#this was just an 1 am conversation that turned surprisingly interesting

[hellfirenacht]

Wing Man Part 8

Fic Summary: Steve 'the Hair' Harrington is your best friend, and is constantly striking out. Sick of this, you two make a deal; you'll wing man for each other. Hooking Steve up with dates is easy, but he finds himself struggling to find you a date. At least, until Dustin starts talking about his new cool friend Eddie.

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Chapter Summary: Eddie explains himself, and you two make plans to hang out on purpose.

5.7k Words

a/n: Sorry I haven't been updating! I swear, I'm almost always thinking about this fic but I've been trying to figure out where to go with it. I'm started to see how I want to shape the story (over 40k words in, go figure). Thank you all so much for your patience!

Also, I've had a lot of people ask me about Paige and have shown interest in what happened between her and Eddie. She is actually from Eddie's prequel novel, Flight of Icarus! I'll still explain bits and pieces during the story, but I highly recommend reading the novel for the full context. I am trying to write this in a way you don't need to read FoI, but it does give extra context to the story.

Anyway, we continue.

Aside from the mixtape playing in the van, it was surprisingly quiet between you and Eddie. Despite his eagerness to show up and take you out, now that you were sitting in his passenger side seat again, he had no idea what to do next. The sound of Iron Maiden was rumbling through the van, crackling through the old speakers. 

It wasn’t often that Eddie was at a loss for words or couldn’t come up with something to say. After embracing his role in the Hawkins High ecosystem as the resident loudmouth freak he could always come up with something to say to break the ice or cause a ruckus. 

But, being loud wasn’t exactly a substitution for actual charisma. He could hold the attention of his Hellfire Club during the game, and keep them safe enough from most bullies even. But intimidation was different than... whatever the hell he was supposed to be doing here. Flirting? That seemed right. He knew he should be trying to flatter you or compliment you or do something to show that he had an interest in you. 

“So,” you were the one to break the silence between the two of you. “What have you been up to for the past two weeks?”

Eddie know what you actually meant was “What the fuck, man?” which was a really fair question. 

“I should have called you sooner.” It was best to go ahead and rip the bandaid off now and get this conversation out of the way. “I’m sorry, I wanted to but I couldn’t.”

“Why not?” you asked, leaning against the passenger side door as you looked at him. Despite your eagerness to get out of Family Video with him, he could see that you weren’t going to just let him not explain why he hadn’t talked to you. Not that he was going to leave you hanging like that anyway. 

“My phone blew up.” Eddie said bluntly. 

“Your phone blew up? Like... actually exploded?” you asked, trying to see if he was fucking with you. 

“Remember that huge storm a few weeks ago? Turns out that old trailers don’t exactly have the best wiring sometimes so when lightning strikes it knocks out power for a few days and fries some important wires.” he explained. “So... yeah, we just got a new phone today and when I tried to call...”

“So, I didn’t answer my phone so you decided to track me down?” There was amusement in your voice which he took as a good sign. “Seems like you could have done that part earlier. I’m not hard to find.” 

“I’m not exactly interested in stalking.” Eddie snorted. “I’m already on enough people's shitlist in town.”

“Oh, you’re no fun.” you laughed. “You know where I live, you could have shown up at my doorstep in the rain or used random phones around town to leave weird messages about how you can’t stop thinking about me or sent me letters with cryptic meanings.”

“Where do you come up with these things?” Eddie laughed, feeling the tension between the two of you start to dissipate. 

“I read a lot of bodice-ripper books.” you shrugged. “Trashy romance novels are a guilty pleasure sometimes.” 

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a weirdo?” 

“Steve did about an hour ago when I suggested that Bozo the clown could be the shit out of Pennywise from It.” 

Eddie wasn’t sure what he expected you to say, but it wasn’t that. Every time you had shown up in his life, you had completely thrown him off. He was starting to suspect that no amount of “Munson Magic” was going to work on you. Not that he wanted to work his dad’s charm on you to begin with. 

What he really wanted to do at that moment was ask you about your little bet with Steve. No, wait, not a bet. A deal? Maybe he should have asked Dustin more questions, or at least waited until after Hellfire to talk to the kid- 

”So what’s the plan?” You broke through his thoughts once again. “You show up out of nowhere and have me get into your unmarked van to take me to a second location... is there a second location in mind?”

There wasn’t, Eddie really hadn’t thought that far ahead.He’d panicked after his talk with Wayne and had shown up to Family Video on the chance that you’d been there. He’d run straight out the door with every intention of finding you and let you know that he was stupid for not trying harder to call you before. 

”I figured we could just... drive.” He wished he could ignore the sudden parallel between you and Paige. He wished that he could just forget about what happened in ‘84. Fuck, him and Paige never even had an official date, only hooking up in his van for a few weeks before everything blew up. 

Wait, was this a date? Crap, that had been the plan right? Show up, ask you on a date and then... then he’d be on a date. What the FUCK was he actually doing? He was acting so fucking awkward now- everything had been easier before. Why did Dustin have to open his big mouth about this?

“Just driving sounds great.” you said, and Eddie once again tried to relax. Every girl he had been with had wanted something from him. Nicole Summers and Cass Finnigan just wanted bragging rights that they got with the freak, and Paige had wanted him to be a rock hero. What did you want from him?

“Have you eaten?” It wasn’t exactly late, but it wasn’t really early in the evening either. His uncle always asked him that whenever one of them got home, and it had taken Eddie an embarrassingly long time to realize that it was Wayne’s way of showing that he cared. 

“I could eat.” you replied, which at least gave this... whatever this was, some structure for the night. Eddie didn’t have a lot of cash on him, but he could probably scrape together enough to get you each a burger or something. 

When the Iron Maiden tape clicked off and spat itself out, you took it upon yourself to pull it out and look it over. “Got any other tapes in here? I need to judge your music taste.” 

That made Eddie laugh “You and every other person in this town. I have a few more tapes in here.” He tapped on the center console which you eagerly dug into, flipping through the different cassettes with eagerness. 

“Metal. Metal. Metal. Metal.” You said, going through each cassette one by one. “I’m starting to see a pattern here, Eddie.” 

“What gave it away?” He said deadpan. “Was it that I play guitar or the fact that we’ve only bonded over music so far?”

“And Chris Morrison.”

“And Chris Morrison.”

“It was your hair, actually. You look so much like Eddie Van Halen it’s actually uncanny.” You looked up from the tapes and he could feel your eyes studying his face. He was glad that it was dark out now, as he could feel warmth rising in his cheeks at the comparison. Was that a compliment? Were you into him looking like Van Halen? 

“Van Halen?” Eddie asked. “I figured I was more of a Kirk Hammett type.”

“The hair yes,” you agreed, still staring at his face as he continued to drive. “But your smile is definitely more Van Halen.”

When was the last time someone had ever looked at him with that much consideration before? Something in Eddie’s gut twisted as he glanced over at you for a split second to meet your eyes. Huh, that was weird. Had anyone made him nervous like this before? Yeah he’d been attracted to Paige but this was starting to feel different. 

He really needed a cigarette right about now. 

“I hope that’s a compliment.” Eddie managed to say as he fumbled for the packet of Camels in the cupholder by him. 

“Oh, it is. I promise.” you replied, digging out a lighter and helping him light the smoke in his mouth. The world's tiniest supernova...

Eddie hated that the closest thing he had to compare notes on when it came to a healthy romance was two months with Paige and a handful of movies that he barely watched. 

You went back to his tapes, and seemed to pick one out. You removed the tape that had been spat out, put it back in the appropriate case (which Eddie found himself appreciating), and he was surprised to hear the old riffs of Muddy Waters playing. 

“A palate cleanser.” you said, leaning back into the passenger side seat. 

Eddie felt his mind reeling from your choice of music. Muddy Waters had been how his mom introduced him to rock at a young age. The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the well loved tape as he pulled into the drive in of the next fast food joint he’d seen. 

When he pulled up to the window to pay, a fresh ten was shoved in his face before he could even reach for his own wallet. It took a moment for him to realize that you were wanting to pay. 

“You got me out of work early, it’s the least I can do.” you said, not giving him the option to say no as cash was exchanged for a bag of questionable but cheap food. You held the bag in your lap as Eddie started making his way out of town. 

“So is this an ‘eating van’ or a ‘non-eating van’?” you asked, messing with the top of the bag. 

“I think I’d starve if I didn’t eat in here.” Eddie snorted. “Knock yourself out.”

You wasted no time digging into the fries and taking a few for yourself as Eddie went to the only place that he could afford to take you right now that might be date worthy. 

Luckily, Lover’s Lake was quiet and private on weeknights. If Eddie had taken two minutes to plan this better, he would have thought to maybe clear out the back of his van and set out a blanket and have a picnic. When it came to music and D&D he was great at planning out details, with dates? Not so much. 

This isn’t a date. He reminded himself for the hundredth time tonight. She’s just a girl that you ran over to spend time with the second it occurred to you that she might have an interest in you and she really willingly hopped in your van and your friends actually like her-

Shit. This had to be a date right? Neither of you had said the word but that’s what it was... right? 

Eddie was snapped out of his thoughts with the sweet smell of hot potatoes and grease was wafting under his nose. You had shoved a few fries in front of his face and Eddie wasted no time in taking them. You continued to absently feed him fries as he found a spot to park.

The two of you divided up the food on his dashboard, and Eddie rolled down the windows to let the cool autumn air in. 

“So... what are you gonna be for Halloween?” Eddie asked, wincing internally. When was the last time anyone he knew had dressed up for Hallowen? Okay, so Hellfire Club did tend to dress up on Halloween for a special one shot but that was different- no one came to school in costumes anymore.

“It depends on my plans.” you answered. “Halloween is on a Thursday so I’m usually working. If I have a morning shift I’ll probably do zombie makeup for work, if Steve and Robin are working with me that day I think we’re gonna attempt to be Luke, Leia, and Hans.” 

“And are you gonna be Leia?” Eddie asked. 

“Ideally, I wanted to be Chewie but I don’t have the time for that.” you laughed. “Robin and I voted on Steve to Be Leia. Robin will be Luke, and I’ll be Hans Solo with a teddy bear.”

“Please tell me that Harrington isn’t going to be in the bikini.” Eddie laughed. 

“Keith said costumes had to be work appropriate so, sadly, Steve will not be gracing the store with his sweater-vest chest hair under a bra.” You sighed dramatically. “It’s like he hates the idea of us having fun!” 

“What if you have to close?” Eddie prompted, adjusting in his seat to lean against the door to face you as best he could. Next time he was absolutely clearing out the back to give you both more room. 

“Oh, I am not closing.” you said firmly. “And if Keith thinks he can schedule me that day he can suck it because I have plans.” 

You already have Halloween plans. Of course you would. It’s not like you had to worry about school on a weekday like he did. Eddie tried not to deflate in front of you and remained calm. 

“And what plans would that be?” he asked. 

“Have you ever seen The Rocky Horror Picture Show?” you asked, a smile tugging at your lips. 

He had, once, with Reefer Rick a few months ago when picking up his usual supply. A quick pick up had turned into a game of pool, which had turned into the two of them high on Rick’s couch watching an old VHS tape while Rick laughed his ass off and yelled at the tv before passing out in the middle of Tim Curry seducing Brad and Janet. 

“Once.” Eddie said, not giving the exact details of circumstance. “With a friend, I didn’t really get it.” 

“Did you see it in theaters or did you just watch it at home?” you asked, finishing off your food. 

“Friend’s house.” 

“Oh, no wonder you didn’t get it. Rocky Horror is an experience, you can’t just pop the tape in and watch it. You have to come see it in a theater.” As you spoke you were absently folding a napkin in your lap turning it into what looked like a heart. When you were done with that one, you started with another shape with a different napkin. 

“Is that an invitation?” Eddie asked, tearing his eyes away from the way your fingers moved for now. He found his heart pounding in his chest, unsure if you were actually wanting him to come to this, and from the knot forming in his stomach as the shapes you were folding reminded him of the times he met you before. 

“It is.” you confirmed, the ninja star you had shaped with the napkin was placed on the center console as you grabbed another napkin. “...It could also be a date.” 

Despite the period at the end of the sentence, Eddie heard the slight waiver in your voice on the word date. It was that same nervous stammer that had been in Paige’s voice when she offered to let him move in with her in California, it was the same hesitant inflection that one of his Hellfire players used when they weren’t sure if Eddie would approve of what crazy plan they had for their character. 

Aside from that first awkward meeting at the Palace Arcade, you had been pretty confident and upfront with him. Now here you are, laying out your intentions and seeing what he would do. 

What would he do? Eddie had shown up at Family Video with no real plan. He only knew he wanted to see you again, and he knew that Dustin and Steve were trying to set you two up. And it’s not like Eddie was completely against the idea of going on a date with you. You were sharp, and you kept him on his toes, and when you smiled at him it felt like his brain might short out. 

But he had also panicked when he had thought that you were going to kiss him before. After Eddie’s disastrous break up with Paige two years ago, it’s not like he’d been completely against any physical relationships. There had been a grand total of two other hook ups that he’d sabotaged. People weren’t interested in getting to know the freak, they just wanted to say that they had been with him. So both times, Eddie had made sure that he’d been a lousy date and a decent enough lay before deciding that he’d rather had a date with his right hand and a Heavy Metal magazine.

Eddie would rather the rumor mill call him a boring date rather than set a standard that he’d go out with anyone who asked. He wondered if he had, would Steve have put his name on the town marquis for the world to see? Would Eddie ‘the Slut’ Munson be treated any differently than Eddie ‘the Freak’?

Shit, you were still waiting for a response. 

“A date.” Eddie finally managed to echo your last words back at you. The napkin you had been messing with in your hands was now taking the shape of a ninja star. 

“I mean, if you’re interested.” you said quickly. “It could just be a friend thing. Or you probably already have plans for Halloween-”

“I don’t.” Eddie interjected. “It could be a date.”

He watched your shoulders relax and you smiled up at him. “It’s a date then.” You grabbed a napkin and your green marker out of your bag and scribbled something down, handing it over to him. 

“In case your phone blows up again, here is the date and time and location for the Halloween showing of the movie.” your eyes narrowed slightly at him. “And my work schedule has been hectic but I consistently work on Sunday’s and clock out at four.”

Eddie got the message loud and clear, he would know where to find you now. There wouldn’t be any excuses for not reaching out, but two could play at this game. He took the marker from your hand and grabbed his own napkin, scribbling his own phone number down and handing it over to you. 

“I’m at school all week, but I still play at the Hideout on Tuesdays.” He answered back. “Friday is Hellfire.”

With that, the playing field felt a little more level. Both of you now had the power to track the other one down or call when needed.   

“So what are you going to be for Halloween?” you asked, tucking the napkin with his number into your bog. 

“Oh, haven’t you heard? When you’re the town freak every day is Halloween.” Eddie chuckled. 

“So what, you’re gonna put on a polo and khakis instead?” He liked the way you scrunch your nose when you laughed. “Ditch the jewelry and cover your tattoos?” 

“That would probably scare some of the teachers at school.” Eddie had considered doing exactly that, but he really didn’t think he’d want that kind of attention. “No one dresses up at school anymore.”

“Boring.” You sighed. “I tried dressing up for Halloween my senior year but when I got to school my friends convinced me to change clothes.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “You don’t seem like the type to let other people tell you what to do.” 

“Now I’m not.” you shrugged. “I’m not in high school anymore, and all those people that I saw everyday? Turns out I was only friends with them because I saw them every day. Once you get away from that forced routine you realize that it’s all bullshit.”

Eddie could relate, probably better than anyone else. He was so sick of the day to day hierarchy of highschool that he’d scream it from on top of a table. Literally. 

“What were you trying to be before your friends killed your fun?” Eddie asked. 

“A pirate. It was last minute but I had a bandana, an eyepatch, a sock puppet with feathers glued to it for my parrot, and a wire hanger I was carrying around as a hook.” you laughed at the memory. “I ended up dropping the eyepatch before my friends made me change because I kept running into people. My wire hanger was confiscated, some asshat stole my parrot, and one of my friends gave me a sweater to change into. I didn’t even make it to first period in that outfit.”

Eddie had made it a point to not pay attention to anyone outside of his small group at school, only ever keeping an eye out for lost sheep that didn’t have anywhere else to go. He wondered, if he had seen you that morning in the brief window before you were pushed back into conformity would he have noticed you? Talked to you? You had already been nice to him before. 

“Wait,” Eddie over at you, taking in the picture you had painted for him. “You made a sock puppet parrot?”

“I needed a parrot, or else no one would get it!” you explained. “But then when I took it off and left it to go use the bathroom it was gone. I finally found the thief in fourth period because they kept playing with it and squawking my own parrot at me. But by that point I had just cut my losses and had given up on Halloween.”

“Are you usually this crafty?” Eddie asked, once again looking at the final napkin you were folding into what looked like an old cootie catcher. 

“I get bored easily.” you said. “If I don’t have something to do with my hands I can’t focus.”

“How’d you start with the whole-” Eddie grabbed one of his slightly used napkins and gave it a wave. “Folding thing?”

“Fourth grade show and tell.” you said. “I did not prepare anything and so I spent a full ten minutes in the school library to find something to show. I found a book on origami, found the easiest thing to make and realized that I actually enjoyed it.”

If that was a mystery, it sure did get solved right there. Eddie wanted to ask about Steve and Dustin. He wanted to ask you why him? He could keep his mouth shut, let this whole thing play out and see what happened. Eddie could sit here, and enjoy the fact that a girl was giving him the time of day and leave everything up in the air just like he had with Paige. 

“So I heard you and Steve had a deal going on.” Eddie said. “Something about getting dates?”

You froze for a second, the completed cootie catcher in your hands. Things were dead silent for a grand total of ten seconds. Ten agonizingly long seconds. Even the cassette player had clicked off and was now whirring as it rewind the Iron Maiden tape. 

Then you started laughing. A lot. 

“Jesus, Eddie!” you said, wiping your eyes with the ninja star as a tear threatened to spill down your cheek. “I tell you I have origami as a hobby, and you follow up with ‘So I heard you and Steve are trying to get dates.’ Seriously?”

Eddie remained silent at your reaction, trying to process your laughter. You didn’t seem scared or nervous that he had called you out, and he had to admit that he hadn’t completely thought through the consequences of asking you that question. 

“Who blabbed?” You asked, after your laughter had calmed down. 

“Henderson.” Eddie admitted and, in an attempt to ease any lingering tension he leaned forward to rest his elbow on the center console and held his chin in his hand as he looked at you. “That shrimp informed me that you found me so irresistible that you begged Steve to set you up with me.”

“Is that right?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Oh yeah,” Eddie agreed. “Told me all about how ever since Chris Morrison shot you down, you’ve been desperate to get my attention to get back at him.”

“So which is it, am I attracted to you or am I using you to get back at a guy I talked to once in high school years ago?” you asked. Eddie saw a glint in your eyes, the same one he’d seen that first night at the arcade when at the air hockey table. 

“Both are true.” Eddie continued to explain, a shit eating grin on his face. “You see, you were originally going to use me to get back at Chris, but then you saw me play guitar and instantly fell in love.”

“Damn, this sounds like the plot of a terrible movie.” you laughed. “So is this the part where I tell you that ‘It started out like that, but I swear it’s not like that anymore!’? Do I beg on my knees that my feelings for you are genuine, even though we’ve hung out a grand total of two-and-a-half times?”

Five times, but who’s counting? 

“What’s the half-time?” Eddie asked. 

“You ditched me at the arcade after I said I’d be right back.” you stated matter-of-factly. “I’m hoping it’s not a pattern where you start dropping off the face of the earth just when things start getting good.”

“Between you and me,” Eddie leaned in closer. “I thought Dustin was trying to set me up with Steve. Not you.” 

Cue more laughter from you as you threw your head back. “Are you kidding me?! Dustin makes me and Steve show up to an arcade and tries to force a meeting with you- and you thought you were supposed to be dating Steve?!” 

“Not dating!” Eddie clarified quickly. “You see, Steve and I only have one thing in common and that’s Dustin Henderson. Kid practically worships Steve. I thought he was trying to get us to be friends or something.”

“Oh my god, you thought Dustin was trying to hook his two dads up!” Your cootie catcher was now crumpled up in your hands, stained with tears from your laughing. “I’m a homewrecker!” 

Yeah, this really wasn’t going the way Eddie had expected it. 

“Shit, Eddie, I’m sorry.” you said, your laughter calming down into giggles instead. “Have I been reading this whole thing wrong? I mean, if you have more of an interest in Steve I could probably set that up. He’s only ever shown interest in girls but you have long hair and are pretty enough-”

“No.” Eddie said. “I don’t have an interest in Steve- you think I’m pretty?” How were you able to throw him off so easily? He could tell that if you had been able to join Hellfire you would have been a menace at his table.

“Extremely.” you said, your voice more sincere now. 

The two of you just stared at each other for a while and Eddie felt that same twisty feeling in his gut again. You thought he was pretty. That was good, right? Did you like pretty boys? You were pretty- he liked that a lot. 

“I...” Eddie started and then dug deep inside himself to find the words he wanted to use. “Prettier than Steve?” Those were not the words he wanted to say, but he said them anyway. 

“Steve is conventionally attractive but, as I said before, not my type.” you said. “I like guys with long hair anyway.”

Eddie really couldn’t tell if he was nailing this or blowing it. “So, what is your type?” 

“I’ll tell you mind if you tell me yours.” you countered. 

Had Eddie ever really thought about what his type was? Yeah, he’d had ill-advised crushes and had been attracted to various women in comics and tv but did he have a type? He tried to connect all the girls in his mind that he’d been with, trying to find a pattern. 

Someone who actually pays attention to me. That’s pretty sad, Eddie. He came to the conclusion. Yeah, aside from his disastrous kiss with Ronnie five years ago, every girl he’d been with had been the one to show interest first, and you were no exception. But had he actually had feelings for the others? Not really. Attraction? Yeah. Feelings? Well, with Paige he had been far too busy dealing with Corroded Coffin, his dad, and school to really decide what he felt for Paige. Any other small flings had been dead on arrival.

So why did he keep wanting to spend time with you?

“Don’t go spreading this around,” Eddie started. “But if I had to pick a type, it’d be She-Hulk.” 

“She-Hulk?” you mulled that over in your mind. “So tall, green, and angry?” 

“Strong-willed, and funny as shit.” Eddie corrected. 

“And green.”

“And green.” 

“If I had known that earlier I would have picked Kermit the Frog as my Halloween costume this year.” you teased. “I don’t have a character off the top of my head, but I like people who feel.. Real.”

Real. The word that Paige and him had used over and over in those two months. 

“What’s real to you?” 

“Not high school.” you said. “Someone who’s not afraid to exist and be themselves. I’m most attracted to anyone who can let go of their desperate ego and just have fun. High school was boring because everyone was so wrapped up in their own bs of looking cool that they didn’t do anything that they actually wanted to do. Shit, even I fell into that.”

Eddie didn’t want to ask if he was real to you. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for an answer. There were lots of times he wished that he wasn’t still in school, but this time really hit harder. He was starting to really like you, and yeah part of him was terrified of that. 

The two of you finished off the last of your food and Eddie shoved all the leftover trash into the brown bag and tossed it in the back so you wouldn’t be stepping on it. 

“I don’t know much about real anymore, but I think you’re pretty badass.” Eddie finally said. “I mean, you brought a wire hanger and a fake parrot to school for a costume. That’s pretty brave, even if your friends did talk you out of it.”

“I’m more mad that the parrot was stolen and used to annoy me than the lack of costume.” you said with a small laugh. “They weren’t even funny. They just kept repeating what I said. It was easier to just shut up at that point.” 

“Didn’t think to make them say anything embarrassing?” 

“Oh, I tried. But, jocks don’t know the art of a good ‘Duck Season, Rabbit Season’ gag. Anything embarrassing I said they’d just turn it around. I’d say ‘I pissed myself in gym.’ they’d reply with ‘you pissed yourself in gym’. No love for comedy.” You took a deep breath and let out a long sigh. “If you’re going to be a bully, at least give me a good story to tell later, you know?”

“I once got slammed against a locker by a jock who called me ‘a myriad freak.” Eddie said. “To this day, I still don’t know what he was trying to mean by that.”

“See? At least that’s funny.” you said, and then. “Holy shit, we’ve gotten off topic.” 

“There was a topic?” Eddie leaned back on the seat again. 

“Yes, an important one that I was very interested in before we started talking about bullies and high school and She-Hulk.” you nodded. 

Talking to you was so easy that he hadn’t realized how many topics the two of you had blown through in a short amount of time. He looked at his watch real quick and realized it was creeping towards 11 pm now. Had the two of you really been talking that long?

“What topic was it?” 

“You flirting with me.” you said, your lips pulling back in a cheshire grin. “I’m pretty sure you were at least, before I became a homewrecker between you and Steve. Normally I’d hate to break up a happy family, but I might have to make an exception this one time.”

“Was I flirting?” Eddie tilted his head with his own grin. “I’m pretty sure I was just telling you that I thought Dustin was trying to make me be friends with Steve. If I had known that the shrimp was trying to introduce me to a cute girl-” He would have shot it down and canceled Side Quest Day- “I wouldn’t have left the way I did.”

“You think I’m cute?” 

“Extremely.” 

You nodded. “Alright, then it’s a good thing that we’re going on a date. I’m glad to know that I’m not coming between you and Steve.”

It was just past midnight when Eddie dropped you off at your apartment that night. This time when you leaned over the center console towards him, he didn’t freeze up or panic. Eddie let you hug him and he hugged you back, his cheeks growing hot momentarily when he felt your lips press against his cheek and he was able to breathe in your scent. 

“See you later, Eddie. Oh, and for the movie- I highly recommend dressing up.” you looked him up and down. “Actually, just wear what you’d normally wear. I think you’ll fit right in.” 

Eddie made a mental note to ask Rick later on what he was supposed to wear for this. 

“I’ll call you.” he said. “I promise. I mean it this time.”

“Not if I call you first, I have your number now. And worst case scenario, I know where you play.” you responded. “See you Tuesday, Eddie.” 

And with that you were gone again, leaving Eddie alone in the van feeling much better than the last time he had given you a ride. There were still questions he had. He still wanted to know why exactly everyone was wanting the two of them to meet again, and why you always so readily agreed to meet up with him. But those were questions for another day. 

“You had a missed call.” Wayne said as Eddie made his way into the trailer. “Didn’t leave a name or number. Said she’d call you back.”  

Eddie laughed and shook his head, guess you meant it when you said you’d call first. 

“Don’t stay up too late watching tv.” Eddie said before heading towards his bedroom. He once again found himself falling asleep with his copy of The Hobbit, the origami flower tucked safely in the back. 

Next Chapter

Ending note: This fic takes place during October 1985. Stephen King’s It did not come out until September 1986. I would like to ask you all politely to suspend your disbelief for the historical inaccuracy of a piece of dialogue that probably didn’t add much to the plot. If this horrible inaccuracy bothers you, please repeat to yourself “it’s just a fic, I should really just relax” which is what most of us should be doing anyway.

Dividers by: @strangergraphics

Tag List: @k8loo @terrormonster55 @sp1dyb0y1008 @crocwork-clockodile @ali-r3n @mxcheese @josephquinnschesthair @gagasbee @peaches-roses-sins @witchwolflea @vintagehellfire @royale1803 @cumslutforaemond @prestinalove @browneyedgirl320 @perpetualmess @thebook-hobbit @mistonk @cultish-corner @grishaversecaptivated @sortagaysortahigh @halialex1119 @bakugouswhOr3 @siriuslysmoking @pookiesnatcher @sky-full-0f-fl0wers @takemetoneverlandbabe @killjoynotes @maelibo

[anxiouseldergod]

hiii I love the premise of your au ✨️

I was wondering about a couple things..

1. is grim part of it?

2. what about ace and Deuce? what do they do? I think it would cute if they were still super close to reader (I'm totally NOT a huge fan of the heartshackle dynamic /s)

I wrote way more on this then I meant to lmao

While I do intend for this to be an x reader series thingy, this is more of a "how you met" scenario, so it doesn't really have any romance.

It's kind of long, so it's all below the cut!

I had planned to include Grim in my post going over my au, actually! I ended up writing it in the middle of the night though and completely forgot to add him there lol

In my au, Grim lives with the reader as their familiar! Maybe it's an overused trope to make him their familiar in au's, but I have this cute image in my head of him trying to help around both the shops.

struggling to reach certain shelves to fill them with books of magical items, napping on the counters next to you while you're working, going out with you while collect herbs...

I adore my dumbass son.

as for adeuce? I feel like they would be regular customers at the magic shop, always stocking up on healing items.

I see them as rookie (but surprisingly successful) adventurers.

They were trained by family members, Ace learned from his older brother and Deuce from his mom (a now retired adventurer).

They ended up joining the same guild, Heartslabyul, which is based in one of the cities nearby.

As the two newest members, they often get paired up together, much to their dismay.

I feel like they heard rumors of the magic shop in the woods and got curious, wanting to know if it was actually real.

So, they set out, going deeper and deeper into the dark woods. Just when they thought maybe it wasn't real, they stumbled across you.

They were certainly surprised to find you living in the woods with just your familiar to keep you company.

Entering your shop, they were immensely disappointed to see a bookstore instead of a magic shop.

You greet them politely, smiling from behind the counter.

"Welcome! Feel free to look around, let me know if you need anything."

While neither of them are at all interested in the books you have, they decide to look around anyway. They came all this way, after all.

The two boys disappear from you line of sight, conversing quietly as they browse the shelves despite their lack of interest. Grim looks up from the can of tuna he was eating, ear twitching as he stares in their direction curiously.

After finishing his snack, Grim wanders away from you, toward where the two had gone. He weaves through the maze of shelves, peeking out from behind one. He watches the boys argue quietly.

"No, I told you it wasn't real! But you just had to come see!"

"What? How is this my fault? You wanted to come too.."

The back and forth continues for a moment as Grim watches from the side. The whole scene is greatly amusing to him and, without realizing, he lets out a small laugh.

Ace and Deuce pause in their useless bickering, turning to stare at the laughing creature. They look thoroughly confused by him, clearly never having seen anything like him. Ace speaks up first.

"Hang on, is that weird cat laughing at us–"

Grim's face immediately changes as the fire coming from his ears burns a little brighter. He stomps his little foot, tail swishing angrily.

"I am NOT a cat!"

The boys jump a bit, deuce accidentally backing into the bookshelf behind him.

"Why can it talk?!" He shouts, before seemingly remembering the sign that told him to keep quiet. He tries again, whisper shouting this time. "Why can it talk?!"

Grim looks even more upset at this. "Why can you talk? Clearly you don't have anything smart to say!"

Ace laughs at this, snorting before covering his mouth in an attempt to hide his amusement. Deuce notices this and elbows him.

Grim turns to Ace, hands on his hips as he speaks to him. "You don't seem much smarter, you know."

Now, Ace is upset. He yells at Grim, not worried about keeping his voice down. "What would some ugly kitten know about me anyway?"

Grim is even more offended now. In his upset, he gets the bright not idea to scare the two with with his fire magic. He breathes a blue flames toward them, successfully scaring them like he had intended.

However, he didn't account for Deuce's reaction.

"I summon thee, cauldron!"

A large cauldron comes crashing down from seemingly nowhere. It hits the bookshelf beside them and sends it crashing to the ground,

Grim manages to mostly avoid the disaster, but ends up getting his tail smashed by a stray book. A rather large one too. He yelps in pain, shooting more fire magic out reflexively.

Ace and Deuce look on in horror as the book shelf falls over completely, Grim's flames catching on the books. The smoke builds up around them, making it hard to see.

Suddenly, the fire is put out all at once.

As the smoke clears, the three of them see you angry face as you survey the damage they caused.

Grim scrambles behind your legs, holding his sore tail and glaring at the adventurers.

Deuce is practically tripping over himself trying to apologize, but is abruptly stopped as you inspect the cauldron on the ground.

"You use magic?"

You can see the color drain from their faces at your question. Their both stammering, coming up with lame excuses or trying to change the subject.

Ace is sure you'll snitch about Deuce's magic, and he'll get busted for keeping it a secret. He's (overly) confident that he can escape the law if he has to, but he's more worried about how his brother will react.

Deuce is sure he'll never go another quest, then he'll never achieve his dream of becoming a legendary adventurer! He can already see his mother's disappointed face when she hears that her only son was locked up due to illegal use of summoning magic. Which is why he's so confused when he hears you laugh.

"What a terrible display! You're not very experienced are you?" You say, a smile growing on you face. You turn to Ace. "I'm assuming you use it too, right? Actually, no need to answer, I can sense your magic energy."

Grim looks up at you incredulously. "Why are ya laughin'? Aren't ya gonna tear into 'em for the mess they made?"

You smile to yourself, closing your eyes as you think for a moment. "Oh, you're all in trouble, Grim. But I think this might actually work in my favor."

You turn back to Ace and Deuce, who stand there in confusion. "You were here looking for The Moon's Alcove, right? Come with me!"

Bewildered, the boys and Grim follow you from the chaos of your destroyed bookshelf. They watch as you unlock the door in the back. You lead them through it, into your magic shop while ignoring their awed expressions.

"Here it is!" You exclaim, arms out as you gesture to your secret shop. "I run the place. Here lately I've had more customers than usual. It's difficult for me to mange the shops and gather materials for potions and other items. Obviously, I can't trust Grim to go alone."

Your familiar makes an offended sound from beside your feet.

"As payment for the damage you've caused here today, I'd like the two of you to gather my materials." You explain.

"Like, a job?" Ace asks, sneering at the thought of extra work.

"Mhm! Should be easy since adventurers like you are always exploring and foraging anyway. I'll even pay you, you'll get extra if you can find me some magical items or artifacts."

Deuce puts his hand to chin, looking around the colorful shop as muses aloud. "I mean, if it keeps us out of trouble..."

You clap your hands together, magic flying from them in little sparkles due to your excitement. "I would never snitch! I'm in no position to anyway. So, do we have a deal?"

The boys look to each other, shrugging as they come to a silent conclusion.

"I guess?"

"Great!" You clap again. "I actually forgot to mention something though, since this is to repay me for the damage to my precious books, I actually won't be paying you the firs two weeks."

"What?!" They exclaim in unison.

Ace crosses his arms. "Repayment of not, what makes you think we'll do this for free? What if we just run off and don't come back, huh?"

Before they can complain further, you take a small pouch from your pocket. Carefully, you pour a small amount of red powder into you hand and then toss it into the air above their heads. It drifts down onto them as you say a few mysterious words with your hands clasped together, they glow slightly.

"There! Now if you try to weasel out of this, your heads will explode!"

The boys look horrified at this statement, backing away from you quickly. Ace takes back his previous words, assuring you he they'll do their job well.

Eventually, a few more terms are worked out between you and them and they leave. It's agreed that they'll spend the next few days searching for the materials you listed and then bring them to you at a specific date.

Not long after they leave does it begin to grow dark out. You sit on your bed, gently applying a mild healing ointment to Grim's sore tail.

After a moment of silence, he speaks. "Are ya really gonna explode their heads if they don't listen?"

You laugh, shaking your head. "Of course not, that's way too far."

"Then what was that powder you put on 'em?"

"Paprika."

[nyarumie]

Brains to Brawn. (Chapter 2)

narumi gen x f!reader — 2.9k words, co-workers to lovers, narumi loves kisses, multiple parts, semi canon compliant, in denial reader.

STATUS: Ongoing. Chapter links: 1, 2, 3

Author's Note at the end! Likes, Reblogs, and Comments are also appreciated; Happy reading ♡

Cross-posted on ao3.

Requests, prompts, or any messages are appreciated! Just open my ask box.

"Y'know, I'd almost like to take you in as my officer right now. But numbers are just numbers. Get what I mean?" 

"...What?" you felt like your head was going to crack into pieces any time soon, and the Captain isn't even here yet! What was he even doing here? How can he say that without even sparing a glance at you? He's talking as if you're a new breed of officer! Even more, how does he not recognize your voice?!

Finally gaining some composure to speak, you sat up and started, "With all due respect, I'm an operations manager. I have no interest in becoming an officer, and I value my job beyond my own life. Besides, I doubt the Captain would approve such a shift in the workforce—" 

"That's not for you to decide. Kurusu, pull up the numbers again." you froze in place, eyes wide again. You felt your mouth go dry as the current First Division Captain himself, Isao Shinomiya, arrived swiftly.

A snort came from the doorway, taking your attention. Platoon Leader Narumi lazily made his way over one of the stools, crossing his legs, still engrossed in his mobile game.

It's not like you can do anything else in this situation, and you can't even hear Kurusu and the Captain's conversation. Ultimately deciding to just observe the Platoon Leader, thoughts started flooding your brain. 

'That bastard! He didn't even bother hiding his snort! Does he even have the authority to be here? Was he just loitering around? I'm sure this is just plain entertainment to him, but he's not even paying attention to anything except for his boring ass game! I wouldn't be in this situation if it weren't for him… and my co-workers!'

A voice shook you out of your thoughts. "With how hard you're gripping that gun and glaring daggers at me, I would've thought you wanted to kill me." Narumi said, surprisingly sounding nonchalant.

Oh, the menace. Is he now bored with his game, deciding to pick on me instead?

"I don't even know how to use these. And again, I'm an operations manager! Yours, specifically!" you insisted, now pissed at how he's decided to finally give attention to anything other than his game. You held your tongue back from arguing further, not wanting to ruin your image in front of the Captain. Oh, you sure would love to get a long, quality sleep once this is over. 

Narumi finally turned to look at you from where he's lounging, quirking an eyebrow. "So you're the voice that keeps nagging at me during our neutralization operations?"

"Why, excuse me! I saved your impulsive ass several times with my 'nagging'! Shouldn't I get a thank you instead? You should be grateful for finally meeting the angel whispering in your damn ears!" you feel yourself getting even more impatient and uneasy, snapping at him unintentionally. The stress must be getting into you.

You almost forgot about Kurusu and the Captain in the midst of your small rage, hearing footsteps approaching the protective glass. "Captain Shinomiya would like to make a deal with you." It was Kurusu who spoke this time.

A deal…? 

Isao Shinomiya focused on you with a steady, serious gaze. "Join the Defense Force Neutralization Unit. A proposal will be sent to you later within the day, taking into consideration your position in the Operations Unit. I am expecting an answer in 3 days' time." 

He made a motion to leave the room, "Our nation needs both your intelligence and strength. Show us results, and the deal will go through." he departed shortly after.

Unbelievable. He left before you can even comprehend what he said! But he's a busy man, alright… 

You stood up and detached the sensors attached to your body, making your way back to Kurusu. Damn, your legs feel like jelly. With slow, weak strides, you finally reached Kurusu in the monitoring area. 

"Oi." 

You jumped, forgetting about the presence of another person. Still feeling a bit overwhelmed, you raise your eyebrow at him, silently asking what it is that he wants now. Not that he can see you, though; he's still into his game.

"Show great results and I'll have you transferred to my Platoon."

"... Don't be stupid. I already said I'm not an Officer." Besides, you know very well how he does things in battle. Each Platoon Leader gets assigned their very own Operations Manager, and you just so happened to be assigned to him. He prefers going solo all the way, as if he's a Kaiju killing machine (he, in fact, is one). You'll just end up being one of the rookie officers standing around awkwardly while he gets things done.

"What's stupid," He stood up, stretching while still holding his phone in one hand. "Is doing nothing with those numbers. And refusing to be a part of my elite platoon. And I'm not stupid! I was an academic achiever, just so you know!" pointing an offended finger at you.

…And he just walked off. At least he acknowledged your potential power, and that's extremely rare. But only because of your potential aptitude for Kaiju no. 3. Which you don't have any plans of doing something about it. Yet.

"If it were any other superior, you would've been really fired on the spot. Didn't know you have quite the guts to call a Platoon Leader stupid." said Kurusu.

You mumbled a half-hearted apology to Kurusu, "Not like it matters to him anyway…" you said. You've argued with Narumi over comms during battle despite not knowing you. Surely, something as small as calling him stupid is nothing.

"You should go back to your station. Not a word of this to the other operators, the information should come from HQ themselves—unless you accept the to-be-finalized proposal." he said.

"So… my afternoon shift—" 

He instantly gave you a deadpanned look. Alright, no skipping work today. Which is quite fair enough, you unintentionally gave him another job to deal with, after all.

With a dampened mood and head occupied, you start walking back to your work station.

Your afternoon shift was surprisingly normal and peaceful. Concerned glances were thrown your way by your friends when you went back to work, the slightly uncharacteristic silence bothering them. Not that you were noisy per se, but you're working on one report to another rapidly. To them, you’re in distress; but to you, you couldn’t be more glad and at peace to just go back to your respectful, ordinary work, ready to reject the proposal from your Division Captain any time soon.

Unbeknownst to you, a certain Platoon Leader observed you in your ‘element’ through the horizontal glass pane from the door.

As Captain Shinomiya was drafting the proposal, an unannounced but familiar presence entered his office.

“Old man. Tell me, do you plan on assigning another yapper to me for our battles if she accepts the proposal? If so, I don’t need a voice screaming their ass off in my ears. I don’t want to babysit a rookie either.”

The Captain mentally noted how subtly grumpy Narumi is. "Each deployed officer is to be strictly monitored in battle. That's how we analyze your skills and determine if your results are worthy of representing the First Division." 

"You didn't answer my question."

"Narumi. Results are to be expected from you, regardless of who you're working with, or what you're doing on the battlefield. Do you understand?"

"...Whatever you say." he uncharacteristically departed back to his office without arguing back.

Of course. It never fully mattered to him who he worked with. He simply does what needs to be done and exceeds expectations "effortlessly". But that doesn't mean he never noticed.

All the previous operations managers assigned to him filed an official request to be transferred to another officer. He expected you to file a transfer request after the first few missions of being assigned to him, but you ultimately decided to stick with him to give his ears some beating through comms if you can't beat his ass in person. Sure, he found your nagging quite annoying, even telling you to shut up several times—in which you only screamed back at him, insisting you're just doing your job to keep him alive; but he'd be lying if he said he didn't find your reports beneficial.

Most post-battle reports written about him are more of a complaint than a feedback. The managers assigned to him would always give him a C to D grade for his performance, despite taking down the most destructive Kaiju on field. 'What's there to complain about when all Kaiju were neutralized?' he thinks. He stopped reading those, crumpling the papers and throwing them somewhere in his room. Besides, they didn't even bother giving any training routines on the suggestion box of the report, concluding that "he can deal with it by himself".

— A few months ago —

He thought his unleashed combat power would hit the wall at 71%. For a few months, no amount of training he came up with amplified his power. It was getting pretty frustrating, and even Hasegawa took note of how even more desperate and tired Narumi has been getting in the battlefield as Kaiju with higher fortitudes and unique traits keep emerging.

"You're not reading your reports." Hasegawa pointed out to him after an intense battle.

Narumi was sitting amidst the chaos, idly playing his portable console.

"So?" Yeah, it's not like he needed them anyway.

Hasegawa sighed. "The new operations manager assigned to you is as stubborn as you are. It's been 3 weeks, and she's pestering me to continue delivering reports to you. She knows you haven't been reading them. She refused to pester you herself, saying you might've had enough with her constant nagging during battles."

"Yeah, you're right. It's been too long, when is she filing a transfer request? My ears are about to blast with how much she's talking." Lie . He knows that he'll feel lonely if you file a request. He didn't even know you back then, but your presence in his earpiece is appreciated deep inside. He pretends to know everything about the battlefield thanks to Kaiju No. 1's retina, but it was because of your accurate and swift comms that he is able to plan steps ahead of the Kaiju.

"I take it you're not aware of your top performance rating in the entire Division for a whole month now?" Hasegawa guessed.

Huh?

Hold on. Not that it's supposed to surprise him—he knows he performs exceptionally well, despite what the old reports say about him. No matter how many Kaiju he kills, they all weren't reflected on his past ratings. He knows the results Captain Shinomiya wanted to see will never be reflected on any chart, so he didn't care that much. The ratings were just meant to motivate ordinary officers.

But the ratings were all subject to approval by the Analytics Department of each respective division. He doesn't know much, but each Operations Manager is to defend their reports about the officers they monitor. Which means… you defended him in front of all the scrutinizing gazes and judgmental minds of your peers. You fought for him, and only him. He's the only officer you handle due to his rank as Platoon Leader. He should be shrugging this off, but the thought of someone giving that much acknowledgement to him oddly feels comforting.

Narumi stands, dusting off his suit. "Will you be distributing them this week?" he hesitantly asked.

Hasegawa, sensing a change of mind in him, replied. "Of course. Let me know if you have any specific past reports you'd like to receive." Somehow, he always knows what's weighing in Narumi's head.

"All of them. The ones from her."

Maybe he was also just another ordinary officer, after all.

— Present day —

When he first started reading your reports, they were oddly short; but rather straight to the point. You analyzed his fighting style in accurate detail, as well as small habits he himself didn't realize during the heat of the battle. All the flaws and mishaps he made were not once accompanied by a complaint. No mentions of your arguments over comms were found either. Well, you did say communication and teamwork has a big room for improvement , followed by saying that it isn't a priority as he accomplished the mission in a heartbeat. You tried not to show it in your paper, but you're mostly concerned for his safety. 'So much for a person you haven't even met.' he thought. He wasn't a fan of reading these stuff, but yours is bearable.

What surprised him the most is the training routine you suggested. He can't believe you included his gaming sessions in the routine. They weren't required to follow the routine, they were only suggestions after all. But he can't help but follow them sometimes after seeing your little note at the end of the routine: "Goal: Assist Platoon Leader Narumi with his training to reach Captain rank."

Surprisingly enough, his unleashed combat power started rising in numbers again after occassionally following your suggested routine. As a Platoon Leader, he's now reached an 87%. No one's gonna give him these reports if you decide to be a Defense Force Officer. That's why he insisted on making you a member of his Platoon,  just in case.

Night time came and you retreated back to your room. The proposal never came whilst you were working, despite the Captain promising to deliver it within the day. 'Maybe he needed to revise it.' you thought.

You picked up a book as part of your nightly routine, reading different novels and papers to calm your mind to get some quality sleep. Just as you were about to get comfy in your bed, a soft knock was heard on your door.

You internally groaned as you opened the door, revealing Kurusu. It wasn't office hours, so you dropped your usual formality with him. "No. I don't want that. Good Night." you spoke before he can even wave the proposal right at your face, acting like you were gonna close the door on him.

"Wait! I promise you'll love this proposal." he said.

"And why do you say that?" 

He rubbed a hand on his nape, "... Salary adjustments?"

Now it was your turn to give him a deadpanned look.

Sighing, he said, "Look, just take the paper and give it a once-over, okay? Or maybe thrice. You were given three days to mull it over, anyway. It might not look like much, especially with the risk to your life on the battlefield, but, uhm… your interests are highly taken into consideration." He pushed the papers toward you, forcing you to hold it. "I'll be making my way now, then."

Motioning to close the door, you almost had a heart attack when you saw his arm suddenly slip right through the little space left between the door and frame.

His head poked inside your room again, "Ahem. I don't want to influence your decision or anything, but I'm speaking as both your boss and your friend. This very proposal changes everything you have right now, but it doesn't mean it's a bad thing. I think it will suit you just fine. You're above the average intelligent person, and you have a certain good kind of stubbornness in you that you have yet to realize." and with that, he waved you goodbye.

'What does stubbornness have to do with this? And I'm NOT stubborn at all!' you thought.

Instead of reading your beloved novel, you're sitting straight on your bed with the proposal right in your hands. 

As you read through it, you were able to gather these main points: 

It goes without saying, but apply as a Defense Force Officer and wield the Number 3 weapons.

Your rights and parts of your job as an Operations Manager will remain, such as writing reports and analysis of neutralization operations and Kaiju observations, regardless of whether you pass as an Officer or not.

"Great results" will give you three times the joint salary of an Operations Manager and an Officer, which may vary according to current position.

'Who the hell writes a proposal encompassing several pieces of paper, but has such a few main points?!' You were more pissed at how it was plainly written than the actual offer handed over to you. What's more is the fact that the section discussing financial terms was much longer than the risks involved! Did they really think you, a highly intelligent person, were that simple-minded? Money can't save your life in a battle!

"How much would the salary be if that was the case though…?" you mumbled to yourself. You pulled out your phone and did some calculations. If you were able to reach Platoon Leader in a short period, your salary would be…

"Half a billion?! That's impossible! Is the Defense Force even that rich to begin with?" You remember the mountains of packages delivered on a weekly basis, all addressed to Narumi. "Maybe it's possible after all…?"

After spending another hour thinking, you sighed, taking out your phone to draft your response.

To : First Division Captain Shinomiya Isao, First Division Operations Leader Kurusu Akira

Subject : Defense Force Application Proposal

As an honored member of the First Division and as a dedicated Operations Manager, I wholeheartedly accept the terms and conditions stated in the proposal.

Author's Note(s):

My head felt like I was floating and I barely had any sleep while writing this so I hope I didn't mess it up! I kinda got carried away and it became long.

i'm honestly just going with the flow and writing whatever feels right. I'm surprisingly having fun writing! But I wasn't sure of how I'd transition to Narumi's flashback, apologies for that part lol

Feedbacks are appreciated <3

[vanishingcherry]

Hi, could you please write a lando Norris fic with angst prompt 1 thank you 🥰

LOVE, OR LACK THEREOF

pairings: lando norris x reader

warnings: break up, implied drinking, kinda asshole lando at first

authors note: thanks for requesting! prompt 1 is "do you even love me anymore?" side note, it is so hard to find a gif of lando in which hes not smiling. also im so sorry for the ending i have no idea how to end angst

masterlist

๑ ⋆˚₊⋆────ʚ˚ɞ────⋆˚₊⋆ ๑

The two of you had fallen in love surprisingly fast, but the process of falling out was slow and torturous. Fate was cruel, adamant on hurting you.

Instead of late night talks, the two of you would sleep facing the wall, neither wanting to risk seeing the other. Cute dinner dates turned into eating leftovers in different rooms, not wanting to risk a conversation. Small gifts and bouquets were to be seen no more, the house growing more dreary by the day.

You weren't sure if it was worth it anymore. You loved Lando, too much if you were being honest. But at this point, you weren't sure if he loved you back.

You noticed it at the beginning of the end. The way he always had an excuse. Whether it was streaming on twitch or calls with Zak, he never did anything with you anymore.

And you had tried, my god had you tried.

You had done everything. You had meticulously planned dates and activities based on his schedule, shifting around your own. You had been understanding, comforting, whenever he claimed he was too tired to go out to eat. You figured it was just for a while, that the stress had gotten to him and everything would be okay soon. But nothing changed, and 3 months later you found yourself in the exact same position.

Honestly? You were tired. Tired of your relationship, tired of Lando, and tired of putting effort into something he clearly didn't care about. You would give him one last chance, one last time to show he loves you.

That day, you wait for him in the living room. He had gone out with a few friends and it was well past 11pm, the time he had promised he would return.

Hearing the click of the lock, you mute the movie, watching the door open to reveal a tipsy Lando. His eyebrows furrow together at the sight of you on the couch.

"Why aren't you asleep yet?" he asks, heading to the kitchen for a glass of water.

"I wanted to talk to you, remember?"

"Can't we just talk tomorrow, I'm tired" he responds, before turning towards the staircase.

You knew you had to speak now, his understanding of tomorrow would never come. You look down at your hands, almost whispering the next words in fear of what his answer would be.

"Do you even love me anymore?"

"What?" He turns around immediately, looking at you.

"You heard me."

"Of course I love you, why are you even asking me that?"

"You've said it 2 times in the last week."

"What?" he scoffed. "You're counting now?"

"What else do you want me to do, Lando? We've spent maybe 1 day together in the last month. You're always making excuses and leaving and- I don't even know. What am I supposed to think?" You stand up, your voice increasing in amplitude as you grow more and more frustrated.

"I don't know Y/N, maybe trust the fact that I love you!"

"How!? You haven't given me a reason to in months." Letting out a sigh, you shake your head. "Nevermind, I don't know what I was expecting by doing all this." You get up and head to your bedroom, speeding up when you hear Lando trailing behind you. You had prepared a small bag with enough clothes for a week, should the conversation not go well.

Thankful for your foresight, you turn around and see Lando standing in the doorway, interested in finishing a conversation for the first time in ages.

"Why do you have a bag packed?"

"I'm done. I'm leaving."

It was ironic how quickly his face changed. His hard expression turned soft at the realisation of what you meant, the anger in his eyes was no more, instead it flashed with fear and sadness.

"Done... with what?" he whispered. The tables had turned, now it was him who was afraid of your answer. He waited for your answer, mouth slightly parted, taking small breaths, fearful of what would happen when you broke the tense silence.

"You. Us." Your voice was cold as steel, wanting to leave the house as soon as possible. Leave him as soon as possible. You could feel the emotions building up inside of you, threatening to burst out, but you hold on, not wanting to cry in front of him.

You try walking past him, but his hand grabs your own, pulling you into his arms. He was now stood directly in front of you, still blocking the doorway.

"Darling I- I get that you're mad but we don't have to break up." His voice is hesitant, not wanting to accidentally say something to upset you further. "

"We do, Lando."

"No no no. We can- I can fix this, darling. How about we spend time together this week? Yeah? I'll clear everything, it'll be just the two of us, all week." His mind was scrambling, going through every possible action, trying to think of ways to make you stay. "Please, my love. I love you, I promise, so much. I'll say it a million times a day, forever."

You sigh, eyes filling up with water as you try to hold back the tears. He didn't deserve to see you cry, see how much he had hurt you. "Lando, I would've given anything for that a few days ago, hell even a few hours ago. But you didn't care until it was too late, and that's not my fault." You don't look at his face, knowing that his expression would break you. Instead you look past him at the door, shrugging off his hands and walking away.

"Wait! I- I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry and I'm sorry I didn't tell you how much I love you. I'll do anything, my love. Anything. Tell me what you want and I'll do it."

You stop, but don't turn around, knowing that Lando was standing right behind you. "I don't want anything from you anymore, not when I know all I'll get is disappointment."

You leave, heading to your car. Lando stands still, staring at the door, watching, praying that you would come back. That he hadn't messed up to that point. That it was all just a nightmare.

[zzoomacroom]

Rain Is Coming Down (Chapter 6)

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Dreamling, Retired Dream, Multi-chapter, Mpreg, Fluff, Smut, Angst

(Start from chapter 1 here)

Rating: Explicit

Chapters: 6/12

Relationships: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Hob Gadling

Additional tags: Retired Dream, Mpreg, Pregnancy, Trans Dream, Fluff, Smut, Angst

CONTENT WARNINGS for this chapter: brief panic attack/ptsd flashback, misogynistic and transphobic slurs, non-graphic violence, explicit sexual content

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Chapter 6: 26 Weeks - Part 2

The wooden bench creaks beneath him as Morpheus flops heavily into his seat at their table. The pub is lively this evening, but he would rather endure the noise and crowds than make the arduous trek back up the stairs at the moment.

“Save our seats and I’ll go and see what I can scrounge up from the kitchen, yeah? Back in a mo,” Hob says, giving Morpheus a quick peck on the cheek before slowly making his way across the packed room.

The former Dreamlord sits and watches the other patrons at the New Inn, some engaged in animated conversation while others appear more interested in the football game playing on the television above the bar. It is still a strange feeling, looking at these people and being unable to peer into their minds, being blind to their innermost fantasies. How irritating that he must now rely on facial expressions and abstruse human social cues in order to guess at what they might be thinking.

Perhaps it is poetic justice that in becoming human, Morpheus finds himself more disconnected from humanity than ever.

And yet, he has found it to be surprisingly… freeing. The realization that he is no longer burdened with carrying the hopes and fears of everyone in the room. It is lonely at times, yes, but it is a different sort of loneliness than what he felt during his imprisonment or, indeed, for the vast majority of his existence. He is never truly lonely now, he realizes. Now that he has Hob, now that he is—

“Murphy!” Suzanne exclaims, snapping him out of his reverie as she places a glass of ginger ale in front of him, as well as a pint of lager for Hob. “How are you, love? It’s been ages since you’ve been down! Everyone’s missed you.”

(Continue reading below or on ao3)

“No we haven’t,” says a familiar-looking bearded man at the next table. “Quiz nights are no fun with those two always winning.”

“Oh, hush, Keith,” Suzanne scoffs, pretending to swat at him with her notepad. “Not like you ever win either way; you thought the capital of Spain was Majorca, for pity’s sake.” She rolls her eyes as she turns back to Morpheus. “So, how’ve you been? You look fantastic. Robbie’s taking good care of you, I take it.”

“He is,” Morpheus replies, a smile spreading across his face. “I am well. Thank you, Suzanne.”

“I’m glad to hear it, love. I was starting to worry. What’ve you been doing up there, all cooped up? Getting lots of rest, I hope.”

Morpheus likes Suzanne. Like Hob, she is easy to talk to. He knows a little of her dreams, having first met her before his retirement. Mostly, she dreams of her family and hopes that they will always be safe and know that they are loved. Very rarely, she has nightmares—memories of things she endured, things no one should have to endure, but which ultimately led her to the greatest joys in her life. Morpheus can empathize.

“I have been painting. A mural, for the nursery. We also had a visit from my sister today,” he says.

“Oh, how nice! Didi, right? I remember her from the Christmas party. Has she got kids of her own?”

“No,” Morpheus replies, “but our niece and nephew refer to her as their ‘cool aunt.’”

“I’ll bet she is!” Suzanne laughs heartily. “I’m glad you have her. She seems like such a dear.”

“She is,” Morpheus agrees with an easy smile. “She has done… a great deal for me.”

“Wish I’d had someone like her when I was pregnant with Shannon,” Suzanne says. “I’m just glad I can be here for her now, and for you lads,” she adds, nodding towards Hob, who has just returned with a large, steaming platter of fish and chips. “Which reminds me, I’ve got another batch of Leo and Gracie’s old clothes and things for you.”

“I hope you know we insist on paying for those,” Hob remarks as he places the dish in the center of the table for the two of them to share.

“Please, you’d be doing me a favor just by getting them out of my flat,” Suzanne says with a wave of her notepad.

“Well then, at least let me go and pick them up,” Hob counters.

“Deal. But I still want to come up and see that mural!”

“Oh, yeah, you’ve got to see it! It’s stunning!” Hob grins at Morpheus as he sits down across from him, giving him a sly wink before popping a chip into his mouth. Morpheus grins back, knowing full well that Hob will slip some cash into Suzanne’s handbag when she’s not looking.

“There’s something else I wanted to talk to you boys about,” Suzanne continues, suddenly earnest. Morpheus and Hob exchange uneasy glances; Morpheus wonders if this will be another lecture on the virtues of modern obstetrics. “I’d like to throw you a baby shower.”

Morpheus gulps. Hob bites his lip as he tries to stifle a laugh. Morpheus kicks him under the table. Hob schools his features, giving Morpheus a look that he interprets to mean ‘I’ll try and talk her out of it.'

“That’s incredibly sweet of you, Suze, but don’t trouble yourself,” Hob insists. “Can’t imagine we’d need one, what with everything you’ve given us.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” Suzanne says, undeterred. “It’ll only be a small do, and we can have it here. Just the staff and any friends you want to bring. Oh, and bring your sister! I’ll make that chocolate cake you like.”

Hob looks at Morpheus again, raising his eyebrows. ‘Come on, dove, you know we can’t say no,' he conveys with those big, sparkling brown eyes that he knows very well Morpheus cannot resist.

“Thank you, Suzanne,” Morpheus finally grits out, hoping his smile doesn’t look too forced. “That sounds lovely.”

“Yeah, cheers, Suze,” Hob agrees. “You’re a gem.”

“Sure am. Dunno what you’d do without me,” she winks. “Right, I’ll leave you lads to it, then. I’d better get this lot their drinks before they start rioting,” she sighs as she marches back to the bar.

Morpheus slumps in his seat, picking forlornly at his chips. Hob gives him a pitying look and hooks his foot around Morpheus’ ankle. “It won’t be that bad, dove,” he says. “Thanks for being a good sport about it. You know it would’ve broken her heart if we’d said no.”

“Two baby showers. Two. This is egregious,” Morpheus mutters. Hob’s mouth twitches as he makes a valiant effort to keep a straight face, and Morpheus finds his own twisting into a smile in spite of his best efforts to maintain his sullen pout. “You mock my misfortune, Hob Gadling?” he asks, his voice dripping with faux indignation. 

He snatches the piece of fish that Hob was reaching for and stuffs it into his mouth, both to underscore his petulance and to smother the treacherous wheeze of laughter that was dangerously close to spilling out.

“Oh, poor you,” Hob chuckles, looking smugly triumphant at his husband’s reaction. “What dreadful misfortune, having so many people who love you that they’re throwing two separate parties in your honor. You know—”

Hob does not finish his thought as there is a sudden commotion near the bar. A shout, followed by a deafening shatter of glass. Morpheus goes still. He shivers, despite it being uncomfortably warm in the crowded pub. Everything sounds muffled and distant, like he is behind a thick layer of glass. He can feel it again. The glass, the iron, closing in on him, he cannot…

“Darling? Darling, are you—” Hob’s voice cuts through the noise as he turns away from the source of clamor and back to Morpheus, his eyes widening in concern. And oh, it is so loud, and Morpheus wants to go home, but he cannot move, and—

“—No! No, you need to leave. Trust me, mate, you do not want to get the owner involved.” Suzanne’s voice rings out, booming and steely and surprisingly intimidating. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she adds grimly, catching Hob’s eye as he rises from his chair.

“Hob—”

“Wait here,” Hob tells Morpheus, and before he can protest his husband is striding across the room, a look of flinty determination in his eyes that Morpheus has only seen once before. It sends another shiver down his spine, for rather different reasons this time.

From where Morpheus sits, he can see his husband approaching a belligerent and obviously drunk man who has crowded Suzanne into a corner. She glares defiantly up at him as he shouts obscenities at her, swaying on his feet all the while. “I already told you—you bitch,” he hiccups, slurring his words, “’m not leavin’ ‘til I talk to the owner.”

The room has gone silent. Everyone in the pub has turned towards the bar, riveted on the scene as it unfolds. Alan, the barman, wrings his hands nervously as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, apparently unsure as to whether he should step in. Toni and Ethan have emerged from the kitchen, still holding their knife and spatula, respectively, and looking as though they hope they will not need to use them to defend themselves. The New Inn is not the sort of establishment that frequently sees this sort of disorderly conduct, and everyone seems to be at a loss for what to do.

Everyone except Hob.

“I’m the owner, and you’re leaving now,” Hob announces sternly, grabbing the man (who is considerably larger than himself) by the shoulder and pulling him away from Suzanne.

“Get your fuckin’ ‘ands off me, mate! I haven’t done nothin’ wrong,” the man growls, shoving Hob backwards. Morpheus jumps to his feet almost involuntarily, but finds himself riveted to the spot where he stands, unable to move closer to the fray.

“He started spouting off a load of words I’m not going to repeat,” Suzanne interjects, “and when I asked him to leave he knocked all the glasses off the bar like a bloody toddler.”

“Yeah, you’re done here. Out. Now,” Hob barks, pointing to the door.

The man scoffs and smirks as he raises his hands in an exaggerated gesture of surrender. “Fine by me,” he sneers, looking Morpheus dead in the eye and jabbing his chin in his direction. “Too many freaks and trannies here for my taste anyway.”

Morpheus has no time to react to these words before there’s a loud, dull thwack, and the man is clutching his cheek and staggering backwards into a table. Morpheus only realizes belatedly that Hob must have punched him.

The pub goes silent. Then, all at once, there is a cacophony of whispers and shouts and everything in between as the denizens of the New Inn turn their fury on the man who interrupted their evening.

“You get ‘im, Robbie!” someone calls out.

“Yeah, that was well out of order, mate,” says another onlooker.

“Does he know he’s his husband?” hisses a blonde woman seated next to Keith.

A cold trickle of… something snakes its way through Morpheus’ veins as he stands there, torn between rushing to his husband’s side and remaining where he is for the sake of the baby’s safety. Is it shame that he feels? Anger, humiliation…? Yes. All of those, and perhaps some other things. But he cannot deliberate on them now, because the drunk man is stumbling back to his feet and raising his fist and—

“Hob—!” Morpheus cries, only realizing that his legs apparently do work after all when he is halfway across the room. His own words from centuries past ring in his head. ‘You can be hurt, or captured.' He reaches his husband faster than should be possible in his current state, propelled by equal amounts of rage and fear.

Morpheus reaches instinctively for his sand before remembering that—oh. Right. He is completely helpless now. Useless.

But Hob is still as capable as ever. He catches the man’s fist and deftly twists his arm around, pinning it behind his back. “Get the fuck out of my pub before I get my broadsword,” he snarls as he shoves the man towards the exit.

The man yelps and shambles clumsily to the door, and just as he is reaching for the handle, Hob seizes him by the collar and yanks him around to look him in the eye.

An uneasy murmur ripples through the room. The drunk man looks as terror-stricken as he would have had Morpheus unleashed his most vicious nightmares upon him.

“If you ever come near my husband or my family again, I’ll fucking—” Hob rages at the man, his teeth bared and his speech lapsing into an archaic dialect. Morpheus understands the threats of dismemberment and desecration of the man’s corpse, but to other observers it must sound like the garbled ravings of a lunatic (which may actually be less disturbing than what Hob is saying).

Morpheus has never seen his husband this angry before, and it is. Alarming. What is also alarming is how aroused he has become; he is glad that he wore black today, as he can feel the growing wetness in his underwear gradually seeping through the fabric of his joggers.

There is a loud thump as the back of the man’s head hits the door, Hob’s fists still clenched in the front of his shirt. Morpheus and Suzanne reach them at the same time and drag Hob away from the man by the shoulders.

“Hob—!” Morpheus begins.

“Robbie, that’s enough!” Suzanne yells at the same moment. “You’ve made your point, now let him go!”

Hob deflates under their hands. He turns around, glancing between Morpheus, Suzanne, and the crowd of wide-eyed spectators. He is breathing hard and he looks rather foggy and far away, his eyes glazed and his hands shaking.

The drunk man bolts out the door as soon as Hob turns his back, and a few of the patrons make noises of approval, though most are still sitting in stunned silence.

“Good riddance!” Keith calls out, and the blonde woman beside him—Helen, his wife, as Morpheus recalls—nods in vehement agreement.

Suzanne immediately returns to the bar with broom and mop, directing Alan to help her with the mess. She goes on with her work as if she is entirely unruffled by the whole affair, though Morpheus can see the way her hands tremble ever so slightly as she sweeps up jagged shards of glass.

Hob blinks, looking down at Morpheus’ hand on his shoulder and then up at his frowning face. The bewilderment in his eyes is gradually replaced by a look of profound shame and remorse. He hangs his head and sighs. “Please don’t be angry,” he mumbles, his voice thin and flat as he rubs his knuckles, which are already starting to bruise. “I know, I know… pot, kettle, and all.”

Morpheus opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again. It had not occurred to him to be angry with Hob. Perhaps he should be, but the only anger he feels is for the man who just fled the pub. He is filled with a variety of competing emotions right now, but anger is surprisingly not one of the stronger contestants. He is relieved that Hob is safe. He is… touched, he supposes. And pleased. That Hob defended him, that Suzanne and everyone else sided with him.

But beneath that is the guilt—Hob defended him. He hurt that man and himself, and forced everyone in the pub to witness it, because of Morpheus. Morpheus, who cannot defend himself or his husband as he should, who put his child in harm’s way because he was too foolish to see his own weakness.

And beneath that, simmering and throbbing low in his belly, is a raging, nigh-overpowering inferno of pure lust.

He is still staring at Hob, who peers up at Morpheus with a sad smile of resignation. Morpheus does not know what to say. Something is about to erupt from him, but he does not know which of the warring feelings will emerge victorious until he is grasping Hob’s face with both hands and kissing him desperately right there in the middle of the pub. He licks into Hob’s mouth, burrowing in like he intends to make a home there, and Hob lets out a surprised little whimper as he opens eagerly for him, his hands coming up to clutch at Morpheus’ shirt and reel him closer.

It would seem they both forgot about their audience, as they startle back from each other when the pub explodes into raucous cheers, applause, and wolf whistles. Hob starts to giggle hysterically, shaking his head as his cheeks redden, and Morpheus hides his irrepressible grin in the crook of his husband’s neck.

When he looks up to meet his eyes, Hob has a knowing smirk on his face. “Don’t even say it,” he warns, with precisely none of the authority he carried just minutes ago. Morpheus decides to show him mercy. He says nothing, merely kisses him again until they are both gasping for breath.

“Get a room, you two!” someone laughs.

“Right!” Hob calls out, clapping his hands together as he glances around the pub. “We’re closing early, everybody out.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Suzanne huffs, propping her elbows on the now-clean bar. “Just go home, you berks. We’ll be fine down here until closing time.”

“Are you sure?” Hob asks, sounding doubtful. “Suze, what if he comes back? What if the police show up? I can’t just leave—”

“Robbie, love, you misunderstand me. I’m kicking you out,” Suzanne interrupts. “Before you do something really indecent. I don’t think that scumbag will be back. And if the cops come round,” she adds, raising her voice to command the attention of everyone in the pub, “the owner wasn’t in today and none of us heard anything about a fight.”

There’s a distracted murmur of agreement throughout the room as the patrons turn back to their drinks and their football match, apparently ready to be done with the spectacle and move on with their evening. Morpheus shares their sentiments. He takes Hob’s hand and drags him toward the stairs with single-minded purpose.

“Alright, but call me if anything goes wrong, yeah?” Hob says hurriedly, glancing back as he is towed helplessly away. “And text me later so I know you got home safe!”

The journey upstairs and to the bedroom does not even register in Morpheus’ mind; everything feels rather surreal just now. Dreamlike. One moment they are in the pub, and the next they are standing beside their bed, having apparently already shed their clothing.

“… You with me, dove?” Hob is asking him, his hand on Morpheus’ cheek and his head tilted in concern.

“Yes,” Morpheus says, blinking as he comes back to himself.

“Tell me what you need, sweetheart.”

He needs… he needs. Full stop. He needs Hob, needs to touch him, needs to feel him inside and know that he is there, that he is real, that they are both alive and safe and loved and wanted and…

“You,” Morpheus replies finally, pulling Hob close and kissing him voraciously. He leads them backwards, his hands on Hob’s hips, until Hob falls back onto the bed. Morpheus breaks the kiss only long enough to crawl into his husband’s lap, fumbling blindly for the lube on the bedside table and knocking the alarm clock and Hob’s reading glasses to the floor. “I need to feel you. Everywhere,” he says, his voice low and rough.

Morpheus hastily uncaps the bottle with one hand, letting the other roam over Hob’s body, burying his fingers in luxuriant hair and sinking his nails into warm, yielding flesh. He kisses and bites his way down his neck while reaching behind himself to press a slick finger to his entrance. It is slightly challenging at this angle, and he struggles momentarily before Hob catches on to what he is doing, his eyes widening and his face darkening with arousal.

“Let me help you with that, darling,” Hob says, taking the lube and pouring a generous amount on his fingers.

He grabs Morpheus by the hip with his other hand, steadying him as he circles one finger around his rim. Morpheus gasps at the cool, wet sensation and tightens his grip on Hob’s shoulders. Hob works him open quickly but gently, pausing intermittently to palm at Morpheus’ sopping wet cunt, smearing and spreading his arousal down to his hole and making a sloppy, squelching mess of both of them.

“You’re so fucking wet,” Hob pants. “Probably could have done it even without the lube.”

“Enough,” Morpheus rumbles, pushing Hob down to lie on his back and positioning himself over his hips. “I am ready,” he breathes as he guides himself onto his husband’s cock.

His eyes flutter shut and his moans, loud and wanton, mingle with Hob’s as he sinks down. They have not had anal sex in this manner since before the pregnancy, and they both take a moment to acclimate to the sensation. They are silent, save for their ragged breathing, and when he opens his eyes Morpheus sees his husband gazing reverently up at him, a look of awe in his tear-glazed eyes.

Morpheus takes one of Hob’s hands (the cleaner of the two), and without breaking eye contact he brings it to his mouth, slowly sucking on his fingers before pushing his arm down between his legs. Hob takes his cue and slides two fingers into Morpheus’ cunt, scissoring them and pressing into his g-spot. Morpheus hums pleasurably and begins to rock slowly, then gasps when Hob adds a third finger while simultaneously pressing his thumb to Morpheus’ clit. It is an awkward position for Hob, and Morpheus’ belly is an obstacle, but neither of them are deterred as Morpheus increases his pace and begins to ride Hob’s cock and fingers.

Morpheus shudders in relief at the feeling of fullness, and he bends forward to gain better leverage, resting his swollen midsection on Hob’s arm and bracing his hands on his chest as he bounces furiously. It’s fast and frantic, urgent and desperate, and Morpheus whines in frustration that he cannot be any closer to Hob than this. That he cannot, as he once could, take all of Hob’s being into himself, cannot merge the two of them together until they are one perfect, infinite entity.

“It’s alright, love. I’ve got you,” Hob soothes. “Take what you need.”

And Morpheus does. He takes all he can, and Hob offers it up eagerly. It is not enough, it is never enough, but Morpheus gluts himself on his husband’s body until he is as sated as this form will allow. He thinks of the first time Hob fought and defended him, the way he had wanted to do exactly this (well, perhaps a variation, with a slightly different body). He had wanted so badly it burned, and now he gets to have this. And he will not let anyone or anything take it away. So he grasps and clutches with both hands and he takes and takes and takes.

“So beautiful,” Hob purrs, trailing his free hand up Morpheus’ stomach and thumbing at his nipple. “Love you so fucking much.”

Morpheus sobs as he comes, his legs shaking and his fingers curling tightly into the hair on Hob’s sweaty, heaving chest. His vision blurs and tears stream down his face, and Hob wails as he floods Morpheus’ insides with a copious rush of hot seed. Morpheus shivers in ecstasy, his own orgasm still pulsing through him.

Hob takes his fingers away and maneuvers Morpheus by the hips to pull his softening cock from his hole. Morpheus weeps at the sudden emptiness; it is not enough, he has not had his fill of Hob. He needs more.

He shifts forward slightly, straddling his husband’s plush waist and grinding his clit against the forest of coarse hair below his navel. The slick from his cunt mingles with the warm rivulet of lubricant and cum that trickles from his hole, forming a veritable puddle on Hob’s stomach as Morpheus ruts frenziedly against him. Hob is looking up at him softly when he comes again, his eyes heavy-lidded and his mouth hanging open in wonder.

Neither of them speak as Morpheus rolls over and collapses beside Hob, curling up against him once Hob has given them a cursory wipe-down with a clean towel from the stack they’ve taken to keeping next to the bed. They remain silent, catching their breath as they rest in each other’s arms, and Morpheus is glad for it. Today has been utterly exhausting—physically, mentally, and emotionally—and he has no energy to discuss it now.

Later, when he regains his composure, he must express to Hob… everything. He does not know. He cannot formulate the words now. His love, his gratitude, how much it means to him that Hob is always ready to defend him without a second thought. Hob is aware of all of this, he knows, but he feels it all so strongly now, and it is so… vexing. That he only has this body and his paltry words with which to articulate himself. That he cannot simply give Hob a dream that conveys the inexpressible depths of his affection.

He is so much less than he used to be. And yet still Hob loves him, still fights for him even though he is too weak to fight for himself.

The muted roar of activity from downstairs, usually a comforting presence in the background, only exacerbates Morpheus’ distress at the moment. Words from earlier echo through his head.

Freak. Tranny.

So this is how he is perceived, now that he has no say in whether or not he is perceived at all.

Yet still Hob loves him.

“I’m sorry.”

Hob’s voice, wet and quavering, comes so softly that it takes Morpheus a moment to realize he spoke, and another to understand what he is apologizing for.

“About earlier. I shouldn’t have hit that lad,” Hob clarifies.

“Do not be sorry, my love,” Morpheus says emphatically. “You were in the right.”

“See, but it’s fucked up that we both thought that,” Hob argues. “Mo, I shouldn’t have done that. What he said, what he did—it was completely inexcusable, but… He was leaving, and I attacked him. I just… lost control. And I’m so sorry.” He puts a hand over his face and sighs. “I’m going to get a handle on this before the baby comes, I swear.”

“Hob. Look at me,” Morpheus implores, taking Hob’s hand from his face and holding it in his own. His knuckles have bruised a deep plum, and it only occurs to Morpheus now that their activities a few minutes ago cannot have helped. “Oh. I have hurt you,” he murmurs, peering into Hob’s red-rimmed eyes and bringing his hand to his lips, kissing each knuckle tenderly.

“No, love. No,” Hob insists, fresh tears welling up in his eyes as he brings his other hand up to cover Morpheus’. “None of this is on you. This was all me and my stupid bloody anger issues.”

“Hob, I trust you with my life. And with our child’s life. I know that you would never turn your anger on either of us.”

“But what if I do?” Hob whispers shakily, sounding genuinely terrified. It breaks Morpheus’ heart to see him so distraught.

“You will not,” he replies. It is the truth, Morpheus is certain of it. He knows, of course, of Hob’s violent past—knows better than anyone, perhaps, save for Hob himself. And he knows that his husband would sooner rescind his immortality than harm his family. It is not that Hob is a violent man by nature; he is a passionate man, one who loves fiercely and would tear the world apart to save those he loves. He is a better man than Morpheus, who would have done far worse to that man in the pub had he still had the power of nightmares at his disposal. 

“You will not, beloved,” Morpheus repeats, cradling him closer and soothing his hand absently up and down his back.

“Alright,” Hob says weakly. “I won’t. Promise.”

“You should put some ice on your hand,” Morpheus mumbles.

“I will, later. Let’s just get some sleep, yeah? Been a hell of a day.”

Morpheus yawns in agreement as he nestles into Hob’s side. They lie there in silence, neither succumbing to the lure of the Dreaming despite their weariness.

When Morpheus finally drifts off, it is a restless half-sleep scattered with disjointed scraps of nightmares. Massive hands enfold him in a sphere of cold, bone-white flesh. Peeking through the cracks between the fingers, he sees Hob in the distance. He carries a sword and his face is bloodied, his jaw set in grim resolve. The hands hold Morpheus aloft, just out of Hob’s reach, lifting him higher and higher until he is face to face with himself, vast and terrible.

The dream ends.

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Thanks for reading! Reblogs, as well as kudos and comments on ao3 are always appreciated! 💗💗💗

[zhongrin]

Now I am curious how Zhongrin + Coviello works!! Like what are the dynamics? Some conversations maybe? Does Coviello tell you both (or one of you) everything they think or or when they have problems or such?

And how did you two find out they have a crush? :] ❤️

this is a cute thought.... i've never really given it a deep look but i imagine...

given the ebg lore, obviously at first coviello thinks of meirin as their boss, but after that event they've grown a little closer, and now she's kind of a parental figure to them. although they don't have the exact label to describe her, and the term 'mother figure' is also something they don't want to use - mostly because 'mother' to them is such a different entity to coviello (i.e. story quest 1 & 2). so if anyone asks, they usually just answer with a somewhat gruff (read: embarrassed) voice: "she's someone who has my back."

also, i tend to end up nagging at cov a lot!!! this child has no idea how to properly care for themselves ;w; i mean, for survival? they're great. amazing, even. toss 'em into the icy mountains of snezhnaya with a stick and they'll survive just fine. but self-care? you might as well talk to them in some ancient sumeru language.

they've missed so many things in their childhood and we're trying to get them to get used to the feeling of 'family' whenever they drop by the teahouse. which. seems to be more and more often these days. and that's good ᰔᩚ

zhongli, on the other hand, is like a mentor to coviello! surprisingly, they open up more to zhongli than me… perhaps because they've had prominent male idols/superiors in their life. despite their rocky start, i think zhongli's been really understanding of cov and in turn, his acceptance made them slowly open up to him!

they tend not to talk much - if they're not prompted to talk, they won't talk, because they're not used to being open and sharing. they like to keep things to themselves most of the time, as well. but zhongli especially, is observant enough to notice their ticks and tells; and he's great in prodding just enough to make people open up >:3

"how did you two find out they have a crush" → probably by coincidence hahah that, or i can see zhongli just. knowing. mayhaps he saw cov talking to someone in town.... or saw them writing letters... or saw them receiving flowers / gifts.... he doesn't want to embarrass them, though, so he keeps it subtle and (mostly) a secret. though he does hint at me whenever we talk about them...

"dear, did you know that cryo visions could be used to preserve flowers?" "oh, interesting. how'd you know??" "well, i just happened to witness someone familiar using their cryo vision to store some gifted flowers in the guest bedroom the other day..."

[peakyblinders1919]

Haddie Harrington Pt. 5

|part 1| |part 2| |part 3| |part 4|

“So…”

“So what? Why do you look like you’re about to explode?”

“Because I am!” Robin exclaimed, twitching with anxiety. 

“What’re you waiting for?” Two could play at this game, and after knowing Robin for as long as you did, it was easy to play by her convoluted rules. 

“Oh I don’t know-” She acted all faux ignorance. “For some good news or something.”

“Well… I do have something interesting to share…”

You’d string it out for as long as you could, watching the girl slap a block of clay on the wheel and press the pedal into motion. Maybe you could get another mug out of this conversation the longer you played. “Steve asked me out to coffee, you wouldn’t have anything to do with that, would you?”

“What, me? Never.”

“Well, you don’t seem surprised. Kind of like you already knew it was going to happen. Almost like it was your idea to begin with?”

“Did he tell you that! I’m going to kill him…” she murmured.

“He doesn’t like coffee!” You scolded, a winning smile prematurely gracing your features. 

“He didn’t like coffee back when you knew him four years ago. He’s a single father, I bet he lives off of black coffee and pure adrenaline.”

“So that’s the story your going to stick to? That it wasn’t your idea, that you didn’t put him up to it?”

“I’m sticking to it.” Her hands moved gracefully, whether playing the notes of her trumpet or forming a beautiful vase or glass out of nothing. It was the only graceful thing about her. “So, when are you going on your hot date?” Though you were both older now, every conversation, every time you two hung out together it was as if you were back in Mrs. Click’s class. What you wouldn’t give to go back 6 years…

“Next week. After parent-teacher conferences. Which means… someone’s watching Haddie.” Swallowing a bit selfishly, you hoped that to be the case anyway. Not that Steve bringing his daughter on the first date would be an instant turn-off. You were loosing focus now, letting your mind run rampant with the possibilities and expectations you conjured up, and every time that happened you found yourself being woefully let down. 

Steve being only one of the culprits.

Maybe you had gone back 6 years.

“I am.”

She said it so matter-of-factly, so smug, eyes never leaving her creation sat wet and glistening on the potters wheel, that you were sure she almost wanted you to ask her to repeat herself just so she could say it again. “I’m watching Haddie.”

“What? How? When did this happen?”

It came with another story, another mug and a vase for you to add to your mantlepeice, a private collection of your friends best work.

It happened last week.

It was hard to believe that a day like today could happen in Septemeber. September 25th to be exact. Where there was supposed to be rain and damp leaves littering the ground, the sun was out and it was a surprisingly mild 63 degrees and you claimed you’d be the world’s worst teacher ever if you didn’t allow the kiddos a little extra time outside. That’s how the whole afternoon was spent; after storytime and circletime, arts and crafts center leaving glitter on the floor, their little hands, and even in the occasion hair or pigtail, the kids chased eachother around the grass, some built in the sandbox, and others giggled on the swings. 

You claimed you had become the world’s worst teacher too for having a favorite but-

“Miss. Y/N! Help!” Running to the rescue before she imploded, you were by Haddie’s side, crouched to meet her at her level, asking what was the matter. She merely kicked her feet angrily but didn’t get anywhere. “Push!”

“Haddie, how do you ask?”

“Push please?” She sugarcoated the phrase with a familiar pink pout and if it weren’t for those deeply familiar eyes you wouldn’t have given into her so easily. But you rose to your feet and gave her a little push, instructed her how to pump her feet to build momentum, and soon she was swinging until sunset. 

Or near sunset anyway. The sun dipped lower in the sky, turning it a slightly darker shade of blue, the light golden and warm and cozy. The other children were home, but Haddie hadn’t giving up her new skill, swinging all by herself as the sun continued to go down. 

Steve was supposed to have been here by now. A phone call to the number he left with you went unanswered, radio silent, kicking up a pulling nausea in your stomach. Something you were grateful you hadn’t felt in a long time. 

“Come on Haddie, it’s getting cold, let’s go inside, we can do some coloring while we wait for Daddy.”

“Where’s Daddy?” She asked, and for some reason it hurt your heart more than you anticipated to have to tell her you didn’t know. Hoping to ease any of her little anxieties, you clasped her hand in yours and led her back to the front.

“Daddy!” She screamed, letting go and running towards him against your protests to be careful and safe.

A sigh of relief washed over you as he picked her up into his arms, giving her a big squeeze,  a calcutalted kiss to her temple.

“Hey, I’m sorry I’m so late. I…  I lost track of time, I burnt dinner I….”

“Hey, it’s ok. We were having a good time, isn’t that right?”

Haddie nodded, you feeling thankful that she hadn’t felt the same crippling defeat that you did that he was never coming back. 

He had changed.

For her.

You tried not to let any of it sting, which proved harder than you would have liked.

“Well, I owe you one, really. Anything Y/N/N. How about a coffee date?”

“Steve, you don’t have to. It’s my job, really.” Though you didn’t want to admit how much more this meant to you. “You don’t owe me anything. Just keep being a good dad to this little one here, she loves you a lot.”

On cue, Haddie slung her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek over and over again.

“Are you sure? Come on, just a coffee.”

Somehow it felt wrong. It felt like he was serving you pity in a glass disguised as a thank you. As much as your heart wanted it to be a date, you hadn’t missed the nuance that he had burnt dinner, and something told you it wasn’t just dinner for him and Haddie. 

Watching you, he knew you hadn’t changed. Not in the slightest. Four years was a long time, but looking at you again, as if for the first time, the sunset washing you in a flattering rainbow of light, he was convinced he was looking in a mirror. A mirror to the past. Where you were still the smartest girl at Hawkin’s High, tied with Nancy of course. You were president of the debate club, school treasurer, and when dealing with all of those titles plus badass babysitter number two alongside Steve, he was the only one who knew you well enough to know you were too stubborn to quit and reliqinuish the debate club or student council position to anyone else you believed didn’t deserve it. Stubbornness worn thick like a coat, he was just a friend who knew how to break through your shield. 

With somewhere to be five minutes ago according to the gold hands of his watch, he took it as a loss, mentally keeping track of the score and it turns out the odds were still not in his favor; the world 3, Steve 0. 

“So he invited us over for dinner, steak and roast potatoes he learned from some cooking show I think, though it’s Steve so it was like burnt to a nearly inedible crisp. And Dustin and Lucas and Max were there, and the dinner was paired with non-stop questions- where he was, why he left. And he answered some of them, told me the parts he wouldn’t tell the kids while they showed Haddie how to play D&D. She’s four, I know, but Dustin claimed it’s a game for all and age doesn’t matter. She’ll be the best dungeon master if she starts now, according to him. And I mean, it makes sense why he left, but it makes more sense why he came back. Though it’s been hard on him, I mean, he sees the kids and he sees them as just that, still kids, can’t get his head around that they’re adults in college. I think he beats himself up that he missed so much.”

“Well that was his choice.” It sounded more bitter than you expected. All while you listened, you started formulating questions of your own that you wanted answers to. Why had he invited them all over but you? Why did he leave? There were a thousand more you could have asked, all sharing one similarity. Why? 

“Y/N, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” She didn’t finish the sentence, nor did she have to. You could play the game just as good as anyone else, fill in the blanks. I didn’t mean to upset you. I didn’t mean to make you jealous. He didn’t mean to leave you out, I’m sure.

“And he asked you to babysit?” You sighed, bringing the topic of conversation back to the beginning. 

“Yeah. And I said yes of course. Your right, she’s just as cool as her Auntie Robin. I’m gonna let her go crazy here.” 

“When was this?” You asked again. 

“Tuesday, why?”

You remembered the day, of course you did. Staying late with Haddie, Steve asking you on a coffee date. That wasn’t Tuesday, that was Monday. Maybe he had burnt the dinner in preparation for the next day, obviously unsuccessful. 

Tuesday of last week, Tuesday was the day he showed up with an extra coffee for you just the way you liked it. He shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal that four years later he was just a friend who still had your order memorized. 

“Since you refused my offer last night.” He offered it to you, radiating an energy you’d never experienced from him before. From others, from yourself, it was a coy shyness that rendered you speechless at the most impromptu times, ears and cheeks too pink to hide. “Maybe you’ll say yes today?”

Steve looked different, acted a bit different around you now, but he was the same hopeless romantic he always had been, but it just wasn’t so hidden anymore. He asked you out to coffee again, or dinner this time, with the red writing on the side of your cup.

“It’s a date.” You agreed, leaving you feeling like a schoolgirl again and leaving him with the overwhelming feeling that he had made the right decision of moving back to Hawkins.

[valeriefauxnom]

So, of course in Dragalia there were royal siblings that were seen together more often, usually those clustered in the more similar age groups. The trio of eldest siblings, for example, had a few private meetings and otherwise seem to interact with each other more. The twins/triplets in the form of Euden, Zethia, and Nedrick also count for understandable reasons. These are the sibling groups that likely grew up closer together (well, Nedrick aside, but that's neither here nor there).

But one pair that majorly goes under the radar (to me, at least) was none other than Phares and Emile.

Standard warning of long post ahead! There's just what I think is a surprising amount of interaction between them and I feel the need to cite my sources to demonstrate just how many exchanges they had, comparatively!

I'll start it bluntly: the very first time that Phares drops into the main campaign in any prominence is to save Emile, taking a break from his science experiment shenanigans. His next appearance in chapter 10, he shows up with in lockstep, -you guessed it, Emile.

We also see tendencies/hallmarks of their interactions to start forming in chapter 10, on both their parts.

Emile seems to view Phares as the most likely source of protection among his siblings and gravitates to trying to get him to fight his battles, as Phares is apologizing for him and otherwise trying to put a reign on him and his words. Moreover, Emile doesn't seem quite so biting against Phares, which is likely due to the fact Phares' critiques are a bit less pointed and, well, outwardly mean than the other siblings'.

Alas, this is where their paths split for a long time as Phares breaks off to do his own thing, but it makes a triumphal return after Phares is free of the Progenitor's corruption and Emile starting properly on his character development.

Exhibit 1, in the Blood that Binds:

Here Emile continues to use Phares as a sort of crutch, both in protecting him as well as reassurance on what the plan was to begin with. Phares also briefly mentions to Valyx after he recovers that 'Emile was worried' about him, which, whether it is alluding to another conversation in which Emile was being oddly transparent on his concern or just simple observation from afar, seems to hint that Phares does pay Emile a fair bit of his attention when they're together even if he's just trying to stop Emile from doing stupid stuff.

Lastly, Phares is usually among the first to be direct in complimenting Emile's good deeds or argue that praising him is okay, few and far between as they are.

Phares also maintains his tendency to try and dampen Emile's fiery crassness into something more kind/polite. "Emile-translation", if you will. This is clearest in Bondforged Zethia's story.

My coup de grâce regarding this surprisingly long saga of Emile and Phares interactions comes in the form of Phares' lines, in which he declares: "I am happy Emile was able to rely on me. It made me feel like an older brother for once."

Aw. He cares. I think that's a unique aspect of Phares' overall character in that he strongly defies the stereotypical uncaring apathetic genius attitude. Of all the elder siblings he seems the most involved in trying to, well, not 'raise', but outwardly guide and express care for his younger siblings since Leonidas and Chelle usually are a lot more evasive about their actual sibling affection, and I find that interesting. I dunno exactly what I want to say here but it's sweet and what I try to keep in mind when writing him! And Emile, in turn, isn't particularly biting in return to Phares and seems to be the sibling he turns to the quickest for aid.

In any case, Phares and Emile had surprisingly many interactions among the siblings! I wish we had gotten more to get a better idea of their full dynamics, but I can appreciate the odd combos we did get! What sibling interactions do you guys wish we got more of?

[onlygenxhere]

Cravings

Luke woke up with a start. He’d been dreaming he’d lost Julie in IKEA and couldn’t find her. He rolled over in the bed reaching out to pull her into his arms only to come up empty.

He sat up abruptly, instantly awake.

“Julie?” He called out quietly.

The clock on her bedside table read 1:35am.

Where could she be?

Luke slid out of bed, the only light in the room coming from the clock.

“Jules?” he called again.

He carefully moved toward the bathroom, maybe she was sick again.

He pushed open the door and switched on the light.

No Julie.

He turned toward the closed bedroom door and opened it, finally noticing a dim light coming from down the hall.

Luke moved quickly, the light not getting much brighter as he got closer to the kitchen where it seemed to be coming from.

He rounded the corner and stopped.

Julie was leaning against the island in the middle of their kitchen eating… something.

“Jules?”

She jerked her head up quickly, her eyes wide like she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t.

The only light in the room was coming from the little light over the stove behind her.  

“What are you doing up baby?”     

She swallowed what she was eating as he moved closer.

“I was hungry.”

He stopped in front of her looking down at what she was having as a late night snack.

“Are you eating pickles and peanut butter?”

She licked her lips and looked back down at the dill pickle in her hand just before she used it to scoop out some peanut butter and took a crunchy bite. “It’s surprisingly good.” She said as she chewed.

Luke couldn’t help grin at her. He was known to eat what others considered strange combinations of food. Alex gave him the most crap about it but Julie had been known to tease him from time to time too.

He reached over and pulled out a pickle spear of his own and scooped out a little bit of peanut butter with it and took a bite.

It wasn’t the worst thing he’d ever had but definitely not something he’d choose to eat.

He swallowed, “So is this what they call a pregnancy craving?”

Julie grinned taking another bite of peanut butter covered pickle. “Well I am pregnant.”

Luke’s grin grew into a full sized smile. “Yes you are.”

“We are.” She winked at him as she took another bite.

He leaned on the counter and looked up at her. “My part’s kinda done for the next few months. Pretty sure you’re doing all the work.” Luke reached over and laid his hand on the barely there bump of her stomach. They were twelve weeks in and she had just started to show a couple weeks ago.

“Don’t get me wrong, I want to help however I can.” He ducked his head, “Just not sure what I can do.”

Julie scoffed and took another bite of peanut buttered pickle. “You cleaned me and the bed up this morning when I threw up everywhere. That was pretty damn helpful.”

Luke nodded. Yeah that wasn’t fun but Julie had been throwing up off and on for six weeks. This morning was only the second time it had taken her by surprise and she hadn’t made it to the bathroom.

He’d much rather clean up the mess than be the one getting sick.

He pointed at her very interesting snack. “Speaking of getting sick, are you sure that’s the best thing to be eating?”

Julie looked at the jar of peanut butter in front of her with a fresh pickle spear in her hand. She dropped the pickle back in its jar and looked up at Luke, “Probably not.”

He reached over and put the top back on the peanut butter taking it back to its home in the pantry.

Luke looked over his shoulder at Julie as she put the pickles back in the fridge. “You still hungry?”

She shut the door and placed her hands on her stomach. “I think we’re good,” she said looking up at him with a smile.

He couldn’t help but grin back at her as he moved over to her and knelt at her feet so he could have a conversation with their kid.

“So I’ma need you to stop making your mama sick, ok little one?” he said with his lips against her stomach. “If you don’t make her sick she’ll keep feeding you crazy things like pickles dipped in peanut butter.”

Julie hummed, “Oh, bacon and nutella sound really good too.”

Luke laughed and looked up at his wife who was smiling down at him. “You hear that bean? You keep everything down tomorrow and I’ll make some bacon for your mama in the morning that she’ll dip in some chocolate for you.”

Julie laughed and reached down pulling Luke to his feet. “Ok, that’s enough chatting for tonight.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Take me to bed?”

He scooped her up in his arms and she squeaked.

“More than happy to boss.”

-- Inspired by @missjoolee fic from last week.

[chemicalalice]

Fic: Play For Keeps - Kinktober Day 12

Title: Play For Keeps

Summary: Luke doesn't think of you as a prize to be won. But his brother does.

Pairing: Luke Tillerson x female!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, consensual and unconsensual exhibitionism/voyeurism (one partner knows, the other doesn't), unprotected PinV sex, vaginal fingering. Please be mindful of yourself and do not read if this content bothers you. 18+ only! Minors DNI.

Word count: 3958

AN: Outer Range shows that Trevor is an asshole. But I don't think they meant for him to be as big of an asshole as I make him. *shrugs* Oh well! Sorry Trev! (Thank you @maria-allegra for the pic of Luke!)

In moments like these, when Trevor had his hand on your arm and his 'aww shucks' grin plastered on his face and Luke wanted to punch Trevor's smug face in, he had to take a deep breath and remind him self of a couple of things.

1) Trevor was a playboy who would hit on anything female with a pulse. You knew that and weren't stupid enough to fall for his charm.

2) Trevor was his brother, and Luke loved him very much; even if he was a complete douche bag 90% of the time and they probably wouldn't even associate at all if they didn't share blood.

And 3) Trevor didn't actually know that Luke was head over heels in love with you, not just looking for a quick fuck.

Luke wasn't actually so sure of that last one. What Trevor did know was that Luke was interested in you, though. Very interested. So the fact that Trevor still pursued you even though he had a different girl in bed each night made Luke see red.

Luke knew you weren't some prize to be won. He cared you too much to disrespect you like that. But if that was how Trevor saw this? As some sort of game? Well, this time Luke was playing to win.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You liked Trevor Tillerson, for the most part. When you you first moved to Amelia county all those months ago you didn't know a single person. While you were looking for a change, a fresh start, it was still lonely. There were many nights that you would sit alone at the bar, maybe order dinner, maybe just have a few drinks, and then head back to your quiet little house. Until Trevor.

You knew he was looking to get into your pants when he first struck up a conversation with you, but he didn't keep you isolated, focused solely on him. Instead, he brought you back to his table and introduced you to his brothers and the other girls that were sitting with them. Surprisingly, those girls ended up becoming close friends, so you would always be thankful to him for that.

Maybe that thankfulness was why you were currently entertaining his attention. That or the dry spell that you had been stuck in for the past year was finally getting to you. Either way, you didn't slide your arm away when he rested his hand on it, fingers curling gently around your elbow is a subtly possessive manner. As if it was a done deal that you would be leaving with him that night even after all the other nights you had managed to slip away from his grasp. Maybe it was.

Or at least, that was until Luke appeared, leaning in between you and Trevor to throw some money on the bar. Trevor was forced to pull his arm back to accommodate his brother's body, and you smiled into your drink as Trevor scowled at the other man.

That scowl deepened when Luke clapped a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Beth and Maria are demanding your attention over at the pool table. They want to play a round. I don't know how much longer they will take no for an answer."

The scowled switched back to a smile as Trevor turned to face you again. "Don't go anywhere sweetheart, I will be right back as soon as I am done with this game and we can continue this conversation."

You gave a slight, noncommittal, dip of your head in response, your eyes meeting Luke's as Trevor moved away. "That was subtle."

"I figured I should step in and save you from whatever shit Trev was spewing now," Luke responded with a grin. He waved at the bartender. "Buy you a drink?"

The ice in your empty drink knocked against the glass as you tilted it in your hand. "I guess one more wouldn't hurt."

"So what line was my brother giving you tonight," Luke asked after the bartender set a new drink in front of you.

You dropped your chin to your hand as you gazed at the man in front of you. "Hmmm...he was telling me how he would love to take me out on an ATV ride on your property; show me the true beauty of Wyoming. It didn't sound that bad, surprisingly."

Luke scoffed. "The ATVs?! Nah, you need to see it on horseback. That is the only true way to experience it if you haven't before."

You laughed at the way his nose had crinkled in disgust. "I didn't think you Tillerson boys rode horses. I thought you were 'modern' cowboys, doing away with the outdated past and embracing technology and all that."

You liked the way Luke's eyes creased in the corners as he smiled at you. "Honey, this is Wyoming. Of course we have horses. It's just faster, and easier, to use the ATVs for daily use." He paused to take a swig of his beer, eyes never leaving yours. "I'll tell you what, how about you let me take you out tomorrow instead? Horses and all? It's the least I can do to make sure you get to truly appreciate what we have to offer here."

"Gonna show me what a real cowboy you are?" you teased, cocking one eye brow at him.

His eyes darkened, smile sliding into a knowing grin. "Only if you let me, sweetheart." You picked up easily on the double meaning in his words. He was probably just teasing you right back. You could feel your face heating as he waited for your response.

"What time?"

The grin stretched back into a smile. "Come out to my place, 10am. I will have everything ready."

"Alright then." You gave him a small smile before tipping the rest of your drink into your mouth. "I'm going to call in a night. Say goodbye to Trev and Billy for me, would you?"

He caught your hand as you stood, surprising you and raising it to press a chaste kiss your knuckles. "Good night, darlin'. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow." Oh, he was good.

You were so flustered by Luke's easy seduction that you didn't see Trevor glaring at the two of you from where he stood by the pool table.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You saw Luke as soon as you drove up to his house. He was standing out by the barn, two horses already saddled up and tied to the fence rail. Your stomach clenched, and you weren't sure if it was at the sight of the horses, or him.

"'Morning." He was smiling as he greeted you, and that smile only got bigger as he sensed your unease. "You nervous?"

"A little," you admitted.

"Oh come on now, I thought you were country girl; just from up north."

You couldn't help but let out a small laugh. "Yeah, I am I guess. But from where I come from everyone has a boat, not a horse, and we wrangle muskies not cows. More backwoods than prairie."

"Well don't be nervous. I picked out the nicest gal we got for you. She is super easy to ride. We are going to have a good time." Luke assured you. The smile never left his face, and as you looked at him, you realized it was one of the first times you ever saw him looking so happy, the normally worry lines on his face smoothing out until they practically disappeared. You knew that despite Trevor being the oldest, Luke shouldered most of the responsibilities of the ranch. You sensed pretty early on how seriously he took those responsibilities, and how much they weighed on him.

After he had helped you up on your horse, you watched as he mounted his own, trying not stare at the way his ass filled out his dark jeans as he swung his leg over the saddle. He looked good; from the hat down to the boots, it was like a girlhood dream come to life.

The day was perfect for a ride; the crisp fall air balanced wonderfully with the warmth of the sun. Conversation flowed easily as Luke pointed out different plants and animals as you rode. It was easy for you to see how much he loved his land. And it warmed something in you to see him so peaceful. You wondered if he had ever shared it like this with someone else before. The way he talked, his obvious excitement, had you guessing he hadn't.

After about two hours he had you stop and dismount, and to your amazement he then proceeded to pull a full picnic out of the saddle bags strapped to his horse; complete with a blanket, cloth napkins, and bottle of wine.

"This is quite some tour." You we're leaning back on your elbows, eyes closed and face tipped to towards the sun, relishing it's warmth.

"Oh sweetheart, I'm pretty sure this is a date. Just been trying to think of best way to ask." He sat with one leg tucked under him, the other propped up, his arm resting on the bent knee, twisting his wine glass back and forth in his fingers. The grin on his lips was seductive, almost lazy, but his eyes were heavy with intent.

You wondered if he would bridge the gap between you, press you down into the blanket spread over the long grass and kiss you. That spot between your legs was hot with longing, but you knew you would never be brave enough to make the first move.

"I suppose we should probably start heading back," he murmured before you could respond, eyes finally dipping away from yours. You nodded in agreement, even though disappointment flooded through you.

The ride back was just as nice as the ride out, although now it was heavy with Luke's admission. You would be lying if you denied that you had been interested in Luke ever since you were first introduced to him. He was smart, handsome, and hardworking. But despite all the times you talked or met at group events, you could never tell if he interested in you back, or just being friendly. Now every word you exchanged seemed primed with potential. You couldn't remember the last time you had enjoyed yourself so fully or so easily with a man. It made you want more.

When you arrived back at the house, Luke helped you off your horse one last time and then led you into the barn, where you stood awkwardly as he began removing the saddles and other tack. "Are you sure I can't help at all?" you offered, knowing it was, in essence, pointless. You didn't know a thing about what he was doing. He shot you a grin and a wink, no doubt thinking the same thing.

Luke was silent as he worked, and that silence slowly began to eat away at the confidence you had slowly felt building throughout the day. It was a bad habit you had yet to break; your mind always going to the worst places as self-doubt crept in. Did he regret what he had said? Did you mistake what he had said? Maybe he had been taking pity on you, inviting you out today; knowing how painfully single you were. Maybe..., worst of all, maybe it was all a joke to him?

You cleared your throat. "Hey, I had a really good time today. You really didn't have to do all that. I should probably let you get back to your day, though. I don't want to take up any more of your time."

Luke dropped the saddle he had been holding onto its rack and then turned to you, eyes narrowed. You opened your mouth, ready to apologize (For what? You weren't sure. Another bad habit), but your jaw clicked shut as he quickly closed the space between you, backing you up against the bench behind you.

He reached out, brushing a strand of hair off your cheek as he smiled softly. "Stop thinking so loudly. I wanted to take you out today. I couldn't think of a better way to spend my day."

And then his hand was sliding through your hair and cupping the back of your head, pulling you to him. It was soft; his lips brushing gently against yours, coaxing you to relax, to open your mouth to him, to allow him to deepen the kiss. You moaned softly as his tongue pushed past your lips, licking into your mouth. You moaned again and he pulled back, resting his forehead against yours. "You gonna let me show you what else a real cowboy can do?"

You nodded quickly, almost frantically, as you reached up to pull his mouth back to yours, your confidence returning in a rush. It was his turn to moan. He tugged at your hips, hoisting you up onto the bench. He was already hard; and you could feel it, pressing up against your belly as he moved.

His hands immediately fell to your pants; tugging at your belt, thumbing open the button, dragging the zipper down. Through it all, his mouth never left yours. You lifted your hips, allowing him to tug your jeans down to your ankles. The wood of the bench was rough on your skin where your panties didn't cover, but you didn't care, not when your hands were fighting with Luke's own belt.

He finally pulled back, voice rough when he spoke. "Let me." Your mouth went dry as his pants fell to the ground, underwear following shortly after. Jesus. You couldn't think of a better looking way to end your dry spell.

Luke pushed himself in between your legs, his hands falling to your thighs. One thumb hooked in your panties, pulling them to the side, allowing him slide a finger into you. He groaned, cursing as he felt how wet you already were. "Is this ok?" he panted, eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt or discomfort.

You hesitated briefly, not even meaning to, and he swooped in to kiss you again. "Its ok if its not. We can stop," he said.

"No, I don't want to stop. Just....its been awhile," you admitted. You could feel your cheeks heating in embarrassment at the admission.

Luke, however, didn't seem to mind. "Jesus, baby, that's ok. I'll go slow, ok?" You barely had time time to nod before he was pushing another finger into you, stretching you open for him as his thumb began to rub slow circles on your clit.

It felt good. Too good. You were already keyed up from the want you felt for him, the want that had building all day; and it had been so long since you had been touched by another person that at the very first curl of his fingers inside you you were moaning his name and clenching around his fingers as you came.

He withdrew his fingers, staring down at you in wonder. You wanted to curl into yourself, humiliation at how easily you had fallen apart coursing through you. But he didn't let you sink into that feeling. With the hand that wasn't covered in your cum, he cupped your cheek, coaxing you to look at him.

"You are the most gorgeous thing I have ever laid my eyes on," he breathed, and his voice sounded almost reverent. "I'm gonna take care of you baby. I'm going to make you feel even better."

He pressed closer to you, his cock sliding between you folds, catching at your entrance and then the pressure as he began to push in. You expected more resistance, but you were already so wet and relaxed from your orgasm that he had no problem in sinking into you.

You whimpered as he bottomed out, almost overwhelmed at how full you felt. He waited only the briefest of moments before he drew back and then plunged in again, starting up an unhurried rhythm. You arched against him with a gasp. Luke's thrusts we're smooth and deep, and he was focused on searching for that spot that would make you see stars.

He wrapped an arm around your back, pulling you closer to the edge of the bench, closer to him, so that he could change his angle. You cried out as he did, your arm shooting up to wrap around his shoulders as an anchor. He knew he had hit the right spot by the way your moans turned breathy.

"You feel so good, baby. So fucking good," he murmured, lips brushing against your forehead.

Movement, caught out of the corner of his eye, pulled his attention away from you. Trevor. Standing in the doorway. Luke's met his eyes, watched as realization set in as he took in the scene before him; watched as his brother's hands curled into fists at his side as that realization turned to anger.

Luke knew, somewhere, far back in the deepest reaches of his brain that he should stop; that he should curl over you to shield you from his brother's view. Knew that if you were aware you were being watched you would be horrified. But in that moment, rational thought was silenced by something more primal, by the dark and possessive part of him that wanted to stake his claim and scream Look! This is mine! You can't have her. You can never have her.

"Look at me," he demanded, voice rough and panting as he stared down at you, and he had to bite back a groan as your eyes immediately flicked up to his. Such a good girl for him. He began to fuck into you harder, each thrust wobbling the bench you were perched on. "Does that feel good? Do you like that? Gonna cum all over my cock for me?"

"God! Yes!" you moaned in reply, trying to brace yourself the best you could against the way he was pounding into you.

"Tell me you're mine. Tell me you won't let anyone else touch you like this." He didn't know where the words were coming from. He had never been like this with a girl before. But with you, he needed it; needed to know that you were his, that you wanted him as much as he wanted you.

"Yours, Luke." It was practically a sob, pulled out of you with every push and pull of his cock in your cunt.

He could feel your thighs start to tremble. Could feel you start to tighten up around him. Good. He wasn't going to last much longer himself. Not with the way you felt. Not with the way you looked. Not with the way you were gasping beneath him as you cried out his name in pleasure as you came.

"Fuck! Fuck!" Luke jerked back, pulling out of you, his cock barely removed from tight heat of you cunt before he began to cum, spilling hotly against the smooth skin of your inner thigh. "Goddamn. Fuck, baby," he panted, his head dropping to nuzzle against your hairline as his cock still twitched against your thigh with the remnants of his orgasm.

When he finally dragged himself away from you, Trevor was gone.

Luke reached around you, his hand on your hip keeping you balanced, and grabbed one of the picnic napkins that had been set there while he was unpacking. He carefully wiped your leg clean of his spend before he helped you stand, and waited until you both had your pants pulled up and belts buckled before he leaned back into you, cupping your face gently in his palms as he kissed you.

Now, in the aftermath, he felt worry twist in his stomach. Worry that his words had upset you. Worry that is was too much, too soon, too presumptuous. Worry that just because you had him feeling in a way he had never experienced before with any other woman, that you didn't feel the same.

His eyes were soft, hesitant, as he dragged his thumbs along your cheeks. "I'm sorry if I came off a little...strong. You kind of had me loosing my mind. But I meant it; that I want to be the only one you see. It's, uh... it's been a little while for me too. Nothing had ever really left right before. Not like this. And I would really like for this to be something serious. I want that with you."

You smiled back, a wide, beautifully blinding thing, and Luke felt the tension in his chest ease and relief, happiness, take its place. "I'd like that too," you replied softly, gazing up at him in wonder.

He couldn't stop himself from capturing your lips his his yet again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The whiskey glass was dangling loosely in Luke's fingers as he stared out of the window, at the sun starting to set over the mountains in the distance. Normally he found sunsets beautiful, but always tinged with melancholy. They had always represented the end of another empty day. Tonight, it felt different. Tonight, he saw the beauty, but didn't feel the sadness.

The light had almost completely faded by the time Trevor finally made an appearance. Luke didn't bother turning to face his brother. He didn't have to. He could feel the fury pouring off the other man.

"What the fuck was that today, huh?" Trevor hissed. "You know I have been trying to get with her!"

Luke's jaw clenched in anger when his brother mentioned you, his fingers tightening on the glass he held. "She deserves more than being just another one of your pump and dumps, Trevor."

"Oh and let me guess, you're the fucking golden boy that deserves her? That why your last girl dumped your ass for me?" Trevor's words were delivered with a nasty sneer, one that had Luke once again seeing red at the complete and casual disregard his brother had for him.

He wasn't thinking when he swung out at his brother, his fist landing solidly on the other man's jaw, knocking him back. "You fucking stay away from her, you hear me? Don't touch her, don't even talk to her. You are done with her. I am not going to let you fuck this up for me."

Luke's knuckles stung as he glared at his brother, waiting for whatever Trevor was going to say next, just knowing that his bother had something else cruel to say.

Trevor spit, saliva and blood mixing as it hit the hardwood floor. "Whatever man. You can keep the bitch. Although I'm sure you won't be able to hold on to her long. Poor, serious, boring Luke. I can wait. I'll enjoy plowing that sweet pussy all the more now."

Luke loved his brother. That was the only thing stilling his hand, keeping him from launching himself at Trevor again as the other man stalked away. Luke loved his brother. It was something he needed to constantly remind himself of, every single time Trevor opened his goddamn mouth.

He took a deep breath, forced himself to slow his breathing. It didn't matter what Trevor said. Luke knew you better than that. Knew you were the one he had been waiting for. Had known it since he had first laid eyes on you.

He took another breath and pulled his phone from back pocket, hitting your name in the messaging app.

Thinking of you.

The reply came quickly. Thinking about you too. I can't wait to see you again tomorrow :)

Me too. Goodnight sweetheart. Sweet dreams.

The sun was completely gone now. The room dark. But the glow from the phone screen was enough to light up the smile on Luke's face.

[droidrights]

Girl you're so real for that last Cal post. I can just imagine a scene in an alternative Always Red where Trilla is frustratedly trying to explain to Cal that killing your allies is a big No No. And he's just. On an unhinged rant about the poetry of love as violence and violence as love and the importance of unshakable bonds wherever they're found. And she's just like. Frustrated big sister sighing wanting to throttle the idiot for missing The Point and also now they need to have a convo about fraternising with the enemy

Oh boy, anon. You've gone and done it now. Please enjoy this In Between

Inquisitor Cal Kestis / Second Sister Trilla Suduri

1926 words

Trilla and Cal have a conversation where he tries to explain the inherent romance of hunting another human being and the merits of violence as a love language.

This takes place between Chapters 1 and 2 of Always Red.

It Won't Be Easy

Within the fortress Inquisitorius the day appeared much like any other. A sterile environment so pristinely kept that there is a reflective specter looking back in every surface. Outside, the weather is surprisingly pleasant. A sun is shining over the choppy sea that is normally battering the fortress with walls of salt water with wave after wave. 

The Second Sister stands, spine erect with her hands clasped neatly behind her back in the debriefing room before the massive window with her eyes on the horizon. The Fifth Brother rattles off the happenings of his most recent mission and his misgivings concerning their sister in arms, Trilla contemplates the rays of sunshine on the horizon, one’s she never thought possible on Nur. 

“She’s too unpredictable. It is a liability to have her on mission,” he complains in his baritone voice. 

“The unexpected can be made into an advantage if you are clever. Did you come here to tell me you are not clever?” Suduri’s tone is measured but belittling. 

“Ah, no Second Sister. I only have the Empire’s interest-“

“Allow your betters to concern themselves with the Empire’s interests. You just do as you’re told.”

“Yes, Second Sister.” 

“And do not concern me with the actions of your brethren unless I ask for an update directly. Assume I am already aware of their behavior.”

“Yes Second Sister,” is all the Fifth Brother can seem to say. 

“Next time there will be consequences,” she menaces casually. 

“Yes, Sec-“ 

Just then the absurdly tall sliding doors open with a dramatic whoosh. The thirteenth Brother ushers himself in as though he was announced. 

“Inquisitor Kestis,” Trilla pretends to sound annoyed at the lack of decorum. 

“In the flesh,” Cal’s tone is casual, a mockery of the Fifth Brothers rigidness. “Here for the Zeffo debriefing. Oh hey five,” Cal tosses the greeting across the way as he seats himself at the massive obsidian table, sliding his chair in with a screech. 

His nose is swollen, offset and bruised all over in purple and blue. Cal’s delightful demeanor does not lend itself to the condition of his face. 

“We are not yet fini-“ the Fifth Brother starts, clearly irritated. 

“You are dismissed, Fifth Brother.” Trilla cuts him off tersely and stands resolute and unchallenged. 

The corners of the Fifth Brother’s mouth turn down into a deep frown but he wastes no time getting to his feet. His displeasure is made known only by the short pause he spares beside Cal’s chair to look down his nose at his fellow Inquisitor. Unbothered, Cal lifts his legs to rest his feet on the arm of the nearest chair before twittering his fingers in a childish dismissal of his compatriot. 

Fifth Brother groans audibly and tosses a last look of disapproval at his superior before striding from the room. 

Cal crosses his arms over his chest and watches Trilla move away from the window. 

“I take it your mission was a success?” She asks with a mite less crispness in her voice. “Is the Jedi dead or captured?” 

“Neither,” Cal huffs with a laugh. “She escaped actually.” 

She looms over him then, unsubtle and threatening. “Then praytell, Inquisitor Kestis, how is it you’re before me smiling like an imbecile while you deliver news of your failure. Others have lost their lives for less.” 

“Trilla, Trilla, Trilla,” Cal nudges the nearest chair with the toe of his boot, inviting his superior to take a seat, as his feet thump onto the floor. “I think I’m in love”. 

Her sigh is heavy and drawn out before she resigns herself to Cal’s antics and sits beside him. 

“You always say that,” Trilla is exhausted, run ragged by her office. Inwardly, she enjoys the Thirteenth Brother’s informal and familiar attitude albeit when there are no others around to hear how she allows him to speak with her. 

“I do not,” Cal objects mildly, smirking all the while. 

“I won’t be lied to,” Trilla skewers his fib with an abjectly pointed finger. “And I would find it absolutely unacceptable if such a thing kept you from doing your job, though surprisingly I must admit that it does not.” It is Trilla now who lifts her legs to rest her boots on the arm of Cal’s chair. 

“Up to a certain point it’s the same process. Pursuing a lover, stalking prey. No matter how you slice that cake, a hunt is a hunt. The whole thing is inherently romantic”. 

“Your love is the chase then, and not the chased.” Trilla wants to make him eat his words even when she knows to engage him this way is a downward spiral where he must prove he is right. 

“Usually, but not this time.” Cal surprises her with this admission. “Well, yeah hunting her is-“ Cal pushes to look at the ceiling as though the word he is searching for is written there, “-exhilarating. But it’s more than that. When we fight it’s like…poetry.”

Trilla pinches the bridge of her nose. “I am positive beyond reason that I will regret this but…elaborate.” 

Cal purses his lips while taking a moment to search his mind before asking with a snap of his fingers, “you ever been to Lothal?”

“Unfortunately,” The Second Sister deadpans. 

“Then maybe you’ve seen a Loth-wolf. Big predators, smart, social, Jedi love ‘em. They’re normally pretty standoffish with the farmers there, not so troublesome if you leave them alone.”

“I haven’t seen one in person though I am familiar with the beasts.”

“So their diets mostly consist of wild Nerfs. You know what those are right?” 

“I beg you to make your point,” Trilla picks an invisible speck of lint off her cuff, grown bored. 

“I’m getting there. So they keep Nerfs as livestock on Lothal too but the farmed ones don’t get as big. They’re fat and dumb y’know. And it’s like I said the Loth-wolves mostly keep to themselves except every now and then they just swoop into a settlement and they will just completely slaughter every fucking nerf in the herd. I’m talking absolute bloodbath. Just one after another until there’s none left standing.” He’s grinning now.

Trilla becomes at least mildly interested once bloodshed is mentioned, like all Inquisitors do. “Slaughter you say?” The Second Sister feigns sarcasm though her piqued interest shines through. 

“And these farms can be huge. Hundreds of cattle, maybe thousands. And the weird thing is the wolves don’t even eat the meat. So why bother, right? They just leave once every Nerf is dead or they get chased off, but they only do it with the domesticated nerfs. It’s a behavior that’s only surfaced with the spread of commercial farming,” Cal pauses, expecting Trilla to find this information as interesting as he does. She doesn’t. 

Trilla releases a tired sigh and lays a heavy look on Cal. It frustrates him that she cannot guess where he’s going with this yet. She shrugs in response to his visible disappointment. 

“Come on, Trilla! How can you not see! It’s because they don’t know how to answer! They’re just-they’re” Cal stutters while his brain moves quicker than his mouth, usually the reverse is true. “They’re dead inside. Walking around, eating and pissing and shitting but you look in their eyes and they're dead already.” 

“Center yourself, Kestis. Start speaking sensically or I’m leaving.” Their philosophical discussions have unraveled this way in the past. 

Cal huffs a calming breath through his nostrils. 

“Everytime you start a hunt. You’re asking your quarry a question. Are you worthy enough of my pursuit or my energy? It has to nourish more than my body and if you aren’t up to the task it’s just killing for killing’s sake. Which is fine, but-” Cal’s eyes are full of emotion, of passion and heart. “When I say ‘I’m coming to kill you’ what I want to hear back is …‘it won’t be easy. Otherwise it’s just a one-sided conversation.”

Trilla’s nod is small. She reluctantly cedes that this sentiment is known to her. It’s the spark Cal has been waiting for and he is spurred to continue. 

“Livestock don’t understand the question. The wolves keep asking and all they hear is static. Working their way through an entire herd without a single response. These predators ignite an ancient ritual and they’re dancing alone.” 

“Sad,” Trilla’s gaze drifts to an empty spot on the meticulously clean floor. 

“Yes! It’s so sad!” Cal is overexcited to be understood. He pops up from his seat and plops back down.

“Alright then if I understand you correctly, and I do,” she claps her hands on her knees, “you fancy yourself a Loth-wolf and this Jedi from Zeffo is a …wild nerf and she is in a… conversation with you and this woman is decidedly not dead inside.” 

“Beautiful and smart,” Cal says with a smirk, much returned to his cavalier self. 

“Indeed,” Trilla stands and pulls on the hem of her uniform, smoothing out the wrinkles, while Cal remains casually seated.

“You should see her. When she’s fighting her eyes are full of fire that screams and burns,” his gaze is lost, gone somewhere, back to Zeffo. A moment later Cal remembers himself and looks at Trilla, who has been watching him. “It won’t be easy”.   

“But worth it, perhaps,” she mutters, as agreeable as Cal’s ever heard her. 

“Did you ever feel this way, hunting someone?” Cal asks rather innocently. 

“No,” Suduri answers speedily. “They are merely objectives.” 

“You wouldn’t describe my capture as …intimate?” His yellow eyes shine playfully. 

“Not at all,” Trilla does her best to mimic his flippant nature. “Nothing personal, Kestis.”

“Not ever?” The red leather of Cal’s gloves creak as he cracks his knuckles.

Trilla holds him in an unflinching gaze before lifting one shoulder rather coquettishly in a shrug. “No”.

“Hm,” Cal’s back straightens and he tilts his head, musing. “Then I guess you won’t ever understand what she and I have.” 

This rubs Suduri the wrong way and she is about to make it known until their heads turn in unison. Abruptly, the obsidian doorway opens with a whoosh admitting the Fourth Sister who sidles up to the table in confident strides before standing at attention. 

“Pardon the interruption Second Sister. I’ve compiled the report on Mapuzo that you requested.” Her raspy voice is harsh and stringent. 

“Just a moment,” Trilla says, turning her attention from the Fourth Sister to the Thirteenth Brother. She leans down over Cal gripping the armrests on either side of him, demeanor much changed. Only barely does Cal mask his amusement. “If you hunted this Jedi with half the vigor you spend waxing poetically about doing your job, it will have been done twice over. Your repeated failure does not endear you to me, Brother. Unless she is dealt with, do not return. Am I understood?” 

Cal stands slowly, causing Trilla to straighten, their eyes lock menacingly. Cal is infuriatingly calm and endlessly entertained. “Yes, Ma’am. Understood.” 

“Dismissed.” The command falls to the floor like a stone between them before Cal turns to leave. As he saunters to the door he hears the Trilla say, “Fourth Sister, if you see Inquisitor Kestis in the Fortress again without having logged a successful mission eliminate him on sight.” 

The Fourth Sister grins from ear to ear, casting a look at Cal over her shoulder. 

“Yes, Second Sister. With pleasure.” 

Cal ignores the theatrical display of authority and instead heads toward the hangar bay. Sources say that the Stinger Mantis has been sighted on Kashyyyk.

Tag List: @gabile18 @futuredisneyartist @hibernating4ever @i-am-mystic @elwethe @howlingmadlady @2badgersinatrenchcoat @trtc-745600 @teddiebuns @tinyplantinvasion @tytoowl @cafedeagua @sashyburi @jokidden @mongol55

[goatsorcery]

>:3 Alright Frank, my turn. Please share your bg3 brain worms (tadpoles). Favorite character(s)? Preferred companions? Do you have a consistent party? If not, how do you choose your members at any given time? I am very curious if it’s the latter because as I mentioned, I don’t really ever switch it up.

you said in the tags of your answer to write as many paragraphs as my feelings can fill… and well… it’s a lot haha :)

i love all the characters so much! they're all so unique, interesting, and charming in their own way. i'm only in act 2 myself (about to finish it though i think) so i haven't gotten to see everyone's full stories yet. narrowing down a favorite is so hard! i change up my party every once in a while, but consistently i still always bring wyll or shadowheart so I guess they would be my favorites!

i love wyll so much, im always a sucker for characters who are able to stay postive and optimistic even through the worst of times. I also love characters (especially in fantasy) who are primed to be the main character either from their backstories or narratively (alistair in dragon age and aragorn in lord of the rings are other examples); wyll, who is a monster hunter but is first and foremost a protector of the people, (there are other details about him that I wont spoil for you that also lend to this) has all the makings of a classic fantasy protagonist, but he never expresses the desire to be the leader (i guess, unless the player plays as him haha) or to get any recognition for helping cure the tadpoles. other possibly-spoilery tid-bits about him that break away from or invert fantasy character archtypes help to really round out his character in an interesting way.

I loved shadowheart pretty much instantly (shadowheart and lae’zel being the first two companions you meet is everything, i love them both and their dynamic so much) shadowheart is a bit of a mystery, even to herself, which is fascinating to me. I find her whole story, so far, really interesting, and I’m excited to see where it goes and what else is learned about her through the rest of the game. i love characters who are so dedicated to one goal to the point that it’s all that matters to them and it’s all they are, but then the story challenges their dedication or pulls them from it for a larger cause.

i switch up my party every once in a while, but its usually just to swap out characters for quests that are relevant to them or that i think will prompt dialogue or approval from them. i think my game is a bit bugged, because i didn't even realize there was party banter until very late into act 1 (also just might be  because i fast travel a lot) so i've been switching out characters more to see what conversations they can have.

my go-to parties in act 1 were wyll, shadowheart, and lae’zel or wyll, karlach, and lae’zel (this was mostly because of combat game play, karlach and lae’zel with their extra attack or shadowheart as an extra healer was so helpful when I was still trying to learn the combat system).

in act 2 my go to party is wyll, shadowheart, and karlach, or wyll, shadowheart, and halsin depending on if im just exploring/doing side-quests or if i know I’ll run into heavy combat. karlach regularly one-shots enemies with 30+ hp and having her extra attack is the only way i get through combat most of the time (even on the easiest difficulty, combat continues to kick my ass).

when I reach act 3, I plan on mixing up my party more, depending on what’s in store for act 3 (I have surprisingly not been spoiled on anything that happens in act 3).

combat is the main reason why i don’t switch up my parties more since i get used to having certain spells or abilities. on my second play through (which I’ve already started planning even though im not close to being done with my first lol) i plan on trying to mix up my groups more to get more banter and to spend time with other characters I haven’t had much chance to. I rarely take gale or astarion with me (unless there is a relevant quest) but only because of combat, i feel like other characters have more useful abilities then they do. which is a shame because i like them both a lot, and want to get to know them better. my tav is a cleric, so that also factors in to party make-up. gale’s party banter is always bugged for me as well which is a bummer, the captions will pop-up but his voice lines never play.

one thing i like so much about the characters is that they all have interesting interpersonal dynamics. it really only comes up in banter and the occasional camp conversation but its enough to make it feel like they're all actually interacting in camp. whether or not they fully get along, they still all seem to care about each other which i love! its the friend group you'd never expect (most of who would probably not get along or get the chance to interact if the circumstances were different) but they all end up being close in some way or another. shadowheart and lae'zel's dynamic is especially a favorite of mine, i always love characters who don't get along on the surface but are actually "no one's allowed to be mean to them except for me". shadowheart and astarion are a bit like this too, with each other, and astarion with the rest of the companions as well. another one of my favorite party dynamics is wyll, shadowheart, and astarion; three people I wouldn’t have expected to really get along but the first time i had them all in my party I triggered like three conversations in a row where they were flirting with each other (my favorite of their banters is astarion saying he’d drink from wyll if he could chose anyone in camp after shadowheart asks him and then her sounding disappointed that he didn’t pick her. in my play through shadowheart then asked astarion if he was single less than a minute later lol).

my favorite character dynamics are:

wyll and karlach

wyll, astarion, and shadowheart

shadowheart and lae’zel

[machifuwa]

World's Most Beautiful Mirror | Episode 6

After school, the same day

Shinobu: .....

Yuuta: ...Hey, Shinobu-kun.

I already told you to stay out of this, didn't I? It's for the better.

I'm going to spit in the faces of the higher-ups in this industry. You wouldn't want to be on the side of someone like that, right?

It'll damage the signature of "Ryuseitai", an ally of justice, y'know. If you turn out to be as bad as I am, your "Ryuseitai" might despise you too.

You wouldn't like that, right? Nobody wants to play the role of the bad guy, after all.

Go home.

Shinobu: ...Ninjutsu: the art of hiding.

Yuuta: What?

Shinobu: Yuuta-kun is now under my ninjutsu and will now start acting in the opposite direction.

In fact, what you're seeing right now is just my hallucination, and the real one is behind the combination over thereー

Yuuta: *hits him*

Shinobu: Ouch! N-No to violence!

Yuuta: I didn't even hit you that hard. If you were Aniki, I would've jump-kicked you.

Shinobu: Violence is not a matter of degree! Whether you hit hard or weakly is equally evil!

Wait, aah, I wasn't hit at all.

Fufufu. Stupid Yuuta-kunーyou didn't even realize that you hit me on the wrong spot? How shameful.

Yuuta: What are you getting at? Look, you're starting to piss me off like any other people, so why don't you just disappear from my sight?

You know, using your ninjutsu and stuff. One poof then get lost.

Shinobu: Ninjutsu is only used to escape from enemies.

And, Yuuta-kun is not my enemy.

Yuuta: Right now, you're using something called the art of hiding. And since you're using ninjutsu at this very moment, it means that you think of me as an enemy, right?

Shinobu: Ah... Y-You're wrong! The art of hiding is an exception. It's used only with allies. I'm telling the truth!

Yuuta: Whatever~ I know nothing about ninjas.

Shinobu: If you're interested, I can teach you a thing or two about them! Ninjas, I mean! I can talk about them with you every week, since they're basically my favorite!

Yuuta: I don't want to be stuck with an Otaku's pointless and long conversations, though.

Shinobu: Ahh, he ran away! Wait, Yuuta-kun!

Fufufu. You're shallow if you think you can escape ninjas that easily...!

Yuuta: (...What the hell was that?)

(Why does he keep coming after me? Even though I said some really harsh things that would make him want to vomit from self-loathing.)

(Why do you care? Is it because we're friends? What friends?)

(What would a normal kid like him know? A normal kid who was loved by normal parents, who went to normal schools and made normal friends.)

(I don't understand...! Why was I even born as a special childーwho doesn't even understand such ordinary things?)

1 hour later

Yuuta: (Fuu... I somehow got away from him.)

(Shinobu-kun, I gotta admit, I had a hard time because you were persistently chasing me, you were surprisingly fast and seemed to be good at tailing...as expected of a ninja.)

(But I've also got my share of chasing! I've always played tag with Aniki since I was little, after all!)

(That one time when he did something stupid and I just got mad so I started chasing himー)

(...Thanks to him, I had forgotten about all the bad stuff. Even if nothing was solved, it would have been somewhat refreshing to catch that Aniki and put him through so much pain.)

(That's how I've always healed...by sandbagging my own brother.)

(I felt satisfied in making Aniki the symbol of all evil in the world and beating him into pulp. "Yeah, I'm on the good side compared to this kid"ーthey say.)

(I'm on the side of justice, they say.)

(But. This is no good, I'll just end up feeling sorry for "Hinata-kun" in the end.)

(That's why I'm going to be the devil this time.)

(No, from the very beginning, the one who has always been evil wasー)

Shinobu: Yu~uta-kun ♪

Yuuta: Hiyeaaaahhhh!?

Shinobu: Woah, what a scream you got there. Don't tell me you never noticed that I was behind you all this time?

Hmm. I'm afraid that my art of concealment is more advanced than I thought.

Yuuta: ...What do you want.

Come to think of it, I'm currently disguising myself as "Byakuya Aoi" so, how'd you know that it was me?

Shinobu: Fufun. A ninja's eyesight cannot be fooled! It's obvious at just a glance!

Yuuta: When you first met him, you were like "Who!?" and panicked, though?

Shinobu: ...Yuuta-kun, do you want some ice cream?

Yuuta: Huh? It's winter, right?

Shinobu: Ice cream in winter is still very special. Every year, new ice cream products for such customers line up in convenience stores and other places for them.

And I'm one of those people who gets excited and buys them every year.

Yuuta: Hmm...

Shinobu: ...I've always wanted a friend whom I can talk to about these not-so-important things.

Yuuta: If you wanna talk about that stuff, you have "Ryuseitai", don't you?

Shinobu: We've...got a lot of problems.

We don't really stop talking about work, or the future of the unit, I'll end up having a stomachache and won't be able to eat ice cream.

Yuuta: I get you. In my case, not so much now, but before, my family, friends and colleagues...they were all Anikiーso if we get into a fight, it's gonna be really bad.

The whole world would be so dark. As if it was always night. I couldn't see a thing.

Shinobu: I know.

I want you to talk about all that, important and not-so-important things. I...want to know more about Yuuta-kun.

Yuuta: Do you meanーyou're gonna be a bad guy with me?

Shinobu: Nope. I'm still a member of "Ryuseitai" who stands alongside justice, so I can't get involved in any wrongdoing.

Yuuta: Then, this conversation is officially over~

Shinobu: I won't let it end. I'm not going to become a proper hero if I overlook evil, and I'm not a proper human being if I abandon my friends in distress.[1]

I'm just a mere coward and I don't think I can do bad things together with Yuuta-kun. I can't really sympathise because I have never thought about wanting to take revenge on someone.

Yuuta: .....

Shinobu: Even so, I might be able to help Yuuta-kun defeat his enemies in a different way. I'll use my head for that, and I'll do whatever I can to help him.

Even if Yuuta-kun doesn't want that, "I'll" still do it.[2]

That's my decision.

Yuuta: This is really selfish. Why am I always surrounded by people like you.

Maybe I...could have been selfish like you. I could have been angry at "me" for being a bad guy, for disobeying my parents, and other precious peopleー

It's not like I was forbidden for acting normal like everyone else to begin with...

Shinobu: It's not like anyone was forbidden to do this or that in the first place, you know.

Yuuta: Yeah... Can I have some ice cream too?

I don't like sweets that much, but when I saw it, I wanted to try some.

Shinobu: I don't really mind, but I'm not treating you, okay? Pay for it.

Yuuta: Eeh~? Shinobu-kun, you're too cheap~!

Shinobu: I've already told you many timesーI'm broke.

Yuuta: .....♪

Shinobu: .....♪

Notes:

Surprisingly, Shinobu started talking here in a more 'normal' way, without the "degozaru"s.

Shinobu finally used the first person pronoun "Boku" here, which Yuuta seemed to prefer from the past episodes.

Prev | All | Next

Season: Winter

Translated by machi

[ota-division]

Birds of Prey Drama Track 1 - The Future Is Now

Pt. 2

— Ōta City, Ōta City Suburbs —

[Kira is in her car, driving home from work. The frown seen on her face indicates that she is not in the best of moods.]

Kira: Fucking old prick. *Growls* Getting on me for something that wasn't even my fault!

Earlier in the day...

— Ōta City, Ōta Police Station —

Kira: I really hope he's been golfing and it put him in a good mood. ...Or that he's had one of his oh-so-special "liquid lunches".

[After being informed that the mayor had wanted to speak with her, Kira sighed as she mentally prepared herself for the lecture she was about to receive.]

Kira: *Picking up the phone* Detective Chinen speaking.

Nishikawa Sanjiro[1]: *On the other end of the phone* Are you really a detective, Chinen? *Snarls* Are you?!

Kira: Well, I think...

Sanjiro: *Interrupts her* Because I don't believe a real detective would let the town work itself into such a frenzy of panic! I've barely been able to fend off the phone calls!

Kira: *Frowning* Panic? People don't seem too disturbed these days that we've been...

Sanjiro: *Interrupts her again* Well, maybe that was before that damn reporter decided to make a mockery of your investigation!

Kira: ...What?

[Seeing a newspaper laying nearby on another officer's desk, Kira was relieved it was today's issue and looked at the front page as bold black words sat on stark on the white paper, making the investigator's heart sink into her stomach as she read the headline.]

"The Misfit in Action Strikes Again! The Ōta City Police are left scratching their heads as daredevil rogue continues to outwit and outrun authorities! Will the villainous bandit continue to go unpunished? Find out more inside. Written by Iseri Akemi[2]."

Kira: *Crushing the paper in her fist* I am going to kill them!

Sanjiro: *Loudly* You'll do no such thing, Inspector. I will be dealing with that so-called reporter! You, on the other hand, will be out patrolling tomorrow night and showing the town you're on top of this.

Kira: Mayor, with all due respect, I really don't think me out patrolling will help get this investigation going.

Sanjiro: Well I'm afraid that's just too bad, Chinen. *In a mocking tone* Your precious police chief assured me that you were up to this job. And if you're not, tell me now, and I'll gladly find someone who is.

Kira: *Sighs, keeping her emotions in check* Understood, Mayor.

Sanjiro: Thank you, Inspector. I expect a copy of your report on my desk by Friday afternoon.

Kira: Yes sir.

[With that, the conversation ended, surprisingly, on a relatively calm and civil note. Placing the phone down on the receiver, the investigator groaned out loud as she placed a hand over her face, annoyed.]

???: Inspector?

[Lifting her head, Kira turned to the side and looked as the voice belonged to none other than the mayor's own son, Utamuro. Kira couldn't help but give the boy an annoyed look, though she knew none of what had transpired was his fault.]

Kira: Muro, do me a favor from now on.

Utamuro: *Worried* Y-yes ma'am?

Kira: *Turns to look at him* Next time, please do not surprise me with a call from your father. I need time to mentally prepare for it. If he calls, tell him I'm unavailable.

Utamuro: *Looks down in shame* Y-yes, ma'am. Sorry.

[Sighing, Kira gave the boy a pat on the shoulder before departing.]

Current time...

— Ōta City, Chinen Residence —

[Parking her car into the family's driveway, Kira was prepared to enter her adobe until she felt her cell phone vibrating in her pocket. Pulling it out, she frowned further as the Caller ID read 'Akemi'. She debated whether to let the call go straight to voicemail or answer it and see what the hell that obnoxious person wanted. Sighing, she hit the green 'Accept' button and placed the phone to her ear.]

Akemi: Hello, beautiful.

Kira: *Frowning at the nickname* What do you want, Kimmy?

Akemi: *In a tense voice* I just had the most interesting conversation with the mayor.

[Kira, though she knew it was wrong, found it hard to contain the half-smile on her face, as she could tell exactly how that "conversation" went.]

Akemi: Seems he didn't appreciate my story, especially considering the source of the information.

Kira: *Sarcastically* Gee, I wonder why? Maybe it had something to do with the fact that you were milking the mayor's own son for information?

Akemi: Oh, please! I didn't press the kid! If he didn't want me talking to him, all he had to do was say so! But he seemed quite pleased to tell me all I wanted to know.

Kira: Yes, and look what happened as a result. I got yelled at, and now I have to lose valuable sleep going on patrol because of you!

Akemi: *Nonchalantly* We all have to make sacrifices, beautiful. You are sadly not excluded from that.

Kira: *Annoyed* What do you want, Kimmy? Why are you calling me?

Akemi: I just called to let you know I won't be using the mayor's kid as a reference anymore. Of course, that now means I have to find another source of information. One that the mayor can't shut up so easily.

Kira: ...And? You called me just to tell me that?

Akemi: *Teasingly* That, and the fact that I'm always available if you need a good lay. I remember that you seemed so...

Kira: Goodbye, Kimmy.

[Hanging up the phone and ending the call before the reporter could react, Kira sighed as she walked up the doorstep and into the house.]

Kira: *Sighing* I'm home.

Taria: About time you got here, sis!

[Kira looked as her younger sister was sitting on the living room couch, watching T.V. while her older sister sat at the kitchen table, her hand on her head. She looked quite upset.]

Kira: *Suscipious* What's going on?

Chinami: *Looking up at her* I'm glad you're here, Kira. I needed to speak with you and Taria about something, so I was waiting until you got home.

Taria: Yeah! And apparently, it was so important, she said she needed both of us here. *Rolls her eyes*

Kira: *Nods* Give me a sec to get situated, and I'll be back.

[Heading to her room, the middle sister discarded her overcoat and switched into a tank shirt and some army cameo pants before coming back to the kitchen. Taria was there, her head resting on her fist, bored out of her mind. Chinami continued sitting at the head of the table, her hands clasped together. Kira took a seat in between the two, and as she did, Taria took that time to speak.]

Taria: Okay, we're all here. Now can you please spill what was so fucking important you had to wait for us?

[Sighing, more so out of her younger sister's impetuousness, Chinami reached into her pocket and took out the paper that was given to her by the officials from earlier in the day.]

Chinami: *Slides the paper to Kira* Some Chuohku officials visited me today.

[At this, both of the seer's younger sisters looked at their eldest sibling with shock and surprise in their eyes.]

Kira: *Surprised* C-Chuohku?

Chinami: *Nods* Yes.

Taria: What the hell for?! What did we do?

Chinami: *Sighs* The Prime Minister, Otome Tohoten, she requested that I work for her as her personal seer.

Kira: Again? You refused though, right?

Chinami: Of course.

Taria: Okay, you said 'no'. End of story, right?

Chinami: If only that were so. *Places her hands in front of her* Apparently, the Prime Minister's patience has run out. I've refused her so many times and now she demands that I pay for it.

Taria: Pay for it how? With money?

Chinami: *Looks at Taria* If it were just money, this wouldn't be so bad. No, she's demanding that I enter the Division Rap Battle.

[At the elder's announcement, time seemed to stand still. Both girls processed what their elder sibling had just said until the message became clear.]

Kira & Taria: ...What?!

Kira: You mean... they're forcing you to enter the D.R.B.?

Chinami: *Nods* Yes.

Taria: All because you didn't want to be the Prime Bitch's personal lackey to see into the future?!

Chinami: *Frowns* Crudely put, Taria, but yes.

[Kira, still in shock, looked at the paper Chinami had placed on the table. Picking it up, she looked at it and began reading it for everyone present.]

Kira: Dear Chinami Chinen, as you probably are aware, the upcoming Division Rap Battle Tournament will commence in just a few short weeks. As the leader of the Party of Words and Japan’s current Prime Minister, I am sending you this letter to inform you that, as of this moment, you are now a willing participant in the D.R.B., and have been selected to represent Ōta Division in the tournament. Along with this letter are three Hypnosis Microphones, one for you and two for people whom you will choose as your partners for the tournament.

Kira: You have exactly one week from today to find two other people in your division who will be fighting alongside you in the tournament. After you have found them, you will register their names, as well as the name of your team, in the roster. Your opponent(s) in the tournament is unknown at this present time, but information will be sent to you and your team in the coming weeks about the other teams. During that time, I advise you and your teammates practice with your HypMics and get familiar with one another's strengths and weaknesses so that you may prevail in the tournament.

Kira: The people of Ōta speak positively about you. Despite only being a seer and character evaluator, you have helped people's lives tremendously. Plus, considering your previous occupation as a singer and lyricist in one of the most well-known rap groups ever created, I believe you will add a great amount of flair to this tournament. I am looking forward to your performance. Do not disappoint me. Sincerely, Otome Tohoten.

Kira: P.S. Do keep in mind that your entry into this tournament is mandatory. Failure to register your team in time will be seen as insubordination and will be treated as such. You will be fined and jailed, and your siblings shall have to live without you. Do keep that in mind. If you do not wish to enter, then please come to Chuohku at your earliest convenience and we can see about having you and your division removed from the roster.

[As Kira finished reading the letter, everyone at the table was silent. Chinami, who couldn't read the letter due to her blindness, now wished she hadn't given Kira the letter, as hearing her read off word for word what was written made her heart hurt. Kira, likewise, was thinking similar thoughts. She worked for Chuohku, so she was familiar with the sort of underhanded things that they did and do. But this... blackmailing her own sister? This took the cake.]

Taria: Those... those fucking bitches!

Kira: Taria!

Taria: *Ignores Kira* How fucking petty can you get?! That bitch is mad just because Nami refused to work for her! And now, just to get even, she's forcing her to enter some tournament?!

[Neither of her older sisters could dispute what their younger sister had just said. Because as much as they didn't want to, they agreed with everything she had just said.]

Taria: And what's more, it's not like they really want her to join! The bitch even wrote in her letter that if Nami went to Chuohku, they'd take her name off the list! She's just throwing a hissy fit cause she's not used to anyone saying 'no' to her!

Kira: *Sighs* So, what are you gonna do, Chinami?

Chinami: ...That's actually why I asked you both here tonight. *Looks at them both* What should I do?

Kira: *Confused* What do you mean?

Chinami: *Sighs* I mean, should I accept the Prime Minister's offer? To become her personal seer?

Taria: Of course not! Are you dense or something?

Kira: Taria!

Taria: *Ignores Kira again* Working for Chuohku is like selling your life away! And you'll be working for the Prime Bitch, herself, which is 10 times worse!

Kira: *Sighs at her younger sister* As much as I dislike her way of framing it... *Looks at Chinami*...I agree with Taria. You shouldn't have to do something you don't want to. It's sad that the Prime Minister is doing this. But trust me, if you join Chuohku, you'll regret it for the rest of your life. I've had friends who left to join Chuohku. And once they did, trust me, they were never the same again.

[Though Kira was saying all this, she knew deep in her heart the real reason why she didn't want Chinami to join Chuohku.]

Kira: Only one Chinen should have to bear the brunt of working for the government. It shouldn't be either of them.

Chinami: *Sighs* Okay, so we're all in agreement. I won't go to Chuohku.

Kira: *Nods, smiling* Right.

Taria: Well, obviously.

Chinami: But... *Places her hands in front of her* ...if I refuse to join, then my only other option is to join the D.R.B., which means... entering the world of rap once more.

[Both younger sisters were silent as they realized what this meant: their oldest sibling would be going back to the one thing she despised. ...Well, not so much despised, but disliked. Why? Because it took away someone that was very important to Chinami: her husband, Haru.]

Taria: ...Well, do you even have to enter it?

Chinami: Yes, I do, Taria. If I refuse, I'll be arrested for disobeying an official order from the Prime Minister.

Taria: Well... what if we run away? Like, go to another city or something? There are plenty of towns to choo...

Chinami: *Interrupts* That is one thing we are not going to do. We don't have the money or funds to suddenly move to another place, Taria.

Kira: Even if we did, it wouldn't matter. Chuohku would find us no matter where we go. Their reach extends all over Japan.

Chinami: *Nods at Kira* Exactly. And besides that, why should we be forced to leave our home? We've lived in this city for years. We can't leave now.

Taria: *Puts her hands up* Okay, okay. Sorry I suggested it.

Kira: *Looks back at Chinami* So, you're really doing this then?

Chinami: *Sighs* I'm afraid I have no choice.

Kira: *Places her hand over Chinami's* Come on, don't fret. It's not your fault.

Taria: *Sighs, putting her hands behind her head* Yeah, Kira's right. It's not your fault that Prime Bitch has a stick up her ass.

Chinami: *Softly chuckles* Thank you. *Looks at both her sisters* Both of you.

Taria: So, if you're actually entering this tournament, I guess that means you're gonna get your old crew back together.

Chinami: *Sadly shakes her head 'no'* As much as I'd like to, I'm afraid I can't ask any of them.

Taria: *Frowns* Why not?

Chinami: *Sighs* The last I spoke to them, Aimi was too busy working on their music album. And Nori is helping them. And I haven't kept in contact with Reiko. She seems to have gone back to acting, for good.

Taria: Well, what about what's his name? The tall, scary guy?

Chinami: *Shakes her head 'no'* I don't know what happened to Oki. He disappeared after C H A R O N broke up. And even if I knew where he was, I couldn't ask him. *Looks down* He and I... we didn't exactly part under the best of circumstances.

Taria: So, you've no idea who you're going to choose as your partners? Smart move.

Chinami: *Frowns* I didn't exactly have a lot of time to think or prepare, Taria.

Kira: *Interrupts them both* Wait, you said that you need two teammates to register?

Chinami: *Nods, confused* Yes...?

Kira: Then... *Points to herself and Taria* ...what about us?

Chinami: ...What?

Taria: *Is shocked* What?!

Kira: You need two people to enter, and there are two of us. Plus you, that makes three. That's an entire team right there.

Chinami: *Worried* Kira, I don't...

Taria: *Interrupts* No fucking way! I'm not joining some rap tournament to appease some governmental pricks!

Chinami: *Frowns at Taria, before looking back at Kira* Sorry Kira, but I have to agree with Taria on this. This is my problem. I don't want to get you two involved.

Kira: *Scowls at Taria* Sorry Taria, but you have no say-so in the matter. I'll explain to you why in private once we're done here.

Taria: *Shocked* What?!

Chinami: *Is confused* Wha...

Kira: *Looks back at Chinami* And Chinami, I appreciate you wanting to try to keep us out of danger, but you have no choice. You only have a week to register your team. And I doubt you'd find two more people in time who are going to want to join you. In case you forget, Chouhku isn't exactly well-liked around here.

Kira: *Continues her argument* It takes time to get to know and trust your teammates. And that's time you could easily spend getting yourself and your teammates prepared. Out of everyone in this city, you know us the best, and we know you the best.

Chinami: Yes, but...

Kira: *Interrupts* But nothing. Be honest Chinami, would you rather be fighting alongside a couple of strangers you know nothing about? *Points to herself and Taria* ...Or would you rather be fighting alongside your own sisters, whom you know you can trust to watch your back?

[Before the eldest sibling could answer, Kira stood up from the table, signaling Taria to do the same.]

Kira: Just think about it for a bit, okay? Taria and I have something to discuss. *Looks at Taria, scowling* Come with me, please.

Taria: Wha...?

Kira: Now, Taria.

Taria: Okay, okay.

[Following Kira, the two younger sisters left their eldest in the kitchen with only her thoughts and the Hypnosis Microphones still in the large, steel suitcase, as her company. She could vaguely hear the two talking, and Chinami sighed as she puts her hands over her face. She felt something land on her left shoulder and knew by the weight and smell that it was her pet raven, Karasu, who chose now to reveal himself. Smiling sadly at the bird, she gently pet it on the head, as she continued to wonder just how and why this was all happening...]

To be continued...

Nishikawa Sanjiro - The current mayor of Ōta City. He sees himself as a revolutionary, and claims that he has big plans for his city. He has so far claimed all but a few areas of the city as his own, with the police station being his last major opposition. He is universally disliked not only by most of the police force, but also by some of the residents of Ōta for his seemingly greedy and self-centered behavior.

Iseri Akemi - Ōta City's most well-known and most infamous reporter. She is always on the lookout for the latest scoop for her paper, "The Ōta City's Early Bird". And if push comes to shove, she has no problem stretching or overexaggerating the truth in order for her papers to sell. This has often put her in the crosshairs of many people in the city, who either dislike her for what she writes, or for where she gets her sources from. She and Kira were previously an item, but their relationship ended badly after Akemi misinterpreted and miswrote something that Kira had said in an interview, which got her in serious heat with the mayor. Despite their breakup, Akemi still has a bad habit of making more work for Kira because of her articles.

[shield-maiden-of-sherwood]

A Dream Deferred - PT 3

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

A Piece Offering

I squinted at my computer screen. My eyes burned as they kept moving in and out of focus. Despite the lack of sleep, I was determined to make up for my lost writing time. As I  struggled to force words to materialize on the page, my intense focus is broken when a knock sounded on the door. I turned to glare at it. Another knock and I was up from my seat. "What now?" I groan, unbolting the door and slowly opening it. Seeing Pete, surprisingly dressed for once in blue jeans and a black v-neck polo, I groan and start to close the door, but he puts his hand between the doorframe and door to block it. "Wait!" Sighing, I open the door. "What? I'm a bit busy." He smiles. "Seeing how our conversation went last time, I wanted to come and offer you a peace offering." "I told you I'm not interested." Much to my surprise, he reaches into his pocket and holds out a small envelope. "Here." I look at the envelope and then back at him without moving. "Take it." He says, urging me. Hesitantly, I grab the envelope and turn it over, shrugging. "What is it?" "Tickets." He smiles. "To my show tonight. I'm performing in a theater production of Much Ado About Nothing as Don John." 

He pauses for what I assume to be a dramatic effect before his smile falls. "You know...the Shakespeare play?" "I know it's a Shakespearean play." I snap. "A bit presumptuous, isn't it? Inviting somebody to a show that you're in as an apology?" I glance down at the envelope with a scoff. "Like Hey, I'm sorry I wasted your time with my groupies. Come waste more of your time coming to watch me!" "

I look up, hoping my barb hit him where it hurt but he just shrugs it off. He motions with his chin toward the envelope. "Perhaps it is but, to show you that I mean well, there's two tickets in there so you may bring whomever you wish. Friend, sibling, parent, Boyfriend... Girlfriend." I raise a brow and he smiles. "Whomever."

I open my mouth to decline once more as my phone starts ringing. Pulling it from my pocket, I notice it's Yuri and my brows crease.

"So.. what do you say? Will you come tonight?"

I wave him off as I poise my finger over the button to answer my phone.  "I'll think about it," I mutter, answering as I start to close the door. This time I'm prepared for him to stop the door but am relieved when it shuts, only with him calling out from behind the door.

"Times are on the tickets!"

I walked a few steps. "Hey, Yuri." 

"Who was that? Hope I'm not disturbing you."

I inwardly groan. "No. It was just Pete. What's up?"

"I was calling to see if you had plans in case you want to hang out tonight. It's been a long day of Karens and I can use some distraction."

I glance down at the envelope in my hand. It takes me a moment before I realize she asked a question. 

"Hello?" Yuri asks. "You there Abby?"

"Yeah, Sorry." I frown as I feel my face burn with embarrassment.

"What did Pete want?"

To annoy me. I sigh, leaning against the arm of my couch. "He was coming to offer me tickets to his show tonight in Central Park. He's apparently appearing in a Shakespeare play."

"I love plays!" She says. "Let's go to it! I've always wanted to see Pete perform on stage. He talks about his background in theater all the time and I'd love to see if he really does have the acting chops he claims."

I glance over at my computer. "I don't know... I really should try to get some writing done."

"Are you working tonight?"

"Well...no, but..."

"No more excuses. We're going."

I press my lips together in a line. In the short amount of time I've known Yuri, I knew there was no arguing with her. If she said something was going to happen, it was.  

"Fine." I sigh. I take out the tickets, examining them for the times. "Looks like I'll see you around four."

[ram-de]

i am shooting myself

in the foot. metaphorically. i don't know.

i have binge-watched three seasons of survivor. the show is unavailable in my country and it's a hassle to buy vpn and paramount+ and not to mention the currency conversion and all that stuff. and it's a pain watching with such slow speed. either way. i liked survivor a bit too much. i think in my head, maybe i'm thinking, oh, so that's what happens when people are interacting, socializing, scheming, doing, living. it's interesting. it's fun.

i looked for suggestion to which seasons is a-must, etc. etc. and reddit being reddit suggested i started to 1. mind you, there's 46 seasons going on. watching from s1 would be a slog. so fuck that.

season 7, pearl islands is the one i watched first. and my first impression is the charm of the show. i thought i wouldn't like it (since it's an old show, 2003, 4:3, etc.) but i liked it lots. the missions are simple, but the storyline are enchanting. i have people to roots for, twist to look forward, i think the biggest gimmick in this season is the outcast which is exciting, because what is better to root for than the underdogs? also morgan drake lost a lot of challenges early on it was painful to watch lol

season 28, cagayan aka brain vs brawn vs beauty. now here, i got introduced to lot of what would be the show's common features? flicks? stuff like hidden immunity idol, less focused on the survival challenges (compared to 7, i mean. they had to trade with the locals to get early stuff, does a lot more of fishing, less player that knows how the game works). and the premise, oh it's so good. grouping people based on their most distinct traits and have it like kinda influence them a bit. my favorite player would be spencer because he's nerdy cute and just how excited he was to play. his final speech when he was a jury later on, about respecting the game was +++. (he was later revealed to be anti vaccine which kinda disappoints and why i shouldn't look for the players actual life after show lol) i also like chaos kass a bit too much. the entertainment is abundant. i am having lots of fun and joy. deserved win for tony because how can you pull that off?

season 37, david vs goliath. now, this is what's recommended for the 'new era' of survivor. personally i didn't like it as much. the premise was ok. christian was a dork and i like him. the davids cast was ok. the goliaths are exhausting to watch. it felt like watching club of popular rich kids, too much flirting for my liking, it was also the first time i've heard of the term showmances. keep that away from me lol. surprisingly i loved when the tribe swaps. natalie / angelina's tribal council scene was so funny. christian's antics with the dudebros (brochacos), nick naming all his alliances. and alec. alec!! i was rooting for him!!!! i wanted both alec and christian in the final 4 at least so it bummed me so bad when he was eliminated. at that point i wasn't feeling watching the show for the rest of them. christian felt too much like a threat. and when he was eliminated, i don't even felt like continuing. then i've read some discussion post and found out alec won't even be in the final because of some nda stuff. no!!!!! so i haven't watched the final. rip.

i wanted to write about how watching survivor is another distraction and it's running out as well. and how it's a subtle reminder of people with lives and jobs. meanwhile i'm doing nothing just entertaining myself alone in front of the screen for three? four days straight. it's pathetic and miserable. it's turning into a vent blog. damn it. i'm just. i felt like i'm my biggest enemy right now. i'm the biggest hindrance to my own progress and my own future. i don't know if i'm thinking straight. i haven't congratulated my sisters for delivering a baby... i've ignored my mom's messages. i've ignored academics works. this should have be a wake up call, but i don't feel like it. it's so easy for me to ignore everything, God. I'm not making good decisions. yet i don't feel the same guilt i used to have as before. when decisions doesn't feel like it have weights even when it should, how bad when the time comes that i'll break myself until i can't move forward any longer?