#whatever. i’ll just work less hours. this is so annoying but also. less work for me! unless this gets fully sorted

[treecakes]

whyyy does my school suck lol. but also maybe this is working in my favour for now lol.

[kentopedia]

easy living

FEATURING. nanami kento x f!reader — wc: 3.9k

SUMMARY: after many stressful weeks at work, nanami plans a relaxing beach vacation for the two of you.

CONTENTS: soft nanami <33, surprise beach trips, extra extra sweet, salaryman nanami era, sfw!!

note: so lol this was a request, but it took me so long to finish, and their account is no longer active :,) also i could tell you this is an au, but i won't & it isn't! i guess i love suffering so just know this takes place during nanami's canon salaryman era

Nanami had always been perceptive to the subtle changes in your mood, even when you tried to hide them from him. He could sense a slight downturn of your lips with his eyes closed, could feel any rueful air disseminating from you as you attempted to distract yourself from whatever gave you grief.

To others, Nanami could be indifferent, his naturally stoic expression causing him to appear uncaring. Though, you knew that was far from the truth—perhaps, he just saved all of his display of emotion for you.

That’s what made it so difficult to hide your worries from him.

When you returned to your apartment that evening, you were exhausted and worn down from too many hours spent at labor. Your feet were sore from uncomfortable shoes and your back ached along each notch of your spine. With a deep inhale, you scrubbed your hand over your face, hoping to dispel any obvious signs of trouble before opening the door to your bedroom.

Kento was sitting against the bedframe with a book resting in his lap, the lamp casting a warm glow over the otherwise darkened room.

Although you knew he wouldn’t be annoyed with your complaints, you didn’t want to bother him when you weren’t the only one who had been working hard recently. Nanami had logged more hours at the office in the past few weeks, and only now, was he finally getting a reprieve.

It seemed cruel to unload your burdens onto him when he had already settled in for the night. Besides, it was nothing you couldn’t handle.

As you stepped through the doorframe, Kento set the book down, eyes on you with that ever-patient, gentle smile of his. “You’re back late,” he said, and you couldn’t help but hear the hint of concern in his voice. He regretted taking a job that demanded so much of him, and naturally, he wanted to spare you from the same troubles.

Although, as much as you hated the job you were at, you’d been having trouble finding one that was better for you, both in an emotional and financial sense. Which, really, led you to feeling that there was no other choice but to tough it out, just as you always had.

“They gave me a last-minute project that needed to be done before tomorrow. I didn’t really have a choice.”

Kento opened his mouth, before he closed it and sighed instead. You could tell he wanted to argue, but you’d been through it too many times before. With the world you lived in, it was only natural to feel chained to your career from time to time—you were certain he knew that better than anyone. “Did you eat already?”

The feeling of tears was heavy against your eyelids as you turned away from him, shrugging off your stiff blouse. You knew that if you met his gaze, you might just melt into him, releasing the irrational wave of emotion that you’d been holding back all day.

“Not yet,” you said with as much optimism as you could manage, but with even the smallest change in your voice, Kento could see right through you.

He didn’t comment on the way your voice broke, the way that you were worn out, your features much less full of life than usual. His feet were quiet on the carpet as he padded over to you, his hands soft against your bare shoulder. “Okay. There’s plenty of leftovers in the fridge. I’ll warm them up for you.”

You smiled as he gave you a quick kiss on the forehead, squeezing your hand comfortingly. Visibly, you relaxed, and you watched him make his way out the door to the next room.

“Kento?” You stopped him just as he was shutting the door with a click, the knob twisting into the hinges.

“Yes?” he hummed, sticking his head around the doorframe. His blonde hair was freshly washed, the delicate strands falling over his forehead softly. He looked so much younger without the corporate attire, the serious frown plastered on to his lips. Flannel pajama pants fell loose on his hips, and he wore a t-shirt that he’d probably had since he was nineteen.

Your heart felt warm and light in your chest.

“Thank you.”

Kento smiled, his eyes brightening as they always did. “You’re welcome, darling.”

With some renewed energy, you forced yourself into the shower, scrubbing your body until the grime from the morning felt like it’d been whisked away. While you were normally adamant about fulfilling every part of your nightly routine, you skipped a few steps, too tired to ignore the aches in your body.

Nanami had already set a plate of hot food on the table for you when you finally dried off and changed into clean clothes.

He sat comfortably, watching you with his head in his palm. You took a seat beside him, your eyes heavy, and you contemplated resting your head against his shoulder before deciding it’d be too difficult to eat that way.

“I’ve been thinking about taking some time off.”

After taking a bite, you smiled, envisioning it for just a moment. “I think that’s a great idea.” You swallowed, not even realizing how hungry you were, and regarded him with warmth as you observed all the signs of his fatigue. “You deserve a break.”

“At the beginning of June, I think. Maybe I’ll go outside the city for a day or two.” He paused, drumming his fingers against the table. “Would that be a bad time for you? I don’t want to waste my days off if you won’t be around.”

You pictured your crowded calendar, envisioning the blocks of color in your mind. It started to look a little less like a rainbow when summer came around. “No, it’ll probably be alright. All of my projects are due at the end of this month, so it shouldn’t be an issue.” You set down your utensils. “I think I can manage things around here by myself.”

Kento nodded, his smile innocent, and satisfied. “Alright, then. I’ll finalize it on Monday…” He seemed contemplative, studying you with a sort of intensity that you didn’t think too hard about. He always seemed like he was observing things much too deeply. “Think you’d be able to take off too? You’re working so hard. I hate seeing you not get a break.”

You sighed, knowing that he was right, but as hard as you tried, you couldn’t seem to get the workload decreased. Too many people had been quitting recently, and you’d grown to bear the weight of their responsibilities. “I probably can. Why, have you been missing me?”

Kento laughed, taking the dirty dishes from your place once you finished off the last bite. “Yeah, something like that.” He washed them off, and you watched him lazily from the table, too relaxed to bring yourself to your feet.

When he was finished, he held out a hand, dragging you up to him, before letting you rest most of your weight onto his side. “Come on.” He draped an arm around your shoulders and held you close, hugging you warmly. “I’m tired.”

“Me too,” you said through a yawn, as if it wasn’t obvious, your eyes falling shut. You thought you heard him laugh, though it was stifled, like he was trying hard not to shake you.

Three days later, Nanami pulled out two airplane tickets and a reservation to a beach resort, showing them to you casually like he’d bought nothing more interesting than groceries.

The dates on the tickets were for the same dates that he’d suggested before.

You stared at him, then back at the tickets, knowing he’d probably spent way too much on something that seemed too frivolous for the frugal lifestyle he tended to lean towards. “Kento…”

He stopped you, rolling his eyes before snatching the tickets away, like he thought you might toss them into the fire. “That better be followed by a thank you,” he said, and while he sounded serious, you knew he was only teasing you.

You grinned, and drew yourself closer to him, peppering kisses all over his face as a senseless flash of emotion took over you.

For the weeks leading up to your vacation, you’d worked yourself to near collapse, making sure no loose ends were left, and no one could possibly need to contact you while you were away. Your boss seemed less than happy to grant you time off in the midst of the chaos, but you’d been a dutiful employee, and there was nothing he could do to prevent your leave.

The resort was a few hours train ride away, far enough to feel that you were in a different place entirely, but not too far that you needed to worry about passports. It was nice, to get away, and you felt free and unstifled from the bustling chaos of the city.

The train announced your stop, and you made to gather your things, tucking your phone in your brand-new beach bag, before reaching down for the backpack that you’d both shoved things into.

“Kento,” you said through a groan, as you picked up his bag from the floor, so much heavier than you’d anticipated. “What did you pack in here?” It felt loaded with bricks, nearly bringing you back down in your attempt to get off the train quickly.

“A few books,” he said, pulling his sunglasses from his pocket as you shuffled into the aisle with both of the bags. “I thought I’d have a lot of time to read.” You looked over your shoulder at him, and he made a face, defensive. “Why? Do you think we’ll be too busy?”

You weren’t sure why he was asking you—he’d done all the planning, barely letting you take a look at any of the information in order to surprise you. “Well, did you really need this many?” You struggled to swing it over your back as you balanced the other bag on your shoulder.

He sighed, holding out his hand. “I’ll carry it for you, honey.”

“No, I can get it.” You swatted his hand away stubbornly when he tried to take it from you. “My things are in here too.” Although, the more you thought about it, the more you wondered if maybe it was your toiletries weighing down the backpack, and not the paperbacks that Kento had shoved into the front pocket.

Your back grew sore. Eventually, you let him carry it.

The resort was about as crowded as you’d expected for an early summer vacation, and you struggled to stake your claim on a nice part of the beach, where there weren’t too many wandering eyes. The two of you laid your chairs down near the ocean, the sun beating down on you, hot, and warming your skin.

It was nice to be away from the clouds and the rain that had plagued your home for the past week, and you were grateful that the bad weather hadn’t followed you to your destination.

You closed your eyes, shuffling through your music as you propped your sunglasses on your nose. The music played at a softer volume, just quiet enough to hear the waves of the ocean, creating a peaceful ambience that lulled you into tranquility.

“Did you put on sunscreen?”

You popped open one eye, shifting your neck to face Kento, who wasn’t even looking at you, legs stretched out with one of his books in his hands.

“Yes, of course,” you said in an obvious tone, even though you appreciated him checking.

He nodded as he flipped the page, his attention more on the inked words than his surroundings. It made you smile. “Just wanted to make sure, in case you fell asleep.”

“I might,” a yawn left you, as if on cue as you settled onto your back, and Kento’s lips quirked up in a subtle grin. Though your face was shaded by the umbrella, the rest of your body laid out in the sun, heating you quickly as the bright rays sent healing vibrations through the fluffy clouds.

You’d spent so much of your time cooped up inside that you’d forgotten how calming it was to escape from the world for a moment, to pretend that that part of your life didn’t exist. It would be so nice to live like this forever, to bask in the sun without any responsibilities.

You felt warm from the thought of it and shifted onto your back, head resting on your arms as you stared at the man sunbathing beside you. His sunglasses had fallen down on the bridge of his nose as he bent down over the book. A thin sheen of sweat had started on his chest, making the skin glossy, like the picturesque muse of a magazine cover. His shorts had slipped down on his hips, revealing the beginnings of tan lines that you hadn’t noticed before.

Cheeks burning, you gazed helplessly, like you’d forgotten how beautiful he was, even though that was the only thought on your mind half of the time. For a moment, you were glad that you were secluded, away from the crowd, on a quiet part of the beach. You weren’t sure if you would be able to handle anyone else gawking at him the way you were.  

You looked away before he could tease you about your staring. If you got too caught up in him, you would have no choice but to march over and plant yourself on the chair alongside him.

It didn’t take long before a sweat had also broken out on your forehead, and you took out your earbuds, throwing them back down on the chair. The waves had finally settled, and a few of the younger children had cleared out of the water with their parents, leaving the ocean much more peaceful than it had been before. “I’m going for a swim. Want to come?”

Kento looked up over his glasses, marking his place in the book carefully. His eyes roamed over you like he hadn’t already noticed you were in nothing but a swimsuit, leaving little to the imagination as every angle and curve of your body was on display. “Well, I certainly can’t say no to you.”

You smiled, pleased that his irises had blown a little wider, that he’d swallowed once before making his way to his feet.

Taking his hand, you dragged him towards the ocean, his larger palm hot in your own, the veins visible with each movement. The sand formed to the outline of your heel, sticking to your sweaty skin before saltwater swirled around your ankles.  

The water was cooler than you expected, and you suppressed a shiver, smiling over your shoulder at Nanami, tugging him farther into the expansion of blue. When you were deep enough in the water that your body had cooled, you sunk your hips into the ocean, letting the waves drag around you.

With your head tilted back towards the sky, you closed your eyes, basking in the freeing energy that the ocean provided. Kento sifted through the water, already right beside you when you opened your eyes once more, staring at you with so much adoration that it was impossible to resist him.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him deeply, uncaring about anyone that happened to look your way. Saltiness lingered on both of your lips, and Kento tasted of coconuts and the sea. He grinned against your mouth, resting his hand on the small of your back as he balanced you in the turbulent waves.

Before you could lose yourself in his indulgent touches, you pulled away, teasingly, and dipped yourself back into the ocean. Nearby, there was a collection of seashells, reminding you of how you’d loved mermaids as a child. You picked them up, studied them, and wondered where they came from.

Kento rested lazily in the ocean, watching as you pulled yourself onto a large rock, your skin sticky and water dripping down to your shoulders. While you dried off, he swam over to you, before bringing his head above the sea, brushing darkened blonde hair off his forehead messily.

There was a renewed life to him; he was so much more at ease than he’d been in weeks, and that fact alone filled you with more joy than you thought could be contained in your soul. His cheeks had a sun-kissed glow, his skin marked with tan lines. He was a statue carved perfectly from bronze, and you smiled widely to yourself, engulfed in an overwhelming sense of happiness at the palpable art before you.

Kento pushed his way through the water to stand between your knees, looking up at you with so much love that your heart constricted painfully in your chest. His forearms rested on your thighs, and he dropped his chin on top of them, squeezing your knee.

“I’m glad you came with me,” he said, like it had even been a choice, like you’d ever say no to spending time with him. “It’s nice seeing you relax.”

You could say the same about him, but it wouldn’t have had the same effect now that he’d stolen the words already. “It was such a hard decision to make,” you teased, running a finger through his wet hair, the blond strands twisting and bending into a mess on top of his head. “I sure do miss being at work.”

Kento laughed, and you felt a jolt of pleasure rush through you at the action, knowing that he’d never button himself up around you, and no one else would see him as carefree as you did.   

“We should move here,” you said afterwards on a whim, full of excitement and fanciful images of the beautiful nature. “Don’t you think?”

Nanami kissed the inside of your thigh softly, knowing, just as you did, that that was the kind of dream you saved for the nights that you found living the hardest. “Maybe,” he smiled, amused, even though it’d be too hard to leave the city where your friends were, where your home was, and neither of you were fond of making thoughtless decisions. “Maybe when we’re both too old to do anything but sit with each other’s company.”

“That’d be nice,” you said, picturing it with ease, and while getting older had always scared you to some degree, it didn’t seem so frightening when you were doing it with him.

“Really. You want to be with me that long?” he teased, though there was a hint of seriousness in his eyes, wide and warm, and it was such a ridiculous question, because you’d told him over and over how much he meant to you, and for such a smart man, he’d never seemed to grasp it.

You leaned over, kissing both his cheeks, feeling very much like a teenager in love. “I’m yours forever, Kento Nanami. You already know that.”

His smile spread whiter, forming into a toothy grin that he rarely revealed to anyone else. Kento grazed your knee softly with his lips, a touch barely there, and you were certain he was trying to get a rise out of you, only to leave you cruelly alone on the edge of the rock. He looked up at you from under his soft lashes. “I’m a lucky man, then.”

You thought you were the lucky one, but you rolled your eyes playfully, climbing down from the rock into his waiting embrace. His arms were strong around your back, and you tried not to get too distracted by his hot breath on your cheeks.

The rest of the week passed in a blur of fond memories and blissful relaxation, and time went by much faster than you would’ve liked.

On your last night at the resort, you stood in front of the mirror, wiping any remaining sea salt from your legs as you dried off from your shower. Already, you missed the beautiful blue water, the spacious bed that had overlooked the sandy shores.

The bathroom door opened as you were ruminating, changing into a fresh pair of pajamas. It was late, and you’d grown tired from being in the sun all day, even though you remained relaxed and refreshed from the vacation.

Kento stared at you from the doorway, his brown eyes sparkling as he watched you moisturize your face evenly.

“Why are you staring?” You held his gaze in the mirror, amused, as you set the tube down and switched it for one of toothpaste.

“No reason.” He came up behind you slowly, extending his arms to wrap around your waist. You looked a mess with your hair undone and your eyes were tired without any makeup. Still, he kissed along your shoulders before burying his face in the crook of your neck, holding you tight.

You melted, squeezing his hand tightly back as you leaned into him. Kento didn’t release you as you brushed your teeth and finished up your routine, and occasionally bit the sensitive skin on your neck.

When you spit the toothpaste out, he held your hair up, then gently massaged the back of your neck to release all the aches and pains that slowly dissipated each day you stayed well-rested.

“I had fun this week,” you said, leaning up to kiss him, the glasses he wore only at night slipping down the bridge of his nose. You held his cheek in your hand, brushing your thumb against the sharp angles of his face. His cheeks were dusted pink, sun-kissed, and his hair was even blonder than usual. “We should go on vacation more often.” The lines from stress had smoothed on his skin and the dark shadows under his eyes had disappeared completely.

Kento snorted, kissing the top of your head before throwing an arm around you, dragging you back to the bed. “We’ll find a way to talk ourselves out of it. We usually do.”

“I’m serious, Kento.” You rested against him for just a moment, before shuffling with a yawn to the other side of the bed. With the sun-down, the room had grown cooler, even though the humidity was still stagnant in the air. You toppled on the mattress, twisting around to make sure that he was still meeting your eyes. “Neither of us should be working as much as we are. It’s exhausting.”

Kento’s expression darkened, his features dimming before his eyes crinkled again and he rested a heavy hand on your hip. “You’re right.” He squeezed you affectionately. “Maybe we’ll take a trip this winter. You can pick where we go next time.”

You grinned, closing your eyes to imagine the possibilities. It could’ve been the bliss of the vacation talking. The future might become full of empty promises like it always had. Though, something about this felt different. It felt like maybe you’d both decided that you needed to change something about your lives.

“I’ll hold you to it,” you said, and hoped, fleetingly, that you’d die by the beach with Nanami Kento at your side.

[krewekreep]

JJK Headcanons: Suit & Tie Edition

Word count: A lot I wrote this on Mobile. (Would love if somebody comments the word count for me lol)

Summary: JJK as Professionals/Corporate Boys + as BFs ((randomly began to rate them on a scale of 10, this post is really for my amusement—I hope you enjoy!!)) (I’ll update this over time to include all male JJK characters and more details, just really a random thought post), #activepost. (Will also likely end up lengthy so)

Hiromi: Lawyer

Of Course Hiromi would continue his work as a public defense attorney. He’s considerate but neurotic. Fair but cautious. And has a strong sense of principles that make his job perfect for him but also perfect for his various neurosis to fester and continue depressing this overwhelmed man.

As a Partner: At the point Hiromi (probably a mid life crisis) really realizes he’d like a relationship he’d be the guy that has everything planned out in his head but fails miserably somehow. He’s so analytical and emotional (his consideration of others not really the expression of emotion) and would end up a worry wart of sorts about being up to par with whatever imaginary standards he’s projected onto you. Less so than reassurance, you’d just be incline to remind him he doesn’t need to go above and beyond or have super grand gestures to be impressive. Likewise he’d want to communicate (maybe too much) once a conflict or issue occurred and I can see him likely being a bit overbearing with “You okay? Are you realllyyy okay??? You sureeee???” Along with literal hour long sit downs after arguments or disagreements. You end up feeling he can get parental but find him a good balance or synergy to your possibly avoidant or passive (I just end up shutting up completely lmao) conflict style. He’d work way too much in the beginning and maybe even have a moment of conflict with you about it but will level out with time as you will be his literal priority and focus. Diligent and upstanding he’s (in my taste) a 7-8/10. (I’d get immediately tired of his work schedule cause I’m “clingy”)

Nanami: Doctor

While Nanami is canonically coded as an overworked salary man I think in another universe he’s the perfect doctor. Similar to Hiromi but a bit more stoic and willing to work pass his limits. He’s the type to really be working triple, quadruple shifts off nothing but caffeine and the smiles of his patients. I think he’d be a pediatrician, dentist, or the perfect primary care physician. I see him being a talented medical student that actually does it for the love of the work. He’s the doctor everyone has the hugest crush on but are too intimidated to speak to—and who is also assumed to obviously be claimed cause who wouldn’t.

As a Partner: Kento would absolutely have the worst schedule. He’s genuinely, (probably neurotically), earnest and diligent. His patients’ care is his only concern and you would end up finding his work reputation as an anti social coworker pretty incongruent to the yeah quiet, sometimes intimidating but overwhelmingly kind and considerate man. Of course you become his “special” patient (whether you meet him as his patient or outside of work) and you begin to cutely annoy him by always being sick and needing to be seen only by him. He’ll honestly at first find it lightly irritating as a distraction but will realize how his shoulders ease and his breath steadies when he calms at your presence. As a man of a few words, and literally hands on as a health practitioner, he will communicate his love with actions and gifts. You’re surprised at work or date out with your friends with flowers and a note. Or he tells you he doesn’t want you inside all day and left his card on the nightstand. “Buy something for me ;).” How he only is ever cute or flirty in texts, and a shy even bubbling big guy who flushes red when you kiss him on the cheek. He’s the guy the upper admin want to promote but then will be even more unavailable so he doesn’t tell you about it. And at a work dinner when his coworker comments on it, lowers his head in shame for keeping it from you. In an argument, whether he feels right or wrong, he just wants you to calm down. Hate to psychoanalyze but Nanami gives the vibe he overprotects because he wasn’t protected and/or saw those he cared about hurt terribly and that those he treasures he’s pained to see disturbed in any way. So no he doesn’t want to see you mad and rightfully so he doesn’t know how to communicate he wants MORE time with you not less…and how he actually found a better job with better pay in another state so… “Y/N? Absolutely I was wrong to hold it from you…but now that I told you my other plans…would you…” (lmao I’m trolling I’m so sorry). Overall if he drops everything for me he’s a 10/10 cause he’s also my first JJK Husbando anyway blep) Strong, big, and SILENT!

Suguru: Political Consultant

Pre & Post Kenjaku Geto would be someone ending up in politics. Everyone wants to save him and give him his little tattoo shop but this man (of course once any incredibly negative event would happen cause he’s very emo coded) would be at think tanks and conferences and Capital Hill. While not sinister he’s a good bit mischievous (and messy). He’d love it for the sheer drama and mess and blackmail. He’d love how easy it would be to orchestrate against his enemies for whatever his “grand ideas” are…in reality he’s the worst (best) type of personality because he would never be “neutral,” he’d simply let it be known his “side” is whichever and whoever advances his desires. And his allegiances WILL change. He’d be the political actor in all those official photos no one really knows and that’s the point. (damn he’s just inspired a Scandal TV Show AU)

As a Partner: Boy…you better be the most apolitical person ever, devious as all hell, or truly ready to be his simp in all regards. This man will be everywhere but home. He WILL miss dates, I’m so sorry! (Even if he was jobless he’d somehow be late or miss a date and nobody can convince me otherwise.) You’d go to truly bewildering events in terms of scope and breadth of wealth, access, and political influence. As an Aquarius (real life shade too I’m sorry again) he’d be so two faced! You’d hear him drag for someone BAD and then upon meeting them realize THEY think he’s their BEST FRIEND. I’m sorry Geto is messy coded to me and you’d have to be down for being a hater at Dawn. (We’d work as friends not lovers cause I wake up and hate.) He’d spoil you monetarily from the beginning so it’s up to you if you accept them even if their very obligatory feeling. Otherwise, I see him being impressed by your ability to challenge him, call him out, or deny him. He TELLS you you’re going to be his date to an event but maybe he was way too flirty with one of his peers and thought you didn’t notice? He’s left outside in his bespoke suit with happy flowers and a sour face. 😂 BUT, he’ll weirdly respect (even possibly turned on.) Depending on how you play it he’ll be the guy who just won’t leave you alone and loves to bother you into a reaction for his amusement—or (if you decide to simp) a guy who’ll definitely see how far you’ll let him go. He’ll flirt with everyone and openly lightly disrespect you cause honestly he’s likely encountered enough simps before. Yet, the fact it’s out of pure emotion and want for him rather than money or prestige will make him feel guilty and he’ll SLOWLY but EVENTUALLY be a good partner holistically. Even to the degree he’ll break “character” upon any disrespect or unsavory comment made towards you. Politically—(I know for me I’d kill him probably) since he’d be a “only here for my own best and vested interests,” maybe you’d think hard on his principles. Maybe you’d confront him about how his “neutrality” is selfish and he should be able to stand on something and stick to it! Then maybe he’ll just simply bring out a laptop you’ve never seen before, type in a few things facing away from you, and show you terrabytes of collected info on everyone across the spectrum…maybe he’d then sit there bored as you scream “REALLY? NO WAY?? NOT HER??? Okay well I felt like he’d do something like tha….OH EWWWWW.” And scoffs to himself thinking “and that’s only what I know won’t make you throw up…” All in all I see TRUST and sincerity being the biggest dealbreaker given (and it’s fair) to feel like he’s fake with you or unsure of his feelings. But…the way he gets in bed and private lets you accept his real feelings for you. He’s a 6/10 because the flirting would KILL ME. And he’s technically my second and half JJK Husbando. Grown him would still be menace regardless of Kenjaku.

Satoru: Sports Manager/Finance

Now Satoru would either be the nepo baby that abandons it all or the nepo baby that reluctantly accepts his role at his family conglomerate. If he gets his way: I see Satoru as a sports manager. He’s a people person, athletic, and would care about the young athletes in the industry. If we convert the students of Jujutsu to athletes I definitely see him being one of the managers representing the most Olympians and medaled performers. He’s hot in his shades and open shirt suits with his iPhone against his ear and his blackberry in his hand texting off a contract or something…(Sports Manager AU coming up :/)

Now if he accepts his role at his family conglomerate he’s the CEO of an old money finance firm. He hates his life and his job and hates his responsibilities. It would be closer to his feelings of burden in the story cause he’s well off and well respected but it’s because he was born to be, so it’ll be a job of obligation. Yet, he’d definitely be a philanthropist and own a charity. He’d hate (but understand) the criticism so he’d just shrug and do the most he can. He’s the type to stay single (or marry a few times) but adopt and of course Megumi, Yuuji, and Nobara are his kids. He does conferences and speaks at events and otherwise is one of those “good” billionaires. (I’d give him a hard time about where his money comes from while telling him what color Birkin I want…cause duality…)

As a Partner: Sports Manager Satoru will not be as free and it’s likely upon cementing a committed relationship you’ll travel with him across the world. I don’t see Satoru being the kind of guy who can do LONG distance or long period of time without physically being near his partner. You’d be the wife without a ring (only for a short time, he’s definitely a “if you’re down I’m down and I love you so let’s get this show on the road” type man. He’s the kind to wait to find the right one but you’ll be a bit annoyed at how many possible “right ones” are floating around in the world. He’ll chuckle sheepishly cause every event lurks an ex somewhere. Whether for a week or a couple years—and you fight seething next to him as you take a long gulp of the alcohol in your glass. How it gets to you beyond jealousy that maybe he’s a lover boy and not retired yet? How you want to never be a numbered ex in an irritatingly lengthy list… “Did you really have to give ALL of them the partner title?” You say as you cross your arms and huff in a pout. Satoru’s the kind to always wanna laugh or kiss conflict away, usually it worked but not now. “Babe…,” he moves closer to you to which you move farther from him. “Babe…? Please?” When he has to get serious and you’re being avoidant or passive then he’s the manager everyone fears for his easy ferocity. Now your held down with no choice but to face his peering blue eyes. “Hey…I know my…past upsets you. I mean…shit it kinda upsets me too.” The scowl on your face makes him shake out of his intensity to clean up the sentence: “No I mean, I wish I knew how to love better…I wasted a lot of time and energy…and other people’s time and energy…so for what’s it worth I’m trying and we are in it for the long haul, kid.” No matter your age, he’ll clock your immaturity cutely. Big spender, pretty obvious. Lover boy, who you’ll have to keep an eye on solely for the women who will try you. You end up being at every game and rumored an athletes partner until Toru gets proper mad (extremely jealous he’s not getting the shipping attention and it’s his partner!) and will pop the question at a championship game or whatever. I see a regular fun but albeit stressful travel induced relationship. But one with a thousand memories and fun. Although (please don’t cut me) Gojo isn’t my type at all I don’t know why—he’s def still a 9/10. I can accept dealing with exes and others if you’re ACTUALLY devoted to ME.

Finance Bro Toru: This will not be an openly happy and likely extravagant or extraverted Satoru. This one would be cold and reclusive. It’s likely you only end up on a date with him because he weirdly keeps seeing you on the metro or at his coffee shop or at his favorite lounge. It’ll be nothing to him but he’ll slowly (likely having nothing better to do and being distant from others) people watch doing his best to not accept he only ever watches you. It becomes his break from pressing matters that don’t matter at all to him. How simple but frenzied you are and how you overapologize for knocking over something. How you debated out loud if it was worth asking the Barista to correct your order, then giving up upon mumbling “Oh everyone is so stressed nowadays it’s fine. I’ll just drink it.” How you bristle thinking the man behind you just laughed at you…but how silly that must be to assume on a random man. How he’ll play with his watch and phone outside the shop waiting on you. How he grows impatient and stomps his foot too used to ordering people around and having folks at his beck and call. He’ll cough loudly as you pass by and since you pay him no mind weirdly jogs to catch up to you. “Uh, hey! Hi…Hello,” this dude is weird what does he want. “I—I,” eh he’s cute but…has a stuttering problem? “Yeah guy? What’s up? My train leaves in ten minutes and I got a thirty minute walk before I even get there.” How he doesn’t know how to keep up and finds you abrasive. “I just wanted to ask if you’d like to eat somewhere with me? NOT right now…of course…aha.” You look over the admittedly stunning obvious investor type with consideration. “I thought you had somewhere to be?” He teases. “Oh I do! But…the event I had to get to in ten minutes started an hour ago…lol. I think they’ve accepted my absence by now.” And the both of you would stand awkwardly for like 3-5 good minutes. “So,” you both speak. “Ah you can go sorry about that,” Toru throws. “Well…where you wanna go eat?” And Boom Satoru’s forgotten the seven meetings for today. At first thinking if anything this beautiful stranger can give me a good day. Then when he realizes he’s a late 20 something with no real social life or sense of fun so now you’re damn near seeing him whenever he can. And he’ll love to sneak off to your shabby apartment where his people won’t think to look. “Toru don’t you have a literal meeting with Wells Fargo?” He’ll sour any time you mention work. “Do I have to go to serve a real purpose or just fill in a seat and say yes to whatever they propose?” Well he ate that tbh. So you let him continue eating his Deli sandwich and watching the Bear. Once he loves you he will not even entertain the debate of leaving you because of his role. If anything he’ll propose (albeit inappropriately) at an elite event for the sole sake of making everyone mad. You want to be sure he’s with you for you and not to prove a point or be a “bad boy” and all he does is call up his best friend Suguru in DC and Shoko in Seattle to tell you about how truly terrible your man was as a youth. If anything you bring him back to the source of his actual personality. So you realize this old geezer is actually a retired trouble maker and is absolutely in love with you and getting you both in “trouble.” Easily one of the biggest spenders but deeply intimate so it’ll go either way. He could just be the guy that buys you exactly what you want when you want or the guy that yeah buys you a Rolex without blinking but makes you open ten boxes from huge to miniature all as a gag as he can’t stop laughing at your disappointment. Upon getting to the Rolex he waits for the scream and jumping into his arms. He’ll be a little shitty pervert once you’re in his arms though. 7/10 only cause I romanticized it ALOT but I hate the Uber wealthy and that lifestyle. Plus he’d be much harder to warm up and likely be someone YOU really want to be with tbh😭 AND he’d likely be a victim of a VERY small worldview so unless you code it like dumb rich man meets the real world he’d be insufferable.

Yuuji: Construction Firm CEO/Estate Broker

Yuuji would do construction. Don’t know why he just seems the type…(actually I watch Selling Sunset). He’s less a real estate agent and more an owner of a large estate development firm. If Yuuji ever would decide a life where every day is suits and ties…he’s gonna forgo the tie and remain open shirt to almost an inappropriate degree…he’ll always get requests for “personal” tours but ruins it getting lost in over explaining permitting and how difficult it was to get city approval for zoning. He has the perfect personality for it as it’s an active, hands-on job that’s still people based but also creative. Yuuji is someone who would need a holistically fulfilling job and I think the energy of real estate development is very him.

As a Partner: Full Blown Unintentional Love Bomber. I hate to say it but Yuuji is absolutely someone to fall and fall WAY too hard. I don’t see him being aggressive or forceful but he will appear wherever you are. He’s a well connected, well respected, wealthy man it’s not weird for him to end up at the parties you end at up either. It’s stranger for you to be there but whether you are in his field or of a professional career, a client or someone who just meets him, Yuuji will be the kind to sweep you off your feet. While it’s likely you won’t always physically be around him or able to—he’s the kind to have you on the phone throughout his work day, all day. “Yeah I mean again it was right for you to tell your boss you can’t do someone elses—DIDNT I SAY A DIFFERENT STYLE OF BACKWASH! Portion of the work? If they know there’s gonna be a big client coming then they should’ve—TODO CALL ABOUT THE PERMITS BEFORE I LOSE MY FUCKING MIND!!! Made sure everyone did their portfolio and presentations…do you need me to call up there? You know I know…”(insert CEO you don’t even know of your company’s Name Here lmao). It would all depend on you if how hard he loves is perfect or off putting. He’d love very publicly but would respect your request for reduced or no PDA. He’d just be so happy he has someone tbh. And someone who wants what he wants in a long term, committed way. He’s a lover boy but only in the sense he wants to truly give his heart to someone and take care of someone else’s. Big spender, big protector, big my girl said I can’t come so *shrugs*, very much a “stop telling me how much something is…numbers annoy me, here” and now you got his black card realness. In conflict he will force you into his arms and make sure you scream, cry, and whatever else ;) it all out. You get annoyed he refuses to argue with you and will literally fall silent. How he tells you everyone gets frustrated but he just can’t get frustrated with you as he leaves you for work with a kiss on the forehead. How you get a heat building in your stomach and suddenly want to shop for kid’s clothes. Upon marriage and/or creating a family Yuuji calls Megumi up to design a couple houses. “A couple houses??? We only need one Yu…” You can’t contain your laughter. “One? That is absolutely not enough. We are going to have two family homes—you decide where. You’re gonna have your own condo when you want time to yourself and—babe you know me…thinking of houses for the babies…” meanwhile nobody is pregnant. But you hold your stomach instinctively for some reason. How fatherly and intense made your initial reaction become: “Sure! I mean…how many houses we thinking…?” You chuckle nervously, to which Yuuji just tells Megumi they’ll speak later and rises from his seat towards you. “I don’t know, but for sure one has to look like me and one has to look like you…so what we gonna do about that? Guess we’ll have to keep em coming till that happens, no?” 10/10 I’m so “one and done” like? I do NOT feel like dating 😂

Megumi: Architect/Engineer

I debated whether he would be an Architect or Engineer but if we ever learn their favorite subjects we’ll know if he’s STEM-brained or more humanities based. Either way he’ll do something that’s still creative but methodical. Like Yuuji he’d need full stimulation from his job and I think of course he’d be Yuuji’s business partner who designs the buildings. Likewise a job with purpose and long lasting impact. He’s definitely about sustainability and would incorporate nature similar to Japanese architects like Sou Fujimoto (utilizes unconventional shapes and literal nature) and Kengo Kuma (utilizes shape and literal environment by means of aesthetic cohesion to the surroundings xyz I had to look it up and simplify it 😭💕).

Otherwise he’s some kind of engineer (I’m more humanities so forgive how bad I summarize). Rather than unfamiliar, I’m moreso unsure of which kind of engineering would suit him “the most” but I find of course he’d likely be an industrial, civil, or architectural engineer. He’d want to be useful and in every sense not waste his time or his energy. Maybe a concentration in environmental engineering specifically just cause I see him having a mindset of sustainability and community.

As a Partner: Openly neurotic and pathological about his work so be ready for that kind of man. Will absolutely get mad if you interrupt him working but knowing it’s a him thing will feel guilty about ghosting you for a week…so will continue to ghost you. You’ll have be angry, sad, or simping enough to endure Megumi. He’s definitely introverted and because of the insular nature of his work will be a human black cat. He’ll want his pets when he wants them, cuddles when he wants them, distance when he wants it, etc. You’ll have be used to or okay with someone who may not talk the entire day. Even if he’s not working, I see Megumi just being someone who can and will revel in peace and silence. If you relate that’s perfect and you’ll be two cats in a burrito blanket. If not, he’ll REALLY have to like you to like your possibly disruptive or hyper active nature. And may not be able to appreciate you until you meet Yuuji and Nobara and others. He’ll realize “Yeah, it’s me” realizing just like with everyone else he grew to care about he has to be open and fair and patient. All of a sudden he chuckles more at your dumb jokes or clumsy nature. As a professional, whether it be conferences or grants or fellowships Megumi will end up sought after and very busy. Likely the weight of academics and infrastructure will be visible in his pronounced dark eyes so it’ll take time for him to break out of accepting being overburdened and overworked but your trips to the beach, your propensity to miss deadlines and laugh it off, the way you went to class or work hung over and had an amazing day…he takes it all in and so maybe he won’t accept or feel pressured to do this or that or work overtime on this or help someone with that…he’ll learn how to “overwork” his own way and once he’s consulting with cities on infrastructural improvements and visiting more schools seeing little kids projects on space and noodle bridges he’ll remember how fun what he does is and will kiss you the most passionate he ever has when he gets home. How his hand rests on your stomach and rubs it lightly. “Meg (his albeit reluctantly accepted nickname) your so flirty tonight?! What’s up with you?” He’ll say nothing as he leans into the crook of your neck and breaths. He doesn’t think he’s a charmer but that’s what makes him all the more dreamy to you. How you never could question his sincerity since he’s the living embodiment of it, so how when he wants you—really wants you…it’s easy to lean into him and let him drift your bodies to your bedroom. Empty introverted all up on you cat boy Megumi: 10/10. The functionality of the relationship is a strong 3/10 because he will not prioritize the relationship for a number of MONTHS. He’s a workaholic introvert who is an engineer…whether graduate student, Ph.D, Instructor, or seasoned professional he’s def gonna be hard to deal with. Likewise you’ll have to be really strict with him about replying to you cause he’ll just…not do it. He’ll answer in his head and hope it gets to you…so once you threaten a breakup if he goes a day ever again without replying to you…he’s incredibly responsive and kicks himself at all the day to day conversation he missed out on…so he’ll make up for it.

Upcoming

Yuuta

Sukuna

Toji

Choso

Haibara

Inumaki

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not helping with household jobs?

I don’t help with various household jobs in the evenings. I’m tired, I’m sore, and I don’t like pushing through all of that to help out.

I have various disabilities which cause joint pain and fatigue, which is why I don’t like helping. At 7pm, I crash and my pain and fatigue gets worse. Don’t know why it’s 7pm, but as soon as that hour hits then it’s off to pain town in my body. Anything that is important I’ll do before 7pm. Anything after 7pm is rather hard.

I’ve just moved out, and at my own place I will do all my jobs in the morning. This works best for me as this is when my pain is less for me. But, at the moment, I’m home for a bit.

Usually, I’d just power through. I don’t want to squabble with my brother. I rather like him and I don’t want to upset him.

But now I moved out and found out that doing my jobs in the morning is better for me, that’s what I prefer doing. I’ll do washing up in the morning, clean cat boxes, so the dish washer and whatever else needs doing before 11am which is when my first ‘wave’ of fatigue hits. It’s less painful for me to do it this way.

But today my brother got irritated at me. He said it’s ’a team effort’. He’ll often get somewhat annoyed at me, and ask me to help out, sometimes even beg me if he’s had a long day in the past. When I say no, I’m too sore or tired, he’ll roll his eyes and go ‘ok.’ He’s better at accepting this when he can see visually when I’m in pain - such as when I and a pain flare at the table recently and he offered to bring me pain killers.

This is a point of contention between us. But I don’t want to power through anymore with jobs I don’t have the spoons to do just because I also don’t have the spoons to discuss things with my brother. It hurts. I’m tired. I’ve tried to explain why and he says ‘I know that’ yet he will still get a little stroppy when I have to go lie down around 7.

So. AITA for not helping with household jobs?

What are these acronyms?

[bg-brainrot]

WHaBFHtLA - Astarion x GN!Reader - Chapter 19: The Wizard’s Tower

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader (Elf!Tav)

Genre: Reincarnation, Angst, Mystery, Slow burn

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Tags: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, POV Second Person, Canon-Typical Violence

WC: 9k words, 19/?? chapters

Summary: After traveling through Waterdeep, you and Astarion finally arrive at Gale's tower. Introductions are made, tours are had, and the relationship between yourself and Astarion continues to remain complicated.

A/N: People seem to disagree on whether or not familiars age, but I’m going to go with “no” because Tara is already older than a Tressym’s typical life span in BG3.

Ao3 | [Ch18][Ch20] | WHaBFHtLA Masterlist

Walking through the streets of Waterdeep ought to be faster than this. It should have only taken you an hour to get to Gale's tower, according to Astarion.

However, you're in a new city and every single wonder captures your attention, leading you to stray from your path.

"Astarion, what's that?"

"It's a shop, darling. We have those back in Baldur's Gate."

"I know it’s a shop– gods, you know what I mean!"

Despite his attempts to keep you on track, Astarion doesn’t resist your wanderlust. His hold on your hand remains strong and, with every twist you take, he's being pulled along right behind you. You stop for an odd street stall, finding all manner of knick-knacks. You marvel at a statue, standing grand in the center of a plaza. You pull to an abrupt halt, earning a disapproving grunt from Astarion, when you spot a street performer using magic.

After what must be the tenth detour, Astarion finally tugs back. “Darling, could we please focus? We’ll have time for outings while we’re here, I assure you.”

You look at him, finding his expression to be amused, even if slightly annoyed at you. “We’ll have time to explore the city?” you ask, tentatively. You don’t want to presume that he’ll join you for anything, but the fact that he said ‘we’ gives you hope.

“Yes,” he answers, tugging on your arm once more. “But only if we make it to Gale’s without missing his celebration. Otherwise, we will never hear the end of it.”

“Fine,” you say, allowing Astarion’s hand to pull you in the proper direction. “Though I’ll admit, I’m a bit nervous.”

Astarion raises an eyebrow at you, purses his lips some as he asks, “About meeting Gale? Whatever for?”

You avoid his gaze, focusing on the road ahead of you as you respond, “It’s odd meeting someone you’ve only ever dreamt about. I know so much about you all, but you don’t know me. He may not even recognize me. How do I approach that?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Astarion starts. You can sense an incoming joke at your expense, so you brace yourself for his next words. “Maybe something along the lines of ‘You’re the man of my dreams’, that worked wonders on me.”

You wince despite the preparation. “Excuse you, that is not what I said. Besides, I didn’t dream nearly as much about Gale. I don’t think you understand how nervous I was to meet you.”

Looking back up at Astarion, you note that he is focused, staring forward as he leads the way. Despite that, you also spot unabashed satisfaction on his face. His tone is just as self-satisfied as he replies, “I would expect no less.” Then a thought occurs to him and his tone shifts, thoughtful and a bit more reserved as he says, “Though that may have been lingering guilt, I suppose.”

Your reaction is immediate and a bit overdue. “Not at all,” you say, stopping Astarion in his tracks as you pull on his arm. "I didn't come find you out of any type of obligation or guilt. I came to find you for you. I set out before I knew anything other than… than love.”

The vampire is forced to stop, look at you and your serious poise with his full attention. He doesn’t seem to believe you, and it becomes more evident when he says, “I’m sure. Certainly explains why you and my siblings have been such fast friends.”

Astarion continues to walk, yanking you after him a bit more roughly this time. Your voice is a bit breathless as you follow in a rush, “Yes, I’ll admit that after I arrived I– I let myself get a bit carried away.” The man snorts from ahead of you. “But that was never my intention when I left Neverwinter. I just couldn’t get you out of my damned mind. You can ask my parents if you’d like.”

The line of his shoulders seems to relax a bit, but he remains focused on navigating the streets of Waterdeep, ignoring your burning gaze. After a few blocks of silence, he speaks, “What are they like?”

“Who?” Your mind has wandered by now, thinking of how, were it not for Astarion’s initial chilly reception, you may never have met with Dal in the first place. Then deciding that, no, ultimately you would always have found the spawn, one way or another.

“Your parents,” he mumbles, barely audible over the buzz of the city. “What are they like?”

Oh! He’d been so reluctant to learn about you as your own person that the question catches you by surprise. Once you collect yourself, you’re only too excited to answer. Your words come out fast, unfiltered, “Well, they’re both elves, of course. They came to live in Neverwinter after meeting through their trade. It’s how they were able to send me to the best college for the arcane arts in the city. My mother is fairly practical, logical. She didn’t want me to come all the way out here, but, erm, came around to it eventually. I suppose I get my curiosity from my father, but, even so, I think you would quite like him…”

As your words trail off, you realize that Astarion’s slowed down, listening to you. “It’s odd,” he says, turning his head back ever so slightly. A worried crease lines his brow. “I am rather more concerned with what they would think about me.”

The admission leaves you a touch speechless. At first because of the vulnerability in Astarion’s fleeting look– Then because you’re honestly not sure how to answer. It would likely be a lie to say that they would love him. Your mother especially would hold no mercy for a man as mercurial as he is. But you decide that your words need not be so severe, “I think they would grow to adore you.”

“I see,” he mutters, accepting your word choice with as much grace as you suppose he can muster.

How I wish he would meet them, you think. But that’s not something ‘friends’ do, is it? Perhaps he thinks Gale really has a chance to stop me. Given his experience, does he actually have a chance?

You don’t have much more time to consider that question because Astarion pulls to a stop before a grand set of doors. They’re made of wrought iron, engraved in runes and intricate patterns, lined with a shimmer of blue magic. You recognize the runes as teleportation runes, and given the outer facade of the building, easily surmise that this isn’t the exact location of a wizard’s tower, just an entrance.

“Is this…?” you ask.

“It is,” Astarion says, flashing you a smile. You’re not sure what the look on your face is, but he is drinking it in with glee.

It’s just past midday, and you’ve finally arrived at Gale’s doors.

Astarion releases your hand to reach the door. You’d gotten so used to moving as a singular unit, that his sudden absence leaves you a bit off-kilter, as if a part of you is missing. You can't help but flex your hand open and closed a few times to return to yourself, to return to the present.

Once he’s reached the doors, you spot a large iron knocker in the center of them: the head of a tressym in high relief, a ring set between its sharp teeth. Astarion grips the ring, knocks it against the door three times in rapid succession.

A voice comes through the tressym a moment later, and you recognize the Magic Mouth spell. Gale’s voice is cheery, exactly as you’d remembered it from your dreams, as he says, “Welcome to the tower of Archmage Dekarios. To enter, please supply the phrase that he undoubtedly provided you with. Knock thrice more for emergency assistance.”

Astarion shoots you a look, as if to say, ‘see what I must put up with?’ then clears his throat before uttering his phrase, “'For the jubilation of one magnanimous mage, I, Astarion Ancunín, am enchanted to be granted entrance.”

The iron on the doors immediately begins to shift, unlocking whatever mechanism lies behind them. Several loud clunks and thunks later, the massive doors open to a glowing blue portal.

“Does he make you say that every time you visit him?” you ask, barely holding back your laughter.

“Oh no,” Astarion replies, gesturing you forward. “It’s a different damned phrase every year. And it seems to be a torture uniquely reserved for me. Elminster simply gets different types of cheese for his phrases.”

You follow his guiding hands, stepping through the blue portal, feeling the world behind you vanish and shift in hues of blues, not unlike the teleportation circle you used to get here. As soon as your foot touches the ground before you, the inside of Gale’s tower comes into focus.

Immediately, you feel electricity in your veins– the weave is strong here. You could only dream of having your own wizard’s tower, but you know enough about them to know their basic principles. They’re often built on spots where the weave is most highly concentrated. It’s often why they’re crafted in such odd shapes, in such inconvenient locations, and built to such great heights. It’s all in an effort to amplify the magic they’re built upon. 

This tower is no different. You can’t quite tell the shape of the full tower, but the room you’re in is a semi-circle, lined with books and featuring several cozy looking couches. It’s quite possibly one of the loveliest waiting rooms you’ve ever had the chance to be welcomed in. You’re practically entranced and only vaguely register when Astarion asks from your side, “Have I lost you to the books already?”

He might have, if not for the rustling sound coming from behind you. You make an abrupt turn, only to come face to face with the man of the hour himself: Gale Dekarios steps through a set of blue, velvet curtains, wearing a set of purple robes and a gentle smile.

Unlike Halsin, who had hardly changed, only sporting a few new scars and wrinkles, or Astarion, who looks entirely unchanged, Gale looks like a new man. Or rather a very old man.

Where there was once a short, brown beard there is now a lush, wavy white beard in its place, neatly trimmed and manicured to perfection. His previously long, brown hair is white as well, carefully brushed back from his face, giving you a full view of his age-dappled features. Gale’s deep, brown eyes are as sharp as ever, surrounded by a webbing of wrinkles well-worn from a life full of joy. Your heart swells at the sight of him, looking every bit the witty sage from your memories, albeit greyer and a fair bit more lined.

You almost don’t recognize him, save that unmistakable glint in his eyes, the patient smile as he takes you and Astarion in.

Gale is the first to speak, his words aimed for Astarion, but his warm gaze falls entirely on you. “Oho, Astarion! Is this the guest you spoke of? I must admit, I was pleasantly surprised upon receiving your invitation confirmation. A guest, for the first time!”

What? you think in a sudden crack of panic. He didn’t tell him who I am?

You flash a distressed look at Astarion, who is only looking at Gale with annoyance. “Gods Gale, must you make a fuss out of everything?”

“It’s not every day that your oldest and dearest friend finds someone new worth cherishing. I was starting to grow rather fearful that you’d get old and wrinkled in your lonesome.” Gale’s smile is a bit mischievous as he turns away from you, to Astarion’s ire.

The words sound like playful jabs from Gale, but Astarion’s glower only seems to deepen. He looks just about ready to hiss like a cornered cat when you interject, “Not someone new per say. An old flame, actually.”

Astarion turns his glare to you, but it’s Gale who responds, “Phenomenal! Astarion, you sly dog, never giving even the slightest indication. When did you find each other, how long have you two been together? And how do you put up with him?”

You’ve only just entered the tower, and already the vampire looks at his wit’s end. Their friendship had always been entertaining to you when you had the chance to dream of it– they’re opposite in so many ways, alike in so many others. As such, Astarion’s flared nostrils and irritated stance come as no surprise. Neither do his clipped words as he struggles to respond to the wizard’s sudden enthusiasm, “What they meant to say is that they are– Well. They happen to be…”

His lips seem unable to say the words aloud, so you take it upon yourself to help. Stepping forward and standing tall, you look your friend and companion Gale Dekarios in the face and say, “It’s me, Gale.”

You’re not sure what you expect when you say the words. Perhaps a question, ‘who?’, or a confused, concerned look. Maybe even Astarion elbowing you in the side.

However, the wizard before you only takes a single beat. For that moment, he looks at you, with those same, familiar sharp eyes, before recognition settles in.

Then his arms are wrapping you in a warm embrace.

“My friend,” he murmurs into the hug, squeezing you tighter with a pair of ropy arms. “I can’t believe it.”

Your own arms respond in kind, crushing him back with your own youthful vigor. “I know, it’s a lot.” And it truly is– your own heart is pounding in your chest, your eyes are welling up with moisture. Astarion was your lover, but Gale? Gale has only ever been your friend. You’d saved the world together. You’d spent countless nights researching and planning together, spent even more simply enjoying each others’ company. And, unlike when you met with Halsin, you now feel so much more comfortable in your former identity. You feel comfortable claiming this hug for yourself.

Outside of your bubble of joy, you hear Astarion clear his throat pointedly. “While this is all incredibly touching, perhaps we can head into the tower before you both break each other in half?”

Gale releases you, as you do him, and you both turn to shoot daggers at Astarion. “Don’t mind him,” you say to the wizard. “He’s just jealous that it took him the longest to recognize me.”

“Of course,” Gale responds with a hearty chuckle. “Astarion has always been uniquely undiscerning when it comes to you.”

The man in question looks between you, face set in a grimace. “Gods below, I’m having the most unpleasant flashbacks.” You don’t need Detect Thoughts cast to see his thoughts written on his face. Something along the lines of, ‘This was a terrible idea.’

Gale ignores him, turning back to you in utter glee. “We have so much catching up to do!” he says, arms open wide. Then begins one of his customary rambles, “By Mystra’s grace, elves are fascinating. I knew you would reenter the Material Plane, but I had no idea it would happen so quickly. Not to mention, from my studies, elves typically don’t revisit past lives– part of ensuring that your kind continues to progress, I’ve been told. That being said, I am ecstatic that you’ve gone against the grain, my friend–”

You’re enjoying a long-lived human’s perspective on your reborn soul, but Astarion clearly doesn’t share your same sentiment. “Yes, yes,” he says, waving a hand. “Very interesting, I’m sure. However, it’s been a long couple of days, Gale. Could we please focus?” You’re reminded of when he asked you to focus on the way here and can’t help the snicker that leaves you. Astarion points an accusatory finger at you, “And you. Stop encouraging him.”

You hold up your own hands in innocence. “I’m only being a polite guest! Gale, thank you for having us.” Somewhere in the back of your mind, you’re reminded of your past-self saying the same phrase of thanks every time you and Astarion came to visit.

“It’s my pleasure,” Gale says, his smile widening at the familiar words. “Now, could I interest you both in a drink?”

“We should drop by our lodgings first,” Astarion responds, before you can agree to a drink. “Or do you not want to deposit that enormous pack of yours?”

You blink at the vampire. The pack was growing rather annoyingly heavy, but you, again, hadn’t given much thought to your lodgings. A slight dread begins to build. “Where will we be staying?”

Gale turns around, gesturing for you both to follow. “Why one of the guest rooms, of course!”

One. You try to catch Astarion’s eye as you begin to follow Gale, any amount of his attention, any indication that he’s panicking internally as much as you are. Is he going to be comfortable sharing a room? Will we be sharing a bed?

The man’s face doesn’t react to Gale’s words– in fact, it remains utterly impassive as he says to you, “Don’t worry, darling. Despite his being a senile old man, Tara makes sure the place stays well kept.”

Tara! Gale’s familiar hadn’t appeared in your reveries often, only arriving for a spot of tea or to join you in chiding Gale to settle down. But your memories of her are fond and your question comes with a natural excitement, “Is Tara here?”

Gale takes you up a set of stairs as he responds with a cheerful look back at you, “She is out currently– procuring several items we still need for the celebration. But she should be back in no time. She shall be delighted to see you.”

His words warm you, glad that he’s had someone all these years. Then, remembering your past-self’s insistence and considering no one else showed up to welcome you, you ask Gale, “Did you ever listen to us? Find yourself a partner?”

Based on the way his shoulders hunch a bit, he slows as he continues to climb the stairs, you’re afraid you’ve delved too deep too soon. “Oh yes. Shortly after losing you, I found someone. I’m sorry you never had the chance to meet them.”

Guilt eats at your chest, knowing that he means that ‘sorry’, and wishing that he wouldn’t have to feel any regret. “I’m sorry, Gale, I shouldn’t have pried.”

“No need to apologize,” he says, continuing on briskly once more. “It was a lovely experience. But life goes on.”

You can’t help but look at Astarion as Gale says those words, wondering what he made of Gale’s lost love. What he made of Gale’s continuation after the fact. Perhaps, as two beings with lives beyond measure, their friendship evolved beyond trading barbs in the years after your death. Perhaps they could be there for each other, when everyone else passed on.

Astarion’s face betrays nothing as his red eyes meet yours in the dimly lit stairwell. “Darling?” he asks.

“Nothing,” you respond, turning back to Gale to change the subject. “I’ve only dreamt of parts of your tower, Gale. Would you be willing to give me a tour?”

“I would be overjoyed,” he says, climbing over the last step of the stairs. “Once you’ve had a moment to rest, let me know and I shall be right over.”

Following him out of the stairwell, you’re left in the curve of a hallway, several doors lining the outer wall– likely Gale’s guest rooms. “Amazing,” you say, looking left, right, up. “This tower is built in such an intricate way. What type of material did you use to ensure that the weave stayed stable?”

The wizard stops short of the first door and looks back at you. You can feel his appraising gaze, as if just taking in your robes, the spellbook at your hip, the inquisitive gleam in your eyes. “By the outer planes, are you trained in the arcane arts?”

You nod eagerly, your enthusiasm getting the better of you. “I am. I’ll confess, I was looking forward to meeting you as a scholar as well.”

The energy exchanged between you is palpable, and you sense that Gale is about to start on another lengthy diatribe about his tower, when Astarion clicks his tongue. “For the love of all that is unholy, could you two not wait until the tour?”

“Right you are, Astarion,” Gale says, smiling at you all the while. “What a fortuitous calling you’ve found, my friend. I look forward to imparting as much as I can.”

“More like a divinely ironic calling,” Astarion murmurs under his breath, pushing past Gale. “Which room is ours?”

“The third door,” the wizard responds, otherwise ignoring the man as he continues to speak to you. “It’s been a while since he’s been this prickly. He must be glad to be visiting with you again.”

“I can still hear you,” Astarion calls, as he opens the door down the hall.

You ignore Astarion as well as you respond in a quieter voice, “He’s been like that since I arrived on his doorstep. If it weren’t for my dreams of him, I’d have thought he was a prickly pear, not a man.”

The two of you share a laugh together before Gale continues down the hallway. “I apologize for before,” he says. When you only offer him a confused look, he continues, “For when I thought you were a new love of his. I truly should have known better. Astarion would have needed another half dozen centuries to get over you.”

You don’t know what to say to that, but Astarion looks at you both from the doorway to your shared room. His eyes are dark, looking only at Gale, as he says, “That’s enough, Gale. Let us take a moment to unpack.”

Gale reads his friend’s expression with a patience you wish to possess someday. “I shall see you both later for a tour and some tea then?”

“Yes, please,” you reply, entering the room after Astarion. “And, thank you again, Gale.”

“Think nothing of it, my friend.” The wizard leaves you both with one last smile and a small wink, whisking off with the energy of a much younger man.

Now that you’re finally in the room, Astarion lights the lantern by the entrance and closes the door behind you. Looking into the space, you spot an armoire, a changing screen, a pair of armchairs, a couch, and then– just as you’d been afraid of, a single, large bed.

You focus your energy on keeping your voice calm, your breathing steady, even as your heart races. “So,” you start, dropping your pack on the ground and turning to face Astarion. “You didn’t tell him I was coming.”

“I told him I was bringing a guest,” is all that he says back.

“But not who I was?”

“I responded to his invitation weeks ago. It slipped my mind,” he says with a shrug.

The nonchalant look on his face is driving you mad. You’re not sure how this man can make you feel so many different emotions in one day, but by the gods does he manage it. “So you neglected to mention that we weren’t exactly lovers in your letter?” You gesture to the solitary, perfectly fluffed bed.

“Excuse me,” Astarion says, pacing to the armoire to begin unpacking his clothing. “I received enough helpful words from Dal, I didn’t want an entire speech from Gale before even arriving. Besides, it’s sharing a bed, darling. It’s not exactly the erotic act that you’re making it out to be.”

“I’ll sleep on the couch,” you say, disregarding his words.

“Nonsense, we’re grown elves. We can trance in the same bed without issue,” he says with an eye roll. “And if I’m such a temptation to you, why did you agree to be friends so easily?” he counters, raising an accusatory eyebrow at you. After the weeks you’ve had together, he knows full well that he’s a temptation to you. But if he thinks you’ll give him the satisfaction, then you suppose you know what you must do.

“Fine, the same bed it is. You’re the one who will suffer when I have a bad trance,” you grumble, beginning to take your items out of your pack as well.

Astarion crosses his arms, watching you as you lay out your robes. “I would hardly mind, darling. I tranced next to your past-self for years without issue.”

You suppose it’s true, though you can’t imagine what their trances were like. Your reveries of their life are the most visceral– it’s hard to imagine that they did anything but sleep peacefully. Instead, you ask another question that’s bothering you, aside from the bed, “So what are we supposed to tell Gale? That we’re… friends?”

“Naturally,” Astarion replies, sitting down in an armchair with a content sigh. “He’ll understand. It’s part of living a long life.”

You nod, continuing to unpack in silence, mind filled with thoughts of their long lives. After a few minutes, you ask Astarion another question, “Why didn’t you tell me about Gale’s former love? I might have avoided bringing it up.” Your tone isn’t accusatory, simply filled with a dejected sadness you aren’t able to stifle.

Astarion lifts his head, which had settled back in the armchair’s plush comfort. His words are solemn, honest. “Unlike the rest of our former companions, Gale is still alive. It is his story to tell, if he wishes.”

It makes sense, but you still feel the guilt of hurting him in the pit of your stomach. Not unlike the guilt you felt rehashing Astarion’s past memories. “Can you at least tell me this? How did they die?”

“Old age,” Astarion supplies. “And before you ask, no, they weren’t an elf. They won’t be popping up on his doorstep unannounced like some kind of bookish ghost.”

“He never considered extending their lifespan? There are plenty of–”

“No,” Astarion interrupts, looking at you with tired eyes. “They didn’t want that, and he respected their wishes. An extended life isn’t for the faint hearted.”

You gulp, feeling the guilt bubble up again at the question you inevitably want to ask, once more afraid of hurting Astarion. “And is that how you feel?”

“I don’t know anymore.” His words are quieter, barely loud enough for you to hear, and you can’t read his expression as his head ducks. His head is back up a moment later, a nervous little smile playing on his lips. “Well, if you have much more left to unpack, I actually meant to have a word with Gale. Shall we meet you downstairs?”

“Oh, sure,” you respond, pushing your guilt and curiosity back down. You suspect you already know what he wants to talk to Gale about. “I’ll be down shortly.”

When you do arrive downstairs shortly, neither man is present. I doubt they’ll be done any time soon, you think, beginning to poke around the room. I’ll find something to read while I wait.

That’s how you find yourself perusing through Gale’s carefully curated selection of waiting room books. And sweet hells is it curated well. It’s all you can do to keep from bouncing off the walls.

After picking up and dismissing several books, you settle on one that truly interests you. “Is this a first edition of Elameth's Compendium?” you ask no one in particular, flipping through the pages of a large, red tome. In it, the elven enchanter Elameth details a variety of magical artifacts, how to craft them, and how to dismantle them.

You’re surprised to receive a response as you flip the pages. “Oh my yes. Mr. Dekarios is quite fond of that particular compendium.”

Your head snaps up at a familiar voice, a feminine, unaffected voice, distinctly posh in its lilt. When you turn toward its source, you look down to see a small, cat-like creature peering up at you. “Tara?” you ask.

“I am she, yes,” the small, but proud creature says, tilting her head at you. “And who, may I ask, are you to be rifling through Mr. Dekarios’ books?”

She doesn’t seem mad at you, rather quite curious as her large green eyes inspect you. Will she believe you as easily as Gale did? Her eyes are staring at you so intently that your voice catches a bit as you begin to talk, “I– I am–”

“Ah, I see it now, my dear,” the tressym says, taking a few steps toward you with her feline-like gait. “No need to explain yourself. You’re Mr. Dekarios’ old friend, aren’t you? You look a tad different, but then again, so do most people that have died before.”

You blink, surprised at how little you needed to say for her to recognize you. “Yes, that’s me. How did you know?”

“A lady’s intuition, darling,” she says, lifting her head proudly a bit. “However, you also have that same air about you. Mr. Dekarios will be quite pleased to see you again.”

“We, erm, re-met each other earlier today,” you say, closing the book in your hands and turning to the tressym. “How have you been, Tara?”

“Very well, thank you for asking,” she bows her head a bit in acknowledgement. “You are far more polite than that wicked vampire you call a mate. Thank goodness you’re back, if only for that pale man’s sake.”

You laugh, vaguely recalling some of Astarion’s previous encounters with Tara. They got along about as well as two opposing felines would. “Has he been very difficult without me?”

“Oh yes,” she says, and her wings shuffle a bit in discomfort. “Nigh impossible to deal with. I don’t know how Mr. Dekarios puts up with him.”

You’re about to ask another question when her ears perk up, shoot back. “Well now, it seems like he and Mr. Dekarios are on their way to you. I am still working on preparations for the celebration, so do keep Mr. Dekarios occupied until I have need of him.”

You’d already planned on thoroughly distracting the wizard with questions about his tower and are only too happy to keep the tressym pleased. “Of course, Tara.”

She purrs a hum of approval before turning around. With a “ta-ta, darling” she leaves you waiting for the imminent arrival of Gale and Astarion.

The two arrive from behind the blue, velvet curtain less than a minute later. “Oh hello,” you say, looking at them from over the book you’d reopened.

Astarion looks to be in a better mood, though Gale looks distinctly less happy. It’s Astarion who speaks first, “Hello, darling. Hope we didn’t keep you waiting too long?”

The warmth of his words comes as a bit of a surprise. You look back to Gale, who is smiling at you sadly. I see , you think. Astarion thinks Gale will convince you to leave your project be– that he can grow attached to you now because you won’t be leaving him in the lurch. No matter, you think. This changes nothing for me.

So you respond with the same enthusiasm, “Not at all! I was just looking through the excellent book selection you have, Gale.” You hold up the red tome in your hand and his expression immediately lights up once again.

“Elameth's Compendium! Why, we used that book in your prior life, don’t you remember?” he says, his crow’s feet becoming more pronounced as he smiles.

You shake your head. “Unfortunately not. I didn’t receive every memory. And admittedly…” You look at Astarion who is looking at you rather smugly, knowing exactly what you’d told him multiple times now. The smug look will certainly only get worse with your words, but you also want to discuss your memories with Gale, as the sage and scholar that he is. “Most of my reveries were about Astarion.”

At that, Gale looks between the two of you, a pensive hand stroking his beard. “Fascinating,” is all that he offers.

“Yes,” you agree, ready to provide more information, to receive any and all theories he has about you and your memories. But, of course, the subject of your memories refuses to be excluded for long.

“Maybe if your evenings researching together were less dreadfully dreary you might have dreamt of more of them,” Astarion offers with a flip of his hand. “Now, shall we begin with the tea or the tour?”

The three of you decide to begin with a tour. 

Gale leads the way, his mane of long, white hair guiding your path forward. As a tour guide, he’s clearly well practiced, describing each room in detail, explaining its purpose, and even peppering in the odd anecdote or memory from your past life.

You go through a sauna, heated with fire runes. You walk past his actual library, filled head to toe with books of all kinds. You drop by his study, and its sweet scent of ink trails after you. An astronomy room, a storage room, a dining room, a sitting room– you begin to wonder how tall this tower truly is from its exterior. Gale explains that he’s had to renovate a few dozen times over the years, to ensure that the tower’s magic remains stable. As such, rooms come and go with a few, necessary exceptions.

Even among all of these extraordinary rooms, a few stand out to you, clear gems in the wizard's remarkable living space.

“This is the alchemy room, where I grow plants and create my various concoctions! I’m quite proud to say that you’ll find some plants that grow even on the other side of Faerûn. I’ve created many an interesting tonic– I’d exercise some caution if you find yourself in here. Why one time…” He trails off into a story about how Tara turned purple for a week. She was not amused, apparently.

“And this is the experimentation room, where I bring anything that may be dangerous to test. There are a variety of different materials for me to test spells and artifacts on, and the room is warded with a wide assortment of protection wards to make sure that the rest of the tower is unaffected. It certainly is helpful when it comes to any errant magic, wouldn’t you say Astarion?” The look Astarion shoots him is that of a man who has seen one too many Fireballs in his life.

“Now this is the enchanting room, where I create magical artifacts. Now this includes your customary garden-variety fare, but I do have the opportunity to create a few rarer objects, such as the sunlight rings that I craft for the spawn. You'll find that I boast all types of spell components and even have a few specialized work benches, infused with various magical properties.”

You want to stay in this room for hours, you want to look through each and every book, peruse the shelves, test out the recipes that are strewn about the place. But you hold back, merely asking Gale a few questions about where he sources his materials, whether or not he had a bench for each school of magic, and how long it took to create a sunlight ring.

Easier questions answered, you eventually ask him, “Is this where we worked on our ring designs together?”

Gale takes a quick glance at Astarion before nodding. “Yes, precisely. That’s exactly the type of thing we used to work on.”

You elect to ignore his word choice, pressing on, “I had a dream about that just last night. We’d settled on a ring made of silver, it had slotting for an inlay along its edge.”

Recognition passes over Gale’s eyes before he bows his head wearily. “One of the last times we spoke. That was our most promising candidate.”

You already know that much. Despite the way Astarion’s eyes tighten around the corners, the way that Gale’s sadness creases his mouth around his beard, you continue, “I had an idea I would love to speak to you about. Would you have time before your birthday festivities?”

The wizard’s head lifts back up, the sadness reaching his eyes now. “I think it’s best if we leave that part of our past behind us, wouldn’t you say?”

Luckily, you’d prepared for such a response, expecting it. From your memories, from understanding who he is, what Astarion might have said to him, you think you know just what to say. “I wouldn’t. At least, not until I figure out one last thing. I have memories of the necromancer’s notes. Untouched, unbloodied, but undeciphered. I just need someone to delve into my mind and pull them out. If it amounts to nothing, well, maybe I could move on. But a wizard once told me, my intuition has rarely led us astray.”

Neither of your companions say anything to this, but you can tell see the wheels turning in Gale’s mind. He’d tried, just as you had, to remove the blood from the notes. He’d attempted, just as you had, to decipher what was left. Here you were, offering him the key to a century and a half’s mystery. He’d be remiss to not take you up on it. 

Astarion, for his part, is simply looking at you. His red eyes seem to glow in the enchanting room’s magical lighting. You wonder if he believes you, that this will be your final attempt to try, that you would leave it be if it amounted to nothing.

I just know it will amount to something though, you think to yourself. I refuse to let it lead nowhere, not when I feel so close.

Gale interrupts your thoughts. “Well, I shall have a think on it and let you know later. For now, let me show you both to our last stop: the kitchen! Where we can also enjoy a lovely, little morsel and a cup or two of tea.”

Musings pushed aside for now, the three of you head to the kitchens for a late lunch. With all of Gale’s commentary, Astarion’s snarky interjections, and your own questions, the tour ended up being quite a few hours. You’re ravenous by the time the tea kettle rings and Gale shuffles about his kitchen preparing an afternoon meal for you all.

“Do you need any help, Gale?” you ask, scooting your chair back, ready to get up and join the wizard as he flits back and forth.

“No need, my friend. You are a guest after all,” he assures you, with a wave. A blue, spectral hand floats behind him, opening and closing doors for him as he artfully arranges what seems to be a hearty assortment of various meats and cheeses. “I may have aged a touch, but I assure you that I am every bit the gourmet chef I have always been.”

“Right,” Astarion mutters under his breath. “Every bit as capable of giving an entire adventuring party food poisoning.”

You chuckle at Astarion’s comment, only to recall that Astarion hasn’t had a real basis for Gale’s food since his early days of pretending not to be a vampire. Since then, his main diet has consisted of blood and wine, which you haven’t seen him partake in in over a week. “Aren’t you hungry?” you whisper to the man, leaning over to him in the event that Gale shouldn’t overhear.

His red eyes meet yours, and, as always, you can see the underlying hunger in them. It’s fruitless to ask, you realize. He’ll always be hungry. 

“I’m managing. Don’t you worry about me– Focus on getting your noisy stomach to quiet down.” He shoots you a wry smile, but you can’t help but worry regardless.

“Fine, but once that’s quieted, I will be bothering you again,” you say, pointing a finger at him menacingly.

“What’s this about noisy stomachs?” Gale asks, walking over with a plate stacked full of meats, cheeses, smears, breads, and assorted fruits. Far too much food for the two of you who could eat it– Perhaps more than would feed you for a week. “Why, I have just the remedy.”

The three of you, well Gale and yourself, enjoy the feast he’s prepared for you, chattering all the while about the various things you’ve seen in his tower, what he’s gotten up to in the last hundred and fifty years, and your life back in Neverwinter. You’re surprised when even Astarion chimes in with his own questions about your current life.

You learn about Gale’s latest research. They learn about your time at the arcane college in Neverwinter. Collectively, you reminisce about times that you’ve only witnessed through dreams. 

Together you have a pleasant afternoon, one that quickly turns into evening as you continue to chat. The entire conversation and atmosphere bring about a warmth you’d missed in your ‘normal’ life. Seated at Gale’s round kitchen table like this, you can almost pretend that this is your life. Perhaps it is now.

It’s only after a small “Ahem, ahem” interrupts Gale’s latest recounting of a particularly explosive application of the Weave that you all realize how late it’s gotten. “Mr. Dekarios, I’m glad that you and your friend have gotten reacquainted, but I am afraid I require your assistance in the dining room.”

“Tara! Of course, I shall pop right on over.” Gale turns to you and Astarion, smiling at you both in turn. “Well, my friends. It seems I’m needed for the party preparations. I hope you don’t mind my absence.”

“Not at all, Gale,” you respond, bowing your head in acknowledgement. “Hosting is plenty of work without my showing up here unaccounted for.”

“Nonsense!” Gale cries, standing up from his chair with a few creaking bones. “Why this may be the best birthday present I’ve ever received.”

His words sound so genuine, his smile so sincere, that you nearly miss what he’s said. A birthday present. Oh gods, I need to get him a present. “Say, Gale,” you say, catching his attention before he leaves. “When is the party proper?”

“Oh, right.” He gives a lighthearted chuckle, looking at Astarion as he does so. “You’ll forgive me for the befuddling schedule– it’s the only way I can ensure Astarion actually shows up on time. You know how he likes to avoid people.”

“Not to worry, I understand.” You snicker, only to earn an indignant elbow from Astarion. 

Gale looks between you two knowingly, and you feel your face flush under his sympathetic eyes. “Well, let’s see…” The man begins a countdown on his fingers. “Including tonight, the party is in five nights.”

“Oh!” you breath out, surprised. Plenty of time to explore the city, to hopefully speak to Gale, and, most importantly, acquire a present for him. “Sounds lovely. Thank you, Gale.”

“My pleasure,” he says. “I shall see you two on the morrow then.” Gale gives you both one last wink before following Tara out of the kitchen.

That’s how you and Astarion are left alone once more. The silence that settles between you is all at once easy and yet deeply uncomfortable. You want to fill it with something, but what can you say? That you know he wants Gale to dissuade you from your goals? That you haven’t known a peace like this in your entire lifetime and you’re afraid it isn’t meant to be yours?

Whatever it is, you need to say something, to fill the silence. You turn toward him in your seat and begin, “Astarion–”

“Darling, I–”

You both stop before you start, realizing that you’re interrupting each other. You’re the first to collect your bearings. “Go ahead, Astarion.”

He smiles at you and the tenderness in his eyes is difficult to miss, catching you off guard. “I just wanted to thank you.” When you only offer him a puzzled look, he elaborates, “For coming with me. I know it was a bit of a gamble for you after, well, everything. But this is already proving to be more… tolerable, than most years.”

His words spark a tingle in your chest, cause a warmth to bloom on your cheeks. It’s a compliment of sorts, and one that you weren’t expecting to receive. Given his sullen attitude and snarky comments, you’d expected a half-sarcastic, ‘This has been riveting.’

But the man never fails to surprise you. So you’re left speechless, nodding at his thanks, unsure of how to accept them.

“Now, what had you wanted to say, darling?” he asks, expression back in a confident mask, as if his words hadn’t just blanketed you in a deluge of emotions.

What had you meant to say? Right. You had wanted to fill in the silence, which seems almost banal in the wake of his sincere thanks. You comb through your own thoughts as quickly as you can, trying to find a reason to speak, to answer his expectant gaze.

“Would you like some blood?”

He blinks at you and you blink back, as if neither of you had expected you to say this. His response comes a moment later, a bit guarded, “I suppose I could use a snack. But with all of the day’s travel and your rather delicate constitution, are we sure that’s the best idea, darling?”

It may not have been your first or most pressing thought, but now that you’ve said it, you realize that feeding him is still quite important to you. So you press on. “I’ll be fine. It’s plenty late and I’ll be able to sleep off any ill effects,” you assure him.

“In that case, perhaps we first head back to our room? That way I won’t have to carry your limp body up several flights of stairs.” His use of ‘our’, his quick acceptance of your offer, it all feels so surreal. Maybe that’s what friendship means to him, but it’s sending you and your body mixed signals.

Either way, you agree without argument, and you both head back to your shared quarters.

Once you’re standing in the center of the room, you ask, “Where would you like me?” 

Astarion raises a suggestive eyebrow at you. “Oh, you absolute fiend. Here I was, thinking that a bite on the wrist was already quite intimate.”

“Astarion,” you chide, ignoring the way his low, sultry voice sets your skin alight. “I meant, would you prefer the bed, the couch, maybe a chair?”

“How dull, darling. The bed then,” he says, gesturing toward the yet untouched plush, blue bedding. 

You follow his direction and sit on the bed. After taking a quick breath, you get to work, rolling up the sleeve of your robe for him and exposing the tender flesh of your wrist to him. “Here you are,” you say, holding out your wrist to him as he takes a spot next to you.

“Mmm,” he murmurs, taking hold of your wrist, angling it back and forth between his cold fingers, as if trying to find just the right spot to bite.

“What’s the matter?” you ask, after the third rotation.

“It’s nothing, dear,” he says, fingers trailing the line of veins extending from your wrist. With his soft touch shocking your brain into submission, you barely register his words as he continues, “I was thinking, perhaps, I might need to bite a bit more carefully to keep you from growing faint again. I’m afraid I had rather gotten used to biting that delectable neck in your past-life.”

You gulp and you’re certain that the sound is audible to you both. “Is that so? Would you… prefer a neck?”

“Don’t you worry your lovely little head, darling,” he says, bending his head over your wrist. “I shall manage.”

You’re about to protest, to insist that he’s allowed to bite your neck, even as your heart pounds brutally in your chest at the thought– but his fangs sink in before a word can escape your lips and you’re left huffing out a small sigh.

Astarion’s lips smile against your wrist, and, were it not for the kind consideration he’d just shown you, you may have smacked him on his beautiful silver head for it.

Much like the previous times he’s had a nibble, his seemingly involuntary hums are more the source of your lightheadedness than anything else. The deep rumble that sounds from his chest sends your heart into a frenzied rhythm that your blood just can’t appear to keep up with.

Calm down, you think, imagining images of still water, light breezes, soft cats. Calm down or you will fall back again. Nothing seems to be working to quiet your pounding heart and, as you look at the angle of his nose, the soft curve of his cheek, you can feel your breath catching, your vision blurring.

No, you repeat to yourself. He will starve himself if it means you don’t get injured, keep yourself together. You’re startled by how accurate the thought sounds to your own mind. You knew he cared about you, but had you ever really sat down and understood the depth of it? However, you don’t have time to think about the implications of his concern because your world is beginning to spin.

Breathe, you command of yourself. You take a deep breath. 

Another, you think, and you feel your eyes start to focus as fresh air enters your body. 

Two large breaths later and you’re feeling significantly better– your heart is still racing, but the room has stilled and your body feels your own again. Just in time too, as you feel Astarion take one last drink from your veins, remove his fangs, and breathe a sigh of bliss onto your skin. 

When he pulls back to look at you, the flush on his face, the pink on his ears is still somehow worth the miserable feeling of blood loss. “So darling,” he says, licking his blood-stained lips. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling fine,” you say, smiling at him with the best, least exhausted grin you can manage. Certainly better than you have after your previous feedings. “Though I do think it is your fault that I feel faint sometimes.”

“Really?” Astarion asks, raising an eyebrow at you. “What am I doing wrong?”

“Well,” you start, not sure how to approach the issue with him, but needing to tell him all the same. “I think it’s the noises you make while you feed. My heart just, erm, panics a bit.”

Astarion looks at you with a blank expression. “Noises?”

Ah, so they are involuntary. “Yes, the mmm’s and the hmm’s and the–”

“Stop that.” Astarion raises a hand up to your face, placing it over your mouth. When you look toward him to see what could be the matter, you see that a blush covers his cheeks, that the tips of his ears have turned a deep red. “I– I thought I’d stopped doing that years ago.”

It’s as if time stills. You struggle with your confused, nervous thoughts as you register his embarrassment, the words he’s said.

Astarion is blushing, your brain thinks.

Of course, the rational part of you counters. He’s just fed, he’s going to have some blood in his system for a while.

But he’s blushing because of something I said, you supply.

Your mind goes blank at the thought.

You’re grateful that you can’t reply to Astarion, not with his hand over your mouth, because you’re not certain what is liable to come out of it at the moment. 

Luckily, Astarion continues to speak, not releasing your face, “Well, I apologize for the noises. I’ll try to control that. In the meanwhile, why don’t we get ready for bed? It’s been a long day.”

You nod into his hand, after which he removes it from your mouth. His face continues to have a touch of pink, and his eyes refuse to meet yours. You can hardly be bothered by it, because the only things running in circles in your mind are the feel of Astarion’s hand on your face, the sight of his perfectly blushed cheeks, and the fact that, somehow, despite everything, he still cares about your well-being.

The rest of the night passes in a blur. You end up having to take a quick bath to clear your mind, and you both get ready for bed separately. However, at the end of the day, you both wind up in the same, immense bed after all is said and done.

You thought that maybe something big would happen. Perhaps that he would recoil from you. Or worse, grab onto you. Maybe that the earth would open up and swallow you both. But nothing of the sort happens.

You both simply lay down, tuck yourselves in a variety of soft blankets, rest your heads on the best down pillows magic can conjure, and remain several feet apart on the massive bed.

Much like last night, Astarion puts out the lantern next to the bed and whispers to you, “Goodnight, darling.”

“Goodnight, Astarion.”

There’s simply no way that your reverie will take you tonight, of that you’re sure. You’re convinced of it, because all you can hear is the pounding of your heart, the muffled breath you take when you try to be quiet. But eventually, against all odds, your trance does overtake you.

That night as you enter your reverie, you blink your eyes open to a familiar inn.

Again, the establishment is dead, not a soul in sight in this remote village. And, as always, the innkeep reaches down into their front desk, pulling out another book.

It looks to be a book that they’ve already started– a bookmark is placed about halfway through its pages. The cover is mostly plain, a black leather with a large tower embossed in the center. In the smallest script you catch the title before they open the book, “The Midnight Tower and its Master.”

The innkeep flips open to their current page and begins to read… 

When you wake up from your reverie a few hours later, you sit up with a gasp, a hand clutching at your chest in surprise.

Next to you, Astarion stirs, looking at you with a drowsy concern. “Darling, are you alright?”

“I–I’m fine,” you say, taking several deep breaths. “I dreamt of the tower.”

[bellaramseysgf]

Home Late (E.M)

Warning(s); Smut 18+ only!, slight dub/noncon,controlling!eddie,spanking,mentions of his rings,praise kink,Eddie covers readers mouth with his hand,brief mention of drugging,insinuated to readers mom being a cougar,one threat of using a paddle.

Pairing(s); Stepdad!Eddie Munson x Afab!Stepdaughter!Reader.

Summary; You come home late and your stepdad take it upon himself to punish you.

A/n; this is the longest Fic I’ve wrote in awhile. It’s also very dear to my heart bc of how much effort I put into it. Please enjoy!!💕

You weren’t one to not follow rules. Whatever your mom said you did. Don’t talk to strangers, don’t eat ice cream for breakfast, make sure you do your chores. It was easy stuff to follow,really that was until he came along.

It was definitely weird seeing your mom date someone less then 5 years older then you. However,she was happy and that was the end of it you assumed. Until this dumbass asked her to marry him and decided to come in and reck your whole life.

He set new rules,changed your garage into some dnd meeting place,wouldn’t let your younger siblings watch tv past 7 and now you had a curfew of 11pm.

It pissed you off how your mom was just okay with it,she just let him come in a rule your world. Now,you were 21 and still living at home.

You still saw yourself as an adult, you work, you help pay for groceries or bills if need be,you were apart of this household. Yet he makes all the rules end of discussion.

You were doing this just to spite him really, just to see that stupid look on his face when he realizes you came home late.

Both Eddie and your mom always went to bed around 11:30, so you coming back at 1am should be just enough time that they’re both sound asleep.

You pushed your key in the lock and turned it as quietly as you could. You stopped to pull your heels off as well so that they wouldn’t clack on the floor.

The house was quiet,no lights on. You made your way to the stairs before a light flicked on and you jumped.

“Just where the hell were you?” You knew before you even turned around it wasn’t your mom who was waiting on you. “None ya.” You stated plainly turning to look at him. “2 hours past curfew, just what were you thinking?” You shrugged “I just lost track of time. I’ll clean something tomorrow to apologize.” “No, I think this needs to be handled a different way.” You raised your brow at him.

Eddie knew you were doing it to upset him, just because it took the man 3 years to finish highschool doesn’t make him stupid. You knew exactly what you were doing.

Eddie beckoned you over with his finger “what” you said annoyed and you walked to meet him in the living room.

You let out a gasp when you were thrown over his legs. “Eddie what the fuck” you were met with his hand pressing over your mouth. “Shut the fuck up. For once.” His open hand bunched your dress up until he saw your cute little cherry printed panties. “You’re so damn annoying.” He said and you gasped when a smack landed on your ass.

You mumbled curses into his hand and started to squirm. “Stay still before I get my paddle” his tone sent delicate shivers through your body. You stopped your squirming and were met with a “good girl” you choked back the whine that wanted to come out at his praise.

“You never want listen.” Smack. “Just so bitchy” smack. “You’re so disrespectful” smack. “You never listen to any rules” smack. “You think you can get away with it?” Smack. “No, you can’t.” Smack. “I’m so tired of your attitude” smack. “Someone needed to remind you of your place.” Smack.

You were in tears. The rings in his fingers leaving defined outlines more then likely. Your ass stung and you wanted to get up and run away before he could realize how wet you’d gotten.

“I bet I know something that’ll help with that attitude.” He said and used his open hand to undo his belt. “If I move my hand you be Fucking quiet.” He demanded and you nodded. He let you up as he worked his pants and boxers off. He wasn’t fully hard but he was almost there, the size of him made your pussy clinch around nothing.

“Panties, give them.” He held out his hand and waited patiently until you handed him the fabric. “You’re gonna sit still until I decide” he informed as he tugged you into his lap. “What..what about my mom?” Youvasked and he chuckled “don’t worry, I made sure she’d stay asleep.” You shivered.

Was he insane? Did he actually drug your mom? Why did that turn you on even more.

Eddie lifted your hips and lined himself up before bottoming out inside you. “Stay still and be a good girl.” He said and you nodded.

After long your eyes got heavy from the nights events. All the dancing you’d done catching up on you’re body,the aches sat in and your eyes became heavy. You let your body slump down into Eddie’s chest.”

“Sleepy?” He asked and you nodded “now you know why I’ve you come home.” He smarted off and you just nodded not having the brain capacity to snap back. “Wanna go to bed?” He asked and you shook your head. “No? Why not?” He asked and you answered with a roll of your hips which wasn’t a good idea, you were met with a slap on your ass afterwords.

“Use your words.” His tone was scolding and you let out a shaky breath “what about this?” You whispered and Eddie chuckled.

“Darling,when did I say I was gonna fuck you?”

[spaceagebachelormann]

oooh how about jekyll and/or hyde with a lover who stays up too late at night? like always catching them up at 2 am finishing something may it be a research or writing something,,, considering those two are night owls as well

✧.* 𝐉𝐄𝐊𝐘𝐋𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐘𝐃𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐒/𝐎 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐔𝐏 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄

╰┈➤ MASTERLIST. NAVIGATION.

╰┈➤ CARMILLAS NOTES : bro all these jekyll and hyde requests are actually making me so happy <33 i’ll take any opportunity to write for my bbgs

╰┈➤ WARNINGS : maybe like one mention of murder

𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐘 𝐉𝐄𝐊𝐘𝐋𝐋

he’s kind of a hypocrite

he also usually stays up pretty late before he turns into hyde, either just to get something finished or because he can’t sleep

but he hates when you do it

he’ll walk into the room and just give you a disapproving stare

most of the times he won’t try to make you go to bed because he already knows it’s useless and he knows you do sleep at night, just typically only for a few hours or so and that’s all he really cares about

but if it’s the early hours of the morning and he sees that you haven’t slept, he’ll drag you off to bed (after spending at least a half hour trying to convince you)

he’s much more understanding if you’re finishing something because he’s pulled all nighters working, but he’ll still be annoyed

odds are he’ll sit down and help you so it’s finished faster

but if you stay up late just because you want to

nope not tolerated

don’t make him pull out the pamphlet of reasons you need to sleep

he’s probably thrown you over his shoulder and dragged you off to bed before as if he hasn’t slept for twice as long

even if he’s horrible at convincing you to go to bed, he’s very good at making you fall asleep

not that he’s boring

after living with you for so long he’s gotten used to everything you do and what makes you fall asleep

he probably gets some music that isnt very loud or dramatic to play in the background on the phonograph and gets you a glass of water just in case and tucks you in and just sits beside you until he’s sure you’re asleep

𝐄𝐃𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐇𝐘𝐃𝐄

hyde, on the other hand, could care less

he’s very used to just seeing you awake at ungodly hours of the night and lets you do your own thing

it’s kind of just like “hey” “morning”

for the first like hour and a half of his night he’ll sit down and talk with you about whatever, inquiry on why you’re up so late this time and then go on with the night

he probably makes fun of you a little

on the nights you’re not working on something (or sometimes even if you are) he asks if you wanna come with him

yes obviously to commit crimes

he just drags you around the city with him to do his nightly bullshit

like he’ll take you to stands and teach you how to rob them properly and quickly without getting caught

he wouldn’t make you murder someone cause he just doesn’t care that much if you do or not

but he will teach you where the best places to hit are and will tell you your nails and teeth are very helpful in case you need to kill someone for whatever reason

he won’t admit it but he does care for you

not as much as jekyll would but he does

he also doesn’t really care if you see him kill someone cause in his words “i told you that you’d be a criminal at the end of the night.”

out of all the shit he steals for you that night, he lets you pick out what you like first and then steals them

and if he sees you’re getting tired he rolls his eyes and drags you home because he’d rather not have jekyll pissed the next morning

the most he’ll do is tuck you in and maybe sit beside you for awhile, but the second he sees your asleep hes off to do more shit

[neonponders]

Inspired by @gorbovsky-l ‘s art ✨🏀

[ Steve goes to the s4 basketball game but it’s for Billy. ]

~ my drabbles anthology on ao3 ~

• • •

Steve was grumpy, he could admit that. Well, he could admit it now that it had been a few hours. That didn’t stop him and Robin having an immature spat in the car over over Fast Times with the word boobies flying around.

Then, “Just get whatever is occupying your braincell off your shoulders, already.”

Steve’s jaw had dropped, openly gaping at the road towards Hawkins High. “We’re talking about your love life - lack thereof.”

“Hush.”

“Oh, am I talking or hushing?”

Robin burst out into tired, 7am giggles. “You’re so petty when you miss him.”

Steve sighed through his nose in defeat. He did miss him. Between the summer, the school year starting for the new batch of seniors, and winter basketball camp, Steve felt like he rarely saw his boyfriend. He had a green Hargrove 7 jersey in his trunk since the team was using the white jerseys for their final game, and that in itself was annoying.

Come get your jersey.

Come see me.

Steve couldn’t even fault Billy for being committed to something. He just wished it was a little more Steve and a lot less basketball.

But everything was fine. The bubble was about to break. They were finally having a home game, and it was the championship to boot. Steve’s back seat was crowded to show for it with Robin’s band attire: feather duster helm and all.

Steve was a sap. He knew it. He was ready for something long haul, but he hadn’t grown too far from the feeling of being a senior. He knew what it felt like to be a strong, upperclassman. Looked up to. On the verge of the rest of his life. He didn’t want to steal that from Billy just because they’d spent the summer being split up by jobs, hospitals, school, basketball camp...saving the world from a catastrophe that nearly took Billy away forever.

Maybe Steve wasn’t being too unreasonable.

But it also meant that Billy needed normalcy more than ever. He certainly deserved it.

So Steve dropped Robin off, and he went to Family Video for the long wait before tonight’s basketball game. The phone usually wasn’t too busy during the day, but he could predict some noise around lunchtime and the end of his shift. Today, lunchtime rang.

“Family Video, this is Steve.”

“Steve! It’s me.”

“Oh, hey, Dustin,” Steve greeted in something just a little better than a monotone. As if Dustin didn’t call from the school’s payphone every other day. “What’s up?”

Steve slowly grimaced as Dustin told him he had to fill in for Lucas at that night’s D&D campaign. Dustin got demoted back to his last name.

“Henderson, I graduated. I can’t go to your silly club session.”

“Well, Lucas has his stupid basketball game!”

“It’s not stupid. It’s the championship. You, me, and Max all know how much work he and the team have been putting into this season.”

The team. Billy. Billy was the team. Even with his injuries, recovery, and hard ass mindset that made him a lousy patient, Billy still maintained the stage presence to run the court.

He was still an asshole, but an observant one that had him taking Steve’s place as captain instead of the entitled judge’s son, Jason Carver. Billy might’ve been mean on the court but he was indifferent - even nice - in the locker room. Carver played nice on the court but wasn’t so nice off stage. Everyone’s doubts at the start of the season had been quickly put to rest.

“It’s a game, Steve - ”

“And your weird board game isn’t?”

“D&D involves weeks of plot, strategy, improvisation, and the statistical gamble of dice - ”

“Yeah, I seem to remember weeks of planning, myself. Whatever, I’ll be at the school supporting your friend for you. Uh oh, customers. Gotta go. Bye.”

“No- Steve!”

He was pretty sure he could hear Dustin cussing him out even though the phone was back on its mount. He smiled at the customers and tried to keep his glances at the clock to a minimum.

The day was easy until 4pm. Steve almost leapt out of his skin when he realized school had ended. Old habits. Today, it did mean the end of his shift, though, so he clocked out and went home to freshen up.

Freshen up for what, he didn’t know. He might have some old habits but he’d forgotten how stuffy the gymnasium could get during a game. Probably because he usually spent games on the spacious court, not the stands -

“Hey, Steve!”

He rotated to see...Stacie. No. De-uh-B-Brenda! “Brenda, hi.”

Her teased and permed hair floated around her as she smiled and walked with him into the gym. “How are you? It’s so weird. Like, half our class is gone, and the rest are hard to find.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Steve said, even though he didn’t, really. All of his enduring friends were younger. With the exception of a very - tragic - few, they were somehow all alive, too.

Brenda meant alumni who had moved away. Steve didn’t contribute this much.

Predictably, spaces were available in the bleachers next to the band. People usually didn’t want to be right next to the noise, but this meant he could be close to Robin. He kept his tone jovial and polite as he curtly gestured at the bleachers. “I’m heading up.”

“Sure!” she chimed, accepting his hand for a boost. Not really his intention, but he’d never had any issue with Brenda. She was nice, smelled good. Great at math but just as crap as he was in Mrs. Click’s English. She tasted like bubble gum when they made out at a football game three years ago. All things considered, she and Steve were on easy footing.

Until Tammy Thomson showed up to sing the National Anthem.

He and Robin caught each other’s side-eye the same time. Told you, he mouthed. Muppet -

“Wow,” Brenda breathed. “She sounds amazing, doesn’t she?”

Steve smiled on autopilot, and just as quickly recoiled once her head had turned back to the performance.

He tried not to rock too strongly on his feet. He didn’t need everyone on the bleachers looking at him like x-ray vision, making him feel exposed and ready to scream over how he needed Robin’s sass, the weekend, a freaking burger, and Billy to run his mouth. A lot of mouth. A lot of...

Steve raked his hands through his hair, stuck between thinking the world of his boyfriend out there on the court and the fact that they were losing. The white jersey actually covered all of Billy’s scars, but Steve and Robin could see his fatigue arriving faster than the rest of the team. They glanced at each other, only interrupted by Max manifested between them.

“Hey,” Steve frowned. “Have you been here the whole time?”

She glanced at him, deadpan. “Duh. Which of us is going to convince him to sit on the bench?”

Steve blew air between his lips so they vibrated. “I thought you knew him better than I did. Billy doesn’t take losing well.”

Max glared at him. “He’s going to have a heart attack.”

“He’s in good hands,” Steve defended, but he could feel his confidence rapidly draining. “Peter Townsend is diabetic and the couches always kept an eye on him.”

Max grimaced at him like he had spoken another language, but as soon as she tried to say more, their coach called for a timeout. The team huddled up, and it wasn’t a big wonder why. Their best player had more than run out of steam, he’d overspent himself, and they only had a minute left to get anything done. Covered in sweat and rocking with their breaths, the team listened to Carver arguing with coach until a decision had been made. They needed a fresh player who could make the most out of a minute, and they had one.

“SINCLAIR! You’re in!”

Max and Steve heard the freshman gawk. “Huh?”

“You’re in! Son, let’s go!”

He ditched his warm-up jacket and ran into the huddle for the plan. Steve crossed his arms after giving Max a tug on her jacket so she would get off the stairs and stand with him. Billy would skin them alive later if they made a scene of approaching him on the bench, so they had to stay put.

To everyone’s trepidation, shock, and jubilant relief, Lucas delivered. Saving the world a few times had made him sharp, adaptable, and frugal with every second. The nerd managed to convert all of it into a game he had only started playing this summer.

And to top it off, he landed the final shot. Hawkins High won the game.

Steve exploded, jumping and yelling and waving his arms. Max screamed Lucas’s name, clapping her hands until her palms glowed scarlet. When the referee’s whistle coupled the scoreboard in announcing the game over, the team crowded around Lucas and Billy, and the court flooded with people.

Steve moved through the crowd easily with Max in tow, and finally - finally - got a face full of Billy. Running made his hair light and fluffy, eyes glowing as he realized who were holding onto him.

He called, “Hang on! Hang on!” and Steve let him go as the team finally set Lucas down onto his feet after hoisting him up. Billy gripped his shoulder for his attention, and Lucas accepted his hand. “Not bad, Sinclair. Not bad.”

Lucas beamed, only for his smile to drop into shock at seeing Max. “Max! You came?”

“Yeah, whatever,” she scoffed, but with a smile. Then Lucas hugged her and she looked ready to punch him. “Oh- Ew. Gross, you’re disgusting. How are you this sweaty after only a minute?”

The older teammates laughed for some reason but they all got hustled into the locker room - including Steve. He didn’t realize his blunder until the coach started doing a congratulatory speech to the team, and Steve slipped behind a wall of lockers to head toward the door...but he didn’t leave. He wanted to know what the coach had to say on Billy’s behalf. He wanted to know how the team treated him and Lucas.

He both got it and didn’t, since the coach tactfully uplifted everyone without dragging out everyone’s flaws. That was good. Billy couldn’t take a compliment without being reminded of how he had to sit out the rest of the game. More importantly, the coach spoke about how grateful he was to have the seniors under his wings after such a year.

For a gut-wrenching second, Steve thought the coach was going to mention the kids who were still “missing” from the summer.

He didn’t. He kept the room on high feelings, warning the rest of the team that winning a championship wouldn’t make things easy next season, and that they had summer training to look forward to. He reminded them to clean up after themselves, and saw himself out right as somebody unearthed a boombox from their gym bag.

“Why the hell did you bring that thing?”

“To either celebrate or wallow in our sorrows,” came the reply, followed by laughter and rowdy singing...

Steve looked up when a pair of pants was thrown over the wall of lockers. Right under the waistband of the sweatpants, was a Hawkins tiger, and a yellow number seven. Steve smiled and yanked it all the way onto his side.

Billy soon followed, coming around the lockers to find his pants in Steve’s hands. A bright smile flashed on his face before he reigned it in and sauntered toward him. He had to get close to be heard over the noise of music, singing, and locker rattling. “You’re a weird dust bunny.”

Thank goodness for the noise, because Steve snorted as he reached for him. “Come here.”

Billy let him. Billy never would’ve let him before July of 1985. But Billy let him now, cradling the sweaty-damp junction of his skull and neck, nuzzling his nose with Billy’s to encourage Billy to finish the distance. Billy’s lips were soft, unbearably soft and insistent. His arms initially went around Steve’s body, hands sliding over his shoulder blades and then down, down to give the hillocks of his ass cheeks a lift.

At least Billy had some tact, because the bubble burst and Steve tilted his head for more. Billy’s hands lifted up for his waist, incidentally hiking up Steve’s grey shirt but no further. Lockers chimed behind Billy’s back when Steve pushed him against them. Steve felt more than heard Billy’s low hum in his throat, the vibration on his lips and the breath from his nose.

Steve didn’t care that Billy had a game’s worth of sweat and filth on his skin. The only thing keeping him in check was his concern for Billy’s heart and lungs. Kissing made him out of breath, sometimes. For Steve it was as blissful as it was scary.

But this time, Billy chased his lips when he pulled back. His hand found Steve’s hair and Steve felt teeth in their kiss -

A locker slammed over the music, inducing someone to holler, “Sinclair! You comin’ tonight?”

“Uh, let me think on it. I’m gonna shower real fast!”

Billy stepped off where he’d been leaning against the lockers and Steve composed himself in time for Lucas to step into view. He tried to play it casual, but his wide eyes said, Scram, already!

Steve smiled bashfully and waved him away. To Billy, he asked, “Are you coming over?”

Billy scoffed and Steve couldn’t blame him. Big championship party tonight -

“You joking? I’m moving in. I’m exhausted and I want pancakes everyday for the next week.”

A stupid giggle spat out of him. He might’ve actually spit a little. Steve felt like he could cry. He didn’t, though. He’d cried enough for a whole summer.

“Deal... How do I get out of here?”

Billy smirked and nodded his head toward the bathroom side of the locker room. “We’re about to run Sinclair out of the showers.”

[rieadiary]

COOK WARS

bf!w.hrt x gf!reader

summary ; wherein you and haruto wanted to go on a date but it turned into something sweeter than that

warnings ; haruto is sweet, fluffy, stress(?), wearing haruto’s hoodie, hand holding

a/n ; originally had this idea with shotaro but i wanna write about treasure more so.. boom also this is really short bc i didn’t know how to make this longer so show this love pls :<

You waited in line hand in hand with your boyfriend Haruto who was just as impatient as you were, annoyed that the reservation line wasn’t getting any shorter but the line was steadily getting longer.

“Ugh. I wish we came earlier” you complained and Haruto chuckled, squeezing your hand gently “it’s okay, better now then never right?” He tried to lighten the mood, smiling once he knew it worked.

“But I’m hungry now. By the time we get in we’re gonna be eating later”

“I know. I know, but let’s just wait a little longer yeah? It might be worth it” Haruto comforted, a soothing smile accompanying his reassurance.

So you didn’t mind waiting longer, until that longer became half an hour and now Haruto was starting to grow hot and sweaty, his hand clammy and you were already annoyed and hot but that was already established.

“Haru-”

“Baby i know, we can leave now” he muttered and you thanked the lord, glad you could leave.

Once in the car you both sat in the cold air conditioning for about two minutes. It was exceptionally hot outside and the wait had made it worse, not to mention there was people cutting the line and you weren’t going to say anything but maybe you should’ve.

Haruto started up the car and drove y’all to a corner store, the lights beaming through the windows “how about I make you some ramen hm? Quick and easy” he offered and you glanced at the store with a frown. You wanted something expensive tonight but you supposed that whatever you didn’t do tonight there was another time for it.

“Do you even know how to make ramen?”

Haruto looked offended, a small ‘hmph’ escaping his lips “I do. You don’t remember that one time I made it for you and you begged me to make you some more?”

You did recall the day he was talking about. His ramen was so good you couldn’t even distinctively remember the taste because it was sucked down in less than ten minutes. Your mouth practically watered at the memory,

“If you make it like that then I’ll take it”

Haruto smiled youthfully getting out the car with no hesitation as he went in the store to get things for dinner.

He came out after about fifteen minutes of you attempting to nap but not being able to because all you wanted was to go home and shower. He got back in the car and handed you the bags, “I got you those candies you like, just to make you feel better”

“You’re a saint” you thanked him with a giddy smile, already sucking on one of the pieces of candy as he drove the both of you home.

After getting home you immediately showered and relaxed after the overstimulation of being in public, you put on one of Haruto’s hoodies and sighed as you realized that y’all’s date was ruined.

“Baby” Haruto kissed your cheek, knowing you were stressing about the date “don’t think about what happened today too much, these things happen okay?” He reassured you as you nodded, giving him a small peck on the lips.

“Now cmon’ the foods ready and I wanna hear all about how you absolutely love it” he bragged and you followed him to the kitchen to eat with him.

You both laughed and talked throughout the whole meal and you realized Haruto was the best boyfriend you’ve had in awhile, he made today still be amazing even though the two of you couldn’t go into the restaurant y’all wanted.

You ended the day watching Disney movies with him, falling asleep in his embrace.

xoxo, riea!

TAGS ;

[symbioticsimplicity]

This Idiot Has Seen Goncharov

So today marked the coalescence of the Goncharov Incident as I’ll be calling it, so I think it’s finally time to share.

For a bit of context, you need to know a little more about one of my co-workers. We’ll call him Zeke. First it’s important to note that despite being in his early thirties, Zeke doesn’t have any sort of social media accounts outside of a MySpace page. Dude has straight up been living like it’s still 2007. Zeke also has a fixation with my friend/roommate who also works with us. Zeke will hop onto whatever bandwagon this friend, who we’ll call Jesse, is on. But most importantly to this whole tableau, Zeke likes to tell tall tales, like no matter what you’re talking about, or what you’ve done, this guy has done it but bigger and crazier.

That alone would be annoying, but it wouldn’t be enough to push myself and Jesse to the level we’ve hit with him. For me, it’s the constant need to put other people down for ‘knowing less than he does’ despite the obviousness of his knowledge being a collection of poorly constructed lies. Like not only does he lie, but this dumbass doesn’t even bother to check into the things he lies about. Several times he’s tried to convince me of something in a subject I know everything about. He refuses to admit to being wrong and he won’t back down from anything he’s said, it’s infuriating.

For this, and quite a few other reasons transphobic cough cough augh, he’s been bothering Jesse and I for quite a while. Badly enough that the spite fueled wasp nest that lives in the back corner of my brain Morse coded a plan to me.

Goncharov.

What better way to trip up a ride or die compulsive liar than a piece of media well known for being entirely fictional?

The next day, when Zeke climbed into my car during our lunch hour, Jesse and I began talking about this old movie we’d recently watched. The two of us have known each other more than long enough to able to follow each other’s bullshit like second nature, we’ve played an assload of DND together. In ten minutes we’ve got the whole first arc talked out with a few of the “best scenes” highlighted. (Personal favorites being Andrey juggling guns “a la John Wick/Guns Akimbo” and Katya killing a man point blank after saying ‘Get Gonch’d bitch’ in a 1973 film.)

Zeke didn’t respond too much, just kind of nodded and ignored most of the convo since it wasn’t really about him. I didn’t really expect him to engage to start, he usually doesn’t, but we’d planned to keep this up for another couple days anyhow.

But like clockwork, the more Jesse talked about it, the more Zeke seemed to remember it. Enough that I jumped ahead a little and pulled up the faux movie poster to show him.

He squinted at it then nodded and said he’d definitely seen the movie before.

When I tell you I almost fucking screamed.

Of course he couldn’t remember many details because it had been so long since he’d seen it. To tell you the truth I’d checked out at that point, I was focused on not losing my shit, I have no fucking idea what he said.

While this was an entire meal served up on a silver platter, it would have been pretty easy to say he’d seen the poster somewhere despite not having socials. I want this man incinerated, not merely singed.

Which leads me to the events of the last couple days.

So Zeke came up to Jesse and I and told us he wanted to re-watch Goncharov and asked us if it’s on Netflix.

Jesse and I both said that it is, without hesitation.

Zeke went to look for it (at work, while we’re working no less, again I missed the rest of what he was saying here I was mentally biting him) and obviously found nothing. So he searched every other streaming platform he had, and Youtube, all once again coming up empty.

At this point, I was sure the jig is up. He was actually searching it now so obviously he’d find one of the search results letting him know Goncharov’s true nature. I’m fairly certain the first result for it on Google says that it’s fake.

Oh hoo hoo, no.

Zeke came to me to complain about not being able to find the movie and in a fit of clandestine fervor, I told him that we probably watched it on a pirating site.

It was beautiful, it was inspired, and it worked.

Zeke asked me for the site and I told him that I’d have to get it from our other roommate since she’s in charge of the tech in our house. Then I hauled ass to go find Jesse and spill the latest tea before Zeke could. 

Later on Jesse sent him the link to the site, and he told us he’d find it over the weekend.

Well today, friends, is Monday.

Most of today we spent too busy to go grill Zeke about whether or not he’s crossed over into the fucking Mandela timeline and managed to watch Goncharov. But ten minutes before close, while we’re waiting to go, suddenly Zeke perks up, and remembers that when he gets home, he has to finish watching the movie. He’d had trouble getting the site to work on his phone, but his Xbox had run it, and he’d started watching it, but had unfortunately fallen asleep before he’d finished.

Now. I am a calm man, I can keep a straight face if I need to. But hearing this fucking idiot tell me he’d started watching a fictitious movie made up by Tumblr.com of all places nearly sent me to the fucking Shadow Realm with the amount of effort it took not to crack.

He talked for a couple more minutes before fucking off to do something else, I have no idea again I wasn’t fucking listening, I was trying not to visibly cry from holding back laughter.

But then he left and like instinct, like the inevitable impact of atoms inside of the Hadron collider, Jesse and I turned to look at each other. I knew what Jesse would say, Jesse knew what I would say, and like fate, like destiny, like two people who had witnessed a man commit manslaughter against his own damn self, we spoke at once.

“This idiot has seen Goncharov.”

[wrenreid]

Off Limits

content warnings: daddy issues

Part Eight

“Jade,” my father’s voice follows his knocking on my door. “Jade, can I come in?”

I’m still laying in bed, but I’ve been awake for about an hour. It’s around 10am, and I’ve just been on my phone.

“Please?”

“If you have coffee, then yes,” I say.

My father comes into my bedroom. “No coffee, but I do have an apology.”

“I’m listening,” I tell him, not even looking up from my phone.

“Could you at least look at me?”

I look up, setting my phone on my chest.

“I’m sorry. You’re right. You’re an adult, and you can go to parties if you want to. It won’t keep me from worrying because that’s my job as your father, but I’ll try to stop commenting on it,” my father tells me.

I’m almost so shocked that I could laugh. I don’t, but I could. I don’t think he’s ever apologized for something like this. He always validated his judgmental and overprotective habits by saying he’s not just my father, but he’s also an FBI agent and knows what goes on in the world.

That has always annoyed me. I know what goes on in the world too. Hell, my Mother died from part of what goes on in the world. But that doesn’t mean I should live in fear and shy away from having fun. It just means I need to know how to handle myself. I need to be cautious but not so cautious to where it takes over my entire life. I’m not going to lock myself in my apartment and be scared of the life outside of it.

“Thank you for the apology,” I say, sitting up a little straighter. “I think you need to worry a little less about what I’m doing in my life and focus more on the kid you have that needs you more.”

Dad sighs, but nods. “Are you saying you don’t need me?”

“I’ll always need you, but Jack is a lot younger than I am. He still needs you to make sure he takes a bath,” I say with a soft smile. “Just let me be 21, okay?”

Another sigh releases from his lips. “Okay. There’s breakfast downstairs if you’re hungry.”

I give him a thumbs up, and he leaves my room.

I think that was some father - daughter progress right there. I don’t trust that he’s going to be off my back, but I have hope that he’ll keep to his word and chill out a little.

Dad, Jack, and I have family time for four days until Dad is called about a case in Michigan. He’s hesitant to go at first, but I tell him it’s fine.

I’m used to him grabbing the duffel bag he always keeps packed and heading out the door with a kiss on my forehead. What’s new?

I’m a little annoyed, though. Four days was all we had until he flew off to another state.

“You’re missing my recital?” An 11 year old Jade whined, my arms crossed.

“I’m so sorry, princess. I have to go to work,” Dad said, that black duffel bag in his hand.

“But you just got home! And I’m going to be in the front!” I felt the tears welling up in my eyes, and I choked them back.

My father frowned, sighing softly. He bent down to my level, holding my hand. “Mom will video it for me. I have to go help people. Do you understand?”

I nodded, but I hardly understood, especially at a young age.

When I was around seven years old, my mom put me in dance classes to occupy some of my time and allow me to have an activity that would get my energy out. I loved it, but I wouldn’t say I was great at it. I stayed in the classes until I was 12 and was tired of my dad never being able to make any of the recitals or daddy- daughter rehearsals since he joined the BAU.

He gave me a small, relieved smile before kissing my forehead. “I’ll be back soon. You’ll do amazing tomorrow.” He kissed my disappointed looking mother quickly then went out the door.

Jack and I are left alone for some sibling bonding time, which usually means watching and playing whatever he wants. I guess I don’t mind too much; I have nothing better to do on a Wednesday afternoon.

A part of me wishes Spencer was here with us again. He would have entertained Jack easily and said some interesting facts stored in his magnificent brain. He’s also not a bad sight to look at.

—————

“You do not have to do that,” I tell my boss assuringly.

“Oh c’mon, let me pay you back somehow,” he says, using his stern voice.

“Okay,” I press my lips together and nod.

Hotch suggested he take me out to dinner as a thank you for watching over Jack last week. I don’t think it necessary since it wasn’t any trouble, but he insists.

I wonder if Jade would be there when he buys me dinner. A part of me hopes she won’t be, but another part wants to see her again.

I don’t know why I’ve been thinking about her as much as I have. It’s not as if she is all I think about, but I find her sneaking her way into my thoughts when I’m eating popcorn or even playing chess.

I tell myself it’s not wrong to think about a person. We as humans think about billions of things, and other humans are a part of those thoughts. But it still feels like I am doing something I shouldn’t when I see her face in my mind.

You’d think someone as smart as I am would understand why she’s inhabiting my brain at least a few times a day, but I haven’t.

The jet ride is finally over, and the six of us step onto solid ground.

For the next two days and two nights, we’re in Michigan solving a case of four murders.

It’s Friday afternoon when we’re back in Quantico, and Hotch is still determined to buy my dinner. I agree when he says to meet him at the restaurant at 7.

After finishing paperwork, I leave the office around three.

—————

“Well, yeah we’re going with you,” I tell Dad, “I don’t want to cook dinner.”

He laughs softly. “Alright. Be ready by 6:30.”

I’m glad he wasn’t gone for too long. There’s no telling how many days cases will take. Some take two, and some can take up to a week or two.

I take a shower at 5, giving myself enough time to let it air dry most of the way before using a little heat.

Dad hates when I take my phone into the bathroom with me when I’m showering. It’s not like he thinks I’m taking pictures or anything- or at least I assume he doesn’t think that. But he’s always scolding me about the steam getting into my charging port and fucking up my phone, which he reminds me every time that he will not buy me a new one so I learn my lesson. Of course, he would buy me a new one because he needs to call me three times a day while I’m at school just to see how and what I’m doing.

I sing along to the music playing from my phone that rests on the counter top. As one can see, I’m not very keen on listening.

Once I’m sure I’ve taken a too-long shower, I step out, dry off, tie my hair up into a t shirt to help dry it, and go to my room.

I throw on some straight leg jeans that are form fitting around my ass and thighs but flow down the rest of my legs spaciously. I then put on a navy blue long sleeved crop top and my white hightop converse.

After my hair dries most of the way, I blow dry it to add some volume. I keep my makeup light, just mascara, eyeliner, and a bit of concealer.

I’m not dressing up for Spencer as much as I almost want to. This is my usual look. Plus, I think if I did dress up a little my dad would notice and I’d be embarrassed as hell.

I meet Jack and Dad at the door at 6:27, and we head out to the restaurant. We park next to Spencer’s car. He’s always early to everything. I admire that.

He gets out, greeting my dad, Jack, then me. He gives me a little wave, seeming awkward and almost nervous. I shoot him a smile.

Spencer opens the door for us. “Thank you,” I say softly as I walk past him.

The dinner’s going well. Dad and Spencer are making conversation, and me and my brother are brought into it occasionally.

We’re waiting for our food when Jack stands up, doing his little ‘I’ve got to pee’ dance. Dad takes him to the bathroom.

“So how was the case?” I ask, resting my head on my hands as I look across the table to Spencer.

“It went well, and it didn’t take too long. Overall successful,” he says nonchalantly.

“What, no interesting facts about it?” I tease, a flirty smile on my face.

I may not be able to act on my crush, but can at least flirt a little.

“Well, I learned what twilight is,” he chuckles softly.

I laugh too. “You’ve never heard of twilight?”

“Not until yesterday, no,” he says innocently, confused as to why I’m shocked.

“It’s a pretty well known franchise.”

“Maybe I should look into them?”

“No,” I laugh a little harder. “You shouldn’t. They’re kind of awful.”

“Oh,” he presses his lips together, his cheeks pink.

I eye him with a smile. “It’s cute when you do that.”

“D-do what?” Spencer asks me. The blush on his cheeks gets darker, and he avoids eye contact.

“That,” I giggle softly. “The nervous lip thing and looking down.”

“Thank you?” He clears his throat nervously.

“You’re welcome, doctor,” I say with a grin.

Before I’m about to say something else flirty, my dad comes back with Jack. They sit down, and I sit up straight before giving Spencer a look.

He’s adorable when he’s flustered. And I probably, no I definitely, shouldn’t be teasing him like this, but what’s the harm in flirting? I probably won’t see him again for a while.

It’s also refreshing to flirt with someone who doesn’t try to fuck you after you say one thing. Instead he’s all red faced and nervous. I like it.

Maybe I’ll have to toy with this a little more. I need something to entertain me.

—————

I feel like a blubbering mess.

What was she doing? Was that flirting? I think so. But why?

Jade made me feel something that I definitely shouldn’t have. I was all hot and nervous, and my stomach was fluttering.

I’ve been flirted with before, sure usually it’s prostitutes and older women, but it’s still flirting. So why is it that when Jade did it I could barely say anything, and I just sat there blushing?

I was sort of relieved when the night ended, and I went back to my apartment. It’s not that I didn’t want to see her, because for whatever reason I did, but I needed to get away from all the blushing and butterflies in my stomach.

My boss’s daughter should not be making me blush and queazy. She shouldn’t be flirting with me either, and I shouldn’t allow it… but I kind of liked it. At least just a little bit.

It was just one little flirty conversation though. We won’t see each other often anymore because she’s not in the city much, and I’m busy with work. Good.

I couldn’t help but notice her scent and smile as she walked past me earlier when I held the door open for her. Her beautiful fragrance hit my nose and made me want to follow her mindlessly like those stupid, no talking cartoons like Tom and Jerry. Jade flashed me a smile too, a friendly, and now that I’m thinking about it, flirty smile.

I’ve got to get her off my mind. She’s my boss’s kid, and that’s all she is. She’s young, and young people like to flirt with no meaning nowadays. It’s just a fun little game to them.

I head to bed, a book in my hand. My eyes skim over the pages quickly, but I’m only retaining half of the words. The other half of my brain is filled with Jade.

nine

tags: @pauline5525mgg @theintimatewriter r @lilibet261 1 @greysviolets @jazzymariexoxoc @one-sweet-gubler @thatsonezesty13 @necromaniackat @awhoreforspencerreid @sebs-oxygen @scarredelirium @bts-sugaplum m @awesomeness1679 @preciousbabypeter @yazzyu @cynbx @r3idsp3ncer @1010lizz @tiredbut-here @skulzombiw @lena-1895 <3

[duckdoeswords]

Change of Pace Ch.2 - You Don't Know Me

Summary: When a scandal breaks out after her father is arrested for Electoral fraud and Tax evasion she takes this opportunity to disappear leaving Atlas for a small town in the south where her Grandfather had a small farm that had fallen into disrepair. She arrives hoping to find a better life for herself and her daughter.

Words: 4912

Main Relationship: Weiss Schnee/Ruby Rose

Rating: M

Notes: I'm currently working on posting links to fics I forgot about to tumblr. I'm also trying a new format for posting said links. If you want to set the mood for the fic please check out the playlist for it and you can check out my ko-fi if you want.

Fic:

Weiss was woken up by the sound of a phone ringing off the hook. She blindly reached toward the sound, grabbing the phone from the receiver and pressing it to her ear. “Hello?” She mumbled groggily, annoyance leaking into her words.

“Hey. I’m gonna need you to check out in the next half hour or you’ll be charged double.” The voice was familiar, but Weiss couldn’t quite place it in her exhausted state.

“What!? What time is it?” Weiss was annoyed. Not only did someone wake her up, but they had the audacity of telling her to scram.

“It is, uh, 8:30.” The voice on the end replied, causing Weiss to run a hand over her face.

“And who told you to call me?” The tired mother wanted to know who thought they had the right to disturb her sleep.

“Well, my boss just told me to call up into room 206 and tell them that they have to be out by 9.”

“And your bosses name is?”

“Blake Belladonna Ma’am.”

Weiss pinched the bridge of her nose letting out a withering sigh. “Of course it is.” Moving to throw her legs over the side of the bed. “I’ll be down in ten minutes.” Weiss slammed the phone down on the receiver, angrily throwing back the comforter before pushing herself to her feet.

Moving around the bed, Weiss knelt beside her daughter gently shaking her awake, causing Ivory to mutter. “What?” She was obviously unaware of her current surroundings and situation.

“We have to go downstairs, peanut.” Weiss was less than thrilled about waking her daughter up already.

“S’eepy.” Ivory rubbed her eyes, wanting to continue her peaceful sleep.

Weiss brushed a strand of messy hair behind her ear, sighing as she had to play the firm mother. “I know so is mommy but I have to talk with the hotel staff.” Ivory looked sleepily up at her. “Once I’m done talking, we’ll get breakfast. Sound good?”

Ivory’s ears shot upright as she pushed herself upright excitedly. “Can I get pan’akes!?” For whatever reason, Ivory couldn’t quite pronounce ‘pancakes’.

The tired mother laughed, ruffling Ivory’s already messy hair. “Yeah. We can get you some pancakes.” Ivory jumped out of bed and made a running start for the door only to stop when Weiss cleared her throat. She turned, ears pressed against the top of her head to see Weiss holding her shoes. “Forgetting something?”

The small child threw her head back, letting out an overdramatic and drawn-out. “Nooooo!”

“Oh please, get over yourself, you little drama queen.” Weiss rolled her eyes watching as Ivory’s ears flicked to the side as Weiss undid the laces, gesturing for her to come forward which the child did rather reluctantly. Ivory sat down in front of Weiss, squirming as she slipped the shoes on her feet. “Over, under, pull it tight. Make a bow, pull it through to do it right.” Weiss sang as she tied the laces before repeating the rhyme as she tied her other shoe. “And done~” Weiss smiled down at Ivory, slapping her hands against her legs gently. “You’re ready to go downstairs.”

Ivory stood up, moving from foot to foot. Her face scrunched up in discomfort. “They’re pinchy.”

Continued on Ao3

[inairbinad]

Steve's Got a Date with a Vampire! (5)

part five of seven | Explicit (eventually) Part One | Part Four | Read on AO3

It had been less than two full days since the fair, and Steve was practically dying to be anywhere but at the Family Video. On a date with Eddie would have been preferable, but he wasn’t feeling all that picky after getting roped into picking up extra hours the day before. And now Steve was back again, wondering if Keith was single-handedly trying to keep him from finding an excuse to see Eddie. 

“Please stop sighing,” Robin grumbled from across the store where she was restocking tapes. “It’s incredibly annoying.”

“I’m not sighing,” Steve argued, knowing full well he was lying.

“You are,” Robin glared at him. “And I’m sorry that your job is interfering with your love life, but you have to be here. So the least you could do is not spread your misery around.”

“You’re very mean to me,” Steve pointed out. 

“I know,” Robin beamed back at him. “I’m the worst and that’s why you love me.”

Steve was gonna argue with her just to have something to do, but the phone rang before he got the chance. It was Dustin.

“What are you doing after work?” he asked without saying hello. 

“Sleeping, hopefully,” Steve yawned. Back-to-back early shifts on the weekend was not something he was cut out for.

“Boring. I’m coming over,” Dustin informed him.

“May I ask why?” Steve made sure to let his lack of enthusiasm color his tone.

“First of all, because Ma is driving me a little bit batty,” Dustin complained. “Second, because I wanted to ask your advice about something Suzie related and it’s more of an in-person conversation.”

Steve’s eyes instinctively narrowed. He didn’t trust a single word Dustin said anymore, but if he was up to something Eddie related, that would be just about the only thing that could pick Steve’s spirits up at this point. So he didn’t bother to try and say no.

“Okay, when?” he asked instead.

“Do you actually care if I go over there now?” Dustin asked, his voice just a tad too sweet. “I could use the alone time and just see you after your shift. I’ll use the key under the frog.”

Several alarm bells started blaring in Steve’s head, ranging from Dustin willingly forgoing a free ride, to the fact that he wanted to spend—Steve checked the clock—three hours alone in Steve’s house. 

Steve was very glad that he kept a spare shirt and some cologne in the trunk of his car for emergency after-work dates. He was kind of excited to see what the little asshole had planned next. 

“Sure, kid,” Steve said with a smile. “Whatever you want.”

———

Steve really had to admire the scene that he walked into when he opened his front door. 

Dustin pulled out all the cheesiest stops that he could think of, it seemed. All the lights were dimmed, candles flickered just about everywhere Steve looked, and a trail of goddamn rose petals led him through the house and out onto the back patio, which also happened to be recently decorated with several strings of fairy lights.

And there Eddie sat, dressed in his usual ripped jeans and a faded t-shirt, lounging in one of the patio chairs with all the grace of a Greek god and a small, soft smile on his face.

“Impressive little fucker, isn’t he?” Eddie asked as soon as he saw Steve taking in the view. More candles were scattered out here, easily complimenting the way the moonlight glittered against the calm surface of the pool. The table Eddie was sitting at had what looked like an entire meal prepared and waiting on it, and even a tablecloth, too. “I gotta say, I thought he might’ve been more subtle than this.”

For some reason all Steve’s half-functioning brain could ask was, “Did he leave all these candles burning and waiting for you?”

Eddie didn’t seem surprised by that question at all. He only smiled to himself and casually drummed his fingers against the tabletop as Steve made his way closer to sit. 

“Oh, no,” Eddie’s eyes were full of mirth as he launched into his story about how he’d gotten roped into this one. “He let me in the front door, refused to answer any of my questions about why it looked like he was trying to seduce me, made me wait in the foyer, then booked it out the back door and took off on his bike into the woods.”

Steve folded himself into the chair opposite Eddie and hoped he looked graceful while doing it. He barely suppressed a hysterical laugh when he saw that Dustin had poured a glass of blood for Eddie into one of his mother’s crystal wine glasses. 

“Subtlety isn’t exactly his strong suit,” Steve shrugged, and took a sip of the regular old Coke that was waiting for him in his own wine glass.

“Okay, fair,” Eddie agreed with a soft smile. “But I didn’t think he’d top locking us in a closet in terms of obviousness.”

“What excuse did he use on you?” Steve asked. “To get you here?”

“'Emergency' D&D character questions,” Eddie laughed. “You?”

“A conversation about Suzie that he really needed to have ‘in-person,’” Steve quoted, honestly thankful that had been a line.

“He’s lucky you didn’t have a cow and think he was gonna ask you about sex,” Eddie pointed out with a wry grin.

“Well, I might’ve,” Steve admitted, “if I didn’t know something like this was what he was really doing.”

Eddie’s eyes snapped to Steve’s then, like somehow he was actually surprised to hear it. Even after all this, he realized, Eddie wasn’t sure about how Steve felt. Two nights before, in somewhat of a daze in Robin’s bedroom, Steve made a promise to fix that. It seemed like now or never.

“And yet here you sit, apparently unbothered by it,” Eddie remarked.

“Yep,” Steve said, letting him dangle a little bit.

“Why?” Eddie asked, worrying at his bottom lip. Steve watched it greedily, keeping his eyes on Eddie’s mouth long enough for Eddie not to doubt his intention.

“Because I want to be here,” Steve said simply. “Why’d you stay?”

Eddie’s eyes were practically on fire as they got caught up in Steve’s. “Because I want to be here.”

Even though he knew it was coming, Steve’s stomach swooped to hear it straight from Eddie’s lips. He didn’t bother trying to hold back a beaming grin. 

“Good,” he said, then pulled the lid off his plate to find that Chef Dustin made him a frozen pizza for dinner. Steve could only shake his head and laugh. “Should we eat, then?”

“Cheers.” Eddie held out his glass and clinked it against Steve’s. Then he leaned back in his seat, a picture of calm as he sipped his blood cocktail. He kept his eyes on Steve the whole time, looking over the rim of his glass and assessing Steve like he was some kind of puzzle. 

“So, just to be clear,” Eddie said, and Steve bit back a self-satisfied smirk. “This is a date, right?”

“What gave it away?” Steve teased. He was entirely surprised—and pleased—to see that when Eddie looked down at his glass with a shy smile, it was to hide a blush. Steve couldn’t help himself when he said, “Wow. You’d think with the vampire powers you’d get lucky enough not to blush anymore.”

Eddie shot him a look that was both adorably embarrassed and somehow still full of heat. He squared his jaw, scoffed in an entirely offended tone, and said, “Well, my whole existence revolves around blood these days, sweetheart. So I’m afraid it’s only made mine more...reactive.”

Steve swallowed thick, catching what Eddie was hinting at, but he wanted to hear him say it. 

“I’m so sorry for you,” Steve said, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling too big.

“It comes with other advantages,” Eddie fluttered his eyelashes and actually glanced down at his lap for a fraction of a second, so quick Steve might’ve missed it. But Steve didn’t miss anything Eddie did these days.

“You’ll have to enlighten me later,” Steve said, voice full of promise. 

“Bold assertion to make on a first date, Stevie,” Eddie murmured, and Steve merely smiled at him, unwilling to back down now. Eddie placed his glass down on the table in a fluid, graceful movement that left Steve watching every muscle move beneath his t-shirt.

“I’ve already let you drink my blood, Eds,” Steve pointed out with a laugh. “I think we’re beyond the rules about which base goes with which date.” 

For a split second, Eddie stared at Steve in disbelief, and he worried he’d been too forward. But then Eddie laughed, flashing his dimples at Steve in a wickedly delighted grin.

“Speaking of first dates, how did we end up on ours courtesy of Dustin Henderson?” Eddie asked, sending a little bit of bite back in Steve’s direction.

Steve was hoping for a whole lot of bite, in reality, but that could be saved for later as well.

“You know how he is when he gets a bee in his bonnet,” Steve shrugged, pushing the thought away for now. But Eddie saw right through it.

“Oh, so you didn’t encourage him at all?” Eddie asked. “He just guessed that this—and the fair, and all the other insane shit he’s done recently—was something you’d be open to?”

“I mean, we’ve both been kind of obvious,” Steve tried. 

“Stevie.” Eddie’s voice dipped low, and Steve knew he wasn’t gonna wiggle out of this one. Weren’t vampires supposed to be able to read minds? Was that what was happening, or was Steve just about as transparent as Eddie’s skin, these days?

“I might have admitted to him that I have a teeny crush on you?” Steve offered up, hoping Eddie wouldn’t run wild with it.

Really, he knew better. Eddie’s face split open into a wild grin, fangs and all.

“And we both know that’s as good as opening the floodgates,” Eddie said, absolutely gleeful.

That was true enough, Steve would admit. But there was something of an undercurrent to Eddie’s expression, lurking just beneath the surface. Like some kind of deeper understanding.

“You did it too, didn’t you?” Steve asked, letting a few pieces slot together into place in an instant. Of course Dustin would have been pushing harder if he had confirmation of affection on both sides. Eddie laughed, looked away for a split second, then trained his eyes on Steve’s face again. 

“Right after the pool party. He kept asking me why I was sulking,” Eddie said simply. “And he wasn’t buying the ‘I’m an undead creature now, Henderson, I’m allowed to be in a mood,’ excuses, either. He just came right out and said, ‘It’s because of Steve, isn’t it?’ And I caved. I can never say no to that little shit.”

“Well, we definitely have that in common,” Steve said around a disbelieving little laugh. Sometimes he didn’t know if he wanted to throttle Dustin or kiss his forehead. “He asked me if I hated you, and accused me of acting like King Steve again with those big sad eyes he does? So I had no choice but to admit why I was getting all flustered around you.”

“Because you had a crush on me,” Eddie added with a smirk. “Just to clarify.”

“Have,” Steve corrected, staring at Eddie unabashed now. “Present tense, Munson.”

There was that blush again. Goddamnit, this was already the most fun Steve had had on a date in ages. Maybe ever. 

Steve realized that the more he opened up, the more of a response he got out of Eddie. So he kept going.

“Robin agrees with you,” Steve said casually, and Eddie tipped his head to the side in question. “Her theory is that I told him because I knew he’d help make this happen.”

“Did you?” Eddie asked, grinning again. 

“I didn’t really mean to,” Steve admitted. “But, in the back of my mind, or whatever? Probably.”

“Such game, you have,” Eddie teased. He added to the effect by nudging Steve’s foot with his own. Instead of feeling embarrassed about it, Steve leaned in to the buzz of anticipation it gave him, to relinquish a little bit of power to Eddie. Steve could see how it affected Eddie, knowing how gone Steve was for him—hearing him admit the lengths he’d go to for Eddie’s attention. 

“I won Lars for you, didn’t I?” Steve said, somehow managing to defend himself a little while only adding to the effect. Eddie dipped his head to give him credit for that. “And I thought my game in the pool was pretty good, even if you won that round.” 

“So you did like the popsicles,” Eddie said, like he was realizing it for the first time.

“Um, obviously,” Steve said, still incredulous that Eddie hadn’t been sure. Steve was pretty sure that particular display had left him drooling. 

“I mean, you got all cagey after that!” Eddie said. “I thought I freaked you out!”

“Jesus, Eds. I wasn’t freaked out, I was turned on,” Steve groaned. “And in a room full of children, wanting nothing more than to jump in your goddamn lap.”

Eddie looked at Steve like he was considering inviting him to sit in his lap now. Steve would have happily accepted, but forced himself to wait for whatever Eddie had to say, first.

“I—okay.” Eddie huffed, then leaned back in his chair and dragged his eyes down Steve’s chest. He met Steve’s gaze again with complete earnestness. “I never thought of it that way.” 

“Not even after the closet?” Steve asked, an eyebrow raised. Now that he’d said it out loud and Eddie knew, he wanted Eddie to know every single time Steve felt like he’d melt in Eddie’s presence. Which was pretty much always.

“I may have noticed some…excitement,” Eddie said with a teasing grin. “But I talked myself out of it meaning anything. I’d just sucked your blood and all.”

“Eddie,” Steve sighed, wondering how on earth they were both so stupid. 

“I’m not good at this like you are!” Eddie exclaimed, and Steve gave him what he hoped was a deeply skeptical look. “I’m not, okay? I can string together some pretty words but the actual wining and dining part? Dustin gets that from you, not me.”

“I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit,” Steve said softly. Even he had to admit he could have taken the leap, or at least done more to show his interest in Eddie was serious, but Steve wasn’t going to beat himself up over it now. Not now that Eddie was here, talking openly about his feelings and occasionally blushing. “I’m sorry for ever making it seem like I’m not crazy attracted to you, or that I wouldn’t want this.”

“We’re kinda dumb, huh?” Eddie asked, and Steve couldn’t help but grin stupidly. 

“Yeah, kinda,” he agreed. “Thank god we have Dustin.”

Eddie laughed, a delighted and lilting sound, and readjusted in his seat by just a touch. He was still smiling, but had all the sincerity Steve had ever heard in his voice when he said, “I’m sorry for always assuming the worst.”

Steve might’ve had the impulse to think Eddie’s assuming the worst was about him, about his past and how he probably didn’t deserve the benefit of the doubt. But looking in Eddie’s eyes in that moment, he knew there was more to it. He could see the same insecurities he wrestled with dancing there behind Eddie’s gaze—the assumption that he couldn’t possibly be getting what he wanted. 

Steve reached his hand across the table in offering, and Eddie quickly threaded his fingers through Steve’s and gently squeezed.

“Do you have popsicles for dessert?” Steve half-joked, trying to put a smile back on Eddie’s face. It felt less funny and more suggestive when Eddie’s eyes flicked to Steve’s neck, though. Steve felt a wave of heat wash over him and pool in his gut, threatening to burn him through. 

Eddie raised a single eyebrow in curious inquiry. “Are you offering?” 

Steve didn’t get the chance to reply before a low rumble of thunder came booming across the sky in warning, and Eddie’s eyes lit up like the promise of a storm thrilled him. The first waft of rain soaked air finally hit Steve’s nose, and he breathed in the sweet, earthy smell of it. He wasn’t in any rush to get inside if that was just the first warning boom. 

It turned out he was wrong, though, and it wasn’t enough warning at all. Within seconds a sheet of rain descended upon the back patio, and the both of them were caught in the downpour. The patio umbrella they were under shielded them from most of it, but it was a good ten feet to reach the shelter of the house.

“Think we can make a run for it?” Steve asked as he quickly moved around the table towards Eddie, holding out his hand in offering. Eddie smirked, all-knowing and confident as he grabbed on and stood. Eddie’s mannerisms had always fascinated Steve, the way he used his body to perform, to impart extra emotion into everything he said and did. But now Eddie had a lithe kind of grace to him, as well, which was just as mesmerizing to watch. 

Steve realized he was staring and snapped himself out of it. He dragged his eyes up towards Eddie’s and they exchanged a determined glance. Then they made a run for it. 

Steve didn’t account for how Eddie’s speed would get them inside nearly unscathed. Steve had been expecting to get drenched, but Eddie deftly danced them inside with a finesse that made Steve’s stomach swoop. What few fat, cold raindrops did manage to catch them only made Steve laugh, feeling all at once like a little kid again from the thrill of it.

“Forgot you could do that,” Steve said, breathless once Eddie had the patio door sliding shut behind them again. He ran his hands through his hair, trying to shake loose what little rain had caught him.

Eddie was still watching the rain through the door, an almost spellbound look on his face.

“You okay?” Steve asked, laying a gentle hand on Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie turned to him with a smile that made Steve’s heart beat a little faster.

“Perfect, actually. I was scared I would hate lightning now, after everything.” Eddie paused to look out through the glass doors, apparently marveling at the way the rain made the surface of the pool ripple. “This is the first good storm since I woke up, though. I’m glad I'm with you for it.”

“Me, too,” Steve all but whispered, just as another crack of lighting broke across the sky, illuminating Eddie’s pale skin in a milky glow. He was so goddamn beautiful that Steve’s breath caught.

Of course, it was in that moment that the power cut out.

“Seriously?” Steve laughed as he looked around them. Thanks to Dustin’s candles they weren’t immediately plunged into darkness, at least. “All that planning and the little shit didn’t check the weather?”

Eddie snorted as he turned around and took in the scene around them, with everything now illuminated in a soft glow. “I’m wondering if this isn’t exactly how he planned it, actually.”

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose, realizing Eddie was probably right. “If I find out we’re the only ones without power…”

“C’mon Stevie,” Eddie chuckled and tugged him towards the living room. “Might as well make good use of the candles and rose petals.”

Part Six!

[zwritestuff]

it's just casual (it's pathetic)

Scarlet and Yvie aren’t a thing, they hook up every now and then, and go for late night fast food at whatever chain is open on the rare occasion they go home at the same time and don’t feel like hooking up, and occasionally go to cheap bars to drink cheap drinks and Yvie will draw circles on the back of Scarlet’s hands while talking about her childhood and teenage years, and Scarlet sometimes will send her TikToks that remind her of her, and Sugar and Spice snicker and scurry away when Yvie comes near her during work hours—but they’re not, like, a thing. It’s just casual. (It’s pathetic). or: Scarlet's actions blow up in her face, Yvie is a stone cold bitch for all she knows, and neither knows what "communication" means. (ao3)

a/n: do people still post fics directly on tumblr? anyway.

Word count: 5513

“What do you think about our new bartender?” Sugar and Spice ask, doing that weird synchronization thing that freaks Scarlet out and makes her nearly jump out of her skin.

Scarlet is currently leaning against the far corner in the main room, where Widow put an inside plant some time ago that hides Scarlet just fine. She looks up from her phone screen and cranes her neck to try and catch a glimpse of the new hire, but that proves difficult since she’s facing the other way talking to the other bartender, Kameron. The only thing Scarlet can make out are the red braids and her white t-shirt.

“Dunno, haven’t met her yet.” She shrugs, going back to reading the PDF of the textbook she put off for the past few weeks.

“She’s, like, hot,” Sugar says, with that ditzy giggle Scarlet still can’t quite figure out if it’s fake or genuine. “I’m positive she was looking at my tits when we went to introduce ourselves.”

“Would it kill you to not fuck any more of the bartenders?” Scarlet replies, finally putting her phone away. “What, do you have, like, a bingo or something, Sugarella?”

The twins cackle, more so Spice, who receives a swat on the arm by Sugar. Their banter is cut short when they receive a glare from Widow who’s passing by, checking everything is running smoothly, and the twins quickly scurry away to the kitchen while Scarlet stays put in her place, pretending to fix her uniform.

Widow fixes her a stare that means get up and do your job and Scarlet immediately emerges from behind the plants she’d been hiding in. 

It’s not a busy day, not at all, but Scarlet has an exam tomorrow and this textbook reads more like anything other than English. It also doesn’t help that she’s not up to date with the texts, but whatever.

She goes around taking and delivering orders, chatting with the twins and the rest of the staff every now and then, and when no one’s listening she recites latin declinations under her breath while the mayhem of the restaurant roars around her.

She’s been working for Widow for a little more than a year now, since these are her final years of uni and her classes are far less now that graduation is on the horizon. Scarlet never thought about working in the service industry before, but she needed a job and this was the only place that called her back.

It’s… Nice. As nice as a restaurant with a blatant clique of co-workers slash friends can be. There’s this old group of waitresses that go all the way back to when Widow owned a restaurant in a different side of the city, it feels High School-y, in a way. They’re so tight knit they don’t really make space for new people, or at least they never made any space for Scarlet. 

Whatever, at least the twins like her.

“Good evening, ladies, I���ll be your server tonight, what can I—”

“Oh my god, bitches, you’re here!” 

When Jackie shoves Scarlet off with all the force her body can manage, it takes all of Scarlet’s willpower to not grab Jackie by her hair and drag her around.

Out of nowhere, all of the old waitresses gather around the table Scarlet was about to serve and their overlapping voices make for a very annoying scenario. Soon Widow is marching up to them, and Scarlet hopes, for a brief second, that they’ll get an earful about proper workplace behavior, but much to her disappointment she joins them in the chaos.

It takes her a couple of seconds to guess the pair of women were part of the original waitressing staff and that the blonde doesn’t just have a few pounds on her, she’s pregnant.

The moment Jackie and the rest start sobbing is the moment Scarlet turns on her heels and gives herself a cigarette break.

“Fucking absurd,” Scarlet mutters, kicking open the back-alley door with a cigarette in one hand and a lighter in the other. “If she weren’t Widow’s favorite, I’d—”

“You’d what?”

“Jesus fucking yellow penguins!” Scarlet exclaims, turning around to look at the stranger. When her heart stops pounding against her chest like it wants to come out of it, she recognizes the red braids. Oh, yeah. The new bartender.

“So? What would you do if ‘she’ weren’t the boss’ favorite?” The newbie prompts, a cigarette dangling from her lips, like a damn bad boy from the 60s movies where all the bad boys have leather jackets and pounds of gel on their hair.

“Like I’d tell you,” Scarlet answers, fetching her cigarettes and lighter from the ground. “Who’s to say you’re not a snitch?”

“Do I look like a snitch?”

“You look like a lot of things,” Scarlet retorts, eyeing her up and down.

She’s hot, she has to admit that. She’s taller than her, just a little bit, her arms are leaner, and she’s rather thin. Her arms are covered in tattoos, and if Scarlet forces her eyesight a little bit, she can make out finger tattoos.

“Is it a requirement to get tattoos to be a bartender?” Scarlet blurts out, fixated on making out what her finger tattoos say.

She flexes her fingers, looking intently at Scarlet. “No, but it helps with tips.”

“I suppose so.” Scarlet tries to light up her cigarette, then realizes her lighter ran out. “Got a light?” 

The bartender holds out a vintage lighter, one that makes Scarlet whistle in appreciation, and leans closer with her cigarette trapped between her lips while the hot newbie lights it.

Once she gives it a first drag, she says, “‘M Scarlet, by the way.”

“Yvie,” she merely says.

“Welcome to the family, Yvie,” she says, holding up the cigarette like one holds a champagne flute to make a toast. Yvie chuckles, then imitates her.

“My pleasure, Scarlet.”

***

“Yveeeeees, I need a gin tonic, a virgin daiquiri and a mojito,” Scarlet drawls, handing Yvie the order.

“This is the fifth time you’ve come here during your shift,” Yvie points out. “What, are you pushing cocktails onto your customers so you can come see me?” She flirts like it’s her second nature, and Scarlet rolls her eyes and sighs in an exaggerated way.

“Oh, yeah, like I’d want to come see your annoying face.” Scarlet waves her off, placing her tray under her arm and walking away from the bar, with Yvie’s laugh echoing behind her.

She’s definitely pushing cocktails onto her customers. Instead of suggesting one of the many expensive, fancy wines they have in store, she’s suggesting cocktails under the premise that, Well, it’s Friday! Why not have some fun? It helps that the cocktails are much, much cheaper than the bottles of wine they sell. 

Scarlet knows it’s a little pathetic, high school-y even, the way she wants to find any possible excuse to perch herself against Yvie’s bar, trying to find the perfect angle that makes her hot enough in her hideous waitressing uniform, pulling down her cleavage just a little bit so Yvie has a good look of the beauty mark on her left breast.

It’s not a sin to want to fuck the very hot, very lesbian new bartender that everyone else has their eyes on—not in Scarlet’s mind, at least.

Sugar and Spice caught on to this pretty early, when they saw her one time trying to fix her stupid bun falling apart before approaching the bar. 

“Since when do you care about your looks while you’re on your shift?” Spice pointed out with a giggle.

Scarlet didn’t dignify that with an answer. “Don’t you have tables to attend? Why are you always up my ass?”

The twins held up their hands in mock surrender at the same time, and the following times they interacted with Yvie, Sugar didn’t try to hit on her. Scarlet couldn’t say why she was so relieved that Sugar refrained from going after Yvie, but she thanked her anyway during one of their breaks.

So whatever, now she tries a little extra to look put together on the nights she’s working with Yvie, playing up the annoyance façade, sizing her. Bartenders are flirty by nature, and she’s not planning on making a fool out of herself by making a move based on flimsy evidence.

“Scarlet, Blair called in sick,” Jackie tells her the moment she steps foot into the kitchen. “Do you think you can cover for her tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow’s her turn to close, no?” She mutters, chewing on the inside of her cheek. Jackie nods. “Well, fine, yeah I’ll do it. Put me down for it. I need the money.”

Jackie smiles, pleased. She’s been an assistant manager for a month and she brings that iPad everywhere she goes, it’s like it’s an extension of herself nowadays; her and that iPad run this place like the navy. Nothing is ever out of place, out of time. Sometimes she wonders if she was always this methodical, if she was more laid back when the restaurant was still a small thing hidden among skyscrapers.

Scarlet goes to ask Dusty for some fries, when Jackie speaks again. “Oh! You’re closing with Yvie tomorrow.”

A cheshire cat-like smile blooms on Scarlet’s face.

***

She looks mad, positively crazy, she’s sure of that: here she is, at 1 A.M on a Sunday, sweeping floors and humming tunes like a Disney princess. The twins weren’t working this shift today, and thank fucking god for that, she doesn’t need them nagging her more than they do.

The majority of the girls working the Saturday night shift, including Blair, are part of the cliqué Scarlet will never be part of, and although they didn’t even attempt to make conversation with her during the beginning hours, Scarlet couldn’t care less.

She’s going to fuck Yvie. She doesn’t care if it’s on one of the tables, on the bar, or in the refrigerator but she’s gonna do it. It’s been five months since Yvie started working here, and now she finally has her golden opportunity. Tonight she’s a woman on a mission, and nothing can deter her.

Once the waitresses start filing out, saying goodbyes in general and never just towards Scarlet in particular, excitement starts to bubble up in her stomach. It’s like she’s back in High School all over again and she plotted to be alone with her crush at one of the many house parties she has no recollection of, the only thing still within her memory reach being hot lips against hers.

She’s just sitting at the hostess chair, swinging her legs back and forth, with child-like excitement. Yvie is finishing at the bar, doing whatever she’s supposed to be doing, and she’s waiting for her. Her plan is simple: unbutton the first button of her blouse, approach Yvie, say something seductive, gauge her reaction and go for the kiss.

It’s simple, it’s easy, it’s worked all the time for her.

“Are you all done here?” Yvie asks, her footsteps being the only noise left—for now.

“Yup,” she replies, “You? All done at the bar?” Scarlet straightens her spine, indubitably making her tits stand out. Yvie’s eyes wander down there for a brief second, but they go back to her face. Step one, done.

“Uhm, oh, yeah, all done. You?” She says dumbly.

“You already asked me that, silly,” she laughs in that sultry southern way that’s known for making women fall to her feet. “What, do I make you nervous, Yves?” Scarlet throws her hair back, uncovering her neck.

Yvie gulps, now unabashedly giving her a once-over. “Not the word I’d use.”

“Oh? What word would you use, then?”

It happens in a flash: Yvie ducks down, captures her lips in a kiss, and it’s not in the sweet, gentle way of the romance movies Scarlet watches until her retinas burn. It’s anything but; it makes her insides churn with lust and that’s way more fun.

They don’t fuck inside the restaurant, but in Yvie’s car. Yvie’s tiny car barely manages to contain both of their tall bodies; maneuvering themselves to be in a position where both are comfortable goes exactly how Scarlet thinks Circus De Soleil rehearses go.

Scarlet’s toes are touching the roof of Yvie’s car and she’s pretty sure she’s going to get a cramp, but Yvie’s tongue is licking at her folds and, really, her brain can’t register much else right now.

“You’re beautiful,” Scarlet says, sincere, looking at her through half-lidded eyes.

Yvie smirks, with her fingers still inside her, and a thought rattles in Scarlet’s mind about liking the way Yvie smiles just for her, but that thought goes out the window the moment her orgasm starts to build up in her stomach.

***

“We should close together more often,” Yvie says, from the driver’s seat, while Scarlet is putting her clothes back on.

“We’re a great closing team,” she replies, putting on her blouse and then realizing—“Shit, I can’t find my bra.”

“Just leave it, I’ll find it and give it back to you.”

“You better! It’s a love & lemons one, those are expensive.”

“Awh, you wore your expensive bra to work? I’m flattered,” Yvie jokes, winking at her through the rear view mirror.

Scarlet doesn’t dignify the implications with an answer.

***

She blurts it out to Sugar that she fucked Yvie the other night, and Sugar tells Spice, who tells Brianna, who tells Crystal, and that is how she gets pulled into the cleaning supplies closet by Heidi during the Wednesday lunch shift.

“Scarlet, didn’t you know?” Heidi starts, as if Scarlet has any clue what this is about.

“Know about what?”

“Yvie is Crystal’s ex,” she says, like it’s common knowledge.

“Okay. And?” It’s not like Crystal is single and pining for her ex; she’s engaged to some blonde seamstress called Gigi who used to work for Widow four years ago, she has her own clothing store now, she reckons. Pretty sweet catch, if Scarlet says so herself.

Heidi seems caught off guard by Scarlet’s indifference.

“Well, friends exes are usually off limits—”

“Crystal is not my friend,” she points out, because she isn’t.

“Yvie’s never serious about anyone,” she says this time. “You shouldn’t get your hopes up. She only sleeps around.”

“God, we fucked once! It’s not like I want to marry her,” Scarlet groans. “None of you ever considered me a friend, why do you suddenly care? I didn’t even know she’s her ex, because, again, she and all of you are not my friends.”

Heidi seems positively mortified, but they both know Scarlet is right. So she simply apologizes—Scarlet isn’t sure if she’s apologizing for casting her aside or whatever this intervention was—and they go on about their lives.

“Hey, hot stuff!” The twins say in sync, when they run into Scarlet just moments later. “We just wanna remind you of our birthday party, it’s three weeks from now down at our parents’ house!”

“Our tiny flat would never be able to hold in so many guests,” Sugar comments, handing her the invitation.

“Yeah, good thing mom and dad are leaving that weekend.” Spice winks, and soon they’re off to do whatever it is they do when they’re not pestering Scarlet.

Scarlet inspects the envelope; for a pair of girls who are obsessed with social media, handing out paper invitations seems like a paradox, and then she remembers they’re also obsessed with Y2K, so, whatever, it figures. 

The sparkly pink envelope with all types of stickers manually placed on it reminds Scarlet of when letters were still a thing and she would spend her lunch money sending letters to her friends who lived just some neighborhoods away, just for the thrill of it. When life was good and easy, and she didn’t have a bartender taller and hotter than her watching her every move from her very empty, very lonely bar.

“Hey, Jackie, this place is dead,” Scarlet comments when she runs into Jackie in the kitchen. “Can I leave early? I don’t think you’ll need me.”

Jackie looks at her, then at her iPad, then she chews on her lower lip and agrees. “Just do your side work before you clock out.”

Scarlet goes to take her things from the little storage room they keep for the staff’s personal belongings, and lingers there for a bit when she hears a pair of footsteps behind her.

“Hey, Starlet! You’re leaving early?” Kameron’s voice asks. Scarlet turns around, an attempt at a relaxed smile on her face and sees Kameron and Yvie on their way outside, they're probably going on a smoke break. Yvie is eye-ing her up and down, with her hands stashed in her pockets.

“Yup. It’s pretty dead here, so Jackie let me go already. I’m clocking out before that changes. See ya!” She makes her exit with her heart beating in her ears, her face getting as red as her hair. The high-pitched tone with which she spoke makes her insides churn with shame. God, Yvie must think I’m pathetic.

She stations herself outside of the restaurant, lightning up a cigarette to calm down her trembling body. It’s summer now, and the humidity makes her feel so gross and sticky she actively hates herself when she lights up the cigarette and makes herself sweat a little more.

I’ll quit it when I want to, she told herself some years ago, but here she is.

She’s about to start walking to her bus stop when she hears the restaurant’s door ring, and a distinct pair of footsteps she’s come to recognize like one recognizes the sound of birds in the morning.

“Hey, ‘Starlet’,” Yvie says, nonchalantly, “need a ride?”

Scarlet turns around, ready to say no because Yvie is giving her that lust-filled look that promises that her ankles will end up on her shoulders, and she really really can’t, because it was a one off time to quench her thirst and now that’s all done.

“Yeah, sure,” she says, however, thinking with her imaginary dick rather than with her brain.

Yvie holds out the car door for her, like a gentleman, and she sits with her legs pressed tightly when she looks through the rear view mirror and sees her lacy pink bra resting on the backseat.

It’s obvious and redundant to say Yvie drives them to her own place instead of dropping Scarlet off, and that she can’t quite stomach it when Yvie calls her gorgeous when she’s between her legs and moments later tells her they should keep this casual.

***

Scarlet feels stupid, completely and irrevocably pathetic.

Here she is, being eaten out on her friends parents’ bed by a pretty woman on a house party, a house party that’s supposed to be kept a secret because the twins didn’t have permission to throw it in the first place, and the secrets of the universe are being revealed to her as said pretty woman keeps looking at her like she’s some sort of prey.

“God, you’re so pretty when you’re needy for me like that,” Yvie says, coming up to kiss her. Scarlet tastes herself on her lips, and gives a low whine.

Part of why she feels so pathetic is down on the first floor of the house, probably sitting all angry in the living room couches, looking like a cheap replica of Scarlet, most likely complaining to her friends about Scarlet, not discarding just yet searching for another body to make her company tonight.

Yvie is a gorgeous woman, Scarlet knows that; she attracts attention wherever she goes, so naturally there was someone else interested in her at the party. Scarlet doesn’t know Irene Dubois personally, she’s a friend of the twins and they’ve gone clubbing as a group once or twice before, but she’s not her friend (Scarlet thinks the way she looks so much like her is a little freaky, so she keeps her distance).

Irene was flirting very openly with Yvie, who, although not as enthusiastic, was flirting back. 

Scarlet and Yvie aren’t a thing, they hook up every now and then, and go for late night fast food at whatever chain is open on the rare occasion they go home at the same time and don’t feel like hooking up, and occasionally go to cheap bars to drink cheap drinks and Yvie will draw circles on the back of Scarlet’s hands while talking about her childhood and teenage years, and Scarlet sometimes will send her TikToks that remind her of her, and Sugar and Spice snicker and scurry away when Yvie comes near her during work hours—but they’re not, like, a thing. It’s just casual.

(It’s pathetic).

So Scarlet couldn’t really go up to Yvie, intimidate Irene and very subtly tell her to fuck off, drag Yvie up towards an empty room and slip out of her dress before Yvie had fully closed the door behind them, because she’s twenty-fucking-five and not a petty high school girl falling in love with the girl she sometimes fucks.

No, she couldn’t. So she didn’t.

Irene finished her drink, Yvie went to get more vodka from the kitchen, and Scarlet just so happened to drop her cup, so she also made a beeline for the kitchen. She batted her eyelashes, said nothing about the other redhead staring at Yvie across the room, and it took Yvie all of five seconds to ask her to “go to the bathroom with her”.

The pathetic satisfaction she felt upon seeing Irene stare daggers at her as Yvie took her hand and led her up the stairs made her feel like she’s sixteen all over again, petty and wild and stupid.

Scarlet redresses herself with Yvie’s help, and when her hands linger on her waist just for a moment longer, she knows this, whatever she has going on with Yvie, is bound to hurt her.

***

“Doesn’t it bother you that your ex works in the same restaurant as you?” Scarlet blurts out, while she’s laying on Yvie’s sheets.

Yvie’s perched by the room’s window, wearing nothing but pajama bottoms, smoking. “Who, Crystal? No, she’s chill. We broke up a long time ago.”

“Like how long?”

“Uhm, I was still an art major, so…” She looks up to the ceiling. “Like, six, seven years ago?”

Scarlet sputters, turning to face her instead of looking at the ceiling cracks.

“What? Are you kidding me?”

“Nope. Why?”

Scarlet opens her mouth, then closes it again. Would it bother Yvie if she knew half the restaurant knows about whatever is going on between them? 

“Just curious. Do you think she might have unresolved feelings from that?”

Yvie scoffs. “I would hope not, isn’t she getting married in two months?” Scarlet nods, remembering the way Crystal reluctantly looked at her when handing her the wedding invitation a week ago. “Why are you asking, anyway?”

Scarlet thinks back to the night where Heidi warned her that Yvie just sleeps around, never looking for anything serious, some three months ago in July. Thinks of the burning ache in her heart when Yvie reminds her they’re just hooking up, the self-pity she wallows in every time she watches romcoms on Sundays and yearns to go on stupid museum and park dates with Yvie and getting to call her her girlfriend.

“Curiosity,” she says instead.

Yvie hums, acknowledging her answer and goes back to smoking. In the silence of the night, tangled in Yvie’s sheets, Scarlet wonders if Yvie thinks about them as much as she does. If she also yearns for something they’re not, or if she’s content enough with their arrangement, not sparing another thought towards her as soon as she’s out of the door.

The thought makes her feel like throwing up, so she silently gets up and starts rummaging for her clothes among the pile.

“What are you doing next Saturday?” Yvie asks out of the blue.

“Next Saturday?” Scarlet pretends to think about it, knowing damn well she has a hot date with her couch and a new K-Drama she got hooked on. “Not much, why?”

“My mom invited me for brunch. I love her, but I don’t think I can stand her for hours alone, my sister moved across the country and—”

“What are you asking me, exactly? To go to brunch with you and your mom?”

“Well, yeah.”

Scarlet pauses, at a loss for words. There’s many things she wants to say, like, does she know who I am? Who am I to her? A daughter-in-law, friend of her daughter? What am I to you that you’re asking me this?

But Scarlet’s dignity flew out the window some months ago, so she simply nods and says, “Sure, text me the time and place.”

***

Scarlet thinks, honest to god, that the whole brunch ordeal was a fever dream.

She expected to meet some sort of wasp-y woman, uptight and slightly homophobic by the way Yvie spoke about her mother. She met, instead, a normal, fun, laid back woman in her sixties with nothing out of the usual about her. Yvie’s mom was just a normal suburban housewife who loves her daughter very much and tries to keep an open mind with what she’s doing with her life.

And she loved Scarlet, too. For some reason, Yvie’s mom found her so fascinating, she wouldn’t stop asking her questions about her, her life, what she’s studying in uni and her two moms back home in Kansas. She ordered mimosa after mimosa for the pair of them, at times forgetting her own daughter was sitting just across her.

It was so lovely, and so, so painful.

Scarlet is obviously girlfriend material; they get along well, Yvie’s mother likes her, and the sex is great. There’s no reason for Yvie to cave in and ask her to forget about the “casual” bullshit, because they both know there’s nothing casual about going on late night car rides, with Yvie’s index tracing the letters m-i-n-e on her thigh, talking about their hopes and dreams for the future, letting Scarlet babble excitedly about her independent research projects for school, pretending she doesn’t notice when Yvie sketches her in one of the many sketchbooks she has laying around, in sneaking to the back alley to make out during dead shifts, in spending days off together somewhere far away from the city.

She doesn’t know what else has to happen for Yvie to change her mind and just ask her to be official, be serious about where they’re going together.

So, the next logical reason why Yvie doesn’t want anything serious, is that she doesn’t like her like that, doesn’t want to commit to her and have the quiet, domestic Sundays and brunch with the in-laws with her. It hurts more than it should.

“Take me home,” Scarlet says when they’re in the car, drunk on mimosas and feverish with yearning.

“Wanna make a stop at my place?” Yvie suggests, squeezing her knee.

Scarlet inhales sharply, willing herself to be strong and not let herself falter.

“No, I think I shouldn’t.”

“You sure?” They come to a stop at a red light and they lock eyes. Yvie has her brows slightly furrowed, trying to gauge what’s wrong, and Scarlet feels like a wild thing, trying to decipher how does she do it, how does she keep her cool so well when Scarlet is melting against the carseat, the blood boiling in her veins with longing and fighting every atom in her body to stay strong on her no.

“Hundred percent,” she says through gritted teeth, peeling her gaze away.

“Hm. Whatever you want, princess.”

Scarlet barely keeps it together. It’s so cruel to call her that right now, when she’s trying and failing to make her escape before her longing kills her.

Yvie drops her off at her apartment complex, and once Scarlet slams the car door shut, she decides that fuck it, she's going to use her vacation days for once and go back to Kansas to regain some semblance of control over her life. Her friends can lend her class notes later, when she doesn’t feel like a soulless puppet at Yvie’s beck and call.

She dials Jackie not ten minutes after and books the flight tickets in less than an hour.

***

[yves !!] hey is everything ok? 

[yves !!] can i come over to talk? 

[yves !!] fuck please. talk to me

[yves !!] starlet

***

Scarlet hasn’t talked to Yvie in two days, and she’s never used drugs to know what withdrawals feel like, but she supposes this must be akin to that. She feels every cell in her body yearning to reach out, to go right back to her sheets and learn to be satisfied with it as long as she’s with her. But she has to have some dignity, so she asks her moms to take her phone from her while she’s desperately sobbing to prevent herself from reaching out to Yvie.

She feels like the pinnacle of stupidity, getting herself so hurt over a fling that she sought out, that she plotted to make it happen. Now, she’s truly sixteen all over again, locked up in her childhood room crying over a girl that hurt her precious princess feelings when things blew up in her face.

Her moms don’t tell her to get over it, you’re twenty-five already, but instead offer her many, many chocolate chip cookies and silent cuddling sessions where the only thing she does is cry with her gaze lost in the distance.

By the fourth day she feels good enough to come out of her room and go to the supermarket with her moms, but she has to go back to the car in the middle of it because she saw a pair of women that looked like her and Yvie pushing a baby-stroller in the frozen foods section, then proceeded to bawl her eyes out.

When she inevitably has to go back to New York, her moms promise they’ll come visit her in a few weeks to check on her, and send her on her way with a tupperware full of chocolate cookies and some semblance of autonomy back in her mind.

***

AUGUST.

“You’re so weird,” Scarlet giggles, sitting across Yvie’s lap. “How did you even manage to get that many socks to make a floor length gown?”

Yvie shrugs, trying to play it cool. “Many thrift stores and a stubborn head,” she says, making her laugh again, and she feels a sort of pride wash over her.

It’s been two months since they started sleeping around, and she knows it’s pathetic from her to keep giving in and inviting Scarlet over just because she wants to hang out with her using the excuse of having sex, but she’s too much of a coward to invite Scarlet on a proper date and get told no. It’s easier to pretend there’s no strings attached and this is just casual, lest she’ll scare her off.

Although Scarlet was the one that flirted with her back in June, if the way she acted around her at work afterwards was anything to go by, she didn’t want anything else to do with her, and yet, like a fool, Yvie sought her out again.

Yvie knows, is very aware, that despite being somewhat attractive, the oddness that makes her stand out is also the reason why the women she likes never like her back. And that’s just personality wise; on the odd chance they like her back, her disability is enough of a reason to scare them away. It was easier to just sleep around, dating casually and not giving much of herself away.

Then Scarlet came in, very blatantly interested in her, and once she was a hundred perfect sure she wasn’t just another flirt bored during work hours—thanks to Kameron, who assured her Scarlet had never ever tried to hit on her, at all—she decided that, fuck it, why not?

But then Scarlet became like an intoxicating presence in her life, pulling her in and leaving her wanting more, making her dream of dates that didn’t start with having sex or them being too tired after a shift to do much else than go for take out, and Yvie couldn’t do much else aside from trying to hide how much she wanted—wants—her in more than a sexual way.

Now she’s stuck in this loop where she’s the one that keeps reaching out to her, against her better mind. Why Scarlet came back time and time again, Yvie’s not sure. She supposes the sex is good enough to make her want to keep her around.

Scarlet bids her goodbye after a while, giving her a last kiss before she hops on her Uber, and Yvie is left feeling like a pathetic coward, who dreams of being courageous enough to ask the woman she sleeps with to be her girlfriend.

One day she’ll do it, she just hopes it’s not too late by then and Scarlet has lost interest.

[luckyduck0]

🜸ultra comet fire🜸

“So, you mean to tell me that in the span of one hour,” A voice says, holding up their pointer finger. “You served a guy named Nyxx, coffee, and then got saved by him from a giant mutant lizard-scorpion-whatever, and then he took you to the hospital?”

Nodding, Xen stared sheepishly at the person in front of her. “Yup, that about sums it up.”

The person in question was Xen’s friend, Sandy, who was treating her to a fast-food dinner after hearing about her hospital visit.

“Jeez, how’s that work? Did he just leave ya there?” Sandy asks, stuffing a fry into her mouth.

“No, no!” Xen denies, shaking her head. “He stayed until the doctor said I was good to go. Then he actually…drove me home?”

“What?!” Sandy exclaimed, slapping her hands on the table. “You let some random guy drive you to your house?!”

“He’s not random! And he was just doing it cause he was nice!”

Sitting back down barely containing herself, Sandy breathed deeply. Now, Xen was going to get an earful, as well as a long parental lecture about boys.

“Alright, alright. So, he saved you?”

Arching a brow, Xen answers hesitantly. “Yes?”

“And you sensed no ulterior motives?” Sandy questioned, looking Xen in the eyes.

“Of course not.” Xen replied, stern.

She may have only know him for a short while, but Xen could tell Nyxx was different. A good different. He saved her, went of his to get her help and make sure she got home. He was mysterious and a little standoffish, but he still did so much for her.

“Then…I guess there’s really nothing to worry about.” Sandy said, slumping back against the booth seat. “Just, call me next time you get into danger, alright? This city’s got a shit ton of problems, I don’t need you getting kidnapped by a league of evil-doers as one of them, got it?”

Sighing with relief, Xen nodded happily. “Will do, San! Anyway, wanna go see a movie? There’s this new one that just came out, it’s about like, aliens or something!”

“Yeah, sure.” Sandy agreed, pushing up from the table with Xen.

—

(Fifteen minutes earlier)

Smoke fills the air as a fire raged inside a burning building. Police and firefighters had rushed to the scene, conveniently not noticing a tall figure jump out of a third-story window.

“Didn’t I tell you not to make a mess this time”

Ada’s voice pierced through the comm, making Nyxx wince from the sound.

“It was tougher than expected.” He replied, landing on the sidewalk and easing through the crowds.

“Clearly! You knocked down a building, Nyxx!” Ada yelled.

“I didn’t knock it down,” Nyxx stated, turning into an alley. “That stupid Flame Ghoul was stronger than I realized. A lot stronger than Intel told us. Not my fault he’s a lousy informant.”

With ease, he climbed up an apartment buildings’ fire escape and landed on a roof.

Ada groaned and Nyxx could practically hear the pinching of her nose. “Listen, we just got another report that says those damn Imps are out and about again, so get to these coordinates and I’ll meet you there. We’ll talk about your…screw-up with the Sergeant later.”

“Whatever.” Nyxx replied, cutting the comm off.

He glanced at his wrist, where a fancy, high-tech looking watch set. A hologram appeared as he jumped from roof to roof, coordinates showing what looked to be a location not far from where he was.

Great, he thought, now I’ll get a lecture in person too.

Ada was sort of his superior, in a way. She was a third year at EDEN and had lots of experience under her belt. She was the one recruited him in the first place, actually.

However, that didn’t make her mom-ing any less annoying.

—

Xen hadn’t thought about that night very much. In fact, she’d barely thought about it at all! She had much more important things to worry about…

…is what she would have said, if her near-death experience plus also getting save by a really hot guy hadn’t totally turned her brain into mush.

When he brought her to hospital, he insisted he could pay for any expenses. She wanted to object, but she was also a poor, fresh-out-of-college graduate and had eight dollars to her name. Then after that, he insisted to take her home himself, as she could still possibly be in danger.

“I’ll get ya home, least I can do after all this. Oh, and…hold on..” He mumbled, pulling out a piece of paper and writing on it. “Here ya go, it’s my number. In case anything happens, call me. I’m not sure how that monster behaves yet, so it’s possible it might come after ya, so keep it handy.”

Did she keep the note and memorize it and reread it a million times? Maybe.

But she also didn’t have a phone, as she lost it on the train. She was mainly hoping nothing bad would happen, cause she definitely did not have a device to call him on. At the same time, though, she really wanted to see him again.

And who could blame her?

Nyxx was kind and strong, and very, very attracted. And you don’t get saved by those kinds of people everyday.

“Uh, hello, Earth to Xeeeennn?” Sandy said, snapping her fingers in the other’s face.

Flinching, Xen flashed back to the present and turned to Sandy, who looked a bit put-off.

“Oh, sorry, what were you saying? Is the movie starting?”

“Uh, no, it just ended.” Sandy furrowed her eyebrows. “Jeez, you can be such an airhead sometimes. Were you sleeping with your eyes open or somethin’?”

Noticing everyone else is in the theatre leaving, Xen felt a little embarrassed. Could she really be that distracted by Nyxx?

“Ugh, whatever. Let’s just go, I already see the cleaners rollin’ in. Come on.” Sandy took Xen’s hand, leading her to the doors.

They threw away the trash and walked into the lobby. Sandy waved to one of her friends working at the counter, then stretched and yawned.

“That movie was pretty good, all things considered. Hey, wanna come over tonight? We could paint our nails and talk about our crushes!” Sandy said, posing dramatically.

Xen laughed, covering her mouth. “I’d love to, but I’ve got the opening shift tomorrow. Maybe next time.”

“Ughhhhh, why do you work so much? Try living a little, Xen. Maybe going to a few parties might loosen you up.” Sandy poked at her, smirking.

“I’m perfectly fine the way I am. Besides, the whole life of the party slash laidback misfit is way more your style.” Xen stated, nudging the taller girl.

Sandy chuckled, stuffing her hands into her pockets. “Yeah, guess you’re right. No one can compare to my utter brilliance.”

Xen just laughed, pushing past the front doors and into the parking lot.

Approaching Sandy’s beat up, Scooby-Doo-style van, the girl’s are stopped by a scream.

“Look at that! In the sky!”

“What the hell?”

“Run!”

“Holy shit!”

Both Xen and Sandy turned to the commotion, noticing a large green object heading straight toward them.

Launching many expletives out of her mouth, Sandy ran to the van, hopping in and starting the engine.

“Oh crap, we gotta go! Gotta go gotta go gotta— Xen? Xen?! What the hell are you doing?! Hurry up!” Sandy commanded, shouting from her place in the driver’s seat.

But Xen was frozen, staring up at, whatever it was. She couldn’t move. This wasn’t like the fear she got from the lizard-mutant, no, this was way different. Not even her fight or flight response was kicking in. She was utterly helpless, and there was a sick feeling that she wouldn’t be saved this time.

Xen probably wouldn’t have even had enough time to call Nyxx, let alone find some way to communicate with him.

Another shout from Sandy came from the van, but Xen didn’t hear it. A weird static was filling her head, like the buzzing when a TV stops working right. It was all she could do to keep staring, to keep calm, to accept it.

Before she can think, however, Xen is yanked away before the green thing hits the ground.

—

(All the way on the other side of the city)

Nyxx strolled alongside as Ada led him through a warehouse. He, unfortunately, had to listen to another one of his upperclassmen’s tirades.

“Oh, and don’t even get me started on your lack of discipline! You think because your so strong that you can just run around all half-cocked and then get sympathy when you fail! Like, obviously! Did you not see him prioritize getting soda over killing the damn Leech Ghouls?!” Ada complained, stomping down the poorly-lit hallway. “What’s even worse, literally nobody calls you out on it! Not even Red or Stein! And Stein is the nit-pick of the century!”

Nyxx just rolled his eyes, leaning his head back to look at the ceiling. The only reason they were in this place was because they got a report of the Imp Ghouls running around terrorizing the place. Pain and Panic, loyal servants to that damned Devil.

“Ya know, I think you’re over-thinking this. I’m pretty sure the reason nobody gets on my ass about stuff is cause I make the right calls. Ya told me to save people, Ada.” Nyxx said, pointedly looking at the woman.

“Ugh, I know what I said, but that doesn’t mean you can just abandon missions. That Scorpious mutant is still out there, probably running around in the sewers. And I’m the one that gets blamed for it, remember? Cause everyone thinks you’re my protege. Bullshit..”

Nyxx only shrugged, all he had to do was bring down Ghouls and bring their souls to be exorcised or judged. It wasn’t his place to decide their fate, all he had to do was capture them.

Sure, maybe he wasn’t doing too good a job of that recently, but people still understood why.

He just wished Ada could as well.

For all her hot-headedness, Ada was very smart and talented. She was one of the top students at EDEN, and her combat skills were incredible. She claimed she could do anything, and so far, she made good on that claim. Out of most people at the academy, Ada was definitely one of his favorites.

Except for her nagging. That was one quality he could live without.

“Ada! Ada, do you read me?” A voice from her watch questioned, urgently.

“Intel? Yes, what’s up?” Ada stopped, putting a hand on her hip.

“Listen, I need both you and Nyxx to go to downtown, quick. Something big just exploded in a theatre parking lot and we’re not entirely sure what it is. We need you to get a read on the situation, hurry.”

“Shit, okay, I got it. We’re on our way.” Ada closed the call and swiftly turned around. “Nyxx, let’s go.”

Nyxx only nodded, breaking out into a run to follow her.

—

When Xen came to, her ears were ringing. Everything around her was a dizzying haze. All she could see what a greenish smoke, and what looked to be rubble on the ground. Something warm drips down her face and before Xen can register it, she’s being dragged across the ground.

“Dammit, Xen! Wake up! We need to go!” A distant voice yells, one she slowly recognizes as Sandy.

“S-Sandy?” She coughed, pain wracking throughout her body.

What happened? The last thing she remembered was leaving the theatre.

“Oh my god, holy shit, are you okay?” Sandy stopped, kneeling down to hold Xen steady.

“I—” Another cough, this one feeling worse than the last. “I don’t know.”

Sandy was in utter distress at this point, looking around wildly, shouting for help. But Xen couldn’t concentrate, there was this buzzing under her skin. Her head felt like it was on fire and being beaten like a drum at the same time.

Suddenly, flashes of memories fly into her mind. They aren’t her memories, though, she’s awake enough to know that. There was a picture of a desert, then a stark-white room with medical supplies everywhere, and then fire. Green fire, all around, everywhere. It consumed everything it touched, including people who looked like doctors or scientists. A sharp pain enters her head, along with what sounded like high-pitched screaming.

“Gah!” Xen shrieked, squeezing her hands over her ears.

“What? What’s wrong?” Sandy panicked.

Xen couldn’t answer. The burning feeling was worse, it felt like it was through her entire body now. The screaming only became louder as her muscles seemed to ignite more and more. Almost to the point of an exploding sensation.

She doesn’t know when it happened, but quickly, her entire body became enveloped in flames. Green fire, just like the memories. Just like the thing in the sky.

Her screams were agonizing now, and they mixed well with the ones in her mind.

Xen knew Sandy was freaking out, but she couldn’t stop it. Her entire being was in complete pain overdrive.

She can’t tell when it stops, when the screams go silent and the fire goes out. What she can tell is, is a cold darkness covering her. Whispers of something she can’t quite grasp, until she’s completely enthralled in darkness.

—

On the outside, there was Nyxx and Ada. Nyxx was cocooning Xen inside of shadows, seemingly stopping the flames. Hopefully.

“Is she alright?” Ada asked, standing above the scene with a grimace.

“I don’t know, it looked really bad.” Nyxx replied, his tone uncertain.

He hadn’t expected to see Xen again, especially not under such horrible circumstances. It had only been a week since her last brush of death, and he was certain she was out of residual danger.

Nyxx would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about her. His mind had wandered to the girl a few times, wondering if she was alright. He’d ordered one of the EDEN cadets to keep an eye on her, in case that mutant came looking for her before he could find it. The whole reason he even gave her his number was so he could help her out if need be, so why hadn’t she called?

Was he too late?

Had he failed to save someone again? Someone counting on him?

Nyxx hated that feeling, it scared him.

“Is she gonna be okay?” A girl asked, rubbing her nose as tears ran down her face.

She must be a friend of hers, Nyxx noted in his head.

“I’ll do everything I can to help her, I swear.” Nyxx assured.

He wanted to say everything would be alright, but he couldn’t say that. Empty promises were much worse than harsh truths. All he could do now was try his best to save Xen.

Nyxx didn’t get very far, though, because something exploded out of the crater in the middle of the parking lot.

Both he and Ada quickly turned, standing to attention at…whatever the hell was crawling out of that thing. They looked like a bunch oozy slime balls, but he could see their exoskeletons, which were clearly made of metal.

“Now what in the hell…” Ada faltered, gagging at the way they moved. “They look like worms, but worse!”

Nyxx glared at the scene. The weird neon-colored worms kept coming out of the iron rock thing that blasted into the concrete. And they were also, forming? Into each other. Honestly, Nyxx just wanted to wipe them from the Earth immediately.

Summoning shadows, he turned them into spikes and shot them like arrows at the slime worms. They just consumed them, though.

“Well, fuck.” He swore, running out of ideas.

“Great, now I can put, defeating a giant slime monster on my list of accomplishments to hold over your head.” Ada cackled, unlocking her bo-staff and running at the things with swiftness.

Her efforts are in futile though, every hit just slides through the worms. Nyxx, whose great at multitasking, tries to figure out both what it is and how it can die.

“Okay, seriously, can we please get out of here?!” The other girl pleaded, yanking her hair in frustration.

“I need to help Ada, but how. I can’t just leave Xen…” Nyxx mutters to himself.

Ada continues her struggle with the slime monster, occasionally throwing rocks and car pieces at it.

“God! Why isn’t anything working?!” She shouts, grinding her teeth.

Nyxx doesn’t get a chance to do anything though, because the slime monster finishes forming. A loud roar emanates from its mouth, and now it looks more like a four-legged snake with multiple heads.

“Fucking fantastic.” Nyxx rolls his eyes.

“Shit, what should we do?!” The girl asks, causing Nyxx to turn back to her.

“You shouldn’t do anything, just get out of here. I’ll take care of Xen.”

“What?! No! I’m not— wait, how’d you know her name was Xen…?” The girl asked, looking at him with suspicion. “Wait a second. Tall, white hair, white coat, and an attitude…holy shit! You’re him!”

Nyxx stares, puzzled. What……?

His confusion is short lived, as a loud blast comes from the other direction. Ada, having jumped out of the way, barely missed being crushed by a slimey hand. It retracted back into the mass of ooze, which totally wasn’t gonna haunt Nyxx’s dreams or anything, and slowly came toward them.

Ada sprints back to him, barely needing to catch her breath. “Okay, okay, Nyxx, call backup. I have no idea how to kill this thing and it doesn’t seem like a typical Ghoul.”

Screeching from the monster interrupted him, though, as his attention is drawn yet again to the monster. Knives stick out of its green slime skin, but they don’t fall away, and seem to be extracting some kind of poison into it.

But just from the make of the knives, Nyxx knew exactly who it was.

Turning around, he was greeted by the sight of Red. In full EDEN uniform attire, he stood on the top of car, holding a spectacularly sharp knife.

“Red?!” Ada exclaimed.

“Intel told me you two might need some help, so here I am.” He spoke, his voice flat and monotone as usual.

“Hey, Red.” Nyxx nodded at him. “I assume you’ve got a plan?”

“The makings of one, why?” Red questioned, walking toward the group.

“Cause I need to get her to Tsubaki and the other girls at the school so they can heal her.” Nyxx stated, looking from Red to Xen, who was still wrapped in shadows.

“Right. Well, hurry it up. Ada and I can handle things here.” Red dismisses, walking past and gesturing Ada to follow. “Do be quick about it though, I can almost smell all the blood she’s lost.”

Nyxx winced, but hurried to pick Xen up and find the quickest way out.

“We’re taking her to a hospital, right?” Xen’s friend implored.

“Something like that, but we need a ride.”

“Ah. I have a van.” She states, pointing to a an almost replica of that one van from the ghost cartoon.

“Great, let’s go.” He rushes over, using a shadow to tank the back doors open.

The other girl jumps into the front seat, starting the van and pulling speeding out quickly.

Nyxx looks down, unveiling some of his shadows to see the girl. She was trembling, and her face was scrunched up in discomfort. Vein-like lines trailed from her eyes to her neck, like an infection. Nyxx didn’t know much about human diseases, but green stuff on the face really shouldn’t be there.

His arms instinctually tighten around the girl, a feeling of both anger and worry settling over him.

“Don’t worry, Xen. You’ll be alright, I’ll make sure of it.”

—

ANOTHA ONE FOR MY GIRL @3xen ENJOY LOVELY

[sillyflipping]

DXM 180mg hbr + weed trip report

8:10 PM: packed a bowl and smoked it. around this time, also hit the pen a few times, and a couple hits of nic vape

10:30 PM: Took 180mg DXM hbr in the form of 12 gelcaps, 15mg each. They were a generic store pharmacy brand of gelcaps, but I made sure to get the kind that contained only dxm and no other active ingredients. If you’re going to do dxm, don’t do it if there’s acetamenophin or guafinesin in whatever you’re taking because it can actually kill you, and it is not pleasant to OD on acetamenophin. Before taking the dxm I took one pill of otc dramamine to combat any nausea. The amount I took should get me to a high first plat, *maybe* a low second plat, or at least so says the dosage calculators. I’ve not done much Hbr in my past, I usually used to do freebase pills and occasionally poli (Delysm). I hadn’t done dxm in over a year now, I know it caused me a bunch of problems in my past, but for some reason lately this past week I’d just been craving it for some reason. Honestly in the past few days I’d just been fiending to get fucked up. And now, I’ve finally done it, i’ve taken my first-second plat dose and I’m waiting for it to kick in. I will try and update every hour. Also note I’ve never combined dxm and weed before, so will see if it’s any different. Also If I end up falling asleep will continue to update in the morning or whenever I wake up.

11:30 PM: Don’t notice any signifigant effects. Bit of a headache. Am lying in bed was watching some youtube videos.

12:00 AM head pounding a bit but it’s not intese pain. Just kind of a headache a bit dizzy/disoreinted bit spinny rooms spinny

12:40 AM head hurts, dizzy. This isn’t like the previous times i’ve done dxm, it’s not kickin in as hard, though to be fair I used to do freebase at higher doses and at that time I was also on abilify and lithium. Gonna try and lie down close my eyes cuz my head hurts

3am: wakw up tripping can barely type tbis. CEV’s and body heavy, dizzy visual snow room spinning. mild nausea. Feel like am on low second plat Obviously no ones awake cuz its 3am and idk

3:22 AM: I realize i mustve slept thru the peak of the trip as it’s 3am. I don’t mnow if i ever slept or if ive just been laying here in my own head my thoughts are blunted and despite the dozziness nausea and weird statitc snow visuals, it’s working to makw me not fee emotions. still tripping. hard to type

I cant belive i used to be such a dexhead that id go places like id go grocery shopping w frens back in college while off the dxm. Cant belsiwv it. This shit sucks theres way better drugs oit there this aint it

Dont really feel that cold but am shaking shivering

4am: texted a friend who was up at this hour, probably not about anytning super important. im still in the dextroverse but i think maybe im slowly comin down. There’s still visual snow and a jelly-like state about the air and atmosphere around me. I took like a 2nd plat dose and I’ll edit this trip report for more coherency and grammar once am sober

Dxm is bad trips not mentally. Mentally its pretty good but the body high is awful. Dizy and nausea spinning

4:23am: read some online calvin and hobbes comics. i never read those as a kid before but i feel like i can really understand them better somehow while trippin

4:43am: The comedown is the best part, honestly.

5AM: Still tripping, coming down. Compared to the overwhelming love and joy of a (good) mushroom trip, and compared to the depression and lonelieness i feel in my daily life, this is kinda true neutral. i feel nothing, numb. slighly optimistic tho. dont feel depressed atm. dont feel happy either.

5:40 AM: slowwwlllyyyyyy coming down. i try eating a couple spicy chips (carolina realer cheeto) to see if i can still taste, as sense of taste is often greatly diminished on dxm. The cheetos taste bland, and i feel the heat of the spice but no flavor. Sad.

6AM: less dizzy. head hurts less but still barely hurts a little bit just mildly annoying. The room stopped spinning. Am chillin on the couch, no one else awake yet

7AM: don’t think i’m still tripping, i feel a bit faded but it might be the afterglow or just general me being zooted. The sun is rising

1PM : pupils finally went back to normal size

Thoughts: Dxm fucking sucks. I felt a weird emotion that felt like how a chemical smells. Weird and numb and unable to feel anything. Awful body load. Why would you ever do dxm if you can do anything else. Nostalgia is a liar