#but it would have been nice if this was a dialogue option

[lizzybeeee]

DATV Spoilers - The Handling of Previous Story/Lore In DATV

Quick PSA: If you’ve read my post on the lore/story threads dropped – it’s not a list of what I expected or even wanted to see addressed/answered in DATV.

It’s pretty much a given that Kieran and the Architect were never going to come back in any meaningful way, I understand that. Questions about what happened to Anora, Anders, Cullen’s clinic etc...never expected to get an answer about them – at all. The line of succession in Ferelden and Orlais? I expected that sometime down the line it would have to be streamlined into one option for both nations, not a problem – there’s so many choices it’s impossible to account for, and I understand that.

A codex entry or letter would have been nice – but my expectations for DATV was solely for a good story that added to the lore and world of Thedas. Instead, it felt entirely reductive – glaringly so when you account for the ‘Executives’ twist. The slavery in Tevinter is non-existent, the Crows being an organization that indoctrinated children is never touched upon, any mystery of ancient Tevinter and the elves is answered (badly!), the Dalish have effectively disappeared and become the Veil Jumpers...it all feels so hollow, so shallow, that I ever cared about these things in the first place.

There’s no DLC planned – the team is working on Mass Effect 5 now. There’s no conclusion to the fate of the south of Thedas outside of two codex entries and some dialogue. They can patch the Executors cutscene out, maybe - perhaps they could even do the same to anything relating to the south of Thedas. Yes, these areas were not completely destroyed by the Blight – they can rebuild – but it comes across as being so meaningless that I ever cared for these places in the first place. To learn that after ten years of waiting all we cared for get devastated and left in limbo...it’s hard to put into words the bitterness I felt at that realization, and seeing that final cut-scene drove the nail into the coffin of how foolish I felt for even caring in the first place.

The issue is that the dev’s gave us only three choices, told us that as the story was contained to the north of Thedas – that our other choices weren’t relevant to the rest of the game – that their intent was to not effect anyone's head-canons...before doing so with ‘the blight has devastated most of everywhere you went previously’.

These were story/plot threads that were woven throughout the narrative of the first three games – the things that made me care and become invested in the world of Thedas to begin with. In a game that was set-up to be a direct sequel to Inquisition and Trespasser I hoped that, at least, what was brought up in Inquisition would be mentioned.

Perhaps my list is a little too detailed with plot threads and issues – if anything that can be attributed to the incredible world-building done in the first three games! I love those games, I love the world of Thedas...which is why this game utterly baffles me with its choices.

Dragon Age: The Veilguard is a good game but not a good Dragon Age game.

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

Edit: DATV absolutely has a lot of problems outside of its handling of the lore and story of the previous games. I would not say its a good rpg in any sense, but as a weird 'action-adventure rpg lite' game I did have some fun moments and enjoy myself. Would I recommend it to anyone? Absolutely not.

I heard someone describe it as a 'junk food' game and I very much agree with that statement. I found enjoyment in it, but to do so I usually had to turn off my brain, which is not a compliment towards DATV.

The game released very well optimized (especially considering how most companies are content to release half-baked games and patch them later) and did create some really interesting visual set-pieces like the Battle of Weisshaupt. But those moments I enjoyed were few and far between, and far overwhelmed by the negatives of the game - such as story, lack of conversation/conflict/role-play options, bad character writing etc...

Calling the game 'good' is, perhaps, a stretch, and I totally get that. Calling it 'mediocre with some good parts' may be more accurate.

[kleiner-ghost]

What of Kenny's and Bounty Hunter's conversation didn't get interrupted at the space Applebee's?

2nd person POV, spoilers ahead.

"So-so I killed them all. I -" Kenny rambled on.

"Listen." You interrupted, as you put your hand over his head, trying to reassure him. Well, you tried at least, but Kenny flinched away, avoiding eye contact. "Listen," you continued, "you say this is all your fault, that you're this horrible person for killing all your people-"

"Yes, t-that's exactly what I've been saying. If not for m-me, my people would still be alive, I would still have a home!"

You sat back in your chair, arms crossed over your chest. You'd thought that his rant was over earlier, but evidentially de still had some stuff to get off his chest.

"From where I stand, Garmantuous was the one to do all the killing. How many of your people did you kill?"

"All of them!"

"That was a rhetorical question." You snapped. Kenny made a small scoop backwards and shut up. "Zero. You, personally, didn't fire that canon of yours at any of your own."

"A-actually,"

You shook a finger in front of his face, hushing him again.

"And how many G3's have you killed? After how many dozens have you stopped counting? Kenny, I'm not saying you're a good guy, don't give me that face, but you gotta put things into perspective-"

The loud sound of a space RV dashing past the space Applebee's, and almost running someone over briefly snapped your attention towards the window.

"T-then, what are you you saying?" Kenny, clearly unbothered by traffic violations asked.

"That you fucked up. You were young and impressionable, and Garmantuous took advantage of that, and you fucked up, sure, but you tried to make it better."

"Wow, it took nothing at all to p-paint me as a hero in all t-this. M-maybe the others will be as stupid, I mean open minded, as you." Kenny muttered.

You weren't sure if that was sarcasm, or genuine thoughts, but you took offence to it none the less.

"If you wanna souse in your self-pity-guilt sandwich, then be my guest. But we've killed hundreds of people in these past what, 3 days?" You weren't sure how long you'd been a bounty hunter for, with the warps and all the days did blend in together, but you were sure it'd been less than a week, "Some of them even had names." You added for dramatic purposes.

You couldn't remember what any of the bounties outside of Dr. Joopy were called, but your point still stood. Judging by Kenny's expression, it was coming across too.

"Those those were G3's. T'thats not the same."

"Yeah, because you actually killed them." You pooed his forehead. "Unlike the Gatlians who were killed by orange shitface."

Kenny looked away for a second, collecting his thoughts.

"Y-you're right." He eventually conceeded. "But I don't think the others will see it like that."

"Burning crossed bridges and all that," you shrugged.

"What?"

"It's an Earth expression. Now let's go before the wrighters comes back and makes me eat this, urgh," you gave the shrimp quessadilla a dirty side glance, "or worse, makes us pay for it."

"Yeah! Let's go. And and if he comes after us, you can fire my glob shot at them!"

"Sure..."

This was another conversation that you needed to have with him, but you decided to save it for another day, as you dashed, without dining, out of the Applebee's.

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

my 1 (one) stardew opinion is shane should not have won the bachelor poll

[sexybritishllama]

in further neopets discord news, oh boy is there drama in my awful virtual pet game website today. strap in if you want way too much information on neopets’ broken economy

for some context, an event has just launched called the faerie festival. this is the first event to be run by the ‘new’ TNT (aka. the neopets team aka. the staff) since the leadership change, and they've said in recent editorials that this year’s faerie festival is going to be a combo of two previous popular events:

the faerie quest event, wherein people can get a free quest from a faerie every day in exchange for a reward (something that’s normally limited to random special events and therefore quite rare)

the charity corner, a highly requested event that hasn’t run since 2020, where you can donate random items to get points that can then be exchanged in a prize shop

there’s a LOT of ultimately worthless items on neopets that people gather from doing dailies and things, but charity corner actually gave a use to hoarding all of these, so people have wanted it back for ages. people have been going out of their way to hoard extra junk items for like 2 months now, after TNT teased the event in an editorial

this event was originally meant to start on 20th august, but got delayed 2 weeks, presumably because of issues behind the scenes. people were generally a bit disappointed but relieved if this meant they were going to get a proper, well prepared event without bugs

flash forward to 2nd october, the actual start of the event. nothing actually opens up for several hours on the day- that’s somewhat waved off by the fact that staff presumably need to be in the office to launch everything, a midnight launch isn’t expected

but, eventually, it opens!

well… kinda. there’s one page with one dialogue scene available and a link to an event page for spending neocash (the premium currency that costs irl money). the faerie quest page is giving out free daily quests, which is nice, but literally just the same as they did back in 2020. where’s the item recycling part? did this really need 2 weeks of delay?

the next day, the FAQ page for the event is published neopets support site (but not announced via news). still no sign of the actual event starting- seems like that might not be until moday?

as well as multiple grammatical errors, the FAQ had a few… concerning elements. most notably:

only 10 items could be donated per day

points would be awarded based on the rarity of the item, with the maximum rarity being r200-500, worth 15 points each

this meant people's hoarding of junk items for months was... essentially useless

r200-500 items basically means either hidden tower items (rare, expensive items that can only be bought in an account age locked shop with a purchase limit of 1 per day) orrrr….. neocash items. In other words, players could either spend an exorbinate amount of their in-game currency to buy up items to donate, or they could just hand over their credit card and pay to win

people were Not Happy about this

not long after info spread and the outcry started (and a sizeable number of people cancelled their premium membership in protest), the FAQ was quietly updated to remove mention of donating neocash items. that took away to pay to win element at least

however, now there was a new problem. a tombola man problem.

i mentioned already that the highest rarity items are pretty rare and expensive. one of the least expensive of these is an item called the Squeezy Tombola Guy Toy. you can probably see where this is going already

because you can only buy a maximum of one tombola guy per day from the hidden tower, your only option if you want to buy more than that in a day is to go to user shops. however, in light of the event, people had already started buying and hoarding tombola guy toys. equally, others were buying them purely to sell at a profit. this made the perfect storm and caused the price of the tombola guy toy, which was normally 110k NP, to explode up to 500k, 600k, even 700k within just one day

BUT THEN THE FAQ GOT UPDATED AGAIN. surprise, you can now donate 30 items per day! also they just got rid of the highest rarity tier altogether. the maximum you can get for an item is now 8 points, for rarity r102-r179.

this has now made the squeezy tombola guy toys useless. unless you’re a collector they don’t serve any function beyond that of a normal neopets toy (of which there’s thousands of much cheaper options). the price has now plummeted down to BELOW what it originally was and many users now have piles and piles of the dolls sitting in their inventory, mocking them

so what now? well, because no one ever learns, everyone is now flocking to what is now the cheapest high-rarity item eligible for donation. most are going for omelettes, which have a few different options at r102+. these have also inflated by like 400% from before the event, but unlike the squeeze tombola guys, these are only worth a few thousand neopoints, so not as bad a potential loss in comparison

it’s worth noting that while all this is going on in preparation for the recycling event, neopets is also experiencing insane inflation in a lot of other items right now, including those required for people to complete faerie quests. for example, a Griefer, which cost 5000 np just last week, is now worth selling for 1 MILLION

So yeah. 3 days into the event and that’s where we are so far. who knows what tomorrow might bring

[fairsweetlonging]

system wardrobe malfunctions and small scenario pushers: exteme edition au

after his qi deviation, shen qingqiu starts working on slowly building up relations with his fellow peak lords and disciples; saving liu qingge in the caves, spoiling luo binghe rotten, freely praising his students, inviting the sect leader over for tea, he's a whole new person!

and yet... his friendliness levels aren't going up.

he knows it's a bit icky to judge his relations with other people based on numbers an alien entity is giving him, but he needs them to survive, and he swears that once he's above a certain threshold (somewhere between "civil" and "friendly", he figures), he will mute every and all notifications regarding it.

but they're just not going up. since his deviation he's at least managed to claw his way from "hostile" to "tolerant" with most of them, but some are somehow still stuck in the "aloof" section! they wouldn't even care if he died!

he just doesn't know what he's doing wrong; he understands these things take time, but it feels so bad when people refuse to sit next to him or sigh when they're assigned a mission with him, especially since it's not his fault.

now, it so happens that, one day, the system hears his woes and takes pity on him.

【 user seems to experience difficulty increasing character favor levels 】

you could say that

【 would host like to utilize our special deluxe package to activate 'The Path of Blossoming Hearts and Unspoken Affections' free of charge? ₊˚⊹♡ 】

though shen qingqiu isn't trustful of the system's antics, he can't deny that so far they have helped him well enough, and since it's free of charge with no penalties, wouldn't it be a waste not to use it? the title is a bit dubious, but was the original shen qingqiu not known for his frozen heart? for never sparing a single nice word to anyone? this could be his chance to let it blossom without the system nagging on his characterization.

【 accept optional mission? [yes]/[no] 】

he picks [yes].

two weeks later, he wishes he hadn't.

the package is devided into small scenarios that mostly appear at random, ranging from small dialogue challenges where he has to pick the right option (he really doesn't like those, the dehumanization of it makes his skin crawl), to the equivalent of two rivals getting locked in a room together.

the first few scenarios are minor and not very impactful, to the point where he's finished three of them and his favor count with qi qingqi has increased a whopping +2 (still "aloof") and that of wei qingwei +5 (still "tolerant").

his fourth scenario, however, reminds him of exactly why he should never accept gifts from strange screens floating in the sky.

he's on a nighthunt with liu qingge to slay a mirebeast that's been terrorizing travelers—an amphibious creature with thick, slimy skin, a crocodile tail and a leech-like mouth that shoots mucus when threatened... and shooting mucus it did.

while his clothes can easily be cleaned with a cleaning talisman, he never feels truly clean himself unless he actually bathes. luckily, there's a beautiful, glass-like pond nearby that's surrounded by natural demonic-repellent vegetation, a win! he's just draped his clothes over a nearby branch and submerged himself in the water, when the system rings out.

【 heads up! small scenario "Stolen Silks and Sunlit Waters" is about to begin! penalty: none. wishing user good luck (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) 】

hold up—stolen what.

stolen silks. his silks. stolen by a mossy-jade stag that happens to scratch its huge antles on the exact tree he hung his clothes on, which rattles the branch and causes his robes to fall exactly onto its head, spooking it into a gallop as it disappears into the forest.

how. how does that even happen.

shen qingqiu is just about to get out of the water when of course liu qingge chooses that exact moment to stomp into the glade looking for him, even though he should have been miles away to the village to ensure the people the beast is dead.

for anyone looking in from the outside, it's not a bad picture: shen qingqiu, with his hair pulled up and away from his slender neck, submerged to his (very bare!) pale shoulders in golden sunlit waters, surrounded by lotus flowers and lily pads. to liu qingge, this must be a terrible view, apparently—shen qingqiu can think of no other reason that would cause his face to flush so bright red.

liu qingge tosses his outer robe on the grass between them and turns resolutely around. it's only a bit insulting—is shen qingqiu not pretty enough to try and sneak a look at? even just a glimpse? meanwhile liu qingge is trying really hard to mentally recite the ethics sutra to not fixate on the sound of shen qingqiu getting out of the water (naked!!) or the rustle of fabrics as he wraps liu qingge's robe around his (naked!!!!) body. when liu qingge turns around he flushes an even darker shade as he sees shen qingqiu's bare legs and feet sticking out from under the robes.

"thanking shidi," says shen qingqiu, who notices none of this, as he pulls the robe a little closer around him, "for coming to this one's untimely rescue."

liu qingge grunts, turns, and walks away.

【 congratulations! liu qingge's favor increased. character satisfaction points +50. please continue to work hard! 】

shut up

【 ૮(˶╥︿╥)ა 】

they return to the sect victorious, but very embarrassed. the mirebeast gets all the blame. where his clothes are? well—uh, gone. the mucus dissolved them. yes he knows that's not how mucus works but it did this time okay?!!

yue qingyuan acts a bit strange seeing shen qingqiu wearing liu qingge's outer robes. he almost qi deviates when he finds out his shidi is wearing absolutely nothing under it. it's all very dramatic. apparently the sect is made up of people who shower with their clothes on or something.

【 ⁺‧₊˚bonus scenario!!˚₊‧⁺˖ interactive dialog quest: pick the best suited options to win additional favor points! 】

i don't like where this is going

"shidi?" yue qingyuan asks, looking at him with those big worried puppy eyes.

【 choice A: (demure) this shidi is cold. will you not invite me in at least?

choice B: what are you looking at?! mind your own business stupid old man!

choice C: i'm in love with liu qingge 】

WHAT

if he was drinking tea he would have spat it out, and then coughed himself to death. what the hell kind of options are these!!

【 system has based these options on what will earn (or lose!) user the most points. please pick one. 】

[ admin notes: option A will earn +60 points. option B will neither increase nor decrease points. option C will decrease -100 satisfaction points and increase +200 heartbreak points ]

shen qingqiu silently curses the system. option B is way out of line, even for the original shen qingqiu, who probably would insult yue qingyuan, but not with so little class. he doesn't even consider option C an actual option. and, well, he is cold. and wet. and almost naked. he would like a warm bath and some clothes. A it is then.

he doesn't like the way yue qingyuan's face light up when he grits out the dialog.

【 congratulations! yue qingyuan's favor increased. character satisfaction points +60! keep up the good work! 】

he can't keep doing this much longer.

unfortunately, he does have to keep doing this for much longer.

he's just about to go to bed when someone knocks on the door. luo binghe is already sleeping so he goes himself. just as he's about to open the door the system rings out—but it's too late.

shen yuan is used to wearing old tshirts to bed and no pants (he hates the feeling of his legs being restricted while he sleeps), so he doesn't really care when the only equivalent of this in pidw is a silk nightgown. his mother wore them, his sister wore them. hell, one of his brothers once bought one for fun and ended up using it for months. it's florally embroidered with puffy sleeves and reaches to his knees, that's decent enough, right?

【 heads up! small scenario "Dreamy Encounters at Dusk" is about to begin! good luck! 】

he has no idea what that's supposed to mean and he doesn't care. he opens the door, and it's mu qingfang. not... that unusual, but still.

"can this master help you?"

it takes mu qingfang a moment to remember what he's here for, it seems, because he stares at shen qingqiu for a good few seconds before raising an eyebrow like he's caught him doing something wrong.

"does shen-shixiong always answer the door like this?"

shen qingqiu glares back. "only when unsolicited guests come stumbling around my porch in the middle of the night."

"fair enough."

apparently he's here on behalf of yue qingyuan, who had asked him to do a post mission check up as soon as he was available, which is now. which yue qingyuan had apparently forgotten to relay to shen qingqiu himself. awesome.

he invites mu qingfang in (he can hardly close the door on him, it's late for him too!), and sits through the usual poking and prodding.

the system is prodding, too.

【 would user like some advice on how to maximize point earning? 】

no

【 ( •̯́ ^ •̯̀) system is only trying to help!! 】

i really don't need your help with this, thanks. i can keep a conversation on my own.

【 optional system booster: not mandatory. user may choose to decline this quest.

option 1: this one appreciates your care. the hardship is... unexpected. (look away shyly). i find it difficult to accept help sometimes, even when i need it.

option 2: i'm in love with you.

option 3: stand up and pretend to faint into his arms 】

shen qingqiu is about to spit blood—what the HELL is this!!! why do all your options make you look bipolar HUH??? and what's this about professing my love to people?!! why is that always an option??! this isn't a dating simulator, stupid system, they'll think i'm crazy!

【 all these options result in an increase of character satisfaction points (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) 】

HOW

【 (ó﹏ò｡) user seems misinformed about character preferences. [mu qingfang] likes to take care of people! 】

... i decline the quest. booster. whatever. i'll figure it out myself. and stop talking about him like he's some one dimensional character!

they hear stumbling coming from the little side room, then the creaking of floorboards. binghe peeks through the door, hair sleep-ruffled and his robes pulled on over his sleeping clothes.

"shizun?" he asks, worried, "what's wrong? why is mu-shishu here?"

【 ⁺‧₊˚bonus scenario!!˚₊‧⁺˖ interactive dialog quest: pick the best suited options to win additional favor points! 】

oh god, not again.

【 option A: (gently) nothing is wrong, binghe. this master is alright. go back to sleep.

option B: (gently) nothing is wrong, binghe. this master is alright. (invite him to sit next to you during the examination)

option C: (gently) nothing is wrong, binghe. this master is alright. mu-shidi is just keeping me company tonight. 】

huh. so you can give meaningful options that i would actually consider picking?

【 ◝(ᵔᵕᵔ)◜ 】

[admin notes: option A will decrease -100 points for luo binghe. option B will increase +20 points for luo binghe. option C will decrease -300 points for luo binghe, and increase +20 points for mu qingfang. option A & C increase luo binghe jealousy levels with 400 points].

[hayleythesugarbowl]

hey girlyyyyy could you maybe write for Tim Bradford from the rookie and like the reader is his rookie and while they’re on patrol they run into someone who knows the reader’s abusive ex bf and he makes threats against reader and after their shift reader is super scared so he escorts them home and stays with them idk just an idea 😅

Nightlight || Tim Bradford x reader

⋆ ˚｡��୨୧˚ masterlist • john nolan fic  ⋆˚｡⋆୨୧⋆

summary: when you encounter a man while on patrol who has a threatening message from your ex, your TO, Tim, offers to spend the night with you

word count: 10.4k

warnings: abusive past relationship, reader kind of has a panic attack, mild language, blood, guns, inaccurate police stuff

a/n: ahhh i had so much fun writing this, love!! i took your idea and also added some stuff so i hope you like what i did. i also apologize for the length, i kinda went wild. i imagine this to take place in s1. fem!reader. enjoy!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     “7-Adam-19, armed shoplifter, Radcliffe Complex, 718 Oscar Road. Respond.”

     The dispatcher’s voice filled the silence of the car.

     “7-Adam-19 responding.” Officer  Bradford set down the radio and replaced his hand on the steering wheel.

     “What’s the most important thing to remember when dealing with an armed shoplifter, Boot?” Tim asked you after a moment. 

     “Why did I think that when I was in short-sleeves I would get a break from your Tim Tests?” you muttered.  

     You’d been Bradford’s rookie for seven months now and some days he still treated you like it was your first day on the force. You appreciated him trying to teach you so thoroughly, but did he have to be so Tim all the time?

     “Is that your answer, Boot?” 

     “No, um, I guess it would be that he’s armed. But no, that’s too obvious for you. Ok, what about what they’re stealing? Their physical state? Keeping their hands in sight at all times?”

     Tim sighed, looking bored. “Wrong. It’s—”

     “Suspect on the move, heading east on Apple Boulevard,” came the dispatcher’s update, interrupting your TO’s answer.

     “Looks like we’re headed east,” Tim said, turning sharply in the direction you’d just come from. 

     “Saved by the suspect,” you joked. 

     “Don’t think this is over,” Tim narrowed his eyes at the road. “Lessons don’t stop for crime.”

     “Ok, batman.”

     Tim glared at you.

     “I mean, Sir.”

     After you’d first been assigned to Officer Bradford, you’d been told stories of his ruthless training style. Your first thought was that you needed to impress him from day one.

     Well, technically your first thought was damn, because you’d have to be insane not to notice how objectively attractive he was. But you’d quickly quelled that thought—crushing on your TO was not how you wanted to start your career as an officer. 

     So, impressing him was your second thought. And you had been more than a little terrified of not impressing him. 

     You would be lying if you said that wasn’t how things still were between you two, to a degree—you trying to prove yourself and him making it as difficult as possible. 

     But, at least after several months, you felt like your TO trusted you more. 

     “There!” You pointed to a man running down the street, duffel bag in hand.

     Tim hit the gas, surpassing the suspect, and skidding to a stop in front of him, effectively cutting him off. 

     You both hurried out of the car, weapons drawn on the man who was currently aiming his gun back and forth, between you and Bradford. 

     “Police! Drop your weapon!” Tim shouted at the man. 

     The man hesitated, seeming to be weighing his options—how easily he could take out two cops. 

     “Set the weapon down, nice and easy,” Tim ordered, his own gun still pointed at the suspect.”

     The man, seeming to sense the inevitability of his capture, sighed and set his gun on the ground. 

     “The answer was dialogue, by the way,” Tim addressed you, his eyes still on the suspect. “Dialogue is the most important  thing when dealing with an armed suspect.”

     “Good to know,” you acknowledged, before ordering the man in front of you. “Hands behind your head, interlace your fingers.”

     The man’s gaze shot to you as he obeyed your commands. 

     “Hey, lady cop, you look familiar,” the criminal squinted at you. 

     “You must have me mistaken for someone else,” you said. You’d never seen this man in your life. 

     “I swear—”

     “Hands on the car!” You ordered 

     The man reluctantly did what he was told, placing his palms on the side of the shop. 

      “Wait a minute,” the man sized you up before smirking slowly. “Your Paul Cranston’s girl, ain’t ya?”

     You felt your blood instantly run cold at the name. 

     “You must have me mistaken for someone else,” you said again, robotically, grabbing one of his arms. 

     “No, no I’d recognize that pretty face anywhere,” the criminal whispered. “He told me all about you. Hey, why don’t you let me go and I’ll give you a friendly tip?”

     You responded by twisting his arm behind his back even harder.

     He winced. “So you didn’t hear then? Paul’s out.”

     No. That couldn’t be true. Paul wasn’t supposed to be out for—

     “Boot, you going to cuff him or not?” Tim called impatiently.

     “Right.” You shook off the stupor and began handcuffing the suspect. Your mind was still on that name, however, and your reflexes were slowed.

     Which is how the suspect was able to rip his arm from your grip and shove you to the ground as he tried to make a break for it. 

     Tim tackled him almost immediately, wrestling him into the cuffs that were dangling on one of his wrists where you had started to restrain him, and pushing him towards the shop.

     “Wait, Paul’s got a message for you!” the man hurried out, looking only at you as Tim waked over and shoved him into the backseat. “He said you best watch yourself, because he has connections, and he still hasn’t gotten his revenge. He’s out—and he’s coming for you.”

     “That’s enough, get in the car.” Tim slammed the door shut, and the echo of it rang in your ears as the man’s words played over and over again.

     He’s out, and he’s coming for you. 

     “What the hell was that?” 

     You looked up to Bradford’s questioning—and furious—face. He offered you a hand and you took it, standing up to face him. 

     “Sorry, I—”

     “‘Sorry’ doesn’t stop criminals from escaping,” Tim shouted. “Get your head in the game. You do want to be a cop, don’t you, Boot?”

     “Yes, sir.”

     So much for Tim trusting you. You couldn’t believe you’d almost just let a suspect get away. That had never happened to you before. But, that name—

     Your TO shook his head, walking to the drivers side and opening the door. “You know, I should write you up for that.”

     You noticed his wording. “But you’re not going to?”

     He waited for you to get into the passenger seat before saying, 

     “I didn’t say that. First you’re going to tell me what just happened between you two.”

     You flinched. “It—nothing. It was nothing.”

     “Uh-huh. It didn’t sound like nothing. Who’s Paul Cranston?” 

     You swallowed hard. “He’s just someone I used to know.”

      A million images flashed through your head. Paul’s face looming over you. The flashing lights and sirens. Waking up in the hospital. 

     You shook yourself out of it. You didn’t want to talk about this now. You swore you’d never talk about it again. “Shouldn’t—shouldn’t we get back to the station. Don’t we have to book this guy?”

     Tim sighed, started the car, and re-entered traffic. You breathed a sigh of relief. 

     “Control, this is 7-Adam-19. I need an ID on a Paul Cranston,” Tim spoke into his radio. 

     And so much for not talking about this now.

     “Can you do that without suspicion of a crime?” You asked him.

     “You can when dispatch loves you.” He winked at you. 

     You rolled your eyes at him as the radio began speaking. 

     “Paul Cranston: caucasian male, date of birth 8/4/92, recently released on parole, history of theft and domestic violence.” 

     Tim turned his gaze to you. “How do you know this man, Boot?”

     “It’s—a long story,” you told him. 

     “Well then you better start talking if you want to finish before we reach the station,” Tim commanded, making a left turn.

     “Can’t you just let it go?” You asked him. “It’s really not that big of a deal.”

      He’s out, and he’s coming for you. 

     You couldn’t fight the shiver that racked your body. 

      Tim’s eyes flicked to you, before returning back to the road. Suddenly, he slammed on the brakes, shifting the car into park before turning to you. 

     “If this is another one of your ‘I’m dying, where are we’ tests—”

     “Boot, focus,” Tim barked. 

     “With all due respect, sir, I don’t think it’s really any of your concern if—”

     “Of course it’s my concern!” Tim shouted. His expression was so intense, you squirmed under his gaze and you felt your face heat. 

     He looked torn for a moment, before sighing and saying, “It’s my job as your TO to train you to the best of my abilities, and I can’t do that if you’re withholding information that may affect your performance as an officer.”

     “Fine,” you breathed. “It was a long time ago. I was 18, Paul and I met freshman year of college. We started dating and things were fine, good even, for a while.”

     “Until?” Tim prompted.

     “Until he got pissed one night because I caught him coming home really late with a ski mask and a bag full of stolen cash. Cliche, right?”

     You looked to Tim, but his expression was as stony as ever and you continued.

     “Apparently, he’d been stealing since high school and turns out he’d lied to me about working in retail and a whole bunch of other stuff. I threatened to call the police if he didn’t stop and—”

     You took a deep breath, steeling yourself.

You watched the houses and trees and cars pass by as you drove towards the station. 

     “—and he hit me. It didn't stop after that—once he knew he could get away with it. He said if I ever told anyone—about the robberies, the beatings—that he’d kill me. And I let him go on like that for months. I was so scared that if I called anyone, he’d make good on his promise.”

     Tim’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, his fingers turning white, but he didn’t speak.

     “But then, one night, it got so bad that I thought he might actually kill me anyway. So I waited until he left the room for a minute and I called 911. He was arrested and—and that’s all I remember before I blacked out. I woke up in the hospital the next morning.”

     You kept your voice even, trying not to let the emotion show through your story. You were just recounting facts. This was almost 10 years ago, and you’d moved on with your life. 

     But reliving it all was hard, even after so much time had passed. 

     “It’s actually why I joined the academy,” you finished. “I wanted to save people, the way the officers that night did for me.”

     You were both silent for a moment. 

     A muscle in Tim’s jaw ticked. “Does the department know?”

     “Yeah,” you sighed. “It’s all part of my file.”

     “And the guy back there?” 

     You shrugged, glancing back at the suspect and lowering your voice. “He must be one of Paul’s partners or goons or—I don’t know. I guess he’s been in contact with him since he was released, if he knows what I look like.”

     The thought made your skin crawl. 

     “I don’t know what came over me,” you kept going. “It’s been years, I just—I didn’t expect to hear about him out of the blue from a criminal on the street, you know? But, I promise it won’t happen again.”

     Tim ignored that. “Do you think it was an empty threat?”

     “I don’t know,” you admitted. “But I sure as hell hope so.”

     Bradford was silent for a long moment, his expression tense.

     The radio crackled to life. “7-Adam-19, we have a 215 in progress near your area, 239 West Armston Street. Respond.” 

     “Negative,” Bradford answered the dispatch call. 

     You stared at him, shocked. “Why aren’t we taking that? We can drop this guy off afterwards.”

     “Yeah, I agree,” the suspect chimed in from the backseat. “I think you should take that first.”

      Tim payed him no attention. “They’ll have someone else over there in minutes. We have more important things to do.”

     “You’re not even going to ask me if I know what a 215 is?” You joked. Tim never passed up an opportunity to quiz you. 

     “What’s a 215, Boot?” 

     “Carjacking.”

     “Correct.” Tim nodded. “And we’re going to have a talk with Sergeant Grey.”

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

    “Paul Cranston, released on parole from a thirteen year sentence three days ago, currently believed to be residing in the Woodland Hills area.”

     You sat in the briefing room, surrounded by other officers, as Sergeant Grey read out your ex-boyfriend’s file. You stared into Paul’s face on the screen, his mugshot visible from all angles. 

     Bradford stood near the front of the room, leaning against the wall. 

      “The department is aware of Officer (Y/l/n)’s history with Mr. Cranston,” Grey continued. “And will take necessary action should the situation progress.”

      “So, what’s the course of action here?” Tim crossed his arms. 

     “I’m afraid, as of now, there isn’t one,” Grey said. “Since there is no direct proof against Paul Cranston, we’d essentially be taking the word of a petty thief and wasting resources on what most likely was a desperate attempt to escape arrest. The department doesn’t exactly consider it a threat.”

    “Doesn’t consider it a threat?” Tim’s voice was low and dangerous. “How about a charge for threatening an officer?”

    “But Paul didn’t threaten an officer,” you sighed, thinking. “The armed robbery suspect did.”

     “Exactly, Officer (Y/l/n),” Grey agreed. “Basically, our hands are tied.”

     “Then untie them,” Bradford snapped, beginning to pace. “There’s gotta be some technicality we can get him on. Violation of parole, conspiring with a felon, failure to—”

     “That’s enough, Officer Bradford,” The sergeant fixed your TO with a firm look. “I appreciate your concern for (Y/l/n)’s safety, but we’ve done all we can do. And, for now, that’s nothing.”

      Tim’s concern for your safety. That thought had been in the back of your mind since the ride to the station. You couldn’t figure out why Tim was so determined about this. You supposed you were his rookie and was his job to look out for you. It was just, up until now, he hadn’t exactly done anything to make you believe he’d care so much.

     “Failure to take action could be endangering one of our officers,” Tim said, his jaw clenched. “Who’s to say this guy won’t make good on his threat? At least increase security at (Y/l/n)’s residence.”

     “Tim, its fine,” you said, your voice firm. “Let it go.” 

     They were making a big enough deal about this already. It probably was just a case of a criminal trying anything to get free. You doubted Paul even cared about what happened to you anymore. He probably never wanted to see you again—and that was a good thing. 

     But, then, you couldn’t get those words out of your head.

     He’s out and he’s coming for you.

     Bradford turned to you, his chest rising and falling. He looked so…resolved. Like he did when chasing down a suspect or that time when you’d walked in on him in the training rooms.

     Images of Tim shirtless, the muscles in his back tight as he pushed himself harder filled your head and you quickly shook them away. Definitely not the time. 

   “We’ll send a surveillance team to Paul’s location in the morning,” Grey said, turning to address you. “But for now the best thing you can do is to go home, get some sleep, and not let this rattle you. Understood?”

     “Yes, Sergeant.”

     “Good. Because the last thing the L.A.P.D needs is a cop who lets their personal life get in the way of their ability to do their job in any way that’s less than exemplary. I trust that’s not the case?” 

     You glanced to Bradford, certain he was going to mention your mistake with the suspect earlier. 

     “No, Sir,” Tim said instead. “My rookies don’t do ‘less than exemplary’. Don’t worry about (Y/l/n)—she’s proved to me she has what it takes to be an officer.”

     “Glad to hear it. Shift over. Everybody else, back to work,” Sergeant Grey waved everyone away. 

     You walked towards the front of the room, hearing grumbled complaints about midnight shift from the unlucky officers who still had to do patrol as you did so. 

     You stopped in front of your TO. His eyes were on you, his brow drawn in something that looked like concern.

     “Thanks,” you said. You couldn’t believe he’d told Grey all that—it was the most complimentary thing he’d said about you in your whole time riding with him. 

     “I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true,” Tim stated, shrugging. “I expect you to live up to any praise I’ve given you.”

     “Yes, sir,” you nodded, almost smiling.

     “Besides, you’re being trained by me. You’d have to be royally screwed up not to become one of the best on the force.”

     “And he’s humble too,” you teased. “But I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

     “Whatever, Boot.” Tim smiled, shaking his head. 

     “Be nonchalant all you want,” you said, feeling brave. “I know you like me.”

     For a brief moment, Tim looked like you’d slapped him. But then, the flash of—whatever that was—was gone and his expression was replaced by one of cold indifference. 

     “In your TO not your friend, (Y/l/n),” he stated. “It’s not about liking you. It’s about training you.”

      You sighed inwardly. Just when you thought you were making ground with Tim, he treated you like you’d just met. “Of course, how could I forget.”

     Tim stayed silent. 

    “Well, I should head out,” you told him, “I’ve got a busy night ahead me. You know, trying not to get killed by my ex and all.”

     You’d meant it as a joke, to make light of the situation that left you feeling more uneasy than you’d care to admit. Tim, however, just shook his head and brushed past you, out of the briefing room. 

     You stood there for a moment, trying to work through what had just happened, before turning around and taking a step in the other direction. Only to find Officers Lopez and Bishop standing in front of you, staring between you and Tim’s retreating figure. 

     “So how’d you do it?” Bishop looked you up and down.

     “Do what?” You asked, confused. 

     “Get Tim wrapped around your finger,” Lopez answered for her, smirking. 

     You felt your eyes widen. “Tim’s not—” 

     “Please,” Lopez put her hands on her hips. “I’ve watched him train dozens of rookies and he’s never stood up for any of them like that. So naturally I figured you’re either blackmailing him or sleeping with him.”

     You blanched, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks as you let what Angela said sink in. You knew she was just teasing you, but the statement caught you off guard. You imagined you and Tim—together. It wasn’t necessarily an unpleasant thought. And then you realized what you were thinking and you chided yourself, hurriedly un-imagining it. 

     “No, that’s not—neither one of those things,” you answered quickly. “Trust me, Tim doesn’t give me any special treatment, if that’s what you’re implying. I actually can’t tell if he hates me half of the time.”

     “We’re not implying anything,” Bishop replied. “Only observing. And he doesn’t hate you.”

     “How can you possibly know that?” You were suddenly insecure. You still held on to a secret dread that you were going to wildly disappoint Tim—that you already had. Sure, there was all the stuff he had just said. But there was also months of him being hard on you and saying that you weren’t friends. 

     “Because I’ve seen him hate plenty of people,” Bishop spoke. “And he definitely didn’t look at them the way he looks at you.”

      The way Tim looked at you? You weren’t aware he looked at you in a way that was different from the way he looked at anyone else at the station.

     “What are you guys trying to say?” You asked them. 

     “I’m saying watch out,” Bishop raised an eyebrow. “Because Tim might like you more than he’s willing to let you—or himself—in on.”

     Could there be any truth to what the two officers were saying? Was it wrong for a small part of you to hope there was?

     “Um, ok,” you said, blinking. “I’ll keep that in mind, thanks.”

     “Don’t believe us if you want, it’s your call,” Bishop shrugged, backing up. “But I’m telling you, you mean something to Tim that the rest of us can only guess at.”

     And with that she walked out of the room.

    “Bishop can be intense,” Angela said when the woman was out of earshot. “She’s got that whole ‘anti-cops-dating’ thing going on—but I do think she’s right about this. Tim’s tough, and I’m sure he gives you hell—but it’s not because he doesn’t like you. I actually think it’s quite the opposite. ”

     Was there really something that everyone saw between you and Tim except for you? You still couldn’t even entertain the thought that Tim had feelings for you that were more than TO and rookie. 

     “Well you’ve certainly left me with a lot to think about,” you said finally.

     “Then I’ll let you start thinking—you’re welcome for the peace of mind.” 

     You wouldn’t have used the phrase peace of mind, yourself. Sure, it was nice to know that the officers who had known your TO for years were confident that he didn’t look down on you. But, this conversation also had left your head swimming with conflicting thoughts about Tim that you didn’t feel like dealing with right now.

     “And take care,” Lopez said knowingly. “We have your back if anything happens.”

      With that, your thoughts slammed back to the current situation.

    “Right, that. You—you think something’s going to happen?” You asked, trying to sound casual.

     “I think in this job we have to be prepared for the worst,” she corrected. “But I also think that bastard would have to be pretty stupid to mess with you.”

     She smiled at you and you smiled back. After watching her leave, you followed her path, heading towards the locker rooms.

     You thought about what she had said about you and Tim, about Paul.

     You hoped she was right—you just couldn’t say which you hoped she was more right about.

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

     Your thoughts bounced between your conversation with Talia and Angela and the message from your ex as you walked to your car minutes later. 

     When you woke up this morning, you thought the most stressful part of your day would’ve been a police chase or a shootout.  You never would’ve expected it to be my ex-boyfriend is out of jail and could be hunting me down and my training officer might have feelings for me.

     Funny how things could change so fast.

     Suddenly, you heard a bang. You spun around quickly, your heart in your throat. But it was only a car door being slammed shut from across the parking lot. 

     Get a grip, you told yourself. 

     You rounded the corner, running a hand through your hair.

     You stopped. Tim was leaning against the side of your car, arms crossed in front of his chest. He looked you up and down.

     “What are you doing?” You asked. 

     “Driving you home, Boot,” Tim said. “Get in the car.”

     “Tim, you don’t have to—”

     “That wasn’t a question, give me the keys.”

     There was no point in fighting him. Besides, there was a small part of you that didn’t really want to fight him. 

     You tossed him the keys to your car and got in the passenger seat with a sigh.  

     Tim started the engine. 

     “If this is about Paul, this really isn’t necessary,” you said after you’d been driving for several minutes and the silence became too much. “I can handle myself. I am an officer, in case you forgot.”

     “You’re a rookie,” Tim corrected, eyes never leaving the road. “And if the department won’t do anything, then I will.”

     “What—we’re not going to go looking for him, are we?” You asked.

     “Of course not,” Tim scoffed. “I’m not a vigilante, Boot. Where do you live?”

     “Take a left at the light,” you guided. 

     Neither of you talked for the remainder of the drive, save your occasional directions. When you pointed out your apartment building, Tim parked the car and handed you the keys. 

     “Thanks,” you mumbled to him as you got out of the car, grabbing your bag and heading towards the building.

     You heard a door shut behind you and turned to find your TO standing on the sidewalk, an eyebrow raised.

     “You didn’t think I was just going to let you spend the night alone with a target on your head, did you, Boot?” 

     “Tim—”

     “No more protests,” he said firmly. “As your TO, I—”

     “No, I was just going to say that if you were planning on staying here, why couldn’t I have just driven my own car?”

     “I don’t let my rookies drive,” Tim walked past you and to the front door. “Even off-duty.”

     You followed him quickly, getting out your key and letting you both in.

     When you reached your apartment you did a quick scan of the space—it wasn’t exactly like you’d been expecting company, much less your training officer. You cringed at the messiness.

      “How many entrances and exits are there?” Bradford asked. 

     “Um, just the front door. And there’s windows in the kitchen and the bedroom,” you said. 

     You skimmed past everything in the place, looking towards the window in your bedroom. Your eye caught on one of your bras hanging from your bedpost. You quickly ran over and shut the door, blushing and hoping Tim hadn’t noticed.

     “Please, Boot,” Tim made a face. “It’s nothing I haven’t already seen before.”

     “Ok no offense, but I usually don’t let guys see my bra the first time I bring them to my place,” you joked.

     “If that’s an offer, I’m going to have to politely decline.”

     “What—no,” you hurried out, worried your voice sounded wrong. “I just meant—”

    Tim interrupted. “I’m going to do a sweep of the place, make sure everything’s as it should be.”

     “Is that really needed?”

     “I’m not taking any chances.” He left the room and you sunk down onto the couch, letting your bag fall to the floor. 

     Your TO returned a few minutes later. “All clear.”

     “See, everything’s fine,” you said, speaking just as much to yourself as you were to Tim. 

     “Well,” Bradford started, amusement in his eyes. “I wouldn’t say everything is fine. Your storage closet’s a fire hazard.”

     Had Tim Bradford just made a joke?

     “I’ll be sure not to exit through the closet in the events of a fire,” you said sarcastically. “And if you keep insulting my living space, I’m going to be forced to kick you out.”

     “Bold for someone whose career I could end.”

     “You can’t end my career for that,” you shot back. Paused. “Can you?”

     Tim raised his eyebrows.

     “Only one way to find out,” you said enthusiastically, teasing him now. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t let the closet trap you on the way out.

     “Nice try, Boot. But you’re still stuck with me for,” Tim checked his watch. “eight hours.”

     “Nine hours,” you corrected. You had to leave for work in nine hours.

     “You’re right, I should get us drinks,” Tim joked.

     You rolled you eyes and he shot you a look. “Help yourself to anything in the fridge.”

     Tim got up, disappearing into the kitchen.  

     “Is all you own ginger ale, Boot?” He called. 

     “There’s six year old tequila in the cupboard,” you suggested.

     “Ginger ale it is.”

      Tim joined you in the living room again, carrying two bottles. He handed one to you, sitting down on the opposite side of the couch. 

     You noted the careful distance he put between you. 

     “What’s this thing made of, Boot? Plywood?” Tim asked, inspecting the couch.

     You smothered a laugh.

     “Get comfortable. It’s where you’re sleeping,” you answered. 

     “Won’t be necessary. If you’re not awake you’re not aware.”

     “So, what, we’re taking shifts on guard like this is a stakeout?” You asked.

     “Don’t be ridiculous. I didn’t come here to sleep.”

     “Tim I can’t let you stay up all night while I’m unconscious.” you sighed.

     “You can if it’s an order. Besides, no offense, but rookies are historically less vigilant and have a slower response time…” 

     You tried not to take offense at that. “Right, Eagle Eye.”

     Tim glared at you. 

     “Angela told me.”

     “Of course she did. And at least I didn’t leave valuable evidence on the street to chase after a dog wearing a top hat.”

     “Sparky could’ve been involved in the crime,” you said, indignant. “And that was one time!”

     “One time too many,” Tim mumbled, lifting the bottle to his lips, his eyes sparkling. 

     “Ok, so when you were a rookie you were, what, perfect?” You shot back.

     “Damn straight.” Tim nodded. 

     “You made no mistakes, at all?” You prompted.

     “Well,” Tim took a sip of his drink. “There was one thing.”

     “Aside from the graffiti incident?”

     “That wasn’t a mistake because it wasn’t my fault. I was following direct orders and—you know what, never mind. If you don’t want to hear it—”

     “No, no, I do!” you scooted towards the edge of your seat in anticipation. “And none of that ‘I worked too hard and too efficiently’ crap.”

     “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said sarcastically. “My first week on the job I was put on paperwork duty, which was—”

     “Boring and tedious? I can imagine,” you deadpanned, having been put in charge of paperwork by Tim many times.

     “I was going to say necessary and a valuable skill to have,” Bradford corrected. “But anyways, we had just got done booking a couple suspects and I was working on the reports. A triple homicide and a prostitution case. It was a long day and I was tired and I guess I got sloppy—”

     “You? Sloppy?” You interrupted.

     “Do you want me to tell you this story or not?”

     “Right, sorry. Continue.”

     Tim did. “I’d just finished tagging the evidence for both cases and when I was filling everything out I somehow got the numbers mixed up. Long story short, according to my report, the homicide gun ended up being linked to the prostitution case and the weapon allegedly used in the triple homicide was…a pair of pink, fluffy handcuffs.”

      You couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped you now.

     “Forensics caught it before it was sent to the judge, thank god,” Bradford sighed. “But the next day when I was getting ready for my shift, I was greeted by dozens of similar handcuffs in my locker—apparently Smitty has a guy.”

     “Tell me you kept them,” you begged, pulling your knees up to your chest.

     “Of course not!”

     Tim blinked.

     “Well, not all of them—Isabel made me take a pair home. I found out later that she was the one who orchestrated the whole prank. She used to do stuff like that all the time before she, uh,—”

     “Tim—”

     You’d heard about Bradford’s ex-wife. How she’d become an addict, gotten herself mixed up with bad people. You knew how much it had affected Tim, even if he hadn’t said so. 

     She was in rehab now, getting her life back together. You were glad she was finally getting the help she needed. Still, you knew how much she meant to Tim. How much it had hurt him to move on from her and let her start a new life without him. 

     “I’m fine.” Tim said firmly, clearing his throat. “It’s good to talk about her…before. She’s on the right path now.”

     You stared at the ground in front of you, picking at your fingernails. 

     “Are you still in love with her?” The question was out of your mouth before you could stop it. You didn’t know why you asked—didn’t know why you cared what the answer was. Ten minutes ago you wouldn’t have even dared to ask that question.  

     But he was being so uncharacteristically open and you seemed to be getting along well. You reluctantly brought your eyes up to Tim.

     His eyes had gone wide. He looked like he wanted to leave or yell at you or both, and you immediately regretted it.

     But then his eyes softened and he opened his mouth. “No. I’ll always care about her and she’ll always be someone that I did love. But relationships change—people change.”

     You nodded. “I get it—I mean, I’m kind of rusty on relationships—but I get it. I actually haven’t dated anyone since Paul. I guess it was just hard to trust someone after that. I kind of sabotaged any relationship that had any chance of starting.”

     It was the first time you’d admitted that to anyone. You wouldn’t have pegged Tim as being so easy to talk to. You had almost forgotten about the whole Paul situation before you’d just brought him up. You had been enjoying hanging out with Tim, no matter the circumstances. He was actually pleasant to be around when he wasn’t on the clock. 

     You imagined this happening more often—you and Tim, not just coworkers but friends. Maybe even more. Maybe this was one relationship you didn’t have to end before it started.

     You dared to let yourself think about it. You watched Tim process your words. Saw the emotion clearly written in his face as he looked at you intensely. 

     “Hey, thanks again for not letting me be alone tonight,” you told him, you’re voice soft. 

     “Don’t take it personally, Boot,” he said. “My house is being repainted and even your place beats breathing in paint fumes all night.”

     “I’m honored,” you laughed, rolling your eyes. “But you have to admit this has been fun—hanging out.”

     Your little impromptu sleepover. You smiled.

     Tim, however, looked like a switch had been flipped inside of him. You watched as he clenched his jaw, leaning almost imperceptibly away from you 

     “Listen, Boot—”

     He was cut off by the sound of breaking glass and a loud thumping sound. 

     You both shot up off the couch, abandoning your drinks. Tim’s hand went to his gun. You did the same. 

     Tim turned to you. “Stay here.”

     “Like hell,” you shot back, following him as he started to do a sweep of the main room.

     If that sound was someone—Paul—breaking in, you weren’t going to sit here and let Bradford fight your battles for you. 

     He signaled to let you know he was moving to the kitchen. You nodded, following. 

     “Clear,” he muttered, and moved on towards the bathroom. You were right behind him when you heard another noise, like the muffled sound of scraping of furniture, and you spun around.

     The bedroom. It was the only room in that direction that you hadn’t checked yet. 

     You glanced to Tim, but he hadn’t heard it. He was a few feet ahead of you, just now entering the bathroom. 

     You slowly stepped away from him and made your way across the apartment, down the hall and over to the closed bedroom door.

     Holding your weapon in one hand, you opened the door with the other. But, you barely had time to see what was on the other side before you were grabbed and a cloth was shoved into your mouth. 

     Your gun was ripped from your hand, and you were pushed hard onto the ground. Your wrist burned where you landed on shards of glass from the broken window

     Something smacked into the back of your head and you were dragged and thrown onto the bed on the corner. You heard the door shut. 

     Squinting up into the light, rubbing your throbbing head, your heart dropped as you saw who was in front of you. 

     “Did you miss me?” Paul sneered, spinning your gun in his hand. 

     You froze. Everything crashed into you at once. The events of the last time you saw your ex-boyfriend sped through your mind. Suddenly, you were scared and 18 again, at the mercy of this man. 

     “I guess you got my man’s message,” Paul continued. “Because you don’t exactly look shocked to see me. Scared, of course, but not shocked.”

     Coming back to yourself, you scrambled up onto your knees, ready to knock him out.

     Paul shook his head, laughing. “No, no. If you move even an inch I’ll shoot you right in the forehead.”

     You sat back down, your heart thumping in your chest as you scanned the room for a way out. Some way to get the upper hand on him. You had been trained for this.

     “Listen to me,” he continued, his hand coming to the gag in your mouth. You flinched away from him. “I know there’s someone in here with you. If you try to scream to alert them, I will also shoot you.  I’d like to play with you first before I put a bullet in your brain but, hey, I’m not picky. Is that clear?”

     You nodded, trying to measure how fast you could knock the weapon out of his hand before he could take a shot at you. Paul took the cloth out of you mouth.

     You gasped in air. “Backup’s going to be in here any second and then you’re going back to prison.”

     Tim would notice you were gone. He had to. 

     “Oh, I don’t think so,” Paul smiled. “I’ll be long gone and you’ll be long dead before that happens.”

     You glanced towards the door. What was taking him so long?

     Suddenly, Paul reached forwards and gripped your face in his hand. “Just as beautiful as I remember. It was such a shame things had to end with us as they did. How did that happen again? Oh, that’s right. You betrayed me.”

     “And that was the best decision I ever made,” you spat. 

     Paul backed up, shaking his head. “You’ve gotten feistier, baby. It’ll make this so much more fun for me.”

     He stepped back towards you, his face inches from yours, sneering. “This’ll be just like old times.”

     Bam! The door to your bedroom busted open. Bradford rushed in, taking in the situation. You breathed a sigh of relief.

     “Get down on the ground!” Tim growled.

     Paul froze for only a second, fear flashing across his face, but it was enough. You lunged, wrestling the gun out of his hands, your wrist protesting. 

     You trained it on him. Paul was surrounded.

     “You have five seconds to get on the ground before I shoot you,” Tim bit out, his expression murderous.

     “Come on, baby, you’re not going to let Officer Buzzkill treat me like that, are you?” Paul appealed to you. 

     You leveled your gaze on him, ignoring his words. “You heard him. Get on the ground.”

     Paul slowly knelt, never taking his eyes off of you. Tim charged him, pulling out handcuffs and locking them around his wrists. 

    You took a moment to be amused—of course Tim had off-duty cuffs. 

    “So this ends the way it starts, huh?” Paul shook his head. “You getting me locked up?”

     “Just like old times,” you echoed his earlier statement. You stayed stoic, putting your hands on your hips to hide the way they shook.

    Anger sparked in Paul’s eyes before he took on a smug expression. “You’re right. You’re the same girl you were when I met you. You haven’t changed a bit.”

     “Don’t listen to him, Boot,” Tim warned hauling the man up off the ground. 

     “You know I’m right,” Paul’s manic eyes bore into yours. He was enjoying every moment of this, laughter in his tone. It took all that was in you to keep your expression blank, unaffected. “You’ll always be that person I knew—the person who loved me. Because you did—love me. You could’ve walked away. But you didn’t. You just took it all like the victim you are. You pathetic bitch—”

      He was cut off abruptly as Tim slammed him face-first against the wall. Paul cried out.

     “That’s enough!” Tim shouted. “If you ever threaten—no, if you even look at (Y/l/n) again, I will hunt you down and personally remove every external limb from your body, do you understand me? (Y/n) is a million times the person you will ever be and you don’t get to make her feel small. If I didn’t think sitting in a cell for the rest of your life was a worse fate, I’d kill you right now—screw the department.”

     Your ears were ringing, your head dizzy as you tried to ground yourself. Your voice came out tiny. “Tim, stop.”

     Bradford turned to you, almost as if he had forgotten you were in the room. He was breathing hard, his fists clenched around the man in custody. 

     “And she’s not a victim,” Tim whispered, turning back to Paul, his voice right by his ear. “She’s a survivor.”

     With that, he shoved Paul back to the ground and moved over to you, his eyes roaming over your face. Your body. He took the gun out of your hands, setting it on the desk. Then, he gripped your injured wrist and you winced as he inspected it.

     “Probably hurts like hell, but you won’t need stitches. Any other injuries?”

     “Um, he hit me in the back of the head,” you felt your scalp, a lump already forming.

     Tim’s hands moved to your hair, his touch gentle, his breath on your cheek as he leaned to get a better look.

     Your own breath caught, your heart racing at the intimacy of your position. 

     “What’s the damage?” You almost whispered.

     Tim’s eyes met yours, the heat of his stare spreading through your body. “You’ll have a nasty bruise, but there’s no external bleeding.”

     Tim stepped back, and you found yourself wishing he hadn’t.

     “Are you—are you ok, Boot?” He asked carefully. 

     How did you even answer that question? You were still in shock, unable to process what had just happened. 

     “I will be,” you settled on, breathing in slowly. Exhaling.

      Tim looked like he wanted to say more but he clenched his jaw, glancing in the direction of Paul, who had been uncharacteristically silent. Maybe he had finally accepted his defeat. 

     “I’m going to call for back up, you go clean that up,” Tim gestured to the blood covering your wrist where you had landed in the broken glass. “You need help?”

     “No, I got it,” You nodded, walking towards the bathroom as you heard Tim make the call.

     “911, what’s your emergency?”

     “This is off-duty officer Tim Bradford, badge 34831. I need a unit to my location for a 126. Suspect in custody. Code 4.”

      Tim’s voice faded as you made your way down the hall, shutting the bathroom door after you to access the medicine cabinet behind it.

     You took out the necessary supplies and began cleaning the wound. You stopped in front of the sink, letting your burning eyes close for a moment, massaging your temples. 

     Now that you were alone, you let yourself collapse, bracing your hands against the counter 

     Images flooded your senses. 

     The gag. Paul hitting you from behind. You, young and frightened, huddled on the ground. That gleam in his eyes.

     Your eyes snapped open, your breath coming out fast.

     He’s in custody. You told yourself. He can’t hurt you anymore. 

     You looked at your reflection in the mirror staring wearily back at you, your hands still shaking as you brushed your hair back from your face. Was it hot in here or was it just you?

      Turning your attention back to your wrist, you took a deep breath and continued to dab at the wound.

      You reached for the bandages on the counter. A sheen of sweat broke out on your forehead as you wrapped your arm. 

      You pictured Paul’s grip on you. His words rang in your ears. 

     You’re the same girl you were when I met you. You haven’t changed a bit.

     The room tilted. You swayed on your feet so you sunk down to the ground, leaning your head against the cabinet, the cool wood pressing against your head. 

     You tried to slow your erratic breathing but you couldn’t. You couldn’t—

     The sound of footsteps and voices carried through the door. You were vaguely aware that it was probably the backup here to take Paul away.

     You closed your eyes, your throat tight, you pulse thundering in your ears.

     I’m ok, you tried to tell yourself. I’m ok. I’m ok.

     You were unaware how long you sat like this. You had no concept of time. Your thoughts were wild, images flashing in and out, unable to form conscious ideas. Every breath sending a sharp pain through your body. 

     “Boot?”

     The muffled voice was closer than the others had been. 

     “Boot?” The voice was louder now. You registered Tim at the door. He knocked once. Twice. 

     “Boot, I’m coming in,” he shouted, his voice laced with worry. The door was shoved open. 

     “Dammit,” he cursed, seeing your state. You felt him getting closer to you, but you didn’t look up as he knelt by you, his concerned expression taking in yours.

     “Hey, look at me,” Tim coaxed. “(Y/l/n), breathe.”

     He seemed miles and miles away. There was a pause.

     “Hey, Boot, I got another test for you,” he spoke quickly, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. “I want you to tell me the most annoying person we work with.”

     “What?” You rasped, barely hearing him. 

    “Bishop’s an easy target,” he said. “And Lopez is a slob, so you can’t go wrong there. West’s got the whole daddy issues thing. Don’t even get me started on Nolan—”

     You swallowed hard, your mouth feeling dry.

     “And then there’s me. I mean, I’m annoying right?”

     You breathed a shaky laugh, opening your eyes slowly. 

     Tim smiled. “Oh so you agree? It’s ok, Boot, you can say me. Go ahead, I can take it.”

     When you didn’t say anything, Tim kept talking. “Personally I’d go for Detective Coleman. The man makes double what I do and I’m convinced he doesn’t own a decent looking tie.”

     “L-like the—the green one from last week,” you managed, trying to slow your breathing.

     “Leprechauns would call it tacky,” Tim agreed. “Now, since we’ve discussed this from all angles I’m going to need you to choose wisely. Because this is going to go on your evaluation for today.”

     You gulped. “Are—are you going to get me fired if I say you?”

     Tim let out a quiet, relieved laugh. “I knew it. Guess who’s going back to long-sleeves on Monday?”

     “In this heat wave? You—you wouldn’t dare,” you joked, sniffing.

     “I don’t know, I am the most annoying person you work with—sounds like something I might do.”

     You laughed again, this time the sound coming out less strained. You focused on taking deep breaths, feeling your heart rate return to normal. 

     “There you go.” Tim stood up, offering his hand to you for the second time that day. You gripped his arm as he pulled you up onto shaky legs.

     “Thanks,” you mumbled, embarrassed to have had your TO see you like this now that your head was clearer. 

     “For what, doing my job?”

     You smiled weakly at him, running a hand along your forehead. “Sorry for um—”  

     “Having a normal reaction to a highly emotional situation? Don’t apologize for being human,” Tim said firmly, his forehead creased.

     “So, he’s gone?” You’re voice came out small.

     Tim’s expression softened. “He’s gone.”

     You nodded again, looking at the floor.  Tim sighed, reaching an arm out. “Come here.”

You took a step towards him and then you were in his arms, his embrace strengthening you as he rubbed your back. You stood there like that, not wanting this to end. Not wanting to put distance between you again. Finally, he pulled back and looked down at you, his gaze weighted, before taking a few steps towards the door. You looked over Tim’s shoulder.

     “Hey, (Y/n), look at me.” Tim said. You brought your gaze up to meet his. “He is never going to hurt you again, ok? I’ll make sure of that.”

      You let your eyes fall closed, feeling ashamed that you had been so affected. That Tim had to handle all of this for you. “I know. And I’ll understand if after…all this, you don’t see me fit to—to be a police officer anymore.”

     Tim’s eyes hardened, his voice hardening with them. “With all do respect, Boot, that’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever said. I meant every word of what I said back there—you’re a survivor. All I saw tonight is that you are a brave and intelligent woman who just so happens to have a scumbag of an ex-boyfriend. Don’t let it define you because then he wins. You’re a great cop, (Y/l/n). It’s rookies like you who make the force as strong as it is.”

     You listened to Tim speak. He sounded so…passionate. Bishop’s words came back to you.

     Tim might like you more than he’s willing to let you—or himself—in on.

     You desperately wanted that to be true, now more than ever. He’d been so kind to you in this past hour—staying with you, rescuing you, reassuring you, bringing you back from whatever dark place you had just been in. 

     And then this. Talking about you like he…like he really cared about you. And maybe it was just because he felt like as your training officer he had to protect you. But in the moment, it felt like maybe it could be more than that. 

    “So what I’m hearing is, I’m getting a promotion?” You teased finally, brushing your hair back from your damp face, breaking the silence. 

     Bradford put up a hand. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, you still have a lot to learn from me.”

     You sighed. This was normal, this was comfortable. How you and Tim always acted with each other. You were both relieved and disappointed at the change back into familiar territory. 

     You ran a hand through your hair, stifling a yawn. Saying today had been a long day would’ve been the understatement of the century.

     “Now come on,” Tim flicked his head in the direction of the door. “It’s way past my bedtime.”

     “Let me guess, nine p.m. sharp every night?” You teased.

     “That’s not true.”

     You raised an eyebrow at him.

     “Nine-thirty,” he admitted. 

     You giggled, following Tim out of the bathroom and into the hallway which led to the living room.

     You glanced at your bedroom as you passed it, trying not to think about what had happened in there. It was over now, you told yourself. 

     “Since my room is kind of a crime scene, I guess we’re both crashing out here,” you sighed, gesturing to the couch. 

      Silence filled the room and you immediately realized your mistake, cheeks flaming. 

     “Or, right, I guess you can go now. Danger’s over.”

     “Are you kidding?” Tim said. “And get to bed even later? I’m not going anywhere.”

     You stepped into the living room. You were glad Tim was staying. You felt safer with him here, even though you knew it was irrational. 

     “I’ll get the blankets and stuff,” you said, turning back the way you’d came.

     “Let me go with you,” Tim offered.

     “I would but they’re in the closet and I don’t want it to trap you or something,” you said. 

     “You think I can’t take a closet full of your crap? Bring it on,” Tim challenged and you led him down the hall. 

     A few minutes later you returned to the living room, blankets and pillows in tow. Tim helped you pull out the couch bed—you were grateful you’d opted for this couch instead of a regular one—and you stood back, admiring your work. 

     “Take the couch,” you told him. “It was your bed originally.”

     “Not gonna happen.” Tim crossed his arms. “It’s your house. And you’re injured.”

     “I’m fine. And where are you going to sleep? The floor?” You asked him. 

     Tim scanned the room and then sat down on the chair across from the couch-turned-bed. 

     “Are you sure you’re ok on that?” You asked. It didn’t exactly look comfortable for spending hours on.

     “Trust me, Boot, you got the short end of the stick. Have fun sleeping on plywood.” 

      You smiled. “So, what, you’re just going to sit over there and watch me sleep?”

     “I can leave, if you’re—”

     “No,” you’re voice came out faster and more sharp than you’d intended. “I mean, you came all this way, I don’t want you to have to get an Uber home at this hour.”

     You climbed into bed, aware that you were still in your clothes, but not caring enough to change. 

     “We should get some sleep, it’s been a long night,” Tim sighed. He got up and turned the lights off, darkness filling the room. 

     “Damn, boot,” you heard Tim’s voice even though you couldn’t see him anymore. “It’s pitch black in here. You don’t sleep with a light or anything?”

     “Well I don’t usually sleep in my living room,” you pointed out. Then you stifled a laugh. “Wait a minute. Is Officer Tim Bradford afraid of the dark?”

     Tim scoffed. “I’m not afraid of the dark.”

     “Your secret’s safe with me,” you teased.

     “There is no secret,” Tim shot back.

     You winked. “Exactly.”

     “You’re impossible.”

     “Thank you.” You smiled.

     The room fell silent. You heard him sit back down. 

     You laid back, staring up at the ceiling. The seconds ticked by. 

    “Do you—do you think he really would’ve shot me?” You asked, finally.

     “I don’t know,” Tim admitted. “He clearly thought you guys had unfinished business. But guys like that get high on fear—on desperation. He couldn’t have that if you were dead. In his mind, he’d be losing his power over you.”

     He paused. 

     “Besides, I don’t think he would’ve gotten the chance,” Tim said. “He clearly underestimated the badass-ness of his opponent.”

     You snorted. “Did you just say ‘badass-ness’?”

     “It’s a word!” Tim defended. 

     You laughed, turning over on your side. 

     “But seriously, if you ever need anything, you can always talk to me,” Tim said, sounding earnest. “I mean it.”

     “I may just take you up on that,” you responded. “Do you tell that to all your rookies?”

     You could barely make out Tim’s frame in the dark. “No, not all of them.”

     “I’m going to take that as I’m special,” you said. 

     Your next words were out of your mouth before you could stop them.   

    “You know, Lopez and Bishop had this crazy idea that you had feelings for me,” you said, staring up at the ceiling. “But I told them it was just that—crazy.”

     Tim didn’t speak.

     “It is crazy right?” You asked. You had to know. He still was silent. “Right?”

     “Boot, look—” Bradford started. His voice came out rough, as if he hadn’t talked in days. Your heartbeat was a deafening roar in your ears. 

     “Tim?”

     You could hear more than see Tim’s movements. He stood, pacing the length of the room. Sat back down. Stood up again. Sat. 

     “Dammit, Boot, I can’t do this,” he finished. “I can’t do this right now, (Y/n).”

     Your pulse quickened. He hadn’t denied it. 

     You stood up. 

     And maybe it was having to deny your attraction to your TO for seven months. Maybe it was the adrenaline still coursing through your veins from the attack earlier. Maybe it was because the darkness felt safe and secret—made you feel like you could do anything. Maybe you were just too eager after his small encouragement—or, lack of discouragement.

     But, whatever the reason, you walked over to where Tim sat, kneeled down, looked into his confused, strained eyes, and kissed him. 

     Tim froze, his lips still against yours. And then, almost as if he was afraid you would vanish or startle, he placed his hand gingerly on your waist, and leaned into the kiss.

     And he was kissing you back. Tim Bradford was kissing you back. 

     His free hand went to your hair, deepening the kiss as he gripped you closer. He kissed you like he had been waiting a lifetime.

     It was desperate and raw and passionate—it was perfect.

     You broke apart, both gasping for breath.       

     “Listen, Boot,” Tim started. You watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “You’ve had a long and confusing day—”

     You interrupted him. “Yeah. Yeah, I have. But I’m not confused about this.”

     You brought your lips to his again. This time he didn’t hold back. He pulled you closer to him and you felt the warmth of him through his shirt. 

     When you came apart again, he was smiling. 

     “Well, I guess I can check thinking that you hate me off my daily checklist,” you whispered. 

     “I don’t hate you, Boot,” Tim said. “I actually hate how much I don’t hate you.”

     You studied the planes of his face, the light from the hallway illuminating his eyes. His lips. His jawline.

     “Boot—”

     “If you’re going to say that this is a bad idea, I don’t want to hear it. Not tonight,” you said. 

     “I thought that was obvious.” Tim stated matter-of-factly. “I was going to say actually I’d appreciate it if you did turn on a lamp or something, because—”

     You laughed, kissing him again. 

     “But seriously,” Tim continued. “You know we can’t do this.”

     “Why not?” You pouted. “If it’s what we both want.”

     “It’s not about what we want—we could be putting both of our careers in jeopardy.”

     You knew he was right. Of course he was right. 

     “But is it—what you want?” 

     “God yes,” Tim blurted, standing up, his voice strained. “It’s what I’ve wanted from the moment I started training you. Do you know how hard it’s been trying to put distance between us and deny every damn thing when all I wanted to do was—”

     He broke off, running a hand along his hair. 

     “Then do it.” Your heart pounded in your chest. “You’ll only be my TO for a few more months, we’ll just keep it a secret until then. No one has to know.”

     Tim looked at you. 

     “Ok you’re right, Bishop and Lopez will totally know something’s up,” you admitted.

     “I guess I’ll just have to transfer,” Tim joked.

     “What happened to ‘Tim Bradford finished what he starts’?” You asked.

     “Oh I intend to do just that,” Tim whispered. “Are we really thinking about doing this?”

     You thought about the consequences you could face—Tim could face—if it got out that you and your training officer were romantically involved. You knew it would be a huge risk—one that could get you cut from the program.

     You looked at Tim. He was watching you like he never wanted to let you go again. You thought about how long you’d wanted this, even if you didn’t fully know it until tonight.

     And the decision seemed clear.

     “Yeah,” you beamed. “Yeah I think we are.”

     He cupped your face in his hand, his fingers warm against the back of your neck. Your eyes closed against his touch. You felt comfort for the first time in hours.

     “You need rest,” Tim whispered and your eyes fluttered open. “As much as I’d love to do this all night.”

     You nodded, backing up towards your bed. Tim ran a hand through his hair again and then sat back down in the armchair.

    “What’re you doing?” You asked him.

    “Going to bed,” Tim answered, as if it was obvious. 

    “Get over here,” you gestured, rolling your eyes at him.

    “I was hoping you’d say that,” Tim smiled. 

     You climbed into bed beside him, pulling the covers over both of you.

     You lay your head on Bradfords chest. You could feel his heartbeat in your ear as you closed your eyes.     

    “You know, this will kind of be like doing undercover work—minus the threat of getting killed,” you said. 

     “I don’t know about that—I wouldn’t put anything past an angry Sergeant Grey.”

     “We’ll just have to be so in-character that we never find out,” you said. 

     “I’ll make sure to be extra tough on you next shift,” Tim agreed. 

     “And that’s different from any other day how?” You shot back, sitting up. 

     “Hey, training rookies is a sacred duty and I take that very seriously. If you think I’m going to throw your education out the window simply because—”

     You shut him up by pressing your lips to his. You echoed his earlier words. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

     Tim shook is head slightly, eyes roaming over your face. 

     “What?” You asked.

     “You’re so beautiful, (Y/n),” Tim breathed. “I’m so glad I can finally tell you that.”

     “Me too,” you said. “Even if it took…this for it to happen.”

     “Speaking of which, maybe I’ll take a sick day tomorrow,” Tim said. “Since there’s no way Grey—or myself—is letting you go to work. What’d you say?”

     You wanted to fight him, say you were fine and you could make it to your shift the next day. But the promise of taking a sick day with Tim was to tempting to pass up. 

     “I say I’m glad your house is being repainted,” you teased. “Because then you’ll have to stay with me.”

     Tim smiled knowingly. “My house isn’t being repainted, Boot. And I’m all yours.”

     You grinned, laying back down and resting your head back against Tim. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder.

     You felt safe, protected in his arms. 

     The rest would come. Dealing with what had happened tonight. Starting your secret relationship with Tim. Eventually facing everyone at work who had heard the news and would want to ask if you were ok. And you would be ok.

     But for now, this was enough. He was enough. 

     “Tim?” You whispered.

     “Hmm?”

     You struggled for words to fit the gravity of what you were feeling for him. “Thanks for…everything.”

     “What are TOs for,” Tim shrugged. 

     “Apparently keeping the night light business afloat.” You giggled at the look on Bradford’s face. 

     “Shut it, Boot.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ˋ°•*⁀➷ hope you enjoyed loves!! i’m so down bad for tim it’s not even funny 😵‍💫

[ultimate-chickennougat]

| Shut up for me, love, |

Toji Fushiguro x Wife!Reader

Toji finds out you're pregnant! (with Megumi)

Word Count: 1.5k

CW: SFW, domestic fluff, pregnancy, Toji has a job, slightly suggestive dialogue

A/n: I have an idea for a Part 2 (this was so fun)... also opening to take requests if you have any.

It was like floating on cloud nine, where everything was beautiful and happy. You couldn’t help but curl up into a ball on your bed, digging your fists into the covers while clutching the test. Why? Because it came up with two lines. 

You had always wanted kids, that was something your husband, Toji, knew very well. However, there was still something daunting, that translated into a sinking feeling in your gut. Something that you had wanted for so long, something bigger than yourself, was going to happen, and the two of you would face it together. 

There were so many things to look forward to while pregnant. Wearing cute dresses that emphasized your bump just right, a sign to yourself and the world of your lovely marriage and relationship with your husband. Family photos, pregnancy milestones, and finally, the birth that would happen in a bit under nine months. You were so happy to start your family with Toji, and the little bundle of joy that was growing inside of you.

That feeling of euphoria didn’t leave after laying there for five minutes. In fact, it probably never would. It was another version of the feeling you got when you first met Toji, and the one from when you married him, and you still couldn’t believe that it had happened. But, Toji would be home soon. 

Knowing your husband, still as frustrated with your finances as ever, the one thing you could decide was that balloons and cake would not be appreciated on this occasion. Though he knew of your desires, he never explicitly said he wanted a baby either. That was what scared you the most. 

Toji always humered you, when you visited little clothing boutiques and stores, and something in the maternity section caught your eye. Or, when you couldn’t help but offer to take care of your friend’s baby whenever you got the chance, and had the biggest smile he had ever seen on your face, when you held her. 

What you didn’t see, however, was that while you perused the racks of baby clothing, his eyes drifted over to the green dinosaur onesie, with dark green spikes covering the head and going over the back and the tail. He chuckled under his breath, starting to get ideas himself seeing how invested you were. 

When you mentioned getting pregnant, Toji said he wasn’t opposed, though the look on his face showed more that he was uninterested. While you trusted your husband, he was wonderful to you, that sinking feeling didn’t go away either. Part of the reason you were so enthusiastic, after all, was because you’d be raising your child with Toji, and that idea was the embodiment of perfection in your mind. Without him in all the way, would it really be the same?

Toji wasn’t a big fan of fuss anyway, his proposal and your wedding had been small and pretty simple, and you were fine with that. In all honesty it was nice, to not have to worry about every little thing being perfect anyway. For news like this, thinking about decorations would only be a distraction from figuring out what to say. 

“Toji, honey, I’m pregnant,” you repeated to yourself in the mirror, holding the test to give it to him, trying to present it like a gift of some sort. “I have some news for you, Toji,” another option, “It’s great news, I’m really excited,” you tried to make the perfect smile, to show him just how happy you were. But you just threw yourself back on the bed, covering the flush on your cheeks with your hand. 

Everything sounded fake when you tried it. Knowing Toji, if you said any of those things, he might think there was something wrong instead of the truth. And of course, you couldn’t knock that stupid grin off your face for more than a few seconds, butterflies fluttering around your stomach so much that you had to ground yourself. 

Your face heated up at the mere thought of your husband walking through the door, though he would be tired and bothered as per usual. How would he react? Would he be as happy as you are, or… and the sinking feeling was growing again. You lifted your knees, planting your feet flat on the bed so the hem of your dress laid right above your ankles, as you sat in thought, preparing yourself for the inevitable. 

In a way you had given up, on facing Toji head on. Instead you decided to lie in wait, and figure something out on a whim if it didn’t come to you before he got home. You tucked the test under the blanket next to your legs, trying to relax as best as you could. 

The click of the front door was a familiar sound, something that usually excited you. However on this particular day, it was a little bit too exciting, so much so that you couldn’t urge yourself to get up and move your hands from their comfortable spot covering your face. 

Toji made his way through the kitchen and the living room, missing the usual sound of you, his wife, running around doing whatever it was that you were doing when he came home every day. The occasional joking “Honey, I’m home,” something he had grown to secretly enjoy, couldn’t be said despite his relatively good mood - for his ‘honey’ wasn’t there. 

Heading into your shared bedroom, where he typically pulled off his stuffy work clothes and changed into something more comfortable, was where he found you, curled up and about as out-of-it as ever. 

Toji laid down behind you on the bed, leaning over onto his side to see you. He pulled one of your hands off your face, smirking as you opened your eyes and met his gaze. “Hey, stupid,” he laughed as you pulled your hand back, smacking his away. “Why you coverin’ that pretty face, huh?” he asked, settling down with his hand resting under his neck. “What happened to ‘wife’, or something,” you tried to pout. “I called you pretty,” he reasoned, “and I can see that stupid smile on your face, somethin’ happen to ya?” 

Toji reached his hand over, with more force this time, pulling both your hands off your face. The flushed red of your cheeks and cute little protests made him smile. “You gonna tell me what’s got you so flustered, wife?” he kept your hands lightly pinned beneath his. “Couldn’t help yourself from thinkin’ about me while I was at work… really is stupid to be embarrassed,” you shook your head as best as you could. 

“Toji…” you murmured out, trying not to look him in the eyes. You pulled your right hand away from him, reaching into the covers to where you shoved the test. “I’m just… really happy, okay?” you choked out meekly, biting your lip you threw the test back at him. 

Catching it in his hands, he stared at the two lines. “You don’t say, huh?” he breathed heavily, as you eyed his expression with worry. “I just found out…” you blushed as he looked back at you, listening intently. “And… I know we didn’t talk that much about it,” you whispered, feeling his hand tighten it’s grip around yours. “But I really want to be a mother, Toji,” you sighed, still anticipating his reply. 

“Didn’t realize we weren’t on the same page about that,” he turned away, with a smile on his face. “I don’t want to make you unhappy -” he cut you off with a kiss, leaning down as your heart raced even faster. “How ‘bout you shut up for me, love,” your face contorted into a look of surprise. “Am I that bad of a husband? I thought you knew I was on board,” he chuckled. “But you said you didn’t really care,” you whined, as he moved his hand to hold yours more comfortably. “Yeah, that was my way of sayin’ it,” you rolled your eyes at him. “Besides, who do you think did this to ya, I’m not that much of an idiot,” he held up the test again, the surrealness of it all was sinking in.

“So, do you know the gender yet?” he asked, as you squinted. “Toji, I just found out a few minutes ago,” you replied. “Yeah, but I figured you had some kind of mother’s intuition on that stuff,” he yawned, the tiredness from work starting to hit him. “Well, what do you think?” 

“A girl,” he stated quickly, as you thought about it. “Your final guess?” you asked, to which he agreed. “Well knowing your losing streak, it must be a boy then,” you laughed as he frowned, “I should put that on paper… How’s that for mother’s intuition?” You looked back at Toji, who was fully laid down with his eyes closed. “Pregnant women should get a lot of sleep, I’m just setting an example,” he yawned again, pulling your waist to turn you next to him. You snuggled in closer, the sinking feeling was gone though the butterflies were only getting worse by the minute. “Fine, but only for a little while. I have to make dinner,” Toji hummed in response. “G’night, future mama.”

(Part 2)

[ains-disco-spam]

Thoughts on Lena

The first time I played through Disco Elysium, I talked to Lena right after Kim joined my party and immediately got the dialogue option where she says something racist.

Because of that, I was iffy on her from the beginning. But I’ve seen a lot of people say that they actually didn’t know about this dialogue or that they didn’t get it on their playthrough. Whenever I see this dialogue mentioned, there are always a lot of people saying how disappointed they are that she would say something like that because she seems like a nice old lady.

I think that this moment is actually one of the most important depictions of racism in the game. Besides this one instance, Lena is friendly toward you and Kim. If you call her out on the implication that Seolites are a different species than her and Harry, she basically says that being a different species isn't a bad thing because white people have earwax that smells and Seolites don't.

The whole interaction is such a small moment within the game, and a small part of her character. It’s so easy to miss. And that is exactly how racism works.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been talking to an older person who seems kind and then all of a sudden they say something extremely bigoted out of the blue. I actually got the idea to write this after the nice old lady who is a custodian at my job said something transphobic in front of me and it totally broke my heart.

It’s easy to condemn a cross-burning KKK member or a homophobic preacher who says that all LGBTQ+ people will burn in hell. It’s a lot harder for people to condemn bigotry when it comes from people that they otherwise see as kind.

But most bigots are not like Gary the Cryptofascist or Measurehead. Most of them are like Lena. They are the uncles who think that “if people just cooperated with the police then they wouldn’t be shot.” They are the classmates who make fun of the professor’s accent. They are docile old ladies who think that Seolites are not as human as white people are.

And that makes it harder for people to see the bigotry within themselves. People can easily tell themselves things like “I don’t want all trans people to die, so I’m not transphobic. I’m just worried for the children.” When the media only portrays bigotry in its most extreme forms, it is hard to see that being a little bit racist is still being racist.

And this is even more interesting because of her and Morrell’s friendship with Gary. He is a self-proclaimed fascist with an extensive collection of racist mugs, but Lena and Morrell still keep him around, presumably because they are willing to overlook his “differing political opinions” because they think that he is a good person in other ways. And because his fascist ideas do not affect people that look like them.

So yeah, I want to see more people talking about how fascinating Lena and Morrell are as depictions of racism in Disco Elysium.

[cleo-fox]

Movie Night

Summary: You’re not really sure why Loki shows up for your movie nights. He never seems to like the movies, even when he picks them, and every movie you watch together is accompanied by a litany of dry complaints and general sarcasm from him. This is partly why it always ends up being just the two of you—the others don’t have the patience to put up with it. You generally think it’s funny, so you’ve never rescinded his invitation.

That and…you kind of have a thing for him.

Pairing: Loki/Female Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, couch sex, quiet sex, praise kink, friends to lovers, making out, vaginal fingering, semi-public sex, praise kink.

A/N: I’m working on cross posting all my stuff from AO3. I wrote this a little while ago in an effort to address some writer’s block (it didn’t work, but I had fun writing it). This is also on AO3.

You’re not really sure why Loki shows up for your movie nights. He never seems to like the movies, even when he picks them, and every movie you watch together is accompanied by a litany of dry complaints and general sarcasm from him. This is partly why it always ends up being just the two of you—the others don’t have the patience to put up with it. You generally think it’s funny, so you’ve never rescinded his invitation.

That and you’ve got a little bit of a thing for him. You think he might have some interest in you, but you’re not certain enough to make the first move.

You look forward to your movie nights, but when this particular Friday night rolls around, you’re absolutely dragging by the time the clock strikes eight, thanks to a bad night of sleep the previous evening. Before the movie even starts, you’re wrapping yourself in the soft throw from your room and curling up, pillowing your head on the arm of the couch.

“I didn’t realize I would have such riveting company this evening,” says Loki dryly.

You roll your eyes and stretch obnoxiously, purposely shoving your feet into his lap. “I was up ‘til three this morning, give me a break.”

“Surely you need your full wits about you to appreciate the nuance of this fine cinema.”

He’s being sarcastic; you decide to ignore it because that will annoy him the most. You stifle a yawn and give him your most beatific smile before hunkering back down under your blanket. Loki grumbles something indeterminate, but he doesn’t shove your feet off his lap—in fact, he drapes his arm over your ankles like it’s not a big deal at all.

This simple gesture warms you from the inside out and sends a flurry of butterflies fluttering through your stomach. You are pretty sure nothing is going to come of it—stuff like this has been going on for months and nothing has happened—but it’s still nice. You have no idea what it means, but it’s nice.

You’re not entirely surprised that you fall asleep during the movie—you are tired and while you don’t necessarily want to admit that any of Loki’s cinematic complaints have merit, the movie really wasn’t very good. Between that and your cozy blanket, it’s a recipe for an unintentional nap.

It’s dark when you wake up. You don’t really remember falling asleep, though you think it must have been about halfway through the film, based on the last hazy bit of dialogue you can recall.

You certainly don’t remember Loki sliding over on the couch to join you. But here he is, spooned up against your back, arms snaking around your waist, and the blanket tucked neatly over the two of you.

It’s dark and quiet and his breath is warm and even against the back of your neck. You’re reasonably certain that he’s asleep, though you wouldn’t necessarily bet money on it.

You consider your options. You probably should get up before someone wanders in and finds you like this, but…you don’t want to. You are wildly attracted to Loki—there’s no denying that—and the feeling of his strong arms wrapped snugly around your waist and the warmth of his broad chest pressing against your back is far too intoxicating to give up, even though you’re currently tangled up with him in a common area.

Still…you’re not entirely sure what to do about this. At some point, you’ll both need to go to your respective beds. Pretending to be asleep when he wakes is almost certainly not an option—he’ll somehow know that you’re faking and he’ll absolutely call you out on it, which will make the whole thing worse. Going back to sleep is tempting, but it presents its own set of risks.

But then…why did he curl up with you like this? Surely he wouldn’t have done this if he didn’t find you appealing in some way. Maybe you don’t actually need an exit strategy? Maybe you can just enjoy it. You’re a bit too comfortable, sleepy, and distracted to think properly, anyway. You allow yourself to relax further into his embrace.

And then you feel his cock twitch against your ass.

It’s almost impressive how quickly your body shifts from content and pleasantly sleepy to wide awake and intensely aroused. Somewhere in the back of your mind, there’s a calm and rational voice saying you’re being ridiculous, but this is easily drowned out by the growing ache between your thighs.

You press your thighs together and try to take slow and even breaths, but it doesn’t really help. If you weren’t sure what to do before, now you’re at a complete loss. The safe assumption would be to chalk it up to biology and timing and move on, but it’s really difficult to do that when you’ve been locked in this flirty back and forth with him for months and you want him as much as you do.

You feel him twitch again and you bite your lip as the ache between your thighs pulses in a kind of answer, the slickness growing. Your breath is quiet, but shallow, your heart thrumming in your throat.

You’re trying to keep perfectly still, but between your aching core and the slight kink in your hip from the way you’re positioned on the couch, doing so is easier said than done. You hold out for as long as you can before you give in and shift your hips slightly, trying to be as subtle as possible.

He stirs in his sleep and pulls you closer, his cock pressing hard against your ass. You’re not sure if he’s awake—his breath is still coming slow and even against the back of your neck—but you can’t quite suppress the way your own breath stutters in your throat when you feel him against you. 

God, you want him.

He flexes his fingers where they are splayed against your stomach. You feel the tip of his nose brush against the curve of your neck.

“Will you admit now that you want me?” he says. His voice is low and intimate and calls to mind dark silk and smoke.

“I didn’t know that you wanted me to,” you say, which is true—whatever’s been brewing between you has been subtle, more sidelong glances than lustful stares; you’ve never spoken about it.

“Don’t play coy with me, pet,” he says, his voice a soft growl against your neck. “I have enjoyed the chase, but I’ve no more patience for games.”

The slickness between your thighs increases at the slight roughness in his voice. His lips graze the shell of your ear and you let out a sharp breath.

“Admit it.” He catches your earlobe between his teeth and gently sucks it into his mouth.

“Fuck,” you gasp, your back arching slightly against him.

“In due time,” he says, his hips pressing back against you. “Answer me first.”

You roll over so that you’re facing him. The sharp, angular planes of his face are flattered by the faint, moody blue light from the sleeping city outside. He stares openly, brazenly, at your lips, his hand resting on your waist.

“What happens if I do?” you ask.

He gives you a wolfish smile and his hand strokes down your waist to your thigh. He pulls your leg up and over his hip, drawing you toward him so that his cock presses against your clothed heat. You have to bite your lip to hold back a moan, but you’re pretty sure he catches the slight hitch in your breath.

“You’re a clever girl,” he says, “I’m sure you can work it out.”

When you’ve thought about this moment before—and you’ve admittedly thought about it a lot—you’ve always imagined yourself smirking right back at him, meeting his clever quips with barbs of your own until he’s forced to admit how much he wants you. But you’re not quite prepared for the way that your brain abruptly short circuits at the feeling of his thick, hard cock pressing against your clit through the thin fabric of your leggings or how his gaze is a thousand times hungrier in the dark than it was in your imagination. It feels thrilling and sexy being here with him like this, tangled up in the dead of night in the middle of the common area. Clever quips and keeping him hanging seem like an impossibility several times over.

He seems to sense that your resolve is faltering because his hand slides to your lower back and he rocks his hips against you ever so slightly, giving you just a taste of that beautiful friction.

“Admit it.” It’s not a question this time and a pleasant shiver runs up your spine.

You lick your lips. “I—I want you.”

His smile is like sin. “Good girl.”

You’re practically trembling with want when he kisses you, so slow and sensual that it makes you whimper when his tongue strokes past your lips and into your mouth.

He moves in a languid, almost lazy way that makes you dizzy with need. He’s completely unhurried, but there’s a tension in his body that tells you he’s barely holding back, that he wants you a lot more than what he’s saying.

You almost don’t notice his hand sliding from your back to your hip and then ghosting along your stomach until he slips it under the band of your leggings.

“How much do you want me?” he asks as his fingers trail lightly along the fabric of your underwear.

“You can’t tell?” you ask, trying and mostly failing to keep your voice level.

“I like to be certain,” he says.

“You just like hearing me say it,” you say.

His eyes glitter as his hand slips under the elastic of your underwear and slowly creeps downward. “And why shouldn’t I like hearing you tell me how much you want me?”

“I—” His hand is so close to where you need him. He runs one finger right along the edge of your slit and your breath catches. “I—I don’t…”

He raises an eyebrow expectantly. “You don't…?”

“I…” Your mind is blissfully blank and every fiber of your being is focused on his hand and your aching clit. “I—I don’t…remember the question.”

You think you must have surprised him a little because he laughs in a way that makes his eyes light up, even in the moody blue half dark of the room. But after a brief moment he refocuses and his fingers slowly part your dripping folds and finally stroke your throbbing clit.

“Oh fuck,” you breathe, a moan catching in your throat.

“As I thought,” he tuts. “You’re desperate for it, aren’t you?” You nod and he makes a scolding sound. “Say it. Tell me what you need.”

You can feel your cheeks heat, which is ridiculous given that he’s got his hand down your pants. You lick your lips. “I need to come.”

“And what do you want me to do about that?” His fingers circle your clit lightly and retreat.

You shiver, your hips rolling forward, searching out his fingers. “Touch me.”

“How?”

You bite back a whimper as his fingers trace a circuit around your clit, avoiding your obvious need. “Please, Loki.”

“I need you to be more specific, darling,” he purrs. Your hips roll forward and he retreats again.

“You know what I want,” you say.

His smile is sharp. “Have we not established that I like hearing you say such things?” His fingers bypass your clit again. “Tell me how you want me to touch you. Tell me what you want.”

Your pride—or what remains of it—has slowly eroded to nothing. You lick your lips. You need him.

“I—I need you to touch me,” you say again. “I want you to rub my clit until I come on your fingers.”

His smile is vulpine but his fingers finally roll over your clit, lightly circling it. You breathe out, your hips rocking with his hand.

“Absolutely drenched,” he murmurs. “You’re a proper mess, my love.”

“It’s because you’re such a fucking tease,” you say, your hands sliding up to grip his shoulders.

His eyebrows rise. “I’m a tease? Am I not giving you everything that you asked for?”

“After amping me up,” you retort.

“And I’m taking care of that now, aren’t I? I’m touching you just like you begged me to.” He changes the movement of his hand slightly, fingers rolling across the most sensitive part of your clit. You suck in a deep breath and his eyes darken as he readjusts his hand to hit that spot again. “And you obviously like it. I daresay you need it.”

Your head tips back as your hips rock with his hand. You can feel your orgasm beginning to build and for the first time, it occurs to you that you are doing this in the middle of a common area. Reluctant as you are to stop, you can’t help but think it might be best to relocate.

“Should—fuck, yes, just like that—should we go back to your room? Or mine?” you manage to gasp.

“I don’t see why that’s necessary.”

“S-someone might hear,” you gasp as his fingers massage your slick and swollen clit.

The white of his teeth flashes in the dark as he continues to touch you. “Then I suggest you keep quiet,” he says, his voice rough.

You manage to raise an eyebrow. “You don’t want to hear me?”

Another sharp smile. “Later.” His eyes darken. “You’ve kept me from my prize long enough. I rather think you’ve earned this little game.”

“I thought you had no more patience for games,” you manage to say.

He smiles and it occurs to you that he likes it when you talk back, perhaps just as much as you enjoy him putting you in your place. “Oh, I think I rather like this game,” he says, his fingers suddenly slowing, but still exerting a firm pressure on your clit. “How hard will you come for me? How quiet can you be?” His eyes darken again. “Or perhaps you don’t want to be quiet. Perhaps you want to be heard. Perhaps you want the others to know exactly what I’m doing to you.”

You shudder despite yourself.

“Wicked girl,” he murmurs appreciatively. “Letting me touch you out here in the open like this. Anyone could walk in here and see.”

“You’d really let that happen?” you ask. “I didn’t take you for the type who likes to share.”

The hunger in his eyes increases tenfold and you know this was the right thing to say. “Oh, I don’t share, darling. Especially not you.” He increases the speed of his fingers ever so slightly and your breath catches, the tension in your hips building. “Do you know how long I’ve waited for this? How many times I’ve thought about ravishing you until you forget every name but mine? How many times I’ve imagined you wet and begging for my cock?” His voice drops to a low rasp. “I have gone to bed hard and aching for you more nights than I can count.”

His words and his fingers are a wonderful and wicked combination. You reach for him, tangling your fingers in his ink dark hair and pulling him in to kiss you. He does, but with such a lazy restraint that you can’t help but whimper a little, trying to press yourself closer as your hips rock with his hand. You’re reaching the place in the lead up to your orgasm where you’re so desperate to come that you feel like you’d do almost anything. It’s a heady place, with an edge of danger and you think that Loki must have an inkling of it based on the way his eyes darken.

“Did you think of me like this? Did you touch yourself, imagining the feeling of my hands on your body?”

“I—”

He must catch the slight hesitation in your eyes because that firm authority returns to his voice. “Tell me.”

Panting, you nod and earn another one of those dark and hungry smiles.

“How many times did you make yourself come while thinking of me?”

You don’t know the answer to that. Partly because it was like…several times a week. For the last six months. At least.

“A lot,” you finally manage.

His smile is devilish as he kisses you. “You’re going to come at least twice as hard for me tonight.”

The muscles of your cunt clench tightly around nothing. You need him so badly. Have you ever needed anyone like this? You’re fairly sure you haven’t. You’re getting close, your hips rolling with the stroke of his hand.

“Tell me how much you need it,” he purrs. “Tell me how you need to fall apart on my fingers.”

“Loki—”

“Tell me.”

“Please—I’m so close—”

“Tell me and I’ll let you come. Be a good girl for me, darling, and I’ll give you everything you need.”

You gasp. “Fuck, Loki, I—fuck, I need to come—I need you—”

You’re not sure how he manages it—perhaps there’s some magic involved, perhaps it’s luck or skill—but you start to come the moment the words leave your lips. The edges of your vision blur slightly as your orgasm overtakes you, roaring up from your hips and bursting like fireworks in the night sky. You gasp, trying to hold in a moan, but a slight whimper escapes you before Loki’s mouth covers your own, claiming you in a hungry kiss. His hand is still moving, fingers still circling your clit.

“Oh, yes,” he breathes against your lips. “Oh that’s lovely.”

It seems to last a long time, drawing out in long waves that make your toes curl. He kisses you throughout, until you very nearly lose track of where you end and he begins. All the while, his fingers keep rubbing your clit, extending your pleasure and making you shudder.

You can feel his cock still pressing against your hip and you want nothing more than to take him in your hands and make him feel just as good as he made you feel.

“I want to touch you,” you say and you’re treated to another one of those hungry smiles before he starts undoing the fastenings of his trousers. His cock finally springs free and you suck in a deep breath. He’s big—easily the biggest you’ve ever had—and you can’t help the ache that courses through you.

It’s immensely rewarding hearing his breath hitch when you take him in your hand. You’re surprised by how warm he is—you’d expect a Frost Giant to run a little cooler, but he’s hot and throbbing. You stroke him slowly from base to tip, squeezing his shaft ever so slightly.

His head tips back and he lets out a very quiet groan before reaching to push your hand away. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment. “I’m sorry—” you start to say.

“I need you now,” he says, tugging your leggings and underwear down and off, his voice conveying both authority and desperation in a way that makes you ache.

He pulls you to him, drawing your leg up over his hip to spread you open. He rubs the tip of his cock along your slit, coating himself in your slickness and taking every opportunity to tease your clit.

He finally settles himself at your entrance and slowly begins easing into you.

He kisses you and it’s a good thing he does because you’re so slick and wound up that the dull, blunt stretch of his cock sliding inside of you unexpectedly tips you right back over the edge, pulling a soft moan from your lips as you come on his cock. You almost have a mind to be embarrassed—you’ve hardly begun and you’re already coming undone—but the feral glint in Loki’s eyes is enough to make you forget all about it.

“Like I said: you’re absolutely desperate for it, ” he says, pressing even deeper inside of you. “And you’re taking me so well.” He withdraws slightly and pushes forward again and you bury your face in his neck to hide your moan.

His fingers slide between your legs to find your clit. “I want to feel you come again,” he says, gently beginning to stroke you as he thrusts again. “You feel exquisite.”

It doesn’t take very long for him to build you back up—the steady thrust of his cock stroking your slick walls just right and his fingers expertly circling your clit is more than enough to take you there. It’s all so good and the way he’s kissing you is making you dizzy in the best way.

“I can feel you, darling,” he purrs in your ear. “Let go. Come on my cock like a good girl.”

With a few more thrusts, you do. You bury your face in his shoulder, trying to muffle your moans as much as possible.

“That’s it, yes,” he growls as he fucks you through the aftershocks. His brow is furrowed and his focus is intent and you can tell he’s getting close.

“Loki,” you breathe.

Even though he’s in the process of losing his composure, he still manages a wicked grin. “One more for me, love,” he rasps.

You’re not sure if you can manage another, to be quite frank. “Loki, I—”

“One more,” he says again, his eyes flashing. “One more and I’ll fill your tight, perfect cunt with my seed. One more and I’ll make you mine.”

His words send something electric and primal racing up your spine and quite suddenly, you find yourself hurtling toward the release you didn’t think you had in you. A choked whimper catches in your throat and you are trembling in his arms and with one last shudder, you come hard.

“Nearly there.” His words are punctuated by gasps, his hips never faltering in their rhythm.

His hips snap hard against you and he throws his head back, his face rapt in ecstasy, lost to a pure pleasure as he comes. He’s staggeringly beautiful in this moment and you’re filled with a feral kind of possessiveness—he is yours and you don’t want to share this moment or this feeling or this man with anyone else. It’s a startling thought—one you know that you know you’ll need to interrogate at some point—but you decide that it can wait until later. He starts kissing you and it nearly takes your breath away—it’s soft and tender and still so decadent it feels like it should be forbidden.

You want to stay in this moment with him, your legs wrapped around his waist, his cock still pressed inside of you, but you know it can’t last. Something in your chest aches as he pulls away from you, vanishes the mess and tucks himself back into his trousers. He slowly stands up and you suddenly feel so much colder than you were before.

But before you can start to wallow in that misery, he’s bending down and scooping you up into his arms, throw blanket and all.

Before you can even think to ask where he’s taking you, you’re in his rooms and he’s placing you gently on the bed.

“Oh, so now you want privacy,” you say as you watch him quickly strip off his clothes, your gaze lingering on every emerging detail like you’re a woman starved.

He smirks and joins you in bed, covering your body with his and kissing you deeply as he pulls off the rest of your clothes. The feeling of his bare skin on yours is so dizzying that it takes you a moment to realize that he’s hard again.

“Already?” you say with a disbelieving laugh.

His smile is sin dripped in syrup. “I am a god, pretty girl.”

The ache between your legs returns and he kisses you like he knows it.

“And this time,” he says, his eyes glittering with want, “I want to hear you scream for me.”

You are more than happy to oblige.

[galedekarios]

gale & karlach

i think out of all the dynamics between the companions, i've come to enjoy gale and karlach the most over my time with the game. karlach especially bc she's the only one who genuinely seems to care about and for gale.

she repeatedly checks in on him after the orb reveal and doesn't turn it into a joke about slurping carrots, or sipping wine, or wanting him to be gone entirely from the group.

not only does she advocate for him to stay three times, depending on which dialogue path you pick:

gale's background story reveal & the reveal about the netherese orb

Karlach: Come on. We all have our secrets - and our risks. If Gale leaves, we might as well disband completely. - Karlach: Absolutely. We're all risky in our own ways. We stick together anyway. Right? - Karlach: If having dangerous, otherworldly objects stuck in your skin is wrong, then Gale and I both have to go. We're not really splitting up, are we?

but she's also the only one who repeatedly asks him throughout the game how he is doing, to make sure how he's faring, both in general and with his debilitating condition:

act 2 - shadow-cursed lands banter

Karlach: Doing all right, Gale? Gale: Oh, you know... Still alive and kicking, despite being surrounded on all sides by an endless manifestation of darkness and decay... devnote: Almost with a sigh. That's just how things are - Grim humour to it. Karlach: I feel it too. Here if you need a pick-me-up.

act 3 - after mystra stabilised the orb

Karlach: How's the orb treating you, Gale? Gale: Oh, quite well as a matter of fact. Since it was stabilised, it's been humming along nicely. Gale: I have noticed one adverse side-effect. I seem to be losing hair in some, er, unexpected places. Karlach: I can only imagine.

i think it really bears repeating/stressing that no other companion does this. not one checks in on gale like karlach does, after his affliction has become known to his companions - with the exception of the protag potentially.

karlach also arguably has the strongest reaction in response to mystra's demands in act 2, showing again her care for gale, as well as her protective side:

Karlach: Aw, was that Gale's granddad? Player: That was Elminster Aumar - the most famous wizard in the realms. Karlach: Huh. Doesn't ring a bell. But all right! Must've had something important to say to Gale, if he came all this way. Good news, I hope. Player: I don't think it was. It turns out Gale has an explosive bomb in his chest - and Mystra has asked him to use it to blow up the heart of the Absolute. Karlach: Whoa, now. He's got a... well, I guess that would explain a little, but... Mystra... I mean, this is a lot to take in. Karlach: What's he going to do? - Player - Option 1: I think he's going to follow through with it. Karlach: Fuck me. There's devotion, and then there's stupidity. If the god of magic can't handle this without sacrificing Gale, she's no god at all. - Player - Option 2: I don't think he'd do that to himself, even if Mystra commanded it. Karlach: Good. I'm one hundred percent sure there's another way to bring down this cult. No true god would ask such a thing from her faithful. That's for certain. Karlach: Poor Gale. He must be in bits after hearing that. I'll distract him. Tell him I haven't read a book since secondary school, watch his face melt off. - Player - Option 3: I'm not sure. I think he's of several minds. Karlach: Well, tell him to pick the right one. Better yet, I'll do it. Fucking wizards, man! They always need help picking the simple, obvious option. Karlach: If Mystra can't think of another way to stop the Absolute than sacrificing Gale, she's no god worth worshipping. I'll say that to Gale - in, you know, gentle terms. - Player - Option 4: You know that bomb in Gale's chest? Mystra has asked him to use it to explode the heart of the Absolute. Karlach: She what?! Is she mad?! - Player - Option 5: Don't worry about it. Karlach: Karlach doesn't worry, she acts. So if Gale needs me, now's the time to tell me.

i particularly like that last response bc it really echoes throughout her relationship with gale ("karlach doesn't worry, she acts. so if gale needs me, now's the time to tell me.").

their banters are often playful, but also genuine. both karlach and gale tease each other, they joke with each other, showing how comfortable they are with each other despite their many differences, but there are also moments of understanding and care between them, allowing them to emphasise with each other:

Karlach: Man, it's good to be home. First round on who? Gale: She who thirsts buys drinks the first. devnote: Like it's a well-known saying Karlach: You won't pin me down with a rhyme, wizard! devnote: Jockeying with Gale (prob supposed to be Joking with Gale) Gale: She who declines gets the worst of the wines.

Karlach: Just when I was getting used to the sky again... Gale: Fear not, Karlach. Sun, moon and stars will still be there waiting for us. devnote: Reassuring Karlach: Meanwhile, this place is pretty spectacular, isn't it? Gale: No book or painting could ever do its strange beauty justice. But perhaps our stories might, when we return to the surface. devnote: Agreeing with Karlach, enjoying the sense of wonder as you explore

Gale: I've always felt flames to be a rather perfect expression of love, Karlach. Gale: Passionate, primal, capable of bestowing the most life-affirming comfort, or inflicting the profoundest damage. devnote: Listing the qualities of fire, Romantic, indulging in the poetry of the image Karlach: That's... pretty nice. Never thought about it like that. But now I will.

Karlach: Wouldn't mind a dancing axe of my own. Gale: A simple movement charm wouldn't be too hard to apply to such an object. I could conjure one up for you if you like? Karlach: Yes! I like! Gale: Very wel then. Once the city is saved, Karlach's Kinetic Cleaver will be first on my list.

Karlach: So, Gale - got any book recommendations for me?devnote: With concern Gale: You can read?! devnote: Taking the piss - knows full well Karlach can read, and that she's always claimed not to enjoy it Karlach: Very funny. Yes - I can read. School put me off big boring tomes. Sometimes I wonder what I'm missing. devnote: Friendly rather than flirtatious Gale: Say no more - I'll find the perfect book for you. I might even lend it to you from my library in Waterdeep. devnote: Jumping on the opportunity to give a book recommendation (a favourite hobby) Karlach: Ooh! Something with magic, please. And no devils.

even at his most vulnerable moments, karlach is there to support him:

before the stormshore tabernacle audience with mystra

Karlach: You can do this, Gale. And I'll be right here when you're done.

she allows herself to be protective of him and get angry on his behalf not after when it comes to mystra, but also when he is potentially kidnapped by orin:

karlach's reaction to gale being kidnapped

Karlach: That bloody freak won't get away with this. That's my wizard she took. And we're going to get him back.

once again, it's a good callback to her previous line: "karlach doesn't worry, she acts. so if gale needs me, now's the time to tell me."

she's willing to be needed by him - and he does need her. whether that is as a friend, or (if you chose to play so during an origin pt) as a romantic partner. it's a lovely dynamic either way.

[throughgoalsandbaskets]

TWST x OM! self-sware AUs where you end up in possession of a cursed phone you found at a pawn shop that looked in really good condition, but any game you get on it comes to life.

You're not really a huge gamer, especially due to having such a busy personal life, so you only got two games that you thought would be fun for the moments your social battery was down but you still craved an adventure or excitement. You take your friend's advice and get two different games: Twisted Wonderland and Obey Me! Shall We Date?

Things start off nice and simple, and after a while daily login rewards start to get better and better for both games, even if it goes unnoticed your friends don't get anything nearly as good as you have despite having played longer.

You begin to figure the games are just generous with certain things, after getting a rather impressive amount of gifts after certain events. Had it not been for one minor detail, you wouldn't have ever noticed anything at all off about the games.

The way your friends complain about certain in-game storylines or characters.

What do you mean that Belphegor's story after lesson 16 needed more growth? That it felt rushed into forgiveness? Was 7 lessons of tension resulting into a final thought out apology not at all cared about?

And Grim? What about Grim? Why are your friends so frustrated that he's supposedly so annoying at times? Did the several late night conversations throughout the books slowly revealing his abandonment issues and need to feel important to not be abandoned mean nothing to them?

And what's this about characters not having a live chatting feature? Or onto having 2 or 3 options for dialogue all leading to the same outcome?

[kcwriter-blog]

More thoughts on Solavellan

I started replying to a post about the psychological aspect of Solavellan because it was interesting, well thought out and I thought good points were made but it got very long, and I had new thoughts. I wanted to put them down. This is not a criticism of that post in any way, it’s good and I urge people to read it. I just see things differently.

The big problem I have with most takes on Solavellan is how they take agency away from Lavellan whenever Solas is mentioned. We have a woman who grew to be one of the most powerful leaders in Thedas but when we talk about her and her feelings, she suddenly becomes this naive child desperately in love with the man who broke her heart. I just don’t see it. I don’t see a relationship – no matter how intense – of a few months, defining her going forward. So, let’s look at it.

Solas and Lavellan do love each other deeply. We don’t hear Lavellan say I love you until the breakup scene and she never calls him vehnan until Trespasser. Obviously, that is, as with most things in the romance, because it was a rushed, late add to the game. But it is interesting.

People get on Solas’ case for not defining the relationship, but I would argue she isn’t in a hurry to define it either. Which is smart. They haven’t been together long and one, the other, or both of them could die.

It’s possible that Crestwood is the first chance they have had to talk about it. I’ve never liked the first dialogue option because Lavellan seems genuinely surprised that up until now, she doesn’t know what to call Solas. Which is silly. They have been exclusive for a few months now. They are in love. She’s been calling him something and my guess is it is vhenan (her heart, home). And Solas fully intends to have that discussion. He just gets cold feet because what he has to tell her isn’t something she is going to believe.

Moving on. The valleslin scene has had a lot posted about it and I don’t want to get into it. I think what’s important is not whether it is removed or not but the idea that Solas alone destroys her faith by telling her the truth. Did he hammer the final nail in the coffin of her faith? Yes, but a smart Lavellan has to be questioning everything already. Why? Because she met Mythal.

Even before she meets the head of her pantheon, she has been to the Temple of Mythal and learned a lot that differs from her people’s mythology. She learns that Mythal was murdered, not locked away. She learns that the Dread Wolf had no part in that murder. She sees a depiction of the Dread Wolf in an antechamber of the temple in a guard dog position which is weird. If she drank from the Well, she has a lot of ancient elven voices in her head telling her stuff. If she didn’t, she would have Morrigan telling her the same stuff.

She meets ancient elves. And those elves don’t see her or the Dalish as their own. Just as a reminder, Solas isn’t the only ancient elf to have feelings about the Dalish. Abelas is very pointed about saying Lavellan isn’t one of his people. Felassan makes fun of the Dalish. Mythal says “the People bend the knee to easily” in DA2. Heck, Felassan thinks more of the city elves than he does of the Dalish. Solas eventually comes around. It’s a grudging respect but he does allow that they have some good qualities.

Lavellan meets Mythal and Mythal isn’t exactly a nice person. She has chosen to possess the body of a human, not an elf. She never helps the elves. So, you have an elven goddess in diminished form running around helping human heroes but doing nothing for the people that pray to her. That must rock her world and her faith.

Her faith is already on the ledge by Crestwood. Solas possibly pushes it over. And he never would have told her if he hadn’t messed up and changed his mind about the other thing. It’s all impulsive. He isn’t thinking straight, just covering his ass and it hurts her. However, I think he still intended to carry on the relationship without telling her the truth. During the kiss, he finally realizes that if he loves her so much he almost told her everything, then not telling her is morally wrong and he comes up with a reason to end it.

After the breakup, Lavellan is hurt. It always hurts when someone breaks up with you. What hurts the most is knowing he still loves her. What also hurts is he won’t give her a reason. I don’t think she is questioning everything he told her at this point. He’s just the cold-hearted son of a bitch who broke her heart.

Most of us have been there. We’ve got breakup playlists, alcohol and friends to help get us through it. I usually imagine my Lavellan grabbing Bull, Dorian and Cole to help her take out her anger on a poor unsuspecting dragon. I also put off triggering the Wicked Grace game until after the breakup.

That doesn’t mean she isn’t angry or crying on Josephine’s shoulder. Of course she is, but she isn’t questioning her life choices. She could tell Solas to get lost, but she keeps him around. She is even kind to him when the Orb is discovered broken.

And everyone is kind of busy planning to find and finish Corypheus off once and for all. I see her putting a pin in it. Once they win, she will confront him and demand answers.

She doesn’t get the chance because he leaves without saying goodbye. That has to hurt. I don’t see her in a place where she could never trust anyone ever again. It’s more likely, she throws daggers at a drawing of him out in the practice yard. Even if she still loves him, she is an adult not a maiden in distress. As much as she loves Solas, her entire world does not revolve around him.

Solas made his choice. She may be concerned about him - especially after Cole’s cryptic message - but I don’t see her searching frantically for him. He knows where she is and can send her a message if he needs her.  

And she is busy. She must help clean up the mess Cory made. She has rifts to close. She has dignitaries to meet. She has paperwork. That doesn’t leave a lot of time for pining.

There is an idea that Lavellan is alone because all of her inner circle except her advisors go off and do their own thing. Except that isn’t true. They write letters – which you can find exploring the Winter Palace – in those letters some of them mention having visited or that they will visit. Lavellan is also capable of making new friends. She is not static.

Solas leaving her may still hurt. She may have (and probably did) tried to move on but so far no one matched him for any number of reasons. She is only alone in the sense that any leader is alone. What she probably misses the most about Solas is that he always treated her like a person, not an icon.

Then we get to Trespasser. If you have found all the clues for the secret dialogue option, she has figured out Solas is the Dread Wolf long before she confronts him. She has seen the murals, learned his story. She knows the Dalish got it wrong. She knows from experience that the Dalish get a lot wrong. And he’s Solas. She might not know him as well as she thought but she saw beneath his mask a little. She isn’t going to be afraid of this figure out of Dalish legend. Mostly she is going to be pissed because he didn’t tell her the truth, because he didn’t trust her.

As far as the arm thing goes. Weekes and Epler have said, he did not amputate her arm. Solas drew out the magic that was killing her. The arm disintegrated. It was already doing so by the time she meets Solas. If he hadn’t drawn out the magic, she would have disintegrated just like Solas’ friend Wisdom. I think arguments that she would have trouble trusting anyone based on this are a non-starter

Once all that is over, will Lavellan have a hard time trusting anyone? She will have a hard time trusting Solas. Who wouldn’t? Will it color her perception of anyone she might want to be romantically involved with? For a few years maybe but what are the chances she will fall in love with another god?

Trust isn’t just about people you’ve been romantically linked with. She still trusts her inner circle. They help her. A bad experience with one person, no matter how much she may love him, isn’t going to make her stop trusting people entirely.

Now apart from Solavellan, I’m pretty sure Lavellan is messed up psychologically. You can’t go through what she did and not be a little messed up. But it is that experience that may make her empathize with Solas and understand why he left her.

She knows what it is like to be a leader. Not in the sense of leading her clan but in the sense that her decisions have huge consequences. She knows how a leader’s decisions are always second guessed - like they are at the Exalted Council if you chose to exile the Wardens. She knows what it is like to have to step up and be the one to save the world. She knows that sometimes there are no good choices, and you do the best you can. She knows it messes you up and you can lose your way. Solas has lost his.

Is it ten times harder to empathize when you loved that person, and they destroyed your trust? Yes. Solas will have to win her trust back. She will view anything he says or does with suspicion, as anyone would. However, Solas rarely outright lies. She knows this. She will be asking a lot more questions and be paying more attention. She also knows that he didn’t lie about loving her.

Okay, but he is still planning to tear down the Veil so he must not love her very much. Her love moved the needle. He went from believing nothing was real to thinking everyone is real. Is it so hard to imagine that Lavellan thinks he can be reasoned with? I doubt she thinks her love alone will change him. That doesn’t mean she won’t want to try. That doesn’t mean she will want him back when it’s all over. It also doesn’t mean she is a quivering mess obsessing over their relationship.

Solavellan can be whatever you want it to be, based on your own experiences. For some it's an angsty story with a Lavellan pining for him. For others, she gets over it fast with Cullen's help. For me, she is a strong, proud woman who is able to use her own experiences to empathize with Solas and want to save him from himself. She may still love him, but that love has been tempered by her experiences with him. They will need to have a long talk if they ever meet up again.

[unseelie-grimalkin]

I'm going for gold, lads, lasses, and other gendered classes!

Do you like visual novels? Do you like stories about the fey? Do you like your entertainment as EDUTAINMENT?

IF SO, BOY HOWDY DO I HAVE A VISUAL NOVEL PROJECT FOR YOU.

The Good People (Na Daoine Maithe) is a lore-rich and choice-driven romantic visual novel inspired by Irish mythology. Play as an Irish tenant farmer from the mid-19th century, whose path becomes inexplicably entwined with fairy affairs after getting robbed by the roadside and lured into the mythic and war-torn world of Tír na nÓg: A once unified land, now divided into the Seelie and Unseelie Courts. Will you escape with your stolen belongings? Or does fate have something else in mind?

OKAY, BUT WHAT DOES THIS MEAN FOR YOU, SEEKER OF SEROTONIN?

6 wonderful romantic/PLATONIC options (each love interest can be pursued entirely platonically)

a visual novel whose philosophy is less on anxiety-inducing, arbitrary choices to get a good or bad ending, but instead focuses on if you, the player, are interacting with a character in a healthy or unhealthy manner, leading to player freedom and choice

intelligent and reflective writing that is reflected within character moments and dialogue

and MORE! (so much more!)

WHERE CAN I FIND MORE OUT ABOUT THIS GAME?

Here is the bio link, which has links for the indie developers' social media accounts (Tumblr, Twitter, Discord Server) along with the link to their official website, which has a deep dive into every main NPC and the philosophy of the game. The demo is out now and free on both Steam and Itch.io

(As an official statement: I am in no way employed or affiliated with Moirai Myths and I was not approached in any way to make this post. This is me being a feral fan on main, blazing this post)

EDIT:

HELLO EVERYONE! DID YALL KNOW THE KICKSTARTER FOR THIS GAME JUST LAUNCHED TODAY? NOW YOU DO! MORE DETAILS AND MORE FUN TO BE HAD!

They’re doing voice acting reveals this month, along with an early bird special to see blushing/flirty emotes!

EDIT THE SECOND:

WE HAVE REACHED FULL FUNDING WITH THE GAME! Which is excellent, because it means that my little hyperfixation is gonna be made!

However!

It would be very nice if we could reach some of the stretch goals (which go into depth here: x). Not only are they fun (MC customization, a switch port, expanded voice-over work, more sprites, mini-games, side stories), but I think they'd spark a lot of serotonin for folks playing (myself included).

If this post has interested you at all, please, please, please check out the Kickstarter above! Thank you!

EDIT THE THIRD

Since this is still getting notes beyond my wildest dreams:

Hello! It's been a while! The Kickstarter ended a bit ago (I did not update this post when it did end, due to being ecstatic to how much the project managed to get: 130% funding!), but development is ongoing and strong! The first two routes are in development right now. Please keep tuned at @moiraimyths for official development updates!

[lunastrophe]

Hello! I'm back! You know Minthara's dialogue about her ex-girlfriend, that House Vandree priestess? I have some questions, and I was hoping for your speculation. Thanks!

Why was Minthara ordered to kill her?

How did she poison her? I thought all drow are trained to NOT get poisoned.

Did a lot of people know about it?

What was their relationship like? It sounded... unusually healthy for drow. Until the murder part, of course.

And any other info you might have. Have a lovely day!

Hello and welcome back! 😊I have several theories about that Vandree priestess and about what their relationship might be like, so I will start from question number 4:

🕷️First Lover - Minthara mentions that high priestess of House Vandree, "beautiful, elegant, ruthless", was her first lover.

We know next to nothing about her, but she was obviously several (at least four, possibly even more) decades older than Minthara. She had apparently not only finished her training, but also obtained the title of high priestess - it usually takes some time for a female drow to reach this level.

As for Minthara, she was probably in her twenties back then, either preparing to enroll into the Academy or starting her education there.

🕷️Power Dynamics - House Vandree was only a minor noble house and could not compare to Baenre.

Still, Minthara's lover was older and more experienced than her, and she was also a high priestess - so it is a bit hard to say who had the upper hand in this relationship and to what degree.

Also, a wild thought - maybe Minthara's lover was one of her instructors at the Academy?

Minthara says: I had been sharing her bed, not "she had been sharing my bed" - it can imply that it was Minthara who was visiting her lover's bedroom, not the other way around. Sounds a bit strange for proud Baenre - but... in Arach-Tinilith, novices share rooms with one or two others for the first several years - so inviting a lover is not really an option. Older priestesses and instructors, though, have single rooms...

Minthara apparently admired her lover and even "adored her." There might be even some affection involved from her part: I stayed with her while the poison did its work, and whispered words of comfort as she slipped away.

Was that admiration / affection / fondness (sincerely) reciprocated? Perhaps - or perhaps not...

🕷️ How many people knew? - it really depends. If Minthara's lover was also her instructor from the Academy, I suppose that they might at least try to be discreet. In other case, I doubt that they would have that many reasons to keep their liaison a secret.

🕷️ Why Was Minthara Ordered To Killed Her?

1) Maybe the priestess attracted Minthara's attention for a reason - to achieve something, to obtain information, to get closer to House Baenre, perhaps? In sourcebook, it is mentioned that House Vandree was not very successful and was seeking protection of House Baenre, but Matron Mother of House Baenre was not eager to offer them any.

Maybe Minthara was ordered to kill the priestess to send the message - "Vandree, remember that we are not that close".

2) Maybe Minthara's family - likely her mother - decided that young Minthara starts to like her lover a bit too much, and it is time to remind her how things work among drow.

Youthful adoration is one thing, but blooming affection? Any Lolth-worshipping drow mother would start to worry about her daughter's reputation at this point. And about her lover's possible ulterior motives.

3) Maybe it was simply a test, of sorts, to see how young Minthara handles assassination orders, as well as separating her personal life from her duties. And House Vandree was in no position to retaliate, considering their situation, which was a nice bonus.

🕷️ Drow Poisoned? - drow may gain resistance to some poisonous substances, especially to the more popular ones, but not to every single one of them. Some poisons are very rare or simply very expensive, and / or they are not widely used.

Also, some poison recipes are probably being kept a secret. I imagine that inventing a new poison recipe now and then is one of the most important duties of drow alchemists working for noble drow houses. Poisons designed for specific individuals may be also a thing.

[flightlessangelwings]

Right Where We Belong

Loki x gn!reader

Word count- 3.7k

Dialogue prompt- “ you underestimate how much you mean to me. i wasn’t about to let them hurt you. and i certainly wasn’t about to let them even consider killing you. “ Action prompt-[ SECRET ]: sender, having been secretly following the receiver, saves their life from an immediate threat while remaining hidden from the receiver.

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), protective!Loki, mutual pining, harassment, kidnapping, minor character death offscreen, feelings, romantic s.ex, praise, takes place mostly in a woodsy/forest area but I left it open as to where in the world it is, pet names (lovely, darling), no use of y/n

Notes- For my Year of Protectiveness @yearofcreation2023 . I've actually had a rough idea of this story in my head for about a year it just took some time to flesh it out and get it right. For that reason too, there's no series spoilers and is ambiguous as to where it fits on the timeline so you can imagine whenever.

This can be read as a prequel to In My Arms (Over and Over Again) but it can be read on its own. That fic is one of my pride and joys though so I recommend reading it after this one! Enjoy!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is my update blog so feel free to also follow that and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on when I post new stuff!

~

Midgard… Earth. It was the last place Loki ever expected to find himself, let alone willingly. Yet, it was the last place anyone would ever think to look for him. So it’s where he found himself when he wanted to be alone, unbothered by any pressures that surrounded him.

Loki had no idea where on the planet he was, but it didn’t matter. The trees of the forest surrounded him and created a shelter of peace where he would just breathe. The warmth of the sun hit his skin, and the fresh air from the trees filled his lungs. It was refreshing. It was peaceful. It was everything he needed.

But, as he made his way through the forest with his eyes closed, listening to the sound of the birds around him, another sound made his eyes shoot open. The roar of a large animal snapped any notion of peace out of Loki’s mind as he found himself nearly face to face with bared, sharp teeth. He wasn’t worried, though, and he smirked as he brandished his dagger in his hand.

Just as Loki was about to attack, however, a voice from behind him made him freeze.

“Wait!”

Loki paused.

The voice continued, “It’s not aggressive, not really,” you were calm as you spoke, “Keep eye contact and back away slowly and it’ll leave you alone. There’s no need to kill it.”

Loki pondered his options. He could easily kill the beast and be done with it. But, there was something about your voice that swayed him, so he did as you instructed. Slowly, he stepped back, putting more distance between himself and the wild animal until it stopped growling and turned away. As it did so, Loki let out a deep breath. 

You also let out a sigh of relief as the tall stranger with black hair got closer to you, “She’s just defending herself,” you explained, “Must be a den or a nest around here somewhere. I bet she just had babies too.”

A smirk lit up Loki’s face, “Would you give that benefit of a doubt to anyone?” he asked as he turned to face you, revealing his face to you.

You gasped as you brought your hands to your face, “You’re…” your body tensed as you clearly recognized who you found in the woods, “Loki…”

“Would you have said the same thing if you knew who I was?” Loki challenged, yet no malice was heard in his voice, “Would you grant me the same courtesy?”

Silence filled the air between the two of you for several moments, the tension palpable. But, you exhaled, releasing the tension in your body as you did so, “I guess I would be a hypocrite if I said no, huh?” you said, trying to ease the tension.

Somehow, it worked, and it made Loki let out a genuine laugh. Something he hadn’t done in so long, and if he had to admit, felt nice. “What is your name?” he asked.

You told him. 

“Lovely,” Loki said genuinely.

It all blossomed from there. You and Loki fell into conversation easily and naturally, as if you had known each other for a lifetime. And the more time you spent in his presence, the more at ease you felt, not that you were scared of him in the first place. Nervous, yes, but Loki had a calming air about him, and something told you it was ok. And Loki, for one reason or another, felt comfortable around you. You had the same calming aura about you that Loki felt drawn to, and he found he actually wanted to stay and talk to you longer.

That never happened with anyone before… Loki wondered why that was. 

Before you knew it, the sun started to set, and you looked up with a gasp, “It’s getting late,” you breathed, “I…” you paused as you stared into Loki’s eyes, “I should go.”

Loki bid you farewell with a nod and watched you leave. And he already decided he was going to keep an eye on you until you were safe. He wasn’t going to let you know, though, and he stayed in the shadows, keeping watch over you from afar. And as he did, he couldn’t help but notice the new feeling in his chest. Sure, Loki had bedded princes and princesses, lords and ladies, and common men and women. But, you… you were different. And he couldn’t help the feeling of fondness towards you.

You seemed to know the path well, and you made your way to the clearing at the edge of the woods in no time. Behind you was the fantasy world, the forest, the place where your life just changed forever. In front of you was the real world, civilization, the daily grind. Taking a deep breath, you took the first step back into reality. 

But, as you started to leave, you suddenly found that you were not alone. A chill ran up your spine as a group of men whistled at you, and closed in on you quickly.

“Hey there sweetheart,” one of them grinned darkly.

You didn’t reply, but your hands shook as you looked around for an escape plan.

“Oh come on, don’t be like that,” another chimed in, “We just want to talk to you.”

A whimper escaped your lips as you hated the helpless feeling that came over you. But, a growl in the distance called all your attention, and everyone snapped over and saw a shadowy creature. All that was visible were glowing eyes and sharp teeth, but it was enough to scare the men away. You, on the other hand, backed away and tried to make yourself smaller in hopes that whatever it was would chase them, and you let out a heavy breath when you felt a rush of wind past you and heard a roar in the distance where the men ran off to.

You stood still for several moments as you processed what happened. For some time, you didn’t dare move, yet something within said you were safe. There was a familiar feeling around the air, as if you were being watched. Yet, you didn’t feel threatened like with the men who approached you. Looking around, you took one tentative step away from where you stood  in hopes of finding someone, yet you were alone. After letting out a deep breath, you turned and left, smirking to yourself; you had a hunch who was responsible for the shadowy creature that saved your life. After all, you did notice that the shadowy creature had bright green eyes.

In the shadows, Loki smiled with satisfaction.

*

One week to the day later, you found yourself back at the same spot. You weren't sure why or what you were expecting, yet you couldn’t help but find your way back there. The sun shone through the trees, warming your skin, and you felt at peace here.

“Well, it looks as if you and I had similar ideas, darling,” a voice chimed through the trees.

“Loki,” you breathed as you turned around and met his gaze. The tension you momentarily held in your shoulders melted away and you grinned widely, “Were you stalking me?” you asked cheekily.

“Never,” Loki replied, “It seems mere coincidence that we both came back to this spot on the same day.”

You gave him a pointed look, but the smirk never left your face, keeping the tone light.

“I promise,” Loki raised his hands in mock surrender, “I’ll never lie to you, my lovely.”

Your breath caught in your throat as the world around you suddenly felt hot, “I.. Uhhh,” you stumbled over your words, unsure of how to respond, “Thanks,” you decided on in a low mumble.

Loki returned the grin you gave him earlier, “Shall we sit, darling?” 

It turned into a routine for the two of you. Every week on the same day at the same time, you and Loki met in the woods. It was your escape from the world for both of you. It became a comfort for each of you to seek solace in the other. Although neither of you ever officially made plans, or said you’d be back the next week, you always were. 

For you, it was an escape from your life, from your stresses, to meet with Loki. And though you never thought you’d make friends with a Norse god, you were grateful for him. You tried to ignore the way your heart fluttered when you realized tomorrow was your meeting day, and you forced your heart to calm its wild beating as you stood in the woods waiting for him.

And as for Loki, he felt the same way. He never expected to find peace and solidarity on earth, and he certainly didn’t expect to fall… Loki laughed at himself, for so long he chastised his brother for loving someone from earth and here he was… They have more in common than Loki cared to admit. And he wasn’t ready to fully admit his feelings for you yet. They were there though.

Loki paced around the forest; it was unusual for you to not be there waiting for him. It was rare he felt nervous, but Loki couldn’t help the sinking feeling in his gut. Everything in him screamed that something was wrong, and after he waited long enough, Loki decided he was going to look for you.

And may the gods help if anyone hurt you…

*

You groaned as your body ached. The last thing you remembered was that you were on your way to meet Loki for your weekly rendezvous when you bumped into a group of men who looked like they were up to go good. You gasped and tried to run, but one of them grabbed you. You tried to scream, but no one heard you, and the last thing you heard before a cloth covered your face was, “Wrong place wrong time, sweetheart.”

And that was how you found yourself in a locked room tied to a chair, blindfolded and gagged. You wiggled in your binds as much as you could, but it was no use. They were tied too tight, and you had no idea where you were anyway even if you could break free. You didn’t even know what time or what day it was. And you whimpered softly when you realized that you would most likely never see Loki again…

Or so you thought.

Gunshots and screams from a distance called your attention and you snapped up to strain to listen. You faced where the source of the sound was, even if you couldn’t see anything. You didn’t dare move, however, since you had no idea what was happening. Were you going to be safe with whoever attacked the men who kidnapped you? Or would it be worse? You held your breath, pressing your lips together as you tried to calm your trembling hands.

The screaming went on for what felt like hours, and you could only imagine what the men were fighting in their last moments. Part of you didn’t want to dwell on it, but part of you had to have hope that whoever it was would be your savior. You never, however, expected to hear your name after the screaming stopped.

“Loki?” you whispered. When his voice called your name again, you shouted back, “Loki!”

The door burst open, and you heard Loki breathe your name in relief as he rushed over and untied you, “You’re alright, it’s me.”

“Loki?” tears filled your eyes as you were filled with disbelief that he was actually here. He actually came. For you. “You…?”

“I’m here,” he cupped your face, “Are you hurt?”

You shook your head as you felt your body tremble, “A little sore, but I’m ok,” you froze as you looked into his eyes and your heart skipped a beat at the look on his face, “Loki… You… You came for me?” your voice was shaky. 

Loki grinned, “Darling… You underestimate how much you mean to me. I wasn't about to let them hurt you. and I certainly wasn’t about to let them even consider killing you.”

Before you could stop yourself, you lunged forward and kissed him deeply. Your bodies smashed together as you pushed everything you had into him, clinging to him hard. You trembled as your emotions overwhelmed you and for a moment, you lost yourself into the feeling of Loki’s lips. It brought a comfort unlike anything you were expecting, and a lone tear fell down your cheek. But, then you realized what you did.

“I’m sorry,” you breathed as you tried to pull away, “I don’t know what came over me.”

Loki just mumbled your name as he cupped your chin and gently turned you so you met his gaze. There was a sure look in his eyes, and it told you everything you needed to know. This time, it was Loki who closed the gap between your faces, kissing you once more. His kiss was more tender, but very purposeful, and Loki wasted no time in darting his tongue past your lips.

You moaned into the kiss as you lost yourself in the emotions once more. For a moment, you forgot where you were as Loki became your entire world. Nothing existed beyond him and his kiss. And the taste of him was immediately intoxicating.

But, neither of you could stay like that forever, and after one last peck on your lips, Loki broke away. He stayed close to you, however, and his voice stayed low and soft and comforting, “Let’s get you out of here.”

Without a word, you nodded.

*

“Sorry it’s not much,” you stood nervously at your front door as you let Loki inside your place, “It must be completely different than what you’re used to…”

Loki caressed you as he reassured you, “It’s wonderful, darling,” he purred. Truthfully, he wasn’t even paying much attention to your place; Loki couldn’t take his eyes off of you.

Feeling his heavy gaze on you, you turned back from where your eyes wandered around the living space and you felt a tingle up your spine at the way Loki eyed you, “Loki…” you whispered. 

Time felt like it stopped as you stared into each other’s eyes. Your breath caught in your chest as you felt your heart pound. Between the way his hands cradled your form and the way he looked at you with those dark eyes, you knew exactly what Loki was thinking. And before you lost your nerve, you made your move.

You crashed yourself into him as you pressed your lips into his. Loki immediately yanked your close, his hands roaming up and down your sides as he deepened the kiss. Both of you moaned into each other as you savored the taste of the other. Heat rose in the room as passions erupted, and there was only one thing on both of your minds.

“Bedroom is this way,” you murmured, your tone low, “You want to…?”

“I thought you’d never ask, my lovely,” Loki smirked.

Sliding your hand in his, you led the way, and Loki kept a cheeky grin on his face as he waved his hand the moment you crossed into the bedroom. Suddenly, all your clothes were piled neatly on the dresser, his next to yours. Before you could react to his antic, Loki pounced on you, crashing both your bodies onto the bed.

You landed on your back with Loki overtop of you. You gasped as you found yourself in such a vulnerable position, yet you weren’t scared. You could never be scared of Loki. No, there was a different feeling that pulsed through your veins, and it made your body warm at the thought of what was to come. 

Loki hovered over you, his hands on either side of your body. As he trailed up and down your figure with his eyes, Loki felt his cock harden and his heartbeat quicken, “You are absolutely lovely,” he purred, “A decadence of perfection.”

All you could do was whimper as your mind went blank. No one ever whispered such sweet and beautiful words to you, or about you, before. Your hands roamed all over Loki’s bare chest, and you felt a rush of need between your legs as he groaned at your touch. “Please, Loki,” you whispered, “Don’t tease me right now.”

He smiled down at you as he caressed the side of your head, “Don’t worry, darling,” Loki’s tone was just as low as yours, “Let me show you how a god makes love.”

The moan you let out echoed in the room as Loki leaned in and attached his lips to your skin. With expert precision, he nibbled and licked and sucked at every spot that made you mewl, as if he had touched you a thousand times before. Loki groaned into your skin as he kissed his way across your chest before latching onto your nipple.

You arched your back, allowing Loki more access to your body as you dug into his shoulders. Your mind swam in pleasure as he swirled his tongue around your nipple, driving you wild. Bucking your hips into his, you murmured his name once more, begging him for more.

“I’ve got you, darling,” Loki hummed as he kissed his way back up your body, “Exquisite,” his voice was a low rumble that went right to your core. Loki noticed of course, “You like that, darling?” he asked, amused.

He didn’t give you the chance to properly answer as he rocked his hips against yours, dragging his cock between your legs. The action made you moan even louder and you dropped your head down onto the mattress. “Fuck… Loki…”

He exhaled sharply with a grin as he did it again, feeling a tingle up his down spine as he rocked himself against your body. But, as much as Loki wanted to prolong this, the way you cried out, and especially moaned his name, made him more impatient than usual. “Are you ready, darling?” he asked as he reached between your bodies and lined his cock up with your entrance.

“Yes,” you replied immediately, “Please, Loki.”

Loki groaned as he slowly pushed himself inside you, feeling your warmth engulf him. Both of you gasped loudly as he filled you inch by inch. You cried out as he pushed deeper inside you, and you wrapped your arms and legs around him as much as you could, holding him tightly.

Once Loki’s hips met yours, he immediately started a slow yet harsh pace. Skin slapped against skin as Loki drove his cock into you over and over again. Your mouth dropped open as the moans and cries flowed freely- music to his ears.

“That’s it, darling,” Loki purred, “So beautiful…” he mourned your name as he lost himself in you.

As Loki’s cock hit that one spot deep inside you, your eyes shot open and you screamed louder, “Loki! Fuck! Yes!”

He growled as he picked up his pace, aiming for that spot every time, “I’m close too, darling,” he groaned, “Fuck, you’re so lovely.”

“Loki…” you whimpered as you saw stars and felt your skin tingle.

It only took a few more thrusts for you to completely fall apart and you came with a loud scream. Your nails dug into his skin as your entire body trembled. Never in your life had you felt a pleasure like this, and it brought fresh tears to your eyes from the overwhelming sensations.

Loki groaned as he watched the spectacle you put on just for him. His arms trembled as he fought to keep himself overtop of you, not wanting to miss a moment of your climax. Although you couldn’t hear over your screams, Loki mumbled soft praises as you came on his cock. And he had never seen anything in the nine realms more beautiful than you were right there in that moment.

And that was when Loki couldn’t hold back any more. He came hard, his own orgasm overtaking his entire body. And Loki did something he had never done before in bed- he moaned your name as he spilled himself deep inside you. Tears of his own formed in the corners of his eyes as he gave one last thrust before he fell forward.

Heavy breaths filled the room as you both came down from your highs. Loki placed a series of feather light kisses on your skin wherever he could reach as he caressed your body tenderly. Once he gathered his strength, he carefully pulled out of you, kissing the side of your head as you gasped. Loki didn’t go far, though, and he settled in your bed with you gathered safely and secretly in his arms. Together, the two of you laid like that for several moments in a comfortable silence.

Until you broke it with a question that had been on your mind for some time, “Why me?” you asked. 

Loki grinned, “Remember the day we first met?” he paused as you nodded, “You can see beyond what’s in front of you, and that, my lovely, is a rare occurrence in the universe,” Loki cradled you in his arms as you let out a deep breath, “Sleep now. I’ll watch over you. You’re always safe with me.” He placed a feather light kiss on your head.

“I know I am,” you yawned contently, “Loki I…” you fell asleep mid thought.

Loki watched you for some time as he whispered to your sleeping form, “I’ll protect you, darling. No one will ever harm you again, I’ll make sure of it.” 

As Loki watched you sleep, he noticed that the beat of your heart was the exact same rhythm that drew him to earth time and time again. It was like a siren song that called out to him although neither if you were aware of it. Was it soulmates, as your people would call it? Perhaps… but Loki was never one to believe such fables… until now. He smirked to himself before he fell asleep in the last place he expected. But it was right where he belonged. And you were right where you belonged: safely in his arms.

[explodingchantry]

Anders isn't my problematic fave because he isn't problematic. I think the wider concept of anders being 'wrong' the fandom has is a clear example of how biased the writing has been in the games. It's the same reason why people hate Jowan, or why they think the kinloch hold mages were stupid. There's a clear bias in the writing and framing of it all that guides the player towards feeling negatively.

The majority of answers you can give Jowan in Dao are negative, mocking, or downright insulting. The ones who aren't are just... Neutral. You can be a bit sympathetic to him in the circle origin but by the time you meed him in redcliff most of your dialogue choices are so fucking mean. In my replay I was trying desperately to be nice and sympathetic to him but the best you can do is be neutral and let him go but for every rude dialogue option there is no "you've been through something horrible, I'm sorry" or "you were manipulated, loghain took advantage of your vulnerability, I'm sorry" it's soooooo.

Likewise, I always make sure to speak to every single npc in the mage origins and the One mention of uldred before the broken circle quest is from the one mage who tells you about the different political faction enchanters are in, and it's with absolute disdain. That mage thinks uldred is annoying and it's implied that the other enchanters think so, too. Uldred who was an activist for mage liberation is treated as annoying for being an activist.

Then he turns out to be a blood mage and to have killed the majority of the circle, turning them into abominations. The message is clear: those who seek liberation are wicked. In the first game of the series, thus in the game which introduced the concept of circles at all, their existence is justified by the text. It overtly says: look at all those foolish mages, how dangerous they can be when One of them is wicked. Can you imagine if they were free? Can you imagine those abominations' destruction if they were out in the open?

Something similar happens in the mage origin, with Jowan. Through the whole origin, whilst Jowan is painted as annoying, he's definitely seen as a victim. Up until he uses blood magic, that is. Suddenly, the player is likely supposed to think "oh, so they were right to want to make him tranquil after all". Instead of being a way to show that the circle will often turn innocent mages tranquil, it shows you that greagoir was right to distrust Jowan, because he was indeed a blood mage. Instead of showing you how paranoid those in power are about mages, the writing justifies their fear and hatred.

Bear in mind this is the first game and likely the very first thing that happens to a lot of new players. The game does not expect you to know the intricacies of its lore yet, doesn't expect you to understand that blood magic is actually fucking neutral unless you sacrifice people for it. You might be tempted to argue that it's setting up for that realisation later and for you to feel bad about Jowan later, realizing he was led to blood magic because it was his only solution, because he and all other mages are caged like dogs (except this is ferelden, so the dogs are better treated than them). But then you've got the redcliff fiasco where it's obvious the writers expect you to fucking hate his guts

And while dragon age 2 is more overt in its depiction of mage suffering, it also tries to pass on the idea that kirkwall is a special case, that it's only the gallows that are this bad. That it's just Meredith whose craaazeyyy 🤪 and not just Meredith being a product of a corrupt system. The writers expect you to think of Anders as an unstable extremist, or as his writer puts it, a "bipolar terrorist" (note that ofc there's nothing fucking wrong with being bipolar, but I don't think his writer cares!)

With different writers and the exact same set of events, Anders blowing up the chantry would be easily recognized as a positive, as an act of justice, of rightful rebellion. Instead it's seen as a tragedy, a mistake. Instead Anders is categorized as a villain, morally grey even though Hawke themselves has a higher death toll than he ever will.

It's a lesson, I think. In narrative bias.