#which I have been telling her for the last week she needs to do

[novacorpsrecruit]

“She’s Cheating On You”

Gen | WC 1,234 | tw: perceived romantic Stobin (fake dating), misunderstanding

Eddie wasn’t sure why he was happy.

He should be upset for Steve. Mad. Angry.

He shouldn’t be buzzing with anticipation, waiting for the perfect moment to spill the beans.

It’s just that since Steve and Robin started dating, he couldn’t stand being around them. He knew they were close, but they promised they weren’t like that. They weren’t supposed to be like that. Except a few weeks ago, they surprised the party at a movie night, hands intertwined as they announced they were going steady.

And Eddie should’ve been happy for Steve.

Except that broke his heart.

He wasn’t sure why. Steve was out of his league, batting for the other team. There was no way he would go for someone like Eddie. So Eddie tried to push him towards Nancy. Nancy was the type of girl Steve was supposed to like. Because if he likes someone like Robin —

That meant he could’ve liked someone like Eddie.

If only he was a girl, right?

So maybe Eddie distanced himself from the couple. Not wanting to see them so sugary-sweet and couple-like. Eddie felt sick to his stomach thinking of them kissing. He avoided family video unless he saw Keith’s car parked outside. He tried to make conversations brief, afraid that his jealousy and heartbreak would show.

But he still couldn’t say no to Steve.

Steve had cornered him after Hellfire, all but demanding a movie night of their own. Steve even said they could watch Evil Dead like Eddie’s been begging for months. It should feel like a victory, but Eddie’s stomach felt like stone. He remembered asking, “is Robin coming?”

“Nah,” Steve shrugged. “Girls night. Figured it could be just us.”

Eddie nodded. There was promise of pizza and beer as long as Eddie picked up the tape.

So maybe Eddie went out to Indy the night before. Hoping he could find someone to ease the pain before he spent the following day with Steve. But that’s where he saw her.

Robin and this girl — a short redhead — dancing in the back of the club. Robin tilting her chin up ever so gently to capture her lips in a kiss.

And Eddie felt the world slow to a stop.

Robin was cheating on Steve.

And Eddie couldn’t have felt happier.

Which also made him feel like a huge asshole.

His best friend, a full romantic, was cheated on by his soul mate. Eddie should be upset. He should go and break the girls up. Tell Robin that she should be thinking of Steve, and not in this gay bar. That she’s going to break his heart.

But Eddie will be there to pick up the pieces.

Eddie left, no longer interested in finding someone. He needed to find a way to tell Steve.

He ran through the scenarios, trying to imagine how Steve would react to the news. Would he break down and cry? Would he get angry and yell? Would he look at Eddie, tears in his eyes and admit his love for him?

How would Eddie try to comfort him? Tell him that Robin’s no good for him? That he deserved better? That Eddie could be better for him?

How would Eddie even break the news? Would he start all soft, taking Steve’s hands in his like he’s telling him that his grandma passed in her sleep? Would he tell him that he’s heard from a friend or that he saw with his own eyes? Would he just rip the bandaid off?

No. Steve deserved gentle. He couldn’t just blurt it out —

“Okay, what gives?” Steve said, reaching for the remote and pausing the movie. “You’ve been antsy all night.”

“She’s cheating on you,” Eddie blurted out. “Robin. She’s — uh — cheating on you.”

Steve sunk back into the couch, a furrow in his brow. “What?”

“She’s a lesbian,” Eddie said. “I saw her last night at this gay bar in Indy with this girl and I — uh — she kissed her.”

Steve’s face softened into something sad. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said softly. “I’m sorry.”

“What —“ Steve started, his brow wrinkled as he tried to process his heartbreak. “What were you doing there? At the bar?”

“Oh — uh —“ Eddie frowned, as he tried to process Steve’s question. He thought Steve knew he was gay. Did he assume that Steve would be okay with that? “I — uh — I’m gay.”

“Yeah,” Steve said, pulling a knee up and towards his chest. “I — uh — know that. But you were there?”

Eddie nodded. “And saw her there.”

“Did you — did you stay long?” Steve asked.

“No, I left after I saw her,” Eddie said. “I was trying to figure out how to tell you.”

“You didn’t talk to anyone?”

Eddie wished he could read the expression on Steve’s face. Wish he had whatever weird telepath connection him and Robin has — had. He wished he could peer into his brain and figure out his thinking. “No.”

Steve nodded silently, lips pressed together.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie repeated. “About Robin.”

“What?” Steve asked, like he forgot about how they got to the gay bar in the first place.

“I’m sorry that Robin’s cheating on you,” Eddie said. “That’s a shitty thing to do.”

Steve shrugged, picking up the remote and pressing play. “I told her she could.”

Eddie felt his brain break. “What?”

“I told her that she could,” Steve repeated plainly. Eddie reached for the remote and paused the movie.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m her beard,” Steve said. “Well, I guess we’re both each others’ beards.”

“You have to be queer to have a beard,” Eddie said slowly.

“Yeah,” Steve said.

Eddie leaned back into the couch and processed this information. Steve and Robin are beards. Steve is single. Steve is queer. Steve is queer. “You’re single?” Steve nodded. “You’re into guys?”

“Specifically one guy in particular —“ Eddie felt his heart drop. “—but he keeps trying to bring up my fake girlfriend while we’re on a date.”

“On a date?” Eddie nearly shouted. Steve let out a laugh. “Oh my god —“

It made sense. The way Steve looked nervous when he talked to him about the movie night. The way Steve’s body was pressed against his, his arm thrown lazily over his shoulder. The way Steve looked disappointed when Eddie said he went to the gay bar last night.

“Oh my god,” Eddie repeated. “I went to the bar to get over you. I thought you weren’t into me.”

“Totally into you,” Steve grinned. “Even after you kept trying to push me towards Nance.”

“Oh,” Eddie said sheepishly. “Sorry about that.”

“Between you and the kids, always pushing one of us to date,” Steve said. “We kinda got sick of it. So we decided to fake date. Just — uh — didn’t think you’d push us away after that.”

“I was jealous,” Eddie admitted.

“That’s what Robin thought,” Steve said, shifting in his spot. “She said that maybe I needed to be more forward.”

“More forward,” Eddie repeated softly

“Yeah,” Steve said, a smirk on his face. “Maybe like this —“ he leaned into Eddie’s space, capturing his lips in a soft kiss. When he pulled back, Eddie felt like Steve took his oxygen with him.

“I’m happy Robin’s cheating on you,” Eddie admitted. Steve grinned.

“Me too.”

[inkedbybarnes]

none of it was fake

bucky barnes x avenger!fem!reader

summary: you've been undercover with bucky as husband and wife. upon returning, he seems to have forgotten that it was all pretend.

word count: 1.6k+

warnings: two idiots cluelessly pining for each other. fluff. usage of petnames such as sweetheart, doll, and baby. lowercase writing.

note: hi, babies. how's everyone? this is my first fic in ages, so sorry if it's not my best one. i just wanted something cute ++ this is unedited & not proofread, might fix it laterrr. still hope you'll enjoy this one! xo

dividers made by @firefly-graphics!

comments, reblogs, and likes are highly appreciated. thank you! ♡

“i can't believe your first kiss happened during a mission. an undercover mission!

wanda huffed, still hung up on the mission you had with bucky weeks ago wherein you had to play pretend as a married couple. there had been a kiss or two during that time, and it felt impossible not to tell your best friend about it when you had been crushing over the soldier for ages.

wanda knew what you felt towards bucky. in fact, she was the only one who knew, or at least the one you shared th information with, and she made sure to ask everything about the mission, even if it took days for her to interrogate you.

“excuse me? that was not my first kiss,” you said defensively, reaching for a cup from the cupboard that you had just opened. “and why are we still talking about this? you and nat already squeezed out every information from me for an entire week.”

“i didn't mean your first first kiss!” she exclaimed, following you around the kitchen as you made yourself a cup of coffee. “you've had a crush on the guy for so long, and the first time you two kiss each other is when you're pretending. that's not how i pictured it at all!”

you had to admit, the mission was sort of a blessing in disguise and a curse at the same time. you were glad to be able to spend time with bucky in ways you've dreamt of, but there was also the horrible reminder that none of it was real. with how avoidant bucky was with you, it was impossible for any of it to happen outside of the mission.

“well, maybe you should stop picturing us doing that sort of stuff. you're way more invested in this than i am, wanda. don't you have your own relationship to think about?” you asked. although you knew she was in a happy relationship with vision, you just wanted her to take a break from all the bucky talk. “when is your man home anyway?”

“my relationship is doing great, so i'm good. i don't need to think of it as much since he gives me everything that i need, and i think of yours because you deserve happiness as well.” she smiled fondly, her eyes sparkling with happiness. “and i'm glad that you asked because this reminded me that vision's arriving with bucky soon.”

“already?” your eyes widened at her statement, completely forgetting that bucky, along with steve, clint, and vision, were coming home today from their mission. “why didn't you tell me sooner!?”

after finishing your mission with bucky two weeks ago, he was immediately sent into another mission which specifically needed him. so, today would technically be the first time you're seeing him again since you last called him your “husband,” which was more nerve-wracking than you expected.

“hey, i'm your best friend, not your alarm.” wanda raised her hands up, defending herself. “and why are you so worried? i can feel your anxiety without needing to be in your head.”

“well, we never talked after.. you know,” you replied, taking a big sip out of your cup. “i know none of it meant anything and that we were just doing our job, but it's the first time i'll be with him normally and not as a pretend married couple. it's kinda awkward, wands.”

“you were able to pretend you didn't like the guy for months, you can do it again for another day.” she answered. “unless you finally tell him what you feel?”

“oh, that? yeah, never happening. i'm not going to risk—”

“there you are, sweetheart.”

there was a collective shocked gasp from both you and wanda, recognizing that voice from behind. except the gasps had different reasons.

you were surprised with his arrival.

wanda was surprised that he casually called you sweetheart.

you turn to find bucky already walking towards you with a smile on his face.

this man never smiles unless he was tasked to do so!

“bucky! you're back!” you awkwardly greeted him.

“yeah, didn't they tell you? i was looking for you when we landed.” he said, pulling you close to him before bending to place a soft kiss on your lips like it was something he'd always done. “you okay, baby? you look pale. did you eat?”

i look pale because wanda is right here with us and you just kissed me while acting like we're dating!

“um, yeah, i'm fine. i'm fine,” you answered, gently pulling yourself away from his arms before he could wrap them around you completely. “can we talk? privately?”

he frowned, worry etched on his face, but he nodded and squeezed your arm softly. “of course. where do you wanna talk, doll?”

“anywhere where wanda isn't there.” you said lightheartedly, throwing a sharp glance at wanda who finally understood what you wanted her to do.

“oh! right, right. i'm sorry, you guys can stay here. i have um..” she paused, thinking of a reason to say. “i have to look for vision anyway. we're supposed to watch a movie together. bye!”

and just like that, wanda was gone and you were left alone with bucky in the kitchen.

before you could speak, bucky asked you first. “what's the matter, doll?”

“what's the matter?” you echoed in a higher tone. “what was that all about?”

“what are you talking about?” he asked, seemingly confused.

“you kissed me, bucky, like it was nothing. then you keep calling me these nicknames.” you reminded him. “we're back home, not in los angeles in our fake house that we used as a fake couple.”

bucky took a step back when he realised his actions, now finding it hard to look at you. “i.. i'm sorry. i completely forgot. i just.. i wasn't thinking. i got used to how we were before,” he mumbled, still finding the right words to say. “did i make you uncomfortable?”

“no, but you made me confused,” you replied. “i'm guessing you got used to how we acted as a fake married couple, but you were gone for another mission. how are you still stuck with the old routine we had?”

“because that's all i could think about,” he answered, now staring at you. “while you're back here in the tower, completely done with our mission, i was thrown back into another one, having only you in my head to pull me back up from the fatigue.”

“you're telling me that you kept thinking about us even when you were gone? why?”

“haven't you?”

“is this a trick question?”

“it's a question to find out whether you like me too or not.”

“you.. you like me?” you blinked. “that's impossible.”

“how on earth is that impossible?”

“because you're always so cold and grumpy around me,” you answered. “i think you're just confused with all the acting we've done, bucky. you don't like me.”

“i was supposed to go on that mission with sharon, not you.” he exhaled. “she volunteered to do it, so she was initially picked. i tried getting out of it, but i had advantages that they needed for the mission to go smoothly. so, i agreed, but in one condition.”

“what was it?” you whispered.

“that you should be my partner,” he answered quickly. “ask me why.”

your heart pounded. “why?”

“because i wanted an excuse to act the way i've always wanted to. i wasn't cold or grumpy because i didn't like you, i just didn't want to scare you.” bucky explained, his hand reaching out for yours. “god, doll. figuring out whether you like me or not has got to be the hardest mission i had to deal with. so do me a favour and get me out of this misery.”

once your lungs found a bit of oxygen again, you finally spoke. “what you said.. you mean it?”

bucky nodded. “every word.”

“well, i like you too.” you tried to bite back a huge smile. “for some time now, actually. wanda will eventually tell you all about my obsession with you. i can't believe we were both worrying for the wrong things.”

“your obsession with me, huh?” he asked cockily, a teasing grin plastered on his face.

“really? i said all that and that's what caught your attention?”

“can't help it. i've been obsessed with you for a long time now as well.” his eyes crinkled at the corners, a little smile gracing his lips while his arm slipped around your waist.

your eyes peeked up at him through your lashes. “does this make it real now?”

“do you want it to be?”

“you're really asking me that?” your chest rumbled. “of course i do.”

“then let's make it real.”

bucky watched you intensely for a few seconds as if he wanted to frame this exact moment before licking his lips and leaning down. you suck a breath, eyes closing as you felt his soft lips meet yours.

you never realised how much you've grown familiar with his touch and affection since your time together as a fake couple.

except this time, none of it was fake.

should we see their time in los angeles as an undercover married couple? 👀

if you have any requests for bucky, send them my way! 💌

[cosmiclily]

chapter five: a quiet place

wc: 2.5k

Archie gave the four of you a week to rest, a much-needed break after the whirlwind of shows and the final concert in LA. He assured you he’d spend that time sorting through the offers from record labels, narrowing down the best options for the band to consider. For now, all you had to do was recharge.

You spent the first half of the week at home, a luxury you hadn’t had in what felt like ages. Your small apartment had never seemed so welcoming—or so quiet. The faint scent of lavender lingered in the air from a candle you’d left burning, and sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, casting soft patterns on the walls.

You devoted much of your time to tending to your plants, which, to your surprise, had survived your absence. The little jungle you’d cultivated in your living room was a mix of vibrant greens and delicate blooms, and caring for them brought a sense of calm you didn’t realize you needed.

Another bright spot of your week was Margaret, your neighbor who lived just down the hall. She was the kind of person who seemed to have endless energy and warmth, always ready with a smile and a story. When she heard you were home, she knocked on your door with a plate of fresh-baked goods—a mix of buttery cookies and warm banana bread that melted in your mouth.

“Thought you could use some real food after all that fast living,” she teased, her eyes twinkling. “I saw some of the videos from your concert. My grandson showed me—oh, you all were fantastic!”

You smiled, feeling an unexpected wave of gratitude. “Thanks, Margaret. It’s good to be back. And these look amazing, as always.”

She gave you a knowing look as you took the plate. “Don’t forget to take care of yourself, dear. Fame or no fame, it’s important to stay grounded.”

Margaret reminded you so much of your mom, and the resemblance tugged at something deep inside you. It had been months since you last spoke to her. The silence between you started after that explosive fight with your dad—the one where he’d said things you couldn’t forget, let alone forgive. What stung even more was how your mom had stayed quiet, never once standing up for you.

You’d replayed that moment countless times, wondering why she hadn’t defended you. Did she agree with him? Or was she too afraid to speak out? Either way, it had created a chasm between you, one that felt harder to cross with each passing day.

As you sat on your couch that evening, the warmth of Margaret’s banana bread lingering on your tongue, you found yourself staring at your phone. Your thumb hovered over your mom’s contact, the urge to call her battling against your pride. You wanted to tell her about the band’s success, about LA, about how far you’d come despite everything.

Before you could make a decision, the sharp buzz of your doorbell startled you, cutting through the quiet. Frowning, you glanced at the clock. It was almost 8 p.m., and you weren’t expecting anyone—especially on a Thursday. You set your phone down and got up, padding toward the door.

As you unlocked it and pulled it open, a pair of familiar blue eyes stared back at you.

“Vi,” you said, a little surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“Hey,” she replied, her voice softer than usual as she shifted her weight awkwardly. She held a crumpled notebook in one hand, her other stuffed into the pocket of her hoodie. “Can I come in?”

You stepped aside, opening the door wider. “Sure. Come on in.”

Vi stepped into your apartment, glancing around as though she hadn’t been here dozens of times before. She seemed hesitant, almost out of place in the cozy atmosphere of your living room. She hovered near the edge of the couch, not quite sitting down yet.

“What do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” you asked, crossing your arms and leaning against the doorframe. There was no malice in your tone, just genuine curiosity. Vi wasn’t the type to show up unannounced.

She shrugged, holding up the notebook. “I, uh... I had some lyrics I wanted to show you. I know we’ve got the meeting on Sunday, but these have been bouncing around in my head, and I figured... you know. Might as well share them now.”

You raised an eyebrow, motioning for her to sit. “Couldn’t wait, huh?”

Vi gave a small smirk, finally sinking onto the couch. “Not really. You know how it is—when something’s stuck in your brain, it’s hard to let it go.”

You nodded, sitting across from her in the armchair. “Yeah, I get that. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

She hesitated for a moment before handing you the notebook. The pages were a little worn, with scribbled notes and scratched-out lines in the margins. You could tell she’d been working on this for a while.

As you read, the words began to take shape in your mind. The lyrics were raw, filled with the kind of emotion Vi always managed to channel so well. There were hints of longing, heartbreak, and even a glimmer of hope. It was personal—maybe the most personal thing she’d written in a long time.

“These are... really good, Vi,” you said, looking up at her. “Like, really good. Where did this come from?”

She shrugged again, avoiding your gaze. “I don’t know. Just... stuff I’ve been feeling, I guess. Thought maybe we could use it for something.”

You studied her for a moment. There was something vulnerable about her tonight, a softness that was usually hidden behind her tough exterior. “Are these about Caitlyn?” you asked gently.

Vi tensed slightly but nodded. “Yeah. I mean, not just about her, but... yeah. I’ve been thinking about a lot of things lately. About how I handled stuff, how I didn’t handle stuff. Writing helps, you know?”

You gave her a small smile. “Yeah, I do. And for what it’s worth, I think this is some of your best work. We can definitely do something with it.”

She looked up at you then, a flicker of relief in her eyes. “Thanks. I wasn’t sure if it was... too much.”

“Not at all,” you assured her. “If anything, it’s exactly what we need right now. It’s honest.”

Vi leaned back against the couch, letting out a breath she seemed to have been holding. “Good. That’s... good. I’m glad.”

For a moment, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, the weight of unspoken words hanging between you. Finally, Vi spoke again.

“I’m trying, you know,” she said quietly. “To get my shit together. For the band, but also... for myself.”

You met her gaze, nodding. “I can see that. And I’m proud of you, Vi. We all are.”

She gave you a small, lopsided smile. “Thanks. That means a lot.”

As the evening wore on, the two of you ended up talking about the band, the tour, and everything in between. By the time Vi finally left, it was almost midnight, and you felt a strange sense of peace. Maybe things weren’t perfect, but they were getting better. Slowly, piece by piece, you were all finding your way.

──────────────────────

When Sunday finally came around, anxiety settled into your chest like a weight you couldn’t shake. You gripped the steering wheel tighter than necessary as you drove to the office, glancing at the cup holder where your coffee sat untouched and lukewarm. The faint aroma teased you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to take even one sip. Everything about this day felt too important, too heavy.

This was it—the moment where dreams started to take shape or collided with reality. For the first time, the success of the band didn’t just feel like an abstract goal; it was a tangible possibility. And that made it all the more terrifying.

You tried to rehearse what you wanted to say to Archie in your head, but the words felt clunky and insincere. You knew what you wanted—needed, really—from a label. Creative freedom, no stifling expectations, no cookie-cutter demands to fit into a box someone else built for you. But deep down, you also knew the truth: success would come with compromises. Some decisions would be out of your control, and you’d have to live with that.

As you pulled into the parking lot, your heart sank when you saw Vi’s motorcycle already parked outside. Of course she’d be early—before her crash out she was always the one to show up first, as if it gave her a sense of control over things she couldn’t actually control. You grabbed your coffee, even though it was too cold to drink, and headed inside.

The office was buzzing with a nervous energy. Jinx was perched on the edge of a couch, twirling a pen between her fingers while humming a tune under her breath. Ekko was leaned over a table covered in notes and printouts, his brow furrowed as if he were mentally weighing every pro and con of the offers. Vi was off to the side, standing by the window with her arms crossed, staring out at nothing in particular.

“Morning,” you said, your voice quieter than intended.

Vi glanced over her shoulder and gave a quick nod, her expression unreadable. Jinx shot you a grin. “Hey! Ready to sell your soul today?” she joked, though the edge in her voice betrayed her own nervousness.

“Hardly,” you muttered, setting your coffee down on the table near Ekko. “Where’s Archie?”

“Conference room,” Ekko replied without looking up. “He said he’ll call us in once everything’s set up.”

You nodded and took a seat, trying to ignore the knots twisting in your stomach. The wait felt eternal, though it was probably only ten minutes before Archie emerged, clipboard in hand, and waved you all into the room.

Once inside, you saw a stack of neatly organized folders waiting on the table. Archie gestured for everyone to sit before he took his place at the head of the table.

“All right,” he began, his tone businesslike but not without a hint of excitement. “Here’s the deal: I’ve gone through all the offers we’ve received, narrowed them down to the ones I think are the best fit, and flagged a few for us to discuss in more detail. But before we dive in, I need to know what you all want out of this. What’s most important to you?”

You hesitated for a moment, glancing around the table. Jinx looked eager to dive into the discussion, Ekko was calm and composed, and Vi... well, Vi just looked tired.

Finally, you cleared your throat and spoke up. “Creative freedom. That’s the biggest thing for me. I don’t want us to lose what makes us us just to fit into someone else’s expectations. But...” You hesitated, forcing yourself to meet Archie’s gaze. “I also know we might have to give up some things to make this work. I just don’t want us to lose everything.”

Archie nodded thoughtfully, jotting something down on his clipboard. “That’s fair. Anyone else?”

Ekko chimed in, echoing your concerns but adding a focus on long-term stability. Jinx mentioned wanting a label that could help expand their reach while still letting them experiment with their sound. Vi stayed quiet for most of the discussion, only speaking up when Archie pressed her.

“I just don’t want us to get screwed over,” she said bluntly. “I’ve heard enough horror stories to know how this can go wrong.”

Archie nodded again, his expression serious. “Trust me, I’ve kept that in mind. The deals on the table aren’t perfect, but none of them will put you in a position where you’re signing away your lives.”

As the discussion continued, you found yourself feeling more at ease. The anxiety didn’t disappear entirely, but hearing everyone’s thoughts—and knowing Archie was in your corner—made the weight on your chest a little lighter.

By the end of the meeting, you had all mostly settled on one label, a decision that somehow balanced what each of you wanted without compromising too much. The label promised creative freedom, a reasonable timeline for releases, and a hands-off approach when it came to shaping your sound—a rarity in the industry. Archie, ever the organized manager, said he would arrange a meeting with the label’s director for the four of you to finalize details and ask any lingering questions. It wasn’t a done deal yet, but the choice had been made, and the path forward was clear.

There was an unspoken relief in the room. Everyone seemed lighter, as though a massive weight had been lifted. Jinx practically buzzed with energy, tapping her fingers against the edge of the table in a rhythm only she could hear. “I can’t believe we’re actually doing this,” she said with a grin. “Like, for real. This is happening.”

Ekko chuckled softly, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah, it feels good to finally have a plan. No more guessing.”

Even Vi, who had stayed quiet through most of the meeting, seemed to exhale some of her tension. She leaned back against her chair, crossing her arms but with a faint, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. It wasn’t much, but you knew her well enough to see that she was cautiously optimistic—excited, even.

As the meeting wrapped up, Archie clapped his hands together. “All right, then. I’ll get that meeting on the books and send you all the details once it’s confirmed. In the meantime, take the rest of the day to relax. You’ve earned it.”

Everyone shuffled out of the room, their energy buzzing in different ways. Jinx skipped ahead, talking a mile a minute about merch ideas she suddenly had. Ekko followed, his phone already out as he muttered something about updating their social media.

You hung back, walking alongside Vi as the two of you headed toward the exit.

“You seem... different,” you said, glancing over at her.

She raised an eyebrow, though her expression softened. “Different how?”

“Like... I don’t know. Lighter? You were so quiet during the meeting, but you don’t seem upset or anything.”

Vi shrugged, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jacket. “Guess I just needed to wrap my head around everything. It’s a lot, you know? But this label... it feels right. I think we can actually make this work.”

Her words surprised you, but in a good way. Vi wasn’t one to express herself easily, so hearing even a hint of optimism from her felt like a victory.

“I think so too,” you said, matching her stride.

As you reached the parking lot, you parted ways, each heading to your own car. The sky was bright, the air crisp, and for the first time in a while, it felt like the future wasn’t something to fear.

──────────────────────

masterlist - chapter six

notes: im in love with vi i wanna smooch her 😭

taglist: @saturnhas82moons @baylegend6 @oidloid @vaebear @wicked-laugh

[libbythatcherssecretgf]

Vacation

Libby Thatcher x fem! reader

——————————————————————————

Synopsis: Libby & you have been dating for a handful of years now. The kids were all now out of the house for the summer. So the two of you take a much needed vacation getaway.

Content Warning: established relationship, vacation, yearning, t!t play, n!pple play, vag!nal f!ngering, 😸 munching, b0ttom Libby!

Minors DNI

[ This took me way longer then it should have. I’m not editing to, because I’m over it. But I hope you all enjoy it! As always, please keep your comments or suggestions in public areas. As I do not accept DM’s regarding nsfw content at all. Thank you! Enjoy! 💋]

tagged peeps: @imorynn @ahsfan05 @alittlewitchyone @im-a-carnivorous-plant

——————————————————————————

Summer 1997

When you stepped out of the bathroom, you didn’t bother to put clothes on. They weren’t going to stay on for long anyway, so there wasn’t really a point to it. Drying you body off, before putting on the fancy hotel deodorants and perfumes. Then drying and brushing your hair just to get the knots out.

“Baby, you’re taking an awful long time in there.”

Libby’s soft voice calls out from the main portion of the hotel room.

“Just a minute!”

You say quickly, scrambling to finish getting yourself presentable for your lover. Then sauntering out of the bathroom, with the towel covering your body. Smiling at the expression on her face when she see’s you. But she was stark naked as well, her brown curls caressing her newly tan skin at the shoulder. Making you inhale a sharp breathe.

“You look absolutely gorgeous. As always” you say in a soft voice, too distracted at the view to care when it cracks.

She laughs, tilting her head back exposing more of herself to you. Before catching her breathe and gesturing for you to come to her. Which you happily too. Crawling on the bed to her, meeting her halfway by connecting your lips. The kiss deepens and Libby gently holds the back of your head to keep you in place. Meanwhile you hook your arm around her back, while the free one holds yourself up.

It doesn’t last long like that however, this was the first time in months that you both had the opportunity to make love, neither of you were going to waste a minute.

You make out lavishly, taking your time exploring eachothers mouths. Your tongues meeting and dancing together, in a rhythm only the both of you knew. It was warm and sweet, basking in the taste of eachothers mouths. Most of the time knowaeays the little sex the both of you had, to be quick and to the point.

But now, here with her. You could simply relax, enjoying the time. Drawing it out, teasing eachother, making eachother even more needy. You had a week to explore eachothers bodies without interruption. You certainly were not going to waste any opportunity to show how much you loved the woman you married.

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

After many moments of making out with her, you break the connection of yours lips. Pressing firm, although tender kisses from the corner of her mouth to where her jaw meets her ear.

"Lay down honey, let me take care of you." you breathe out in a low & seductive tone.

Libby lets out a shaky breathe, nodding her head while moving back to lay her head against the pillow. Looking up at you, with those big expressive eyes of hers.

One thing you especially adore about Libby, was how doe like and expressive her eyes are. Her emotions are worn through them, every thought, every feeling. Is portrayed through those chocolate eyes.

With an amused smile you start leaving open mouthed, sloppy kisses down her throat. Making your way down her body, only stopping at the swell of her voluminous breasts to stay special attention to the tender flesh. After three children, they were very sensitive. Which was all the more fun for you. It made her easier to tease.

Beginning to use the top of your tongue to tease her areola, reveling in the surprised whimper she tells out. Her body involuntarily jolting upward a bit towards your mouth. While you take your nipple in her mouth, beginning to roll it between your lips. The noises she's making only egging you on to keep it up.

Libby had always been a good lay, to put it in a trashy but somewhat respectable way. She was rusty at her abilities of sleeping with woman, because of her marriage to drew. Thought she certainly knew her way around the female body.

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

"Ooohh. That feels so good baby. Keep going."

Fuck. Her voice low, grovily, laced with pleasure and affection. God, it's like music to your ears. Turning your gaze upwards, adjusting your neck so you can see the look on her face.

Her head is thrown backwards, mouth slightly open and her eyes closed. She looked like she was in utter bliss, and you have barely begun to pleasure her body. Tracing your hand against her now tanned skin, from her sides, down her sternum and resting on her thighs. Moving your mouth to her other nipple and teasing it. Taking it between your teeth gently, pulling at it with finesse. You knew her body, you knew what she liked, what felt good for her.

The way her body withered under you causing the familiar warmth spreading through your core, pooling in your stomach like molten lava. You’re inner thighs being to become slick & wet from your own desires. However, this round of passion wasn’t for you. You’re wife was the focus of all your arousal.

——————-

Your hands knead the soft flesh of her perfect breasts, that fit in your hand like they were meant to be there. While your hands keep the pleasure that goes with her nipples going. You trail languid kisses down, lower and lower. Paying special attention to the softness of her belly. After giving birth to three babies, her body showed it. Only making her body more beautiful, more powerful.

“You’re so beautiful, libs. A natural born muse.”

Your voice is muffled against her skin, your mouth pooling with saliva somewhat. While you feel her hand to rest against the back of your head, brushing your hair out of your face.

“I never get sick of hearing you say it” God, she’s still using that honey like voice.

That only adds fuel to the fire, while you move yourself down between her legs. Rubbing her inner thighs gently to help her relax. Kissing the tender flesh just above her vu!va. Causing her to let out a small moan. You carefully collect her arousal on your fingers. Using it to circle her c!it in regular motions. Increasing the pace once she gets used to the sensation. Her thighs gently clenching around your hand.

“Shhh, that’s it. I missed touching your pretty c!it, taking my time to watch you come undone.”

Her body begins to arch, while her breathing becomes more ragged. You remove your fingers from her c!it and slide one inside her. Feeling the stretch & warmth all the way to your knuckle. Once she gets used to the sensation, you slip a second finger in. Beginning to lick at the folds of her labia. Her legs quiver, she inhaled sharply.

“That’s it. Relax baby.”

You purr while sliding a second finger sinking back to your knuckles inside her, and curling your fingers to feel her g spot. Using your finger tips to stimulate the sensitive flesh. Having to use your other hand to hold her hips down, because she keeps moving. Eventually picking up your pace, her own arousal acting as the lubricant you need.

Before long, her walks began tightening and she was coming undo. Hard. She was loud, it was no secret. If the walls were thin, they guests next door certainly heard her moans & screams. Eventually turned to whimpers when she started getting overstimulated. Listening to cues, you gently slide your fingers out of her. Placing gentle kisses to the soft flesh of her stomach.

“Oh god, I needed that.”

You smirk, and look up at her.

“I’m glad I could be of assistance.”

She rolls her eyes, scoffs. Not moving though, or many any effort to actually show she was annoyed. Her breathing was still labored and erratic. Her belly still pooled with that sore & tingly feeling she gets after a good orgasm. You gently massage up and down her legs, giving her time to recollect herself.

With each breathe her breasts rose, your eyes tracing over her chest to her rib cage. The look of her tanned skin, her freckles, her stretch marks. All of it was so beautiful. Your useless sapphic brain, appreciated every part of her body. You begin pressing hot, open mouth kisses against her stomach and thighs.

“You’re a tease”

Another smirk crosses your lips, you enjoyed this more then anything. Taking care of your lady was the highlight of your day. So naturally you connected your mouth to her pussy lips. Licking strips up and down, as she withers under you. Your nose bumping against her c!it while you snake your tongue inside her. Your hands making there way to her behind, and holding her against your mouth.

Her hand comes to the back of your head, fingers laced into your hair. Gripping your scalp tighter the deeper your tongue explores, and the harder you press. Massaging your hands against her butt, while she’s gripping your hair harder. The burning sensation against your scalp only further increases your need to get her off.

The tangy taste that reaches your tongue, after her thighs clench against the side of your head. Almost suffocating you, damn, what a way to go. Indicated that she had another, even more intense orgasm. Your face was now wet with her slick, and your pupils were blown out. Pulling away, and looking at her like a rabid animal.

“Fuck baby- I missed this.”

[violetvines]

hey i LOVED your averyjameson fic, and i was wondering if you could write one for grayson and lyra but with a teen girl, i think that would be so cute x

aww thank you, i'm glad you loved it! :P i hope i did gray and lyra justice, i present to you....

born to be free 🎀

summary: gabriela hawthorne was born to be free, not to be controlled. which is why she hesitates to tell her father, who, by the way, has the need to be in control all the time, of her whereabouts after returning late one night (considering the fact that she went for a party). grayson hawthorne will not yield until he gets his answers and his daughter will not back down either... that is, until lyra kane comes into the picture, playing her role as a true queen of hearts.

characters: grayson hawthorne, lyra kane, gabriela hawthorne [their daughter]

warnings: slight innuendos

a/n: gabriela, because g, and it's a pretty name <3 also omg the grayson and lyra scene (i hope i captured the romantic tension nicely)

Sometimes, silence was the best way to answer a question.

Those were words from Grayson Hawthorne himself, and as his daughter, Gabriela Hawthorne was no stranger to those words. Which is why she usually used her father's words against him.

The silence dragged on in the living room, Grayson's eyes never straying from the newspaper he had in his lap. If Gabriela could guess, he was trying to solve a crossword puzzle. He didn't have a pencil – he usually solved the games with his mind.

She was sitting in an armchair, the one close to the fireplace. Yes, their house had a fireplace, thanks to her father's old soul. She almost rolled her eyes. The house had a very old money feel to it, not her favourite aesthetic, but it was comfortable enough.

"I asked you a question," Grayson tried again, reiterating what he said a minute ago. "Why did you return so late last night?"

He could've asked her where she had been, but no, Grayson Hawthorne had to kill two birds with one stone, as always. She knew that him asking her "why" would lead to her telling him "when", "where" and "how".

She absent-mindedly scrolled through her Pinterest, trying to think of what to say. Her father was extremely overprotective, and she had a feeling that she would be sitting through a half-hour lecture if she actually told him where she'd been last night.

"I was at Emma's," she said, as convincingly as possible, using the skills she learnt as a Hawthorne, "we were working on a project due next week."

There was a crack as he straightened the newspaper in his lap.

"You were not."

That was it. That was all he said. And all the while, he still hadn't taken his eyes off the crossword on the newspaper page.

Attempting to change the topic, Gabriela spoke up again. "You seem to be awfully good at multitasking."

"I'm good at everything I do," he replied, slightly raising an eyebrow, "that is how it should be." Of course, everything he did had to be perfect.

As if a switch had been clicked, he lowered his newspaper and locked eyes with her.

"And I hope to be a good father too." He said it softly, sincerely.

Gabriela knew she was lucky because from what she had heard from her mother, a heavy burden of expectations had been placed on her father's shoulders when he was younger. She knew she was lucky because Grayson had every reason to continue that vicious cycle by placing impossible expectations on her shoulders and raising her to be the perfect child. But he didn't. He just wanted to see her happy. She knew he was trying not to pressure her into doing things she didn't want to do, and when she made a mistake, he never scolded her for it. He only told her to keep trying.

Sometimes, she wished he could treat himself the same way he treated her.

"You weren't at Emma's yesterday," he continued, "and you didn't answer my question."

"I asked you why you returned so late, not where you were or what you were doing."

"So... now you're telling me I don't know where I went and what I did last night?"

Sometimes, she couldn't help feeling a little annoyed with Grayson. She knew he had her best interests at heart, but his overprotectiveness could make him a controlling parent. And Gabriela?

She was not born to be controlled. She was born to be free. At least, that's what her mother had constantly told her when she was a child.

"No. I'm telling you that I know where you weren't last night, and you know where you were."

She couldn't tell if he actually knew she hadn't been at Emma's house or if he was testing her. That was one thing she hated about talking to him. She frequently found herself caught in his traps.

She was saved when her mother walked into the living room, taking a seat beside her father.

"Yes, love?" He asked her, immediately setting the newspaper aside.

"Give me that." Lyra reached for the newspaper across his lap, and he let her take it. Grayson Hawthorne never let people take things from him, he never just let things happen, but for her mother, he would always make an exception, Gabriela knew.

"How many left?" Lyra asked.

As Grayson leaned over to point out the last row that was blank, Lyra took the opportunity to give her daughter a wink. So she was distracting him for her. Gabriela flashed her a small smile. She loved her mother so, so much. She understood her like no one else did.

She made to slowly get up from her chair, noticing how Grayson's attention was all on Lyra.

Her mother read out the clue. It was a simple word but it meant everything to Gabriela.

"Freedom," she said, "and seven blanks."

Grayson opened his mouth, but Lyra beat him to the answer. "Liberty."

He gave her a mock frown, and by the time this happened, she was already creeping up the stairs to her bedroom. She gently shut the door just as Lyra burst out into fits of laughter, probably making fun of Grayson or something. She loved doing that, and he loved letting her do that. Gabriela knew that Grayson knew as much as her that there was no good in trying to stop Lyra Kane. Once you decided to stop her, she would do the exact opposite – continue until she was done. She was unyielding, like the force of a tide, but she also had an air of grace, like a ballerina.

"Not like," she thought to herself. Her mother had done ballet when she was younger. She was a ballerina, had been.

She turned and gave her room a once over, then walked over to her bed, pulling back the covers before flopping down on it.

But she didn't go to sleep.

"I know what you were trying to do," Grayson told Lyra, after he had finally set the newspaper back into its designated rack in the corner of the living room. He turned around to find her sprawled on the sofa, occupying its entire length, facing him. He raised an eyebrow at her. She raised one back.

Gosh, he hated it when she did that. He hated it when she challenged him and he hated the fact that every part of him that was formidable would dissipate in the second she did something like that.

She was his undoing, he was sure of it. Ever since he heard her voice on the line, some part of him knew.

Her message was clear: she was taking the sofa, and if he wanted his space back, he'd have to forget it and move to the armchair or...

He walked to the sofa, stopped directly before it. Lyra continued staring at him, arms crossed, eyes widened in innocence.

"What?"

Grayson swallowed. Then, he leaned over and placed both hands on either side of her, trapping her face, only inches from his. Lyra could see the rise and fall of his chest, as if he were containing himself. She smirked.

He lowered his lips to her ear and whispered, repeating his previous statement.

"I know what you were trying to do. I know what you are trying to do."

Her gaze slid to his striking gray eyes, then strategically moved to his lips. "Is it working?"

He shut his eyes for a second.

Nice try, Lyra. But not today. Not tonight.

He pulled back, took a few steps back. Lyra nearly laughed. She loved the effect she had on him. Never mind what had just happened, she would get her compensation soon enough. What mattered was that Gabriela managed to escaped a night of interrogations. She planned to keep it that way.

"Fine, go ahead and resist me." She finally got up, and positioned herself right before Grayson. "You won't last long."

This time, he looked directly into her eyes. Circled both arms around her waist. Lowered himself so that their lips were nearly touching.

He never knew when he was hitting his target, but this time, he could tell he had, by the way her pupils dilated. "You first," he smirked.

She smacked him on the shoulder. "I'm not the one who looked like they were constipated earlier."

"Constipated?" He scrunched his face. He nearly retracted his hands but she held them in place with her own.

"What was I trying to do?" She asked him now, curious about what he had to say. He could try, but she was very good at deflecting. It was hard to say who was going to win.

"Distract me." He replied almost immediately, all the feeling in the room moments before already disappearing.

He gently removed his hands and used them to smooth down her hair. "What is she hiding from me?" He continued, seemingly deep in thought.

Lyra sighed. Looks like her plan to deflect had fallen flat. She couldn't change the topic without him getting suspicious, and she worried that he would take matters into his own hands if he started suspecting anything. Internally, she shook her head. There was no need for any PI business or anything of the sort.

She decided to tell him the news herself. At least Gabriela wouldn't have to go through the process of answering question after question.

Before she could say anything, his eyes narrowed and he directed a question to her. "You know, don't you?" She could see the wheels turning in his head, and all the while, he hadn't stopped stroking her hair. As much as she liked that, she took his hands and led him back to the sofa. He watched her carefully, as if he expected her to lie down on it again, but she only sat down. He sat next to her.

"I do." He looked at her expectantly.

"I know that she knows what she's doing. I know that she knows how to make the best decisions for herself." She paused, carefully shifting her gaze to look directly at him. "And I also know that you want to protect her. I know that's the only reason you do what you do."

"But to her... it can seem controlling, Gray."

Grayson sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He did this every time he found himself at a particularly difficult crossroads. He always did this when he was feeling troubled.

"I know, love." He dropped his hand into his lap.

"But I just can't help it. My family means everything to me, and if anything is threatening their safety, I make sure the threat is neutralised, swiftly."

Lyra took his hand in hers. "That's one of the things I love most about you, Grayson Davenport Hawthorne. But sometimes, the best thing one can do is... to just let things run their course before blocking their movement."

"My dance teacher constantly emphasised the importance of fluidity over rigidity," she began, but stopped as she noticed Grayson's eyes widen slightly. He knew she didn't like talking about her dancing days. She gave him a small smile that meant "it's okay".

"What I mean is... being protective isn't a bad thing, but giving her a chance to make her own choices and face their consequences may have some good of its own."

Grayson opened his mouth to speak, but she placed one finger over his lips, shushing him for a moment longer.

"I'm sure you can agree that any choice a Hawthorne makes is never a bad choice." She raised her eyebrows and could see Grayson's earlier taut expression loosening.

"Besides, she's well-behaved, Gray, and we've raised her well. I trust that she thinks about her choices well enough before choosing them."

He thought about it. Nodded slowly. "Lyra..."

"Mhm?"

"I'm going to go talk to her."

"But she's probably asleep–"

"I want to hear it from her. I want her to trust me." He wrapped his arms around Lyra and brought her closer to his chest. Kissed her on the head.

"Thank you for talking to me, love. You always know what to say."

She rolled her eyes. "Not always."

"Shhhh," he said, "you are my always."

She looked up at him, then surprised him with a quick peck on the lips.

"You know I could stay here all night," he wound his arms around her tighter. "I'll only get up because I know we have the rest of our lives."

Lyra got up first. "See you later, Hawthorne," she winked.

He shook his head. Lyra Kane, his undoing. There was one more thing he had to say to her.

"Also... we both know she isn't asleep, right?"

She turned and looked at him. "What do you think?"

He answered with a knowing smile.

Gabriela rushed back to her room before Grayson reached the bottom landing. She had eavesdropped on part of the conversation.

She lay in bed, under the covers, which she had wrinkled, so that it looked like she had been asleep for a while now. Slowing her breaths, she turned to face away from the door.

Three knocks sounded. She nearly didn't give an answer until three words were uttered.

"Hey... my little queen of spades."

She opened her eyes. That was what Grayson had nicknamed her as a kid. He even went so far as to call her "Your Majesty" back then.

"Can I come in?"

Gabriela sighed. She had heard the last few words of his and Lyra's conversation, so she didn't really know why she was still pretending. Maybe it was anticipation of what would happen next. Would he question her continuously, like he did countless times before? Would he listen to what she had to say?

"Yeah," she muttered, hoping he didn't hear. But of course he did.

She turned on her nightstand lamp just as he stepped inside. She kept silent, waiting for the flurry of questions that was sure to come. Grayson walked over to a chair and sat down.

"Your mother spoke to me... about how... controlling I can be sometimes." Gabriela noticed how he struggled to form the sentence. He wasn't used to admitting that being in control was more bad than good. She appreciated him trying.

"But I need you to know that it is not my intention to appear that I am controlling your life. I only want to protect you and... I think it clouds my judgment more often than not." He trailed off, and the room fell into silence again. She knew how hard it was for him to admit things like this. He wasn't used to being unsure.

Gabriela decided to give him a chance. Because that's exactly what her mother did long ago, when she decided to pick up the phone and call Grayson Hawthorne. When she took part in the Grandest Game and ended up on his team. When she saw how scarred his soul was, but didn't choose to give up him on him because he hadn't given up on her.

"I know, dad." The corner of his mouth tilted up at the sound of that.

"I... I'm sorry if it made you feel like you can't trust me anymore. I–"

"It's alright," she said softly. "I may not have felt like telling you certain things, but I do trust you."

"I trust that you have my best intentions at heart."

"That I do." He said it with so much conviction, no one would have dared to argue.

Another lapse of silence.

Sometimes, silence was the best way to answer a question.

"But not all the time," Gabriela thought. "Not now."

She broke the silence. "I didn't fully lie, you know. I was at a party, but I stopped by at Emma's house so that we could go together."

She could tell that Grayson was having a hard time keeping silent, not wanting to pressure her with questions. "Our classmate invited us," she added quickly, in case he had the wrong idea, "she lives a few blocks down from Emma's. I didn't touch alcohol or anything, I mostly just did a bunch of karaoke. And no one approached me... they wouldn't have dared. I stuck with Emma and the girls the whole time."

She didn't think Grayson had ever been to a casual party. Even if he had been to one, he would've been severely overdressed. His love for suits and all.

She half expected him to start his Q&A, even after her explanations, but what he said next shocked her.

"Okay."

"You're not going to question me about it?"

He thought about his answer. "No. But I do have one question."

She sighed. "Shoot."

"Can you promise me that you'll not be afraid of telling me things like this in the future?"

"I'll make you one promise, in return. I promise I'll do what I can to be less... overbearing. To let you have your freedom." He took a deep breath. "I don't want to be your cage, the reason you feel like a trapped bird."

Gabriela was touched. Nearly sniffled. He was truly making an effort.

"As long as you hold up your end of your promise, I'll promise you, and hold up mine."

"Deal." He concluded.

Then, they smiled at each other. The moment was broken when Grayson said, "Have I ever told you of a story where I was dragged to a party by your aunt Gigi?"

"What?! No way." Gabriela nearly laughed at the ridiculous thought. But then again... if Gigi really was involved...

"And I was forced to wear shorts, can you believe it?" This made her mouth drop open.

"You, Grayson Hawthorne, in shorts?"

He nodded, grimacing slightly. "Would you like to hear the story?"

"Do you even need to ask?" She asked him back.

This time, he grinned. An actual grin.

"Once upon a time..."

"You can skip that part, dad. I'm not a little girl anymore." Gabriela wouldn't admit it, but hearing bedtime stories when she had been younger had been her favourite activity of the day.

Grayson ignored her and only continued, sounding a little more cheerful than usual.

"I love you, dad." She said in her head. And knowing that her mother was part of the reason of this change, her inner voice also thanked her silently.

[teine-mallaichte]

Well Varric would still be there... As Storm is Hawke and Anders kid, he has known Varric basically his entire life, he even called him 'uncle varric'. So... Yeah. I even have 'letters home' drafted at different points of the game where he tells his parents what's going on and mentions Varric 😅

In comparison to a lot of the other Rooks I've just read people's answers for, Storms backstory is relatively tame. He's not lost many people, not been forced to kill people or do much that's morally grey. However, that doesn't mean he's not deeply affected by the stuff that has happened.

He had to leave home at age 17 after a run in with a Hurlock caused him to be infected by blight. Obviously his parents couldn't let him die, so Anders took him to his Aunt Bethany and he underwent the joining. Afterwards when Anders told him he needed to stay with the Wardens for a while he called Anders a hypocrite and they've not spoken much since - despite anders attempts. Storm will still add a line or so for his father in letters, but the letters are mainly addressed to his mother and siblings now, and the few times he's seen Anders since Storm's not exactly been all that nice to him. He regrets that. He knowns that his father was only trying to keep him alive, and he knows he has likely been unreasonable - not that this makes it easier to stop or let go of the anger/frustration. (For context Storm is 20 now.)

The actual 'blight incident' when he was 17 also still haunts him. Not only has it resulted in him still being scared of hurlocks, but he feels that he put his two siblings (who were only 12 at the time) in danger. He'll hear them yelling and screaming, especially the way they yelled when he got overpowered by the hurlock. He'll probably relive the fight, relive entering the cave, relive the moment which hits brother Rowan was grabbed (he was fine but that fear of what could have happened still lingers).

I'm still working on his backstory for this next bit, but the other person who will feature heavily in his regret prison is a fellow Grey Warden and his first ever LI. I've not given her a name or really developed her much yet, but he met her after he'd been a Grey Warden about a year. His Aunt Bethany hated the relationship, and hated the woman. She was reckless, morally iffy, and talked Storm into several things. Anyway the relationship only lasted about 7 or 8 months as she died - being a Warden is dangerous. Storm isn't sure if he regrets the relationship, regrets what happened to her, or regrets the way he treated Bethany during the relationship, but whatever it is she is there.

Other than that : basically every decision he's made since joining Varric on this mission. Storm is a deeply insecure person, even if he acts otherwise. He can't really remember his early life, but he was born only 5 months after the chantry explosion. His parents were fugitives, they moved a lot, and that lack of stability and constant anxiety has affected his development. On top of that he's already felt that he's not good enough compared to his parents, his parents friends and then his siblings. He second guesses EVERYTHING, and so every decision he's made since he accidentally nepotismed his way into being way over his head haunts him. Because what if it was the wrong choice? Maybe if he'd done X differently then less people would have died. Maybe if he'd paid attention as a kid and actually learnt to heal like his father and sister he could help people more. Maybe... Maybe... Maybe...

Yeah, he's not having a good time... I can see him being stuck in there longer than 2 weeks and being a mess when he finally gets out.

Oh no it’s Monday, the worst day =(

Oh YAY! It’s the Rook Intro Hour! 🎉💕🍾🎁

How it works: I ask you a question about your Rook(s) and you answer it with as much brevity or verbosity as you desire. You can do this whenever you want, and I’ll reblog it + add some comments! There’s no time limit— if you want to do the older ones, they are collected here! (The post is updated on Fridays!)

Today’s Questions: If the regret prison that Solas traps Rook in at the end of the game hadn’t contained Varric + some of Rook’s companions, what would your Rook have seen there? Would they have been able to overcome their regrets? What would the process have looked like for them— how would they have worked through their emotions without anything to guide them?

Have fun, and thanks for sharing !

[ravenofsilver]

I love my partner I really do but tonight she’s driving me to fucking tears but if I say anything then I know I’m going to be the Bad Guy and I just.

Just wanna scream.

[goldkirk]

If anyone remembers all the dental work I needed done uhhhhhhh three years ago and never went back and ran away forever…I’m finally going back to a dentist on Thursday to restart the process and face my deep and utter abiding terror. And I also scheduled my COVID and flu vaccines for a couple hours later. And my psych appointment to restart meds.

I figured get it all done in one day, have my miserable immune reaction on Friday that I seem to always get with Moderna COVID shots, and then flee directly into the weekend and never be a person again except when I’m on and off crying. It’s going to be so kind to future me to get these things done and I can do it no matter how much I feel like I am constantly about to Actually Physically Die.

[super-done-dead]

so much

[strtravels]

It was becoming a rather strange habit to visit Kate at hospital – last time they had sat for hours in her room and had talked for just as long over some takeaway, getting to know each other even more. Even if he had already known, that… It was still difficult to form the words, even if it was just in his head. HE HAD KNOWN HE LOVED HER, and looking at her now, with the relief making his heart feel lighter, that she would be alright, he couldn’t find any other words to describe his feelings for her, too. HE LOVED HER. And it would be a one-way street that he couldn’t go any further than he had already done. Unprofessional. Uncalled-for. He knew that she would not feel the same for him, and it was ridiculous to act on his feelings. There was too much he would risk. If it didn’t work… He wouldn’t be able to stay here; he wouldn’t be able to continue working this closely with her.

But what if���

He didn’t finish the thought but gave Kate a smile as she reached for the package of her favourite biscuits and grabbed one for herself. He shook his head slightly, as she nudged the package in his direction. “ – thank you, but I really don’t want to eat your biscuits then. And I bought myself some breakfast on the way.” Had eaten it in the car, while the same thoughts had tortured him, which still remained. The ever-lasting question of WHAT IF. What if she returned his feelings, despite everything? What if things would work out well? He knew that chances were low, but wasn’t he always someone clinging to hope, while skies seemed grey and the whole universe turned against them?

“ – But my offer from last time still stands visiting you this time, too, Kate. If there’s anything you want or need, I don’t mind bringing it in, when I also come to bring files and some work to do. It’s nothing. I think the only thing I have to fear is Ellie finding out, I am not letting you rest and watch daytime television.” Chuckled at the words as if they were a joke. They partially were. Not the part about Ellie surely having his head for bringing Kate work to her hospital bed, but was there any other way? Kate couldn’t just sit back and he understood. Had felt the same. While sometimes a hypocrite, he tried to do more than his best now. For her.

Eyes wandered back to the file he had handed to her and the picture of the page it had been opened at. A young man, that looked absolutely harmless; couldn’t hurt a fly – and surely the militia hadn’t been hired by him. TOO EASY. Too obvious. And even without experience in that field, he could tell the cost of that whole attack against UNIT would have been outrageously high. Of course, that was one thing they had tried to track down (with rarely any hope that it would be this easy) – finances. Suspiciously high pay-outs. Nothing. Which had led to the conclusion that this attack had been planned for a long, long time in the first place.

He moved his chair a little, so he could have a better look at the file again; inching closer to Kate, as the picture now was no longer turned upside-down for him. – Keeping some distance still between Kate and himself, he turned the page to have Kate’s attention drawn to another picture. Artie Garman again; his skin even paler under the bright street light and every colour washed away from him in the dark of the night, the picture had been taken in.

“He was photographed apparently drunk – possibly under the influence of substances – a few weeks ago. Not unusually for young politicians to find their first scandal printed in some gossip magazine, before their career has even fully started. Not unusual for said young politician to claim he has no recollection of that night, either. BUT the bodyguard he has hired, had lost Mister Garman for two hours between around midnight and two o’clock in the morning on this Wednesday…” Pointed again at the file; the date highlighted by the clean half-moon of his fingernail for a moment.

“… the same Wednesday some energy spikes in a part of London, close to where Artie Garman was last seen, were registered. We had a small team investigate the site just about an hour later, but they reported back that there was nothing out of the ordinary. The working hypothesis is now, that Artie Garman is being used as a potential scapegoat – or a face and a name for the public, while someone else is pulling the strings in the background, wanting a push an agenda that UNIT would be in the way off…”

Raising his gaze from the file to meet the warm brown of Kate’s eyes, he gave her a somewhat awkward smile as he realised, that he had just been summing up what she could have read herself. He shook his head about himself and then leaned back in his chair again. “I’m sorry – I don’t think your ability to read is impaired, just because – How is your arm?”

Forty Eight hours. A lot could change in forty eight hours when one had little company to keep but their own thoughts. Forty eight hours, twenty six of which were spent trying and failing to convince the medical staff that she was well enough to be discharged. It had taken the threat of having her clearance revoked till the end of the month by UNIT's CMO herself to convince Kate to seat herself back in that hospital bed, pop the telyl on, and enjoy the ah, gourmet offerings that the hospital kitchen had to offer.

Ellie had sounded tired and overworked when Kate had spoken to her over the phone, no doubt running herself ragged trying to keep up with the demand of wounded and dead personnel. Vikram too had sounded just as exhausted. His extensive search for the culprits had yet to yield results at their last call, though he had mentioned there may be a lead he was keeping under wraps Didn't want anyone to go getting their hopes up. The younger staff were back on their feet in no time, Josh, Chloe, Howie too, all eager to help where they could, all of them thankfully unhurt. That just left Ed.

Kate had spent an awful lot of time thinking about Ed....against her better judgement. She had no time, she barely had time to go home these days. Even if she were to pursue this, whatever this thing was between them, it was liable to end disastrously. No. It would be utterly selfish of her. She couldn't possibly and yet she kept replaying those final moments in her mind over and over again. Those blue eyes, his face standing out in the midst of all the chaos around her, the look he'd given her when she'd ordered him to leave her behind. Stubborn as she was and twice as kind.

Twenty hours left.The children visited of course, despite her protests that she was fine, she'd be out of here soon and that she was sure Moira was using this as an excuse to go off gallivanting with her brother. Eighteen hours left, Ed had visited her again, flowers in tow. She'd never particularly liked to receive flowers. Had bought them for her ex-wife on occasion, but the thought of receiving flowers? Had always somewhat irritated her. Convinced they didn't mean anything. Flowers were meant to bloom in the garden, not be plucked and placed artificially in a vase to die three days later from dehydration.....and yet. when Edward bought her flowers, they always lasted for days after, brightening up the hospital room, bringing a little bit of cheer indoors.

They'd talked of work mainly, Kate determined they find whoever was behind the attack on HQ. Just like Vikram, Ed had no new news on that front, though she suspected he too, knew more than he was letting on. That thought both comforted and frustrated her in equal measure. She should be out there chasing leads with the team, not stuck in this bed!

Eight hours.The nurses had let him stay much past the usual visiting hours, right up until she'd looked at the time and realised how late it was, coaxing him off home for a bit of sleep before work tomorrow. She'd slept fitfully. Images of crocodilian teeth and a set of spindly arms reaching out in the night gripped her with cold dread. The militia were gone. But whoever had paid for them was still at large. She woke to a searing pain in her right arm, finding she had rolled over on her side during the night, putting pressure on the wound. Gritting her teeth, she'd righted herself, stubbornly refusing to ask for help. The pain lingered long after, until finally, sleep could take over her once more.

Zero hours. Morning broke, a chilly English sunrise hovering over the horizon and with it, it brought Ed. She offered him a small, tired smile as he set down the custard creams. Barely a second after he'd placed them down, she reached over quickly to open the packet and extract a biscuit, biting off the top with undisguised relish. She washed it down with a sip of lukewarm tea, which had been placed in front of her not three minutes before he arrived.

❝ The biscuits here are rubbish. ❞ She explained by way of apology, nudging the packet over to him. Listened as he spoke, instantly alert. Kate set the biscuit down on her saucer, her brows scrunched together in deep thought. Dusted crumbs off her fingers before reaching for the picture, her fingers brushing against his briefly as she took the photo.

A young man stared back at her, perhaps just a little older than her own son. But where Gordy was a brunette, this man had a mop of bright ginger hair, his pale cheeks dotted with a smattering of equally bright freckles. ❝ Artie Garman, y-yes. I know him. Young, ambitious. Enough aristocracy in his blood to make him think he ought to be in charge of everything, but lacking the financials to back a solid campaign ...I agree. He's too obvious. Not to mention unlikely, Artie barely has the funds to string together for a corflute, never mind an Alien militia. There's more to this! ❞ 

[guhhhhhhhhhhh]

Oh little people in my phone, we're really in it now 😔😔

[ialwaysknewyouwerepunk]

.

[lunar-fey]

ohhhh my god. okay. so. my aunt does like, she buys random junk in bulk from retail wholesalers and then resells it on like, facebook marketplace and ebay and stuff. whatever. so my mom works for her. makes a flat $50 a day, regardless of the fact that shes disabled and doing hard labor for at least 8 hours a day, often 10+. and min wage here is $10 an hour but mom argued that $50 a day is still more than what she would make working the same hours at an actual job because of taxes...like girl that would be 50% taxes. you do not pay that fucking much. so thats already Bad.

but today mom shows me a video of a knife theyre gonna sell, and i watch 2 seconds and i realize its an automatic knife, and i tell her hey. thats illegal to possess in this state. let alone sell! and mom is like ohhh [aunt] knows what shes doing itll be fine.... we sell knives on there all the time she just doesnt put pictures and calls them something else on the listing to get around fb/ebays policies :)

LIKE. HELLO. THATS NOT BETTER. YOURE COMMITTING MULTIPLE CRIMES. *AS YOUR JOB.* and she was just like "its not a big deal she knows what shes doing." folks, this is the same aunt that, very illegally, paid me to sort through her clients confidential tax documents and bank records and stuff. because she works for a bank. and took the records home to sort them. i dont think she DOES know what shes doing, actually!

[poisonedfate]

literally in distress over my job rejecting my availability

[phagodyke]

ykw actually I am angry + disappointed w them. I've been pushing how I feel aside and trying to make it my own fault so it's all contained but I think theyve just been mean. and they really should know me better ik I try to pretend I don't expect more from them so I feel less hurt when they do things that upset me but we've been friends for years by this point. like come on.

[ohbutwheresyourheart]

girlies I'm losing my mind.