messed up your couch, that your brother had to help his daughter practice ballet in a tutu of his own. Eddie was laughing along until you told him about the terrible date you had last week. "So we went on a walk, and he asked me if our kids would be born with tattoos since I messed with my DNA." That was the only part that was mildly funny through his jealousy. "But I pretty much ran when he said he'd propose on the spot. Haven't called him since, and I don't want to." You noticed that he got oddly quiet after that. For what? For a few minutes, the room was filled with sounds from Sailor Moon playing on the TV.

Meanwhile, Eddie's jealousy was what kept him distracted from the pain. How could a guy get a date someone so perfect and mess it up so bad? He wouldn't treat you like that. "You okay there?", you asked him. He let out a low hum in response, music to your ears, and made up a quick excuse. "It's just really painful right now." That was no surprise, you were shading on his shoulderblades right now. It's reasonable enough to you. "Just watch Sailor Moon, I think you'll like it more than you think. And let me know if you need another break."

"Thanks, (Y/N).", he mumbled. Just as expected, he sat like a rock despite the painful tattoo placement and the odd quietness. Was it actually that bad?

Amy eventually came in to set up her station, and her client came in 30 minutes later. After another 3 hours, you told Eddie that it was time for another break. "I could finish it if you give me 2 more hours, give or take. You think you can handle that?" Finally, he seemed normal again. "I think so. I'm gonna take a longer break though, I need to eat something." You nodded in agreement and let him take his break while you also ate something and looked over at what Amy was tattooing. "I can put on Care Bears for you, if you'd like.", you suggested once you saw the Love-a-lot bear tattoo. Seeing the eyes of Amy's client light up was a dead giveaway. In a few minutes, you had the first season of Care Bears on the TV and it seemed to help her client a lot with the pain.

Eddie was done with his break after 20 minutes. He looked much more relaxed, which made you feel more relaxed also.

"Do you feel better?", you asked him in a hushed tone. "Yeah, we're just getting to the hard part right now.", he replied while laying back down. It was still odd, because even when he was in a lot of pain he didn't like complete silence. Wait...was he...

"Amy, can you take five and check something?", you asked your colleague. While she was a bit confused, Amy went to the staff room after checking with her client. You could hear some distinct chatter from Eddie and the other client through the door. "Did something happen with the orders?", she asked in a concerned tone.

"I think Eddie's jealous.", you simply stated. With a raised eyebrow and crossed arms, she asked "That's what I had to pause my session for?"

"I'm serious. I mentioned my awful date last week, and he's been off since then. He doesn't even talk or anything, he's a chatterbox!" Another eyeroll from her. "Give him the plus one ticket you have for the afterparty. You're awfully honest when you drink, and from what I heard he likes that too. And if it goes to shit, you'll loose a client. It's shit, but you wouldn't see him again." She was right, you knew that. "Right. Yeah, right." You scratched your head and went to the door again. "I'll do that, thank you." She still gave you a sympathetic smile as you two left the room. "It's gonna be fine. Promise."

He handed you the money he owed you for the tattoo, and you handed him the plus one ticket. "What's that?", he asked with knitted eyebrows. "There's a tattoo convention in a month, and the afterparty is on the second day. It would be lovely if you could come." Finally, he had a smile on his face again. "We also have a booth at the convention, so maybe you could come and say hello."

"I'll make sure to be there.", he said with a smirk while putting the ticket into the front pocket of his leather jacket. "I'll be seeing you before my next appointment then." Eddie left with a small wink. A wink?!

When the day of the afterparty came around, you put a lot of thought into your makeup, hair and outfit. When going shopping, you ended up picking a backless, white dress that was only held up by two spaghetti straps. It was so you could show off the pink and purple wings tattoo perfectly while also showing both your full-sleeves. Considering it was summer, it was also short so your legs tattoos would be shown off.

Of course the main intention was to show as much of the art on your skin as possible. A side intention was just in case Eddie would be there. He hasn't been at your booth the whole weekend. Why should he come now?

You put your hair into a ponytail and finished your makeup before leaving for the location. Since you planned on drinking, you called a cab, kissed your dogs goodbye and left.

It was loud. Really, really loud. Dre Day by Dr. Dre was being played while people on the floor were dancing together, in groups or alone.

"(Y/N)!", you heard someone yell excitedly. In hopes of it being Eddie you turned around, but it wasn't him. Still, it was a friend who lives four states over and always came to the convention. That was nice, too. "Steph!", you yelled back excitedly before the both of you hugged. "Come on, let's drink. What have you been up to?"

And drinking you did. Eventually, both of you and her girlfriend ended up on the dancefloor with Destiny's Child in the background. You sort of gave up on Eddie turning up, until you bumped into him.

"Shit, what are you doing here?", he asked while theatrically swinging his arm around your shoulders. "I'm a tattoo artist, Eddie!", you said with a giggle. The close proximity didn't even matter right now, that's how much you had to drink already. "What are you doing here, huh?" Steph saw you and him, smirked and continued dancing with her girlfriend.

"You invited me!", he yelled over the loud music that just turned up. Dr. Dre was a stable at this party, apparently. "Oh yeah!", you yelled back, followed by a hearty laugh. "Because you're hot and I wanna see you more!" Eddie just laughed and walked towards the bar with you, arm still around your shoulder. "I like the things you're saying.", he said eventually. Both of you hopped up on a barstool and ordered another drink. "I wanted to see you sooner, but I had to work!", he told you in a slurred tone. The only thing you did was giggle, and then both of you got your cocktails. "What's that?", he asked you while watching you take a sip. "Piña Colada. Wanna taste?" Eddie didn't expect you to stick your tongue out instead of handing you the glass, but he just laughed and kissed you instead of even bothering to think. He stood up from his barstool to stand between your legs while you two made out.

To the both of you, unbeknownst to the other, this felt like it was meant to be. Why did you hold back for so long?

His hands travelled from your thigh up to your waist and squeezed the flesh on it. You let out a small moan into the kiss, which made him break it for a short while. "I think I wanna take you home.", he rasped. A grin appeared on your face and your hand ran through his hair. "I think that's a great idea."

And to his home you went. That's where you woke up the next morning, naked in his bed. Eddie was still snorring next to you, also naked, with one arm lazily drapped around your waist. "Fuck.", you mumbled while trying to get up. There was a stinging pain in your head, and while still being naked you ran to the nearest bathroom to throw up. It was obvious where it was, considering Eddie labeled it with an old bar toilet sign.

After you were done throwing up and washed out your mouth, you spotted Eddie in the doorway in nothing but low-hanging, grey sweatpants. "Good morning.", he said in a low tone. His voice was still raspy from waking up. Your response was a grumble while you sat down on the edge of his bathtub. He saw you naked last night, it didn't matter anymore. "Here, put it on." Eddie handed you an oversized Metallica shirt and your underwear from yesterday. "Thanks.", you mumbled before slowly getting dressed. He turned around to give you some privacy, but there was undoubtedly tension between you two. "I'll make you breakfast, and I'm guessing we need to talk then.", he said, then walked off.

You heard the clinking of pans and plates while still trying to grasp what really happened. You had sex with your favourite client, no memory if you two even used protection, while drunk out of your mind. One part of your brain thought Finally, while the other part throught How?.

You removed your makeup as much as you could (although your lipstick was already off from last night), then walked into his kitchen.

Eddie had a studio apartment, so his living room, bedroom and kitchen were all combined in one big room. The only thing that separated his bedroom from everything else were some shelfs with DnD figurines and books in it. "You feel better?", Eddie asked you while you sat down on the high stool he had by his kitchen island. "A bit. Head still hurts." He slid you an aspirin with a glass of water. You gratefully took it and gulped it all down with lightning speed.

"So, about last night.", Eddie started while putting scrambled eggs and bacon with some toast on your plate. It smelled so good, you wished you had that every day. "Do you know if we used protection?" was the first question that left your mouth. The risk of having a baby with someone you weren't in a relationship with was terrifying.

"Honestly, I don't know. I didn't see any...packaging.", Eddie replied as he sat down next to you with his own plate in hand. Your head fell into your hands with a loud groan. "Fuck...", you mumbled after a while. "It's no offence to you, but I really don't want to have a child with someone I'm not dating."

"I mean, we could."

Your head shot up at his words. To him, you looked like a deer in headlights. "You're serious?" The stammer in your voice was clear, but Eddie didn't know how to interpret it. But now that you two have gone this far already, nothing he would say now could make it worse. "I've liked you for a while now. I really, really like you. And I wouldn't be opposed to being your boyfriend."

Those words were music to your ears. What a great day, despite the hangover. "As much as this goes against any client-artist ethics I have, I like you in that way as well.", you said with a big grin. It lit up the room, so much that your eyebags and residue makeup weren't remotely visible anymore. "How about you take me to get a plan B, get my dogs and find somewhere to eat for lunch?"

Eddie started grinning at your suggestion. "Getting plan b and meeting the dogs sounds like boyfriend-girlfriend activities.", he said. You got down from the high stool, stood between his legs and wrapped your arms around his neck. "You know me more than most of my friends. I think we can skip the awkward 'what are we' phase."

Both of you leaned into a kiss, a sober one this time.

"Eddie?", you yelled from your bathroom. Hot Dog and Marly came running in with your boyfriend, hearing the nervous undertone. "Everything okay?", he asked before turning the corner and seeing a pregnancy test in your hands.

"I...don't think the plan B, uhm...worked.", you stammered.

[moodymelanist]

too good to deny it

happy @sjmromanceweek 2025 everyone! I'm so excited for this event to be back and we're kicking things off with some Nemerie 🫶🏽

Summary: Nesta has never kissed anyone before, and when she gets asked on her first date, Emerie takes matters into her own hands.

Word Count:

Read on AO3 here!

♡♡♡♡♡ Emerie

Emerie was suffering through her statistics reading when her roommate barged through the door in what looked like a state of panic. “Emerie. Em.”

“Yeah?” Emerie asked, looking up from her textbook at the sound of Nesta’s voice. She hadn’t known Nesta very long — they’d only been living together since the start of the semester, and this weekend was her last chance to get some decent studying in before midterms started in earnest — but judging by the look on her roommate’s face, this was something serious. “What happened?”

Nesta shrugged out of her backpack and sat down hard on the edge of her  bed. “I think I have a date this weekend?”

“What?” Emerie asked, fully sitting up at her desk now. “What do you mean you think?”

“Well…” Nesta trailed off with a sigh. She kicked off her white sneakers before shifting back onto her bed in an attempt to make herself more comfortable, and Emerie turned around fully in her desk chair, statistics studying be damned. This was way more important. “You know that guy who’s been driving me crazy?”

“Which one?” Emerie questioned. She’d heard Nesta complaining about a guy in her bio lecture, but there was also the guy in her political science lecture that drove her nuts, too. “Bio lecture or poli sci?”

“Bio lecture,” Nesta confirmed. Emerie wracked her brain for the guy’s name — it was something that reminded her of Narnia. Caspian? Casper? Something like that. “Apparently he was flirting with me the entire time.”

“What an effective method,” Emerie replied dryly, pulling a soft laugh out of Nesta. It made something go a little warm and fuzzy in her chest, but she pushed it aside the same way she’d been doing these last few weeks. “So he’s been pulling your pigtails all semester and now he wants to get serious?”

“I guess so?” Nesta answered hesitantly. She seemed uncertain, which was rare for her; in the short time Emerie had known Nesta, she didn’t tend to show anything other than a very healthy dose of self-confidence. “I mean, I don’t know. He asked me to go to dinner with him on Saturday and I said yes and now I’m kind of… panicking.”

“You? Panicking?” Emerie responded, raising both of her eyebrows. Nesta didn’t do panic, which was generally pretty helpful, but now that she was actually showing something like human weakness, Emerie didn’t totally know what to do with it. “Why? He’s just some guy.”

“Okay, but I don’t do just some guy,” Nesta said. She curled into herself a little bit and Emerie frowned, not sure what to do with that, either. “I haven’t done… any guys, actually.”

Emerie just blinked; she actually had no idea what Nesta was going with this. “What do you mean? Guys must ask you out all the time.”

“Not really,” Nesta told her, a faint blush appearing on her cheeks.

Okay, now Emerie was really intrigued. She closed her textbook and got up to come sit on the bed next to Nesta, their thighs nearly pressed together because of how little room existed on their twin XL mattresses. “Nesta. What are you talking about?”

“You’ve met my mom,” Nesta said, and boy, had Emerie ever. She’d thought her family was bad, but watching the way Mrs. Archeron bossed every member of Nesta’s family around had managed to put even her uncle to shame. Emerie had been a little worried that Nesta would be just as bitchy as her mom, but thankfully that hadn’t been the case, and they’d turned into fast friends instead. “Everyone back home already knows how insane she is. Even if I’d been allowed to date, nobody wanted to deal with her.”

“Oh my God,” Emerie said back. She privately thought it was dumb to pass up on the chance to call Nesta Archeron your girlfriend just because her mom sucked, but maybe she had more brain cells than the guys in Nesta’s hometown. “So you’ve never—?”

“Whatever you’re thinking, no.” Nesta looked away, her cheeks going even pinker. “I’ve never even touched a guy other than dance classes, and that definitely doesn’t count.”

Emerie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. How could someone as gorgeous as Nesta be freaking out about something as simple as this? Emerie didn’t have that much experience with guys — she’d figured out what that strange swooping feeling in her stomach when Jade from Victorious came on her television screen meant early, thank you very much — but from the little she did know, it wasn’t really that hard dealing with them. She imagined it would be even easier when you looked like Nesta, with her icy eyes, bronze hair, and general air like she knew exactly what she was doing and you’d be dumb not to go along with it. 

“It’s not that hard, really,” Emerie replied after a second, still reeling. Her first date with a guy on the lacrosse team had been pretty mediocre, but she hadn’t realized the reason she’d been so bored was because she’d wanted to catch the captain of the girls volleyball team’s attention instead. “You just have to laugh at their jokes and put your hand on their arm a little.”

At Nesta’s dubious look, Emerie added, “I’ve seen your Story Graph, Nesta. I know you know how to at least do that.”

“Okay, okay,” Nesta responded with a sheepish smile. “But what if he wants to kiss me?”

“It’s not as hard as it seems,” Emerie answered. “I mean, you’ve seen movies.”

“Of course I’ve seen movies, Em.” Nesta rolled her eyes and Emerie laughed. “But it’s not like I’ve actually done it myself.”

Emerie scrambled to find a response that seemed normal enough. “You can just practice on the back of your hand. Or maybe your arm?”

“Wouldn’t he be able to tell?” Nesta asked, biting her lip. Emerie tried her hardest not to notice how pink they were. “I don’t want to look like I don’t know what I’m doing. Or worse, kiss like a golden retriever. My sister says her boyfriend does that and she hates it.”

“Okay,” Emerie said slowly. She wasn’t completely sure how to respond to that, but she’d do her best. “We don’t have time to unpack the golden retriever thing, but I promise you won’t kiss like that.”

“Okay, but how do you know?” Nesta said back. “You can’t promise that.”

“Just kiss me and I’ll tell you,” Emerie blurted out before she could stop herself. She had to physically shove her hands under her thighs to stop herself from clapping her hand over her own mouth and make the situation even more embarrassing; she’d already done the worst, so now she just had to shut up until Nesta laughed it off.

Nesta didn’t laugh it off, though. She just narrowed her eyes like she was actually considering it, and Emerie nearly bit off her own tongue when Nesta said, “Are you sure?”

“I mean, only if you want,” Emerie replied, hoping it didn’t come off as desperate as she thought it did. Her heart was pounding so loud in her chest it was a miracle Nesta couldn’t hear it with how close they were sitting. “We don’t have to.”

“I want to,” Nesta responded. She looked at Emerie expectantly and added, “Well?”

Emerie quickly shifted so she was facing Nesta properly, leaning on their cinder block wall for some more support while Nesta did the same. This close to her, Emerie could see Nesta had the faintest dusting of freckles across her skin that looked like they trailed down under her shirt, and Emerie hoped Nesta didn’t hear how thickly she swallowed.

“Okay, so…” Emerie trailed off before summoning her courage. She wasn’t going to squander this opportunity, and if Nesta decided to use this knowledge to her date’s advantage, at least Emerie would have the memory. “Pick a side to tilt your head so you don’t bump your nose.”

“Like this?” Nesta asked, tilting her head to the right so far it was a miracle she didn’t strain her neck.

“No, no,” Emerie answered with a little laugh. She reached out to touch Nesta’s face without thinking about it, her cheeks going warm as she tilted Nesta to a better angle. “Like this.”

“Okay,” Nesta breathed. Her eyes looked incredibly blue this close up. “Now what?”

“Just lean in,” Emerie told her. She thanked whatever god was listening that she’d happened to brush her teeth when she’d come back from her discussion section earlier this afternoon. “And close your eyes.”

Nesta didn’t so much as lean in as she aggressively pushed her mouth in Emerie’s direction, but Emerie certainly wasn’t complaining. Nesta’s lips were soft and full against hers, and she could faintly taste the spearmint lip balm that Nesta liked to use. Emerie was fully expecting this to just be a peck, but to her surprise, Nesta’s lips parted and suddenly her tongue was licking at Emerie’s lips.

Emerie gasped a little, surprised, and that was all it took for Nesta’s tongue to slip inside her mouth. She tried to show Nesta how good it felt to slide their tongues together, how to move their lips to form a semblance of a good rhythm, but who was Emerie kidding. Nesta was clearly a natural, and Emerie was one hundred percent benefitting from that right now.

“Um,” Emerie said once she realized just how long they’d been kissing and pulled away. She didn’t know what to say but she didn’t totally know what to do with the strange silence between them. “So. Um. That’s how you kiss.”

Nesta studied her for a few moments before her look turned knowing. Emerie wasn’t sure whether she should be afraid of that look or not, but wow, was it doing things for her. “Right.”

“Right,” Emerie repeated, still at a loss for words. Her lips were still tingling from where Nesta’s had been pressed against them a minute ago, and she had to fight the urge to bring her hand up to touch them. “So. Yeah.”

“I’m canceling my date,” Nesta announced suddenly. Her lips were an even darker shade of pink now from all the kissing, and it was really distracting. “We’re doing more of that.”

Emerie had to mentally rewind the last few seconds to make sure she hadn’t misheard. “What?”

“I said we’re doing more of that,” Nesta repeated firmly. She leaned forward so their lips were just barely touching, and even that was enough to make Emerie a little crazy. “Unless you don’t want to?”

“No,” Emerie said quickly, and then immediately realized how Nesta might interpret that. “I mean, yes. I want to.” 

“Good,” Nesta said back, leaning in to press her lips firmly to Emerie’s.

This time when they kissed, they were both smiling too hard for it to really count, but Emerie didn’t mind.

tag list: @c-e-d-dreamer | @jsmelodies | @queercontrarian | @nativeswfl | @that-little-red-head | @dustjacketmusings | @fieldofdaisiies | @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk | @kale-theteaqueen | @goddess-aelin | @livinforthetea | @valkyrie-archeron | @agents-assemble | @sweet-pea1 | @lilah-asteria | @brieq | @mydnights | @jmoonjones | @readskk | @fwiggle | @bookstantrash | @climbthemountain2020 | @underneath-the-sidras | @illyrianshadowhunter | @sublimecoffeefestival | @superspiritfestival | @sv0430 | @podemechamardek | @unlikelypersonalknight1 | @burningsnowleopard | @bri-loves-sunflowers | @itsinherited

[thequeendesi]

A Werewolf

Title: A Werewolf

Alt Title: Imprinting

Pairing: Paul Lahote x Reader

Warnings: uhhh, none other than a mild panic attack. Reader won’t call Renesmee by her name.

Rating: PG

Summary: after growing up in Forks with your dad, your sister coming to live with you two, and the entirety of the Cullen drama, a wedding, and a life or death situation, your twin comes back home but different. And after seeing her, you become painfully aware of what really happened to her and leave only to realize you fit into her new world more than expected.

Word Count: 3k

A/N: woooooooow. So it’s been a while since I actually wrote smth and posted it! Consider this my lil welcome back. I’ve actually been so busy. I got married, I’ve started trying for a family, been babysitting kids, and death and just a whole lot of crazy. But I knew I just needed to actually write smth and finish it, and today I finally did. So please enjoy, requests are open and as always; I love yall 🩷

———

“Where are you going Dad?” You asked, looking up from your phone. You leaned against the armrest on the couch, your legs spread across the cushions. “To see Bella. She’s back in town.” He said, almost sounding confused in his statement. “Bella’s home? She didn’t call me.” You narrowed your eyebrows, turning off your phone. “I want to go.” You stood up, slipping your feet into your house shoes.

“Dressed like that?” Your dad asked, crossing his arms as he looked at you in your pajamas. “I’m not trying to impress the Cullen’s. I’m trying to interrogate them.” You crossed your arms, taking a second glance at yourself in the reflection of the tv. Unbothered by your sweatpants, tank top and robe. “How did she go from the brink of death, to moving far away to; she’s fine and can stay?” You narrowed your eyebrows. “It makes no sense. Dad, you're a cop! You’re not questioning anything?”

“I don’t know, I’m not questioning it. I’ve gotten… enough answers these last few days.” Your father ran a hand down his face. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing just…” He sighed. “Nothing. If that’s what you’re wearin’, let’s go.” He opened the door, grabbing the keys off the key rack.

You nodded, and headed outside, hearing him close and lock the door behind you. “And Jake...” He added, getting into the driver seat. “Jake? How is he tied into this?” You narrowed your eyebrows, getting into the passenger seat and buckling up.

“Another thing we don’t need to get into.”

“Something we do. Why’re you keeping secrets from me? That was Bella and mom’s thing.” You crossed your arms. “I’m not keeping secrets. I don’t know things.” He pulled out of the driveway and began driving towards Jake's. “Everything that’s going on? I don’t know. Other than Jake is a dog. And not a figurative dog. I mean the kid I’ve seen his entire life turn into a dog.” He said, almost bewildered to be saying it outloud.

“A… dog.” You nodded. “Bella had to have known. What else is going on in this town?” Your dad muttered to himself, parking in Jake’s yard.

You watched as the door swung open and out piled a handful of men. Some you remembered from when Jake brought you over, but after sometime last year you hadn’t gotten an invitation back. You couldn’t help but think it was tied to Bella.

You felt your heart pound as your eyes landed on one of the men, who was staring you down. All noises fell to soft murmurs for a second.

Your eyes continued glued to him as you snapped back into reality by feeling your dads truck move back down the road. Only until his frame was out of view did you turn around to look at Jake. “Start talking. When did you become a dog?” You asked, reminded of your previous mission: to interrogate.

Jake’s eyes shot to your dad. “Look at me.” You stated, grabbing his face to tug it your way. What used to be easy, your hand slipped off his face as his face didn’t move at all. “Do you remember when Cullen left Bella and you came to a bonfire?” He asked you.

“Yeah. Edweird left, you took me to a bonfire because she kept screaming all night and I needed a break and i heard about the legends about wolves and…” You paused. “No way…” you looked down momentarily, before looking back up at him. “The cold ones?” You asked, recalling another conversation you two had. “The Cullen’s.” He answered.

Your dads eyes shifted from the rear view mirror to you as he silently drove. “I just can’t believe it.” You turned back around in your seat, trying to ignore the painful pull in your chest.

“So… why are you coming with us to go see Bella? What aren’t you telling us? She’s not pregnant, is she?” You laughed a little bit, before turning in your seat to look at him again. “Is she?” You repeated.

“No. There’s a daughter. And um… I am her guardian protector.” He cleared his throat. “A daughter? They’ve been married for a month. That’s…” you scoffed, looking out of the window. ”apart of the weird shit you have going on.” You shook your head.

Charlie sighed as he parked the vehicle. “We’re here.” He half chuckled, looking at you. Your eyes met his, noticing his deeper bags under his eyes and stress lines in his middle forehead.

You opened your door and got out. The air felt still, almost scary. You crossed your arms, your hands holding sides of your robe as you walked up the steps to the front door.

“Creepy ass house…” you raised your hand to knock on the door, but stopped as Jacob walked straight in, Charlie following behind him. You sighed and dropped your hand, following behind them.

“Where’s Bella?” Your dad asked Carlisle. You crossed your arms as the man looked at you and your father, before gesturing down the hallway to where she was. “I wasn’t expecting you as well, (Name).” He smiled gently at you. “It’s my twin.” You responded plainly.

You followed your father and Jake.

“Hey.” Bella said. Your face finally softened as you saw her. “Bella. Are you ok?” You quickly cut your father off, moving close to examine her. Your eyebrows quickly knit themselves as you gathered… an overall off vibe from her.

“Never better. Healthy as a horse.” She laughed a little. “You… don’t turn into an animal too, do you?”

Bella smiled, her eyes shifting to Jake quickly before shaking her head.

Edward patted Jake’s shoulder gently, leaving the room. “Let’s give these three some privacy.” Jacob nodded, following behind Edward.

“Bella, I just don’t understand.” You pushed your hair from your face, beginning to pace. “You’re…” you looked at your dad, then at her. “You. But you’re not.” You gestured at her.

“I’m okay, (Name).” She said, trying to ease you. Scoffing, you readjusted your robe. “Did you just wake up?” She asked, trying to joke. “No. I just graduated high school, I’m enjoying early adulthood unemployment.”

”I need to know what happened to you.” Your dad stated, finally speaking up. “No.” Bella shook her head. “We need an explanation.”

“If you need one, I can’t stay.” Bella looked away from your dads eye contact. “No. No more going away!” Your dad spoke up.

“Just trust me. I’m alright. I’m more than alright. Can you live with that?”

Your dad scoffed. “I just watched a kid I knew his whole life turn into a very large dog.” He gestured to your twin, “my daughter looks like my daughter… but doesn’t.”

“Just trust me… I’ll tell you what you need to know.” Her gaze fell to you, knowing you knew. “And I don’t need to know this?”

“No… really, you don’t.” She shook her head. “Well… I’m not going to lose you again. I can’t.”

“You won’t. I promise.” Bella persisted.

You felt tears well in your eyes as you looked at the door way, avoiding Bella’s hug with your dad. “I missed you bells… so much.” You heard as your dad fought the tears.

A soft coo and footsteps entered the room as you exited. Your heartbeat racing as you trail down the hallway.

Opening the front door, you finally let go of the pained gasp of air you held in the back of your throat. You walked forward until you could lean against the handrail you stared into the forest. Millions of thoughts racing through your mind, but a few yelled loudly on top of the others.

Your sister is a vampire, married a vampire, probably had some weird half vampire kid, and your sisters in laws are a group of vampires.

“(Name).” Edward called to you. Closing the door behind him. “You’re not going to turn me too, are you?” You asked sarcastically.

“Uh, no.” He said softly, stepping forward to stand next to you. Taking a deep breath, he opened his mouth to say anything. You held your hand up. “I’m not going to say anything.” You shook your head, putting your hand back down. “But it explains everything.” You sighed.

“Her name is Renesmee.” Edward stated. “Who?” You narrowed your eyebrows. “Your niece.” He answered. “So you two did have sex before marriage.” You laughed slightly.

“No.” He shook his head. “We didn’t expect it… her.” Edward corrected himself. “She came as a surprise. She’s a week old and looks six months.” He shook his head.

“I don’t mean to sound rude,” you started, pushing yourself off of the handrail. ���But learning about… what I learned today, was enough. I’m sorry, but I’ll meet Ragnorak another time.” You stated, moving past him to step off of the porch. “Where are you going?” Edward asked, watching your movements. “I don’t know.” You shrugged, throwing your hands up as you began to walk into the woods.

The dusk fell quickly as the sounds of nature filled your ears. Before Bella moved back to live with your dad and you, woods used to be your solace. You used to tell anyone who’d listen, you knew the woods of Forks, better than any of the people.

“Are you lost?” You heard a low pitched voice call out into the woods. You turned your head where the voice was coming. A tall man stood under a tree, deep red eyes staring into your soul, his hand resting against it as he leaned into it. “Pretty girls shouldn’t walk in the forest alone.” He stared, his voice suddenly in your ear.

“Get away from me.” You stepped back from him.

“I wouldn’t try running.” He stated firmly, his hands finding your wrists. “You can try. But it wouldn’t work.” He said, almost giggling a little.

“Let me go!” You shouted, attempting to pull out of his cold grip.

“Shhh… it’ll be over soon. You’re not the Swan I was intending but you’ll do.” He shrugged, letting go of your wrists. “But tell you what. I’ll give you a ten second head start… one…”

Turning around, you quickly ran down the cleared path, looking around for help.

“Nine… ten!” The vampire shouted behind you. Like thunder roaring, you heard running from multiple directions. You turned around to see the vampire still.

You gripped your robe as you noticed four insanely large wolves began circling the vampire. Loud slaps against the earth behind you roared as a dark grey wolf jumped over your head in front of the vampire.

Falling back, you winced as you back hit the root of the tree. A loud howl came from the largest wolf, whose fur was so dark you were surprised you could even see him in the dark.

You could feel the terror the vampire was feeling as the wolves circled him. Snarling, growling, barking to each other.

You pulled yourself up, turning your back as you heard the vampire scream in agony, before silence.

You noticed as your breath wouldn’t catch, your heart beat working overtime, your incessant shaking. You coughed as you tried to catch a breath, throwing your robe to the ground as you felt it suffocating you.

You cried out as you sat back onto the ground, your body shaking. “Oh my god…” you muttered, repeating it over and over. Your hands covering your face as you rocked yourself.

A soft whine came near you as the large grey wolf lowered himself to lay on the ground next to you. Your erratic breathing slowed as you peeked through your fingers to watch him move his paw from underneath him to help him lay to his side. Your eyes moved to the wolf’s, who made a small motion with his head for you to lean into him.

You closed your eyes and leaned over, your face meeting the soft fur, before fully laying into the wolf. You felt yourself relax as your breathing and heart rate began to calm as well as you listened to the wolf’s. Which sounded surprisingly calm despite what just happened.

You removed your hands from your face and rested them in your lap as you tried to regulate yourself.

After a couple of minutes, you sat up, looking at the wolf who was already staring you down intently.

“This is a part of Jake’s thing… isn’t it?” You asked the wolf, almost expecting it to answer. You held back a gasp as it nodded.

“(Name).” You turned around, meeting Sam’s gaze not realizing he was behind you . “You know?” He asked, but it was more of a statement. You nodded. He nodded back. “Paul.” He looked at the wolf.

A silent conversation was said between the two, and Paul stood up. “I’m having him take you to the rez. There’s things you need to know.” Sam said, his tone thick with dominance, reaching his hand out to you.

You nodded, taking it as he helped you to your feet. You looked at Paul as he kneeled beside you. You silently mounted him, leaning forward to steady yourself, grabbing fistfuls of his fur to keep hold.

He looked towards the other wolves who moved back into the shadows before running towards the reservation.

You listened to the fire crackle as you braid your damp hair. Emily, Sam’s wife, offered you a shower after coming in, which you greatly accepted.

“I’m glad the clothes fit.” She said, sitting next to you on the bench.

You nodded. “Thank you again.” You said, securing your braid with a hair tie and tossing it over your shoulder. “You’re welcome.” She smiled, looking at the fire.

“I’m guessing you know about the wolf thing?” You asked. “I’m very familiar with it.” She laughed softly. “And the vampire thing?”

“Well… when you believe in werewolves, vampires aren’t a stretch.” She shrugged a little. “You found out about the Cullen's?” She asked, looking at you.

You nodded a little. “I did. I have a niece too, who I completely blew off meeting today because finding out a childhood best friend turns into the world’s largest dog, your sister and her in-laws are all vampires was just a bit much.” You sighed.

“Your wrists are bruised.” Emily said softly, gingerly touching the finger bruises on your wrists.

“Thankfully the leech who did that is dead.” Sam’s voice cut into the conversation.

He sat across from the two of you, a slightly shorter, but still very tall man sat next to you. “I can’t stress how important it is that you keep all of this a secret. Not even Charlie can know.” Sam said.

“Who’s going to believe me even if I said anything?” You asked. “I wasn’t planning on saying anything to begin with. I’m honestly regretting taking this gap year, because I wouldn’t know any of this if I was in college. I think I’m actually going to move to my mother’s, actually, because apparently Forks is something a horror movie should’ve been shot at instead of people living here.”

Sam shook his head. “Paul imprinted on you.” Sam said. “Imprinted?” You asked, narrowing your eyebrows

“What’s imprinting?” You asked, looking at Paul. Sam and Emily stood and left, giving you space to get answers from Paul.

“It means you’re my mate. It’s like my center of gravity has been shifted to you. It’s no longer about my life. It’s about being yours. Your protector, your friend, your family. I’m permanently bound to you. A soulmate. I’m yours, until the end of time.” Paul finally spoke. “It’s like feeling in a bubble your entire life seeing everything warped until it’s right in front of you, then it pops. And everything’s clear and it’s the clearest it’s ever been. And you have room to run, jump, and touch. And you want to dedicate everything to this thing that popped your bubble.” He explained, his eyes never leaving yours. His words embed themself in you, igniting a small flame in your heart.

You nodded, silently acknowledging his words. “My sister and I have always been complete opposites… it’d make sense her real love is a vampire and mine is supposed to be a werewolf.” You leaned your head against Paul’s shoulder.

He moved his arm behind your head and rested on your shoulder as you leaned into him further. “And you fight vampires all the time?” You asked, attempting to get details from him.

“Not all the time. Time to time.” He answered.

“What makes the Cullen’s different?”

“Nothing in my eyes. But, our pack has a treaty with them. As long as they don’t pose a threat to the humans, they’re safe to live another day.”

“And what happened to Bella wasn’t a threat?”

“No. She wanted her lifestyle. We had to accept it. Then we had to accept their baby because Jacob imprinted on her.”

“Jacob imprinted on Renaissance?”

“I thought her name was Renesmee… anyways. Yes, but it’s not what you think. He’ll be her protector until she decides she’s ready to be his mate.” He answered. “Weird.”

“Do you go into the woods all the time?”

“Not as often.” You shook your head, enjoying the warmth. “I couldn’t stay out of them as a kid.”

“What’s your last name?”

“Lahote.”

“Nice to know that my eventual last name will be.” You half joked. “We just met and you’re already thinking of marriage?” He laughed a little. “If we’re going to be together until the end of time, I don’t think it’s crazy to think about marriage. Apparently women in my family thrive off of getting married before the frontal lobe is fully formed.”

“We don’t have to until you want to.” He said. “As long as we’re boyfriend and girlfriend from now until then.”

“What happened to a first date?”

“My kind typically skip into straight exclusivity.” Paul shrugged. “Normally after we have the ‘I imprinted on you’ talk, the ‘when are you moving in’ talk comes pretty quick.” You heard a small chuckle at the end of his sentence.

“Oh really? Well, I guess moving to my mom’s isn’t happening anytime soon?” You teased, looking up at him. “Hopefully not.” He smiled a little.

“I guess the hardest part going forward is explain to my dad I’m dating a dog.”

“Wolf. Dogs are wolves' sad and lame cousins.”

[for-a-longlongtime]

Good lord what is the young Joel and Marcus wip 😏

ANON come here and let me kiss you on the forehead!! This one is special to me 😍

First of all... young!Joel Miller x young!MarcusMoreno is not a pairing that comes completely out of nowhere. As a matter of fact, they're lurking in my masterlist, tucked into a story, but I don't want to spoiler it for other people who may not have read some of the fics I wrote last year.

However, if you know - you know. 😏

Let's get into it:

This is probably one of the heftiest WIPs that I haven't posted anything from yet, as the doc clocks in at about 5K so far - and it's actually going to be a series! I'd say a tentative 9 to 10 (not super long, hopefully LOL) chapters at this point. And I'm actually going to try to have most of this written, or at the very least have half of it done before I post the first chapter, just to make things a little more manageable for myself.

We meet Joel and Marcus in Austin, TX when they're about 20 and 21 years old, and the series will span a period of approximately twenty five years actually, so I'm very excited about that! They meet in a bar - that Joel isn't supposed to be at, because he's not of legal drinking age - when they're trying to break up a fight among their friends, which results into the two of them getting kicked out.

Joel has been working long, long days in construction for a few years in order to support himself and Tommy, as their parents died when Joel was 16/17 years old. One of the reasons why he rolled into that line of work - besides the money - is because the childhood house that they still live in needs so much work done, and the only way he could think about being able to afford that somehow is by learning how to do all the work himself because he'd never be able to afford a contractor.

His life couldn't be any more different than Marcus', who is busy with college and who tries to hide a part of his life for most people - namely that his father is the leader of the Heroics and his mother is a Heroics trainer. There is the expectation that he's going to follow in their footsteps, but his powers haven't shown up yet, so he's trying to focus on blazing his own path.

They end up becoming friends, and music plays an important role in that; the series takes place in the (early/mid) nineties, so get ready for a good amount of grunge / rock / etc. There are a lot of twists and turns in their story (apparantly Little Beast was only the beginning of a whole lot of angst/drama pouring into my fics), so I don't want to reveal too much it, but let's just say that it's a tough ass road and things don't go the way they've planned.

But! I do have enough written so far that I can show you a little snippet of a very rough outline from chapter 2:

Joel and Marcus listening to grunge music and smoking so much pot at Joel's place. Careful first kisses. Giggling about it as they’re so stoned and kind of nervous. (They only smoke pot when Tommy isn’t around/going to be home that night, also to help manage Joels aches as he tends to be sore after a long day at the construction site - that's half of the reason why Marcus brings over weed). They’re both too high to do anything that requires much coordination but Marcus starts grinding against Joel’s dick and they eventually get eachother off that way, clothes still on, sitting on the couch. There are more kisses while they're both still panting, now with a giggle in between breaths every now and then, and the weed just makes them lose track of time - and it's not all that long before Joel finds himself grinding his hips up against Marcus again. "Fuck. Fuck, I…." He can't find the words, especially not when Marcus rocks back against him, just a little slower on his refractory period. "I want…. Fuck. 'm too high. I can't…" Marcus hushing him with another kiss and Joel moans, grabbing Marcus' hips and shifting on the couch, until Marcus is on his back and Joel on top of him. Nudging his hips into Marcus until they line up, still fully dressed, and the little “oh my god” once he gets it right. "Take it, take it, take it," Marcus panting under him, holding onto Joel's broad shoulders, which makes Joel moan against him, and when Marcus' hands grab Joel's ass, something just clicks inside of Joel's brain. And despite that everything is still slow and soft, he just goes feral because he wants it - wants Marcus - so goddamn bad "Wish I was inside you," against Marcus' ear, and Marcus cries out at that, imagining it, and because it feels so good that Joel is fucking his cock against him. "I wish I…" And not all of it is coherent, it's a string of words that fall from his lips, but he kind of talks Marcus through it, what he wants to do to him, and Marcus just loses his shit because holy fuck, Joel's voice is so deep when he's been smoking like this, and nobody has ever talked to him like this while getting off, and he loves it.

Thanks again for asking, Anon!! I honestly can't wait to write more on them and to eventually share these boys with all of you.

Want to know more about fics in my WIP folder? Check out the original post!

pssst, this is me looking innocent and tagging y'all for no reason whatsoever except for that you might be interested to see this WIP that's in the making 😇😘 thank you all so much for the support you gave to GP! @oliveksmoked @ohforficsake @wannab-urs @baronessvonglitter @angiewatson

@iknowisoundcrazyreads @gruaig-rua @thebeldroramscal @milla-frenchy @reallyrallyauthor

@jessthebaker @littleredpandanaps @bitchesuntitled @avastrasposts @almostempty

@almostfoxglove @rebel-held @magpiepills @legendary-pink-dot @mysterious-moonstruck-musings

@din-cognito @penvisions @alltheglitterandtheroar

[estrellex]

racing hearts - dr3

summary: swapping numbers at the gathering, you and daniel started chatting, and what began as playful banter quickly blossomed into meaningful conversations about photography, travel, and life in general. yet you couldn’t shake off the warm and fuzzy feeling that bubbled up inside you whenever daniel's name flashed on your phone—maybe they were onto something after all!

looking for part 1 ? 🌱

after the gathering..

daniel pulled his phone from his pocket, glancing at it before holding it out to you. "here, put your number in. you know, just in case i ever need a professional photographer." his grin was playful, but there was something else there—something softer.

you hesitated for only a second before taking the phone, fingers typing in your contact details. "just in case?" you asked, raising an eyebrow as you handed it back to him.

he smirked. "or, you know, in case i want to talk to someone who won’t roast me as badly as lando does."

you laughed, shaking your head. "i make no promises."

daniel chuckled, slipping his phone back into his pocket. "fair enough. but i’ll take my chances."

the night continued, but the lingering thought of your conversation with daniel sat in the back of your mind. even as you made your way through the party, chatting with rebecca and teasing carlos about his questionable music choices, your thoughts kept drifting back to the easy rhythm of your conversation with him.

yourinstagram posted a story

later, when you were home, curled up in bed and scrolling through your phone, a message popped up from an unknown number.

unknown: hope you made it home safe. no sudden urges to capture the perfect shot while driving?

you smiled, shaking your head as you saved the contact.

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the amused smile forming on your lips.

sunday morning..

the next day, you met up with your best friend, maya, for coffee. she leaned forward expectantly. "so? how was the party? anyone interesting?"

you shrugged, stirring your latte absentmindedly. "it was fine. same faces, mostly. carlos was being dramatic as usual. lando is still a menace."

maya squinted at you. "and?"

you took a sip of your drink, trying to seem casual. "and i talked to daniel ricciardo for a bit."

her eyes widened. "oh my god. and you just casually drop that in? i mean i did see you post him last night. what was he like? tell me everything."

"relax, and yeah… i asked him of course if i could you know, crazy fans out there" you laughed. "he was just… easy to talk to. funny, obviously. but also just— i don’t know. it didn’t feel like small talk. it felt like—"

"flirting?" maya supplied.

you rolled your eyes. "i was going to say, a real conversation. but sure, let’s go with your theory."

maya smirked. "and? are you texting?"

you hesitated for half a second before nodding. "yeah, we’ve exchanged a few messages from last night. nothing major."

maya leaned in, intrigued. "nothing major? you’re smiling while saying that. what’s he like over text?"

you glanced down at your phone, the last message still lingering on the screen. "he’s… witty. kind of effortlessly funny. and he actually asks questions instead of just talking about himself."

maya wiggled her eyebrows. "sounds promising. and what do we think?"

you sighed, leaning back. "i don’t know. it’s fun. i don’t want to overthink it."

maya gave you a knowing look. "famous last words."

just then, your phone vibrated again.

maya leaned over, reading the messages over your shoulder. "oh yeah. he’s so into you."

“maya. don’t make me feel delusion after a small interaction with him,” you say playfully.

she puts her hands up in defense, “what? these messages totally show that he’s into you.”

you shook your head, but the warmth in your chest lingered. Maybe, just maybe, maya had been onto something after all. and maybe carlos was up to his matchmaking skills once again.

yourinstagram posted a story

a few days later..

over the next few days, you and daniel exchanged texts that started light and teasing but quickly grew into something more. conversations about photography turned into discussions about travel, music, and childhood memories. he sent you ridiculous selfies with captions like "artistic masterpiece?" and you retaliated with photos of your morning coffee labeled "true art."

one evening, as you were editing photos, another message popped up.

carlos, ever observant, caught on quickly. during a facetime call, he smirked at you. "you’ve been smiling at your phone a lot lately. something you want to share?"

you rolled your eyes. "it’s called having friends, carlos."

"mhm. friends. sure," he drawled, clearly unconvinced. "you forget i know you, hermana. you don’t text just anyone this much."

you scoffed. "it’s just daniel. we’re just talking."

carlos raised an eyebrow. "just talking? when was the last time you ‘just talked’ to someone this much and actually smiled about it?"

you hesitated. he had a point, and he knew it. carlos grinned, triumphant. "i’m just saying, i wouldn’t be mad if you two hit it off. i mean, imagine how fun double dates with me and rebecca would be."

you groaned. "we are not doing this."

carlos chuckled. "alright, alright. i’ll let you figure it out. just… don’t overthink it for once, yeah?"

em speaks: sooo sorry that i've been mia on this story and just in general :(( school has been on my butt, and it doesn't help that im on quarter system. i've been starting on the next part of this and hope to get it out as soon as i can 🙏 but hoped you enjoyed this second part!!

[thegrinningghost]

Th𝓮 Hig𝓱 Guar𝓭

Do you ever think about the High Guard, and wonder how many of them had conjunxes or sparklings? How many had friends, family; how many loved someone but were too scared to confess. How many never wanted anything with romance, but had close mentor-like bonds with those younger and older than them. Do you ever think about those bots, and wonder if they ever joined the High Guard, too? Or perhaps they stayed and worked for their cause in another way. Maybe whole trines would join, by force or choosing. Do you ever think about how often those bots would pray and wish for the High Guard to return safely after every battle? How they realized it was a noble cause, but hated the danger it put those they knew into. Do you ever think about how, one battle, the High Guard didn’t return? And the Primes were dead. And everybody knew that, but nobody knew how, and nobody knew where the High Guard went. Nobody knew if they died. Nobody asked, but they wondered. And slowly, those courageous bots became mere myth. Do you ever think about how often their story got told? How it may have been passed down through generation, or told on the off-chance someone brought up the Primes. Do you ever think about the High Guard, who, despite their cruel behavior and stern words, maybe really just wanted to go home? How they were stuck in hiding for years, longing to see or just be able to say goodbye to all they used to know. Do you ever think about how the first time the High Guard got to go home was cut short? Do you ever wonder how those they loved felt, seeing them fight only to hail some false, violent leader, and fly off with no words to be spared? Do you ever wonder if the High Guard regretted that day, or even the day they decided to join the military ranks beneath the Primes? Do you ever think about how the first and last time they got to be with the people they loved, was fighting against a system? Do you ever wonder if, during that battle, they ever truly saw those bots, or if they remained clueless to what happened after they disappeared? Do you ever think about what Orion said to D-16? How he should take the High Guard and leave. Do you ever wonder if some of the High Guard didn’t want to follow anyone anymore, but were forced to because of their exile? Do you ever wonder if it was because Orion knew they’d follow power, and couldn’t trust them? Do you ever wonder if the hatred that they built up over the years was more for their loss of choice than it was for believing in any sort of cause? How Sentinel took it, and Orion, and then Megatron. Do you ever think about how some of them may have wanted to leave? But they couldn’t. Because they probably had seen what D-16 did to Starscream and Sentinel. They likely saw what he still does to Starscream. And it would be too much of a risk, but they longed to have that freedom to choose again. They longed to be far away from the leading front of a war. Do you ever think about how the High Guard left for war, hid, slaughtered, and then fought in more wars? Do you wonder if the High Guard ever got a moment of peace? Do you ever wonder if that only came to those who died, and if those still living will ever get it? Do you think the High Guard deserves to finally feel peace? Do you ever think about all these warriors, later named the Decepticons? Do you ever wonder about everything we know about them, and all that we don’t? Do you ever think about how much their numbers dwindled? Do you ever think about the lives they led before, and the lives they could’ve had? Do you ever wonder about the High Guard?

Because I sure do.

[spookysshadow]

Going off of that super successful, breadwinner Izuna and his career academic husband/house husband Tobirama - but set in founders era.

Like: The village gets built without Izuna being killed in battle (hooray!) - don't ask me how - it shall simply be. They agree for the sake of a more permanent peace that they should throw a marriage treaty in there - just in case.

Madara sees no point, but Izuna operates on the "I must have Tobirama within my filed of vision at ALL TIMES to avoid catastrophe" and so he volunteers to wife up Tobirama. They make a contract with the following details:

Tobirama will be allowed to keep up his training, but will be barred from missions until the Uchiha are more comfortable with it;

Consequentially he can also train the younger Uchiha within the presence of a senior member of the Clan (other shinobi or an elder);

He is to prioritize maintaining the household, mainly including but not limited to: caring for Izuna's ward, one Kagami Uchiha (let's just say, since Izuna's the one with the wife/projected to have a wife, he was given guardianship over wee Kagami instead of his brother), dealing with the household finances, and tending the garden/koi pond. They have a maid/chef, etc for other typical household things and would have had a gardener, but Izuna figured Senju = Nature people, sure why not;

He is allowed to do research and even have a lab instead the house/next to the house - but his research should prioritize his husband's clan first, then the village;

He has to bottom, unless his husband states otherwise

Hashirama takes one look at the agreement and is ready to throw hands. How dare they cage his baby brother? How dare they!

Meanwhile Tobirama, who is running on two hours of sleep, his sister-in-law's breakfast blend tea and a prototype ration bar he made that tastes like shit, skims through the contract ONCE and signs it.

Hashirama is freaking out because: OTOUTO, PLEASE YOU MUSTN'T - and Tobirama is like: Bitch stfu this sounds like a vacation. You mean to tell me I get to relax near fishes, get my back blown out, be a sensei and do as much research as I want?? Sign me UP!

Seriously, Tobirama can't remember the last time he has had this much free time. Of course, after some sleep and a proper meal he realizes maaaaaybe he should have read the terms and conditions a little more closely, but overall none of it sounds bad. He's mostly worried about Izuna's attitude, but even that doesn't really put a damper on his day.

Izuna and Madara, of course, are genuinely surprised the Senju agreed to fast to the contract, but hey they won't complain.

Fast forward in a few years and Izuna is the primary breadwinner, working at the Hokage Tower, taking missions, even being a Sensei to the Academy at some point. Meanwhile Tobirama is at home, tending to their koi pond (yes, Izuna they all do have their own names and yes, he will address them as such), training Kagami, working on medical advancements for his new clan's eye issues and some jutsus he never thought he'd ever get the chance to, giving his husband massages when he returns home from working so looong at the office all day, occasionally (all the time, really) enticing him into bed so he can help relax even more.

(It's been years, Izuna's asked him if he wishes to return to shinobi work or work more hands-on in the Hokage Tower instead of looking over Izuna's documents and nitpicking. But he always knows the answer is no - if anything he only asks because his brother and his brother-in-law urge him to. After all, he's never seen Tobirama this relaxed until after they got married -- he remembers feeling smug in the beginning, in thinking he'd effectively clipped his enemies wings by chaining him to the Uchiha. Instead Tobirama floated into his house with a calm and relief that Izuna initially was annoyed about - after all he was trying to piss off the Senju - Hashirama understood the assignment, why was his Senju always doing the opposite?

And then he realized how nice it was to have Tobirama waiting at home for him, with Kagami in tow. How happy it made him when his husband would tell him about what they train the young Uchiha's, later on some other students, in and what they got into. It was especially fun knowing that Tobirama had no issues with the dynamics of their sex life and if Izuna wanted to change it up, he was always willing to try something once - with notes -- and sure working in the Hokage Tower was brutal and they could have most definitely used Tobirama's help (sentiments whined by his brother and brother-in-law) but coming home to a relaxed, content husband who was willing to help him with the Village anyway and then cuddle with him when he got a stress headache? 20x better. )

aaaand that's all I got folks

[riding-the-sunset-bird]

Hey!

Since I started playing August last year I'd been lurking on the reddit (since I don't have an account) and always found the posts of the person who was writing "what choices determine Cove's X" so insightful and loved reading them

recently, i played the baxter DLC (still am not over it, it's my most favourite thing ever; i just love our pepe le pew) so I spent a lot of time on the reddit just reading up about him and what others thought bcs i LOVE deep analysis on characters that I've liked and I stumbled upon a bunch of your comments (which again, loved reading!) and I put a name to the comment

found the same username on tumblr and simultaneously found out you were the one who goes into the games files and wrote those posts I loved so, AH! Hi!

hahah my 'fangirling' and backstory aside, right after I played Baxter's DLC I felt like I didn't understand the reasons behind his actions? I know everyone talks about how he has self-worth issues and wanted to just be a memory but I don't get how that all correlated to completely detatching and not wanting to be a part of MC's life? Like did he care at all? If he didn't, why keep your number and the gift you gave him in one of the memories (Sightseeing?). But if he did care, how did he so easily at the beginning distance himself professionally? AND THEN REMINISCE ON ALL OUR MEMORIES TOGETHER BUT GO BACK TO PROFESSIONAL; LIKE WHAT WAS THE INTENTION

I feel like it is such a stupid question since it seems like everyone else gets it and the game explains it so many times but I just did not get it 😭

so if you could! could you help me understand it a little better? (and if you have talked about it before, no pressure to rewrite it all here I'd happily read another post of yours about it if you could kindly link it!)

i hope that makes sense haha, hope you have a lovely day and genuienly THANK YOU for what you do with your blog! its so great and even if you don't answer this ask i will LOVE reading everything you still put out!

-jaycee <3

*ahem*

Firstly--AAAAAAA >//////<

Thank you so much!! I do my best to help out so people can understand the code, and at times I just see it as something fun for me. So, when people enjoy them as well, it makes me so happy~

Also, I'd be delighted to answer your questions about Baxter! His DLC is absolutely packed so I get that sometimes it's hard to absorb it all. You asking someone for "help" and wanting to understand (rather than simply giving up or writing the DLC off) is admirable, honestly, not something to feel stupid about!

For me personally, I do believe that there are layers to it, and I'll try to do things in a different enough way/simplify them linearly in case that might help. Included will be quotes from the game to help things flow best.

All that said, let us now go on this journey into Baxter's mind together! ᕕ(ᐛ)ᕗ

(note that this got so long that I put a TL;DR/summarized version at the end, I just thought it was important to go into as much as possible; I also have a Reddit comment here that has a smaller/quoteless explanation)

Childhood and Early-to-Mid Teens

Let's take this chronologically. Picture a young Baxter Alexander Ward all the way back in Golden Grove. He's a rich boy with rich parents, and by rich, we're talking really rich. What already is so much to an adult is virtually limitless in the mind of a child, and it earns him a certain reputation amongst the population. Everyone knows the name of the Mr. and Mrs. Ward's only child, and it makes him extremely popular.

However, that doesn't mean he has true company, especially as his neighborhood situation is quite the opposite from the MC of either Our Life version, who are given one or two easily-accessible friends depending on the game.

"The land my family home was built on… I suppose you could call it somewhat remote. It's a fair-sized estate, situated a little ways off from the rest of the town. So, until I moved into college dorms, I'd go as far as to say that I'd never had neighbors before."

In other words, there's no one around his age nor does he have a sibling to play with. This isn't a big deal at first, given that he's young, innocent, and raised where anything he wanted was in his parents' budget. He's expected to act a certain way, certainly, but he can't understand the idea of needing anymore than what he has: he's the cute rich boy that has "everything" and that every kid wants to be close to.

So much so that it gives him an ego about it.

"What I do distinctly recall is that as a child I unequivocally thought I was better than other people. That those who met me were lucky, and I could pick anyone I wanted as company. The onus was on everyone else to impress. "If someone was boring or maybe I just didn't like the colors they were wearing that day, I could find a new playmate, easily. After all, I had the most to offer. "Naturally, what I was 'offering' was what my parents had. A big, cool house, exciting outings, the best toys. It wasn't until I was eleven or so when I developed my first stable friends. They might not have been rich like me, but they had their own charms. Those ties couldn't be replaced."

"I loved it when they would come and visit; there was scarcely anything better. They never got over their sense of awe, and I ate it up."

"Becoming attached to other people, especially those people, made me realize what I'd believed wasn't true. And it was so obvious. They were wonderful. I felt things I never had before. "All it took was being who they were. It didn't matter what their parents did. No fancy venue could top genuine comradery with their company. "And for whatever reason, I was in the club, and I was happy. The person who was lucky to be there was me. "I had wanted my friends to feel the same way towards me. To have that kind of incredible effect on another person for no reason other than that I was Baxter."

Thus, the confident boy Baxter sees in the mirror everyday, like a framed painting of the kind of person everyone wants to be, becomes distorted. Kids didn't flock to him because he was "Baxter," but because he was a rich boy who could wow them. He felt that even the friends he did manage to acquire only hung out with him because they were lovely people, because they also were not immune to being awed by his rich boy things, and because he got lucky.

Qiu - who's part of his friend group - being his first crush likely doesn't help matters. It's no longer about his own personal satisfaction, where he shows off and the kids involved do little more than stroke his ego; now there are kids who are the ones offering him something, and it's something he didn't even know he was missing.

This begins the initial spark of self-worth issues for Baxter, and it's a spark that snowballs as time goes on. He doubts himself, he doubts his ability to make his friends happy in the way that they make him happy, and he - when he's fourteen - goes so far as to doubt the impression something as simple as his hair gives off.

"The generous might say I could count it as black, or that it was 'black in the right light' as my parents placatingly put it. "The fact of the matter is that it's a dusty gray."

"Who would notice a color that wasn't exactly black? And why would they care, even if they did? "Me. I noticed. I noticed and it bothered me, so I dyed it. "Was it something I wanted only for my own preference, or was it because I believed if I saw it as an imperfection then that meant everyone else did? "Probably the latter."

(note that this is around the time that an MC might meet him in Soiree and potentially become his second crush)

So now you have a double-edged sword of sorts where Baxter wants to be good enough as he is, yet is actively covering up the parts of himself that he deems as flaws to be corrected.

In trying to craft this "perfect/better" version of himself, he's created a scenario in which he cannot win. Even if said version could make people happy, he is still not the real version of himself and goes on believing that any amount of joy he does create isn't even "him" doing it anyway.

This is already excluding the fact that his parents are *:･ﾟ✧ garbage ✧･ﾟ:* who always wanted him to act a particular way, and he knew they'd take issue with him if they didn't raise him personally.

"They understand care through the lens of control and protection. That's been their way ever since I was young. In that sense, they treat me no different from a child. "But, of course, they are quiet, educated, esteemed, and a tad old. As is their company, most days. That's not the environment to act as a kid. "That meant I've always been expected to behave with the maturity of someone their own age, or perhaps even older, somehow. "A bit of a paradox, isn't it? Do everything as an adult would while getting the respect an infant does."

"They're family and I'm their son. That is what matters at the end of the day, blood related or not. "I'm thankful for that as well. "Now, if I wasn't the boy they raised together in any capacity, then there would be problems."

Even the air of sophistication he has comes from his upbringing (though he's at least made that his own). There's the Baxter he actually is, the Baxter his parents expect him to be, and the Baxter he's trying to build up for himself to be someone he thinks can make those he cares for happy, all things that he tries to deal with himself as if that's at all manageable or healthy for him.

To the surprise of no one, things still aren't perfect. Without a trust that his friends like him simply because they like him, he doesn't realize - or refuses to contend with - the truth of the situation, and the age gap between them starts causing difficulties.

"I was older than all of them. As sheltered as I was, I got along better with kids not quite my own age. Immature as always, hm? "Life changed fast then, and the years between us became more noticeable with every day. I never reached a point where I felt like I knew what I was doing before suddenly, it was as if I didn't belong with them anymore. "That they didn't have time to keep me around with the differences in our schedules and priorities. And I accepted that. So, the friendships ended. We stopped talking as young teens, and I haven't even seen them since I left for college in 2015. "I thought they mattered to me, but when have I done anything for them? Why did I deserve to be liked and included when all I did was want that to happen and abandon them when it didn't?"

Now we're getting closer to the white-and-black-haired Baxter we know as, at the time he leaves Golden Grove, he's just one year away from his visit to Sunset Bird and simultaneously no closer to knowing what he's doing. He's broken off from his old, cherished, and only significant friend group, and now he's all the way on the other side of the country in Virginia by himself.

He's still chaotic, still kindhearted, yet has no clue that he deserves to have the kind of companionship he longs for. In the year of him being at college, he fails to make those kinds of connections, whether intentionally or otherwise.

"Instead, you could say I don't have many friends. I spend the majority of my time on my own, though I do attend parties and other gatherings when I am able. "I do not have anything quite similar waiting for me there. Don't feel bad about that. "It is only to be expected. I did move across the country. It is a fairly common phenomenon for those of us who do. I'm a regular fish out of water, if you will."

"It hasn't been easy to find anyone to reminisce with, not for a while. But then again, I only developed a sentimentality once I'd gone off to college. "I was too young and proud for that sort of matter before then. There wasn't anything in my life to harbor much sentimentality for. I suppose leaving was the catalyst. Isn't it always? "But once that part of my mind had developed, there wasn't anyone around to share the emotions with. My classmates and I… we don't have that kind of relationship."

His parents are also just as controlling as ever, only allowing him to enjoy his semester off from college under their rules and in a place they personally chose and are comfortable with. Baxter, who had no interest in going home to Golden Grove and thus agrees to the terms, can only make himself comfortable by finding his own ways of having fun, such as renting a car despite being underage.

"At a minimum, I can honestly say that I wish that I missed it, if that makes sense. I don't know how you feel about your hometown particularly, but you should at least be able to appreciate that I spent all of my youth there. "I'm not so jaded as to totally discount the place, far from it. But anything I liked about my home wasn't exactly exclusive to that locale. The US is a big country, and there are plenty of beautiful things to see wherever you go. "I've experienced enough to know that much, at least. So no, I don't miss it. And I won't be going back. "If my parents wish to see me, they'll have to be the ones visiting where I am.

"Mother and Father agreed to me vacationing on my own, but under the condition that they would have the choice of where I stayed. "California being fairly close by, and Sunset Bird being so quaint, not to mention our prior excursions to the area, they concluded that this was the easiest way to keep me out of trouble."

Basically, it's all going back to his line about expecting him to behave as an adult whilst treating him like a child. He's permitted to vacation by himself but only in a town as "boring" as Sunset Bird where there would naturally be very few teenagers around his age. His streak for being a bit of a rebel reflects that.

What he doesn't expect is to meet a new group of people and the MC in particular, who unintentionally challenges his negative view on himself.

Step 3

From the very beginning, Baxter takes immediate interest in the MC and Cove, wanting to make one of those "blissful, temporary relationships" that will last the summer. Already, we have something of note, which is the 50/50 success rate he ended up having: MC and Terry were all for the absurdly friendly monochrome man that swooped into town, whereas Cove and Miranda were more hesitant (and thus didn't spend as much time with him) because his directness tended to put them off.

"I care a great deal about what I say and that it makes the correct impression. Yet I am not always successful. My approach is off, really."

"Now, this may be a complete shock to you, but… I've been told that I can come across as a bit too forward. I know. It can be hard to believe. My intent is to be open with people so we can connect. It almost never works out that way, though. I've had to come to terms with the fact that I don't possess a knack for making friends. "It was obnoxiously easy when I was a child. Especially due to that aforementioned big, cool house. But now I keep finding myself at a loss for how to do it. With the hit-or-miss endeavor, the vast majority of the time I come up with a miss."

"And I've never been in a stable, long-term relationship. They've all been brief, and varying levels of disastrous."

Put more simply, Baxter knows what he wants but doesn't understand what people want out of him (believing more that they don't want him at all). On some level, he's flying blind and simply does what he can to put his best foot forward, not wanting to miss opportunities when they present themselves to him. He's someone who likes seeing people thrive and enjoy themselves, and it's even better if he knows that he caused it.

"I live for approval."

Thus, as the "perfect summer tourist" who wants to vacation and have a fun time with those that he can, he seeks to do everything possible to make it memorable. That doesn't mean that he goes out of his way to do things he doesn't want to or portray himself as this person who doesn't even resemble who he actually is, but he puts on an air of not having any flaws that would cause him to be any form of burden to others.

This is even excluding the parallel of a group of four friends that he's involved with yet feels distant from or like he doesn't belong in at the same time; history repeating itself and what not, though in his case it's more like a self-fulfilling prophecy, emphasized by the possibility of him asking the MC out on a summer fling.

"I don't care about what label you'd choose to put to it. I could be your boyfriend, or nothing at all. "And you can also change your mind without consequence, if you find out it's not what you imagined further down the line."

Baxter gives the MC every out he can to make things as convenient as possible for them, not only so that the relationship isn't serious and they don't have to worry about it, but so they can break it off whenever they wish. He knows full well that even the person he's presenting himself as won't please everyone and sets everything up so he can almost anticipate the ending if the MC gets bored with him because he fails to impress.

He's interested in them, attracted to them, and feels that he'll enjoy their company, but he only thinks he can do the same on the short-term; that small amount of time where people are still learning about one another where little else is hoped for beyond good things.

Another way of looking at it is based on Baxter's view of control.

"It might not surprise you to know that I can be a touch… particular. I know the importance of coherence, with individuals acting in a well-coordinated fashion. And I like things to function well-for systems to operate smoothly. "I confess, you could call me controlling, at times. Not with people, but with processes. Especially when it comes to enacting plans. I'd much rather act under my own steam than follow someone else's lead. "I'm only flexible with the personal, not the business, aspects of life."

His relationship with the MC is, on some level, a process. It's something for him to carefully plan out and calculate to make it the best he can for them. Getting more personal would involve him revealing the parts of himself that he finds distasteful and believes the MC will as well.

Of course, he doesn't anticipate growing attached to them, which brings in the "risk versus reward" aspect. This can be seen when Baxter initially agrees to have drinks with the MC in the morning that he hates so much, where the safe option would be to simply postpone until another day, except he wants to spend time with them as soon as possible.

In that respect, it's not unlike him struggling to decide on the type of ice cream he'd like.

"My problem is this: I'm unsure if I should get a dessert that's to my usual taste. If I do, I'd be certain to enjoy what comes from the ice cream truck. That would be nice. "But, on the other hand, this may happen only once. Perhaps it'd be more rewarding to get something new, an option that would be challenging to find in a common store. "Which will add more to the experience? Indulgence or novelty? I want to make the right choice."

However, his risks don't end up panning out well in his mind because he's unable to get past something so minor as forgetting his wallet, when all he and the MC had planned to do was have a nice time at a cafe in Drinks. In his mind, the Baxter he's trying to present had failed, and what else can he do at that point (under his perceived logic) but do what he remembers worked from childhood?

"It's a question of knowing the right people who know the right people. We could have even had full backstage access with the main cast if I'd asked. "I do try not to lean on that kind of thing too much, if you can believe me. I appreciate it might not look like it now. You could say it's a means for me to preserve my sense of independence. It's easy to be popular if you can foot the bill, and I don't want that to be what draws others to me. "But after all that, here I am, leaning on the same old crutch. Nothing has changed since I was six."

"I suppose that was part of the issue. I didn't consider myself appealing enough as a person to be worth the time. So, I wanted the support of an exciting or interesting backdrop for meetups. "But… it shouldn't matter that much where you are if you enjoy who you're with."

Baxter expects perfection out of himself in the same way that his parents expected things out of him, and the limitations follow accordingly. He wants little more than the MC's presence and it is up to him to "repay them" for it. When he was a child, he was the one everyone else had to impress, and now it's the other way around: he has to impress those he wants to be around.

Except he's only human, and aiming to be the perfect person for the MC all summer simply isn't feasible, which he takes with every ounce of criticism one can imagine.

"This whole situation… it's asinine. I haven't known you long enough to be causing this kind of trouble. I'm quite literally a stranger. And I won't even be here long enough for that to change. As welcoming as you all are here, that can't be forgotten. "This was-I was-only ever supposed to be a part of the fun. A worthwhile piece of summer scenery. Someone who added to the experience, not held it back. You shouldn't have to baby me! To sit there and spend your time making me feel better when I don't keep it together. "The mess I am in the mornings, the drama I cause in the evenings: the person I am when the show is over. Those aspects shouldn't be any of your concern. I don't provide that support to you, do I? And how could I when I don't know you? "No. It's not fair to make you worried or, worse, guilty over what happens to me. What matters is that when we're together it's for the pleasant parts of existence. The less ideal shades of life can be managed separately. "That's all I wanted."

Two things to note as well is that he'll say all of the same dialog even if he and the MC have experienced Hang or Planning (where Baxter can comfort them), and there's a dialog path in Sightseeing (i.e: the moment most players will play first) where he'll openly say that he hopes they count for "more than strangers."

(He's additionally rejected the idea that he knows the MC despite relishing every given opportunity to listen to the MC babble about even the most mundane things.)

So not only will he deny to himself that comforting the MC was worth enough to count (or unintentionally block it from his mind), but when it comes to things becoming more personal, suddenly he's "just a stranger/near-stranger." The MC can be comforted when they need it but not him, and he's just some nobody tourist when it comes time to put any value on himself...

whether that be the simple things like driving everyone around, to the stuff that takes effort to notice like him seeing that the MC wanted to ride in the passenger seat, to the more complex like literally saving Miranda's entire birthday party.

"I couldn't have devised a more pleasant way to spend my time here, even if I tried. And to be frank, I have tried. I didn't come to Sunset Bird totally devoid of any plans or ideas. "You and your friends have invited me to participate in an event with great significance to you. It's a profound gesture to show to a relative stranger. "When it's over, and I'm long gone from here, I hope you can all look back on this party for years to come-maybe for the rest of your lives-and treasure the memory. "And if I am a part of that memory, then that is satisfaction enough. Though perhaps I'm in danger of giving my contribution too much credit."

A hypocrite (I say this affectionately, I swear) of the highest order; there are rules for himself and no other rules for everybody else. The things he does are never enough whereas everyone else does plenty by simply existing and giving him the time of day.

Leaving the way he does with no contact and little hope of seeing each other again is the inevitable result of the process he'd put together for his time with the MC and his summer at Sunset Bird. From the beginning, he's had a time frame to keep to, an intent to not get attached, an expectation that no one would get attached to him, and an idea that he would leave as little more than a memory.

"Only lately it's been different. Incredibly different. I almost worry my luck won't last. It will all be over soon. "I wish… I could stay."

Except he does get attached, just as the MC gets attached to him (in what he can admit in Step 4 is the most stable relationship he's ever been in), and now all the control he feels he had goes out the window. That's why he has the potential to get upset if the MC keeps pushing his buttons by questioning him.

"I would've preferred it to have been an enjoyable time having my company while I happened to be here, that was the intention. It seems I've ruined that on the whole. I accept the blame for that. If I had behaved better this wouldn't have come to a close on such an abhorrent note. "However, I am not an irreplaceable part of your life. I was a tourist, a novelty. And now I'm not even that. So don't bother with this."

To him, everything is so obvious: he got "lucky" getting to hang out with his Golden Grove friends, who were simply so nice that they continued bothering with him at all despite his flaws. Considering how that ended, he expected the same where no one would bat an eye if he left.

The MC trying to hang onto what they have isn't a sign that he had done anything right, but that the MC is being their sweet, considerate self in thinking about him. He's had at least five years of criticizing himself, of trying to make people happy yet downplaying it when he does, that everything the MC says goes in one ear and out the other.

"I heard you then and each reasonable suggestion to salvage the situation, but I brushed you off as if you were the one being dramatic. Or that you were lying."

At some point between having his Golden Grove friend group to now, his priorities had changed. He'd given up on having true value to people and instead focuses on creating moments (an appropriate word to use given how the game works) with them. It's a natural progression from not believing he's important to not believing he could ever possibly be.

Even basic traits he does have that one will likely see as something to adore, he won't attribute to himself.

"Now, I do admit, though, that isn't what one might call a grand love story. It's simplicity itself. "I'm not the most romantic or sentimental person in the world. I know that can be at odds with my formality, yet it's the way I am."

He'll say he's not romantic nor sentimental while being one of the most romantic and sentimental people in the game, so either he's unaware of it or refuses to associate positive words like those with himself. On the flip side, he can falsely associate others with credit for things they've done without acknowledging the finer details that might negate his point.

For example, in the Wedding DLC, Baxter gives so much credit to Cove for "staying" and "trying" without understanding that Cove didn't have a choice on whether to stay or leave the MC initially due to still being a child (who absolutely would have left and in fact did try to leave in the Step 1 DLC). He's also one of the few characters who doesn't consider Cove "clingy," probably because he's just as clingy if not more so.

By unknowingly projecting his self-hatred onto the MC's view of him, he's come to the idea that the MC has already gotten as much out of the relationship with him as possible without things completely falling apart, and daring to want anything further is his own self-interest/ego getting to him.

It's even to the point of deciding that everything is his fault if the MC kissed him in Planning when they weren't dating.

"I must apologize for that. I shouldn't have done it. Even at the time I knew I shouldn't have. That was a bad idea. One that only managed to complicate our relationship further. "I shouldn't have involved you in more of my selfishness."

So his conclusion in the Step 3 ending is that he's lost no matter what and genuinely cannot comprehend the idea that he had done anything right for the MC to want to stay in contact with him.

If the MC contently accepts separating from him, then that proves to him that he isn't someone worth sticking around for. If they instead get upset or want to stay in touch, then he has somehow done something wrong in the way he went about things and presented himself. It all goes back to being a scenario he's set himself up not to win.

"In short, what I'm saying is that I'm a fraud in all regards. You can't take any of it seriously, including what color my hair is."

"I don't deserve to have that kind of relationship with another person. That's why. I don't contribute anything. "Maybe I can impress others for a time, but how do you go beyond that? I can't say what it means to be significant as a person, to be irreplaceable. "And since I don't have the answer, I certainly wasn't going to assume I'd do it by accident. What does it take to add value to someone simply just by being there? I tried, but I never knew. "In my eyes there's a world of humans living freely among one another, while every connection I create is so fragile. If I make the wrong step I might hurt them, or be hurt myself, and if it's strained at all it will break entirely."

The sad part of it is that it makes sense, in a way. The things he did for the MC - baring perhaps that damned chocolate fountain - were almost effortless to him. He wanted to do them, so why would he think he did anything special?

One of the very few times he's willing to talk in any way bad about another is only if the MC uses Jude and Scott's relationship as a reason for why they could keep in touch. That's when his cynical side comes out.

"Of course, my rather reasonable prediction is that it will not last. Most relationships don't."

As things were that summer, Baxter viewed the MC as someone he would love to know, but not someone who wanted to know him because he doesn't think he's likable; that the slightest inconvenience to them - to anyone - would make him not worth keeping in touch with any longer. The MC also has friends who have been around longer than him, and he's never considered that he could have any role amongst them.

Tempting fate was never his intention, yet that's exactly what he does in believing they'll never meet again, drawn together as if the longing makes them magnetic to each other.

Step 4

As is standard with the inevitable passage of time and growing older, Baxter is slowly finding himself and improving as a person over the five years that he and the MC are apart. Some things change and others stay the same, whether for better or worse.

Though, any positives aren't particularly noteworthy to Baxter himself.

"I can say that I've improved some talents over the years and found a less eye-catching sense of style, but for anything meaningful there's been no growth."

Due to his self-worth issues, he never thinks what he does is good enough and is wholly focused on where he's yet to improve upon, even though he is fully aware about the parts of himself he has worked on.

"You don't need to worry. I'm not quite as sensitive as I used to be about mistakes. I will survive this, pride as wounded as it may be from these trials and tribulations."

"Part of the tragedy of adult life is learning to roll with the punches, so to speak. I suppose I should be proud of the fact that I can at least handle it much better than when I was younger. "Thinking about what kind of panic a younger Baxter would have been thrown into at the prospect of a missing shirt on an important day-"

Under that lens, it doesn't matter what he does or how he deals with the issues he feels are a burden to himself and/or others; there's always an asterisk - that he's attached to them - to act as a "yes, but..."

"I'm fortunate that thanks to my upbringing I happen to be well acquainted with formality and what it takes to authentically achieve it for an event. It's a unique kind of direct experience to wield. "Additionally, I deal well with the high level of control and detail-work one must take in a stressful event. "When it comes to work, I absolutely can make decisions. It's only in my personal life where I lack conviction. "And that's most suited in bursts with different people rather than a long-term position in a consistent group. You can easily get sick of someone who needs everything to be 'just so'."

Similar to the weddings he involves himself with as he graduates and gets a career as a wedding planner, there is an ideal final product to work towards, but one he could never conceivably be happy with because he's already starting from a place of seeing himself as someone worthless as an individual. It shapes said final product into something entirely unrealistic, never mind completely unachievable.

As for figuring out a life for himself, that goes hand-in-hand with where he ultimately chooses as his first place to live: Prism Vista City, which Mr. "Definitely Not Sentimental" ends up getting attached to.

"This, ahem, particular location was intended to be only a starting point. I was coming from the complete other side of the country, and I at least knew I enjoyed the area. "I expected to relocate once I had my bearings. It wasn't my intention to linger where I might not be welcomed. "But who could've guessed it was harder to pack up and leave everything behind once you had silly things such as an 'actual apartment in your own name' and a 'real career' tying you down? "Weeks passed, then months, and then, perhaps inevitably, I came face to face with one of the reasons I developed such a positive outlook on this state to begin with. "You know, it never ceases to amaze me. California is directly beside Oregon. I could practically walk there if I was industrious, and stupid, enough. "Despite that, being here is a wholly different experience than what I had being raised in the neighboring state. "Sometimes it seems as if I'm still a tourist. That I don't belong here, and everyone who passes by can smell the otherness on me. "Other days, I have the confidence to think I've found my own place in the world…"

That's one thing that never changes about Baxter in virtually all of his life: the desire to simply belong somewhere. What does change is how he approaches that want.

He wanted to belong with his Golden Grove friends, but fell out with them due to the circumstances and chalked it up to a failure on his part. When he wanted to belong with his Sunset Bird ones, he'd already decided himself that it would never happen to save him from any potential disappointment, and that simply being there for a summer would be enough.

In adulthood, he's given up on such things entirely. No more friends, no more flings, and even his most consistent contact - his parents - have been cut out of his life (though in the latter case, it's for the better).

"What happened, I do exactly… that to everyone who unfortunately crosses my path. "The acquaintances I made at college, dancing partners, the friends I had since childhood; my parents, though, that is an entirely different story. "The point of the matter is, excluding those I interact with regularly due to work, I have no relations whatsoever. That's simply the way it goes."

"To start, I haven't spoken to my parents in, mm, a few years now. That's what I meant when I included them in the list of relationships I haven't maintained. "Don't worry. It isn't a painful topic for me, exactly. Mostly I find it… disappointing. Frustrating? Certainly awkward. "Before I cause too much concern, they've never done anything to intentionally hurt me; my parents have always cared for my well-being. "And I can't deny how much they have done for me - all the opportunities and advantages I had because they provided them. They gave me the best they knew how and- "This is not as nuanced as I might be making it sound. "What a novelty it would be if I could speak favorably of my own family. Can you imagine? "That's not the case, however. "What I am trying to say is that my parents are, on the whole, good to me. And they do love me as their child whom they raised for nearly two decades. "Just as I still feel compelled to give them credit for the minimum, I'm certain they're telling their acquaintances endless excuses for why I'm so distant and unagreeable with them. "They haven't given up on me, in their own way. "But all that does not make them good people. "I can assure you that because they are not good people. I'm merely a rare exception to the unpleasantness. "My parents are selfish- they're sheltered. Even as adults."

"Imagining myself as not their son and not someone they loved seemed meaningless at the time. They did love me and that's what mattered. "Of course, it's not always enough, is it? "If I wasn't theirs, either through birth or adoption, if I was someone else's son, they… would hate me. "I know I'm foolish, on many counts. It took me a long time to realize that them being hypocritical shouldn't reassure me the way it did. "Baxter Ward could have as many 'shortcomings' or 'problems' as he did and it'd be fine because it was 'different' in that case. There were reasons, can't you see? "But they couldn't see that other people deserved the same kind of understanding. "And that some things weren't 'problems' in the first place…"

The true tragedy of it being that it's heavily implied that Baxter's parents did attempt to teach him or at least act in a way that would lead him towards a life without any meaningful relationships, which is what he got when he became an adult but not ever what he truly wanted.

"And their nonsense priorities and concerns are what my parents expected from me! "How ironic that I can finally see the silver lining of my lifelong struggles thanks to them. "If I never realized how poor my connections were, or if I never cared that my relationships were nothing more than associations based on conveniences, maybe I'd have been who they wanted."

Arguably, Baxter is at the most "successful" place in his life: he might not be rich anymore, but he's making his own money with a job that suits him, he has a nice apartment, and he's living comfortably.

Except he's not happy, and convinces himself that it's as good as he's ever going to get. It's both the highest and lowest point of his life.

"Of course, I wouldn't be able to understand the viewpoint of someone willing to commit themselves to another person for the rest of their life. "It's what makes for a good planner. I can get invested just enough in the premise to truly create something special, but I'm not attached to the real relationship. "And I'm not disappointed when it's over. "It's been years since I was careless enough to be hurt by anything. "I'd given up on trying for more than what I already had. Then I told others, and myself, that meant I was always content. But honestly, it made me bitter. "I didn't become the person I wanted to be. I didn't achieve the kind of life I'd hoped for."

He couldn't even maintain his relationship with dance, something he'd adored since he was young and now limits to lessons given to wedding couples.

"In a way, I fell out of love with that passion. "It became tedious and unsatisfying to do it with complete strangers, and I didn't have enough hours in a day to dedicate to a long-term competitive partner any longer. "But perhaps I should've tried harder not to give it up entirely. "How embarrassing… even my choice of hobby revolved around having a serious and understanding relationship with someone else. "The precise matter I've had a lifelong struggle to obtain."

As for the MC, Baxter misses them desperately, but goes about his life as though he doesn't. He's committed to viewing himself as someone who doesn't deserve them and that what he did was the right thing to do.

It would seemingly be "easy" then to let go of anything that reminds him of them, in hopes of either limiting the times that he finds himself thinking back to those moments or steering himself towards moving on, but he can't.

The MC's souvenir (if they gave him one)...

"I am fond of it even now. I've never been able to part with it. But isn't that what souvenirs are for? Keeping for the long term? "I'm being entirely reasonable for holding onto that after thoroughly leaving everything in Sunset Bird behind."

Their number...

"I had your number all along. "Of course, I never looked at it over the years we were apart, but didn't have it in me to delete it either."

Even the khaki shirt he wore during Mountain (if he and the MC were dating at the time and they invited him up to their room)...

"It remains my stolen property to this day."

He keeps all of them, unable to let go of the feelings the MC caused within himself but locking them deep inside rather than addressing them. He has the very method for contacting the MC at any time to reconnect, to explain himself, to apologize, to confirm or reject his own doubts over what happened, but he doesn't out of fear.

"I said it before- my concern was protecting my own feelings. Anything I did to that end felt justified. "The more time and experience let me reflect on my actions, I only became more convinced I should stick to my word and not trouble you further."

"I've also missed you over those five years. "And Terry and Miranda and Cove and that summer in Sunset Bird, but mostly, it was you who I thought of. "During that trip, I did feel wanted. "You made me feel wanted. And… important. "It was exciting and amazing, and felt impossible it could last. The shine would wear off eventually, as always. I didn't want to see it happen. "What if I seemed pathetic for being attached to people I met on a short vacation? You had your real group of friends who lived with you there already. "Or what if you stopped responding to me after realizing I wasn't that interesting? Or why would I have even assumed there'd be a reason to talk to me at all once it was no longer convenient? "I'm aware that's not a kind way to view you, but it wasn't that you'd done something to make me believe it would happen. It's my viewpoint for every situation."

Baxter never once thinks that the MC is a bad person, simply that he is the problem and even the best of people will "understandably" lose interest in him if there's any interest to begin with. As someone who likes control and has been conditioned to stray away from more personal relationships, it's advantageous to him to remain in his self-sabotaging mindset.

It's what he's used to.

"I can't afford to flitter off on vacations whenever the mood strikes the way my parents can, but I have a very comfortable existence. "It's nice, if lonely. "Of course, let's not pretend I have anyone to blame for that other than myself. I ended every relationship I had with my own actions. "It's the story of my life. I want to be liked, but I don't want to be important. "A suitor for a season, the planner at a wedding- it's that kind of role I'm comfortable in. "Perhaps that's why I'm drawn to people who are wanted by everyone else. They don't need me. I can be someone, I can't be 'the one'."

So when his Step 4 begins and the MC unexpectedly shows up back in his life, five years after Baxter expressed confidence that they would never meet again, he can barely handle it. Without his say so, he's being confronted with feelings that haven't faded, and ones he already thinks are ridiculous of him to have considering how short of a time he'd known the MC.

The best he can think to do is to put on an air of professionalism and brush the rest off. He'd already left, not contacted the MC for so long, and had remained determined to never see them again, so he doubles down on it.

"I'm merely an employee of your friends. Please feel free to ignore me entirely."

However, it's not tenable, because Baxter has never been someone with the impulse control to keep him in check. Even in the few days he knows that the MC will be around and then leave afterwards, holding himself back from doing what he wants isn't something he can keep up for that long.

In front of people like Jude and Scott who he doesn't know, it's at least easier, but around someone like Xavier who he has some form of friendlier relationship with (only a day after he'd conveyed to himself and the others that he's nothing more than the wedding planner), he's already dropping stories about the past.

"As soon as it comes to you it appears my reason goes out the window. Along with much of my dignity. "But that is how it is."

"Enjoying myself in your presence is the most natural thing in the world. Frustratingly so, at times. I find myself letting go of more than I intended to."

It's also not that Baxter doesn't want to talk to the MC because, if the MC tries to get him to talk during the ride back from the bakery, he deliberately makes it a game of rock-paper-scissors that they'd be guaranteed to win if they wanted to. He could've shut them down entirely if he didn't care, but he finds a middle ground of technically not agreeing outright while still letting the MC talk to him.

"The petty types of decisions that were best suited to be decided with randomness mattered little to me. "It was far more amusing to see who would use the advantage they had to win and who would be willing to take the loss, and why they seemed to do so. "At the bare minimum I'm not that much of a brat any longer. "As an adult, I use it mainly to get away with not making decisions of my own. Whoever is playing with me has the responsibility to win or lose because what they're up against is preordained. "I don't even need to choose which symbol my hand takes. It's easier that way."

Not that it means he's alright with it either. Baxter is already under the stress of planning a wedding in a matter of days and now has to deal with seeing the MC again, sometimes one-on-one. He doesn't want to be cruel to them, doesn't want things to be so difficult, nor did he want the MC to be "forced" to go with him to the bakery (on a suggestion he couldn't have known would lead to it), but that's what ends up happening.

"I'm not any less immature than I was five years ago, it seems. I've been incredibly rude to you, and that is inexcusable. "You're not unwelcome near me. Of course not. "However, I'm here to plan Jude and Scott's wedding. My priority is that only, and I don't want to get caught up in anything else. "There's no need to reminisce. I hope that's not insulting, it's honestly not meant to be a strike against your character. "You are a lovely person and have many wonderful friends. You don't need me to be an active part of your life."

"I apologize for what happened between us, I honestly do regret it. "I am sorry I hurt you. I am sorry I was unable to keep my word and have bothered you yet again. "I'm thoroughly humiliated and have attempted to get in your way as little as possible. Though I'm unable to quit outright; I couldn't do that to Jude and Scott. "We are both aware that I am fully incapable of making you happy. But in four days you'll return to your life blissfully free of my presence in it. "Please tell me, what can I do for you? I simply don't know…"

It feels terrible for him, but this is the cycle he's gotten himself into: wanting to stick to what he'd done in Step 3 under the belief that the MC would be better off without him, feeling nostalgic for the past to the point where it ends up coming out, behaving distantly as a result and hating himself for it, then apologizing just to do it all over again because he's constantly going against what he actually wants.

"Every time I'm arrogant enough to believe I know what I'm doing and that I'm in control- I don't and I'm not."

"From the moment you walked into that restaurant, my actions were nothing but self-preservation and damage control and, occasionally, reminiscing to an extent I was pleased with. "Yes, I had a 'professional commitment' not to let personal matters impede the work that needed to be done, but my distancing went far beyond that. "In the end, I was using their marriage as an excuse. "If not for that, then there would have been something else. Some trivial reason for keeping you at arm's length. That likely doesn't shock you."

Baxter is essentially shielding his heart from the very thing that would protect him from his own attacks on it. He goes so far that he considers texting the MC directly to be overstepping boundaries (even if it's for work), all after continuing to let go the most whenever he's reminded of times with the MC.

He's aware that he's attached and readily admits as much when it comes time to.

"Even I can admit I wouldn't do this for every client. "And somehow, that makes this worse. It's painfully obvious I have some personal investment, enough to merit this. "More than I intended to be. More than I ought to have. "I wouldn't have done this if you weren't here… "Even though Miranda was the client's sister- "I wouldn't have offered. It'd be overreaching, to do as much as I have. "I've gone beyond the line of pure professionalism more than once already. The cake is the icing on top."

"Well, naturally, it's against my better judgment to make anyone uncomfortable. "Of course, in such a tight spot Jude wouldn't have questioned any help he was offered. "But what would Miranda have thought? And Terry as well? If some strange man they knew long ago was getting that personally involved in their situation? "I wouldn't have crossed that line, no matter how much sympathy I had for Jude's position. "So, where did my confidence come from? Very simply- I thought you would understand. "That I had good intentions, that the odd lengths I went to was merely how I am, that it was okay to let me be involved. And if you did understand, everyone else would as well."

Deep down, he knows that he is not a stranger; that he knows the MC and trusts them on a level deeper than he thought possible before meeting them. The MC brings out the best in him while simultaneously revealing the most vulnerable parts of himself to himself, which gives him all forms of conflicting emotions.

"I… "It's odd, really. I'm the one who left. "And yet I haven't stopped seeing you as someone important to me. Important in my life. "It truly does seem as though everything I did was for no reason at all."

"It's been hard not to feel nostalgic, this past week. We've had quite a stroll down memory lane. Sometimes by happenstance, sometimes because I went out of my way to do so. "I have… fond memories of those days in Sunset Bird. Treasured memories. "Like most treasures, they're things to be taken out and admired from time to time, and then put away again. "Though, some are too delicate for even that. They should never be touched. "This evening is a reprise of something I never wished to relive."

To put it in another way, though Baxter cherishes the time he spent with the MC, anything that brings him back to such times confront him with everything he's tried to avoid.

Yearning for the things he'd tried to put behind him, the what ifs of things going differently, and the doubts of all he's done thus far based on his own conclusions...

"Back then, during my tourist phase, we took that brief trip to the mountains. On a hike, we passed a tree that had fallen across a stream. "If you can picture that, it was as if we were on opposite sides, and I couldn't take the path to you because it looked risky."

Not unlike his fear of the ocean, Baxter's biggest hurdle is that final step past the point of no return: taking the plunge and trusting in his ability to survive.

"It seems endlessly deep and unpredictable, with powerful waves and rapid currents. "And there are creatures lurking in there. Some of them are larger than me. It's unfathomable. You don't play with something like that. "If I enter that water, I'll never return from it. The ocean will swallow me whole. That's what I think."

It's only by the end of the wedding reception that he finally crosses that line and has the epiphany necessary to deal with everything that had happened: the opening of the oven to check the result of a baked cake rather than leaving it a mystery, the flick of the switch to look at a room he'd always kept in darkness prior, and the throwing of himself into deep water and realizing he can still breathe.

"In the past, I spent every moment around other people thinking of the limited span of our acquaintance. As if I wasn't seeing them at all, only the imminent departure. "Our arrangements fell in line with that. A clear timeframe, limited from the outset; predetermined rules set in stone. "It was that way five years ago. It was that way now. "We'd cooperate for a short period in service of Scott and Jude's wedding, and that would be that. I've said as much myself. More than once. "The problem is, as I only recently realized… "I forgot about that. "You see, I thought, completely and earnestly, that I didn't need to speak with you now, here, when I was feeling so… sensitive. "We could simply pick up where we left off later tonight or tomorrow. The fact that we no longer had a 'reason' to interact didn't come up as part of the consideration."

When he wasn't the one setting the rules, when he was the one caught off guard by someone he cared so much about reappearing into his life, when he was forced back into reliving past regrets and under the pressure of facing them all over again when their second/third time together was over, that ended up being when he found what he needed to talk to the MC. That was when he finally had to listen to what his heart was saying rather than constantly denying himself.

Perhaps even most importantly, that was when he had to face the fact that what he did - the suffering he put himself through for five years - had achieved nothing of value, and it's only through acknowledging it that he can keep it from happening again.

"When I left five years ago, that didn't make me happy. When I kept you at arm's length after meeting again, I was unhappy still. "If it doesn't need to be that way, if I was wrong, then… I don't know, honestly. I've never considered it a viable option until moments ago."

"It had been so long since I'd known what it was like to be included, to be around people who'll refuse to let you be left out, no matter how hard you try to weasel out of it. "Terry, Miranda, and Cove were too kind, but it was your gestures specifically that are at the heart of this matter. "Here's the truth: if you didn't ask me to dance again, in the afterhours of another event we helped create like you did then, it would have broken my heart. "That would mean definitively that I lost what we had. "But… if you did ask it would be more painful. Because that would mean- "It would mean even after everything, you hadn't let me go. That you accepted me still. "That you always would have, that I should've believed that all along, that the only thing I've done was hurt you and myself of my own accord. "It's horrible. I didn't want to know one way or the other."

The uncomfortable truth, a placating lie, or the blissful void of not knowing anything at all: those were the choices he had and he finally chose the uncomfortable truth, all for the closure the MC deserves and the potential prospect of a better future if he can only make it past the obstacles he'd set up for himself.

"But I can see now that I'm also wrong for making another decision for you. Even if the conversation went disastrously, you were owed a better explanation and an apology. "You had never asked me to leave you alone, I created that fiction. "I hope you can accept that I did care for you then- I care now. Of course, as ever, none of it counts for much if it's kept entirely to oneself."

"It's… a little hard to approach what I've sowed over the years. So many mistakes. "And even now, when I hope to make things right, to make things last, I'm forced to admit that I'm ignoring the reality of the situation. "This doesn't come down to what I want at all. I don't have the right to put myself before you. I never did."

"I suppose that is the true story of my life: me not understanding a thing and getting it all wrong at every turn. "But rather than dancing around this, I'll say it directly: not trying to stay in touch with you is something I've regretted for a long time. "I will always regret the days I lost, even now that we've reconnected."

That doesn't mean everything is magically fixed, nor that he won't fall into some old habits. He has to catch himself when he automatically excludes himself from the MC's meeting with their moms, and he'll still be apologizing and criticizing himself long after the MC has forgiven him.

"You've never allowed me to wallow in my misery, except for when you had to. When I made you have to because you couldn't get a hold of me. "But when I see you, I'm reminded of what it is like to be seen. "How it feels to have someone who knows you, cares about you, has memories with you, who wants to make more memories together. "And I tried to undo that- "Twice. By keeping you as far away from me as I could."

"Unfortunately, I've yet to think of a good reason why this admission isn't another of my patently bad ideas. It isn't as though I've been thoughtful in return. "I can't stand doing anything in the morning, even if I can pretend to, for my clients. As you know, I can't afford elaborate trips these days. "My only remaining social contacts are limited to the wedding industry, not performative theatre or owners of fancy cars or the like. "I've never been a good partner, even a good friend, to anyone who has crossed my path."

"My few victories were hollow and I'm still sorry I took that out on you at the start of this."

Nevertheless, he has no desire to run away from the MC now, because he never had a desire to run in the first place. He just needed to understand that it was okay to want, and that he wasn't the worthless person he thought he was so he could stop projecting how he felt about himself onto how people feel about him.

This makes way for Baxter to experience a lot of things that most people would have long since had at that point in their lives: he gets excited simply by having a person hanging out at his house, is incredibly pleased to have someone he can be (dance) with, and he's so amazed that he can have these things in his life that he's actively eager to prove to the MC how much he'll be sticking around, to the point of being ready to visit them at the soonest time possible.

"Hallelujah. Admittedly, a part of me was convinced I wouldn't go through with it. What if you thought I had lost my mind to follow you right after we barely reestablished a connection? "But having this last day together, knowing it was the last, was the final push to pursue what I actually wanted."

His story, essentially, is about a fall from issues of self-centeredness just to pendulum swing into ones of self-worth instead. It's about balancing on a tightrope of bringing short bursts of happiness to others while trying not to let his ego take hold of him again. It's about denying himself what he wants and refusing to hear otherwise before finally recognizing that he deserves to be happy.

That's Baxter Ward.

TL;DR:

Baxter starts as an egotistical child - encouraged by his rich parents and the kids constantly impressed by his showing off - but that changes when he obtains genuine friends and learns the value of real relationships.

Realizing that he'd relied only on what his parents had to make connections with people, Baxter doubts his own worth as a person and is unable to imagine that people would feel differently about him than he feels about himself.

Baxter falls out with his friends due to the age gap and not having time for each other, coming to the conclusion that he'd not done anything for them.

Under the belief that he has no inherent long-term value, Baxter goes on flings and seeks to create fun moments with people rather than anything that would require revealing more of himself than he feels is attractive to others; this has the side effect of making him highly critical of himself over even minor mistakes.

Baxter goes to Sunset Bird meets the MC, who (along with the MC's friends) makes him feel a sense that he might actually be someone important to others, which he then actively tries to convince himself out of due to fear of risks/the unknown.

After leaving the MC on no contact, Baxter continues to miss them, but feels like he would only bother them further if he saw them again even if it were just to apologize.

Baxter ends up seeing the MC again in his Step 4 and is confronted thusly by his unfading feelings. This leads him to try and maintain the distance he'd created in an attempt to protect himself, yet he's unable to keep himself from letting loose every now and then because it goes against what his heart wants to push the MC away.

Though horrified by the idea that what he'd done in the past might have been a mistake and preferring (at the start) to go on without knowing, Baxter ultimately reflects on his actions and acknowledges to himself why he's been doing what he's been doing, and that he doesn't want to let the MC go again without laying everything on the table.

[arcadia-smith]

TW: torture, abuse.

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5

Simon Riley x Reader

The Interpreter's prayer.

Part 6

Night surrendered to dawn, the inky sky slowly giving way to the soft hues of morning. You and Simon remained on the kitchen floor, the world beyond the window stirring to life while the quiet inside held steady—until his phone shattered the stillness with its insistent ringing.

Once. Twice.

Simon let it ring, his jaw tightening. But when the third call came, he exhaled sharply and pushed himself to his feet, disappearing into the living room as he finally answered.

The weight in his voice made it clear—this was business. His words were clipped, professional, until one phrase cut through the air like a blade:

"No. I’m not bringing her in. She’s done with this mission."

Your stomach tightened. Pushing yourself upright, you stepped into the living room. "Sim..." Your voice was soft, a quiet plea.

He shook his head, the tension in his shoulders unrelenting as he tossed the phone onto the couch.

"I need to go to the base," he murmured, then turned to you, hesitation flickering across his face. "You… you’ll be okay?"

You didn’t answer. Just stood there, watching him, waiting—because as much as you wanted nothing more to do with this mission, the need to know why still gnawed at you.

Simon sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “It’s Basma.”

The name struck like a match, setting fire to the silence between you.

He hesitated, then pressed on. “We’ve brought in so many interpreters… tried everything. But she won’t talk to anyone who’s… not you.”

A slow nod was all you could manage, a silent acknowledgment that you understood.

But understanding didn’t make it any easier.

Basma’s face surfaced in your mind, weary but kind. Then Noor’s—small and fragile, her wide eyes filled with something that had no place in a child’s gaze. And Nasir… He had you, but he had her, too.

And you didn’t know if she had been pulled from the wreckage the same way you had—or if she was still trapped in the clutches of the man who had destroyed so much.

Your pulse thundered, but your voice came out even when you finally spoke. “I can go.” The words felt heavier than they should have. “If she’ll talk to me… I’ll go.”

Even as every part of you screamed that you’d already sacrificed enough.

"You don’t have to," he murmured, softer than before. A quiet offering. One last chance to walk away.

You did have to.

"She asked for me." It was the only answer that mattered.

The ride to the base was quiet, the kind of silence that hummed with things unsaid. The city was fully awake now, sunlight creeping over rooftops, the early traffic a distant murmur. But none of it settled the weight sitting heavy on your chest.

You swallowed hard, gripping the fabric of your sleeve as your mind spiraled through every possibility.

Simon’s voice cut through the quiet. "I won’t leave you alone in there. You say the word, and we walk out."

You glanced at him, taking in the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands tightened on the wheel. He was worried. For you.

"I know." You noded.

The base was a maze of motion—soldiers moving with purpose, conversations clipped and efficient. But everything seemed distant, muffled by the rush of blood in your ears as you followed Simon down a dimly lit hallway.

At the end of it, a door stood slightly ajar.

Basma sat on a worn-out cot, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. She looked up at the sound of the door, her eyes darting past Simon, past the soldier standing by the wall—until they landed on you.

And then, finally, she breathed, Arabic filling the room "You came."

Her words were like poison on the air, a venomous thread that curled beneath your skin. They were the same words that had caused everything to unravel. If not for your understanding of that cursed language, you’d be back home by now, with your daughter, a semblance of yourself—unbroken, unscathed. But here you were, a shattered reflection, a mere echo of who you once were.

You exhaled, the weight of the moment heavy on your chest. "Lieutenant said you're not speaking to any—"

"My girl, Noor, my boy, Sayid." Her voice cracked, a trembling plea wrapped in desperation. "They won’t let me see my children."

You glanced over your shoulder at Simon, but he didn’t meet your eyes, instead letting his gaze fall to the floor—something unspoken passing between you both, a quiet understanding of what she had asked.

The questions burned, their answers just out of reach. You didn’t know where her children were, or if they were alive. Were they safe? Could you even begin to offer comfort when the truth seemed far darker than you could admit?

The words came, bitter and untrue, as you spoke them—lies told from one mother to another. "They’re fine, Basma. Safe and—"

Her interruption cut through you like a blade. "I’m not speaking until they are here with me."

You swallowed, the lump in your throat like stone. Nodding wordlessly, you turned and walked away, the silence in the air sharp as a wound.

Once you were far enough from the room, you let the breath you’d been holding slip out of you. "Where are the children, Lieutenant?"

For a moment, Simon’s steps faltered, just a brief moment, before he closed the distance between you, his voice low. "The boy’s in the medical wing. Injured after the bomb. The girl," he swallowed, his words thick with something unsaid, "We couldn’t find her."

The world felt like it had collapsed beneath your feet, an unbearable weight pressing against your chest. For Basma, for those children, for everything you’d failed to protect.

Your steps remained steady as you moved down the hallway, though the uncertainty gnawed at you, dragging you forward without direction. And then, the sound of a voice, sharp as a knife, pierced the air—Arabic words followed by screams that twisted through your body like a cruel ache. You turned, a cold breath escaping your lips.

Is that…?

You already knew the answer. You would never erase that voice from your mind, no matter how hard you tried.

Simon’s hand brushed against your back—tentative, unsure. "Let’s go," he said, the same tone he used with recruits, distant and calm, a shield against the chaos.

"Is that him?" Your voice was barely a whisper, but it broke the fragile silence between you.

You had thought he’d been dead—his body falling lifeless, in the darkness when Simon found you. But then, the realization hit, cold and sharp. Simon never missed. If he’d wanted him dead, he would’ve been.

Fear dissolved, burned away by the sudden rush of anger that surged through you like wildfire. Before Simon could stop you, before reason could catch up with your actions, your hands shoved the door open.

There he was—the monster.

Tied to a chair, head snapping sideways as Johnny’s fist collided with his jaw. The room reeked of sweat, of blood, of something far darker than interrogation. This wasn’t about getting answers. This was about pain. Retribution.

The bastard looked like a grotesque painting—bruises blooming in deep shades of purple and red, skin split open like a canvas torn apart.

"Love."

Simon’s voice was quiet, but his fingers around your wrist were firm, grounding. But something was off.

The gloves.

He’d been wearing them around you. Always. And Simon never did that.

Simon always had rough hands, the kind that spoke of war, of survival. But now the pieces slid into place like a lock clicking open. The gloves weren’t for you. They were for him—to hide the damage. You didn’t need to see them to know his knuckles were bruised, just like Johnny’s.

Your breath caught as you took in the rest of the room. The knives. The restraints. The cold metal gleam of the instruments that had once torn into your flesh. Every cruel reminder of the time you had spent in the darkness, at the mercy of the man before you.

Your pulse roared in your ears as you wrenched free from Simon’s grip, stepping forward.

The monster lifted his head, his swollen eyes locking onto yours.

And then he smirked.

That did it.

Everything happened too fast—your mind barely had time to catch up with your body. One second, your hands were empty. The next, fingers curled around the hilt of a knife from the table, metal cool against your palm.

You moved without hesitation.

The blade sank right between his legs, right into his shaft.

Once.

Twice.

A scream tore through the air, raw and jagged, but it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

[until-the-house-shakes]

Adoption Fight

Wolfstar raising Regulus / Werewolf! Regulus

-

Remus should have known this was going to happen. It’s only been a few months of him and Sirius taking care of Regulus, and each day ended in some terrible blow out- the brothers screaming at each other, doors slamming, and hatred easily being thrown about.

Why did he think this topic would be easy sailing?

For some brilliant reason, Sirius decided to legally get Regulus’ last name changed to mirror their own and get the adoption process started as well. The name changing process was easy enough seeing as Regulus’ parents legally gave up all parental rights of the werewolf, but they still needed a few signatures from the kid himself.

Getting his signature and trying to even discuss adoption was not going as easy as they hoped.

It started off as an easy conversation, asking if Regulus enjoyed living with them, and if he wanted to make his stay more permanent.

“Won’t maman have an issue with me staying here permanently? I thought this was just for the summer?” Regulus asked, looking through the papers his brother handed him. It looked innocent enough, but he wasn’t stupid. He read the words ‘adoption’ and ‘legal guardianship’. He knew what these two men are planning.

“We already talked to her. She thinks this is a better place for you to live.” Sirius lied. Regulus knew he was lying. He was awful at it.

“You’re lying. This isn’t what she wants. She’ll get mad and punish me! You know that.” The young werewolf was now on his feet, getting louder with each passing second.

One issue the married couple have yet to get a grasp on was the younger’s temper. He easily went from the sweetest kid anyone has met to meaner than both his parents combined. Remus should have known this would happen, as it was a very common symptom many werewolves dealt with, but adding in the ‘Black Madness’? He felt woefully unprepared.

“She won’t punish you, Regulus.” Sirius started, getting closer to his brother.

“How do you know? You know nothing! You haven’t been home in ye-“

“Because she fucking abandoned you! You left you! She made me and Remus take care of you because she couldn’t be bothered. She fucking hates you, told me herself.”

The world seemed to freeze once that comment left Sirius’ mouth. It was obvious to even an outside eye that the youngest Black was no longer ‘mama’s precious boy’ but to say she hated him? That she abandoned him and gave parental rights to his brother of all people?

And for what reason?

Because he was turned? Because one of their shitty friends made him a monster? That wasn’t even his fault, so why is he getting abandoned for it!

He could do better. He could be better. He could be the perfect son his maman was raising him to be, even with his stupid furry little problem.

“She doesn’t hate me.” Regulus mumbled, running straight to the kitchen. Looking for something to destroy. Something to get his anger out.

Glass plates.

Perfect.

“Hey, Reg. Let’s not do anything cr-“ Remus tried to calm the boy down, but to no avail. Before he could finish his statement, one of their wedding plates was thrown at the wall- effectively shattering it.

“I’m not fucking crazy!” Regulus screamed, throwing yet another plate. This time aiming for his lying brother.

“Regulus please stop! Being a Lupin isn’t a bad thing! I think it’s much better than being a Black.” Sirius flinched from his spot, much too scared to get closer to his brother- not wanting to make the situation any worse.

“I’m a Black. Not a fucking Lupin.” Regulus growled, throwing yet another plate at his brother, watching as it shattered.

Hearing and seeing all the tiny pieces of glass hit the floor, was the only comfort Regulus got during this conversation.

The only peace.

His mother hated him. His dad saw him as a monster. He was stuck with his brother who left when he was four, and another monster.

Regulus didn’t know what peace was. Until he saw the plate shatter against the wall.

-

The tantrum only lasted another two minutes until Remus was able to get his wand and move the plates far away from the angry ten year old.

“Alright, I think that’s enough. Go to your room, and calm down. Once you’re willing to talk calmly to us, we can resume this conversation.” Remus pointed at Regulus’ room, up the stairs. This was not the first time he had to intervene in an argument between the two brothers, and he was starting to get very sick of it.

He loved having Regulus live with them, but after watching this shit show and having his wedding plates- which were a family heirloom from his late ma- shattered all over his living room floor, Remus wasn’t too sure where he stood on the ‘adopting regulus’ matter.

“I fucking hate it here.” Regulus grumbled, stomping his way up the stairs and slamming his door shut.

The two men spared each other a fleeting look before starting to pick up the mess left by the youngest member of the house.

Sirius opened his mouth to say something, likely a pitiful excuse on why he lost his temper, but Remus was quick to raise his hand and shake his head, “not right now. I want to hear nothing from you.” It was clear the brunette was close to tears, and it broke Sirius’ heart.

Remus always had to deal with the brother’s bullshit, and now he was the only one negatively affected by one of their regular blowouts. Sirius looked at the pile of glass that surrounded their feet, and felt even worse once he realized that no amount of magic could fix the million pieces of glass. Nothing he did could bring the plates back to how they used to be.

Nothing could make Remus not mad at him.

-

Two hours later, Sirius was hunched over a pile of glass in his office. He tried every single spell he knew and nothing brought the plates back to their former glory. In a moment of weakness, Sirius thought about apperating to Wales to buy a set identical to the broken plates, but then remembered that it was a ‘one-of-a-kind’ set that Hope had received from her mother, who received it from her mother, who received it from her mother.. and that pattern seemed to never stop. Needless to say, the plates were irreplaceable and the last thing Remus received from his mother before she passed.

And now a majority of them were broken in a pile in front of Sirius.

What was he going to do?

Sirius’ self wallowing was cut short by a soft knock at the door.

“Come in.” He answered, hoping to see Remus walk in, but was instead greeted by a much smaller werewolf.

“Hey Reg, feeling any better?” Sirius asked, opening his arms for his little brother to take comfort. Yes, he was still very upset with the younger boy for reacting how he did, but he would never take away any comfort Regulus might seek out. He was not his parents, and would never act like them. No matter how mad he was. He was going to drill it in Regulus’ mind, that he was always safe and welcome in his arms.

“I’m sorry.” Regulus whispered, shoving his face in his older brother’s chest. Trying to hide from his mistakes.

“Do you really hate it here?” Sirius asked, petting the short black curls.

“I don’t. I promise. I… I was so upset. I was hurt that mom didn’t want me anymore and… it stung when you said she hated me. So I freaked out. I wanted to hurt you too. I’m sorry.”

Sirius sighed. Of course this traumatized kid was hurt and wanted to even the playing field out. It made sense. That’s exactly what Sirius used to do until he spent a few years with a mind healer and in a healthy relationship. When he was hurt he wanted others to hurt just like him or worse. Being hurt meant he was vulnerable, so if he made others vulnerable, he had nothing to worry about. It sucked that his poor baby brother had the same idea.

“I’m sorry too. I lost my temper and said things I should not have said. If it makes you feel any better, mother hates me too and disowned me long before she did you.” Sirius laughed, hoping it would make Regulus laugh as well.

It did not.

“I don’t hate you though. Neither does Remus. We love having you here, which is why we want to adopt you. We want you to legally be our kid, our family. That’s why we want you to share our last name. To really seal the deal.”

Regulus looked at his older brother with wide eyes. Was he being honest? Did he really want Regulus to be a part of his family? For the last two months, all Regulus did was cause fights, scream at Sirius, insult Remus, and make everyone’s life difficult. His own birth parents didn’t want him. So why did his brother want him?

What was so special about him?

“You promise you actually want me?” Regulus whispered. Too scared to speak any louder. Too scared to burst this bubble of safety his brother carefully created.

“I pinky promise Mon Ètoile. I want you here more than anything.”

The small promise filled Regulus with such a warm feeling. Much warmer than any feelings his maman could make him feel. It was almost too much.

Actually. It was too much.

Far too much emotion.

Like he couldn’t control it at all. He couldn’t hold it in. All his emotions had to escape. It had to leave his heart and mind and become physical.

It was terrifying, and hurt just a little bit.

But then in a flash. It was over. His emotions felt normal yet again.

Odd.

“What just happened?” Regulus asked, looking around the room as if one of the inanimate objects would answer him.

“I think you had some accidental magic happen, Reg. Nothing to worry about! You were feeling some big emotions and they had to come out. No big… no fucking way.” Sirius cut himself off, looking at some plates on the desk next to him.

Wait. Those were the plates Regulus broke. Or at least, he thought he broke them.

“Did I just fix the plates?” Regulus asked, awestruck at what he just did.

“I think you did mon ètoile. Why don’t you go grab Remus and bring him here so he can see? I’m sure he’ll be very happy.” Sirius smiled, ushering his brother out of the room to grab his other guardian.

In the few minutes he had by himself, Sirius tried to wrap his head around what just happened. He spent two hours trying to fix these plates and had no luck, but his brother managed to fix them with a rush of accidental magic?

It made no sense.

Oh well. It didn’t really matter as long as they stayed fixed.

-

Later that night, the three boys were all cuddled together on the couch, watching a muggle movie on a ‘telly’ as Remus called it. Regulus really liked all the muggle inventions Remus showed him. They were always so interesting!

“… Can I still change my name?” Regulus asked once there was a pause in the movie. The two adults haven’t said anything else about the adoption or his last name changing since he apologized for his outburst, and he was worried that they were going to take back their offer.

He didn’t want them to take away their offer. He wanted to be a Lupin. He wanted to be wanted by someone.

“Of course you can, cub. We can continue the process tomorrow, but I can’t promise it will happen anytime soon. Stuff like this tends to take a while.” Remus answered, bringing Regulus closer to his side. It warmed the older werewolf’s heart to know the kid genuinely wanted to be a part of their family, even if they fought.

“I would love nothing more than to share my last name with you again, mon ètoile.” Sirius ruffled his brother's hair, laughing as the younger complained about it.

Sirius looked over at his husband cuddling with his brother, and felt his heart swell. Sure, these past two months haven’t been an easy adjustment with Regulus living with them, but they’re making it work, and soon they’ll legally be a family of their own.

A happy little family

Hopefully.