#but only one of them thinks the other is their enemy

[azzibuckets]

worth the wait part one

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

a/n: happy pride! here's part one of a new series of pazzi enemies to fwb to lovers. feel free to let me know your thoughts, and live reacts are always greatly appreciated!

word count: 4.3k i believe

wtw masterlist

2018 - Minsk, Belarus 

Clang.

The ball spins pathetically around the rim once, twice, before falling desolately to the side. Azzi fixes her eyes on the floor as she jogs to rebound it, refusing to meet the the stare of her coaches. It’s her fourth miss in a row, and usually she’s able to shake it off and focus on the next shot if it weren’t for the cocky, arrogant, blonde headed bitch—that shouldn’t be so good at basketball but somehow fucking is—snickering behind her.

“Fudd, I think you’re supposed to be aiming for the net,” the blonde in question says under her breath, glee written across her face before she dribbles the ball between her legs, steps back, and shoots it so cleanly that it falls through the net without disturbing a single thread. 

Azzi grits her teeth, trying to resist the urge to chuck the basketball at Paige’s smirk. But not wanting to get benched by her coaches that are always droning on and on about sportsmanship and supportive team culture, she settles for a hard shoulder check instead, sending Paige wincing and grabbing her arm like the typical drama queen that she is. 

Azzi rolls her eyes. Usually she’s all for teamwork and bonding and all that sappy crap, but she’s also never been on the same team with a girl whose sole intention seems to be pressing on every one of her nerves until she explodes. “Fuck you, Bueckers.”

“I mean, geez,” the blonde wiggles her eyebrows, her smirk widening from cheek to cheek. “Get in line.”

“I wouldn’t touch you even if you paid me a million dollars,” Azzi mutters, shuddering at the thought of even hugging her.

“I don’t know,” the older girl drawls. Her fingers graze across Azzi’s shoulder, sneaking under the cloth of her jersey to brush over the ridge of her muscle. “You feel pretty tense.” She trails her hand slowly down her arm. “If you ever need some stress relief, you know where to find me.”

“Don’t touch me,” Azzi snaps, jerking away. Paige only winks before jogging to catch up with the rest of the team as they break on the bleachers. Cheeks turning pink, Azzi groans and stomps away.

From day one, Paige has been like that: flirtatious, easy-going, charming. Everyone on the team had naturally gravitated towards her last season—that is, everyone but Azzi, if you don’t count the first week that they’d met. During tryouts, she’d been mildly intrigued by how a bone-skinny white chick was crossing over the most seasoned girls on the team, and when Paige had nodded coolly at her and they’d had a brief conversation, that intrigue had turned into interest. The way Paige had looked at her, had sidled closer and whispered a joke in her ear, had made Azzi feel seen on a team full of players so much older and experienced than she was. But to hell with that, Azzi thinks. Because since then, she'd gotten to know Paige for who she really is, and the older girl is nothing but a self-conceited asshole.

༉‧₊˚✧

“I don’t know,” Sam Brunelle says, taking a slow sip of her water. “I think she’s pretty hilarious.”

Azzi stabs a piece of broccoli with her fork. “She’s immature,” she corrects. “She makes fun of people and she can’t go one goddamn minute without making a stupid yo mama joke.” 

“I mean, yeah, I guess she likes to have a lot of fun,” Sam relents. “But she keeps the team light-hearted. I think that’s pretty important.”

“You don’t know what it’s like,” Azzi fumes. Paige has always been supportive of everyone else on the team, cheering them on from the bench or hyping them up after big games. Azzi, on the other hand, has never received the same treatment. Their history is a bitter war of sharp elbows and sneers; she can't even remember the last time Paige had said something remotely nice to her. “She leaves you alone, but she’s always messing with me.”

Sam, one of the oldest on the team and ever the wiser, tilts her head to study the dark haired girl carefully. “I think she’s always messing with you ‘cause you’re the only one that doesn’t like her.” She shrugs. “Maybe she cares about your opinion.” She leans in closer with a conspiratorial whisper. “Maybe she wants to be friends.” She utters the last word like a bad word, and Azzi rolls her eyes and throws a crumpled up napkin at her. Sam breaks out in laughter at the look of disgust on the younger girl’s face.

Azzi’s about to respond when she’s interrupted by a tray dropping loudly on their table. The devil herself plops down in one of the seats, stretching out her legs as if she hadn’t just rudely cut off their conversation. Then she has the nerve to blow out a long, tired sigh, as if she’s doing them a favor, gracing the two girls by just being there. Azzi’s jaw tightens in exasperation, but Sam is all sunshine and smiles. “Hey, P,” she grins, dapping Paige up.

Azzi glares down at her plate, trying to ignore Paige breathing heavily next to her. Maybe if she pretends that she doesn’t exist, the blonde will finally leave her alone. 

But panting and breathing get louder and louder, and Azzi swears she can feel it hot on her cheek. Snapping her head, she turns face to face with Paige, who’s looking over her shoulder—way too close for comfort, has she ever heard of personal space?—with twisted lips and furrowed eyebrows. “Yo, that shit looks nasty,” Paige says, eyes trained on Azzi’s plate.

“Ugh, get away from me,” Azzi complains, roughly pushing her away. Her heartbeat, having quickened from their proximity, begins to slow down, but her body physically recoils. “And it’s called vegetables, Bueckers,” she adds flatly. “Maybe you should try eating healthy for once too.”

Paige sits back in her seat, clearly pleased from her knack of getting a ruse out of Azzi so easily. Pointing her fork at her pasta, she says, “Carbs,” then at at her corndog and says, “Protein,” and then at the dollop of ketchup on her plate and says, with an overly pleased smile, “Vegetables.”

Sam immediately cracks up as if Paige had made the funniest joke in the world. Azzi stomps on her foot under the table. “Your eating habits are gonna catch up to you one day,” Azzi sniffs, shoving the last of her broccoli into her mouth, hoping she can get the meal over with as quick as possible so she can hide in her room, away from annoying blondes that breathe too loud and give unwarranted, wrong opinions.

“Until then, I’ll still be breaking your ankles,” Paige grins, clearly referencing the moment in practice earlier that day where Azzi had tripped over her own feet in an attempt to defend Paige’s drive to the basket. She’d been so angered by the pure confidence on Paige’s face and the trash talk in her ear the entire scrimmage, that everything she’d learned about lateral footwork had flew out of her mind as she’d fallen on Paige and even fouled her in the process. 

“God, you’re insufferable.” Azzi gives Paige the dirtiest look she can manage. “Who even invited you to sit with us?”

“What, I need an invite to bond with my teammates?” Paige leans over again, shoulder poking into Azzi's as she reaches over her to snatch the garlic bread from her plate. “You don’t mind, right? Since you got your veggies and all?” Before the younger girl can even blink, the garlic bread is stuffed inside her mouth, and Paige starts chewing loudly without breaking eye contact with Azzi. Sam snorts in disbelief. 

“Oh my god!” Azzi stands up, cheeks reddening with anger. “Are you actually a child?” Pushing her chair back loudly, she leaves the dining room in a storm.

Sam winces. “Are you trying to kill her?”

“Not my fault she gets all hot and bothered just like that.” Paige wipes a crumb from her lip, napkin falling away to reveal a satisfied smile. 

Sam shakes her head knowingly. “You like it.” She’s known both of the girls for more than a year now, and by now she’s used to the fact that they have their own dance. It’s weird, and they have a funky sort of chemistry that they’ll both probably refuse to ever address, but it makes for some good drama, Sam thinks. 

Paige snorts. “No, I don’t. People that uptight need to loosen up every once in a while. It’s good for them.”

“It’s okay to admit that you like seeing her get flustered.” Sam nudges Paige’s arm, a twinkle in her eye. “For someone who claims to hate her, you talk about her an awful lot.” 

“Nah, shut up Sam.” Paige stands up abruptly, moving to grab her finished plate. 

“You want me to shut up?”

“Yes,” Paige grunts, pushing her chair in. 

“So I guess you don’t want me to tell you about the room assignments?” 

Paige freezes. Turning around slowly, she glares at the taller blonde. “What room assignments?”

Sam takes a piece of paper from her pocket. “Oh, nothing,” she says airily, waving it. “Just that you and Azzi are rooming together tonight.”

“What?” Paige grabs the paper from Sam, scanning it anxiously. True enough, it says Room 310 - Paige Bueckers, Azzi Fudd. “But I thought I was rooming with Hailey!”

Sam beams. “I guess the coaches changed their mind.”

“No.” Paige paces around, gripping the paper so tight it turns into a ball in her hand. “I can’t room with Fudd. She probably sleeps with a stick up her butt too!” 

“She’s not that bad, P,” Sam defends. “You guys are more alike than you think.”

“I’m not bossy, or a party pooper, or incapable of having any fun,” Paige shoots back, offended that Sam would even liken her to someone who doesn't think yo mama jokes are funny. Because who doesn't think yo mama jokes are funny?

Sam shrugs. “I’m just saying. You guys have an awful lot of assumptions about each other. Maybe if you actually spent some time together, you’d change your mind a bit.”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Paige scoffs, even though it makes total sense. But she’s never really been logical when it comes to Azzi, and she’s not about to start now. “Whatever. I’m gonna go check on the room and make sure she doesn’t have her hands all over everything already.”

Raising an eyebrow, Sam watches her go too. 

When Paige reaches the room, she takes second to square her shoulders and catch her breath. Azzi has a way of makes her upset like no one else can, her heartbeat always skyrocketing and chest heaving after their arguments. But she needs to control herself, to uphold the facade of unbotheredness. Taking a deep breath to calm herself down, she slides her key card over the lock and opens the door with a swing. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” Azzi’s jaw drops, the halfway folded shirt in her hand dropping on the bed.

“Surprise.” Paige smirks. “Hey, roomie.”

“Nuh uh.” Azzi massages her temples, panic embedded in the lines of her eyes. “This is not happening right now.”

“I know.” Paige closes the door with her foot and drags her suitcase and duffel bag in. “Too good to be true, huh?”

“I thought I was rooming with Sam!” Azzi says indignantly. 

“And I thought me and Hailey were gonna be together,” Paige grumbles. “Trust me, I don’t wanna be here any more than you do.”

Azzi flops back on the bed, groaning, and Paige freezes when her shirt slides up to show the tan skin of her abs, muscles flexing as she reaches to grab a pillow. Swallowing hard, she forces her eyes away. Now was not a good time to be admiring the body of her sworn enemy, no matter how good she looked. “I can’t room with you,” Azzi repeats. 

“Yeah, well.” Paige tosses her backpack on the armchair and starts unzipping her suitcase. “It is what it is.” She starts rummaging through her clothes, a pile of USA gear and Hopkins hoodies slowly starting to form next to her as she searches. 

“What are you doing?” Azzi asks, stunned by how the blonde has managed to make a mess of their room in a mere two minutes.

“Deciding my fit for tomorrow.” Paige scrunches her eyebrows as she looks between two blue shirts, both exactly the same except one slightly darker in shade. “Gotta look good for the ladies.”

“Paige, you wear the same thing every day.” Azzi stuffs the pillow over her face in an effort to suffocate herself and end this nightmare. “The color and pattern doesn’t matter when it’s still shirts and sweats.”

“It’s cute that you pay so much attention to what I wear,” Paige says, “But I actually brought jeans and flannels this time. So yes, it does matter.” 

“Whatever.” Azzi gets up and heads for the bathroom, kicking aside a neon green hoodie in her way. Paige yelps, reaching for the ugly piece of clothing and cradling it in her hands. “Don’t make a mess. I’m gonna take a shower, if you know what that is.” 

Paige narrows her eyes, bringing the hoodie closer to her chest. “Don’t leave your products out, or I’mma use all of them.”

༉‧₊˚✧

Paige wakes up before her alarm clock. Sun streams in through the windows, casting a golden haze on everything in the room, including the girl asleep on the bed beside her. She’s snuggled into a pink blanket that she’d brought from home, lips slightly parted as quiet snores come from her mouth. She looks soft, vulnerable, her guard down in a way Paige has never seen before. 

Her mouth goes dry for a second, and she doesn’t know why. Shaking her head at herself, Paige stares up at the ceiling. The team has film before breakfast, then a workout, followed by recovery, lunch, more film, evening practice, and team dinner. It’s a packed day, and Paige already feels the lethargic pull of sleep from just sitting in the warmth of her sheets. Forcing herself out of bed, she begins to get ready.

It’s ten minutes to nine, the time they’re supposed to meet, when Paige is about to head out the door. Azzi is still fast asleep, and for a second she considers being nice and shaking her awake. But then she remembers Azzi calling her insufferable yesterday, and snickering to herself, she leaves. That girl has never been late to a single workout; it would do her some good to be humbled every once in a while.

Their coach is drawing out a play on the whiteboard next to the TV when Azzi runs in, out of breath, curls a mess and eyes anxious. “I’m so sorry,” she pants. “I slept in.”

“Get in your seat, Fudd."

Azzi looks around the room frantically. The nearest empty seat is next to Paige, damn her, and she’s sure her already annoyed coach wouldn’t appreciate her wasting even more time searching for another seat, so she sidles over and sits down resentfully. 

“Morning, sunshine,” Paige whispers from the corner of her mouth. 

Azzi sniffs suddenly, smelling a whiff of something familiar. Eyes narrowing, she leans in closer and takes another inhale to be sure. “Is that my shampoo?” she whispers angrily. 

“Coconut with a hint of hibiscus and honey?” Paige shrugs, trying to fight back her laughter. “Perhaps.”

“I told you not to touch my products!”

“And I told you that I’d use them if you left them out, so.” Paige continues sketching in her notebook, not bothering to even look over at Azzi.

“You don’t even have curly hair,” Azzi says scathingly. 

“Oops,” Paige says, not looking very sorry at all. “Maybe I shouldn’t have used your conditioner too then.”

Azzi makes a mental note to pack away all her shower products later. Her roommate is actually deranged. “And why the fuck didn’t you wake me up?” she hisses. 

“You were too deep in your beauty sleep.” Paige side eyes her. “Doesn’t seem like it worked, though,” she adds, knowing full well that she’s lying. Paige may be a hater, but she's still gay, and much to her chagrin, Azzi, despite frizzy hair and bags under her eyes, is admittedly pretty.

“I thought teammates were supposed to have each others’ backs,” Azzi grits out.

“I guess you have a point.” Paige shifts her notebook within eyesight of Azzi. “You can copy my notes.”

“Really?” Azzi, stunned by her sudden kindness, huddles in to squint at the paper. Her face falls when she realizes that the only thing on the sheet is a big dick, with even bigger balls. And hair.

“You’re an asshole,” Azzi says, slightly embarrassed that she'd thought Paige could even be capable of being nice for a single second.

“Not a dick?” Paige can’t help it. The opportunity was just too good to pass up.

Azzi doesn't speak to her for the rest of the day. 

༉‧₊˚✧

They win their first game, blowing out Italy 86-48. Paige is giddy, having finished with a solid 12 points and 5 assists, and she’s riding that high until her dad deliver the bad news.

“We’re doing what?”

Bob pats Paige on the back. “We offered to take out the Fudds for dinner, our treat.”

“The Fudds?” Paige echoes incredulously. “As in, Azzi’s family?”

“That’s correct.” Bob nods. “We happened to sit next to her parents during the game and we were talking about how good you and Azzi click together.”

“On the court,” Paige specifies. “And only on the court. Basketball’s the only thing we ever agree on, and that’s being generous.” 

“Don’t be dramatic,” her dad reprimands. “They’re nice people, Katie and Tim, and Azzi seems lovely. We’re going to dinner and we’re having a good time.” His tone leaves no room for disagreement, and Paige slumps down in her seat, defeated. “It’s an up-scale place, so go to your room and pick out something nice to wear. Meet us in an hour in the lobby.”

“Okay,” she mumbles begrudgingly. 

The rest of the drive back to the hotel is silent as Paige stews in her thoughts. Sitting through dinner with Azzi seems hellish, and knowing her parents’ tendency to talk on and on, it’ll surely end up being a multi-hour affair. Maybe she can fake being sick and leave early. Paige brightens up at the idea, and spends the next fifteen minutes devising a plan to fully sell it.

Wanting to put off dinner as long as possible, Paige takes her time heading back to the room, choosing to take the stairs even though her legs are still tired and aching from the game. She’s barely opened the door to her room when Azzi’s scrambled up from the bed and saying, “I need to borrow something.”

“Borrow something?” Paige goes to the closet and begins to ruffle through her more formal tops, starting to put together her own outfit.

“I realized I forgot all my nice clothes at home,” Azzi says. “I only have sweats and shit.”

“Aw, weren’t you just making fun of me for—”

“Paige,” Azzi interrupts. “Now is not the time.”

Paige rolls her eyes. “Okay, fine.” She looks through her clothes again, this time with a wary eye. “I guess you can borrow this.” She throws a long black sleeve at Azzi. 

“Bro, what is this?” Azzi gingerly picks up the piece of clothing with two fingers as if it’s poisonous. “You gave me your ugliest top!” she accuses.

“I didn’t!” Paige turns her back. “Beggars can’t be choosers anyways.”

“Can’t I have something, like, a little bit more interesting?” Azzi pushes past Paige, taking her spot in front of the closet  to look for herself. “Like this,” she holds up a tiny crop top that’s more like a glorified sports bra, and Paige’s eyes widen. 

“Hell no.” The older girl snatches it away from her. “We’re eating dinner with our parents, not going to a party.”

“There’s gonna be cute Belarusian guys at the restaurant, I know it,” Azzi complains. “I gotta look my best.” 

Paige blinks. “I don’t know why you think that helps your case.”

“Well, what about this one?” Azzi points to another crop top, this one slightly less revealing. Paige is about to relent when she imagines Azzi showing up with even a sliver of abs and toned arms out. The thought of having to sit next to Azzi, with nowhere to escape, when she’s looking like that, makes her shiver, and she hates it. 

“No,” Paige says firmly. “You’re shorter than me so it’s definitely gonna show way too much skin on you.” 

“When the fuck did you turn into a nun?” Azzi grumbles.

Paige glares at her. “Look, either you borrow this one or you get nothing. It’s up to you.” 

Protesting under her breath, Azzi grabs back the black long-sleeve and goes to the bathroom to change. Paige changes too and sits on the bed as she waits for the dark haired girl to finish up. When Azzi finally comes out, she stares at Paige dumbfoundedly. “You’re literally wearing a crop top and short shorts.”

“I can wear revealing shit,” Paige says. “You’re fifteen. It would be a crime if I enabled the baby of the team to walk around in clothes like this.” 

“I’m not the baby of the team,” Azzi says, crossing her arms even though she knows she younger than most of her teammates by a full two years. “And fifteen is plenty big.”

“You are,” Paige argues back. 

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

Harrumphing, Azzi gives up and leaves the room, forcing Paige to scramble to get her phone and purse in order to catch up. The doors of the elevator are about to meet when Paige hurriedly sticks her hand between them and pushes her way in. “Seriously?” she pants, looking pointedly at where Azzi’s finger had been frantically pushing the close button.

Azzi‘s mouth pulls into a tight line. “You coulda taken the stairs. Lord knows you need the conditioning.” 

Paige scoffs, and the rest of the elevator ride down is silent, both of them bristling. 

Their parents are running late, so they take a seat in the lobby to wait. Paige makes sure to leave an extra chair between them. Silence fills the air between them, heavy and pervasive, until Azzi suddenly asks, “Can I ask you a favor?” 

“No.” Paige’s response is immediate. She'd already very generously let Azzi borrow her clothes. What else could the younger girl possibly need?

Azzi huffs and forges ahead anyways. “Look, my parents are super worried about me.”

“Why?” Paige questions reluctantly. She’s in no mood to entertain Azzi's request for a favor, but her curiosity wins out; why would Azzi of all people have parents worrying over her? Despite how much she dislikes the girl, she can admit that she’s unusually independent and capable. It's honestly half the reason why Paige resents her so much.

“Because…” Azzi crosses her arms, like she’s trying to make herself smaller. “I don’t know. They’re scared I’m not making any friends. Which is completely stupid, because I’m close to Sam and Jordan!” she says the last part defiantly, as if she’s trying to convince herself more than anything.

Paige stays quiet. To be truthful, it’s not a wrong observation. Azzi is more introverted and on the shyer side, and despite being one of the few returning girls from last season, she still hasn’t fully integrated into the team dynamic. 

“And once they saw us play together, they got super excited. For whatever reason, they thought I made a new friend, and the fact that it was you—” Azzi cuts herself off, shaking her head in embarrassment. 

Once again, the blonde is curious. “Why me?” she prods. 

“I don’t know. They’ve seen you play a ton and they admire your work ethic, I guess.”  

“They know what’s up,” Paige says approvingly with a solemn nod.

Azzi holds back from rolling her eyes. “Listen, can we just play it chill at dinner? We don’t have to pretend to be besties, but let’s just hold off on the arguing for a couple hours.” She rubs her palms against her thighs, almost as if she’s nervous, and her pants come away damp. “I just don’t wanna disappoint them.”

Paige opens her mouth, about to crack another joke, but then Azzi looks down, avoiding her eyes, still hunched over herself and looking like she’s trying to disappear, and something about how vulnerable the younger girl looks makes her heart twinge a little. So she plays it off by clearing her throat instead, and busies herself with looking at the receptionist, who’s actually quite pretty. “Yeah, whatever. That’s fine.”

The dark haired girl shifts next to her. Paige swears she sees a small smile flash across her face before it’s quickly controlled into a stony mask. “Thanks.”

༉‧₊˚✧

2017 - Colorado Springs, Colorado 

1 year ago: training camp day one 

“Nervous?”

Azzi’s eyes shoot towards the blonde next to her. It’s her first time actually looking at her face, and she realizes with a start that the girl is disarmingly pretty, golden wisps of hair escaping her Nike headband, and her eyes are a sharp, deep blue. 

“No,” she lies. “I’m making this roster.”

“Nice.” The blonde grins at her, and it’s toothy and big, and it makes Azzi do a double take. “I am too.”

The rest of day one passes by quickly. Every so often, Azzi looks up from a drill and swears she sees blue eyes lingering on her before they quickly look away. She finds out from the yelling of the coaches that the blonde's name is Paige, and the name rolls around in her mind for longer than she can explain. Yet they don't talk again, merely exchanging high fives and mumbling "Good jobs" before they both end up using the bathroom before they head out of the gym for the day.

“You’re something, Fudd.” Paige wipes her hands with a paper towel as she leans coolly against the wall. “Where you from?”

“Virginia,” Azzi says, a little shyly. “You?”

“Minnesota.” Paige leans in closer, ever the charmer at fifteen years old. “But I’ve always wanted to go to the DMV.”

Azzi, flustered by how she can smell Paige's perfume, stammers out, “It’s pretty nice up there.”

“It’s nicer knowing I’ll have a pretty girl to show me around when I visit.” Azzi is fourteen, and this is the first time anyone has so blatantly flirted with her, and she’s kinda confused but she kinda likes it? Still, she's speechless, at an utter loss for words before Paige says, “Well, I guess I'll see you,” her hand brushing Azzi’s hip as she walks behind her to the door. Azzi puts a hand on the counter, steadying herself from the heated feeling of warm fingers against her bare skin.

“Yeah, see you,” Azzi breathes out, but when she looks behind her, the girl is lone gone.

[michellesneptune]

Future spouse PAC🕊️

hi guys! as of lately, i’ve been obsessed with the idea of marriage🫠🫠. (a subtle wink wink at my boyfriend) (not the 7 house also being the house of open enemies👀, maybe that’s why it’s occupied my thoughts iykyk). devoting yourself to one person, gathering all the sureness and love one can have in order to create something much stronger than you’d ever be able to be on your own.

i’ve never done this kind of content before so make sure to tell me how you feel about it!🐚

and now. take a deep breath and relax. be mindful about it — consciously give yourself permission and time to connect with your heart. you don’t have to rush, you don’t have to be on top of your shit for a peaceful moment. pick a card that speaks to you, that you feel has something important to tell you, relax, and listen.

card number 1

i feel like you guys could be a lot like me when it comes to the idea of marriage. somewhat traditional — looking for the one and only forever love, the fairytale. i feel like you could have libra+scorpio placements and truly value your relationships, put them on a pedestal even.

i also get the feeling that you could be struggling with your self worth right now, being self conscious. let me tell you right here: YOU ARE SO HOT!! your energy lures people in, you are soft, understanding and composed. they sense that there is A LOT to you, you have so so much to offer. anyone would be LUCKY to go out with you!!

you could’ve been mistreated in the past, betrayed by a lover and that made you cautious and guarded. it’s not surprising, your heart is a precious one so there’s a lot to defend. but the right spouse will treat you like a QUEEEEN.

i feel like they will make you think “maybe all the shit i went through was worth it”. every day you will wonder how did i get so lucky, you could be a bit suspicious even. but you will open up and learn to trust, gradually. they will be genuinely interested in your thoughts, plans and opinions, i even get the feeling that making your dreams come true will be a priority to them!!

my advice to you: pour into yourself, fill your cup up. ask yourself a question: “what would make me happy with myself?” then go do that. it can be small, just do it this week. it’s your homework! my personal suggestions: go out for your favourite food, meet up with your friends, draw or paint something, go to a bookstore, read. anything that will make you more reassured in yourself and your identity. explore yourself, there’s so much to you!!

card number 2

i’m getting that you are quite a practical person, you like to get shit done. CEO girlboss stuff. you take no crap, you’re responsible and dependable, some earth placements??

but here’s your little secret: you are a big softie inside and even though YOU WILL NEVER ADMIT IT, you dream about romance. you create fake scenarios every night before you go to sleeppp. but you’re scared to pursue it, scared of being vulnerable and someone seeing your weaknesses. you put on a brave face and do what you’re expected to do.

i can sense that you’re tired. that you just want to curl up and cry in a corner, not be the strong one anymore. you dream about someone taking you into their arms, taking the responsibilities away. you are worthy even when you don’t provide everything!!!!

you are strong and fiery and i admire people like you so much. your future spouse will also be strong but they will not dare to fight with your fire. they will be in awe of what you’re capable of and even a tiny bit scared. they’ll remind you to take care of yourself and relax once in a while. i feel like they will want to have kids with you and are very family-oriented, making your home cozy, safe and beautiful. possibly healing the wounds from your childhood, giving you what has been lacking.

and if you don’t want children, i see a bunch of puppies/cats/any other pets running around!!

my advice to you: take a leap of faith!! if you’ve been invited to a date or an event, or a trip but thought about bailing because of work, deadlines blah blah blah— GO! you won’t regret it!!

card number 3

i sense aquarius energy!! independent and unique, your approach to love and relationships is equally remarkable and untraditional.

that energy is sooo attractive to potential suitors🥵. we want most what we can’t have. they all chase you but you’re unbothered, not because you’re commitment-phobic, but because you’re waiting for someone to join you on your perpetual adventure instead of try and change you to fit their mold.

you know you thrive in freedom and you know you’re one of a kind. every day with you is exciting, when they let you be yourself.

here’s the thing though: you’ve mastered your own individuality but it’s not a crime to depend on others. i know you’re smart and i know you’re talented, but there are people who will love you even on those boring days, where you just sit in silence because there’s nothing new and nothing exciting. and i think that you’ll grow to appreciate the routine!!

i feel that you and your partner will give each other lots of space to develop as individuals and indulge in your own hobbies. then you’ll talk about them and fight over who gets to tell their story first😂.

they will be loyal and an exceptional person, just like you are. but i feel like you will fall in love with something more, something deeper in them. you will recognise it in each other and never stop noticing that special thing even in your biggest chaos and storms. they will love you by keeping up with your beautiful mess.

my advice to you: don’t worry, if life has seemed boring lately. take this time to get to know yourself, maybe slow down a little. have you noticed the flowers blooming everywhere? when did you last drink your morning coffee without scrolling? when did you last clean your refrigerator? indulge in some routine

ฅ^>⩊<^ ฅ

that’s all for today my loves!! this has been really intuitive and fun for me ;)) i hope you can find something in here for yourself and i hope it can bring you some joy💕💕⭐️

till next time

Michelle~~

[dduane]

…So once again it’s the time of year when I return to this piece of digital art in its most recent version, tweak it a little in the attempt to get closer to what I see in my head, and repost it for Pride. (ETA, 1 June 2025: this year's version of the image is rerendered to reflect the ongoing business of getting the varying skin colors of the Five properly nailed down.)

At the moment I’m looking at These Two Idiots (because honestly, in some ways they are...) and considering, once again with the usual bemusement, how long I’ve been working with them. Of all the characters I’ve worked with in print, the only ones I’ve known longer would be the crew of NCC-1701—and (as of autumn 2024) for the first time in paid writing, a couple of gentlemen named Holmes and Watson.

I first “met” the two characters above in late 1970 in the form of two fellow college students on whom they’d be loosely based: a couple of gents—not gay, as it happens—who were friends to me when I badly needed some. They were a tall dark-haired guy and a short blond one with a mustache that came and went… so that, not even knowing the word “trope” at the time, I'd fallen sideways into at least one.

Less than a year after I met them, I changed schools and educational tracks, and we all drifted apart. But something about those two stuck with me. The nature and depth of their friendship was unusual. So was one way it manifested itself: in ruthless snark that had no meanness or cruelty about it whatsoever—just (sometimes slightly rueful and eye-rolling) affection.

In the late sixties I’d pivoted from the Star Trek fanfic I'd been writing practially since the series premiered, to start in on writing some very derivative epic-fantasy fic strongly influenced by Tolkien. Rather to my surprise, though, as I started nursing school in 1971, the nature of that fiction started to change, and began rearranging itself around two characters who had a friendship like that of my college friends. With them at its core, a rather different and subversive kind of medieval-flavored fantasy world started knitting itself together from various scraps of themes and imagery lying around in the back of my brain.

Even so early in the construction phases of this world, something the characters quickly made plain to me in the writing was that their relationships with one another were not what mainstream 1970s culture would consider conventional. They were unquestionably what we'd now think of as queer… but that was a background issue,* and not at all the most important thing in their lives. They had far more important business to deal with—as became clear as their personalities and priorities started filling themselves out in the foreground.

One of them turned out to be the deliberate, analytical, methodical son of a provincial nobleman, all too aware of the expectations of those around him: that he was eventually likely to wind up running that province himself. Yet at the same time he also became aware that he had other more serious problems—chief among them the discovery that he possessed a nascent power that would kill him young if he failed to master it. And in the last thousand years, no one of his gender ever had.

The other presented himself more and more clearly as a difficult case: someone who wanted very much to be good at the family business, but wasn’t… and knew it. Kind of a screw-up, full of romanticized and unrealistic takes on the world and his relationship with it: repeatedly doing the wrong things for what he was sure were the right reasons. Yet no matter how often he screwed up, he was also the kind of person who keeps picking himself up and trying again, because he’s been told over and over that that’s what people like him have to do: otherwise they’re no use to anybody.

Imagine my shock when I realized that these two men—initially canonically enemies in their adolescence, then best friends as they grew, and eventually much more—were the (incomplete) answer to the question I’d once asked my Mom at the end of the bedtime reading of some fairy tale or other: “Why can’t a prince rescue another prince?”§ Because one of them got himself more than once into situations where he really needed one kind or another of rescuing. The other one obliged him, while once or twice getting rescued (in different modes) himself. Those interlocking patterns started to solidify out of concept and into character detail and plot, while their world grew and proliferated into its own detail around them.

Then, without warning, in 1978 both world and characters decided they were ready to get real. I was abruptly dragged gasping and flailing under the surface of a novel that would begin the tale of what those two characters had yet to become. The period it took to produce that first draft was possibly the most interesting six weeks of my life… and that includes the six weeks during which I first scrubbed in on brain surgery. Day and night, for days at a time, I barely even existed except as something for a novel to come out of. When it was done with me, it just as abruptly dumped me back into my life and wandered away, leaving me staring around, blinking and wondering if anybody’d got the number of that truck. Nothing like it has ever happened to me since, which may be just as well. I’m none too sure that these days I could handle the strain.

The book—which sold within a couple of weeks of its manuscript landing on its first publisher’s desk—kicked off my career as novelist and screenwriter, and in its way proved that the world was at least slightly ready for epic fantasy in which the basic culture was pansexual, polyamorous, and inclusive in ways that hadn’t been attempted before.

So I owe them a debt, those two gentlemen up there: the tall dark curly-haired guy with the amateur strategist’s mind, the blacksmith’s shoulders, and the peculiar sword, his background thought always nibbling away at the question of how to heal the world’s wounds: and the short fair gent who if he could would stay at home, live quietly in town, and work in the local library… except for when saving the world (or his found family) requires him to subsume his work-in-progress kingship and his being into that of his ancestral demigod. Due to the success of the book in which they made their debut, these two became, in their way, the fairy† godfathers of the Young Wizards—and additionally enabled all that Star Trek fanfic I’d started writing a decade before to proceed to its logical conclusion.

More to the point, though, a lot of people in the 1980s and ‘90s who’d never seen queer representation in a fantasy novel, found it first (or at last) while following Herewiss and Freelorn down their shared road. It’s been my pleasure to hold that space for new readers, and to keep adding to it… because—if you ask me—it’s needed more now than ever.

So, to the readership of the Middle Kingdoms works (now pushing half a century old) and everybody else who’s celebrating the season: happy Pride!

ETA: Just noting here for those who might be interested that, as usual, the LGBTQ Pride Bundle at Ebooks Direct is discounted more deeply than usual for Pride Month. With the usual warning to UK readers: friends, our apologies, but due to Brexit we can no longer sell ebooks to you directly. However, most of these works are currently available to UK readers through Amazon.com.

*Not least because everybody else in their world is (at least potentially) some shade of queer, including God.

§ For certain values of "prince". See here for more detail.

† (snicker)

[earthsparked]

I'm thinking about a pre contact human and transformer getting abducted by a quintesson ship. They are cellmates and have to work together to survive, but then it slowly becomes a deep platonic bond. At first, they are both wary of each other and can't communicate. But then they start getting close. The human cuddling up to the transformer for warmth, helping their giant mech friend repair themselves. The transformer becoming enamored with their little buddy who is so small but would still risk life and limb to protect them. Finally, they escape, and now the transformer and human are ambassadors to each other's species.

Oh that’s classic. 100/10! Quickest way to make a friend is to team up against an enemy. Humans are so much smaller, you’d probably be able to break into (and out of) whatever cell they had the mech in without too much trouble. Anything built to hold something that size, is going to have huge gaps for something your size. And vice-versa, a mech could break a human out of any kind of restraints almost certainly.

You’ve managed to make it to a point of safety, though you know it won’t be long before your captors come looking. You don’t know what to make of this giant alien robot, but they had nothing to do with your capture and now you’re both on the loose, so - any port in a storm, right?

You’re clinking and clanking so much though, more than they are, from the metal collar, and dangling chain they put around your neck like you’re some kind of dog. Maybe you should be flattered they thought you might be dangerous enough to warrant it…you did manage to bite one of them, when they took you.

You’ve worn your fingers and neck raw trying to get the damn thing off. You and the big robot are both slumped over, resting in what seems to be a storage room on the ship that took you. You can’t help but scrape and tug at the warm metal, skin-hot from being pressed against your throat. For a moment you feel that fierce surge of panic you’ve been fighting off for so long now. You’re so far from home, so scared, so angry.

Something picks you up like you weigh nothing. You let out a gasp and feel careful metal fingers wrapping around your ribs. You’re brought up to stare into the refocusing lenses of glowing eyes, or whatever this alien would call them, as they pick you up. You swat at them, ineffectually. You struggle harder as their other hand comes up and something pinches, hard, at the skin of your throat. For a second you think you’re going to choke.

Clang. The collar falls away into his hand with only a soft sound of metal-on-metal. You’re breathing hard, deep breaths, free for what feels like the first time in so, so long. Days and nights have ceased to matter here. You don’t even know if it’s been weeks, or months since you could last lift your hands and touch the inflamed skin of your neck. It hurts, but it’s so much better without that damn collar.

There’s a soft, but vicious-sounding rumble. Almost like a cross between a muscle car, and a very upset tiger. You look up and find the robot is looking from your throat, to the crumpled ring of metal. There’s something wet and red on it, that’s getting on its metal hand. Oof. You’d knew it was bad, but…yeah, you wince as you draw your hand away. There’s fresh blood and flecks of old blood, and you’re going to have some awful scars.

The robot makes a face. You’d seen how human-like their expressions could be when they had looked up in surprise at your sudden appearance, breaking in to their cell through the small door in the wall used for shoving cubes of pink liquid into the bare room. You’d seen their disbelief when you’d pointed at the weird electrostatic cuffs keeping their hands together, and been able to use a simple screwdriver you’d scrounged to short out the circuitry. You’d seen their curiosity when you’d talked to them and gestured wildly for them to give you a lift up to the maintenance hatch you could see near the ceiling. But now you know what they look like when they’re angry.

The metal collar, thick and inescapable, is crumpled between their huge fingers like you’d crumple a gum wrapper. You blink as their big hand tucks you close to their broad metal chest. It’s warm, the first real warmth you’ve felt in this freezing cold spaceship. To your shock, the robot’s other hand shifts, shapes, reforms into what can only be a giant gun. It whines in your ears, a song of freedom. You can hear alien voices in the distance, coming closer.

You grin up at your new friend, as they say something incomprehensible to you, and adjust their grip to shield you more fully. You don’t know each other’s language yet, but you understand them just fine.

Yeah, you agree. Let’s get the fuck out of here.

[ellismacvey]

People get really upset when I call them "morally lucky", but when I talk about that, this is what I mean

I get a lot of people get really upset when I tell them they lucked into having the correct moral and political positions, but what I'm criticizing is a fundamental inability or unwillingness to *actually think* about *why* you believe the things you believe.

Intuitive morality is a very dangerous thing. Sure, you may have just intuitively come to the conclusion that gay and trans people deserve to be treated equally to cishet people because you grew up in an environment where other people you consider role models held those beliefs, but other people were raised in an environment where they were taught gay and trans people are disgusting and sexually deviant (and, to be fair, I personally am).

I was raised in an environment where the positions I defaulted to without thinking were those of a transphobic anti-SJW MRA right-wong libertarian who believed in the Lost Cause of the South. It took a lot of work for me to change these views, to become an intersectional feminist and a communist who understands that the Confederacy was created to defend the horrific institution of American chattel slavery and who accepts herself as a trans woman.

Even now, there are millions of boys who are being groomed by social media to be misogynists. To be homophobic, to be transphobic, to be racist. To shun the idea of being in community with other people and live only to grind because they think that's all there is to life. There are millions of young girls being groomed in a similar way by social media to think of themselves as lesser, to think that they can only find fulfillment by subordinating themselves to a man as his tradwife, or else to believe the correct position that one ought be a feminist combined with the incorrect belief that being transgender is inherently antifeminist and therefore that being transphobic is feminist praxis.

If you don't think about why you believe the things you believe, you won't challenge your initial gut reaction even if it's wrong. Very few people luck into starting out with the right position on most issues, and nobody is just inherently right on all issues. If you aren't willing to think about your beliefs, and aren't willing to allow yourse to be wrong, you won't ever change or grow as a person. You'll just stay in this miserable, emotionally stunted stasis for the rest of your life. That's not a fate I'd wish on my worst enemy.

Many lgbt teenagers and young adults growing up on the internet today have socially conservative beliefs that they voice at all times that they got from their conservative parents which they’ve never challenged because they think the life experience of being gay or trans makes them politically progressive

[ash5monster01]

hi hi!! could i please order the chicken wings extra hot to dine in, with a side of onion rings and a lemonade :)

Order #1

Now Serving!

Main Course: Steve Harrington x FemReader

Ingredients: 18+, MDNI, smut, angst, enemies to lovers, hate sex, fingering, handjob, semi-public, p in v, dirty talk, lots of teasing, close proximity, language, no use of protection, no use of y/n

Meal: Steve Harrington angst/smut, enemies to lovers, with hate sex.

Total: $30.98 = 3k words

Menu - Masterlist

You could kill Robin, fingers twitching with a need to strangle, as her drunk form slumped onto Vickie. This was her fault, dragging you here and then getting so drunk she didn’t realize what she had just done. It had been a miracle she had gotten you to agree to ride with her and Steve in the first place, a deep hatred boiling in you for the brown haired boy. Now here she was, inebriated and fawning all over Vickie who had just agreed to take her home instead. Leaving you with the two options of walking home seven miles in the cold or riding back alone with Steve “The King” Harrington. 

“It’s really no problem. I only had one drink, and I kind of want to go with her.” A heavy blush paints Vickie’s cheeks at her confession, a protective arm wrapped around Robin who could barely keep her eyes open. 

“Go ahead, the spare key is under the mat,” Steve tells her, trying to hide the way his skin crawls at the idea of letting the drunk girl out of his sight. A need to take care of her tugging at his heart. He had half a mind to follow behind them but he also knew Robin would never forgive him if he did. This was her moment. 

“Thank you, I promise we’ll be safe,” she says once more before stalking off, a smiling Robin stumbling beside her. As soon as they’re out of earshot, you let out a huff, arms crossing tightly over your chest. 

It’s then Steve realizes that even the two drinks you had did nothing to lighten your hatred towards him. Not that he cared, it would just save him the trouble of you acting bratty on the way home. 

“Are you riding with me, Princess, or hitch hiking?” he sneers, using the nickname to deem you as high maintenance, no interest in what you decide. The only reason he was still offering is he was quite certain Robin would shave his head while he was sleeping if he had left you behind. 

You glare at him for the nickname. “To be honest I don’t have a preference, Harrington. Both are bad choices,” you state, trying to mask the unease you have at being alone with him. Steve Harrington had been the bane of your existence since middle school. From the moment younger you had slipped a love note in his locker and heard him laugh with his friends as you waited around the corner. What a fool you’d been and an asshole he always was. 

“Fine, walk,” he says with a heavy roll of his eyes, turning to the front yard where his BMW resided with a few other abandoned cars from the party you both had just attended. 

“Not that it matters to you but I don’t have any interest in ruining these new shoes, so I’m coming,” you growl, stomping after him with anger and determination. He made your blood boil and the adrenaline that gave you was better than any drug you could’ve had here. It was enough for you to willingly swing open the door and slide inside of the car. 

“Pretty princess and her poor shoes,” Steve mumbles, joining you in the cab of the car and slamming his door shut behind him. 

You smirk as he turns the key over, the engine rumbling to life. “At least you think I’m pretty,” you tease and he fumes, steam practically coming from his ears at your words. Yet he ignores you, shifting the car into drive and leaving the party in both of your wakes. Hopefully the entire situation as well. 

You last only five minutes before you start fumbling with the radio, unable to take the silence and the close proximity of the evil boy beside you. His cologne invades your senses and stray hairs fall onto his forehead, it was annoying and made your skin crawl. You don’t miss the way he scowls every time you switch it from a song he likes. Finally, you land on a station that plays a staticky version of Waterloo by ABBA, and you’re immediately humming along. 

“God, you have shit taste in music,” Steve mutters, and you roll your eyes. Not the least bit surprised he couldn’t recognize the fun and whimsy of ABBA and instead probably lived by synth rock, Tears for Fear and Starship, all bands who wouldn’t exist without the ones from the 70s, including ABBA. It only made you even more annoyed with him. 

“Damn, I guess I’ll never be good enough for you Harrington,” it’s a low blow, you know it, but he deserved it. You loathed him for all the right reasons, he was smug and cruel, but he loathed you for everything else. The very being of who you were and things you couldn’t change, and that made all the difference. 

“I don’t recall ever saying that, Princess,” he says, fingers gripping tightly over the steering wheel as he sped down the dark street. Determined to get as far away from this night and you as possible. 

“Oh please. It’s always something about me having bad taste in music. I’m too loud. Not good looking enough to date,” the last one slips out as you mock him, words uttered from so long ago, heavy laughs bellowing through the halls and shattering your heart even more. A bitter taste settles on your tongue and you accept that your anger has revealed more of your feelings than originally planned. 

Silence fills the car, a realization settling over Steve as the last few years play behind his eyes. He had despised you for making assumptions about him, always seeing the worst, and never giving him the benefit of the doubt. Now he knew there was reason, something tangible enough to fuel this fire towards him for so long. You had overheard him and his friends all those years ago and suddenly some of your resentment had become reasonable. Yet a new spark of anger hits him, annoyed at you for not being honest with him from the start, and instead assuming it had been him who said those vicious words all those years ago. Now it made sense why you hated him so much when he had become friends with Robin. No matter what he did, or your shared best friend said, you still wouldn't give him an inch. Instead you had been making his life hell for so long instead of just asking him for the truth. 

“And this is supposed to make me pity you? You are always calling me an asshole, assuming I don’t care about anyone, pestering me by asking when was the last time I did something nice for someone? God it drives me nuts!” he gasps out, mocking you right back, and his dismissal of your words reignites the deep hatred for him in a whole new way. You knew some of your claims had been unjust, that he did in fact care deeply for many people, and had just been nice enough to still drive you home. It still didn’t change the fact that he thought he was better than you when you pined after him all those years ago. 

“Yeah well someone ought to put you in your place,” you huff, watching as he slams the gear shift into park, now across the street from your house. All the lights are off inside, your parents probably expecting you to stay the night with Robin. 

“Yeah well, someone should put you in yours,” he exclaims as he turns to face you, no longer half focusing on the road. He cuts the engine, either to not wake your neighbors or yell at you more, you’re not sure. Yet when the headlights go out and you’re both left in the dark, something electric fills the vehicle. 

“Oh yeah? And how exactly would someone do that?” you ask viscously, body instinctively leaning closer with a need to hurt him or maybe something else. 

Steve isn’t sure what comes over him, whether it was the adrenaline from the current fight, or the single beer he had at the party, whatever it was he finds that his distaste for you borderlines with something heavier. A desperate need tugging at him and as he studies your face, eyebrows high and angry, he finds himself grabbing the back of your head and smashing his mouth against yours.

You don’t react, a bit shocked but a little fuzzy from the blood pumping in your veins and Steve Harrington’s lips against yours. You hate that he tastes like mint and cigarette smoke, a dizzying combination, and you also hate that it makes you melt into his embrace. Your anger matches his own, bleeding into something else that brings you to grip the collar of his shirt. When it’s clear you’re both participating in this shocking turn of events, Steve dares to dart his tongue into your mouth, tasting and memorizing the feeling of you against him. He’s on autopilot, embracing the heat of your anger, and lust stirring something deep in him that yearns for more of you. 

“This doesn’t change anything, by the way,” you say when his mouth finds your neck, sucking and scraping teeth against skin as your perfume invades his senses. His hands light your skin on fire, and when one of his palms cups your breast, it’s shocking how wet you get for him. 

“Trust me, I still can’t stand you,” he mutters against your skin but his hands roaming every inch of you says otherwise. Knowing you’re both on the same page, you surprise even yourself by tugging your shirt off your form, detaching Steve from your neck for only a moment before his lips find his way trailing down your skin and to the tops of your breasts. 

“Sure seems like it,” you say in a heavy breath, fingers tangling in his hair when he pulls one of the cups of your bra down and runs a tongue over your hardened nipple. He growls against your flesh, fingers brushing softly over your stomach as his hand travels down and under your skirt. He doesn’t regard the material of your panties, merely tugging it to the side when a calloused finger drags through your wet folds. 

“Same goes for you,” he smirks, now aware of how turned on you were for him. Quickly he teases your clit and enjoys the feeling of you soaking his fingers. You want to give a snarky comeback but it feels too good, the arousal coming from the deep hatred the both of you shared. There was something hotter about the fact it was Steve of all people making you feel like this. Both of you too worked up to care if it was the other filling that need. 

Instead of yelling at him some more you tug him close and put your lips back on his. He accepts the kiss the same time his free hand circles around your back and finds the clasp of your bra. It annoys you even more that he’s able to undo it with just one hand, the straps falling down your shoulders and leaving your upper half completely bare. You couldn’t be anymore thankful for the fact your parents were asleep right now. He stops kissing you only to suck a nipple into his mouth the same time he plunges a finger deep into you. You can’t suppress the loud moan that falls from your lips at the combined sensation. He grins against your skin and moves to tease and suck your other nipple, finger pumping in and out of you as you drip against his hand. 

“Jesus, you’re so wet,” he mumbles against your chest, leaving a trail of hickeys in his wake that you knew would fuel your anger even more in the morning. 

Wanting to feel like you have some sort of control you reach for his pants, hand traveling blindly until you feel his hard length taut against his zipper. You grip him over the fabric, feeling his body shutter against yours despite the pesky center console in both of your ways. Almost as if he was arguing physically, he adds a second finger, feeling you clamp down on his hand the same time you begin to drag down his zipper. With much effort you finally have him freed from his pants, heavy length squeezed tightly in your palm, thumb rubbing the beads of precum softly against his tip. His cock twitches from the touch, giving way how good it is for him too, and for just a moment instead of hating each other, you both jerk each other off. 

“Fuck it, take those panties off,” he demands, hand slipping out from under your skirt. You want to disobey, glare at him for trying to boss you around, but then you watch him suck his fingers clean and without a single thought you lift your hips and slide the fabric out from under your skirt. At the same time Steve slides his seat as far back as it can go before discarding his shirt and tugging his pants and boxers down to his knees. 

“Come here,” he says once your panties are abandoned on the floor along with the wedges you previously didn’t want to destroy on the walk home. You move quickly, hands finding his shoulders as your leg swings over his lap and center console. You clench around nothing when his hardened length brushes against your heat now sat over him. You grind softly against him, watching as his eyes close before grabbing the handle on the side of the seat and watch as it lays him almost all the way down. 

“I’m in charge now,” you tell him, feeling his fingers tighten around your hips as you reach between you both to grab him again. He keeps his eyes locked on yours as you drag his tip through your folds, using your wetness to make it easier to take all of him. He was bigger than any guy you’d had before but you’d never tell him that. Instead you press him against your entrance and slowly sink down until he’s all the way inside. You don’t move at first, hands steadying yourself on his hairy chest that only makes you even more wet. It was a curse that he was this attractive for an asshole. 

“Are you trying to kill me?” he asks after you don’t move for a long time and you roll your eyes before lifting and sinking back down. His head falls back against the seat when you do and the reaction causes you to find a pace, moving up and down and gasping every time he hits the right spot. Pretty soon it’s no longer about pleasuring him but finding that angle that feels just right. When you start grinding back and forth with him inside you, whining as the coil inside you begins to tighten. Steve sees his opportunity, reaching to rub circles onto your clit so you’ll cum before he does. He didn’t need the extra embarrassment of finishing too soon, especially with you of all people.

“I’m close,” you tell him, panting out your words as his hips start to lift and meet your own. You’ve left scratch marks down his chest, dangling your tits in his face. When finally you meet each other in one hard thrust that has you crumbling on top of him, cumming fast and hard as you shudder against his body. The suddenness has him finishing right behind you, hips bouncing your almost limp body above him, and adding to the sensation of both of your orgasms. 

Finally silence settles in the car, something other than indifference and desire filling the air. You lay against his chest, neither of you speaking or looking at the other even though he was still inside you. It was intimate and scary, both of you showing more to the other than you ever have before. The shield of hatred is drawn away for just a moment and you can still barely feel the heartache younger you still carried for the boy. A puppy love that might never go away. 

“I better get going,” you grumble when it becomes too much, sitting up and reaching for your shirt while still straddling his lap. You avoid eye contact at all costs, pulling the shirt over your head and pretending you weren’t still pressed against Steve Harrington of all people. 

He watches with furrowed brows as you reach over and collect your shoes and bra, avoiding the confrontation of what you both just did before popping his car door open and slipping out. Finally your head lifts, eyes meeting his own that look different for the first time you have ever known him. Your anger is still there but for a moment it temporarily settles in your stomach and doesn’t jump to be let out. 

“Thanks for the ride,” you tell him and he nods, maintaining eye contact as he pulls his pants and boxers back up his still half hard length. A fear constricting him at the prospect he may never feel this good with someone ever again. 

“Anytime,” he jokes, still remembering how an hour ago he was prepared to leave you behind and instead a weird and different kind of fondness intermingled with his annoyance towards you. It’s then he remembers your words from before. 

“It was Tommy by the way. He was the one who found that note and said you weren’t good looking enough. If I had found it I would have checked yes. I still would,” the confession feels like a bomb dropped, shocking you to your very core and you can still picture the lined paper now. 

Do you like me? ▢ yes ▢ no

And your nervous signature signed sweetly beneath with a crooked heart next to it. Steve still had it, stuffed in a drawer at home, but he would probably never tell you. 

“Goodnight, Steve,” you say, using his actual name for the first time all night and Steve nods, lips pressed together tightly. Slowly you walk away on shaky legs, leaving behind your panties as a reminder of the one time you both seemed to be on the same page. When Steve sees you disappear inside the house he lets out a heavy sigh and restarts his car, wishing he could go back in time and change how things happened between you two. 

“Goodnight, Princess.”

[gay-dorito-dust]

*Shuffles in* Prehaps, I could request John Walker with dark magic witch user dating hcs, please and thank you 🥹👉👈 If not, than maybe this prompt with Jaoquin!!

i just wrote joaquin as a bonus as i can't pass up writing him.

you probably didn't get off on the right foot, but that's neither here nor there, and after saving his ass on multiple occassions with your magic and the growing tension between the two of you a relationship was inevitable to happen. Even if it was in an unconventional way but no one is perfect and certainly neither were you or john.

John’s not so much a believer in magic, seeing as it’s not something he’s seen a lot in his life nor was exposed to, so needless to say he thought your magic was nothing more then parlour tricks for kids.

That was until he saw your dark magic in full display as you manipulated the shadows, shaping them into hellish demonic beings to hunt down and hurt your enemies on your behalf, or the time you had manipulated reality so that when someone tries to run away from you, they’d ultimately be warped into running into you time and time again until they cave in.

Your magic wasn’t pretty and he knew that, it was demented, forbidden, looked down upon and vowed to be eradicated for good by those who thought all who wielded dark magic were destined to be harbingers of destruction and evil.

However your personality shone brightly in a room where your magic had darkened it, the contrast between you as a person and your magic was so jarring that it in of itself was dangerously deceptive, and something that you could use to your advantages should you so wish.

Yet while John might not be a firm believer in magic or the mystic arts or whatever you wanna call it, but that doesn’t mean he’s no less impressed with the feet’s you are able to accomplish in due to your magic and control over it as well as execution as though it’s become second nature to you. Yet you do have days where your magic did act out and people got hurt, which resulted in you being publicly scrutinised for your seemingly ‘lack of control’

John had seen you scowl down at your phone multiple times, reading the same articles over and over again, so much that he had to take your phone off of you -something you did to him whenever he did the exact same thing- and sit down next to you and hold your hand within his own, his thumb rubbing the pulse in your wrist in a manner he hopes is soothing.

‘Why are you listening to the public opinion of others when you know what you’re capable of?’ He’d start. ‘You can fly, control shadows, manipulate reality and perception, absorb light and generate darkness from it, and so much more. They-’ he raises your phone in his hand. ‘-Can’t even leave the keyboard alone for a single second?' he's been where you've been, hell he still is but he didn't want some keyboard warriors words to get in your own head, make you think lesser of yourself becuase everyone was scared that you'd do when unleashed.

'don't give them power over you becuase you will spend your life appeasing people who's oppinons on you will never change, no matter how much you yourself have changed.' John finishes as you look at the way he held your hand, strong, firm and says all the words he couldn't dislodge from his throat, it was grounding and reminded you that the only opinion you should ahere by was your own and his.

for someone who considered himself a broken toy, John was all too well put together and a source of reassurance for you, a shoulder to lean on even if he did stiffen before relaxing afterwards, you were both learning and overcoming the hardships your relationship would undergo together, hands clamped tightly.

you even use your magic to tease john, whether it'd be by making his shadow tap him on the shoulder, or stealing his shield by making it seem as though it was waddeling away from him. forcing him into following after it until you have the shield in your posession , smirking at him while he looked at you unamused. 'you and your parlour tricks.' john would say as you shrug.

'you still fell for my parlour tricks regardless john. you're dating me remeber.' you replied as you kissed him on the cheek before giving him back his shield and walking away. John swears you'd be the death of him.

nightime is the when the worst swarms john's mind, leaving him restless and incapable of sleeping after waking up once and this is when your magic works it's...well magic. sure your magic is rooted in dark magic and it's fuled by your anger and hatred but you could still use it to manipulate John's dreams to ones that were more pleasent for him, to have him unlcench his jaw and lossen his shoulders and have his eyelids droopy enough for him to fall asleep for the rest of the night.

you always ask him if you could as you never wanted to use your magic without his conset, john would only hum and bring your hands up to his temples while resting his head agaisnt them, silently displaying his trust in you and allowing you into his mind to help him in a way he's never asked for before. you always make sure to never delve too deep within his mind, there was alot to unpack there and most of it wasn't anything that you should make your own buissness, and instead focus on reminding him of the good times you shared together and how you see him.

it might not be enough but it would do until you both decide to have a deeper conversation about it. There was a mutal understanding between the two of you that didn't need any words and never would as you understood each other on a deeper level then most, which often lead into bouts of over protectivness from one another on most occasions. not unexpected and not unwelcomed either.

if you ever were to overexert yourself in due to your magic -especially on a mission- he's stubborn in making sure you were okay as he made you food, make sure you were comfortable by fluffing your pillow and even insiting on endurance training so that it wouldn't happen again, for the betterment of yourself and him as well as future missions.

john was a secret worrier and thought the worse at the time as he hovered over you, checking your pulse but still being worried as he kept you safe until the rest of the team joined up with the both of you. he's a feral man on a mission to make sure nothing happened to you while you were in such a vulnerable state, wide eyes and his shield wielded like a weapon instead of something made to defend and protect.

he didn't care, he just needed you safe and would go to many lengths to ensue it.

he honestly loves whenever you used your magic, seriously you swear you've never seen a man's eyes become as wide as his as you manilpuated shadows to do your bidding with a flick of your wrist or using simple tricks to complete mundane tasks when you're feeling a little lazy to do so yourself.

he finds every bit of your magic fasinating even if it's origins aren't so favourable in the eyes of your fellow magic users. he's your reminder that your magic could never be evil if Joaquin is looking at you as though your had light emmiting from your palms instead of darkness and destruction.

‘Is there anything you can’t do?’ He would ask when you told him about how you could walk through shadows, trap people within prisons of utter darkness and audial illusions of their worst fears and memories, minor reality manipulation, consume light and even generate it into dark magic, teleport, telepathy, flight amongst many other abilities you have honed overtime and with experience.

You shrug. ‘I’m sure there’s somethings I can’t do but I won’t know until I get there.’ You tell him before adding. ‘But having such…power is draining and I don’t mean when it’s in terms of overexerting myself.’ You tried to joke but from the way Joaquin fell silent told you that it didn’t land how you’d wanted it to.

'you're doing your best.' is what he says in response.

'people still fear me joaquin,' you tell him, 'it'd been months and i'm still seeing no change in how people see me.'

joaquin's jaw clenched as he brings you into his arms, kissing your forhead as he rubs your back soothingly, not liking how you resented your magic because people didn't understand. joaquin understood you, admired you and sees you as a fountain of strength and power. 'then don't look at them, look at me when you feel lost, i'll always be there for you no matter what.'

'even if it means going agaisnt everyone that sees me as a disaster waiting to happen?' you asked him, burrowing your head against his neck, nosing his pulse.

'especially then.' joaquin promised as he continued to cuddle you against him in hopes it would give you comfort, give you something to remind you is real whenever you felt lost amidst your own power at times.

you swore he had magic within him aswell with how effortlessly he brought warmth and comfort to your life unlike anyone else in your life. he was bright, smart, warm, a sense of peace and hilarity that your life oh so desperately needed right now.

Joaquin was beautiful, calming and grounding for you as you wordlessly cling to him, safely knowing that you wouldn't be pushed away and instead brought into his embrace and melting into him as you felt yourself able to breath.

he might think your made out of magic but you thought he was the embodiment of magic even if it was small acts he did, he just radiated something beyond describing as it wouldn't do him justice.

joaquin would also ask if there was anything else that you haven't tried with your magic before pulling out a whole list as you both spent going through together, taking it as an oppertunity to spend time together however you could and treasuring it and the way he spoke as though he was on a time limit, how animated he is when talking about your magic and his over usage of hand gesutres of how he seen you use magic.

he was also your hype man too, whenever you did something cool with your powers, or just did anything in general, he's smiling widely and giddy as he possibly could. 'that's my baby!' he'd exclaim. 'looking good honey!' he'd add when he noticed that you had heard him.

sam finds the interactions between you and joaquin funny as he watched joaquin grab your hands and rub your palms where your magic resided, speaking sweet nothings to you, displaying an exciment when you made a bit of your magic weave between yours and his fingers.

joaquin even asks if you could fly with your magic, if you could then expect flight dates to be a very common thing between the two of you, even becoming healthy competition between you and him to see who could get to the rooftop of a building first, where waiting was a picnic blanket, fairy lights and food that was set up by joaquin hours prior. it's cute and you loved every second of it as it was just another thing about joaquin that you very deeply loved.

you even use flight competition to see who had to do what. ie; who had to do the dishes, who got to cook, who got more kisses and cuddles, who's the big spoon, and other things that many would probably be viewed as silly or unnecessary but neither of you cared, it was something that was yours and yours alone.

[merrinla]

Post-Weisshaupt cut content. Bellara and Taash want to leave the party. Rook convinces them to stay. Varric supports Rook again, remembers Kirkwall, compares Taash to Fenris, and advises to listen less to Solas.

Rook - Bellara

Rook: Heard you were thinking of leaving. Bellara: No! Well. Yes. Maybe.

Bellara: What happened at Weisshaupt... at D'Meta's crossing... Bellara: Even what happened to Minrathous/Treviso? Bellara: Boy. That's... that's a lot. Rook: Weisshaupt was bad, but it would've been a hell of a lot worse if we hadn't been there.

Bellara: The way you lead this team. Focusing on the fight. Always talking about what's next. Bellara: You never stop. And that works-for you, and for most of the others. Bellara: But... I don't know if it works for me.

Option: Doesn't always work for me. Rook: Look, this leadership thing? Being in charge? It doesn't come with a map.

Option: You need to figure it out. Rook: I need your head in this, Bellara. And your heart.

Option: We need it to. Rook: We need you here, and we need you fighting.

Rook: We're fighting gods, Bellara. The only way we win this is to keep them off balance. Rook: We give them time to think, but we've seen what they can do. We can't slow down, not anymore. Rook: Because every time we pause to take a breath? Our enemies gain ground. Rook: But focusing on the fight? That's not a mistake. That's the only way to win. Rook: The fight is what keeps us focused. And it keeps us grounded. Bellara: Even if we're leaving a trail of broken bodies? Rook: I wish I had answers. But I don't.

Bellara: Solas was willing to let thousands of people die. Trading them for the greater good. Bellara: Without hesitation. Because to him, the ends always justify the means. Rook: No. Solas thinks he's the only one who can save the world. Rook: And I chose to save those lives. Even if it cost others. Rook: We've both made hard choices. But that's where the similarities stop. Bellara: The gods are out, Rook. Because of a choice you made. People died. Even if you didn't mean it to happen.

Option: I'm trying to make up for that. Rook: You're right. Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain are out because of a choice I made. Rook: The why matters, too. And Weisshaupt hurt. But we can't let our regrets slow us down. Rook: I don't regret it. It was the right choice, and I'd make it again. Rook: But the scales aren't tipped in my favour right now, so I'm doing anything I can to make up for it.

Rook: And, yeah. Solas would've killed so many more. Bellara: But maybe that's how it started. How he started. Bellara: Weighing lives on a scale. And justifying everything by which side's a little heavier.

Option: I worry about it, too. Rook: You know what haunts me in the night? That you could be right. Rook: I'm going to make mistakes, and I'm going to get things wrong. Rook: I saw what Solas' ritual was doing, the lives it was going to cost, and I acted. And people still died. Rook: And... I still think it was the right choice. I know it was. Rook: Weisshaupt hurt. And it'll always hurt. Rook: The why matters. But "why" doesn't mean shit if you don't back it up with action. Rook: So we never stop pushing. Rook: And now I'm asking you to stick around.

Bellara: But maybe that's the first step. Looking at lives as numbers. Not as people. Bellara: It helps, though. To know you're thinking about these things, too.

Bellara: I don't think Solas would've come here to talk to me. Rook: He might've. Solas loves to talk. Bellara: (Laughs)

Rook: You staying around, then? Bellara: Yeah. I think I am. Bellara: Thanks, Rook.

Bellara: Not the heart-to-heart I was expecting... but maybe the one I needed. Bellara: I think I'll take a walk, but... I'm around. Whenever you need me. Bellara: Just say the word.

Rook - Taash

Rook: Hey, Taash. Taash: What do you want? Shouldn't you be making a list of everyone who's gonna die if we mess up again?

Option: It's a lot of people. Rook: To be fair, it's a pretty big list. Taash: You gonna keep telling jokes while the world gets covered with blight? Rook: Well, I tried talking about how everyone was feeling, and that didn't help. Taash: Of course it didn't help!

Option: Leaving? Really? Rook: You running out on us? Taash: You gonna keep going with all that vashedan about our feelings? Rook: I'm trying to keep this team moving. And we're dead without a dragon hunter. Taash: We're dead either way!

Option: I know you feel bad. Rook: Taash, I know you're not feeling great right now... Taash: (Growls) It doesn't matter! Rook: Of course how you feel matters. Taash: No! It doesn't!

Taash: Ghilan'nain's Archdemon turned from a dragon into some horrible monster. Taash: The blighted dragons you brought me here to fight might do the same thing. Taash: And you're just telling me how important it is instead of giving me what I need to do it!

Option: The team needed this. Rook: I was trying to get the whole team to pull together. Taash: We're already together! We don't need to braid each other's hair to kill darkspawn!

Option: Bellara needed support. Rook: Bellara was in rough shape. She needed support right then and there. Taash: I need to know what I'm fighting and how to kill it! But we're wasting time talking feelings instead! That doesn't help anyone! Rook: It helped Bellara. Taash: It didn't help me!

Option: We're all hurting. Rook: Nobody came out of Weisshaupt feeling good, Taash. Rook: Davrin watched a lot of Wardens die. Lucanis is beating himself up for missing his shot. Taash: (Scoffs) They're fine. Davrin just needs to punch some darkspawn. Lucanis will get Ghilan'nain next time.

Taash: I don't know darkspawn. Or Venatori. All I know are dragons. If they've been changed... Rook: You don't have to know darkspawn. That's what Davrin is for. Lucanis and Neve are here for Venatori. Taash: At least they got their shot! At least they know what they're dealing with!

Rook: I don't think they see it that way. Rook: You help them, and we'll get whatever you need to handle these dragons.

Taash: I just... I don't want another Weisshaupt. Rook: Me neither.

Taash: We need to do better. I need to do better.

Option: I will get what you need. Rook: Taash, I promise you, we'll get you whatever you need to take down these dragons. Taash: Hey. I'll let you know what I need.

Option: I'm sorry. I messed up. Rook: (Sighs) Listen, Taash, I'm sorry. I'm still figuring out how to lead this team. Taash: Hey. Coming and apologizing is good leader crap.

Taash: You needed me to let you know I'd be there to help, and I didn't do that. That's on me. I'll do better next time. Taash: I will. I promise.

Taash: We can't have another Weisshaupt. We can't do that again. Rook: Agreed.

Option: We're all scared, damn it! Rook: You think you're the only one who's in over their head right now? None of us know what we're doing! Taash: I'm the one who has to stop the blighted dragons! Rook: We all got knocked down. Everyone else is getting back up to keep fighting. Taash: Why get up if I don't have anything to fight with? Rook: You gonna join us, or sit there and complain about it? Taash: What? So I get crapped on because I wasn't crying in front of everybody?

Taash: (Sighs) I'm gonna take some time. Punch something. Get my head on straight. Taash: But I'll be here if something comes up.

Rook: You are not doing this alone, okay? Taash: Okay.

Rook - Varric

Varric: Weisshaupt was a lot. You holding up all right?

Option: I'm sure you heard some of the shouting. Rook: I just talked with Solas. Which really didn't help after the day I've had. You probably heard the yelling. (reference to this) Varric: That little speech of yours left me worried. Where did that come from?

Option: I'm taking responsibility. Rook: The gods are loose because of us. Because of me. We have to stop them. We can't cry over the costs. Varric: What, it's too hard to think about the people you're trying to save, so it's better to just forget them? Rook: It's just reality. Varric: Rook, you can't escape from your feelings by working. Just ask my brother Bartrand.

Option: We have to keep working. Rook: We don't have time to stop and deal with this tragedy, Varric. Every minute we waste, the gods take more from us. Varric: You're not helping anyone by shutting down and focusing on work. You're making your team miserable. Rook: We have to face facts. We're fighting an overwhelming enemy, and people will die. We can't cry over each one.

Varric: You've definitely been spending too much time with Solas. Rook, Chuckles doesn't know what he's talking about. Varric: He never did. Don't take advice from someone who's broken the world twice. Three times, if you count this one.

Option: I'm scared to death. Rook: Honestly? I'm terrified. Ghilan'nain alone wiped out the Grey Wardens in their own stronghold. Rook: It took everything we had to kill her Archdemon, and she got away. No wonder Solas didn't try to fight them.

Option: I can't believe that happened. Rook: I'm honestly not sure how we go on. Rook: I think I'm in shock. So many people… gone just like that.

Option: We lost Weisshaupt. Rook: Varric. Weisshaupt is gone. The Grey Wardens… are gone. I have no idea what happens now.

Option: Varric. We're going to lose. Rook: Weisshaupt stood for a thousand years, and the gods just wiped it off the map. Rook: The Grey Wardens will never recover. I don't know if the world will.

Varric: Weisshaupt was bad. Anyone would be a wreck after that. But you're still standing. Rook: No, that was bullshit.

Rook: Taash isn't the only one who's pissed off after what happened. The Wardens should've been prepared! Rook: They had everything they needed! An army! A giant fortress! They even had an Archdemon trap, Varric! Rook: But they were so high on their own bullshit, they still fell! And took our chances of winning with them.

Rook (Grey Warden): And the Grey Wardens… we were supposed to be better than this. Our big battle finally came. And we failed.

Varric: Well, that sounds like self-defeating crap if I've ever heard it. Varric: How many stories did I tell you about Kirkwall? The Deep Roads expedition, the Qunari invasion, the Chantry… Varric: How many of my stories end with me stuck standing alone in ruins? Too many. Varric: There's no grand plan worth more than the people in the streets. Anyone who says otherwise is lying. Varric: Take it from someone who's worn a crown. The greater good is bullshit. Varric: Nobody fights for the world. They fight for the things in it that matter. So who are you fighting for? Really?

Faction option: The folks back home. Rook (Grey Warden): The Wardens were all I had. I have to do this for them. Rook: (Shadow Dragon) It's going to sound strange to say, "for Minrathous," but there are good people there… in and out of the Shadows. Rook (Antivan Crow): Viago's kind of terrifying, but the Crows are my family. I can't let Antiva fall. Rook (Veil Jumper): There's a lot of people still trying to fix Arlathan. I just want to give them the chance. Rook (Mourn Watch): I don't want to imagine the gods reaching the Grand Necropolis. It can't happen. Rook (Lord of Fortune): The other Lords, I suppose. They should never have to deal with this mess. Varric: That's a start. It's not enough to oppose evil. You have to care who lives to see your greater good arrive. Varric: Yeah, there's folks in Kirkwall I'm looking forward to seeing when this is over.

Option: The team. Rook: This team. Everyone here. This is all I've got, Varric. Varric: Right. Look after the team. You picked them for a reason. Varric: You've got to know you can't protect them from yourself.

Option: I don't know. Rook: I'm not sure I have an answer. Varric: My point is: You better know what you're not willing to lose. Looking away won't save them. Varric: You've still got the team, and you still have allies.

Rook: Bellara is gone. I don't know if she's coming back.

Rook: Taash is… gone. I don't know how to fix that.

Varric: The fight's not over until you give up.

Option: I won't. Rook: I wasn't planning to. Varric: No, you wouldn't. You're not the type to quit.

Option: Right. Back to the fight. Rook: Pick up the pieces and move forward. There's nothing else to do. Varric: Isn't that the truth?

Option: I don't know what to do. Rook: But I don't know where we go from here, or what comes next. Varric: Trust the team. Varric: You picked most of them, Rook. They're your team. Don't forget that.

Option: I'm hearing, "surrender." Rook: So, now would be a great time to retire to the Amaranthine Coast, I guess. Varric: It's never a good time to live out there. Rains more days than not. Varric: As bad as things are, you already have what you need.

Option: Want your old job back? Rook: If you make a sudden recovery, and want to take over for me, I won't say no. Varric: I would if I could.

Option: What about Bellara? Rook: How do I patch things up with Bellara? Varric: Give her some time to cool off, and then apologize. She cares too much to quit. Varric: And it wouldn't hurt to see if your resident dragon expert has any ideas.

Option: What about Taash? Rook: How do I patch things up with Taash? Varric: Let her cool off. Taash reminds me of Fenris sometimes. Has to hit something until she figures out what she's really mad about. Varric: And once Taash is back, maybe see if your dragon expert has any ideas.

Varric: You've got this, Rook. Don't worry.

Varric: You might want to check on Lucanis and Davrin to start. They were a little too quiet earlier. (maybe a reference to this)

[kirayamee]

.。o○ [ simon riley and his kitten in dresses ]

love dresses! and I thought of possessive simon quite a lot (*｀▽´*)

ㅡ

You love wearing dresses. Light, dark, colorful dresses - anything. Be it long or short, you just love watching the skirt flowing around whenever you walk. The best part? You love little straps of the dress clung onto your shoulders.

And Simon loves it as well. Anything you wear, especially the one that you like so much, makes you smile happily. What else gotten him into you in the first place if not how bright you are compared to him?

His little kitten who loves to wear dresses a little too much. Then once you became his, he never thought he would be this hyper-aware of his surroundings. If his usual senses were to detect enemies, maybe this one is close, he could sense other men's gaze on you whenever you went on a date with him.

What's up with these guys admiring you? Can't see the big, bulky guy beside her that could kick their asses?

Yet the words, "You should stop wearing dresses, kitten," came so wrong in his mind. How could he prevent you from wearing something you love? Those jerks were the ones who had to learn to stop looking, or else he might choose violence.

"You look like you're about to punch someone in their face, Si."

Your words brought him off his annoyance for a moment before he let out a sigh. "Maybe I am," Simon huffs, leaning back against the backseat. "They just can't stop prying on you like some meal."

His words made you giggle for a moment while you took a sip of your drink. "Like someone I know."

"I'm yours. It's a huge difference, kitten."

Another smile appeared on your face, sweet and adorable, which sometimes just melted his negative emotions away. But when another man just had to get his eyes on you - the way he couldn't get his eyes off you for a minute straight - that was it. You need something for everyone, especially men, to know that you belong to someone. To him.

"Simon? Where are we going?"

Simon didn't reply you, his holds were firm as he led you to one of the emergency exits. Behind the door, he got you pinned against the wall, circling his arm around your waist while the other hand covered your mouth. If he wasn't your boyfriend, you probably would've went pale.

He tilted your head gently, exposing your neck to him where he gently pressed his lips on the spot near your ear. It started with gentle kisses, leaving you whimpering softly - so easy to get affected - before he had to use his tongue and teeth to make you twitch and jolt against him. Your sweet whimpers turned into muffled, quiet moans instantly.

"Simon! Baby- mmh!" Your struggle to handle him sucking and nibbling your neck was evident, especially the way your legs trembling, barely even standing in your favorite heels. When he let go of your mouth, but stayed holding you by the waist, you looked at him while panting softly. "Did you just... Simon, people will see."

"That's the purpose, kitten." Simon's voice was low as he traced the hickeys on your neck like a precious art with his thumb. "Just got to show them who this little kitten belongs to."

Later that night, Simon never let you out of his sight and his belongings constantly wrapped around you. He put on his belt around your waist, making your dress look a little better, before he got his huge leather jacket over your shoulders. And he made sure to keep his hand around your waist, fingers digging into you through your dress.

For a whole night, Simon never gets his hands off you. And whenever any man got his eyes on you, he'd shoot them a glare, making sure you could enjoy the moment without thinking of any perverted gaze - except his.

Well, you do want Simon's perverted stare. He would never know that you wore dresses in the first place to tease him, wouldn't you?

If he knew, he probably would only let you wear dresses just for him.

ㅡ

kirayamee, 2025 ][ do not copy

[pensola]

If they wanted to have the characters unable to save the world or survive the final battle if one did not do the sidequests, why not have it that they were simply not strong enough?

This is saving the world from what people consider to be gods, they should have the best of the best (that apparently have not been fighting in the past games). Have it be that they simple were not strong enough to win. They did their best, they were professional about the mission, it is clear that they genuinely tried. And they failed, because the gods are that strong.

And they have their meeting, and they are angry at each other, because they did their best, right? They are used to succeeding when they do their best, so some of them are angry because then it must have been someone else's fault (Davrin: "Your demon took control" vs Lucanis: "Your darkspawn blood must have controlled you"), while others are sort of numb and fearful that if their best isn't enough, then what hope is there? They leave the meeting defeated, Rook has a conversation with Solas, and they meet again the next morning.

The conclusion then is not that they have to finish their personal issues to concentrate better, but that they must be vigilant and search for more power or more help to battle the gods. "Whatever it takes," they all agree.

In my head, this also gives somewhat more stakes to some storylines. Emmrich can become much more powerful if he becomes a lich, and it WAS "whatever it takes", right? So why give that up for one skeleton-wisp-friend? The knowledge square might have information about war techniques that they might use, is Bellara willing to let that go due to grief? Is Taash willing to submit to the Qun to gain their military might, or to remain themself, free with the pirates, but growing stronger but always unsafe from the Qun themself? (Yes this is sort of changing that storyline, but their story had almost nothing to do with power) The list goes on.

And, perhaps this is just me, but have some of the choices genuinely have an effect on the final battle. If Emmrich is a lich, not only will nobody die if he is protecting them, but he will not die himself; if he is not, however, one must choose the ONE correct place for him, or he will die, because he is not any stronger than before. Taash risks being overwhelmed by the remaining Qunari enemies if they did not recruit them, and so on. Some of the choices that we tend to go towards due to personal sentimentality, like keeping the skeleton-wisp alive at the cost of immense power, SHOULD actually have a negative consequence when we are fighting the Evanuris, I think; it shouldn't be impossible for Emmrich to survive, but it should be harder, because the point was that they failed because they were not strong enough, and by saving the wisp, he has not grown stronger (yes, perhaps the skeleton can do something unique with his magic, but he's a novice, it is unfair that he will compensate for lichdom power). By not having the griffins stay with the Grey Wardens, they are unprepared to help the the final battle, so if Davrin is alive, if he is not placed correctly, then either he dies, or Assan dies, and if Assan dies, Davrin will not be able to perform the attacks that require him from then on. The list goes on.

I am not saying my idea is better, it might be worse or might have taken more resources they were not willing or able to take, but it felt like there was a more logical solution to "We failed first try, do our SQs or we'll die the next time" than them not being able to concentrate.

I hate when people go, “Veilguard companions are professionals!”

No, they’re fucking not.

“Professional” implies that you can prioritize tasks appropriately.

There’s not one shred of that in this game.

Your Team™️ is so fucking incompetent that they cannot set aside their personal issues to handle stopping the end of the world.

[hedwig221b]

I absolutely love all the fic recommendations you give and I think you are an absolute angel for doing them. And I feel really bad for asking for some but I’ve been searching and I’m coming up short on them so I wanted to ask if you (or your follows because the suggestions they leave on other asks always so good!) know of any good Viking or medieval type of Sterek stories. Please and thank you so much!

💐💐💐💐

Hello, my love, here you are, hope you like these

Medieval

Under the Wide Blue Sky by zeit

Crown Prince Stiles returns home after many long months away commanding his father's armies. He doesn't feel he understands the true motives of his enemies, but having ended the battle for now, he turns his attention instead, albeit begrudgingly, to finding someone who might sit at his side someday when he assumes the throne. His childhood affection for Sir Derek blooms anew when the man accompanies his younger sister, Lady Cora, to the capital to be presented as a formal suitor for Stiles's hand in marriage.

Weaving Peace, Stitch My Heart by Susihukka, wanderingeyre

After a generation of a devastating war, the countries of Triskel and Astoria have come to a peace agreement. The only son of Astoria, Stiles, will offer himself as a Peaceweaver in marriage to the second oldest child of Triskel, Derek. Stiles is nervous but excited to meet his new husband and start a family. Unfortunately, for Stiles, his intended wants nothing to do with him.

A Princely Knight by Dexterous_Sinistrous

He would stand by Stiles’ side, a constant shadow of protection until his death. A life for a life, one worth much more than an orphan turned thief turned royal guard could comprehend. In truth, Derek saw the one person he would gladly give his life for, because Stiles made this world better. ~*~ Or, Stiles is a prince and Derek is his knight.

Wolf Winter by DarkAthena (seraphim_grace)

Stiles is the legitimate omega son of King Deucalion, tricked by his brother Theo into running away he is trapped, ruined and unable to return home he finds himself stuck, captured as a poacher by the infamous Hale clan he claims sanctuary in their small chapel and Peter puts him to work, with Derek just returned from the crusades he needs a new healer and the only option they've got is the boy in the chapel who is pretending to be a beta

The White Hart of Winter by DarkAthena (seraphim_grace)

Sent to marry the Hale Beast Stiles finds himself alone in a castle left to ruin and watched over by Kate Argent, who he thinks is sleeping with his new husband and seems determined to destroy him.

A Devotion by TroubleIWant

There’s a boy exiting the doors as they approach. Where Derek is tan from hours outside, the boy is pale except for a few beauty marks on one cheek. He’s dressed in fine riding clothes, and flanked by a guard wearing the sign of the royal house. A noble, then. He’s younger than Derek, but, considering his higher station, a bow would be appropriate. Despite that, Derek can’t help looking curiously at the boy, who’s looking back at Derek with just as much interest. For a moment, their eyes meet - the boy’s are a deep amber in the sunlit courtyard, ringed by long, tawny lashes. A gloved hand smacks the back of Derek’s head and he instinctively flinches away, hunching his shoulders. He loses track of the other boy as they pass one another, and as he turns to get another look, the knight grabs his shoulder and marches him forward into the stable. “Keep your eyes to yourself,” the knight instructs. “And next time, show the proper respect to Crown Prince Stiles.” Or: A medieval AU that's a little Princess Bride, a little bit more Game of Thrones, and a healthy side-serving of gay erotica.

The Thorns of a Rose by Dexterous_Sinistrous

"You have your mother’s eyes,” Peter suddenly commented, his tone light in his observation. Stiles stiffened at the mention of his mother. “Honest eyes,” Peter added as an afterthought. “Sunlit like the golden embers of coal burning in a forge.” Stiles turned a soured expression on Peter. “Have you a point?” He asked. “Many men have struggled to have those eyes even spare them a glance,” Peter simply stated. “An honest but naive treasure that managed to fool a dragon.” He placed the crown on Stiles’ head, amused when the boy immediately pushed away from him once the ornament was in place. “Hopefully those eyes can fool the Seven Kingdoms into thinking you could love a wolf.”

an exaltation of larks by llassah

There are times when he feels as if they could fall into bed together, easy as breathing. If Stiles were not highborn, if he were an omega without connections, Derek would be sorely tempted. As it is, he resists. Derek wants, he yearns, but he resists. Still, the sight of Stiles in his cot is enough to test him, even now that it is familiar. At the end of each lambing season, he sleeps for a week, worn down by months of hard work, of relentless struggle. He doesn’t know how he’ll feel by the time Stiles leaves, how he’ll feel after long days and longer nights spent resisting the insistent tug of Stiles’s scent and the inclinations of his own foolish heart. All Derek wants is to get through the lambing season with his body and spirit intact. He had thought that the blizzards would be the main danger, not a highborn omega with beautiful eyes and a stubborn streak.

The Light in the Woods by DiscontentedWinter

To honour a treaty with the people of a strange land, Derek Hale, prince of the kingdom of Triskelion, has to marry Stiles.

bend bridges, mend bones by Thealmostrhetoricalquestion

They burst through the portal in a gust of stale air and violet light, landing hard on the outskirts of a swamp. Stiles feels his knees buckle, both from the magic required to keep the portal open and from the force of their landing, but he grits his teeth, determined to stay standing in the presence of Derek Hale and his pack. Christ, it would be just his luck to rocket through his own portal at neck-breaking speeds and collide face-first with a puddle of sticky, disgusting mud. Thankfully that doesn’t happen, which is good because Stiles can’t really afford to add useless to the list of things that Mage’s are; untrustworthy cowards, meddlers, monsters. (In which there's an awful lot of fighting, people learn to trust people, and Stiles saves the day. Repeatedly. Over and over again. And he would like some credit, goddamnit, Derek.)

The Demands of Duty by Reiya_Wakayama

With the threat of war hanging over them, Stiles and his people are caught in the middle and must chose a side before they get smashed between both and with the threat of winter and a bad harvest weighing them down, he must chose quickly.

Deflowered by astrugglingstoic

In which there is a prince, a knight, sequential sword fights, and an anecdote about pressed flower petals.

If I die before my time, bury me upside down by ElisAttack

The boy is all of sixteen years old, a too large crown of gold resting on his head. The boy is sixteen years old, and Derek knows he would die for him. Or the one where Stiles is a young King, barely holding onto power, and Derek is his most trusted knight.

The Vow of a Wolf by Dexterous_Sinistrous

"There’s a boy with alabaster skin, scattered with moles,” Jennifer explained as she thought about Stiles. “With large, dove-like eyes. He’s accompanied by this wolf—the one with fur as black as the night they travel by.” “Is it the boy or the wolf you want dead?” The hunter questioned. “Kill the boy before you end the wolf’s life,” Jennifer commanded. “Let the wolf smell the blood of the boy it loves. Let it howl in pain before you end it.” “Yes, my lady,” the hunter dutifully answered.

For the Love of The Game (It Made Me Love You) by Quirky_chemist

Stiles tugs on the arm braces of his armor, tightening the leather straps so that they were snug and in place. Scott was watching him with worried eyes as he finishes suiting up for the tournament. Every few minutes he would mumble under his breath about how Stiles’ father would kill him if he found out what they were doing. It was easy enough to fake the papers needed for an unknown knight from a rarely heard of territory, especially when you had the resources that Stiles did. He would ride as his true identity, but none would ever ride against him. Knowing that he was royalty, every knight would quickly and surely send one of their men to cover their shield with a white flag in withdrawal. It was an annoying truth that Stiles could not deny.

Moon Tribe Battles by 3rdgenderfromthesun

Derek was an alpha and a general of the Moon Tribe and he was fierce and unfaltering. This war had been going on for generations and Derek had grown up with blood beneath his claws. Beyond the stench of death, blood, gunpowder, and crackling magic was the unbelievably alluring scent of Derek's mate.

Faoladh by 3rdgenderfromthesun

Prince Stiles has always been in love with the legend of the Faoladh- skin walkers who use the pelt of wolves to transform into their feral counterparts- but he never imagined he would be kidnapped in order to lure out the supposedly mythical creatures. The legends said that they found and returned lost children to their families and guarded the woods surrounding his father's kingdom, but Stiles was long past being a child when a dark furred Faoladh came to his rescue.

When All the Pieces Fit BY NARKOTIKA

"Does he even realize? With the cooking and cleaning andandand—now this fucking baby?" Isaac fumes. Said baby waves its fist in the air, and Stiles bends to haul him onto a hip. The baby babbles something and Stiles nods his head with complete seriousness, as if everything out of its mouth is perfectly sensible and coherent. Then the kid starts mouthing at Stiles' nipple through his dress and everyone goes dead silent. "I'm going to wife him so hard," Ethan announces, and they all break out into argument over who has the best chance at mating the boy in the river.

Under the Golden Moon BY NARKOTIKA

Derek doesn't know how long he sits in his wolf skin, on his haunches, observing Stiles as the sunbeams slant through the trees and cast slashes of light across the omega's willowy form. The boy has his feet in the water, a babe on his hip, a bright smile on his face as the other younglings splash around and soak his garb. The creamy skin of his thighs peek out from the slits running down the sides of his draping skirt, and Derek has never wanted anything more than he wants this beautiful being of the woods.

also these are vaguely medieval so there

Incandescent

"You are trying to court our alpha,” sang Lydia. “Surely you realize that he does not reciprocate.” “He doesn’t stop it.” There was no point in lying. Paige was courting Derek. She would be a fool not to. “He doesn’t care to.” Lydia arched her thin eyebrow. “Why do you think he’s still searching for his mate, hmm? Why didn’t he stop once you were here? You think you can annoy him into sleeping with you?” Lydia laughed. “He is a born wolf, darling. He will not fuck you if you are not his.”

your fangs against my skin (the sound of your bones)

This was it, then, huh? It was that easy for Derek to invite someone to his den. Someone other than Stiles. He healed the wolf. Stiles killed his tormentor, mended his blood and bones, and let him sleep beside him. But none of it was enough. He wasn’t a spark, after all, but a witch — evil and alone, locked up in his tower. Witches didn’t get happy endings.

Resistance

How dare the wolf taste those lips, hold him, panting and soft, trembling and eager, so close to his chest? How dare he? Jordan could not move, even if he wanted to. The slick sounds of their kiss, of tongues sliding softly against one another, bitten-off moans, and muffled mewls interspersed with crackling fire — it was hell for him. Stiles was everything Jordan dreamed he would be in a moment like this — he moved just right, arched so beautifully, bared his throat, and grabbed the hand that pressed to his stomach, keeping it there. His smell seeped across the tent, sweeter than ever before and deadly because of it. Jordan’s eyes stung, his fists clenching the cold sheets. Yet, he could not even take a proper breath, for everything smelled of him. For three years, Jordan told himself to resist. Three years of catching Stiles only for the omega to seep from his fingers. Years without ever holding his waist like Jordan wanted to. A month was all it took for Stiles to give it to the wolf.

Viking

Open Seas and Boundless Skies by violet_vengeance

Stiles has been used and abused by his step-brother for more years than he can count. In a final act of cruelty, Stiles is traded away to a fearsome Viking warrior. Little does Stiles know that this strange and brutish man may just be the start of his freedom.

A house without kindness by DarkAthena (seraphim_grace)

Driven to the far north by hunters Derek finds shelter in the snow

like the old gods

A wolf in the woods, a raven in the sky. (fenrir!derek)

The Downed Dragon by orangecrow

A thunderous crash brings viking werewolf Derek Hale to the edge of his pack's lands four days before the last autumn moon.

[masterlist link]

[catboy-beckett]

Someone on the Tokyo Debunker subreddit brought up ships for MC (as in, not just the characters players like/are attracted to, but ones we actually think would go well with the protagonist) and I haven't stopped thinking about it. I find it an interesting question, because my preferences for myself are pretty noticeably different from who I think she would like! So here are my compatibility assessments!

Disclaimer: I have only played through most episodes once, so my memory of TDB lore may be lacking in certain areas. I also have not completed all affinity stories and have not spoiled myself on them. Also note I will be using "you"/"me"/"us"/"I"/etc. to refer to MC interchangeably with "MC"/"her" because that's just how I'm used to talking about video game protagonists Spoilers avoided for newest episode but only newest episode.

JABBERWOCK

HARU: I honestly think he is MC's favourite! He's the one she's most often happy to see, and in return he is always grateful for her help. MC seems to volunteer at Jabberwock reasonably often and with little prompting; this isn't necessarily because she's infatuated with Haru, but rather I think it shows they have similar priorities.

REN: He's giving a whole lot of nothing. A lot of the opportunities given to him in-story to bond with her, he outright rejects. He doesn't seem interested in getting into a relationship, or even forming a friendship that could lead to a relationship. I'm all for "enemies to lovers" but you've gotta show the attraction from the beginning! Otherwise it just feels like a shoehorned-in plot twist.

TOWA: Very romantic. Very mysterious. Compelling, and they clearly like each other. My biggest complaint here is that Towa is someone who needs more screentime for an arc. He's not a simple character. I also think MC would be a little afraid of him if it ever really clicks for her what he's capable of. (Both power-level-wise and morals-wise.) I know fans love Towa's yandere tendencies but MC shows no enthusiasm for that type of man.

SINOSTRA

TAIGA: My favourite man! Terrible for MC. She is pretty much trembling in her boots whenever he's around. I can't see a romantic future for them. Taiga's ideal wife is Romeo, and MC just doesn't have the backbone to be Romeo. That said, I think MC having an inconvenient physical attraction to Taiga would be narratively interesting (and fuckin' hot), as who doesn't love the tension between a dangerous violent freak and a shivering field mouse? There are a couple of other points in Taiga's favour too: the fact that he's the ghoul who seems to react to MC's personality the most (he's always noticing how timid she is and seems to find that cute/attractive) and the fact that he eats anomalies (😳) set him apart from most other love interests. Taiga is down to fuck but he's not really a viable option to date.

ROMEO: This might be controversial but I think Romeo is one of those ghouls who has his own love interest, and it isn't you. I'm not even sure he likes women. I've never once felt like Romeo had an interest in my character and the only time he flirted with us was to make Kaito jealous. Honestly that felt more like ship teasing between him and Kaito if anything. As for how MC feels about him, I think she's about as intimidated by him as she is by Taiga, though it's slightly easier to get Romeo to Not Murder You than it is Taiga. Romeo can at least be reasoned with.

RITSU: Never shows an ounce of attraction or even warmth. Even when he smiles at someone, it feels more like professional courtesy than a reflection of his feelings. How would someone like Ritsu fall in love? It's a fascinating question, but the game is not yet interested in giving us an answer. He tends to bully MC into doing what he wants just like Romeo does. He uses social pressure rather than violence, which I think she finds preferable to Romeo's method, but not pleasant. There's also the fact that Ritsu is dedicated to becoming Taiga's lawyer, and I honestly think he would continue trying to defend him if MC ever wanted to press charges for, say, the time he shot her, or the time he tried to throw her out of a train. Taiga's romance potential is already shot because of these things; what can we say of someone who would take Taiga's side?

FROSTHEIM

JIN: Oh boy. Okay, this is the "canon" ship. Jin gets all the tropes, all the sparkly panels of heroically rescuing MC, all the jealous NPCs treating MC like she's already his girlfriend, the works. They could not be pushing this any more clearly. And... it's serviceable. It feels a little out of place in a game like this, and maybe that's why I'm not fully on board, but it works when it works. I just think Jin doesn't have enough screentime to really make the "canon bae" thing stick. Does he KNOW how close we've been getting with 20 other ghouls while he's been absent for several chapters in a row? Does he know he's on a 1-year timer for his slow burn bullshit? I like Jin, and he's one of the most shippable-with-MC characters for sure, but I just think it could be better. It should also be noted that MC is scared of Jin in a similar way that she's scared of Taiga or Romeo. I think honestly she would pick one of the men who hasn't threatened her life yet.

TOHMA: Like Romeo, I judge him one of the "does he even like women?"/"I think he's just using me to get to his husband" type ghouls. He has a flirty manner, but he uses it with everyone, so it means nothing to me when he talks to MC with that same expression. That said, he's more of a simp than Romeo, so while I think Romeo wouldn't care if you fucked his husband, I think Tohma wants you to. I think Tohma is into MC in the way that a stalker might be into a pair of dirty socks once worn by their crush. (And, on a less perverted note, he wants MC to pull Jin out of his depression since he realizes he can't do it by himself--especially now that they're fighting.) I don't think Tohma/MC works as a ship unless it's a complicated situationship with Jin.

KAITO: I don't think MC likes Kaito. She might just be very oblivious (very very VERY oblivious), but she's had many opportunities to respond to his advances and she just kind of no-sells them every time. To me, that kills off any possibility of romance. If MC were more of a self-insert avatar for the player, this wouldn't be an issue, as it would be up to the players to decide whether they liked Kaito or not; but TDB MC has her own thoughts and feelings, and we see them frequently during the episode where she meets Kaito, and the lack of reciprocation is deafening. Another, more possibly controversial point: I don't think Kaito likes MC. I think Kaito wants a girlfriend, and he has gotten it in his head that MC Is Girl, Therefore Perfect For Be Girlfriend. He treats her in a way that he's heard you are "supposed to" treat girls. He doesn't even NOTICE her suspicious behaviour when they meet because he's too busy metagaming the situation; he even gets it into his head that she's "nice" while she's lying to him. He never updates this perception of her. There is nothing about the character, or the way that players play the character, that Kaito actually LIKES. He just wants a girl. Any girl. Bad ship.

LUCAS: Another character who never really expresses attraction to the player character or anyone else. MC has a better relationship with him than she does with Kaito; Lucas doesn't freak out or get jealous or play 4D chess trying to get MC to fall in love with him, so MC can speak to him more honestly. That said, I believe Lucas isn't the sort of person to hide his feelings from MC (or even be able to), so I can't help but read his complete lack of flirtation as a lack of interest. I could believe MC has a one-sided crush on Lucas (which would also make for a really funny group dynamic), but that's about a best-case scenario.

HOTARUBI

HAKU: He really is just "the nice, chill guy" of the roster. Normally those don't compel me at all but Haku is really enjoyable. He's also, at unpredictable points, one of the more horny/flirty characters. Definitely has an attraction to MC, which is a big plus. MC never really gets the chance to respond to his advances, which in this type of game is the closest we get to a canonical attraction from her. (Because of course, they don't want to force players into a romance they might not want.) Good ship! Hard to write about or anything considering Haku is such a mysterious character, but I believe the attraction is real and not part of a dastardly plan, at the very least. Haku definitely puts MC at ease and I think she needs that in a partner.

SUBARU: Another "not sure if he even likes women" situation. Subaru doesn't even come close to the way he acts around Sho, when he's around MC. Subaru is a very cute-and-flustered-around-crushes type, and I think if he were into MC at all, we would see it. I think MC likes Subaru okay as a person but that's it.

ZENJI: This is going to be my most subjective one yet, I think. Zenji is very in his own head. What do I mean by that? I think he would compose seven love ballads for MC and none of them would really be for her. I think he's more attached to the artistic value of love than the feelings themselves. This harms his compatibility with anyone, MC included. As for MC, she actually seems to like Zenji more than the average person does! Or at least more than Haku does. Haku seems to mostly tolerate Zenji, while MC shows enthusiasm for his art in campus stories. Note: this ship becomes untenable in the event that Jiro demonstrates feelings for MC, as I don't think Zenji would compete with him.

MORTKRANKEN JIRO: Does not demonstrate feelings for MC. There are crumbs there, but you have to squint and squeeze to make a ship out of them. I could see MC being attracted to tall, gentle, reliable men, especially ones who made her feel secure during a difficult time in her life... but all we know for sure is that she didn't want to watch him undress for the bath.

YURI: I can see this guy as being the #1 strangest relationship she has with any of the ghouls. At times, he bullies and belittles her, like Ritsu or Romeo or Jin do. Other times, he is working tirelessly to cure her condition and taking the curse more seriously than she's seen anyone else do. He is a very confusingly-supportive love interest. I do not think MC would realistically find romance with him; tsundere that he is, she would need to be more active to really get through to him, and she's a pretty passive person. For Yuri's part, he is embarrassingly infatuated with MC. The man goes beet red when she grabs his hand, for fuck's sake. This is very funny as a one-sided ship and would be equally funny if Yuri decided to actually try confessing, but he is not the best match for MC.

VAGASTROM

ALAN: What do you get when you cross two shy people? Nothing whatsoever, that's what! Alan likes MC but has trouble expressing it and worries about hurting her. MC has a tendency to make herself small and placate people. I'm not sure their relationship can get off the ground in the first place, but if it does, I expect them to have communication issues right away. Mutual conflict-avoidance is not a great foundation for a relationship.

LEO: A great ship for MC if you hate her. Leo is toxic for anyone, but he openly hates MC and wants to get rid of her. If they get into a relationship, it will be one of those dastardly plans I warned of in the ancient scrolls (Haku's paragraph). Has the potential to be really hot though. I don't think MC hates Leo, but I think she avoids him because he seems to hate her. She could be easily manipulated if Leo is so inclined.

SHO: Viable! Sho has never been anything but nice to MC, and it shows in the way she greets him without hesitation. Sho in turn seems to actually like MC, in contrast to Leo. I can't say whether there's any attraction, but there's mutual trust.

OBSCUARY

RUI: Easily one of the most viable ships! There's the romanticism of their mutual curses (as is immediately pointed out by Rui), Rui's open flirtation with MC, the convenient excuse for why they can never hook up (because as stated before, when the excuse is botched it just makes it look like one or both characters isn't interested), and in addition to all that, Rui is one of the nicest and friendliest characters, which is something MC responds well to.

EDWARD: Definitely also a viable ship. MC isn't as intimidated by Ed as she is by characters like Taiga or Jin or even Yuri. The fact that he can overwrite her curse by making her a vampire adds to the intrigue. Ed is both openly horny for MC and expresses interest in being with her forever. The only potential speedbump here is that MC doesn't seem to consider Ed's offer a significant option; her default fear is still "I'm going to die/become a kyklos" rather than "I will have to become a vampire".

LYCA: Has a little potential, but once again the attraction is lacking. I could see Lyca growing to have feelings for MC over time, but it doesn't seem to be the case yet. MC seems to trust Lyca even if he is capable of violence.

In summary BEST SHIPS FOR MC: Haru, Rui, Ed MOST INTERESTING SHIPS: Yuri, Leo WORST SHIPS FOR MC: Taiga, Romeo

[hikawilla]

Mother

Yuu = reader = female. Yuu is over the age of 20. The events take place after book 7

Silver's life was never “normal” from other people's point of view. His non-blood father was a fairy with a perpetually young face, a former general feared by enemies and all Briar Valley. Growing up Silver in the forest, deprived of all the benefits of civilization, he trained every day to become a knight and protect the king and his father. Together with his father, they used their own hands to find and prepare food.

And when he entered the school, you could say he was learning to live again. For Silver, all this modern technology was magic, although he lived in a house where magic was something ordinary. Silver was surprised by many things at first, but he soon got used to it.

Now new changes were taking place in Silver's life, or rather not by the white-haired man himself, but by his father… But the young knight himself was indirectly affected. Lilia began to meet Yuu, a young woman from another world, who did not possess a single grain of magic. This girl appeared out of nowhere and immediately attracted attention. First of all, Yuu was the only girl in the school. Secondly, being in her first year, she was the oldest, no one knew exactly Yuu's real age, and the girl herself said every time: “It's not proper to ask a lady about her age!” But everyone agreed that Yuu was definitely over 20 years old. Simply because only an adult complained about taxes, lack of time for everything, and expensive medicines.

Silver had crossed paths with Yuu a couple times before the events with Malleus. Silver was uncomfortable recalling those events. It came out that Silver ended up calling Yuu 'mom'. It was just that Yuu's demeanor and voice was somehow more motherly. A little later, at the riding club, Silver learned that many people called Yuu 'mom', and some guys complained, “Just when I thought I had finally gotten rid of my mother's guidance, a second mother appeared at school. A nightmare! The quiet school life is over.” Silver didn't know what a mother's love was, he only had his adoptive father, but deep down he was happy that he had touched at least a little bit of his mother's so-called “mother's guidance”. And in his father's dream, Silver kept calling Yuu 'mom'. By the way, Sebek also called Yuu “mom” a couple times. And the girl herself reacted each time, “Are you kids okay?”

In Lilia Silver's dream, it seemed that Yuu's main fear was if he or Sebek or Grim got wounds. After each fight, the girl would look at the boys, treat their wounds if necessary. Grumbling and if necessary, she could argue with Lilia to protect the guys. Silver remembered the moment when it was finally over. Everyone was rejoicing, dancing and laughing. Malleus had given Silver his father's last name and they were finally a complete family. A slap rang out, it was Yuu hitting Lilia. Lilia's head was turned to the side and his eyes were widened with shock.

“That's for making your sons cry,” was the only thing Yuu said, and as if nothing had happened a second ago, continued to celebrate further. And towards the end of the evening, Lilia walked over and asked: “Yuu, do you remember that dialog we had?” “Which one…? And you about that conversation, to be honest, I forgot about it,” Yuu said sincerely, but everyone could hear some trepidation in the girl's voice. “It's mutual,” Yuu looked at Lilia with shock in her eyes, and in the next second, his father kissed Yuu. Everyone was shocked.

Lilia and Yuu started dating. Silver's father went off the rails. Lilia became more clingy, greedy, and reluctant to leave Yuu. At some point, everyone began to think that Yuu was now living in Lilia's room. The young woman often spent her free time with the Diasomnia boys. Watching movies with them, having tea parties, just chatting. And a huge plus was that Yuu knew how to cook. Silver, Sebek, and Malleus ate Yuu's food with tears of happiness and begged her to cook more often.

Lilia was happy, and Silver was happy for his father. And the young man himself was happy, he had a mom. A mom who praises him. A mom who scolds him for his carelessness that led to his injury. A mom who treated his wounds and asked, “Does it sting?” and gently blew on the wound. The mom who helped brush his hair. The mom who covered him with a blanket, kissed his forehead, and wished him pleasant dreams. The mom who hugged me, stroked my head and said: “You're doing great.” Silver, realized what a complete family was and his heart was overflowing with love. “Yuu, can I call you mom?”

[bonewaryreblogs]

I Finally Posted Something!

I'm so fucking excited!

Chapter 1 of "Building Ballasts" has finally gotten to the point that I'm ok sharing it. It's the part of the story where Danny and Jazz get Adopted and move to Gotham, but I still want to write the Battle with Pariah and Danny's First Deathday, too, I'll just label them as prequals.

Anyways, here's the link to Ao3 as well as the full chapter under the Read More!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/66145045/chapters/170472640

Batman had met Danny Phantom on the first day of summer vacation. Phantom seemed young and inexperienced but the group of powerful ghosts looked to him for guidance, for protection. Batman had watched the ghost hero stand against the self-proclaimed Ghost King Pariah alone...

And win.

That was weeks ago.

Batman knew that Phantom was too powerful to be left to his own devices. He would be a difficult, if not impossible, enemy to defeat if he ever went rogue. But, how do you eliminate such a threat?

You become their mentor. Their safety. The person they turn to when they’re at their breaking point.

And you make sure they don’t break.

~@~

Phantom smiled as he flew through the cooling, almost-autumn air, the sky still painted in a purple indigo ombre from the setting sun. He only had a week and a half before school started again, so he wanted to enjoy what time he had left of summer vacation; and what better way to relax than patrolling his haunt, making sure it, and all of its inhabitants, were safe? Phantom was so glad he finally had an explanation for that deep itch that protecting others scratched. Sure, it was because of his ghostliness, the implications of which were still a little uncomfortable to think about sometimes, but at least he knew there was an explanation for it, that he wasn’t just crazy.

A shadow shifted in his peripherals and Phantom immediately braced himself for an incoming attack. His ghost sense hadn’t gone off but ghosts weren't the only ones attacking him regularly, and they were being nicer to him lately anyways. Besides, a quick reaction time had saved his half-life more often than he’d care to think about.

What he didn’t expect was to see Batman on a random rooftop a ways off.

Phantom had felt like he was being watched for most of the summer, so Batman had probably been in Amity for about as long. Since Phantom hadn’t actually seen him earlier, Batman must have kept himself hidden the whole time he'd been here, so Phantom only saw him now because Batman wanted to be seen. Which means he probably wanted to talk, since the alternative is a fight and it would probably be more obvious if that was his goal.

Phantom hesitated. He was supposed to meet up with the rest of Team Phantom for patrol, and they’d be suspicious if he was too late, would probably go looking for him, and if Batman had wanted to talk to all of them, he would’ve shown himself to all of them. Nodding to himself, Phantom turned to face Batman and held up his hands, both index fingers pointing up, extended his left hand at arm’s length, held his right hand to his chest, then moved his right hand towards his left hand. Finally, he pointed towards the center of town. It was sign language, loosely meaning “I’ll meet you” and a general direction for where. While he didn’t use them often himself, since he was usually the one fighting, they had all learned some hand signs in case they couldn’t talk for one reason or another, and Phantom recognized them well enough even if he didn’t practice them much.

Batman nodded sharply and Phantom smiled, giving a playful salute before taking off again. He’d just have to convince the Team to patrol separately tonight so he could talk to Batman alone without raising suspicion.

-

Thankfully, it hadn’t been all that hard to convince them to split up and Phantom headed into town, quickly found Batman again, and floated at eye level a careful distance away. Sure, they’d been on the same side against Pariah earlier that summer, but that was an apocalyptic emergency so there was still a non-zero chance Batman agreed with the Anti-Ecto Acts. It had been a month and a half, there was no doubt he knew about them by now.

“Hello again, Batman,” Phantom greeted. “To what do I owe the honor?”

“You didn’t seem surprised to see me,” Batman stated in lieu of his own greeting.

“I had a feeling you were here but couldn’t really confirm it,” Phantom shrugged, playing it cool but not taking his eyes off Batman. “So, do you need something or is this more of a personal visit?”

“A bit of both,” Batman admitted. “Is there somewhere more secure we can talk?”

Suspicion rising along with one eyebrow, Phantom hesitated.

“... Sure, follow me.”

Confidant Batman would keep up (and wouldn’t shoot him in the back), Phantom flew off to the Library, the tallest building in the area he was supposed to be patrolling. On the Library’s roof, Phantom “sat” cross legged in midair a few feet from a small table with four chairs and a patio umbrella, letting Batman decide if he wanted to sit or stand. Batman looked around suspiciously.

“It’s already closed for the night and the janitors don’t come around until later. Plus, the cameras are just for show, they’re not even plugged in,” Phantom explained his choice. “I have to at least pretend I’m patrolling my section. So. Why are you in my territory? Illinois is pretty far from New Jersey.”

“You and your team have been doing well, considering what you have to work with,” Batman started without preamble, apparently electing to stand. Phantom sat up a little straighter at the praise. “However, you are all young and untrained. I have reason to believe the situation here is going to shift soon and I don’t want you four to deal with it alone. I have Oracle looking into the GIW but communication is difficult with the media blackout they’ve established-”

“Media blackout! Tucker totally called it.”

“- But what little I’ve managed to discover on my own is troubling, to say the least,” Batman continued as if Phantom hadn’t said anything. “That will take time and legal action to take care of, but it will be taken care of. Unfortunately, there is a more time sensitive issue that concerns me. The Doctors Fenton meet the criteria of supervillainy and I intend to arrest them for it.”

“WHAT!?” Phantom cried in shock. “No no no, there must be a mistake! My- the Fentons aren’t villains! They’re just eccentric and misguided!”

“They regularly shoot to kill at the town’s local hero,” Batman stated flatly.

“Like I said, misguided,” Phantom argued with a helpless shrug. “They think they’re doing the right thing, and it’s not like they’re the only ones.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time a genius turned into a supervillain because they thought the ends justified the means,” Batman barreled forwards, ignoring the bait to distract him. “They are a danger to those around them, regularly causing far more property damage than you or your rogues, their ideology is at risk of classifying more than just ghosts as non-sentient, which is concerning enough on its own, and they are, at best, neglectful of their children’s safety.” Batman narrowed his eyes. “And that’s not even counting their interdimensional crimes.”

Phantom froze, eyes wide.

“... interdimensional...?” he choked.

“They punched a hole into another dimension and began hunting and experimenting on the native residents of said dimension,” Batman spelled it out and Phantom cringed as he realized Batman wasn’t wrong.

“It sounds really bad when you say it like that,” he shrank away, hands fidgeting nervously. Batman narrowed his eyes.

“Regardless of their beliefs, Phantom, such acts are grounds for war,” Batman emphasized and Phantom stiffened. “If we don’t take care of this problem ourselves, someone else will, and the rest of the planet may get caught in the crossfire. As a hero yourself, I’m sure you understand that I cannot let that happen.”

Phantom looked away, eyes wide and unseeing as the implications set in. He felt a thousand miles away from his body, thoughts buzzing as he couldn’t breathe. Thank his ghostly biology that he didn’t need the oxygen in this form.

“You’ve done well keeping the peace so far,” Batman said, a little softer. “And I know it’s hard to betray loved ones-” Phantom’s head snapped up. “- But you must recognize that they will inevitably do something that cannot be undone. Yes, it might be done to you, and you will forgive them because they’re your parents, but it might be to Ember, or the Box Ghost, or any number of the peaceful ghosts that inhabit this town. I’ve seen you release the ghosts they do catch, but what happens if you’re too late? You can’t be everywhere, Phantom. You’re already running yourself ragged trying to plug leaks, and that's without school taking up more of your time and attention. As heroes, we have a responsibility to anticipate problems and solve them before they happen if we can, not just clean up the aftermath.”

Batman paused to let Phantom process this, his face saying everything Batman needed to hear of his racing thoughts, before he finally settled into somber acceptance as he floated limply a foot lower than he started. He gave a hollow chuckle, with a smile to match.

“Shoulda known you’d figure me out,” Phantom murmured, focusing on the revelation that was easier to swallow. “Can’t hide anything from the World’s Greatest Detective.” His fake smile fell as he curled in on himself. “I know they’re not the best parents, but they’re still mine...”

“I know,” Batman said in an empathetic rumble, accepting the implied surrender before he straightened. “Once they’re arrested, they’ll have a choice. They can go to court and face trial, or they can take the plea deal they’ll be offered.”

Phantom looked up, a fragile hope in his eyes.

“They would still, technically, be serving a prison sentence, but they would be able to work at the Justice Foundation as reforming villains as a form of community service, directly supervised by Justice League heroes and trusted affiliates. Despite their beliefs, they are still brilliant scientists, and humanity can still benefit from their work, but they will lose custody of you and your sister, as is standard procedure for any dependent of a reforming villain.”

Phantom’s face fell at the thought but he didn’t interrupt.

“You won’t be cut off from them, though,” Batman continued. “There would be generous visitation available, but it would be entirely on your terms. They could request to see you, and you would be informed of the request, but they couldn’t demand it; you would never be forced to see them if you didn’t want to, though you could visit them as often as you’d like.”

There was a beat of silence before Batman looked away.

“Honestly, I would’ve wanted to get you two out of there anyways,” his tone was suddenly more disdainful than clinical. “Not only is that entire house a deathtrap, to say nothing about their lax lab safety, but it’s only a matter of time before they find out about your condition, or your sister’s contamination reaches a threshold where they no longer see her as their daughter. You’re a smart kid, Danny, I know you can see it. Denial is only going to get someone hurt.”

Phantom’s eyes widened in shock, then horror as reality sank in.

“I hadn’t... thought about Jazz being in danger...” Phantom trailed off, barely audible as his hands covered his mouth. “We have some contingencies for me, but...”

“I would prefer to have your cooperation with this,” Batman continued, back to distant but determined. “But I will be arresting them in the next few days, with or without your help.”

Phantom flinched but didn’t object.

“Since they will be arrested as interdimensional supervillains, the Justice League will be in charge of placing you and your sister with a foster family. We will ensure you two stay together, at least, with either a League hero or a trusted associate. However... I would like to take you in myself.”

Phantom’s jaw dropped, slowly turning to face Batman.

“You have a lot of potential as a hero, as do the rest of Team Phantom,” Batman continued, with the ghost of a smile. “However, since only you and your sister are being displaced right now, I would like to train you two personally if you’d like to continue on this path. I will accept if you decide you want to be placed with someone else, and I won’t force either of you to join Gotham’s nightlife if you decide to focus on your civilian lives instead, but know that the offer stands. I want you to have as much say in your future as I can reasonably give you, considering the circumstances. Take some time to think, but your sister also needs to know. I had planned to tell her tonight as well, unless you’d prefer to tell her yourself.”

“This is... a lot,” Phantom said slowly. “As much as I’d like to be there when you talk to Jazz, I’m going to need time to process all of this and I don’t think I can finish that before Jazz would need to know.” He took a deep breath he technically didn’t need. “I’m gonna go ahead and patrol while you go talk to Jazz. Oh right! What about Sam and Tucker? They’re part of Team Phantom, too, and you said we all have potential, so...”

“I did,” Batman nodded. “However, they still have families to return to, while you and your sister are being displaced immediately. The Justice League will be keeping an eye on them, though. They are capable individuals, despite their age, but more than that, they have proven to be highly motivated to change the world for the better. That drive is hard to come by and is far more important than any superpower. They’d likely become heroes even without our intervention.”

“Yeah,” Phantom said quietly, smiling slightly despite himself, full of pride for his two best friends. “Yeah, ok. I think I can live with that.”

“Have a good patrol, Phantom,” Batman nodded as he turned towards Jazz’s section, obviously knowing where to find her already. Just how much did he know, anyways?

“Yeah, you too,” Phantom replied reflexively before screwing up his face, Batman already long gone. “Or something. Close enough,” he sighed and flew off.

He had a lot to think about.

-

Team Phantom reconvened around midnight.

The Box Ghost was the only troublemaker tonight and Sam had proudly announced that she’d handled him all by herself; they were all supposed to call Phantom for backup if they had to fight a ghost, but Sam always liked to push her limits. While praising her, Jazz and Phantom had shared a look, a silent acknowledgement that Batman had, indeed, spoken to them both.

Neither said anything to Sam or Tucker.

The siblings managed to act relatively normal, at least nothing that couldn’t be explained away easily enough, and said their good nights as they all headed home, Sam and Tucker on their scooters while Phantom transformed so Danny could ride back with Jazz in her car, citing that he was just a little tired tonight, nothing to worry about. They trusted Sam and Tucker, of course they did, but this was a little too personal to share just yet, even with them. At least, not before they could talk to each other first.

Finally alone, the car was quiet and tense as Jazz drove even slower than usual, neither knowing where to start.

“Guess you were right,” Danny’s whisper was deafening in the silence. “You and all your psychobabble. Even Batman thinks we’re in danger with mom and dad, and he lives in Gotham.”

“I’m sorry, little brother,” Jazz breathed, eyes locked on the road.

“’s hardly your fault,” Danny shook his head. “You took care of me more than they ever did.”

“It wasn’t enough.”

“It wasn’t your job.”

They lapsed into silence again. Neither really wanted to rehash the old, tired argument; there was too much going on right now.

“I feel awful admitting it,” the steering wheel creaked in Jazz’s grip. “But I’m... relieved that they’re being arrested.”

Danny bristled, biting back the compulsion to defend their parents, before slumping into his seat with a defeated sigh. Jazz would’ve known the words were empty anyways.

“He asked for our help,” Danny said, looking out the window without really seeing anything. “I won’t stop him, but I don’t think I can help him, either. Even though I realize now that you’re in danger, too, I-I don’t know if I can betray them like that. It goes against everything in my core...”

Danny’s voice cracked at the end, tears pricking at his eyes. Jazz bit her lip hard to keep herself from breaking down, too; she had to keep it together, keep her eyes on the road ahead. For Danny. She swallowed hard.

“You won’t have to,” she finally said as she pulled into the driveway, turning to him. “I’ll take care of that part. I’ve been compiling evidence for years, planning to take custody of you as soon as I legally could.”

Danny stared at his sister in shock.

“You were gonna...” he trailed off. Ruin your life for me, was left unsaid. He huffed as the tears escaped, roughly wiping them off his cheeks with the heel of his palm. “Honestly, I really shouldn’t be surprised. You’ve always put me first,” Danny’s voice was scratchy with barely contain emotion. He gave her a grim, joyless smile. “I guess, if it means you can finally take care of yourself instead of trying to raise me, I can’t be too mad about all this.”

“Not to mention you can finally get a mentor out of it,” Jazz suggested hopefully. “One that’s human, and isn’t a crazy fruitloop!”

They both laughed so they wouldn’t cry, exiting the car. Before Danny opened the front door, though, Jazz pulled him into a tight hug, which he returned immediately, despite his surprise. Neither commented on the other’s trembling.

“Whatever happens,” Jazz took a shaky breath. “Just know that I love you, ok?”

“I love you too, Jazz,” Danny squeezed tighter. “More than all the stars in the sky.”

[joonie-beanie]

Roommates [Diluc/Reader + Kaeya/Reader College AU]

Diluc and the Reader are roommates with an open third bedroom, and when the rental company assigns them a third roommate that happens to be Kaeya--Diluc's childhood ex-best friend--a series of drama ensues. And as the reader puts herself in the middle, attempting to help mend the rift in their relationship, her relationship with the two men progresses in turn. (But who ever said progress was linear?)

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Friends, Friends with Benefits, Poly Endgame, f!reader

Words: ~185k (34 chapters - complete)

Note: Obviously, posting 34 chapters/185k words to tumblr would be...a lot. But, I adore this fic, so I'm going to post some of my favorite snippets below to ✨entice✨ you. Read the whole fic on AO3

Chapter 1: Humble Beginnings

You’re just finishing up your break when you feel your phone begin to buzz in your pocket. The only reason you answer is because the caller ID tells you it’s Diluc.

“Hey, I’m at work and my break is ending, what’s—”

“Homicide has never seemed so tempting.”

You pause, staring at your phone with a great amount of concern. Pulling it away from your ear, you check the time.

“Um…my shift will be over in an hour. Can you…wait to commit manslaughter until I get home? Does this have to do with our new roommate?”

Diluc scoffs, and you can hear him pacing around his room.

“Yeah, the bastard is moving his stuff in right now.”

You wince. “Bad first impression?”

“Far from the first,” Diluc responds, making you even more confused. “But the impression is still bad.”

You sigh, ducking farther into the kitchen where your manager won’t be able to see you. The last thing you want is to get caught taking a phone call at work, but dropping the call seems like a bad idea. You’re not sure you’ve ever heard Diluc this upset before.

“Do you…wanna explain what’s going on? Why are you so mad?”

There’s a long, frustrated exhale. Diluc remains quiet for a moment, then—

“A while ago I mentioned that I had a best friend in childhood, but we had a falling out, yes?”

“Yeah. I think his name was…Kaeya, right?”

“Well…,” Diluc moves to his closed bedroom door and opens it a sliver. He can see across the living room and down the short hall at the other end of the apartment. Boxes litter the hallway, and he can hear Kaeya moving things around the previously vacant room. The one directly across from yours.

“He’s our new roommate?” you guess, noting his silence. There’s an affirmative grunt. You feel your heart drop—sympathetic for Diluc.

“I mean…if you can’t stand the guy, we could always talk to the apartment management. Obviously I don’t want you to have to live with someone who will only bring you stress…”

Diluc makes a sound, like he doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t want to let this whole thing get to him as badly as it is, but…it’s Kaeya. And he’s their new roommate. Diluc has to live with him. And the school year doesn’t end…FOR 8 MONTHS.

“Diluc?” you ask, worried at his lack of response. A moment later you hear the jingle of his keys, and the sound of a door being opened.

“I need a drink,” he says, and if you weren’t worried before, then you certainly are now.

Chapter 3: Budding Relationships

“Do you think,” Kaeya starts a few days later, settling down on the couch beside you. “Diluc would be alright if I stopped by Angel’s Share on Halloween? I hear that they have quite the reputation for their holiday festivities, and I know a few people who are going to be there.”

You silently consider his question, watching as he steals the other half of your blanket, and throws it over his lap. You debate shoving your cold toes beneath his butt, but decide against it.

“As long as you’re a paying customer, I doubt he will care,” you say honestly. “He takes his job seriously, and on a busy night like Halloween, I don’t think he’ll pay you much mind. You know, so long as you don’t cause any trouble.”

Kaeya hums, posing a hand beneath his chin.

“What counts as “trouble”?”

You flash him an unimpressed stare. He smiles innocently.

“Trouble like…flirting with people and making them uncomfortable, starting a fight, or breaking glasses, plates, yourself, or others.”

Kaeya is silent for a moment.

“…I think I can manage that. After all, most people only crave more once I start flirting with them.”

You roll your eyes at his comment, gently kicking against his thigh. Kaeya laughs, grinning at you.

“What? I’m not lying.”

“You are such an egotist,” you huff. You grip onto the blanket, preparing to pull it off of him as punishment, but he stops you from doing so. His hand finds your ankle though the soft fabric of the blanket, and he holds you tightly, stopping you, or the blanket, from going anywhere.

“I like to think I’m simply confident,” he says, holding your gaze. His cerulean eyes are unwavering, and he gives your ankle a squeeze. Your cheeks warm in response to the action, as you realize that this is the first time you and Kaeya have been so close.

It doesn’t feel strange, and you don’t dislike it either, but…you’re certainly caught off guard.

“Would you run if I approached, Y/N?”

He grins, expectant of your response. He’s trying to tease you, you realize, and you refuse to let him get away with it so easily.

“Maybe if I didn’t know you, I’d stay,” you say, tugging your foot from his grasp with a pleased smile. His hand had gone slack at your comment—your words taking a second to fully soak into his brain. A sound of disbelief bubbles from his throat.

“Wait, so you’re saying you’d run because you know me?”

The shit eating grin you attempt to hide behind the blanket is telling enough. He grabs the pillow beside him and tosses it at you. It smacks you between the eyes before tumbling over your head, and the sound of distress you make causes him to laugh.

“You’re such a little brat.”

Chapter 7: Fight and Flight

“You can’t blame me for everything, Diluc. I didn’t kill Crepus. I made bad decisions, I acted in ways that I shouldn’t have, because I was lost, and confused, and trying to deny the reality I lived in, but…I’m not the catalyst to all your problems. Just because we fought doesn’t give you the right to make me a scapegoat for the rest of our li—”

“Is this your attempt at an apology?” Diluc interrupts him, voice carefully measured. His hand drops from Kaeya’s shirt, his gaze mindlessly boring into the space between them as his fist clenches at his side.

“If so, it’s shit.”

He’s nearly shaking—struggling to contain the barrage of emotions that assault him.

“Listen, I’m sorry,” Kaeya says, sincere, but the words only make Diluc’s chest sting.

In the past, Diluc had imagined that when Kaeya finally said those words to him—if he ever did—he’d finally feel peace. He’d attain closure. He would stop feeling hate, and sorrow at any thought of his father.

But the words don’t heal his wound.

Because Kaeya isn’t the cause of his suffering.

He’s known this for a while, now, but the reality of it is a pill that he can’t swallow. After all, if the blame doesn’t lie on Kaeya, then that means their severed ties are Diluc’s fault. If he hadn’t acted so rashly after their fight in the manor—if he had listened to Adeline—had actually allowed himself to properly grieve, to sit back and breathe, and process everything—it’s very likely that they would still be friends.

In the end, it’s Diluc who chose not to return to school. It’s Diluc who deleted Kaeya’s number from his contacts, and forbade the house staff from inviting Kaeya to Crepus’ funeral. It’s Diluc who stands here now, refusing to look at Kaeya because he knows he’s spent years directing his spite at the other, spinning his everlasting grief into anger that is, undoubtedly, directed at the wrong person.

There’s no one to blame for the death of his father. (Whichever god made it downpour that fateful day, perhaps—sending Crepus’ car skidding, and flipping across wet pavement until the car frame crumpled, and pinned his father inside.)

But there is someone to blame for the situation the two of them find themselves in now, and it’s Diluc.

Finally, Diluc forces the pill down his own throat.

Instantly, the anger inside of him is extinguished—replaced with a guilt so heavy that he feels like he may puke.

“—the timing was fucked, we shouldn’t have fought but—,” Kaeya grabs him by his shirt, and Diluc realizes that Kaeya has been talking this whole time. He hasn’t heard a word of it.

“—you can’t keep—,” it’s then that Diluc finally looks up at Kaeya, and immediately, Kaeya’s words die on his tongue. Diluc has never looked so broken—unshed tears resting on his lower lashes, his throat tight, and chest shaking beneath Kaeya’s grasp as he struggles to breathe.

He’s panicking under the weight of his sins—his hard exterior torn away—and Kaeya can see it all.

Chapter 9: Final Hurdle

You’d been so caught up with studying this afternoon that you’d forgotten to buy a proper lunch on campus—instead snacking on granola bar from a vending machine just before your afternoon final. And considering you’d been too concerned with cramming in more studying when you’d arrived home, it’d completely slipped your mind to eat dinner…

 It’s no wonder you feel like shit.

Pulling your door open, you fumble your way into the dark kitchen—too tired to even attempt finding the light switch on the wall. Right now, your only concern is getting some more water and some food, and you’re pretty sure you can manage such a small feat without any light.

…at least, on a normal day you could. Tonight, however, you’re feeling pretty out of it, so when you take one step too close to the sink—your knee knocking into the cupboard beneath the basin—your legs immediately give out beneath you.

Instinctively, you grapple for the counter. One of your hands manages to get a grip, but your strength fails you, and you go falling to your knees. The weight of your body hitting the floor successfully rattles the empty beer bottles Kaeya has lined up near the fridge, and one of them tips over—rolling off the counter.

It hits the ground with a loud clatter, but thankfully doesn’t splinter into a million pieces.

…unlike your sanity.

Tired, and hungry, and frustrated with yourself, you simply lean your head forward, your forehead knocking against the cupboard as you sit there, trying to piece yourself back together. Your head goes blank for a second—your sleep-riddled mind begging you to just get some rest already—and unconsciously, you pick up on the creak of a door opening nearby.

“Y/N?”

It takes you a moment to register the sound of Diluc’s voice, and the thud of his bare feet hurriedly padding across the wooden floor. A hand lands on your shoulder, and when warm fingers skim against your face—cupping your cheek, and turning your head to the side—you finally manage to open your eyes.

The amount of concern painted across Diluc’s face makes your heart crack, and finally, the stress that you’ve been attempting to play off overwhelms you.

Tears blot your eyes.

“What happened?” he asks, his gaze scanning over your crumpled form for a sign of any injuries. “Are you okay?”

“I’m just—,” your voice catches in your throat, fisted hand lifting to wipe at your cheeks as tears topple past your bottom lashes. “—I’m sick of finals. I wanna pass, but it feels like it’s hopeless, and I’m tired.”

Diluc frowns, his thumb swiping across your dampened skin.

“Hey, it’s okay—you’ll be fine.”

“But—”

“You’ve just been pushing yourself too hard,” he tells you, sitting himself on the floor beside you. He shifts his hand to cradle the back of your head, his other arm hugging around your waist, and in one smooth motion, you find yourself cradled against his chest.

Seeking comfort, you immediately wrap your arms around him, hiding your face against his collarbone. Your torso shakes as you try, and fail, to stop yourself from crying.

Chapter 13: Snow-Covered Memories

“I saw his portrait,” you quietly respond, motioning your head towards the frame on the wall. “It was the first time I’ve seen a picture of him, but I connected the dots since the resemblance is uncanny.”

Diluc breathes a laugh at that, stroking his fingers against his chin. 

“Should I grow a goatee?”

“You’d look handsome regardless,” you tell him without thinking, flashing him a smile. A small look of surprise flashes in Diluc’s eyes, but it passes quickly, and he thanks you while moving to set Crepus’ journal back in its appropriate spot on the desk.

“There were some notes about you and Kaeya in there. It’s clear he was fond of you both.”

“He’d probably be a little disappointed knowing what all happened between us after he died,” Diluc responds, sighing to himself. Immediately, you reach over and grab his hand. You give it a firm squeeze, catching his gaze.

“I think he’d be proud that you and Kaeya were able to talk and reconcile. I can’t imagine him being anything but proud of you, Diluc. He…I mean, he’s your father. He loved you, and always will. Unconditionally.”

Diluc is still, for a moment, words escaping him. Then, you feel a tug on your hand, and suddenly your face is against Diluc’s chest—his arms wrapping tightly around you. You can smell the earthy scent of his cologne, and when you adjust the angle of your head so your cheek is flush against his sweater instead of your nose, you swear you can hear the thumping of his heart.

Despite being caught off guard by his sudden show of affection, you immediately accept it—hugging him in return. You’re trying to figure out what silly comment you should say to abate your own nerves when Diluc finally speaks up.

“I love you,” he says.

Your heart leaps violently, and for a moment, you swear the earth stops spinning.

He…

Your fingers grip his sweater a little tighter, and you feel blood rushing to your face.

He’s never said that before. 

Why is he saying it now? What is he thinking? Has something changed? He’s typically not so affectionate, and he sounds so genuine. Does that mean that maybe he—

“I love you too,” you respond, your voice nearly a whisper. The words come out before you even realize that you’re speaking—a little part of your brain forcing them out of you, knowing that if you wait too long to say it back, it will make your words seem insincere. As if you’re only saying them back because he’d said them first. But god, that would be the farthest thing from the truth, because you adore him so wholly. Just being here, hugging him like this, feeling his warmth beneath your fingertips—makes you ache with affection.

Chapter 16: A Bard's Wisdom

“I can feel you staring, princess. Something on your mind?”

Ah, shit. 

You feel blood rush into your face. Right, you’ve been looking at him this whole time…

Taking a deep breath, you attempt to remain cool despite being caught. As much as you want to leave it be, you don’t think you’ll be satisfied if you do. You need Kaeya to clarify.

“Do you remember New Year’s Eve?” you ask, your eyes still following Kaeya as he moves over to snag a bag of chips from atop the fridge—finished PB&J sandwich in his grasp.

“Mhmm, how could I forget?”

Right, you’d had a breakdown…

“Well…I remembered that you offered to be a distraction for me, and—,” you feel a jolt of nervousness, but you push through it, “…I guess I was just wondering…what kind of distraction were you talking about?”

Kaeya doesn’t even hesitate with his answer.

“Whatever kind of distraction you want it to be.”

He’s not even looking at you as he says it—too busy frowning at his chip options. Not finding anything he wants, he huffs and grabs a can of soda from the fridge instead. 

Still standing in the same spot you’ve been since walking in, it takes your mind a second to catch up to what he’s said.

When it finally sinks in, you can’t help but scowl.

“That doesn’t really answer my question.”

“I believe it does,” Kaeya responds coolly. With his lunch finally put together, he moves to sit at the kitchen table. He’s just about to take a bite of his sandwich when you speak up again.

“No, it really doesn’t. A “distraction” could be taken in so many ways. I just want to make sure I’m not misinterpreting what you’re saying—”

“You wouldn’t be able to do that, because there's no chance to misinterpret the meaning when anything is on the table,” he cuts you off, his gaze finally finding yours. He looks calm—like an open book, with nothing to hide—and it catches you off guard, seeing him so serious for once. You suppose you’re grateful he’s not teasing you when you’ve gathered all your courage to ask him but…this side of him is a little off putting. Because if he says that, then that means…

“Anything…?”

Kaeya, who has somehow managed to eat a majority of his sandwich in the few seconds you’ve been quiet (how do guys eat so fast? ) takes his final few bites and swig of soda before answering.

“I offered to be a distraction, and I’m leaving it up to you to decide what kind of distraction you’d want me to be,” he says. Pushing up from his chair, he tosses his plate in the trash, and then steps closer to you. You almost want to run, when his eye catches yours once more. 

“But if you need me to spell it out, then yes—fucking could also count as a distraction.”

Chapter 17: The Distraction

...

Let's just say the E rating starts from this chapter (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧₊˚⊹♡

AO3

[rochichan]

My I Can’t Help But Wonder animatic is finally done!

Overall, my goal was to capture the unsaid emotions and dynamic between Odysseus and Telemachus in this song. What would it feel like meeting someone you’ve longed for your entire life but at the same time that person is a complete stranger? It’s an interesting premise!! I really used this animatic to practice character expressions/acting, cause there’s a lot of statements in the song that can be interpreted differently depending on how it’s delivered.

I had many thoughts while working on this one, so going to ramble below!! (Sorry if grammar and thoughts are all over)

Telemachus

For Telemachus, the phrase “never meet your heroes” was something that I thought personally applied to Telly—like imagine the first impression of your father is this random man mercilessly killing several men??? How would you feel? Would your love for your father waver? My personal hc on Telly’s idea of his dad is he LOOOOOVES him, to the point where he blindly thinks he can do no wrong. So when “Odysseus” happens, it’s kinda a breaking point for him—realizing, “oh… he might not be the person I thought he was.”

In “Odysseus”, I wanted a mix of fear and curiosity within Telly. Since there’s so much going on, he’s processing a lot of things, so he doesn’t fully realize that his dad is here. In “ICHBW”, since he’s now processing the fact that this man is 100% his dad, the emotions evolve to fearful vulnerability and curious desperation. Throughout the song, Telly is so eager but at the same time so careful and unsure (he holds his spear tightly cause he’s still scared and only drops it when his dad opens his arm to receive him!)

Odysseus

For Odysseus, the overall thought would be “I worked so hard for this, but do I deserve it?” I wanted a mix of longing and guilt in his actions. It hurts so much more knowing that “ICHBW” opens with the same motif of “Just a Man”—It’s like as an audience we get reminded of like “Hey, remember where we started? As we’re all familiar with the “man vs monster” idea in the musical, I tried to make it obvious that Odysseus is basically fighting himself internally throughout the song (at this point of the story, he is his number one enemy).

Some moments I personally liked:

When he runs to Telly down the stairs to close the gap between them, but shortly after, pushes him away once he realizes the blood on his hands was placed on his son’s face—as an artist, this moment gets me so “hehehehehe >:^)” but also breaks my heart lol

Telly being indifferent to the blood on his face—at first, you can see the initial shock at how his dad carelessly placed his bloody hand, but then Telly lets it pass seeing how quick his dad was like “oh whoops”. It’s a quick moment but wanted to show how Telly’s priority is on the fact that “his dad is here” instead of what “his dad did/has done”

Another moment I really loved when Odysseus opened his arms for Telly. He didn’t want to force Telly in an embrace but instead gave him the choice. It puts Ody in a vulnerable light of possibly being rejected, and also a nice callback to what Polites had taught.

When Athena hopes. During the draft change, I changed the moment in the orb she’s holding. Originally, it was going to be her stopping younger Ody from killing a boar, like a “what if” situation. But I wanted it to be moments that had already happened; so it’s more of a “we could’ve done this differently” instead of “look at this alternate universe”

When Odysseus sees his past with Polities and Eurolychus. I just love callbacks lol. Again, it’s more of a “we could’ve done this differently, but it’s too late now” moment. Also, by passing the responsibility to Athena, he’s accepted the fact that he’s not the same man from before.

Other thoughts

When i first heard this song, it was a progress draft Jorge has posted on TikTok. I cried so much LOL solo vocal and piano just makes it so much sadder.

Man… can’t believe this will be my last one… it’s been 2 years since i got into this musical

ANYWAYS hope u enjoy and thanks for watching/reading :’)