#i'm sorry this is vague. this is really only pointed at one person who i don't really want to publicly humiliate

[targentis]

friends, romans, countrymen, if you have repeatedly:

crossed someone's boundaries

disrespected their significant other

generally acted inappropriately toward them, thus ultimately leading to the ending of your friendship with that person

no, the correct approach to this is Not just showing up like nothing happened and going "i miss being friends, i want to be friends again." cool! i'm sure you do. did you give any consideration as to why the person you're not friends with doesn't reciprocate that feeling? great pro-tip to all who needs it: think outside of your own experience for once, and you might get better results with your relationships. just my two cents.

[moe-broey]

Oh. Huh.

[firelightfics]

Work your magic.

Scar x Mage! Healer! Gn! Reader

From this message (CAUSE I FORGOT TO TURN THE ASKS THING ON BEFORE AND REALISED SO LATE 😭)

Warnings: mentions of illness, violence and drug use [not Reader], should be mostly fluff though, banished mage reader, okay.. I kinda gave Reader an adoptive daughter I can't help it I'm sorry.

Extra: The person requested for the reader to be strong, so I went with the route of them being able to create and manipulate detailed and realistic illusions, and their strength is in that sort of field rather than battle strength. So they have a more mental strength and can manipulate dreams although its not really a main point.

DID I NAME SCARS BABY? YES. I NAMED HER RIRI OKAY? ITS CUTE. SHE'S CUTE.

Summary: Y/n, a mage, who has wandered too far from home finds themself under the care of the firelights. Or perhaps the firelights have found themselves in their care. A particular chirean takes interest in their less than typical methods of calming people.

Masterlist.

Ko-fi

---

Its been too long since I have seen my family. I come from a place far from here, so far I'm not even sure it is of the same plane of existence. My home feels foreign to me now. Years have passed since I was there. Banishment does tend to keep a person away I suppose.

Since I have wandered to a new home, a place I stumbled upon by chance. No, even that isn't right. I stumbled upon the person running this place is more accurate, he was shielding a small injured girl from harsh weather and clearly manic due to the fear of losing the child in the even harsher city of Zaun. I offered them help as I was nearby enough with a place to stay. I couldn't be more glad that Ekko accepted my help that day, as stubborn as he can be.

Its only been a couple of weeks since such an event, but Flora has healed quickly with my help and has been helping introduce me to the Firelights. She's a sweet girl who now seems rather attatched to me and tends to stick around the medical area that I have taken residence in. Ekko, the leader, has helped me get more comfortable here and I couldn't be happier. Or maybe, I could be happier. I've never tried to be more than just content, its all my family allowed until I tried something new and got myself banished.

In the past few weeks, many people have come to me for assistance. Plenty injured from time out on the streets, a few scraped and scratched children and returning firelights after their dangerous missions. It worries me how many shimmer affected patients I've recieved, this drug is a foreign concept to me still but calming those affected with illusions of things they enjoy seems to solve their aggression for a time until the drug wears out. Healing can only help so much when the wounds are not visible. I find much more difficultly with these patients, but if I weren't up to the challenge I would have left.

-

Flora had just settled in for the night, a small loft area for her to use as she pleases. Although she doesn't have a proper room, I plan to change one of the unused rooms into a proper space for her if she wishes. For particularly gruesome patients, I always ask her to return to her normal room and she does. What a sweetheart. I hum a tune as I pack away balms and bandages to use another day. The quiet is nice with the shadowy atmosphere, few things would dare disturb such a calm. Few, but never zero.

The door is quickly flung on its hinges as Scar, Ekko's seemingly stern right-hand man, bursts into the room, startling me and Flora, who was very nearly drifting off. His eyes are wide with a certain kind of distress only a worried father can display. In his arms is his screaming baby girl, the poor dear clearly unwell. Not a word is said as I take her from his arms and usher her to the nearest and softest place to lay her. Scar seems to shake with terror. He must be almost as frightened as her.

I gently feel her forehead to vaguely check my suspicions of a fever and am pleased to have guessed correctly. I swirl my hands with a dark blue starry mist forming into shapes and animals, floating and playing with one another as a distraction for the poor baby. Her cries seem to dull, if only for a moment. Her concentration taken from what I could only assume to be a headache and placed on a starry fox prancing amongst a now fully formed forest scene. With the distraction working, I quickly gather a child friendly medication for her. Its a sweeter flavour than most but she surely won't mind or care as she is too enraptured by the friendly forest creatures of my hometown.

She doesn't fight or fuss over the medication, simply grumblles a little, and turns back to her little show. However, I'm reminded of another presence when the silence is broken by his ragged breathing. I assume Flora is asleep after the littlest was calmed. I pick her up and move towards where Scar is sat. The larger man looks utterly horrified, his normally steady stance shattered at the thought of his daughter being deathly ill. Luckily, it seems to be not much more than a fever and headache.

"Rough day?" I ask simply as I bounce her lightly in my arms before handing her back to Scar. He sighs as he carefully grips her small form, his lip twitches up in a quick huff of air and smirk paired as one.

"Something like that. Is she going to be okay?" He quickly switches topics to avoid the obvious worry I have forming for him.

"Of course, it doesn't seem like anything serious. No real magic had to be used aside from my little 'puppet show' for her." I gently tickle under her chin, causing her to giggle at the attention. Scar's eyes bounce up to meet mine, and he smiles. Staring into his eyes, I see the clear tiredness of a struggling parent.

"We shou-"

"You should stay." I catch him before he tries to flee. Why is he so against taking a break? If not for his own sake, why not her sake? "I have a cot she can use, and we have spare room for you both it really wouldn't trouble us. To be able to look after her, you need to be able to look after yourself."

He looks down and grimaces but nods and follows while I guide him to one of the spare rooms that are likely to keep longer-term patients, but I've never had that, so they're empty. I bring him to a room with items for caring for babies and a bed big enough for him to sleep nearby. He lays her down so gently that it makes me honestly question what I even know about the man.

"Thank you." Is the last thing spoken between us as I leave for the night.

-

This is the first of a few of our encounters, seemingly becoming more frequent. His eyes always a sharp contrast to their normal rough shape and instead becoming soft around me and little Riri. Maybe a small bit of progress, but it is progress nonetheless.

She quickly recovered and yet Scar was adamant on staying and asking me to care for her when I could, which was admittedly most of the time since the only patient I seem to ever recieve is the vastayan himself. As though he was allowing only himself to take the rougher hits to get treated by me.

The door to the clinic gently clicks open and Scar appears in the room, Flora and Riri are playing in the far corner and I'm reading a worn down book on the counter.

"Pick up time already? My, how the time flies. I-"

"Actually I'd like to stay tonight, if thats okay?"

My face contorts to one of confusion, but I won't lie and say it isn't a pleasant surprise. I simply nod, thinking he'd leave to the room he's basically claimed as his and Riri's. However as he stops he nods me over.

Curious, I follow without any debate. Flora will look out for Riri and knows what she's doing by now. He sighs as he drops to sit on the bed and pats a spot next to him.

"I, I have had trouble sleeping." He grimaces and puts his back against the wall. "I was wondering if you could use those illusions of yours to help me?"

My eyebrows raise, and my mouth falls open slightly. He's asking me to use my magic on him? I was convinced he hated it as he only ever cautiously stared when I'd used it. I thought he was afraid. His brows are pulled together, and he can't meet my eyes, hands placed on his lap in front of him.

"Why would I ever turn down my second best patient?" I grin at him and he looks up confused.

"How am I second?" Almost offended, a fake snarl on his lips but a slight upturn that is barely hiding a smirk.

"Oh poor dear," my hand gingerly raises to meet his cheek, "are you jealous?"

He quickly breaks and chuckles, fake snarl failing completely, instead changing to a weak smile. Oh, so we are like that, I suppose. The grin on my face turns to a full smile that I hope properly conveys the joy that comes with the accidental confession of sorts.

"How could you possibly be jealous of your own daughter? The little thing has been such an angel, why wouldn't she be my number one." I tease knowing it will irk him slightly.

Before I can revel in my slight victory, he gets in close and grabs a hold of my jaw. Eyes meeting mine in an intense stare before quickly pressing his lips to mine. Simple. Yet so impactful. He pulls back and his eyes droop, the tiredness still there yet he seems far more awake somehow.

"Shut up and work your magic, mage. The quicker your done, the quicker we can sleep."

"We? Whoever said I was going to sleep too?"

"Me."

---

OKAY I THINK I LOST THE PLOT OF WHAT I ORIGINALLY WANTED TO DO WITH THIS PROMPT BUT I can't lie, they're cuties still 🤭

I'll be getting through each request one at a time and will post when I open them up again, sorry this took so long (im still reeling from Act 3 ngl but also life is catching up to me so it might be a sec)

[nothorses]

hi sorry to bother u about this, i searched around transmasc subreddits for an answer to this and while i saw a few people joking about getting dry cramps, nobody seems to know what this is. and i vaguely remember seeing a post by you mentioning "mystery cramps" in a post also about vaginal atrophy, but I didnt pay attention to the post much at the time bc at that point i wasnt experiencing atrophy or mystery cramps.

but now I'm a bit over a year on T, (my periods stopped only about 4 months ago though, because i was on a much lower dose than most for a lot longer time than most. that ~4 months ago time frame lines up with upping my dose from 0.2 to 0.3ml. i'm on 0.4ml tho now as of about 3 weeks ago) and suddenly i'm getting "mystery cramps" sometimes, it seems to happen especially the night before my T-shot day, (but i cant say that with certainty—i know i'm having them right now and my shot day is tomorrow morning, and i think thats been the case, but i dont know for sure) and they feel exactly like period cramps. to the point where i feel super paranoid that maybe i've been injecting improperly and the testosterone isnt absorbing right and my period is actually coming back. (something i often have nightmares about)

i searched your blog again for that post and did find it, (the one about estradiol cream treating it) but the wording of it is a little unclear and i wanted to just clarify that this is the same thing youre talking about? or if what im experiencing is different than the "mystery cramps" you meant and i should see a doctor

I am for sure not a doctor, and I think you should see one either way!

My personal understanding of the "mystery cramps" is that it's a part of "vaginal atrophy" that some, but not all trans folks who go on T experience, and it usually doesn't start until a couple of years on T ( which is also, to my knowledge, based on more standard doses as opposed to "low-dose" T).

Mine started about two years in, and was happening occasionally at first- always at night, and often the day before my T shot- then progressed to several nights a week over time. Nowadays I tend to experience cramping almost every time I so much as miss one dose of estradiol. Ibuprofen and Midol are the only OTC pain relievers that seem to do the trick, and the cramping will keep me up through the entire night untreated. It also tends to come in fairly predictable waves (spaced maybe 15-30 minutes apart) and right before I started estradiol, I remember getting some light spotting as well.

iirc, I talked to my PCP when it was just starting up, and their response was along the lines of "that's weird, let's keep an eye on it". I moved and didn't have a PCP for a while, so when the spotting started, I went to a walk-in urgent care clinic and talked to them. They gave me a referral for an ultrasound, and encouraged me to go to a "women's health" clinic that had long history of specializing in trans care as well. When I talked to the folks at that clinic, they encouraged me to go through with the ultrasound (I didn't), and prescribed estradiol cream because I asked them to and they didn't see a reason not to try it.

If you think it's possible this is what's going on with you, I would really encourage you to talk to a doctor, specifically bring up research around this issue and estradiol cream as a treatment option, and ask them if there's a reason not to try it just to see if it does anything for you. If nothing else, estradiol cream also treats vaginal dryness, tightness, and inflammation (other symptoms of "vaginal atrophy"), so it might be worth a shot for those reasons anyway!

And don't do what I did; if they want you to do an ultrasound or whatever else, go with it, and rule out other possibilities. Listen to medical advice from medical professionals who know your medical history and who you trust are listening to you & know what they're talking about.

[kaliforniahigh]

Can I have something angsty,sad,fluffy,(smutty if you want) ?

Reader is on the thicker/chubby side (a few tummy rolls and thick thighs) and she thinks Noah is only with her to say he's been with a fat chick or it's some fetish thing. Reader doesn't understand how he can be attracted to someone like her. Normal 9-5 job, not rich, shitty apartment, shitty car...just getting though life and they met by chance. Maybe he liked that she treated him like a regular person even though she knew who he was, like a "yeah, I know who you are...so what 🙄😐🤷🏼‍♀️" kinda thing.

Not gunna lie the "never been with a big girl" shit has happened way more than I'd like...and honestly, I've been really hating my body lately 😔

Thank you so much for this request! I know it took me a long time to get to it and I'm so sorry about that! I hope you still like it <3

Warnings: reader is a little hard on herself, Noah also feels insecure. Reader is fatphobic towards herself :( Besides that, this is fluff.

WC: 5.9k (this is long and I haven't proofread it yet!)

My requests are currently closed!

Noah was back home in Virginia for a couple of weeks. He really just went because his best friend, Nicholas, had begged him to. There was nothing left for him in this place anymore, and there hasn't been for years.

Even though he had a lot of bitter memories from his time here, he really tried to enjoy the moments he spent with his old friends, reconnecting and telling each other how their lives changed over the years.

Right now, he was at a bonfire, sipping on his beer, despite the chill weather that fall brought along. He looked around and saw many faces he didn't recognize from years ago. To his left, Nicholas was socializing, and he thought about how things haven't changed that much after all. His friend was always better at this than him.

His eyes were fixed on you, like they have been a couple of times during the night. You were hard to miss, with your orange knit sweater and beanie keeping your head warm. He didn't remember seeing you before, if he had, he would surely remember it.

You talked animately with your hands, sporting smile on your face that made your eyes crinkle. If he could describe your aura, it would be warm and inviting, and he felt a pull towards you, suddenly having the urge to come up to you and stike up a conversation.

He held himself back, though, because you seemed very engrossed in the conversation you were having with your friends, and he didn't want to intrude or bother you.

"You're still brooding in the corner?", he was so distracted by you, that he didn't even notice Nicholas approaching him.

"I'm technically not in a corner", Noah pointed to the wall he was leaning against. Nicholas fixed him with a look.

"You should try and talk to a few people, at least this one time", Nicholas sounded like a mom scolding a child and it mildly irritated Noah.

"I will, once I finish this beer", he settled on saying, but deep down, they both knew that Noah would stay in this exact same spot for the rest of the night.

"Whatever, man. I'll talk to Josh over there, he said something about Eric cheating on Alex with their babysitter, and I wanna know all about that. Do you remember Alex from high school?", Noah scrambled his brain, and he could vaguely remember an Alex from high school.

"Is she the one who fell down the bleachers once?", he asked, the memory slowly coming back to him. He should feel bad that this embarrassing moment is what he remembers her by.

"That's exactly the one", Nicholas exclaimed, his hand slapping against Noah's chest. "Apparently her luck didn't get any better. I'll get the scoop and then I'll tell you on the way home", Noah smiled at his friend's antics and watched him walk away.

Averting his gaze back to the gathering happening around him, he found himself watching you again. He really needed to break his habit, otherwise you would think of him as a total creep. His stance and unapproachableness already didn't help him at all. He decided to go look around for something to eat, sure that he saw some snacks around here somewhere.

"He's leaving", your friend said beside you. You had to keep yourself from looking at him. Your friends have been annoying you for the last 15 minutes about the hot guy who apparently couldn't stop looking at you.

"Good, would you stop bothering me now?", you said.

"Y/N, you need to talk to him. Have you seen this man? He is hot and he's totally into you", Charlie said, an exciting tone on her voice.

"And you gathered all that from the few minutes we've been standing here?", you looked at her with a disbelieving look on your face.

"We've been here for at least forty minutes and he hasn't stopped looking at you!", she exclaimed, as if she had it all figured out.

"He could've been looking in the general direction, not at me", you reasoned, trying to forget the way his gaze felt on you. He couldn't have been looking at you out of all people from your group of friends.

"Y/N", Charlie sighed, the excitement vanishing from her features. "You need to stop sabotaging yourself. Why is it so impossible for a man to be interested in you?"

"I don't know, Charlie. I'm gonna go grab another drink, ok?", you did what you always do when someone brought this up in conversation, you left and didn't look back.

Is not that you thought it was impossible for this man to be interested in you, you just thought it was unlikely. You spotted him right when he walked in, his height made him impossible to ignore. And even though he was wearing a hoodie, you saw the tattoos all over his neck and hands, the latter making you incredibly flustered. You never thought you could find someone's hands so attractive.

Meanwhile, you came to this gathering right from work. Your hair was a mess and you had no option but to slap a beanie over it. Your outfit was nothing interesting, just a sweater to keep you warm in the changing weather. Thinking about it now, the color was even a little silly. Who wore orange sweaters?

You arrived at the table where the drinks were set, eyes surveying for something interesting and non-alcoholic, since you drove here. You were so engrossed with whatever was in front of you, that you almost - almost - didn't notice a presence beside you. Like you said, he was hard to miss.

"You, hmm... you need help finding something?" You heard a voice and you knew exactly who was next to you. You looked at him and the first thought that came to your mind was how tall he was compared to you.

He had to look down to meet your eyes and you had to crane your head back to look back at him.

"Oh, I'm just looking for something that's non-alcoholic", you answered him, with a little laugh, knowing that those beverages were hard to find in these places.

"Yeah, it's going to be a little difficult", he said, scratching the back of his neck and looking at the table set in front of you.

"It's ok, I kind of expected it. I'll just go look for dome water", you shrugged your shoulders.

"Wait, I think I saw some stuff in the fridge earlier. Do you want me to get it for you?", he pointed at the house behind the both of you. His eyes were hopeful, like he wanted to do this for you. You thought it was adorable the way he actually wanted you to have something else other than water, and you didn't have the heart to teel him no. So you said yes and saw him walk into the house.

While you waited, Noah was crossing his fingers that his friends had something in the fridge other than booze and stale food. Yes, he lied to you about seeing something in the fridge earlier, but he couldn't let you drink water at a party. He also didn't know where the urge to please you came from, but the words came out of his mouth before he could stop them.

He made his way to the fridge and opened it, and he immediatly spotted a few cans of Red Bull. They were of different colors - probably some tropical flavor - and he hoped you liked energy drinks, otherwise, he would look like a fool in front of the girl he thought was extremely cute.

He grabbed one of them and made his way back to where you were waiting for him.

"Here, I hope you like energy drinks?", he couldn't help but let some nervousness seep into his voice.

"Thank you, and I do", you answered him, and you visibly saw some tension leave his shoulders. "This is actually perfect. I'm so tired because I came right from work. Maybe this will wake me up a little", you said as you cracked the can open.

When he heard you say that, he wanted to pat himself on the back, but settled on giving you a contained smile instead.

"So", he sensed the lull in the conversation, and since he wasn't ready to stop talking to you yet, he decided to change the topic. "Who are you here with?"

"I'm friends with Charlie, she's Josh's fiancee", you answered him. He knew that Josh had gotten engaged in the last few months. Him and Nicholas knew Joah and Charlie from high school, and both of them were surprised it took Josh this long to ask the girl to marry him. Maybe if he was better at keeping contact with his friend, he could've met you way earlier.

"I saw you talking to her earlier", he pointed out and you cursed yourself, because your friends were right. He was watching you. "How did you two meet each other?", he asked and leaned against the table. He refrained from asking you to go inside and sit on the couch.

"We went to college together a few years ago. We were roomates and clicked instantly", you told him and he did the math in his head. You were friends with Charlie for what? Nine or ten years now? Shit, he really could've me you earlier. "What about you? Haven't seen you around before", you threw the question back at him, taking a sip from the drink in your hand. He had to avert his gaze from the way your lips wrapped around the rim, which was very distracting.

"Oh, I've known Josh for years. Us and a couple of other people here went to high school together", he saw your eyes light up with this information, visibly impressed.

"Oh my God. How come have I not seen you before?", you were shocked that you never noticed this man at any of the parties Josh and Charlie usually threw.

"I moved out of here really young. I live in LA now, so it's difficult to visit", he kept the information that he was in a band to himself. He liked the way you seem to not know who he is at all.

"I think he's mentioned having friends in LA before", you mused, but didn't dwell much on the information. "I don't blame you, LA seems to be much more interesting than here"

"Yeah, a little crazy out there. Not a dull moment, that's for sure", you agreed, and he wanted to know more about you, but refrained from asking what you did for a living, afraid that you would ask him back, and he sure didn't wanna lie to you.

"I never left here, I just assume from the stories I hear", he was surprised to hear this, not for the fact that you never visited other places, but because he couldn't imagine someone spending their whole lives in this place.

"You never felt the urge to go somewhere else?", he couldn't help but ask you. You thought for a second before answering him.

"I mean, I would obviously love to travel to other places, but I don't know if I would actually move somewhere else", he hummed, and you continued. "My whole life is here, my parents are here, and I know this city like the back of my hand. I guess I like the familiarity of the place"

He could understand that. Not everyone had a traumatizing childhood and teenage years like him. He guesses he could like the place if it wasn't tied to such bad memories.

He was about to ask you something else when Charlie approached the two of you, and he noticed the knowing look on her face the second he saw it.

"Hey, you two", she said as she rested one hand on your shoulder. "We're playing a board game in the living room, and Josh wanted me to ask if any of you would like to participate"

Noah waited for you to answer first, half hoping you would say no, just so he could talk to you for a little but longer. However, what you said instead crashed his hopes of talking to you for the rest of the party.

"I would love to, but I should be heading out. I'm dead tired and really need some sleep", you had an apologetic look on your face, and when he really took the time to look at you, he did notice your slightly droopy eyes.

"Thank you for coming, I know work has been chewing your ass lately", Charlie told you, but you dismissed her with a wave of your hand.

"You know I love hanging out with you guys, so it's worth the effort", you said with sincerity in your voice and you and Charlie exchanged a hug and goodbyes.

Turning back to face him, you noticed that you didn't really want to leave, but needed to before you got even more tired. Suddenly, you realized you never got his name.

"Well, we've been talking all this time and I never asked your name", you chuckled at the absurdity of it.

"My name is Noah", he extended his hand for you to shake. "What's yours?"

You took his hand in yours, noticing the way it entirely encompassed yours. You observed the details on the tattoos he had on his knuckles and hands, and you wondered once again if they continued up his arms and shoulders. "I'm Y/N"

"Well, Y/N, it's been a pleasure talking to you", he gave you soft smile and you wanted to get lost in his eyes and the way he was looking at you right now. As if you were the greatest thing that's happened to him the entire week. Little did you know.

"The feeling is mutual" you smiled back at him, having to let go of his hand, as to not turn this into those too long handshakes. "I should get going", you said and started to turn around before he stopped you.

"Actually", he started, prompting you to look back at him. "I was wondering if I could get your number", he had the same hopeful look on his face as earlier, when he asked you if he could grab you a drink. You looked at him for a few seconds before answering.

"Yeah, of course. Here it is", you handed him your phone and he put his contact in, giving it back to you.

"I'll text you so you can add mine", you tapped your screen a few times and after a couple of seconds, his phone vibrated on his back pocket. "There, now we have each other's numbers", you pocketed your phone.

"Text me when you get home?", he asked and you were caught a little off-guard, but couldn't deny you loved the way he genuinely seemed to care about you.

"Of course. I'll let you know", you smiled and contemplated giving him a hug, just to feel the way his arms would wrap around your body, but thought it would be too much for a first encounter. You settled in a little awkward wave as you turned around to make your way out of the backyard and in the direction of your car.

Noah, on the other hand, was frozen in place. When he spotted you, he was sure he was doomed to watch you from afar the whole night. But when he saw you by the table full of drinks, looking a little lost, he decided to take Nicholas' advice and mingle a little.

For someone who hated this city so much, he was actually feeling a little disappointed in having to leave in a few days. He always felt like there was nothing else worth sticking around for here, but as he replayed your smile in his head, and how your skin felt in his in those couple of seconds he shook your hand, he couldn't help but think he could stay here, if it meant he got to experince moments like this with you again.

He decided to make his way back inside, the party now with only a few people left. He sat on the couch as he watched Nicholas and his friends play a game of Monoply on the dinner table.

A few minutes went by when he felt his phone vibrate in back pocket. Fishing it out, he saw it was a text from you.

You: Hi! Just letting you know I got home safely :)

He felt a smile take over his face as he replied to you.

Noah: Hey! Glad everything went alright. Have a good night and sleep well x

You: Thank you :) Enjoy the rest of the party!

Noah: I'm about to leave soon actually. Talk to you tomorrow?

You: Sure! Drive home safe and let ME know when you get home? ;)

Noah: I will, but something tells me you'll be asleep by then

At home, you were leaning against the bathroom counter, your toothbrush hanging from your mouth, stupidly grinning at your phone.

You: I'll wait up :)

The next day was chores day for you. Clean the house, get the laundry done, change the sheets and whatever else you needed to do around the house.

Even with the music blaring through the speakers to keep you entertained while you loaded the dishes in the dishwasher, you couldn't help but let your mind run wild with thoughts of Noah.

You couldn't let go of the fact that he was so nice to you, despite never having seen you before. It's not that guys were never nice to you, it's just that the niceness came with the intentions fo something else, and you didn't want to think of Noah as one of those people.

Closing the dishwasher and starting the cycle, you made your way to the bedroom to collect all the clothes that needed washing.

As soon as you got in the room, you stopped in your tracks, your image on the mirror on the opposite wall from you catching your attention.

This was obviously a lazy day, and there was no use in dressing up to clean the house, but still, you could see the wisps of hair and the frizz sticking out from your bun, that sat atop of your head.

You wore a baggy t-shirt and some gym shorts, turning a bit to the side, you observed the fat of your thighs basically swallowing the tight fabric.

Nowadays, you weren't so worried with the way you look as you were as a teenager. A lot of therapy over the years helped you accept yourself. But you can't say it didn't leave any traumas behind.

Before you could even realize what was happening, the voices in your head were already sabotaging you.

"See? You were right. Noah is probably not attracted to you at all"

"He probably made a bet with someone about how he could charm the fat girl no one wants"

"He's tall, tattooed and handsome. You're just you"

It didn't matter anyway, he's doesn't even live here. His life in LA is probably more interesting than anything this city could offer him. He'll leave soon and your life would be back to normal. He'll probably not even text you, your phone number lost in all the other numbers he probably has in his phone.

Huffing with annoyance at how the day took a turn, you hurried to gather the clothes and make your way out of the room.

At the Ruffilo's house, Noah was laying on the couch, with his phone in his hand, open on your text thread with you from last night.

To be honest, he wanted to text you right when he woke up, but didn't want to come off to strong or bother you on your day off. Now, as it was nearing 3:00 pm, he was tired of holding himself back.

He's been contemplating on how he could ask you out for the entire day, and decided he should keep it simple. Maybe ask you out to eat some dinner. Nothing too fancy, just some burgers, fries and a milkshake at the place he loved to go with his friends as a teenager.

He even though about taking you to the lookout he always went to, to clear his head when the noises in his head got too loud. He hasn't been there in years, and now was a good time to try and resignify what the place meant to him.

So, he started typing.

Noah: Hey! Remember me?

He sent the text and stared at the screen, biting the nail on his thumb. He waited a couple of minutes for an answer, but the bubbles showing that you were typing a reply didn't appear on his screen.

You could be busy. Or you could already be out with someone else. It's the weekend after all, why would you spend it rotting away on the couch like him?

He knew if he stayed here, he would drive himself mad. So he decided to make his way uptairs to take a shower, and hopefully take his mind off of you for a few minutes.

Meanwhile, you were debating with yourself. After your dilemma earlier in the day, you weren't expecting to get a text from Noah. Actually, you were kind of hoping he wouldn't contact you, because you weren't ready to unpack what you were feeling for this guy you just met yesterday.

But here you are, mind running in circles thinking about what to say to him. Should you even reply? No, that's out of the question. You always thought it was rude to leave somone on read, especially on purpose.

You couldn't deny that you were curious to find out what he wanted. So, without dwelling much more on it, you started typing.

You: Hey there! Of course I do. Yesterday wasn't that long ago.

You wanted to lock your screen and chuck your phone across the room. But you weren't fifteen anymore, so you resorted to scrolling through social media as you waited for his responde. Eyes wandering to the notification bar every few seconds.

If this was just a booty call, you were going to be extremely upset. Would it be so bad though to have a one night stand with the hot guy?

Your phone vibrated in your hand, a text coming through.

Noah: Just wanted to make sure

What's up? You having a good weekend?

You: If good means cleaning the house the entire day, then I'm having a great weekend. What about you?

Noah: Well, now you're just making me feel bad, 'cause I didn't do anything the entire day

You: That sounds perfect, actually

Noah: Since your weekend has been so strenuous, what do you think about having some dinner?

Did he just ask you out? Were your eyes deceiving you? You didn't know what to tell him.

You obviously wanted to spend more time with him, enjoying the time you spent with him yesterday. But your mind took you back to earlier in the day. You hated yourself for always assuming the worst in a situation.

Maybe he didn't even mean anything by asking you to have dinner with him. Maybe he was just being polite. But why would he be polite to someone he just met?

Ultimately, you decided that this didn't have to mean anything more than just two people eating together. Besides, you were curious to find out what his intentions were. If he even had any.

You: Sounds good. What are you thinking?

Noah: Do you like burgers?

You: Oh, I love burgers!

Noah: It's set then! I know just the place

I'll pick you up at 7?

You: I'll be ready :)

Noah was sat on his bed, towel still wrapped around his hips, looking stupidly at his phone, a grin on his lips. He pondered a lot during his shower, and decided that he was done waiting. He didn't have much more time in his hometown, so he wanted to make the most of the time he still had with you.

He knew it was still too early to call this a first date, but he was nervous as if it was. He really hopes you like what he has planned for the two of you. It's nothing too fancy or too special, a simple dinner overlooking the city at night, but it held a lot of meaning for him.

Getting dressed and going downstairs to get some water, he knew he'd be stressing until it was time to leave to pick you up, so he decided to play some games on his computer to try and distract himself a little.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, and overanalyzed your outfit like you've been doing for probably the past 10 minutes. You wore a dress that went down to about your knees, it was a deep wine color, and threw on a leather jacket on top, just in case it got windy outside.

You opted to go for comfort instead of anything fancy, so deciding that this outfit was enough, you went to your closet and grabbed your pair of Vans and slipped them on your feet.

Noah should be here in about 15 minutes, and you wanted to be ready. He texted you a little earlier asking for your address, you gave it to him and just told him to text you when he got here. Since you lived in an apartment, it would be easir for you to come down and meet him at the entrance.

You didn't have to wait long until you phone chimed in your hands, a text popping up on the screen.

Noah: I'm here :)

You: I'll be down in a second!

Locking the door behind you, you waited for the elevator. Your legs couldn't seem to keep still, and you realized you were nervous for whatever was about to happen when you met him outside.

Do you hug him? Do you shake his hand? No, that's too formal of a greeting. But would he want to hug you this soon? He seemed to be a reserved person.

You didn't have much more time to overthink on this situation, because soon you were stepping inside the elevator. You cursed yourself for living only on the third floor, because before you could freak out a bit more, the doors dinged and you stepped out.

When you laid eyes on him, he was standing outside his car, back leaning against the passenger side door, long legs crossed and hands tucked into his pants' pockets.

You almost stopped yourself in your tracks. He was wearing a short sleeved shirt, and you could see the tattoos decorating both of his arms. You almost wanted to just stand there and admire the way looked waiting for you.

But you couldn't allow yourself to look like a fool on the first time you were going out with him. So you put on a smile and walked over to him. You didn't have to overthink anything at all, because as soon as you got close to him, you heard him say a "hello" and stretch out his arms for you to give him a hug.

He felt warm and sturdy against you, and you noticed the way his arms circled your shoulders and around your neck. You could feel his muscles through the fabric of your dress, and it made you a little dizzy.

When you both parted from the hug, you said "hi" back him.

"C'mon in", he gestured to the car and opened the door for you. You situated yourself on the passenger seat and he shut the door behind you, making his to the other side.

"So, what's the plan for tonight?", you asked, as you buckled you seatbelt and watched him do the same.

"I know this place that sells some really good burgers. My friends and I used to go there all the time. I hope it's still good", he answered and started driving.

"Burgers are always nice", you pointed out.

"Not always", he quickly looked at you with his eyebrows raised.

"Are you particular about your burgers?"

"It's not that I'm pinky or anything. It's just that I knwo when a burger is bad", he explained himself while taking a right turn and entering another neighbourhood.

"And what is a bad burger in your opinion?", you turned yourself slightly on your seat, so you could look at him better.

"Well, first, the bun has to be sealed, so it isn't soggy from the sauce", you nodded along to his explanation. "Then, the burger has to be thick enough to be juicy, and it can't be cooked for too long because then it becomes dry", he makes a face as if dry burgers are a personal attack to him.

"I guess you're right about all of that. Maybe spending four years in college kind of messed up my idea of good food"

"You ate a lot of weird stuff?", he asked you.

"It's incredible the stuff you can come up with on a budget", you shrugged and he seemed to be satisfied with your answer.

Not too long after, Noah's pulling to a vintage looking diner, but you notice him going to the drive thru instead of parking.

"We're not eating here?", you found yourself asking before you could stop.

"Shit, I didn't ask you", he stopped the car in the line and looked at you. "I was thinking about eating at this place I know, I think you're gonna like it", you could tell his confidence wavered a little bit, but you gave him a smile anyways.

"It's ok, I don't mind eating somewhere else"

The line progressed quickly and in about fifteen minutes, you were grabbing your order and Noah was driving again.

You noticed he was driving to a less populated area, and more trees came into view, the headlights of the car illuminated the path ahead.

"I clearly didn't think this through because this totally looks like I'm kidnapping you or something", he chuckled a little, but you could tell he was nervous.

"I didn't think about that", you told him. Maybe you thought this place was a little weird, but you weren't going to comment on that.

"We're almost there, ok", you nodded and true to his words, a few turns later, the car arrived at a clearence. Noah drove a little bit more and parked the car.

Looking through the windshield, you could see the light from the city below you and the stars shining bright above you.

"You were right. I really do like this place", you stated, still a little bit in awe. How did you not know about this place?

"I'm really glad you like it", he said, watching you observe the place around you. "Well, let's eat before the food gets cold"

You ate and talked, now feeling more comfortable with each other's presence. Noah told you he used to come here as a teenager all the time, though he didn't tell you the reason.

He didn't feel the same emotions now as he did before when coming to this place. It felt like a new life now for him, e new beginning, and he was to have someone like you here with him.

You did tell him though, that this was one of the best burgers you've ever eating in your life, and that you would totally eat there more. He couldn't hide the smile on his face.

After you were done, he gathered all the wrappers and cups and got out of the car to put it in the trash can that was not too far away from the car.

You sat there, observing him and wondering if you were the only one feeling like this was more than just two people who just met each other going out to dinner.

He got back and sat down on the driver's seat. Looking out into the city, he said "I kind of don't wanna go yet"

"I don't either", you agreed. You felt a weird sense of calm on this place, with him. "I can tell that being here means a lot to you. And you don't have to tell me anything, but I'm glad you brought me here"

He didn't say anything for a while, and you both just sat there in comfortable silence.

"I never liked coming back here, to my hometown", he started, you just looked at him, not saying anything, not wanting to rush him. "I have really bad memories from this place. But don't know, being here this time, meeting you, made me feel like this city still has some good in it"

"Noah, I'm hardly anyone important", you reasoned.

"It's not that. I just feel like you're here because you wanna be, and not because you want to get something from me", he looked down at his lap.

"Why would I wanna get something from you?", you were feeling a little confused now.

"it's just always the way it works. Charlie never told you whar I do on LA?", he questioned you, looking at you from the corner of his eyes.

"She told me you're in a band. Which I googled and you guys look pretty good at what you do", you noticed his eyes widening when you said this.

"So you know?", his voice was a little smaller right now, aprehensive.

"Of course. Josh would never shut up about his friends who went to LA and got famous", you laughed quietly at this. "I'm sorry that people made you feel worthy only if you have something to give them"

He looked down again, but you continued. "But I was serious when I told you that I'm not anyone important. I'm glad to be here right now, and I really enjoy your company, but you're going back to LA soon and then this is the last thing you'll think about"

"I don't think that's true", he was quick to disagree with you. "Before arriving here, I felt dread coming back to this place. Now I feel like I don't wanna leave. You're the reason for that, and I'll never forget the way you've made me feel this past two days. Because I haven't felt his normal in years", you didn't know what to say to that, so you just looked at him.

He straighted his back, and leaned his elbows on the center console, his face now closer to yours.

"Will you give me the pleasure of tasting your lips before I go absolutely insane?", he was looking right at your eyes, voice low as if there weren't the two of you here.

"We can't have you going insane, can we?", you said and leaned closer, brushing your lips on his.

You felt his hand going up your neck and gripping your jaw. He licked his lips and you closed your eyes, and soon you felt the plush of his lips on yours, slow at first, but then he got a little more urgent, picking up his pace.

His tongue teased your lips and you granted him entrance, you whimpered at the feeling of his mouth on yours, and he held your face tighter.

After parting, you were both panting, you with a smile in your face at the feeling of his thumb carresing your cheek.

"How am I supposed to ever leave this place now?", he wondered out loud and connected his lips yours again.

[writerjayne]

This is a little sterek college AU (are they human are they werewolves who knows) one shot that I wrote on my phone with no beta or editing So apologies for the errors! The premise is a little vauge on purpose in case I want to expand this into a full story later but basically its an "Everyone grew up together" kind of vibe. Made Derek only 3 years older to make him still being in college realistic. Enjoy!

The car slowing to a stop woke Stiles. Blinking around and not fully conscious he asked confused:

"Are we there already?"

Derek glanced over from the driver's seat and chuckled. 

"No we still have like three hours. It's just a traffic jam." 

"Oh," stiles sat up a little straighter and looked around, clearly still half asleep. "We'll still get there early right?" 

"Yeah, gps says we'll arrive at 1, so plenty of time for move in," Derek assured as the traffic began inching forward. 

"Good, I need to talk to the housing department," Stiles pulled out his phone, fingers moving rapidly as he typed. 

Derek smiled indulgently. It was Stiles freshman year of college and Derek had never seen him so excited. 

"To get your key?" Derek prompted when Stiles didn't elaborate. 

"No, I need to see if they have any empty rooms," Stiles tone was almost vague, his attention on his phone. "Or any double rooms with only one occupant. Here look there's an alternative route-" 

"I'm sorry what?" Derek cut Stiles off. "You have to ask about a room? Stiles it's move in day! The day you move in!" 

"Yeah so I have to get a room to move into," Stiles rolled his eyes. "So the earlier the better! Here, take the next exit so we can get around-" 

"Mieczyslaw Genim Stilinski!!" Derek didn't roar, they were in a closed car but it was a close thing. 

"Hey hey hey, why are you middle naming me?" Stiles demanded. "Forget that, why are you first naming me?!"

"Because your father isn't here to do it!" Derek growled. "You don't have a place to live?"

"Well I did! But then Scott decided to room with Allison instead and I told him not to worry about it but when I called the place we were going to rent from they said I couldn't rent a two bedroom as one person so yes I'm going to talk to housing when we get there!" Stiles waved his hands around as he spoke, getting more agitated. "What else was I supposed to do?"

"I don't know, stiles, ask the adults in your life for help?" Derek pointed out.

"Dad has enough on his plate and I had already told him scott and I were set," Stiles sounded embarrassed. 

"Your father is not the only adult in your life," Derek reminded, though not harshly. "What about my parents, hell Laura would have been happy to help or I don't know me??"

"Your parents were busy getting cora all set up," Stiles pointed out. "And I thought about calling Laura but her semester just started too..."

"And me?" Derek prompted. "I'm not exactly new at this!" 

"Honestly I forget you're an adult too," Stiles admitted sheepishly. 

"Stiles!" Derek groaned almost closing his eyes but the traffic began moving again and he focused back on the road. 

"I know I know!! That's why I want to get there early, so I can get this sorted out with the housing department!" Stiles desperately explained again before holding out his phone again. "So can we take the alternate route?" 

"What if you moved in with me?" 

Stiles jaw dropped and he half lowered the phone. Derek wasn't looking at him, the older man's eyes on the road but he was growing in thought. 

"What?"

"Move in with me," Derek repeated. "It's small but you wouldn't have to worry about rent, you could save the money you make at your job. It's technically off campus but it's not far to walk. There's also a bus stop out front-" 

"But you hate having roommates!" Stiles interrupted. "And isn't it a one bedroom?" 

"Yeah it's a little place but we can make it work. And you're not a stranger so I think I'll be fine," Derek smiled slightly. "What do you say?" 

"Okay," Stiles was almost breathless. "If you're really sure..."

"I'm sure Stiles. Now we've still got like two and a half hours to go so go back to sleep. I'll wake you up when we get there." 

"Okay," Stiles said again, smiling this time. "Thanks Der." 

"You're welcome," Derek responded with a smile. 

*****

"I'm sorry I have so many books," stiles frowned apologetic as they hauled the last two boxes up the stairs to the apartment. 

"It's fine, Stiles, I promise," Derek said for what felt like the hundredth time. 

They dropped the boxes by the half full bookshelves in the small living room before pausing to take a break. 

Heading to the kitchen Derek pulled a couple of bottles of water from the fridge, silently greatful he had come the week before to clean and stock the apartment. It hadn't been used in months and had been dusty. Derek had wanted move in day to have as minimal work as possible so he had come to prepare. 

"Are you sure about me not paying rent?" Stiles worried voice pulled Derek from his thoughts. 

"I told you it's fine. I don't pay rent, why would I make you pay rent?" Derek held out a water bottle to Stiles. "My parents own the building, specifically so family can use it without having to worry about paying for accommodations. There's always a few units empty. This one has been mine since I started school." 

"If you're sure," Stiles relented. "Do we need any groceries? I can make a run!" 

"Sure," Derek started but he was interrupted by a knock on the door and it swinging open. 

"Hey nerd, how's unpacking going?" 

Both men turned to see Erica kicking off her shoes by the door. 

"Hey Erica!" Stiles greeted brightly. "It's going pretty good! We got the sleeping arrangements sorted first then hauled everything in!" 

Erica froze for half a second at the sight of stiles before smiling. 

"What are you doing here?" She asked

"Oh I'm living here," stiles glanced between his two friends "did Derek not tell you?" 

"He did not," Erica gave Derek a pointed look and the older man rolled his eyes. 

"Cut me some slack, I didn't even know until like 3 hours ago!" Derek gave Stiles a face. "Someone thought they could show up on move in day and just find a place to stay!"

"Oh?" Erica grinned and Stiles blushed. 

"I'm going to go get some groceries now," he muttered avoiding Erica's eye and she laughed. 

"Whatever Batman," Erica plopped on the couch, pulling out her phone. "Bring me back some chocolate?" 

"Sure," Stiles agreed easily. "I won't be long!" 

"Ok be safe and call me if you get lost!" Derek said sternly. 

"This isn't the preserve Derek, GPS actually works here so I think I'll be fine!" With that stiles left, waving as he pulled the door closed. 

As soon as she hears the door latch Erica jumped up rouding on Derek. 

"This is a terrible idea!!" She exclaimed. "Why would you even suggest it?" 

"If you're gonna lecture at least help me unpack his books," Derek answered, dodging the question. 

"Seriously Derek, what were you thinking?" Erica grabbed a box and began opening it. 

"Well I wasn't gonna let him be homeless!" Derek hissed. "He's my best friend-"

"Who you've been in love with since you were what 8?" Erica crossed her arms. 

"If we're getting technical since I was 3," Derek admitted. 

Erica did the quick mental math before asking:

"God Derek, was he even born??" 

"Um not yet." 

"Derek!" Erica groaned. "What are you going to do if he brings someone home? You'll be in jail for murder!" 

"I'm not that jealous!" Derek said defensively.

"No but you are that protective!" Erica countered. 

"It won't be a problem anyway, Stiles isn't going to bring anyone home," Derek said dismissively. 

"Are we talking about the same stiles?" Erica raised an eyebrow. "Stiles stilinski? The boy who dated Lydia Martin! Stiles stilinski who dated your sister and your cousin not to mention half the lacrosse team! Say what you want but that boy can pull!" 

"Okay so we cross that bridge when we get there!" Derek continued putting books on the shelves, avoiding Erica's eye for a moment. 

"Yeah okay," Erica crossed her arms. "We'll see how that goes." 

"You want a tour or what?" Derek huffed, changing the subject. 

"Obviously," Erica grinned. "Why else do you think I came over?" 

Derek refrained from rolling his eyes and gestured for the young woman to follow him. He gave a quick tour of the living room and kitchen before opening the door to the bedroom. 

"There's only one bed?!" Erica rounded on Derek, her disbelief written across her face. 

"It's a king, we can share," Derek shrugged. "We have before."

"This is going to end so badly. This is a disaster," Erica stood dumbfounded. "Seriously what were you thinking?" 

*****

"I was thinking 'hey one less thing to stress over' Scott I wasn't thinking about how in each other's space it would be!" Stiles nearly threw his hands up in exasperation. "I didn't exactly have another option!" 

"You should have told me! Allison and I could have got a bigger place or you an I could have done this first semester together and she and I could have moved in together next semester!" Scott's worried voice came over the phone and stiles could almost see Scott nervously pacing. 

"It's Derek Scott, it'll be fine!" Stiles tried to sound confident. 

"Who you've been in love with since you were old enough to walk!" Scott pointed out.

Stiles groaned. 

"I know, I know. But honestly, how bad can this be?" 

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

K follow me Astarion just sees tav like loving on children wherever they go and hes like?????

And tavs like ive always wanted my own child but i didn't wabt to ask you with every

This sends poor starion into a crisis does he was children how many

I think I have followed you. Let's see!

So for this one we got a lil time jump, ambiguous and vague setting and timelines with game spoilers present. M/F pairing because that is my go to and pregnancy is mentioned. Vampiric pregnancy also so there is some weirdness there (i made it up no idea if it's dnd accurate). Vague Tav backstory of a wonderful mother and going off to become a cleric.

~

Astarion was well used to your antics by this point. You had a severe lack of instincts linked to self-preservation, which led to a consistent pattern of doing, frankly, stupid shit. Stupid, but kind. Nothing that Astarion hadn't adapted to, after nearly two years of being attached at the hip you became pretty attuned to your lover's personality.

He could even go as far as to say that he had grown to love your annoying predilection for pious morality. Perhaps he loved talking you out of certain virtuous dangers more, but still. He appreciated who you were, he adored who you were. But Astarion was no saint, despite his insistence on attaching himself to one.

Which is exactly why he was far from amused when you signed him up to babysit a couple of brats. All for acquittances he barely cared about.

But you at least had the good grace to look guilty, "I didn't mean to! But she looked so tired and she said their anniversary was coming up and it's not like we got anything for their wedding-"

That was a nice try, one that Astarion wasn't falling for, "We didn't know of their existence when they got married darling. Just because I can't remember their names doesn't mean you can trick me."

"I'm not trying to trick you!" You whined, arms crossed as you pouted. It sure felt like a trick, especially when Astarion knew that you were well-aware how easily he fell for your sulking. Adorable little monster that you were, "It's only three kids and a baby for one night, it won't be that bad! You don't even have to help-"

Astarion rolled his eyes as he sat next to you on the bed, "I didn't say I wouldn't help."

That seemed to do the trick to get the pout off of your face. You perked up immediately, looking at him like you couldn't quite believe it, "Really?"

"Yes, really," Astarion sighed as you tugged you closer. Sure he liked to bitch, but he really would do anything for you. Even extremely annoying things like this, "I'm not going to sit back and feed you to the wolves."

"They're not wolves! The oldest is barely five," You laughed as you let him manhandle you, settling you into his lap, "And I am sorry, I really wasn't thinking. I promise it won't happen again."

Astarion doubted that, not when he was well-versed of your weak spot for children. No matter where you went you couldn't help but fawn over them, not to mention the insane lengths you would go to keep any child safe. It was a complete and utter blind spot, your kindness extending to them all, even the little scam artists and hellions.

It was sweet, if not extremely worrying at first. Astarion had been terrified of you finding out his past. The things that he had been forced to do, the innocents whose lives he had destroyed. But not only did you find out, you were forced to see it. Both of you were, and it had been worse than anything Astarion could have imagined. He had always found a slight comfort knowing that those he captured would at least die quickly, that at the very least they wouldn't suffer the same agonizing fate as he, just an agonizing death. But no, even that small comfort had been a lie. The horror of finding them all down there has yet to be matched. He had never felt more self-loathing, more pure disgust than the moment he had found those children, tortured and pale, all because of him.

How you didn't see him for the wretched thing he was after all that, Astarion wasn't sure. But he was grateful. You were too good for him. A fact that he was devastatingly aware of, but that wasn't going to stop him from keeping you.

He still thinks about it on occasion, despite the fact that he had done all he could to right his wrongs. They all at least had a chance now to have a life worth living, Astarion could only hope that it would be used. Their future was out of his hands now, a small comfort.

But despite his complicated feelings towards children, he was more than capable of handling them for one evening. And in all honesty, he truly didn't have to do much. He was on self-mandated baby duty, because of course you had to help out the infant that would scream bloody murder unless it was being held. Keeping her tucked against him was a move of self-preservation, if he ever wanted to retain his hearing.

Most of the night was spent amused as he watched you entertain a gaggle of toddlers. You were so... creative with the ways you could defuse their antics. It came to you so naturally, nearly like you were a born mother yourself. It wasn't exactly surprising that you were fantastic with children, he had seen it time and time again. Arabella, Mol, Yenna, all of which still wrote you letters, visited occasionally. Staying forever attached, even from a distance.

Now that Astarion thought about it, it was odd that you weren't a mother. Odder still that you hadn't never even brought up the possibility of having children together. You were usually so open with your wants and always encouraging the same from him. Just one more thing he loved about you. But... why hadn't it been mentioned? Astarion had always assumed it was because you didn't truly want any of your own, that you enjoyed their fun innocence while avoiding the more laborious responsibility of raising them.

Though watching you take care of them all, changing diapers and negotiating silly arguments with a soft smile of your face had him rethinking his assumption.

"You're good with them," Astarion said eventually after you had successfully set the older three down for the night, the baby still stubbornly clinging to him, "I don't think there's a child we've met that doesn't adore you."

You laughed quietly, walking over to kiss him softly on the cheek. Your eyes wandered to the sleeping infant in his arms, still holding a piece of his shirt in it's little fist, "You don't seem to be too bad with them either."

"Newborns don't know any better," Astarion dismissed as he tried to put her down in their borrowed crib. Tried and failed, considering how the thing immediately started to whine the second he attempted to pry it's little hand away.

Oh for fuck's sake. Astarion wasn't even going to try and argue. Instead he unbuttoned his shirt and let it fall into the crib with her, seemingly doing the trick of stopping her from waking completely.

When he turned back you were staring at him with soft eyes, looking lovestruck at the simple act of him laying a child down, "Looks like she has pretty good taste to me."

"I don't think your judgment should be trusted," Astarion huffed as he walked over to you, grabbing your hand to drag you to the bedroom. He glanced back at you, his heart nearly skipping a beat from the sweet way you kept looking at him. It had his mind wandering again, those questions still nagging him.

Questions that he didn't have the courage to ask until dead of night, when he had you half asleep against his bare chest, "Have you ever thought of having children?"

He hadn't meant to blurt that out in the middle of the night, but Astarion apparently had a knack for starting important conversations at inconvenient times. Not that you minded.

You just cuddled into him closer, nodding against him with a sigh, "I've always wanted my own children. My own mother, Gods bless her soul, made it all sound so magical. Pregnancy, the early years, puberty, all of it. She loved it all. And I guess it rubbed off on me. It used to be all I could think about, before real life got in the way."

Astarion listened, a little annoyed at himself for not putting the pieces together sooner. You had talked so lovingly about your late parents, how you always wanted to be like your mother. Of course you would want children. How had he not connected the dots?

"But then I went off to the temple," You continued, "I completed my training, went off into the world to do good, blah, blah, blah. You know the story."

"So you grew out of the idea?" Astarion asked.

"Not exactly," You admitted, sounding a little guilty, "But I would never ask that of you love, it's not something you have to worry about."

That-what?

Astarion stared down at you, brow furrowed, "What do you mean?"

"I mean I know that the topic of children is... difficult for you. Considering everything you've been through-"

"I think you mean to say everything I've inflicted on others," Astarion interrupted, unwilling to allow himself grace. Especially when it came to the children of the Gur, "It was much worse for them than me."

You nodded, knowing better than to try and fight him on that particular topic, "I understand, but my point is that I can live without them. You're all I need."

It was comforting to hear, an immediate balm to a brand new set of insecurities that Astarion hadn't been prepared for. But even so... he hated the idea of you sacrificing even more for him. It felt wrong, "But-"

"But nothing," You interrupted softly, setting a quick kiss to his mouth, I'm serious Astarion, you don't need to worry. I'm happy, I love you, and everything is fine."

"I love you too," Astarion murmured, at a loss to say anything else. But the conversation didn't end there.

Astarion couldn't stop thinking about it, even long after the temporary children were sent back home. ou seemed so... sure that he didn't want children, and a week ago he probably would have agreed. But that was back before he knew that he was actively keeping you away from something you wanted. Something you had dreamed about since you were a child. And it felt wrong to be the reason for that, so, so wrong.

He didn't even know if his true feelings on the matter were real. He didn't want children for many of the same reasons he never wanted a partner. The attachment to another was dangerous, he was beyond unequipped to deal with others, let alone care for them, and the entire ideology behind love was ripe for manipulation and heart break. But then he met you and everything changed. Suddenly, caring for another didn't feel like a weakness, it felt like the strongest aspect of his entire self. Taking care of you wasn't an unwanted duty, it was intimacy. Something that he now craved. If all of those steadfast ideals could fall apart simply through meeting you, whose to say he could even trust himself when it came the thoughts around having a child?

Would having one truly be so bad? A little piece of the two of you, alive in the world? And perhaps children were annoying but... Astarion would be lying if he said he didn't have a soft spot for them. He had kept his distance before, but now he was fully confident that he wasn't a danger, no with Cazador burned to nothing bus ash and his own bloodlust well controlled. And it's not as if he was incapable of being a father, worse men than him did it everyday.

It was a confusing place to be, this tightwire of indecisiveness. Confusing enough for him to start a bit of research. He was vaguely aware that it was possible for his kind to breed, but finding out the details was disheartening, to say the least. First he had to parse out the different horror stories of babes eating their way out of their mother's wombs with actual facts, which wasn't exactly pleasant. But the truth was that it was more than possible for the two of you to have child together. It had the potential to either be as noneventful as any pregnancy, with the cavate that the babe coming out looking slightly... dead wouldn't be a permanent state of being. Or it could be as risky as carrying a child could be, with pains and complications galore, even legitimate worries of internal bleeding from the wretched thing prematurely growing claws. Not to mention the occasional, intense blood lust that could occur, an experience that Astarion would prefer you didn't have to go to.

Looking into the reality of the choice didn't help as much as he had assumed it would. If anything it just made the whole situation more real. Even if he wasn't a vampiric spawn, childbirth was risky. Maybe not as risky for you considering how Astarion would move the heavens and hells to get you the best care possible, but still. The thought of you passing, leaving him alone with the child you wanted and would never see, would destroy him. Completely and utterly.

But then again... there was the magical alternative of everything working out just fine. The two of you were both beyond lucky in that regard, considering how you'd overcome mind flayer parasites and fought and won against a near god. It was more than possible that everything would be fine, that you would have a beautiful pregnancy that would end in an even more amazing child. Then two would become three, a family of his very own.

That... didn't sound too bad. Astarion was torn. On one hand, he was almost certain that he was willing to go through with it. Not just because he loved you and wanted you to be happy, though it was the main reason. But also because... he could be a part in making something good. A child that would never suffer the way he did, the way countless others had. One who would be loved, who would have the help they needed for their inevitable unholy hungers. Someone precious for the two of you to fret over, to adore and care for. He... wanted that. Or at least he would if you still did. Now if he could just figure out how to bring it up, maybe something could actually happen.

But luckily enough for him, you did the job for him. He had been pouring over another book dedicated to recording the births of Dhampirs in the area, only to be distracted by you loudly sighing behind him.

"What's wrong love?" Astarion asked, his eyes still scanning the page in front of him.

"Oh I don't know," You sighed, rounding the corner to sit on the edge of his desk, "I just can't help but wonder when you're going to explain why you've suddenly become obsessed with parenting books. And..."

You trailed off, ignoring his surprised expression to read the cover of what was in front of him, "'Vampiric and Mortal Love & The Spawn They Create'. It's not exactly your usual reading material."

Part of Astarion wanted to be surprised that you had already figured him out. He had at least been trying to hide things from you slightly, not that it mattered when you could read him like a book. And he supposed that blatantly reading things like this in front of you would eventually have an effect, even if he tried to obscure the titles.

But that didn't stop him from stuttering through a response, "Well-I, okay. I've just been thinking about options lately. Which you can't really do if you don't understand what they are. Hence the books."

You frowned at him, one leg crossed over the other, "Star, I already told you that you don't need to worry-"

"But I want to worry," Astarion interrupted, deciding that ripping the band-aid off would be the best course of action, "And if there is something I can be doing to make you happier than I should at least consider it."

"I'm not going to force you into this for that," You said softly, reaching out to twine his fingers against yours, "This isn't the kind of thing you do just for someone else."

Astarion was aware of that, there was an important truth to your words. But... "What if it wasn't just for you?"

You paused, your brow furrowed as you stared at him, "What do you mean?"

"I mean what if, and consider this purely hypothetical, what if I wanted one as well. What then?" It was as far from hypothetical as Astarion could get, but by the look on your face it didn't seemed like that needed to be clarified.

You swallowed, looking just shy of hopeful as you played with his hand, "I... well. I guess in that case we would have a lot to talk about."

That wasn't quite the answer he was looking for. He pressed on, "So if in theory, I did want one. Would... you still be interested in having one?"

With me?

He left that part unsaid as he waited for an answer, uncharacteristically nervous as you mulled it over. But you were smiling, bright and wide, giving his hand a little squeeze as you spoke, "I think that would be the only scenario where I would want it. If that's something you wanted."

"I think it is," Astarion answered honestly, done with being coy, "I don't know how, I... I'm not quite sure how I feel about you carrying something that could be dangerous. But... in general yes. I think I want this. I do want this. With you and only you. Whenever your ready."

The next part Astarion did see coming, his arms already open by the time you launched yourself at him. You straddled his lap, kissing every part of his face as you babbled, "We can wait! It doesn't need to be now but-I just-yes! Adoption, childbirth, I don't care. All I need is to have them with you. That's all I want."

"And that I can give," Astarion laughed, delighted at your reaction. He still had concerns, plenty of them in fact, but they were hard to consider when the woman he adored was so ecstatic.

He gripped your chin, chuckling at the whine you let out for him interrupting your onslaught of affection. You didn't have to wait long, not when he directed your mouth against his, kissing you deeply as a new wave of exciting, and slightly nauseating feelings worked through him.

He didn't know exactly what was going to happen in the future. He had no idea if he would be a good father, but he knew that he would try his damndest. He didn't know how the two of you would even procure a child, but he did no one thing.

With you by his side, it would work out. All of it, no matter how hard the road turned out to be. And that was all that mattered.

[mypoisonedvine]

Oh em gee 23 with Bucky!!!!!

23: "It's hard to get used to." "What?" "Being someone that someone cares for..."

not me writing the most wholesome shit like i'm not gonna sandwich this with some nasty as hell requests lmaoooo

warnings: touch starved bucky, hurt/comfort, description of injuries, doctor!reader (but very vague), way too fucking fluffy tbh like who am i?

The silence was comfortable; you were getting more familiar with it, at least. You couldn't be friends, or coworkers, with someone like Bucky without being alright with very long stretches of quiet.

But you weren't totally sure if you were friends or coworkers-- sort of both, sort of neither. Technically, he was your patient, but this was hardly a traditional clinical environment; first of all, you were dressing his wounds while sitting on his bed, like you always did. For obvious but unspoken reasons, he didn't react well to a sterile medical environment with those cold metal tables and bright lights...

Second of all, you were at least friendly with each other, and talked outside of those times where he needed attention (uh, medical attention that is), even if you weren't sure if you were close enough to call him a friend. You wanted to know more about him, but he was pretty cagey, and you didn't want to be overwhelming; but you also didn't take it too personally, it wasn't like he was very close with anyone that you could tell, outside of Steve.

And third of all, your heart was racing as your eyes scanned the muscles of his back, but you know... that was sort of inevitable. Of course you felt guilty for ogling him a little bit, but technically the Hippocratic oath never said anything about... admiring.

He winced a little when you pressed the gauze against one of his scrapes; "Sorry," you mumbled, breaking the long silence finally.

"It's okay," he replied quickly.

And then the quiet again; the next time you broke it, it was because you noticed him shaking slightly. You narrowed your eyes, ignoring it at first (maybe he was just shivering because he was cold with no shirt on?), but it got more obvious a second later... he was tense, like he was trying to suppress it, and you frowned. "Is everything okay?"

He only nodded, saying nothing, and you tried to lean around him to see his face-- but he looked away, keeping the back of his head towards you.

"Bucky, I need to know if you're okay," you insisted.

"M'fine," he whispered quickly, but his voice was breaking-- maybe it was a little aggressive, but you grabbed his face and turned his head towards you, finding his eyes red and tears on his face.

"Oh my god! Are you in that much pain?" you yelped. "Where is it hurting? Why didn't you tell me!?"

"N-no, I'm fine," he insisted again, "it's not-- I can hardly feel it, stop worrying."

"How can I not worry?" you laughed nervously, tilting your head. "And how can you not feel that? You took some serious hits... but that's not the point! Can you tell me what's going on?"

He sighed a little, looking up at you tenderly. "You just... you take such good care of me."

You wanted to answer, it's my job, but that would've been a lie. Well, it would've been technically true, but not really accurate, if that makes sense. Then you wanted to answer I care about you, but that would've been a little too accurate.

You didn't say anything, you were too stunned by the way he was looking at you. "It's hard to get used to."

"What?"

"Just... being someone that... someone cares for..."

Your heart sank-- actually, your whole body seemed to, as you slumped a little bit and sat lower on the bed to be at eye-level with him again. "Oh, Bucky..." you trailed off as you sighed, reaching up to wipe away one of his tears.

He quickly pushed your hand away-- not hard or anything, but immediate-- and frowned a little. "Don't," he mumbled. "It's not-- we aren't..."

"What?" you asked again gently. He looked down and shook his head. "Bucky, please talk to me."

"Don't touch me like that," he continued again, quieter, "if I can't... if it doesn't mean anything."

You blinked quickly, trying not to hope for too much just because of your own feelings. "Okay," you breathed. "I won't. Not if it doesn't mean anything."

He looked at you again; and you slowly reached up, and wiped the other cheek with your hand.

You were only so brave because of how he pressed against your touch, how he shut his eyes and leaned into it and took a deep breath in through his nose; only because he looked so relieved by it did you have the guts to move closer to him, straddling your legs around his lap.

He opened his eyes, of course, when you did that, and looked up at you with the most beautiful expression-- surprise, sure, but thankfully not discomfort or shock as you'd feared. Your other hand came back to his other cheek so you could hold his face gently; both his hands came up and braced yours, keeping them there. Relief was an understatement-- you felt so much at once, and even though your heart broke for him, it was so amazing knowing you could actually help him. Knowing maybe you could treat more than just the wounds that you could see.

He hugged you a little suddenly, a little tightly, as he buried his head against your chest; you sighed slightly and wrapped your arms around him, too, letting yourself fully relax on top of him.

You did bring one hand up to brush lazily through his hair, you weren't sure why but it just felt natural to do. You felt more of his tears wet your shirt, and one of his hands clutch a little tighter at your back.

"It's okay," you promised under your breath. "You're okay..."

This was the longest silence yet, it was impossible to say how long you two stayed like that. It felt like forever, yet it went by quickly.

"I can't be here all night," you finally found the courage to mumble to him at some point. "I have to go, you know, eventually-- other people are injured--"

"I-I know," he sniffled weakly, pulling his reddened face back from your chest. "I know, but... will you come back?"

You'd never heard him sound so... small? You smiled and tilted your head. "Of course," you offered, brushing some hair away from his face and tucking it behind his ear. "I'll always come back."

[yuri-is-online]

There's Mud in Your Eye (Leona and Deuce x Yuu)

"Oh can I help you? You seem to be lost." You attempt to cheerfully ask the vaguely familiar looking person in front of you. As if he is deliberately trying to rub salt in your wounds, Crowley ignored your request to leave campus for NRC parents day and is instead making you and Grim run errands. The person in front of you, blissfully ignorant to your inner turmoil perks up at your attention.

"Forgive me for asking, but are you the magicless prefect?" You and Grim exchange a confused glance. "You've got to be right?" They're practically glowing with how happy they are to see you. " Oh I'm sorry, I've just heard so much about you!" Wait, what?

notes: they/them pronouns used for Yuu, i am out of creative ways to describe these: it's Cheka and Mamma Spade. Slight references to the White Rabbit event. If you liked this please check out the previous parts on my master list here.

Leona

A very confused, very important looking little lion is standing in front of you, attempting to mimic Leona's judgey thinking face. Five year olds lack the smarmy bitterness required to truly pull off the look, but you have to admit, it is pretty cute.

"Um, do you think he ran away from his guards again?" Grim whispers, painfully loud and without nearly enough concern. "Do you think we'll get in trouble if we can't get him back to his retainers?" The scenario feels completely unreal, but then again so does standing in front of royalty. Who are you again anyway? Just some weirdo who is going to have to apologize to their loved ones for taking so long to come home because you couldn't sneeze in another world without bumping into royalty. While you are busy considering whether or not it would be considered child neglect to sprint away from the little guy, Cheka finally finishes his thought process, letting out a contented "hmmm" as he points decisively at you.

"You," he says with all the authority of an extra on a children's tv show "are not Unca."

Well.

That was not what you were expecting. Your mind draws a lengthy blank as Cheka grins up at you in a surprisingly catlike manner seemingly very pleased with himself.

"How did it take ya so long to figure that out?" It has to be a truly stupid question to get Grim's voice to crack.

"Well I decided I was gonna sneak up on Unca." A terrible idea really but who are you to refute royalty. "So instead of running around and askin I decided to just focus on his scent! But I found two places he could be so I just decided to go to the closer one."

"Whatdya mean?" Grim takes a deep breath and interrupts his train of thought with a hard gag you really hope is dramatic. "Oh wow he ain't wrong, you really smell like that lazy bi-" You manage to muzzle him before he can teach Checka too many bad words. You wonder if it would be rude to sniff yourself in front of a literal prince, Cheka's pleased little tail swish doesn't help.

"Can you please take me to Unca?" he asks, so very sweetly looking up at you like you're the shiniest star in the night sky. It hurts to disappoint him.

"Uh I'd love to little guy but I'm not too sure where he is..." you really hope Cheka can't tell just how nervous you are. Crowley did give you a schedule, but it wasn't super detailed, just a vague set of notes about the various events going on.

"Then I'll just stay here with you!" He says, with a surprising degree of authority. "Unca's scent is really strong so I'm sure he'll show up soon!"

''I don't think that's a good idea little guy." You just called the Crown Prince of the Sunset Savannah a little guy. Which he is but you are pretty sure there's a time period where that would have gotten you executed, and you can only pray it's not now. The intense look of what you assume are Cheka's guards running up the main street is not helping with that.

"Your highness! Please don't run off like that." The man seems wary of scolding the prince, but he has no qualms about staring you down. "You! What is your name and who do you think you are to be speaking so casually to-" He cuts himself off, bluster fading as he takes a deep breath and starts staggering away from you. Well not you per se, you realize as you turn around and see an extremely intense looking Leona behind you.

"Stop blamin' your inability to do your job on other people." Leona's voice is slow, authoritative enough that you almost forget he's supposed to be the second prince. The guards do too, until Cheka jumps away from them onto Leona's shoulders and shatters the illusion just a bit.

"Unca! Unca! You're gonna show me the spelldive fields right?" Cheka nuzzles his Uncle's cheek while Leona tries his best to get away.

"I thought you were gonna stay with Prefect." He grumbles.

"We can come with." You say before you fully realize what you're saying surprised at how ok you are with the offer. Cheka lights up, jumping away from his Uncle to nuzzle up to you. Leona's gaze softens ever so slightly, even if he immediately breaks eye contact and starts walking away from you.

"You're welcome to come if you can keep up." You try to convince yourself you follow him just to get away from the guards, but there's a spring in both your steps no one is brave enough to act like they notice.

Deuce

"Yuu! And Grim too! Lucky me I thought I was going to be stuck looking for my kids for at least another hour." Dilla Spade cheerfully says, her decision to refer to you as her child momentarily distracting you from the fact Deuce is nowhere to be seen. She seems to have been granted a day off from work, her usual delivery uniform ditched in favor of a very mom like set of old sweatpants and an old athletic jacket with a logo you assumed belonged to Deuce's middle school.

"Mama Spade!" Strange feelings aside you are extremely happy to see Dilla, and happier still when she perks up just a bit at your calling her mom. "Did Deuce forget to text you again?"

"Not exactly," she says with an affectionate sigh "I caught up with him a bit earlier but he ran off to find his Housewarden. He really wanted to introduce us but said it might be a bit difficult to make that happen."

"Yeah..." Grim says as you exchange a look "Riddle's a really busy guy."

"Well never mind then." She says with a shrug. "What's up with you? Deucey tells me all sorts of things, but it's never the full truth." You shouldn't be surprised Dilla knows something is up. Honestly it's a wonder any of the students with a half way decent relationship with their parents hasn't been yanked out of this school already.

"Nothing too bad I hope?" You say, hopeful that Dilla will give you something to work with so you don't confess to something too wild. She laughs.

"I'm a mom, worrying's part of the territory." You breathe a sigh of relief, though you can't help but wonder just what Dilla's reaction would be to knowing Deuce had fought four overblot phantoms. Would she be proud? You hope so, he deserves it. "I keep telling Deuce to invite you to spend summer with us but he's really hung up on doing things the 'honorable way.'" You try your best not to fluster.

"What's that even mean?" Whines Grim, probably thinking more about the donuts you had while visiting Clock Town more than the implications kicking around in your mind. "offerin' to help me and my hench human out is honorable enough!"

"It really is," you try not to come off as too eager, it would be really nice to spend the Summer somewhere that wasn't Ramshackle, even if it would hurt the ghost's feelin-

"Is Deuce waitin' till he can afford a ring or somethin'?" Grim says, crossing his little paws and sticking your words in your throat. Dilla winking at the little monster with a conspiratorial grin makes you choke. "He is isn't he! Hmph, figures. Well he knows he won't get the Great Grim's permission!"

"Grim!" You squeak.

"Well you are a bit young," Dilla says "but you have my blessing prefect."

"I- I think there's been a bit of a misunderstanding-" you don't want to get anyone's hopes up, you aren't even dating Deuce, you want to say that you don't like him that way, but the lie dies on your lips as a familiar duo comes into view just behind Dilla.

"MOM! oh and PREFECT!!!" The overwhelming joy in Deuce's eyes contrasting with the smug amusement of Ace makes you feel just a bit more at home, despite the awkwardness of the situation. You can almost convince yourself that he's running up the road on the double just to see you.

"Think of it this way," whispers Dilla, firmly placing a hand on your shoulder in a comforting and not forceful way "you're family, and you always will be no matter what label gets slapped on things. Though I am pretty sure you can guess Deuce's preference."

You can, or at least you can hope.

[threepandas]

Bad End: Games Played

As children, we learn to play the Quite Game.

It's rather simple. You scrunch down real small, ball yourself real tight, and find the bestest most hard to reach hiding spot you can! Then? Oh THEN, children, we all get really, REALLY quite. Until mummy or daddy find you. And no matter what, no matter WHO, you Do Not Move, until THEY come and find you.

Not for treats. Not for hugs. Not for threats or scary noises.

No. Matter. What.

To the others, it was a game. But to me? Born just a bit... different? I looked my parents in the eyes, saw the fear that lived there. That hunted them and haunted their dreams. I watched the way they acted. Guarding me. Never letting me wander. Keeping me between them as they slept. Holding me, shielding me. Both whispering their lessons, their love, each moment they could.

And I knew it was no game.

I was an obedient child. Perhaps that is why I lived, where others did not.

Or perhaps? It was my vague, half remembered, knowledge of this world. To be more exact, the chronological series of Otome games, set in this world. Endless streams of political and social clusterfucks, that cast the map into conflict after conflict, all for the selfish romances of a few. Pseudo-historical straight to pseudo-modern magical realism.

Clans of mages. Elves, werewolves, the whole shebang. All trapped in an endless cycle of conflict. Sometimes silent, sometimes open. Always, soaked in blood.

But hey... at least the Protagonist is happy! Right?

We should be furious. We should HATE them.

Our Clan? Did shadow magic. Unfortunately. Because unsurprisingly, Otome troupes ran true, and we? Have a complete Edgy Little Fuckboi as our Clan Heir. Worse still, I RECOGNIZE that Edgy Little Fuckboi! The fucking chuunibyou is a romance target!

I'm sorry, I was under the impression the Clan Heir's job was to KEEP US ALL ALIVE! Not get your DICK WET! But, my bad! My fucking MISTAKE! How COULD I have BEEN so foolish! You go on, then! Just piss RIGHT off, and leave the rest of us to suffer, while you chase SOMEONE ELSE'S GIRLFRIEND!

Fuckwit!

Ha ha.... oh god. We're all gonna die. Aren't we?

We should trust Alphard. No one else understands us.

Everyone? Absolutely fucking EVERYONE? Waves it off. 'Just a phase' and 'he's young, he'll get it out of his system'. As though the problems doesn't run deeper. As though the Clan Head isn't an old man, barely holding us together. As though he isn't planning to hand it all over to a chuunibyou who refuses to sit still and LEARN ANYTHING. Who picks fights he expects US to win for him. Expects US to die for him.

So he can look 'cool'.

Alphard is basicly running this place. But does the Clan Head care? No. Because Alphard is a 'half-breed'. Because ALPHARD has the audacity to be, what? Fire Mage?! Oh dear god! Not ANOTHER GROUP OF HUMANS!? Gasp! Shock! Someone call the fantasy church! Fuckers.

Ooooh but their TEMPER! Everyone knows how UNSTABLE they are!

We should show them 'Unstable'. Make them regret what they've done.

'Bout to see up close and in person MY 'temper' and 'unstable' fuckin BOOT, old man!

No, I don't care if that made sense! Shut up! Fuck you! I get to be upset, okay!? This is nepotism and it's dangerous! And... and NO ONE LISTENS TO ME! It's like they're merrily marching towards a cliff and calling ME paranoid for pointing it out! Telling me to calm down. To stop exaggerating. It's a CLIFF!

The only one who listens? Is Alphard.

Alphard is our friend. Alphard listens to us. We should Trust Alphard.

Storming towards his office, shadows writhing in my wake, I seriously wonder. Would I have gone completely apeshit by now with out him? Left the clan? I don't know how he can bear it. The weight of their stubbornness. Their wilful blindness, which IS going to get people hurt. Killed. Probably already fuckin has.

How many more clansmen do we have to LOSE?

They'd tucked him away in some side wing, like some dirty little family secret. I'd always hated it. Big whoop! He gets two powers instead of one! Jealous ass little shits. It was fear and politics. I KNEW it was! He refused to say so, but I KNEW. And no amount of pained smiles and changing the subject would make me drop it!

It wasn't RIGHT.

God, the more time went on? The angrier I felt about it. The more it burned me. Ate me up inside. It's like my temper just...? Gah! Fuck this and fuck THEM! We don't need them! We should leave! Just the two of us. Go and never com-!

.....wait a second... that's not... right....

My head pounds with the worst sort of migraine. Shadows hissing like angry cats, as they crawled viciously around my head. Chasing whisps of something they can't seem to catch. I stopped between hallways. In one of our Clan's many, MANY shady areas. Leaning more into the darkness... helped. Made my head hurt less.

God, I've got to talk to talk to Alphard about this. It's starting to really worry me. The anger, the snarling flare ups, the dark moods. Not to mention the obsessive thoughts. It wasn't like me. Might be a curse? Maybe. Could be fire magic or related, so he would know. And if not? Well, nothing beats Fire for burning curses away.

....actually, Light, might. But we are A PROUDLY BIASED household here, thank you. So like? Not gonna SAY Shadow magic is BEST magic... BUT it absolutely, totally IS. And Alphard? OBVIOUSLY the greatest Fire Mage alive! No I will not be taking questions, thank you and goodnight.

We should see Alphard, we miss him.

Yeah... yeah I do really miss him, dont I? Where is he?

My head throbs viciously. Ow. It's been getting worse. My control too. My shadows fighting me at every turn. Which? Scares me more. Because YEAH, others? Have been big on the 'beat them into submission' tract of Shadow Mastery. But ME? No, no. I know for a FACT. You can not rule through fear. Not for long.

Bribery and alliances work wonders. Friendships and love. My shadows get FED. They get CUDDLES. I take my shadows for enrichment walkies and give them interesting puzzle boxes to play with. They fuckin LOVE me. Would meat thresher through CITIES if I asked.

So to suddenly Stop Listening?

It means they think I'm... I'm not myself. They are making the executive decision to act on my behalf, to protect me, even if they have to do so FROM me. And... and I don't know what's causing it. Don't know what's wrong or how to fix it. I'm getting scared.

Because something is very wrong.

Everything is fine.

Another wave of vicious hissing, of throbbing pain in my head. This time though... THIS time? I think I felt that. The discordant thoughts. The contradiction. That isn't me. There's something in me head that DEFINITELY isn't me! No there isn't. No WONDER my Shadows are so pissed! Fuck!

I stick to the darker hallways. It helps with concentration, the pain. Whatever is in my head? Is like sticky, burning, spiderwebs. Like trying to grab at thin lines of super heated metal, covered in tar. How... how LONG has it all BEEN there?

You should leave it. You don't know what you're doing. You could get hurt.

Oh fuuuuck YOU. Get out of my HEAD! Where is Alphard?

I stumble down the final hallway to his so called 'office'. It was a guest room once. As a kid, I helped him convert it. Back when the old fuck refused to step down, despite his son and heir, the next clan head, being DEAD. And? AND!? That Heir's fuckin chuunibyou kid being a tiny, insufferable, brat.

We get it! You're hurting! EVERYBODY'S hurting! Your fuckwit parents got HALF THE WARRIORS KILLED! We STILL haven't recovered from that. And Edgy pants goes on and ON about the 'glory of his ancestors' as though? He's not talking about his PARENTS. One generation fucking BACK!

That family ORPHANED me. But do you see ME starting shit? No!

Yet? God forbid the Old Bastard do what's RIGHT for the Clan! No, no! Between a literal infant, a FUCKING ZYGOTE, and a fully grown adult? Better pick the baby! Who CARES that Alphard was the better choice!? Chuunibyou brat is BLOOD! And we CAN'T have the 'half-breed' nephew in charge!

Better connections? More accomplishments? Fully trained and, once again, AN ADULT? All irrelevant. He's too fucking well liked! Too TRUSTED! Too much a THREAT to your precious little legacy and hold on power. So hey, fuck the rest of the Clan! Right? Why would WE need competent leadership!? You can just shove all the work you can no longer DO, on to Alphard.

Force him to rule in all but name. All but honor and title. Spit in his face then tell him to thank you.

Bastard!

He isn't there, in his over crowded office. Piles of paperwork. Empty tea cups, long cold. Mismatched pillows I'd stolen from around the compound, to make it feel less depressing. His classy art pieces mixing with my cheap, shitty ones. The souvenirs I'd brought back, again and again, because I do not forget my friends.

My head hurts so bad. How long has it been building?

Another wave of pain, as my Shadows hissing and growl in outrage, writhing like electric snakes around me. Safe and stronger, here in the unlit office of a friend. They want 'it' out. Hunt and hunt, but can not catch hold. How strong must the caster be? Older then me, probably. Far more experienced. I've been pretty diligent.

They'll stand no chance, though, against Alphard.

He's the best curse breaker I know. Honestly? He's the best at a lot of things. It's been great to learn from him. And he's? Gonna lose his SHIT. He already worries when I go out without him. But to find out somebody slipped a curse on me? Ooooh, shit. I'd almost laugh, if my head didn't feel like it was in a VICE.

Man's gonna feed them their KNEES.

As a PASTE.

.......I wonder, now that I think about it? Looking around the crowded office space? If Alphard has any pain meds? He SHOULD. There's no way in hell, he deals with chronic stupid all day without headaches. He should? Definitely have something for this. Probably. Might not actually FIX it, since it's magic based, but it can't HURT.

Decided, I get up. Slowly. Spread my shadows out. They love doing simple, achievable, tasks. Like 'find the box!' Or 'open this puzzle!', usually for treat rewards. (Cup time, usually. Or bits of my food. But honestly? They LOVE cup time. They like to hide under it and push it around the floor. Each group of them have favorite cups.)

Nothing but paper, cups, snacks, a couple piles of pillows, and a coat I had forgotten. Huh. Maybe his desk? Would make the most sense I suppose. It'd be on hand. Head and neck, one big regret, I stiffly shambled over. Organized chaos. More nonsense and damages caused by chuunibyou and his sycophants, in the name of luuuuuv~. God damn it.

At least no one died... this time.

I tear my eyes away from the top page. The one next to it? Shouting reports. Elves: pissed, werewolves: pissed, everybody: pissed. Guess who's fault? Oh fantastic! So THAT'S why he's not in his office. Probably trying to keep us all from dying. Another report after that. Protagonist-chan.... wow that's unflattering. Word it a little harsher, why don't you?

My eyes absent-mindedly keep scanning, as I look for a med box. Some sort of pill bottle. Something that might hold headache medication. Nothing on top of the desk. Drawer? Should be top right one, right? Since he's right handed? Easiest to reach. Let's see... pens, pens, spellwork paper, brushes, mints, bottle! AaaHAH! I hold it up to what little light there is and squint.

Wow. That's pretty strong. And not just for headaches.

.....should I have a talk with Alphard? Probably. Maybe? Definitely keep an eye on this. Don't wanna be jumping to conclusions, here. Still! Helpful. Down the hatch!

I pop back one of his pills, stealing one of his fancy tea in a can. He may complain, but we both know he won't stop me. Nor does he even mean it when he does. I'm like this sorta needy, demanding, housecat. I wander in, eat his food, tell him to pay attention to me, then wander off. Should have known better then to feed me, that first time~! He got stuck with me ever since.

Briefly a burning wire escape my grip. We should-Stop THAT! I beat it back down. Violently. It's taking a lot more concentration, more pain, then I'd like to admit, to fight it. Damn near wack a mole in my brain. There's no-CEASE! Desist! You are NOT welcome! Get! GET!

The pain meds are definitely helping. A LOT.

In fact...? Huh. Looking around? Without the pain to distract me? Those... aren't my shitty art works. Not the meme-y ones I bought, that I thought he'd like, nor the pieces I made in various art classes. They're just...? Random cheap art.

What the fuck?

Was Alphard ROBBED? Also? Where are HIS pieces? That one with the lady and the clearing? The couple dancing near the lake? That little statue? It's all random snobby fake art. Like someone wanted to give the IMPRESSION that nothing had changed, but had cleared out everything personal...

Alarmed. I looked down at the can I grabbed. It was the kind he offered to guests. Kept for me. Because... because he couldn't STAND it. Too sweet. Tearing the mini fridge back open? Nothing but cheap tea cans and teas he hated remained.

I slammed it closed. Urgently reached for the tea cubbies. Fancy LOOKING teas. The kind Alphard always makes fun of. Quality is in the tea, not the pretty pictures on the box, he says. His tea is GONE. Worse? MY drinks are gone! Why are MY drink-? The coat!

My hand snaps out. The coat flung into it by my shadows. The instant it touchs my palm, I know it is wrong. Too rough and too new. Some modified mimicry that my shadows could tell apart from the original. It's not their fault. They don't have senses like mine. I stare at it, feeling a building sense of panic, before look back up at the room around me.

Is... is ANYTHING where it should be?

Gaze snapping from place to place, shaking as the panic starts to swallow me whole, I realize... No. Not a single thing. It's all staged. Made to LOOK like nothing's wrong. When... when everything IS. Oh god. Where is Alphard? What the FUCK have they DONE to him?!

I drop the coat. The drink. Adrenaline slamming into me like a truck. Slamming the door open, I flood the hallway beyond with writhing, furious night. I AM Shadow and it IS Me. We run. Hunting, hurting, FURIOUS. If they have hurt our friend? If they DARE have-!

A howling whistle splits the night, closer, Closer, BANG. The compound rocks with the force of the explosion. The wards hiss to life like great titans of black sand. Ink dark, they nerely block out all light. Casting eerie spell light over the buildings below, as lights flip on. More whistling. Booms.

We are under attack.

For an instant, I am torn in two. Half of me? Demands I find my friend. They other half? Knows that I must protect the Clan. We stand together or we DIE together. Loyalty wins out. My parents, Alphard, the people I care about, they would never forgive me, if I abandoned my post now.

I turn from my hunt. Race towards the ward stones out front. I'll have to help the others reinforce them. Lend the Clan my strength. As long as they can't get in? We should be-

The wards SHUT OFF.

Even as I run, fast as I can, I watch with horrified eyes... as they slide back away. No. No no NO! They should do that! That CAN'T DO THAT! That's IMPOSSIBLE! Those are SEIGE Wards! Built over generations! Hundreds of mages poured power into them! Went over them with pin prick combs! They don't 'malfunction'!

Oh god. Please, God, NO!

Did someone SHUT THEM DOWN?!

Ahead, the sounds of violence and chaos draw near. Above, I can finally see what's raining down on us. It's war magic. FIRE war magic. Thrown from air ships, who's spotlights bathe the compound in a terrible, all consuming light. All the better, to prevent our Shadows from reaching even a single one of them.

Someone told. They didn't know about that limitation to our powers before. Our front gate! Open! Traitor, traitor, TRAITOR! WHO!?

Across the chaos, the bloodshed and death, familiar color catches my eye. Explosions and spotlights light him from above. The airships blades, kicking up leaves and dust. That familiar, familiar color. From his Father.... the fire mage.

Alphard stands so calmly, one hand still resting on the command stone for the wards. As chaos reigns around him. The pleased little smile on his face, the one he wears, when all his plans come together, ever so nicely. No. Please. No.

His eyes are so cold. So flat.

He feels nothing as they die. Doesn't even glance, at the kinsmen desperately calling his name. Dying at his feet. He... he doesn't look away. Just raises one hand, one finger, and...

"Shhhhhh~ Be. Good." He says, utterly silent in his betrayal.

My world shatters.

I run.

Slamming my palm against the evacuation alarm, sirens begin to blare. It's over. It's all... all fucking over. How could he? H-How COULD-? Grief wants to choke me, blind me, but I don't have the TIME. I have to get out. Survive. I.. I can cry later. Mourn for the friend I THOUGHT I had, later. I trusted him. FUCK, I TRUSTED him!

I skid around the corner, heading towards the closest exit. Gotta grab my bug out b-!

Shadows in the darkened hallway surge, up and over, like a heavy hand slamming down. I barely drag myself out of the way. Lose my footing as I do. Go crashing to the floor. Scrambling, I turn as my shadows hiss, only to be met with deeper rumbling thunder. Shit. No!

I try to get up. Fling my self up into a run. Only to meet a shadow formed backhand. Smashed, thrown. Finding myself slammed back, onto the floor, wheezing. The air knocked out of me. Lightly, dark shapes takes form. Alphard stepping through blank and barren wall, using the Shadows under his control as a medium.

Not a hair out of place.

Just the two of us.

Alone.

"Why the rush, mischief?" He teased lightly, as though my world was not collapsing, all around us. As though my best friend had not betrayed me, betrayed US, to our doom. Up and down the hall, sirens blared. "You look upset."

I snarled. Grief and betrayal twisting into something ugly in my chest. Hand whipping out, I aimed for his fucking throat.

"Ah~, you're mad. Is this because I didn't consult with you first? Mischief, there was so much to do! You know you hate all those boring political meetings. Alliance work and archival research. Sweetie, there were stake outs! You hate those."

Effortlessly, he leaned out of the way of my attacks, looking amused and unbothered as he continued to speak. I RAGED. Screamed. Taking chunks of the wall behind me, to use as projectiles. Anything. Anything, anything, ANYTHING! Just HURT, damn you! TRAITOR! How COULD YOU!?

In the distance... the haunting, damning, final cries of my kin, as the died.

I Trusted You!

"I know~" he laughed, as though nothing had changed. As though this were a fucking GAME! "It was so easy, too."

His voice became two toned in a way that could only be magic. One that was heard, one that was felt. One that... that I had...! Realization did not crash. It seeped, like the cold and fatal poison it was. His betrayal was not NEW... was it? Not SUDDEN.

I... I had been betrayed long, long ago.

No you weren't. Alphard loves you~

How long had he been in my head? He was my magical instructor. I had hated the Clan's main teachers. Right? DID I? Could I even know? H..How much? For HOW LONG?! I was a CHILD! Had no defenses against the manipulations of my mind! Would you really stoop so LOW?! Was ANYTHING real!? ANY part of out friendship-!?

I choked, on the sob I refused to let him have. He... he didn't have the RIGHT.

"Oh, Mischief." He said, sounding mournful as he strolled easily through the ruins I had created around us. "Don't cry. Shhh, shhhh. It's okay, dear. You're upset. This is upsetting, I understand that. But we will preserver, overcome, and together? We will get through this."

We? There was no 'WE'. N-Not anymore. Not after THIS.

"Oh but that's where you're wrong, Mischief." He breathes out, like the confession of the truely insane, his voice soft. Yet, somehow? Bonechilling in how loud it seemed.

"I get you."

"That's the first thing I demanded, after all! No more idiots. No more dead weight. No insults, fools, or brats I can't break! Ha ha! Just me and my Mischief! Free at last! And all it cost me? Was my chains. Best of all? All the idiot Fire brat wanted for it all? Was his 'competition' out of the way! Ha ha ha! Gods bless, usefull fools!"

He stood before me now. Head thrown back, hand over his eyes in disbelief, as he laughed and laughed. Unhinged with his euphoria. With the machinations, that had lead to his victory. And... and I could not recognize him. This... this monster wearing the face of my best friend. I felt numb. Cold and far away. I... I just... I wanted to go away... please, God. Far, far away.

Stop it. Please, Alphard... Stop it...

P-please...

My shadows curled around me. Battered, torn, but ever loyal. They would not leave me. Not even now. Not even to save themselves. Weakly hissing. Thrashing, trying, in their own small ways, to appear bigger and stronger threats then they were. In... in the vain hope that... that the thing that was hurting us? Might believe them.

Might leave me alone.

I had never felt so unsafe, surrounded by the shadows sworn to my once friend. How many times? How many times? Had I fed and played with these very Magics? Snuck them charcoal? Interesting toys to burn? Creatures of fire and shadow. Massive and rumbling, the very Shadows that once played with my own... now tore them apart.

It burned. Hurt. Who...? WHO was this man? This monster? That wore my best friends face? I couldn't... I can't... please! God, please! Don't make me do this anymore...

My mind, somewhere between delirious and screaming, for some god forsaken reason? Reminded me of the Quite Game. I... I wondered, terrified and full of grief, if the children would know to run. Not to wait, for parents that... that would not be coming. Not this time. Not ever again. All because of this man.

The smoke on the breeze terrified me. Everything terrified me. How? How could I possibly hold so much fear? How could there possibly be MORE? Just as I think I can not feel it anymore deeply. Once again, Alphard teaches me I am wrong. This... this is not how he, is... is supposed to be... how WE are...!

"Oh sweetheart, mischief, darling..." He again attempted to sooth, hand slipping away from his face as he rolled his head down to peer at me. Kneeling with almost boneless fluidity. "None of that. No more tears. Alphy's here, okay? I know change is scary. And you're upset and confused. But Alphy loves you just like always, and nothings gonna happen to you, alright?"

"Remember how you wanted to travel before? See those festivals? Go abroad? We get to do that now! Alphy can take CARE of you, now. Properly. Get you all the things you deserve. It'll be great, Mischief. No more stress or tears. Cuddles for days. You'll love it, I promise."

From beneath his feet, spreading like a terrible rot, black fire spread. It didn't touch me. Couldn't, as it seemed to reach, with greedy hands, down the halls. Consuming the only home I'd ever known in this life. Consuming everyone it touched, if the distant sounds of panic, were any indication. He was killing them all. Friend, foe, what difference was there?

Everything burned.

Numb, I could only sit there, before the stranger I thought I'd known.

"Our love story's been a long time coming, sweetness. My perfect, beautiful, Mischief~♡. Once we're free? We'll never look back. Have the happily ever after we deserve. Let the rest of the burn."

"I'm so glad I found you, Mischief. So glad I made you mine. It's going to be beautiful, darling. I promise. You'll thank me."

"Now come here, to Alphy. We're gonna play a game~♡"

[starstruckbyacomet]

Will They, Won't They?

What Could Have Been with Buck & Tommy's Break Up

Someone just argued with me that Tevan's break up on 8x06 "Confessions" had to be written THAT WAY, to keep the possibility of their reunion open.

I strongly disagree. Here's a better alternative plot for the break up, with the possibility of their reunion is kept open:

**************

Josh asked Buck not to judge the ones who came before him in pre-Glee world.

Buck: (Still upset) "It doesn't justified what Tommy has done to Abby. Abby was really hurt. I can't believe he's capable of doing something like that."

**************

Tommy picked Buck up for their movie date, then Buck told him about his relationship with Abby.

Buck: (Angry) "Why did you never tell me about Abby?"

Tommy: (Taking a deep breath) "It's still difficult for me to talk about my past, Evan. The things that happened to me... and things that I've done... were not great. I've meant to tell you everything. But I can only tell you little by little..."

Buck: "You hurt Abby! Right when she needed you the most! You knew her mother was very sick! I can't believe you could be that cruel! I thought I knew you!"

Tommy: "I didn't mean to deceive you. I'm sorry."

Buck: "That's not an excuse!"

Tommy: (Sigh) "You're right. You deserve a better person than me."

Silence.

Tommy: "I got to go. I'm sorry it has to come to this."

Slowly, Tommy gets up and walks to the door.

Buck: (Stunned) "Wa-wait, are you... breaking up with me?"

Tommy: "Yeah, I guess so. Believe me, I didn't see it's coming either. I knew that parking spot was too good to be true."

**************

Buck tells the 118 team about the break up. Their opinions are devided. Eddie and Chimney think Buck was too harsh. However, Bobby and Hen, who have struggled with their own past mistakes, couldn't tell Buck to forgive Tommy. In the end, stubborn Buck is still not convinced to forgive Tommy.

**************

Everyone's Acts Are Consistent with Their Characters

TOMMY: We never saw Tommy talked about his past in detail. In prior episodes, he only mentioned it in a very vague manner occassionally. Like, that he was not a good person under Gerard, his own father was similar to Gerard, and he was jealous to the familial-bond of the 118 team. Of course Buck was shocked after knowing Tommy was the one who treated Abby badly.

BUCK: Buck has always been fierce in protecting his loved ones. It's in his character that he couldn't easily forgive people who've hurt them.

BOBBY, HEN, EDDIE, CHIMNEY: They reacted to the news according to their past experience.

✅️ Audience could easily understand each of Buck and Tommy's point of views, and symphatize with them both. Nobody will blame Tommy for feeling not worthy of Buck. Nobody will blame Buck for being angry on behalf of Abby, and not forgiving Tommy so easily. 

✅️ Abby's relationship with Tommy would have more weight than just to be a joke material for Maddie and Josh.

✅️ Nobody will bat an eye if Buck dates other people after the break up. Buck is disappointed and brokenhearted. He has put Tommy on a pedestal, and the real Tommy is a disappointment for him.

✅️ And throw the Lakers tickets scene out of the window!!! It indicates that Buck hasn't been honest to Tommy about not liking basketball, even after six months in the relationship. It only paints Buck in the bad light. Who the f–k thought it was a good idea??? 👿👿👿

**************

Buck Forgives Tommy

Someday in the future, the 118 is called to an accident involving a woman who need an immediate blood transfusion. She has a rare type of blood. The only person who could donate the blood in time is the woman's father, an old man who lives in a different house. The old man is contacted and agrees to donate his blood. However, he insists that his daughter should never know the identity of the donor. After donating his blood, the old man leaves in a hurry, and leaves his wallet behind.

Buck, who has been curious, offers to return the wallet. While being at the old man's house, he asks why the old man doesn't want his daughter to know that the donor is her own father. Feelling indebted to the firefighter who has saved his daughter, the old man tells him the reason.

Old Man: "I was a closeted gay man when I married my late wife, Rosie's mother. She didn't know at the time.... I was determined to be a faithful husband, but I couldn't. I cheated on her with men, a couple of time.... I thought I'd been discreet. But someone spread a picture of me embracing a man at my workplace. It might be a jealous co-worker. I had my suspicion, but I couldn't prove it. And all hell broke loose..."

Silence.

Old Man: "It's a different time. It made a big scandal. Rosie was fifteen at the time. She was traumatized. I brought shame to her, and to my wife. I had to quit my job. It took me a while to get back on my feet. My wife was shunned at the church, at the family gathering. And Rosie was bullied at school. We had to transfer her to a different school. She's always blamed me for it, rightfully so."

Old Man is taking a deep breath.

Old Man: (Holding back tears) "I shouldn't marry Rosie's mother. But I was lonely. And I didn't want to die alone. I should give her a chance to find a good husband, who could be a good father to Rosie."

Old Man: "In the end, I hurt my wife and my daughter. And probably, I will die alone anyway..."

And that's the moment when Buck forgives Tommy.

A Closure for This Arc

Buck asks Tommy to meet him at a coffee shop (yes, THAT coffee shop). Buck tells the story of the old man and his daughter, and apologizes to Tommy for not understanding him sooner.

If Tim wants them to get back together: Buck and Tommy are single. Buck asks for a second (third?) chance and Tommy agrees.

If Tim doesn't want them to get back together: Buck and Tommy are in relationship with other people. Tommy is dating a man of the same age, who understands the pre-Glee world. Tommy is happy with his new boyfriend. Then, Buck and Tommy go their separate ways with no hard feeling.

THE END

**************

That's how it could've been done better. Instead, we got the dumpster-fire episodes, where almost everyone acted out of characters! WTF?!?!

[wordstome]

the very first night (ntwdt pt 2)

tell me that you hate it hate that i'm no longer in your reach if i can't hear you say it maybe you can't change it, but if you never if you never put it on the line how am i gonna sign for it?

alpha colonel König x beta ex-lover reader

2nd person, no y/n, she/her pronouns, reader's callsign is Eden, reader speaks French, omegaverse, exes to lovers, fraternization, fantasy version of military protocol, probable incorrect use of "copy"

2.2k words

tw: mentions of dead bodies and vague violence, dirty talk, könig is in rut but no actual sex happens, mention of grinding

Do you guys still even remember this au??? 😅 I'm back to writing this fic with this specific format just like the last time I had bad writer's block. I'm sorry that I basically made you guys take a poll and then immediately disregarded the results :( metalhead König is going to be the next one published, and then kosovo maiden. Anyway, this is less of a foray into the omegaverse as it is into exploring a married couple's dynamic. Forgive me if it's inaccurate, I've never been married. (Several of the people who will probably read this are married so...I might be really embarrassing myself here lol)

“Two on your six, O’Conor.”

König watches as his colleague takes down his pursuants with practiced ease. “Good to have someone watching over me, Eden.” the man roughs into his comms.

“It was my pleasure, Declan.”

“Can you two keep the flirting off the main comms?” Fender huffs. König hears O’Conor snort before the line goes quiet.

“Steady,” Horangi says next to him.

“What?” König says.

“You’re breathing like an angry bull. It’s unnerving.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“It’s obvious you’re mad O’Conor’s flirting with your ex-wife.”

“She’s not—“ König lets out a sigh of defeat and tips his head away from the scope. “She can do whatever she wants. I’m not her keeper.”

“Right, which is why you’re white-knuckling your rifle and giving off the most furious pheromones I've ever felt."

König gives his friend a deadly side eye. “Can I help you?”

“Nah. Just confirming what I already know”, Horangi answers, unbearably smug.

König rolls his eyes and returns to the task at hand.

The two of you avoid each other, mostly.

When you’re forced to interact, it's with stiff professionalism. Cold and distant. The way it was when it was really, really bad.

You spend your time becoming closer to the other operators. O'Conor, for one, is someone you find yourself growing close to. In your line of work, it's usually not a good idea to get too attached to someone who may not see the next day, but it's part of your job to know these people now.

They're so competent that you can ignore the obvious, anyway.

König's always been competent, but watching him work nowadays is strange, like watching a remake of a nostalgic childhood film.

His movements are the same. He flicks his wrist the same way, with a heartbeat's worth of pause before the movement. Him taking cover, leaning with that awful posture you always got on his case about.

But everything about him is more ruthless, more efficient. The unrefined brutality of his youth is replaced with a honed precision that is foreign to you.

It stings, though you know the feeling has no right to exist.

You can't keep yourself from reminiscing about the past, when everything about him was familiar. When you knew him so well, it was enough to save both your lives.

"We've lost comms with König."

Your heart drops into your throat. You've been on several ops with him at this point, but this has never happened before.

"What do you mean you've lost comms?"

"He's not responding."

"What?" Fear grips your heart at everything that implies.

"He's in your building, Eden. Find him and extract. Copy."

You move slowly, like ice is flowing through your veins. "Copy."

You will yourself to calm down. Lost communications doesn't mean anything but lost communications. Panicking that you're going to encounter his body will only ensure you end up as a corpse as well. Besides, who could ever take down a man like that, tall like a giant and quick like a viper as he is?

If you had lost comms, what would you do? Re-establish them, of course. Pick your way out of the building and do everything in your power to reconnect with your team. From where König entered, he'd be exiting the building on the east side. You turn to head that way, then hesitate.

König's not you, though. He's not like any other member of the team. Proud, arrogant, vicious König, far more so than other alphas. You used to be afraid of him while he was at work, but eventually you came to realize that was simply how he was in his element—a different persona he wore to battle. As much as you wished he would be sensible and take the safe route, König would never take the safe route. He'd be carrying on the mission on his own, moving towards the target at the center of the building.

But he's a professional. No matter how good he is at what he does, he's not a one-man army, and he knows the right thing to do would be to extract. It's a gamble. If you head towards the east exit and he's not there, you could be losing precious time to find him. But if you head towards the center, you could be walking right into a fight you can't win and become overwhelmed.

You let out a shaky breath and attempt to calm your mind. What would he do? What is he thinking? If you make the wrong call, if you don't know your lover as well as you think you do, one of you won't be walking out of here. You close your eyes and think.

You open them with newfound determination and turn towards the center of the building.

You'd been right, of course, judging by the fallen enemies you find as you move through the hallways. But you don't allow yourself to feel sure until the moment you lay eyes on him, securing the target—a hard drive containing sensitive information.

"König!" you hiss, just as he whips towards you, gun drawn. He relaxes when he sees it's only you. Despite the fraught situation you're in, you can't help yourself from dashing towards him and burying your face into his chest in a hug.

"Eden," he says, his relief evident.

"You stupid motherfucker," you hiss. "You should have extracted the moment your comms cut out."

His eyes crinkle up behind his mask the way they always do when he smiles. "You knew I wouldn't."

"Yes, because I am burdened with being one of the few people on this earth who knows you like the back of my hand. Atlas holding up the sky," you grumble.

"I know you're relieved to see me," he responds, joy evident in his tone.

You let out a sigh. "Can we just get out of here?"

"Aye-aye, captain."

You could do without those memories, you think whenever the two of you trade clipped exchanges during ops now.

König still has traces of the arrogance of his youth, but it shows through less now. He's wiser, more patient and far less reckless.

You catch yourself admiring how good of a leader he's become. His connection with his teammates is like muscles flexing a hand.

You're no longer a part of that nervous system.

In fact, he's always catching you off guard now.

The energy in the common area is weird today.

You can’t quite put your finger on it. It’s like everyone’s walking on eggshells, but at the same time, nobody’s mood seems to be that affected. It’s like you’re all mice living in someone’s walls: going about business as usual, but with some looming threat casting a pall over everything.

“Is it just me or does the energy on base feel off today?” you ask Calisto.

“Oh. Yeah, that. Don’t worry about it,” she says. She swings open the refrigerator and pulls out coffee creamer. “No need for concern. König’s in rut.”

You do a double take. “He is?”

“Yeah.” She’s casual about it as she dumps cream and sugar into her coffee. “Usually he has a pretty light rut—he just gets testy and irritated. But for some reason this time is bad.” She offers you the cream, but you shake your head. “Don’t know what’s up with him, but he had to barricade himself in his room. His scent is driving people up the wall.”

You stare at the table in front of you. It can’t be a coincidence that König’s rut gets worse as soon as you’re near him again, can it?

When you look up, Horangi is staring at you from across the room. Slowly, he raises his mug to his lips, never once taking his eyes off of you.

You swallow the lump in your throat.

Calisto was right. The scent is overwhelming, but it's also familiar. You can't blame the others for avoiding the area. If you'd never dealt with him in this state before, you'd be hightailing it out of there too. Which is why you're doing this despite...everything.

You hover outside his door, trying to gather yourself, or work up the nerve to knock, or anything. It doesn’t matter in the end, though.

“I can smell you, liebling,” comes his voice, deep and growling and verging on feral. A shiver runs up your spine. You haven’t been called that in a long, long time.

“I only came here to bring you things. Water and…snacks.” you stammer, instantly hating yourself for how weak you sound.

“All these years later…and you still smell the same.” He blows right past your feeble little excuse, not even dignifying it with a response.

“I’m just here to check on you,” you murmur.

“Is that so.” You gasp as you hear a loud thud against the door from the other side. Oh God, it’s him, his body heat almost burning through the wood, pressed so close that you can hear his heaving breaths. “How kind of you.”

“It’s the least I can do, considering…”

“Considering it’s your fault I’m like this in the first place?”

Your legs feel weak. “Yes.”

His voice is silky, dangerous despite the barely restrained lust behind it. “Good girl.”

“That’s not fair,” you whisper.

“That’s a shame. You used to like it when I called you that. Still do, according to my nose.”

You wish he wasn’t right, but he is. You’re so slick that you’re soaking your underwear.

“Do you want the water or not?”

“Are you going to come with it?”

“I—”

“Because I promise you, if you’re still standing there when I open this door, you will get fucked against it.” He sounds like a savage animal snapping his jaws in hunger, and fuck, your body feels hot and weak in response. Every cell in your body is screaming out for you to throw open that door and let him fuck you limp. If you told him to break down the door, you’re sure that he would.

“You can’t say that anymore,” you whisper, hating the words as they leave you.

That seems to bring König back to rationality. You can picture him now on the other side of the door, shoulders slumping as he withdraws back into himself. "I...I'm sorry."

You slide down to sit on the ground with your back to the door, gripping a water bottle in a clenched fist. "It's like no time has passed at all, huh?"

You hear him let out a shaky breath, clearly trying to collect himself and bite back words he can't say. "Yeah."

That's the thing, isn't it? Your biology and his got the two of you into this situation in the first place. Very little of that has changed. Even though you've grown distanced in your minds, your bodies haven't forgotten the connection.

You're still struggling with how to feel about that. So much of your life has been dictated by what your body needs and wants. You've spent just as much time bucking against those needs and wants, so much that it feels like second nature.

"All of this...it takes me back. Do you remember the first night I spent with you during a rut?" you say. For a while you don't think he's heard you, but then he responds.

"How could I forget? It's my most embarrassing memory."

"Still?"

"I swore I would never let something like that happen again."

You giggle a little. "It was cute, for what it's worth." That first time, you'd come prepared with water and food, just like you had tonight, prepared for a long night full of...strenuous exercise. Instead, König had gotten so overwhelmed at his first rut with a partner that he came by just grinding on your leg and immediately fell into a 12-hour sleep.

"Yeah, you've said that. Doesn't make me cringe any less."

"And I'll say it again, it wasn't as bad as you think it is." You idly trace the cap of the water bottle with a fingertip. "There's no shame between us."

Another long pause before he responds. "Was."

A dull, throbbing pain nestles itself below your sternum.

"It...doesn't have to be past tense," you put forth tentatively.

"Doesn't it? We've gone right back to being strangers. You're still on the other side of the door."

You bite your lip. You can't deny that, nor the distance that's grown between the two of you.

This is all happening too fast. You don't know if you want to close the gap. You don't know if you're ready to make amends, after what happened.

"You're in no condition to have this conversation," you say, to distract both him and yourself.

"Conversation with you is hard to come by nowadays."

"Well...let's change that. Starting when your rut's over. Let's try talking like normal people again." This time, you don't know if you can blame your stupid biology for the relief you feel saying that. Maybe this time it's nothing but you and your treacherous heart.

You hear a thump against the door, but not an aggressive one. More like he's leaned his head against it. "I guess we have to start somewhere."

More silence. Then he speaks again, his voice tremulous.

"Can you stay? It's easier when you're here."

You swallow, your mouth gone dry like a desert. You can barely manage your next two words. "Of course."

The rest of the night is quiet, but you know he's there. At one point, you can even hear his steady, even breathing. Somewhere along the way, you notice that your breathing has synced with his.

The two of you fall asleep like that, propped up next to each other with a single layer of wood between you.

I miss you like it was the very first night...

I only revised this once while exhausted out of my fucking mind at 3am, so forgive me if anything's awkward or clunky. I'll probably go through it again in the morning (and die of cringe). But there we go! I hope you guys enjoy. As always, I would love to see your thoughts and comments <3

Regarding my tag lists: I've had to leave out a few people, so if you see your url missing from this, please let me know and I'll add you back. Also, apologies if you're here despite not asking to be tagged for this particular story. I haven't gotten around to sorting out fic-specific taglists yet 🥲

@kneelingshadowsalome @danibee33 @crowbird @poohkie90 @cumikering @iytatsworld @papaver-decervicatus @anxietyrain @cookiepie111 @no1runawaymilkdad @chthonian-spectre @backwards-readings @yxllowtxpe @hexqueensupreme @violetstyless @her-majesty-theking @vegan-peppermint @peonytarian @ghostslittlegf @deaddainish @teehee-47 @catluvwr @keiva1000 @waves-against-a-cliff @channelsoph @cutiecusp @itsagrimm @dins-riduur-anthe @mantishymns @lexuria @complexivelovely @black-moon-bunny @kit-williams @shebibtedmypepnis @mafer383

[vaspider]

Boundary: Boosting Fundraisers

Unfortunately, y'all, the proliferation of spammers and scammers on this website has gotten to the point where trying to sort through them and figure out who is 'legit' would be a full-time job for the volume of asks I get:

I cleaned my inbox out a couple of days ago.

I understand now why a lot of bigger accounts on here simply won't boost fundraisers unless it's someone they've known for a long time, like, an actual factual Real Life friend. I don't want it to get to that point, but I am genuinely drowning in asks that I simply don't have the time to sort through. (Never mind that people following me and then sending me an ask a minute later makes me feel like a utility and not, you know, a person. It comes across as though people feel entitled to ... me. And, look, I'm all for socialism, but my ass ain't publicly-owned.)

If you're not someone who has been following me for a while and if I don't recognize you at least vaguely from my notifications or from just kinda seeing you around, I'm not boosting posts for people anymore.

Yeah, that's nebulous, and I'm sorry, that's the only metric I really have between 'I'll do it for everybody bc I have the time to figure out who's legit' and 'I'll only do it for my Real Life Friends or longtime mutuals.' Yes, it's subjective. That's all I've got, and if this turns into a thing that people give me shit about, I'm gonna have to go more restrictive, because I genuinely don't have the energy to go through multiple hundreds of messages a week and figure out who's legit and who isn't. I really don't, and it's unreasonable to expect me to do so.

How does this square with 'I post all asks'? Well, I guess a) I never said when I'd post them and b) IDK, maybe it doesn't, maybe this has to be my exception before I just close my inbox for a while and sit in a corner feeling shitty over my inability to find a better solution.

I'm having major surgery in just under 60 hours, so if you're feeling some kind of way and want to say something negative about this, kindly go pet a dog and leave me alone. It's a decision I put off making for a long time, but it's one I've got to make.

[python333]

déjà vu — python333

— — — —

synopsis you and ghost are more similar than the two of you realized.

relationships platonic!ghost & gn!reader.

characters ghost.

word count 2.88k

warnings 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [call sign/code name], ghost's backstory [yes that is a warning within itself], kind of badly written.

note holy shitttttt i'm so sorry i haven't posted in two months. to everyone who is disappointed this isn't a req they submitted—i am very sorry but i have like. no motivation. please take this small fic as a peace offering after being silent for two months. also yes i said alej fic but i only had motivation to write for ghost LMAO

“So…” Ghost can hear Price next to him, creating an echo as he speaks through his earpiece, “Doesn’t it get hot, always wearing that mask?” 

“Not when it’s made of the right materials,” Your voice crackles through, the wind blowing by slightly distorting your voice, “It’s also winter, captain, so no, it doesn’t get hot.” 

The corners of Ghost’s lips twitch upwards when you answer, but he otherwise doesn’t say or do anything, simply leaning against the wall parallel to Price. For you, maybe your mask doesn’t get hot, but his certainly does—though, he doesn’t voice that, simply listening. 

“Oh really?” Price hums, looking around the corner of the wall he’s leaned up against, spotting a few enemy soldiers walking by without a clue of who they’re in the presence of, “What’s yours made of, then?” 

“Polyester,” You answer. 

From what Ghost understands, you wear a mask for the same reason as him—anonymity. As much as he can respect that and understand the want to remain anonymous, he can’t help but wonder why you would want that. Is it for reasons similar to why he wears his? Have you gone through things similar to what he’s gone through? Did a fellow SAS soldier also murder your entire family and attempt to pin it on you, to which you responded by killing him, stealing his dog tags, and burning your own house down? He had many questions, but didn’t ask any. 

He doesn’t think you’d answer them, anyway. He certainly wouldn’t. He’d maybe try to divert the conversation with a bad dad joke, or simply not dignify the question with a response, anything but an actual answer. He strangely expects the same of you. 

He vaguely remembers a conversation he had with Price when you first joined maybe two months ago, specifically a comment Price had made about your file; “I had the same conversation with Laswell about their file that I did when I first got yours. She said the same thing when she saw their file, too, word for word.”

It turned out that they had the exact same exchange that they did when they saw Ghost’s file, verbatim. Laswell had pointed out that you had no picture, and Price said, “Never.” Ever since then, Ghost has felt an inexplicable connection to you, despite not having talked to you that much. 

He’ll admit, he tried to initiate a conversation with you more often than he did with the others when he first met them. Maybe one or two times a day, he’d find you and make small talk, something that made his skin crawl with discomfort but something he still forced himself to do, just to try and make sense of the invisible line that seemed to tie you both together. 

This small talk started off as anything from a question about the weather—yes, Ghost asked about the weather, unfortunately for the both of you considering how awkward and stilted that short conversation was—to asking about training and skills. He didn’t normally initiate conversations with anyone else, he was typically the one that was walked up to and barely even had to carry any conversations he was in. 

Every conversation the two of you had always ended the same way, though; with you cutting it short the moment it got anywhere near your personal life, or even just your life outside of being a part of the 141, and walking off elsewhere. Ghost could see the tiniest bit of himself in you everytime you did that, and an annoying voice in the back of his mind always asked, Was I always that much of a hardass? … Am I that much of a hardass?

“Ghost,” Price’s voice snaps Ghost out of his train of thought and he grunts, looking over at Price. The man in question nods his head towards the now clear path to the building they needed to get into, and Ghost nodded back, taking his SMG out of the sling and moving out of the small alleyway they’d camped in, following after Price. 

They quickly rush over to the building, the doors thankfully unlocked and the soldiers guarding it stupid enough to not be right beside the front doors, and lock the doors behind them once they’re in. 

“Are you guys in?” You ask, the wind no longer distorting your voice, the background of your audio now relatively silent except for your faint breathing. 

“Yeah,” Price replies, the darkness of the building making him squint as he scans the walls for some sort of light switch, “Anyone notice we got in?”

“Not that I can see, no,” You answer, your sigh audible through the comms, “They’re pretty far from the building, actually.” 

“Perfect,” Price hums, patting his hand along the wall for a moment before finding a large lever. He hesitates to pull it, and ultimately decides against it, deeming it too risky. Instead, he searches his tactical vest and goes through a few large pockets that sit around his lower midriff before finding a relatively small flashlight. 

He presses the button on the end of the handle with a small click, and the flashlight flickers for a moment before the light becomes consistent and a small buzz begins to sound. Price looks around for a second, scanning the area for any immediate threats, and motions for Ghost to follow him. 

“See anything?” You ask curiously, some rustling heard on your end. Ghost looks around for a second, footsteps echoing eerily through the building. 

“Nothing important,” He replies, voice quiet, “Just dust and old furniture.” 

“His office is just down there,” Price interjects, nodding towards the hall to their left, making Ghost look in that same direction, “I’ll head down there, you stay here, let me know if anyone’s coming.” 

The echo from Price talking to Ghost both through comms and being right beside him, as well as the echo from being in such a large room, starts to irritate Ghost. He rolls his shoulders and puts his gun back in the sling, looking back at Price.

“Turn off your comms,” His suggestion sounds more like a command, but he’s sure Price understands it’s more of a request than anything else, “You’re echoing. If anything happens, I can just talk to you without them.” 

Price pauses before nodding, and pressing the small button on his earpiece to turn off his mic, and the piece entirely. He trusts Ghost wholeheartedly, and it shows. He takes one last look around before walking towards the office he pointed out. 

The office belonged to the man who had stolen vital intel from the 141—not intelligence on the task force itself, but rather a separate team that had recently allied themselves with the task force. They couldn’t risk that data being taken, as it would not only expose the other team, but several other similar teams and task forces. 

Ghost waits until Price is actually in the hall before speaking again, “You still there, [c/n]?” 

“Yeah,” You answer almost immediately, “Need something?” 

“No,” Ghost hums, leaning against the wall behind him, “Just wanted to talk.” 

“Please don’t ask me about the weather again,” You sigh, almost exasperated, “Or about how my training is going, or about how my CO is, or—” 

“I’m not,” Ghost interrupts you, not sure whether to laugh or cry at your examples of past conversations. 

“Promise?” 

“Promise,” He says, before asking, “How long were you apart of the army, before joining here?” 

“Before the 141?” You pause, thinking for a moment, “Sounds kind of personal.” 

“You don’t have to answer,” Ghost offers, voice almost reassuring, “Just curious.” 

“Aren’t you always,” You mutter, a comment Ghost promptly ignores, before you properly answer, “Just a year. Maybe a year and a half.” 

“American army, right?”

“Mhm,” You hum, “Would you believe me if I said we sang Yankee Doodle before going on any missions?”

“Oh, sure I would,” Ghost chuckles, before countering, “Would you believe me if I said that song was made to mock Americans?” 

“I’m not sure if I should be offended that you believe that,” You say, a lighter lilt to your voice as you do compared to a few moments ago, “But yes, I believe you. I think that almost every American has reclaimed it as one of the most patriotic songs, though.” 

“Almost every American?” Ghost questions, growing more amused as the conversation goes on. It confuses him, making him wonder why he’s so easily drawn into conversations with you, no matter how small or dry. 

“I’m sure there’s some here and there that don’t like it,” You elaborate, “But I haven’t met any. Not yet.” 

“Alright,” Ghost nods even though you can’t see him, before asking another question, “What branch?” 

“The Navy,” You answer, now without questioning Ghost which brings him a strange sense of relief, “I flew planes around and stuff. Didn’t really like it, though.” 

“Oh yeah?” Ghost sounds more interested now, “Why not?” 

“The soldiers there aren’t the best people to be around,” You hum, the sounds of you moving audible, “One mention of any sort of mental issues, even if it’s just something like feeling anxious or being sleep deprived, and suddenly everyone’s on your ass pressuring you to be better or just… being weird about it. It gets draining after a while.” 

“I bet,” Ghost murmurs, “Is that why you left?” 

“Partially,” You answer honestly, “Half of it was that, the other half was that I just didn’t like flying planes. I was also eighteen and couldn’t really control my impulsive thoughts, so a majority of the time I was fighting myself trying not to crash the plane on purpose.” 

“Makes sense,” Ghost considers what you said for a moment, before his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and he asks, “Isn’t the enlistment age for the Navy nineteen?” 

“It is,” You assure him, “I was an exception, ‘cause I was a month or two away from turning nineteen.” 

“Hm,” Ghost hums, “And you’re twenty now?” 

“Twenty, almost twenty-one,” You confirm. 

“Did you wear the mask back then?” Ghost asks, praying that the question isn’t too personal to the point where you stop responding. He’s been dying to ask the question, always worrying whether or not it was too personal—it was pretty personal, to be fair, but he wasn’t used to worrying this much over another soldier, much less one he only met two months ago. Sure, you both wore a mask and remained somewhat anonymous, but that didn’t mean you two were automatically best friends who braided each other’s hair. 

“...” You don’t respond for a moment, making Ghost’s worry increase, before you reply, “No.”

Your simple answer makes Ghost more curious, and he can’t tell if he should ask why or not. He stays silent for a few seconds, weighing his options, before he ultimately says, “Alright.” 

He tries to leave it up to you whether or not you want to tell him about your own story, of if you’re comfortable with that, which you probably aren’t, considering that—again—the two of you only met a couple months ago.

“Did you wear the mask?” You ask quietly a moment later, catching Ghost off-guard, “Before this?” 

“Before the 141?” He echoes your question from earlier, nodding to himself, “Yeah. For some time before this, I had a different mask, but it was still a mask.” 

“Was the skull always there?” 

“Mhm.” 

“… For just aesthetic purposes, or?” Ghost feels the corners of his lips tug up in amusement at your question, and at how genuinely curious you sound. 

“Eh. Not really,” He answers, taking a deep breath in and out through his nose. He doesn’t say any more than that, not being able to as his mind takes him back to a time a while ago, when he was being held hostage and was in the same room as some kids who heard him spill his entire background to the men holding him hostage. 

He remembers one kid in particular, a little girl with blonde hair, who had listened to every detail that he’d said. When he was telling the story of why he has the call sign Ghost, in hopes of distracting the men so that the 141 could rescue him and the kids, she had clung to every detail and later asked him if what he had said was true, her tone of voice eerily similar to yours. 

He remembers when he was carrying her out of that room, the questions she’d bombarded him with, and how he answered every one with as neutral of an answer he could muster. He debates doing that now with any questions you ask, but decides against it almost instantly—something that shocks him, even though it was his own thought—considering that he wanted to ask you those same questions. Not about your call sign, only about the mask. 

“It’s a long story,” He says after you’ve been silent for a while, your curiosity somehow palpable even through just the comms, “But it has to do with some family members.” 

“Yeah?” You hum, “I know a thing or two about that.” 

“Do you?” Ghost asks, slightly ashamed at the small jolt of excitement he feels at the opportunity of hearing more about you. 

“Mhm,” You pause, staying quiet for a moment, before continuing, “About family members. Dead ones.” 

“Ah,” Ghost nods, the discomfort he originally felt sharing some of his own story starting to melt away, “Dead ones. I understand.” 

“Can’t tell if I should be glad or not,” You snort, “Like, I’m glad you understand, but also sorry.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Ghost grins under his mask, “I was wondering the same thing.” 

“So… dead ones,” You think out loud, before asking, “That’s why you have that call sign and mask?” 

“Yeah,” Ghost looks around for a moment, reminding himself to keep watch while talking to you, before cautiously asking, “Are yours the reason for your mask?” 

“Not really,” You answer honestly, with a little less resistance behind your answer to Ghost’s relief, “Well… I mean, kind of. But they’re not the reason-reason. I didn’t really like them, so I’m not gonna give them all the credit, but I’ll give them… maybe twenty-five percent of it.” 

“A quarter’s still a lot,” Ghost points out, “What’d they do to earn that?” 

“They died, and…” You’re doing more pausing and hesitating now, making Ghost wonder if he’s going to personal every second that you stay quiet, before you finally answer in a more guarded tone, “I almost got blamed for it. Almost.” 

Ghost gets hit with a pang of mixed emotions, like a weird sort of uncomfortable nostalgia. They almost got blamed for it. He lets out a breath that’s slightly shaky, and thinks for a moment before saying, “Almost?” 

“Almost,” You confirm, tone a little less guarded, presumably at Ghost’s more calm reaction, “Then I handled it the best I could, and the guy who killed them got what he deserved.” 

“Which was?” Ghost feels more of that uncomfortable nostalgia bubble up, giving him an uneasy feeling in his gut, as if he knows where this conversation is going. 

“Death,” You answer softly, “And the nameplate on his uniform stolen, which I replaced with mine. I would’ve taken his dog tags, but we didn’t really wear them on missions ‘cause our drill sergeant didn’t care too much.” 

Ghost can put a name to the feeling now. Déjà vu. He takes a deep breath and considers your words for a moment. 

“And the body?” His lips move before he can think. 

“Burnt.” You answer simply, “The whole house. It was mainly drywall, so it took a moment to actually completely catch on fire, but it was quick enough. It also smelled disgusting.” 

“Yeah, I bet,” Ghost swallows, vividly remembering the smell of his own house, before continuing, “He was a soldier for the Navy, too?” 

“Mhm. He was… a Private, I think,” You reply, “I wasn’t too close with him. I wasn’t with anyone.” 

“And so the reason you wear the mask is…?” 

“I didn’t really exist anymore after that,” You hum, “At least, not to them. I was dead in a burned down house, my own house, and was far gone. I like wearing the mask; it keeps me as just another soldier, not as the person who died in that house.” 

“But you didn’t,” Ghost points out, trying to ignore the eerie feeling that only grows stronger the more you talk, “You’re here.” 

“… Yeah, I am,” You say after a moment of thinking, smile evident in your voice, “Doesn’t mean I can take that back, though. ‘s not the best feeling, doing something like that.” 

“Trust me, I know,” Ghost chuckles, “If anyone here, I’d be the person to know, kid.” 

“Really?” You ask, voice more curious like it was before, “Why’s that?” 

“I’ve… weirdly been through almost everything you said,” Ghost admits, “Word for word with the house burning down, actually.” 

“… Huh,” You huff out a small laugh before saying, “I’m wondering if I should feel happy or sad again.” 

“Me too, again,” Ghost smiles, eyes flickering up at Price’s footsteps sound through the hallway, his silhouette slowly coming into view, “One last question.” 

“Shoot.” 

“How’s the weather?” 

“I’m not answering that, fuck you.”

[fleshwerks]

Ugh, there's no end to it. Sorry, followers. ADHD hyperfixation says, and it won't stop until it's late at night and I'm crawling into bed, brain-tired, asking myself 'what the hell was the point of all that, Mari?' This time, we set our iron sights on Rook.

Relying on my reblogged post about pope Leliana, here's another problem. I think they kind of wanted another Hawke, but also wanted a blank slate. The Inquisitor received shrapnel for being 'bland', but you could still pretty effectively roleplay personality onto them with with the admittedly meagre dialogue options. The problem with Rook is that thy're ne ryba ne myaso. They're not a stand-alone character with existing personality + a lot of intense player-induced flavour. But they're not a complete blank slate with some vague history that leaves a lot up to the headcanon, either. Rook's just three flavours of friendly: nice-polite, nice-jokey, nice-stern. Rook is just... nice. Not burdened heavily by past connections of family and personal experiences, but not a complete blank slate like the Inquisitor, either. You can't really project onto Rook because there's just enough there for them to be a character separate from what you've largely personally created, but they're not interesting enough as a separate person for you to mould them to your vision. Some argue that the 'asshole option' and wanting it to be there just means that you, the player are an asshole and you want to be an asshole, and that means you're a bad person. But how about when you want your Rook to be nice, but have a breaking point? Where Rook's patience runs out and they just fucking snap? , but not too stern. It'd be nice to have an option to do that. And from what I gather from what I saw, the option simply isn't there for the most part.

Rook is built to be accommodating. Sacrificing existing personality and player-made personality for the sake of catering to solving the problems your companions.

It's a roleplaying game in name only. And you can do that thing well. Pathologic 2 does it well, it has a lot of flavour, though it doesn't affect the outcome. But the flavour matters. You can have a very distinct personality without it causing problems for the writers who have a certain story and outcome in mind. It starts to come across like Bioware's writers were either hamstrung by an inexperienced lead and/or financiers, or it's a crew comprised entirely of inexperienced people who don't know how to do good game writing, or the problem is someone who is experienced, but has a strong but incompetent vision, and is simply not willing to compromise. Still, one has to wonder what the brief by the investors was. Because right now it sounds like the brief was: "Offend no one. We need to cast a wide net and make some fucking moneeeey."

Looks like the fans are once more saddled with having to make their headcanon entirely from scratch, but this time with no support whatsoever from the in-game dialogue wheel. Which... honestly? It's my jam, when I'm not playing. But when I'm playing, I want to either play someone with established personality, or a total blank slate with plenty of room to build character in-game and support my headcanon that way. Not someone who's completely shackled somewhere in the middle, too afraid of saying anything wrong and thus reducing themselves to a single trait: "nice."

Where's Vivienne rearranging your castle furniture just to provoke you because she thinks you're a troglodyte who doesn't know their arsehole from their mouth based on your increasingly hostile interactions (if you go down that path. Her positive path is very rewarding).

Disclaimer: I could get the game and sit with Rook for several playthroughs, but I said it before and I say it again: a good game gives you most everything on the first playthrough. A poor game relies on subsequent playthroughs and a shitton of legwork by the player's own imagination to wring meaning out of this cold piece of smooth and featureless rock.

[freesia-writes]

Ch 20: Keytoll

~ Master List ~ Previous Chapter ~ WC: 2.6k

Author's Note -- I couldn't resist publishing this a lil early... I'm excited for the next few chapters!!

.

“Hunter!” Lyra burst through his shop door. “Hunter?” she peered around the counter, stepping back in surprise as he appeared from the back. “Hey! Sorry... Um… Listen, I have to go. Urgently. There’s an old friend of mine that I’ve been trying to find for years, and she just contacted me and is trying to find a safe place to disappear. I’m taking the next shuttle to Keytoll to meet her.”

“Alright,” Hunter said slowly. His brow furrowed. “Though last I heard, Keytoll is a fairly popular outpost for the Empire… Not exactly a good idea…”

“I have no choice,” she said, with a fervence that hinted at a much greater depth. 

“You trust this person?”

“I’d give my life for her in a heartbeat.”

“Wow. That’s big talk for you.”

“I mean it.” Her earnestness was compelling, and Hunter nodded slowly, eyes darting from her to the ground as he considered the options. 

“You gonna be safe?”

“I mean… I’ll do my best,” she said with a helpless shrug. “I’ve gotten this far.”

“Want some backup?”

“What?” She looked up at him quizzically.

“Want… Some help? A second pair of eyes? Extra protection?” He was offering it as vaguely as possible, but realized with each passing word how much he wanted her to ask him to come along.

“I don’t want to ask you to do that,” she said, averting her own eyes now. “This is my own issue, not your burden.”

“I know,” he nodded, untying his apron with a calm intentionality now. “But if you’ll have me, I’m coming.”

“Okay… Um, thanks. That really means a lot. But at any point if you change your mind, it’s okay…” She shifted anxiously from foot to foot, still nervously staring at the floor. 

“I’ll meet you at the station,” he confirmed with a nod, reaching out to grasp her hand as she turned to flit back out the door. They exchanged a meaningful glance, and he squeezed her hand before releasing it and watching her leave.

* * * 

The off-world transport was a clunky old thing that seemed to be under maintenance more often than it was actually running. It had a few routes to nearby systems, where travelers could catch a ride to more popular destinations, and Keytoll was a backwater planet in the Outer Rim that, aside from being a transportation hub, didn’t have much going for it. It was decently populated in its capital city, which shared a name with the planet, but the rest of it was dusty wasteland. The city was full of tall clay buildings that rose in slightly rounded squares and rectangles from the center outward. 

Hunter had put together a bit of a disguise, a fabric wrap concealing his head and face except for his eyes and a thick, dusty cloak hanging from his shoulders. He wanted to be extremely forgettable, and in the arid climate of Keytoll, he’d look just like anyone else. Lyra already wore neutral, simple clothing, but he was surprised to see that she’d gone to great lengths to braid her hair up around her head so its length was impossible to tell, and the dramatic makeup on her face was definitely a contrast from the usual. Her eyes were framed by bold swipes of black that curved up at the ends and her eyelids were brushed with smoky dark gray. The gentle shape of her lips was made to look much fuller with liner and a splash of deep red. Everything about her features was not only accentuated but changed, and he was impressed with just how much she looked like an entirely different person by taking a completely opposite approach than he had.

She took his arm as they boarded the shuttle, the look in her eyes intense and difficult to read. They sat in the back where they could see everyone getting on, and he could feel anticipation coursing through her veins. 

“You… uh… You look…” he began, but she rolled her eyes in exasperation.

“Like an underworld performer, I know.”

“Well, I mean…” he paused, deciding between two responses. “You’re the one who said it.”

She laughed, relaxing a tiny bit, and stole a glance at him before returning to her vigilant scan of the other passengers. “How did you know what they wear there? This is impressively accurate.” She gave the cloak a little tug, unable to resist one last lingering look at his hawkish eyes. 

“Tech,” he said simply.

“Ah. Handy.”

“So do you want to tell me a little more about what we’re getting into?” he asked, his voice a little constricted. They’d both been so slow to open up to one another, but the way they’d nestled into each other’s lives and hearts was undeniable. He still wanted to respect her privacy, but this was a notably different sort of activity for her, and his curiosity was getting the better of him. And, more importantly, any mission needed solid intel and strategy to be successful. The ship’s engines came online, shuddering into motion as the boarding ramp folded up and the takeoff announcement began to play. 

“Breslin is… a dear friend. Family, really. We got separated when we left Coruscant, and I was afraid she was dead from the way she just disappeared and never responded to my communication. She… um… worked with me on Coruscant, and I think she was feeling the same need for a change of pace when she left. But we’d talked about going somewhere together, and then she just… vanished.”

Hunter shifted in his seat, wildly uncomfortable with so many factors to consider. “So she suddenly found you again, now?”

“Yes, and her note was short, but it just sounded like she needed some help.”

Silence sat heavy between them for a while, Hunter feeling torn between so many courses of action. He hated going into a situation without his squad and some idea of what lay ahead, but it seemed like a relatively harmless sort of escapade, all things considered. There was a strong sense of protectiveness around Lyra, but he also had a deep desire to keep Xylo as unnoticed as possible, and each new person that learned of its existence was a potential threat to its safety and anonymity. 

“You really don’t have to do this,” Lyra repeated, her nerves apparent in every movement. 

“I know,” he assured, reaching over to take her hand in his. “It’s fine. It’s been a while since I’ve seen any action. Might be good for me.” He didn’t believe a word of what he said.

“Old habits die hard, eh?” she attempted, referring to what he’d shared about his time as a mercenary of sorts. 

“Something like that.”

When they arrived in Keytoll, they made their way through the city, keeping their heads down and appearing as inconspicuous as possible. The city was bustling with activity, species of every kind shoving their way through narrow streets and kicking up dust as they went. It was just after dinnertime, so the restaurants were releasing full and happy patrons to find their way home for the night, and Hunter kept his hand on the blaster at his side, sharp eyes scanning constantly. They arrived at their destination: a very old-looking hotel on one of the edges of a small courtyard, and after a brief check-in under a fake name, Lyra opened the door to their rented quarters for the evening. 

It was a surprisingly comfortable and clean-looking room compared to the rest of the hotel and the dilapidated buildings around it. There was a very basic kitchenette, a table with two chairs, a couple of windows facing different directions in the corner, a tiny couch facing a holoscreen, and, tucked in the back near the door to the refresher, a fairly large bed. Each lost in thought about certain aspects of their accommodation, they pushed their suitcases off to the side and locked the door, ambling about the room aimlessly after shedding most of their disguises.

“I’ll sleep on the couch,” Lyra said abruptly, fidgeting with her purse strap as she did when nervous. 

“Maybe half of you will,” Hunter chuckled, sitting on one side of it to demonstrate just how small it was. “We’ll figure it out.”

A pause. 

“So what’s the plan with the friend?” he continued. 

“She’s meeting us tomorrow morning. The shuttle schedules didn’t really line up so this was the best we could do. Then she’ll come back with us on the afternoon departure.”

“Sounds simple enough,” he nodded. “Where’s the meeting?”

“She said she’d send her hotel coordinates when she arrives and we can figure out a place in the middle, or just meet back at the station. Whichever is safest.”

“Mmkay.” He stretched, sidling up to the windows in the corner to scope out the surroundings. “So, until then…”

“We eat!” Lyra snickered, rummaging in her back for the few ingredients she’d brought for a simple pasta dinner. “I figured it would be better than going out…”

Hunter grinned, shaking his head fondly as she also produced a bottle of wine and began digging in the cupboards for anything to put it in. Two plastic cups and a little while later, they were nestled on the tiny couch while pasta sauce simmered on the stove. 

“What do you miss most about your action days?” Lyra asked, absently swirling the red liquid in her small cup. A sigh escaped Hunter’s lips as memories sprang to mind indiscriminately, each one demanding attention as much as the rest. But they all seemed gray… heavy… so much pain and loss that had gotten him to where he was now. “Sorry, maybe that’s not fun to talk about right now,” Lyra added sheepishly.

“No, there’s just… a lot,” he began. “I mean, not a lot that I miss. But some of it, I suppose. It was fairly cut and dry… Here’s the job, you take it, you do it. Then you wait around until the next one.”

“Sounds pretty monotonous.”

“Heh. I mean, if every mission being a different objective with a risk to your life in a new way is monotonous, then sure.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to downplay the dangers,” she corrected quickly. “I just mean… there’s not a lot of freedom for you to choose your own path? Although I guess you could at any point, since the jobs are all on an individual basis.”

“Yeah… But we were kinda in a groove for a while. And,” he hesitated, considering the similar conversation he’d had with Omega months ago. “It’s a little simpler because you have one straightforward purpose. Now… I don’t know. I sometimes feel like I’m living a lie.”

Lyra’s heart rate picked up noticeably, and she tilted to be able to face him more fully. “How so?”

“So much of my life was constant chaos, I never had much time to sit around and make my own choices. All this stuff, as wonderful as it is,” he noted, lightly stroking the back of her arm, “just feels… Too simple. Like it’s all going to fall to pieces somehow. And I’ll have been too distracted by all the fluff to have seen it coming or be able to prevent it.”

“I mean…” She struggled to find the right words. “What’s the alternative? Bounty hunting for the rest of your life? You’d always have to be looking over your shoulder.”

“Yeah,” he conceded. “Maybe I’m just too… whatever… to believe that it could really be this pleasant. 

“Should I try to make it less pleasant?” she asked, her attempt at humor slightly hampered by her strong undercurrent of discomfort at his words. 

“And how would you go about that?” he challenged, mildly amused.

“We could always get that girl to come and beat you up again.”

“Cheap shot,” he grumbled, elbowing her gently in the side as she chuckled, relaxing a bit more into her normal self. “Although I do think I need to exercise more,” he continued, “because my pants are getting a little too tight with all your delicious cooking.”

“We can start hiking up the mountain instead of cuddling on the couch all the time,” she suggested. 

“That sounds terrible.”

“It really does.”

It was far later than usual when they finally sat down for dinner, the cozy details of their homes notably missing from the generic layout of the hotel room. They ate rather quickly around some halting conversation then wordlessly began getting ready for bed. After locking herself in the refresher for a while, Lyra emerged, having cleaned off all her makeup and loosened her hair back into a braid down the middle of her shoulder blades. She had a thin robe wrapped around herself, the hems of pajama pants poking out the bottom, and Hunter felt a wave of affection at the sight.

He’d brushed his teeth and washed his face in the kitchen sink, quickly changing into soft black pants and a long-sleeved henley while she was in the refresher, and his hair fell in loose waves around his face. Lyra busied herself by plugging in her commlink on the nightstand next to the bed, then, with nothing left to do, they stared at each other for a few moments, each fidgeting slightly while waiting for the other to talk. 

“The bed is pretty big,” she observed, keeping her face carefully neutral. Hunter nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“I don’t think anyone should sleep on that couch,” he added. 

Moving as they spoke, they found themselves each on a side of the bed, pulling the covers back tentatively before climbing in. Lyra paused to remove her robe, revealing a ridiculously endearing pajama set with long pants, a loose button-up top, and a dainty floral pattern. Hunter hid a smile, laying on his back and staring at the ceiling, and Lyra did the same for a few minutes before finally rolling on her side to face him. 

“I mean… We’ve slept on the couch before… Why does this feel so different?” she confessed, and he noticed the flush on her cheeks and the way she tucked her hands protectively in front of her chest. 

“It doesn’t have to be,” he offered, lifting an arm to invite her in, trying hard to appear breezy despite his own pounding pulse and the intoxication of his senses from all that the situation entailed. She hesitated for a moment, subtly biting her lip before slowly scooting across the bed to tuck herself against his side, nestling her head into the soft crook of his shoulder and resting a hand on his chest. His arm held her gently, other hand laying atop hers, and he sighed in deep contentment. 

“I’m really glad you’re here,” she murmured, nuzzling a little closer to his neck and sending a little shiver down his spine. He hummed his agreement, trying to focus on anything but the softness of her body pressed along his and the calm affection that radiated from her hand where it lay over his heart. 

* * * 

Early in the morning, the quiet buzzing of the commlink woke Lyra with a start, and she rolled over to look at it, casting a quick glance back at Hunter’s sleeping form. His shirt was twisted, pulled tight against the curve of his side as it rose and fell steadily. She rubbed her eyes, trying to focus on the words on the screen, then got up and snuck into the refresher, emerging a few minutes later fully dressed.

She tiptoed over to Hunter’s side of the bed, unable to resist brushing a tendril of hair from his face, and she bent down slowly, caressing the side of his cheek as he remained unmoving. Indescribable depths of emotion swirled in her eyes as she gazed at his features, leaning in to press one last kiss to his temple. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, closing her eyes in a singular, poignant moment of regret before tearing herself away and slipping out the door.

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Song: “Someone You Loved” by Lewis Capaldi

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