#Cobb: be back in time for the kick.

[fiiiiin]

whenever I read the screenplay I notice how easily dry this dialogue could’ve been in regards to the character dynamics. Yes there already is implied history written into the script but the wistful drawl with which Tom Hardy says “Arthur?” Gratuitously life-changing. TH and JGL SOLD that ship with their suggestive performances. Don’t even get me started on the ad-libbed “darling” and the hotel room PASIV scene.

[stargazer2709]

The Boogeyman & The Hangman | 1. After Hours

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I'm a Gotham man from birth. A man who lived under the wing of a Falcone for twenty years, even since I was just a young boy. Doing what I was good at made me who others think I am. Loving made me who I really am.

After the best part of my life, the job was just dealing with obstacles for the Family that I chose, or maybe they chose me. However, that didn't stop me from being kicked out, despite working there for almost half my life. Who doesn't love receiving nothing but pats on the back for their hard work?

The worst part about being unemployed is that you have nothing else to think about, and I can't deal with the absence of the woman who gave me hope at the lowest point in my life.

My former boss, Carmine Falcone, was killed a few days ago, and I can say that he has left a very big space to fill. Things have not been the same since he passed away, and with it the end of my service to the Family.

Anyway, today, November 23, I just finished one last pending matter, returning to my apartment tired, it being still very dark before dawn. Just when I think this early part of the day has been stressful enough, I get a phone call. No one but my good friend Oswald Cobb, calling at this hour, I'd be willing to bet he's screwed up somewhere and needs help or it's going to be a night of drinking.

“What's the matter, Oz?” I say as soon as I answer the call, and the phone is on my ear.

“Hey, what's up? Listen here, somethin' big just happened, and I'm gonna need a hand.” Yes, indeed, he screwed up. “Come on, I'm at the Iceberg Lounge, it'll be a quick matter.”

Oh God.

“Fine. I’ll be there.” As we finish talking, the call ends and I can only theorize what the hell mess Oz has gotten himself into this time to ask me for help.

Do I have another choice? Of course not, I don't. Since any Oz-related business involves a car, I have no need to use mine. I hail a cab outside my apartment and ask to be taken to the club. I pray that this little matter will not be so important and I can return home early.

Fast forward a few minutes and I'm here, at the Iceberg Lounge, closed for obvious reasons, after the blood of Gotham's most dangerous bastard was spilled literally right at that entrance. Getting out of the cab, my most reasonable option to find Oz would be in the back, and I was right. I can see the beautiful Maserati parked, but no sign of good old Oz.

I'm about to call him, when I'm surprised by the sound of a door opening and there's the man. Apparently he doesn't come alone. He looks at me with a certain sparkle in his eyes. He seems pleased to see me.

“Hey, come here now, I need someone strong. This kid is a fuckin' spaghetti strand, he's not helpin' me at all.” He sounds exhausted, apparently carrying something. Or someone.

“'Kid'? What kid?” The moment I approach to help, just after Oz, a young man comes out of the place, with a worried and completely scared expression. I don't know which part of this strikes me as weirder, the part where Oz is removing a corpse from his own club or that he just adopted a stray.

I help load the bagged corpse with the help of Oz and the guy I barely know and together we get to the trunk of the Maserati to leave the place. Closing the trunk, I finally get a breather and head over to Oz to talk.

“I don't know if I want to know who this poor idiot is, and what he did to end up like this." I say this jokingly, and receive a brief awkward silence, which is then softened by that oh-so-sarcastic Oz tone.

“You're right, you don't want to.” He pats me on the shoulder and walks with his classic limp towards the boy. “Now, you wanted my car so badly, you can drive.” After that, he gives the car keys to the young man, to which he agrees and takes them. “Go on.”

It was all a long, uncomfortable car ride to specific points in the city that would eventually end at a junkyard where Oz would dispose of the body. I waited in the car for a couple of minutes for the two guys to finish the job, sitting in the back seats, in this case, like a child with two parents arguing while he looks out the window.

As we return, the boy is back behind the wheel and Oz is in the passenger seat. The whole atmosphere feels lighter and my good friend turns to look at me with a more carefree smile.

“Hey, man, the kid's stayin' with us, okay? This is, uh... Victor.” He returns to his seat and continues smiling at me through the rearview mirror.

“Nice to meet you, Victor.” Now I lean over to the front seats and pat the boy on the shoulder, trying to comfort him, because I could tell he had had a bitter experience just now.

“N-nice... Nice to meet you too, sir.” He answers me and seems less nervous than he was a few minutes ago.

Oz smiles as he assures us that we are all in the same boat, as this mess seems to have only just begun. An issue later got in the way, as Oz was in charge of the Falcone Family's Drop operation, and he had to keep an eye on it, especially in these tough days. It's not all good news when it's time to start the engine once again to head to the Falcone Mansion, as my good friend has been requested for a 'business meeting'.

Holy crap, it's even dawn already.

And so, our journey ends at the entrance of the mansion, parking there, planning our next steps carefully.

“Alright, listen, if we don't come out...” There is a slight pause in his words and in an instant he continues. “Nah, we'll be fine. You'll be fine. It's gonna be fine.” The boy at this point doesn't know whether to actually be scared or not. Maybe it's just Oz playing one of his practical jokes on matters like this. For God's sake. “I'm messing with you, kid! Alright, just sit tight, you know? Maybe look for your sense of humor. It's gotta be here somewhere.”

Oh man, this guy. Before he interacted with his door to leave, I stopped him by putting my hand on his shoulder having approached him.

“Hey, hey, what do you mean by 'we'? Do I really have to go in there?”

“I need you to be there. That way they'll know I have your back, you know? Come on, they're just weak pricks, they couldn't do anything to you if they wanted to. You just have to be there, dammit." Without even letting me respond, he opens the door and walks out, leaving me behind.

As always, I can't let good old Oz go in there without me.

“Easy, Vic. It's just in and out. Just stay here.” Just like Oz did, I'm just trying to make the boy feel safe even in these circumstances. I open my door too and follow Oz into the mansion.

The doors open into a small dining room where the guys behind this stupid business are waiting for us.

“Johnny. Milos.” My good friend greets them both, walking around the place until he sits down. The two men pay attention to him, and then notice the anomaly here. Me.

“What the hell is he doing here?” The man sitting at the end of the table asks, clearly not happy to see me here.

“Hey, calm down, Johnny, he's with me, okay? If we can finish this soon, go ahead.” Oz has my back even when I'm not welcome in this house, at least not now, not when I have no one else to owe loyalty to.

Viti and Milos prefer to leave the matter aside so as not to make it bigger than it is. It's just blah blah, business, and they will move the operations to Robbinsville. Oz tries to counter-argue with an alleged shipment that will arrive in the next few days. I admit this guy always has an ace up his sleeve.

At this, the two subjects in front divert their attention to the other side of the room, leaving everything in an awkward silence. What the hell are they looking at?

“Sofia, please, join us.” Now Milos motions with his hand for the person they were looking at to come closer. But hearing 'Sofia', just that, makes my heart, without exaggeration, want to jump straight out of my chest.

Damn. Is it really her? It's been ten long years. Maybe I've gone mad and this is a product of my fatigue and exhaustion from long days of work.

“Oh, I didn't mean to interrupt.” That melodious voice echoes in my head over and over again. I'm so afraid of turning around and discovering that voice is just in my imagination, or maybe I'm hallucinating.

The fact that Oz turns to look behind him gives me some hope. Maybe I'm not hallucinating it. Maybe... it is her.

“Oz, you remember Carmine’s daughter?”

“Yeah.”

Oh my God. Seriously, it's her. I immediately turn around and what a surprise, it's her, Sofia Falcone, finally and after ten years, without a window in between to separate us.

“Sofia. I thought you were still at, uh...”

“Arkham?”

“Yeah.”

“No. I've been rehabilitated.” That lovely, subtle, elegant voice, along with a smile are so far the best damn thing that has happened to me this crazy week.

Just seeing her, out in the open, without that striped suit, finally within my reach, makes me feel so many things right now. I could take her in my arms, hug her, kiss her, as if the day after this one didn't exist, but I can't take that risk. Not even for me. For her. I would love to be able to obey my feelings, my heart, but the show must go on.

“Miss Sofia, it's... A pleasure to have you back home.” And there it is, my best attempt at the proper, formal man the Falcones had hired long ago, the one who would never dare even look in the same direction as the princess of the family.

She looks at me, instantly deducing my false role as a bodyguard who is just doing his job, without any personal motives or love affairs involved. That smile on her face could mean many things. To those in the room except me, it might just seem like a polite response to my greeting. But for me, I think it's the best way she finds to reciprocate without pulling back the curtain of fiction.

“Yes, quite a pleasure, indeed.” She answers dryly, as if my presence doesn't keep her awake at night, as if I'm just someone else standing in the room like the rest of the guards at home. Without anything else to add, she looks back at the back of the room, now addressing Milos. “Have you asked him about my brother?”

“I thought we agreed-” The bearded man tries to reply but is interrupted by the beautiful and elegant newcomer.

“Have you heard from Alberto?” Now she asks Oz the questions, maybe he might have answers.

“Al?”

“He went out last night, he refused his bodyguards, and he never came home.” She remains sharp with her words, but I can bet that deep down she is dying of anguish to know the whereabouts of her brother.

“Sofia, that's enough.” Viti breaks the tense atmosphere, putting his word over hers.

“I-I better get out of here.” Feeling this atmosphere as much as everyone else, like water almost reaching the point of drowning him, Oz decides to leave before this gets worse. He walks to the exit, but not before saying goodbye. “And, uh... It's good to see you.” After this, he walks away, not even making sure I'm following behind him.

“Well, uh... I think... I should go too.” Personally, I also feel the tide rising over me until I almost drown and I decide to leave too before the bomb explodes. “Excuse me, gentlemen.” I nod my head to the two men, and then to the beautiful young lady. “Miss.”

I'm about to start walking out of the room when Sofia stops me in my tracks, mentioning my name, and having all my attention to herself, she speaks up. “Don’t go yet. We have a lot to talk about. I’ll wait for you at the end of the hall.”

At this point I have no idea how to react. Maybe this really is Sofia's new mood, or maybe it's her wonderful acting tool in front of the judging eyes of the Family. Whatever it is, it's Sofia, and I would do anything for her. I nod again and I can leave the room, still trying to come to terms with what has happened. The woman I once loved and still love is here, just when I thought I couldn't miss her anymore in life. Once upon a time this seemed like something far away from happening.

Only a few minutes pass when I see Sofia coming towards me. That white outfit of hers suits her incredibly well, and I've noticed that over time she looks even more beautiful than she did years ago. She stops right in front of me, looking up at me with her gaze that now seems more vulnerable than a moment ago, as if just passing through the door made her mood change.

With her so close, I can only think about the time we missed each other, and which I plan to make up for. Starting now.

Finally, after a long time, I can feel Sofia's body and the warmth of it close to me, having surrounded her tightly with my arms, bringing her closer to me. Every part of me shivers at the feeling of this kind of physical contact with her. Her hands touching my back in response to my hug causes something in my body that I haven't felt in years, and I'm not exaggerating. It feels like we haven't hugged like this in a lifetime. After all, I've waited a whole decade for this.

“I... I don't know what to say, honey, I... I missed you so much.” Along with my body shaking, my voice shakes being so close to her, and I can't find a better time to speak than now, hugging her body.

“I know, love, I know.” Her voice so close to my ear is just one of many reasons why my knees might give out and let me fall to the floor. She buries her face in my neck area, feeling her hot breath on my skin, which only makes me want more. “I'm finally here, just for you...”

We separate from each other's embrace and, standing face to face once again, the kiss we've been waiting for years is a reality. Every second Sofia's lips press against mine makes the seconds I spend missing her, wanting her, worth it. I just want to stay like this forever, enjoying this moment for longer than circumstances could offer me. A caress on my cheek gives me the reassurance I needed. My love is back, and she's not going anywhere from now on, and I wouldn't let her go again.

Sofia's slender fingers slide over my cheek after she pulls away from me once our kiss is over. I can still taste her on my lips, and though I could have a lot more of them another time, her presence is enough for me. A warm smile appears on her face and that's when she speaks again.

“Like I said before, honey, we have a lot to talk about, so I hope you're hungry. We'll go get lunch.” Damn, she's so straight-laced when she wants something. And I'm certainly in.

This day just gets better and better.

[brattylikestoeat]

Story time because why not I can’t sleep.

I got home around 3am yesterday Mister was at my door by 9am.

Who is Mister? Older man from my kink days. Back when I was heavy on the kink scene. We’ve flirted over the years, he was either in a relationship or I was so it never really aligned if that makes sense. He one of those background characters I kept in my phone just in case.

Mister is older (don’t ask, tad bit ashamed at the age) but he keeps himself up, very much body builder with silver hair, a few tattoos, tall and handsome.

He a very much all or nothing type guy. A Dom who takes bdsm way too seriously. I’m here to have fun and have amazing sex. So we kinda clash on that. The name isn’t bratty for no reason.

Our texting kicked up the week of my birthday. He texted me, we went out, did a little shopping, and had a nightcap. Just drinks, no sex and he sent me home.

The following Thursday (after the calls) he asked if I was busy and if not if I wanted to come over.

As much as I love my apartment I like going to others house more. He has a nice home in Cobb, and I can smoke there so hell yeah I’ll come.

To Mister sex doesn’t exist without kink. If he isn’t being dominate and getting his way he don’t want it. And tbh that’s hard for me because I haven’t done it in so long. But he walked me thru it, nice and slow.

I felt like he punished me for making him wait. I’m made him wait for access and he just didn’t like it. He def took it out on me that first night.

That was a week ago. Our second date was today. I invited him over because after the night I had, I knew I wasn’t leaving the house at all.

He gets here and he has a bag. He not spending the night, not even staying to lunch. He asked for a towel or sheet and he set everything in his bag on there. Rope, clamps, and a few other things.

“I’m going to make you want me.” He told me.

In my mind I’m like good luck. But tbh he kinda did that lol.

Mister worked me through 4 earth shattering orgasms. Two of them while I was tied up.

One of the things that surprised me, was he kept telling me to tell him I love him.

I love what you are doing to me. I love how you are making me feel. I love that you are giving me a few hours to take my mind off my situation. But love you? Lol hell nah.

But I told him, because that’s what he needed to hear. One of the reason these men are so hooked on me is because I become their dream. I tell them what they want to hear, I give them what they want.

2 hours later and we’re done. Just laying in my bed. But he gotta go, I got actual plans today that don’t involve him.

Mister cleaned himself and his items up while I laid in bed. I could get at least two hours of sleep if I tried but I knew I wouldn’t.

By the time he got himself together I could tell he was anxious.

There always this doubt they went to far, did to much, overstepped some boundaries.

But he looked at me and said, “I don’t wanna leave you.”

“Why not baby?” I ask. Mind you I’m still naked, looking up at him.

“You need me rn.”

I almost laughed in his face. I need sleep, I need something to eat, I need a blunt, I need to check on my cat.

He had served his purpose and he knew that. He hoping I don’t fade back into obscurity and ghost him.

But I won’t. For now Mister can stay. 

[the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf]

You're waiting for a train...(11)

Go to sleep, Miss Y/n

Robert Fischer x reader

description - Robert learns the truth of the plot to infiltrate his dreams...well...Cobb's version of the truth.

word count - 1.6k

warnings - betrayal, shitty fathers

a/n - I've realised the chapters are getting shorter and I think it's because when I'm writing I'm finding natural stopping points and I find I get more productive if I'm writing small chapters frequently than stressing about getting a large chapter finished.

Previous Chapter Series Master list Master list

If you want to be added to the taglist - here

We arrived on the fifth floor, exiting out of the elevator, Robert first with a gesture from Cobb in faux attentiveness. I lagged behind, the tremendous terror I felt in combination from my last encounter and whatever was about to befall us buzzed within me. Even as the two men entered before me, my stride was shyer than theirs. Every so often Robert would chance a peak behind him at my frame. So I was ready at a moment to right myself once again.

With only his back to look at, I still managed to discern the shudders that racked Robert’s body. As I saw one sliver down his spine, the same feeling was repeated on my own. As if our hearts were actually the same, being passed back and forth between the two.

Silhouettes appeared out from the end of the hallway and Robert stumbled at another presence, the memory of our previous encounter merely one picture away.

“They’re with me.” My dad assured with a hand on Robert’s back. Offering a comfort I had yet to know. “Go on.” With this confirmation Robert’s eyes darted around the room numbers in search of any sense of familiarity. His body moved faster than his mind could comprehend. His eyes ended up bearing the brunt, shooting back and forth to catch what his mind had missed the first time.  

Feeling dismissed in my current position I found my feet shuffling towards Arthur. I clasped his arm in mine, leaning into his body to inhale his scent. The embrace I’d shared with Robert had cured my aching heart but to truly be healed I needed the feel of something I’d known before. In Arthur’s arms I could feel safe, whilst being undoubtedly assured no harm could come. He raised his arms so he could meet my hand with his. He clasped them together and brought them back down, my two fitting in his one. He looked at me, and I willed myself to meet his eyes. I gave a gentle nod. No more words were required before he met my hairline and christened it in his kiss. Unfortunately, I was unable to convey the platonic nature of this interaction before I saw Robert’s head fall low upon witnessing the two of us. I so badly wanted to jump back out into his arms but my sense of duty to the team and to my own promise held me still. Upon pondering this I also failed to catch the steel glare that landed on my father and the fist clenched close to where my own were being comforted.

The door labelled 528 stood before us. Robert’s panic grew as the familiar numbers jumped out to him. His head flicked back and forth from the door to my father in a silent agreement of what they both knew. Cobb gestured for Robert to stand with Ariadne and I as him and Arthur brandished their guns. They kicked the door down in perfect choreography for the scene they were trying to convince. They were led in by their weapons and they scoured the room in search for imagined intruders. Arthur paced towards the bathroom in perfect timing to ‘discover’ the briefcase.

“Mr Charles,” He announced. I did wonder if Arthur was going to do a different voice, remembering fondly when he would try different accents to make the jobs more fun.

“Do you know what that is Mr Fischer?” Dad asked.

“Yeah I—I think so, yeah.” Robert stuttered out and I sensed how close he was as he had gravitated towards my frame. My pinkie extended in search of something to hold. It was rewarded as I felt his own curl around it.

“They were trying to put you under.” Dad hurriedly uttered out.

“But I’m already under.” Roberts confusion spread through his adrenaline, linking the two.

“Under again.”

“What do you mean, a dream within a dream?”

An intruding sound alerted the room and we became aware of the fact we were no longer alone. For Robert he feared the oncoming consequences. The rest prepared for the next arrival.

“Shh.”

Cobb was aimed at the door as Arthur approached from the side. The door was unlocked, and Browning entered with his own key card. Arthur swiftly grabbed his arm in order to subdue him into compliance.

“Uncle Peter?” Robert appeared desperate to go to his godfathers aid, but I held him back with a slight tug on his sleeve. He responded to my action and remained still.

“You said you were kidnapped together?” My father asked.

“Well not – exactly – they –they already had him.” Roberts stutter was starting to become more prominent in the high-pressure environment and I had to wonder whether this was something he had been prone to before. Returning when he is placed in an environment which strains his heart. “They were tor—torturing him.”

“You saw this happen?” He breathed heavily when the question of sincerity was placed on the table. His eyes flitted to his godfather and seemed to truly focus for the first time. His conclusions became fully formed in the slight slouch of his godfather.

“The kidnappers are working for you?” Robert managed to push out in a whisper of disbelief.

“Oh Robert.” Browning sighed out as if in shame of the boy before him. The situation may have been an allusion but in Robert’s fallen expression I sensed that a scene like the one before was not unusual in his memories.

“You’re trying to get the safe open?” Robert’s voice shook. “To get the alternate will?”

“Fischer Morrow has been my whole life.” Browning said. “I can’t let you destroy it.” I had never had more of an urge to punch a projection in my whole life. And Robert knew it through the hand he gently placed over my newly clenched fist.

“I’m not gonna throw away my inheritance!” Robert shouted. “Why would I?”

“I couldn’t let you rise to your father’s last taunt.”

“What taunt?”

“The will Robert. That will? That’s his last insult. A challenge for you to build something for yourself. By telling you you’re not worthy of his accomplishments.” Browning hit the final nail.

Robert faced away and brought his hands up as if he could wipe away all the unpleasant feelings which were being forced upon him. I followed where his body paced, hoping any semblance of my presence would make him hurt a little less. He returned incredulously asking Browning to continue.

“What, but that – that he was, um, disappointed?” His words were intertwined with self-effacing laughs.

“I’m sorry.” Browning had the decency to refuse to meet Robert’s eyes in light of what he was revealing. “But he’s wrong. You can build a better company than he ever did.”

“Mr Fischer? He’s lying.” My dad approached to whisper to Robert.

“How do you know?”

“Trust me, it’s what I do, he’s hiding something, and we need to find out what that is.” Eames stalked into the room with Saito tailing behind. His weak frame confirmed my worry that the temporary heal of the deeper dream was starting to peel off to awaken a new countdown to the end. “I need you to do the same thing to him, that he was going to do to you.”

Eames and Arthur both held Browning down to "prepare him" for the next level. Ariadne and I did the same thing but in preparation for the others.

“We’re going to go into his subconscious and find out what he doesn’t want you to know.” My father continued to explain.

“All right.” Robert agreed determinedly. He approached where Arthur had his IV prepared but he faltered and angled himself towards where I stood. I was busy arranging for Ariadne and failed to notice him until he tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around and was taken aback at his choice to converse with me. “Will you do it? For me?” He softly spoke and offered me the IV he had taken off Arthur. His eyes pierced down to capture just the two of us and they spoke to me to convey that I was the only one he could trust. I felt the burning glare of my father at the deviation from the scene. It had startled me as well but I was nothing if not an improviser.

“Of course.” I soothed, and gently clasped his bare arm in my hand to lightly insert the needle. I guided him to sit down on the bed. As the sedative seeped through my hand glided towards his neck. His weight fell onto it and I laid him down offering as much care as I could to ease him into this change. Once his head met the soft mattress, my fingers dragged back to the front. They lingered on his soft cheek and danced their way to his full pink lips. I was overcome seeing true peace line his features. But I was shot back to the situation at hand once Eames clapped my back in a warning.

“He’s out.” I announced.

“Wait whose subconscious are we going into exactly?” Ariadne questioned.

“We’re going into Fischer’s.” Cobb answered. “But I told him it was Brownings so he’d come be part of our team.”

“He’s gonna help us break into his own subconscious?” Arthur looked towards my father with doubt in his brow.

“That’s right.”

I laid down on the floor as Arthur kneeled over me, helping to prepare the IV.

“Security’s gonna run you hard.” I warned understanding the danger of leaving the dreamer at the whim of the projections and feeling genuine fear for Arthur up here on his own.

“Then I will lead them on a merry chase.” He teased as he smirked down at me knowing to reassure me in this moment, so my head would be clear of frivolous worries for his safety.

I giggled at his choice of words. “Just be back before the kick.” I relaxed my head back in wait of my slumber.

He lowered his voice to a soothing whisper. “Go to sleep, y/n.” he hushed.

LAYER THREE: THE SNOW

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Because y/n will have experienced stuff like the previous chapter before, it makes sense she would want to go to Arthur for comfort as it's her tried and tested way

Also like I said at the start, I know its a short chapter but I felt like it was a natural stopping point and it means I'm not trying to cram loads of plot at once.

taglist: @jonsncws @h-l-vlovesvintage @theethy @fashionki11a @felicity1994 @bearchermer @idkyoutellmesmh @mimimarvelingmarvel @butterfly-lies-chase-them-away @neotanpopper @deliriouslybi @folklorde24 @thefandomdiaries07 @viarosemcmissile @noirrose21-blog @thepoeticfirefly @xoxo-gothic-girl @skeletonwrite @jellyzelek @kaylamarie306-blog

[din-miller]

Dress For The Job

Pairing: Din Djarin x gn!reader

Word count: 1.6k

Summary: You're used as bait during a mission on Nevarro. Din isn't pleased with the situation 

Warnings: angst mixed with a good amount of fluff, gender neutral reader but reader wears a dress, married couple, hardcore flirting, badass reader, his first name is Din, canon-typical violence, implications to sexy times.

Nevarro's typically mellow near midday, more accustomed to the elderly citizens dawdling through the markets, reminiscing on their younger years as the wind blows a faint breeze and the local bakeries flood the marketplace with their fresh aromas.

According to Greef, pirates have been stealing from the marketplace, breaking into people's homes and ransacking them. There have been three reported deaths in the last two months. 

That's where you and Din come in. You've both been hired to track down any pirates and turn them in.

That was two weeks ago. When you and Din dropped off Grogu on Tatooine with Peli, you both promised to be back in a few days.

A few days, four at most. 

Not two weeks.

You're definitely paying a hefty interest rate when you do pick up the kid. It's a good thing Greef is willing to pay you handsomely.

You could tell the High Magistrate was getting antsy the longer the pirates roamed Navarro. Din wasn't much better. During the days he would be tracking every lead possible, during the nights you would hold him in your arms and tell him to breathe. 

You weren't much better, really. There's this frustration that's humming through your body. An anger that's boiling in your veins the longer you're away from Grogu. 

Last night was the hardest night you've had in a while. Din had finally given up on his newest dead end lead and crawled into bed with you. He pulled you against his chest, which fell and raised with each unsteady breath. He missed Grogu and the cracks in his voice as he spoke had you crying into his chest, his own tears falling into your hair.

Maybe that's why you had agreed to Greef's newest plan the next morning without a second thought.

Under the hot sun, warmth seeping into your black shirt, you're definitely starting to regret saying yes. Kicking a small stone you mumbled under your breath, "Standing around waiting to get kidnapped. Not exactly the highlight of my life."

Through your earpiece Din huffed, definitely still displeased with this plan, "Just stay focused, Greef said they should be here today."

"They better be, I'm not sweating through my good shirt for nothing." You sighed, armpits already feeling sticky, "I've never been used as bait before. Am I doing a good job?" 

Din doesn't answer. Which isn't a surprise. He's been ignoring you since you took Greef's side and stripped yourself bare of all weapons but one to stand in the middle of the marketplace to be discovered by a group of pirates who've already murdered three people.

Okay, putting it that way does make Din's reaction understandable. Greef had worded it better.

"Mando, it's going to be okay, I promise. Besides I'm armed and you're only a few blocks away if it goes south."

"I know, cyare, but that doesn't mean I have to be happy that my riduur decided to put themself in a dangerous position."

You want to point out that he did the same thing back on Tatooine cycles ago. Played bait for Cobb Vanth. You're not going to though, not when his breathing is heavy through the earpiece like it's taking everything in him to remember how to take in a steady breath. 

You quickly glance over to where he's hidden from view a few rooftops over. You sent him a look, one that reassures him that you'll take every safe precaution available.

You're not offended by the way your husband is acting like you can't handle yourself. You both know you can, you've done it dozens of times before. It's just his nature to worry; about you, about Grogu, about his friends.

You start to lazily stroll through the marketplace, keeping yourself in Din's line of sight as much as possible. 

You've kept the line open – Din doing the same on his end – and you do your best to minimise your lip movement when you speak, "I was thinking maybe after this we could relax on Sorgan for a couple weeks. That'll be nice, wouldn't it?"

"Focus."

You rolled your eyes at that, "We haven't been back there since our honeymoon, or at least our version of a honeymoon. Most couples don't normally fight off raiders during their romantic getaways." 

There's a soft chuckle from Din's end, "When have we ever fit into the category of normal?"

"I still have my wedding dress," You commented, enjoying the way his breath hitched at it, "It's been a few years but I'd imagine I could still fit into it."

"Cyare."

You grinned at his warning, you know he's recalling the moment he first saw you in the dress, "Like you haven't thought about it before. We share the same bed and you occasionally mumble in your sleep."

"I do not, i- it doesn't matter, please just focus–" There's a second of silence, then your name and a string of curse words fell from his lips, "They're here."

Your chest tightened. It doesn't matter how long you've been chasing down bounties, there's always a moment of fear that settles in your bones.

"Where?"

"South entrance. Three males, all human, all armed." 

Rocks crunch underneath your heel as you sharply turn to face south, "Three? Huh, I figured there would be more, I'm kind of disappointed."

"Considering it's just you down there only armed with a blade, three is too damn many."

For a second you wish you could pull him into your arms, tell him it's okay with delicate touches. You can't though, so you settled on a soft 'I love you' and tried to gain the attention of the three men.

"I'm not drawing their attention." You're getting frustrated. Eyeing the closest clothing booth, an idea sprung to life, "I need to stand out more."

Grabbing a dress to change into, you head into the small fresher. You'll pay for the dress later, right now you're on a time limit.

"What are you doing? I don't have eyes on you." Din's voice is octave higher, a clear sign that he is beginning to panic.

"I don't think I'm in much danger inside the fresher, honey."

The dress is a little complicated to put on, multiple straps that seemingly do nothing functional, but it's definitely flattering on you. It highlights curves you didn't even realise you have.  

"Yeah, because pirates are known for their decency." Din grunted, eyes scanning every little crook and nanny around the small fresher,  "What did you even get anyway?"

"You'll see." You smirked to yourself. You're well aware you're attractive, Din tells you often, normally followed by a little worshipping, sometimes sexual, sometimes not. 

The dress has a slit which makes the knife strapped to your thigh easier to grab if needed. Which you hope it isn't, you're not in the mood for things to get bloody.

With a quick glance in the mirror, chasing away any lumps in the dress' fabric, you swiftly exited the fresher. There's shocked sputtering coming from Din's side of the comm. Your heart fluttered happily, satisfied with his reaction. Probably more than you should be, but heck it's not every day you get to dress nicely. 

When Din spoke again you could tell it's through clenched teeth, "What. Are. You. Wearing?"

"Oh, this old thing? It's just something I found." You smirked, sending a wink his way before sobering up, "I have eyes on them. I'm going to get their attention and try to lead them down a back alley." 

Din sighed, shifting to allow his weapon to follow your pathway, "Please be careful. I'd rather not spend the night stitching you up."

You hummed and couldn't hold back one last teasing smirk, "Is there something else you'd rather be doing tonight?"

"Don't get stabbed and you'll find out."

You blushed, cheeks burning a pretty pink colour, "I'm holding you to that, babe."

Unfortunately for you, things did end up getting bloody. Fortunately for you, you didn't end up getting stabbed. 

You dropped the last guy just as Din came barreling down the alley. You have your boot pressed against the pirate's chest underneath you, not that it was necessary since he's unconscious, and your knife is sliding back into its holster with a flick of your wrist. 

You beam up at your husband, hand gesturing to the three unconscious men around you, "What do you think? Not bad huh?"

Din shook his head, voice almost urgent, "Are you hurt?"

"Not a drop of blood," You reassured him as you used the man underneath you to clean off the dirt on your boot before stepping back, "Might have some fancy bruises tomorrow morning but that's expected." 

With a sigh, Din started gathering the men up for Greef to come deal with, "I'll apply some Bacta when we get back to the ship. I want to be gone by nightfall, I'm afraid Peli might file for adoption papers if we're not back soon."

She wouldn't but the thought of it made you laugh, "Hey she can have split custody if that means we can take a trip to Sorgan." You bumped your hip against Din's as you pass him, "How about you wait here for Greef and I'll go return this dress."

A hand quickly wrapped around your waist stopping you from leaving and your face is suddenly inches from Din's. Your husband kept a hand around the back of your waist as the other slowly trailed up your spine. 

Your breath catches, pupils blown wide. Your both not normally one for public display of affection, but the way his helmet quickly fogs over at your warm breath has you not caring.

Finally his gloved hand reaches the top of your spine and your dress is yanked back, a quiet snapping sound hits your ears. You pulled back from his embrace with a frown.

Din brought his hand around and hanging from his thumb and index finger is a small cardboard rectangular object, "You can't return things without the tag."

You can't help but snort at his antics, "That's not how that works, babe." 

Din shrugged, "Maybe not, but we have roughly thirteen hours before we touch down on Tatooine and I want to see how pretty that dress is all spread out on our bed."

And fuck, you just saved their planet, at the very least they owe you a dress.

[thiswasinevitableid]

Together (Sternclay)

Another whumpcember prompt winner was Panic Attack. This is a continuation of this 1950s fill, but can be read as a stand alone

Authors note: This fill was supposed to be NSFW but took a very different turn than planned and it didn't fit with the tone. So, if you'd like to see part three with some fluff and smut, let me know.

The morning after the best night of his life, Joseph wakes up on the floor. 

That hasn’t happened to him since he bought the new bed, big enough so that he has to thrash a lot before he hits the floor. Lord only knows what buried memory sent him tumbling this time. He always wakes in too much of a panic to remember his dreams. 

“Joseph?”

He closes his eyes, breathes in steadily and slowly. It’s Barclay. Just Barclay. He came home with him last night after a Christmas party, he’s the first man Joseph’s ever slept with, he’s handsome and gentle and he cannot see Joseph on the hardwood, the ghosts of a nightmare making him kick and shout like a kidnapped child. 

“I’m okay, big guy” he stands, reaching for his robe, “I just caught my foot in the sheet and lost my balance.”

Soft footfalls, then Barclay is in the doorway, mug of coffee in either hand, “Here I thought you remembered last night and got all jelly-kneed. Know I did when I woke up.”

Joseph takes the offered mug, “I don’t come out of my dreams that easily. But now that you mention it…” he leans in and kisses Barclay once, sweetly, on the lips. The taller man sighs happily, gaze languid as he watches Joseph sip his coffee. 

“Would this be why you asked me last night how I take my coffee?”

“You caught me.” Barclay loops an arm around his waist, and Joseph is suddenly glad the curtains to the front are closed, “usually use that line before getting someone into the sack. But I do always wanna know. I…it’s important to me. To make it good for the other person. Makes them less likely to toss me out.”

He doesn’t bother to hide his distaste, “Some people don’t have the manners god gave a rock.”

“I mean I get it. Lots of guys aren’t on the level and need me to go before their wife gets home, and a lot of the ones who are lose interest as soon as they find out I did time.”

Joseph wants to turn and cup his face, promise him that he won’t lose interest, that the fruit trees in the yard will up and walk to Fresno before he sends Barclay away. Wants to pretend that there’s a world where it won’t be his own fault that his beautiful, fiery feeling between them fizzles out.

“Well” he sets his mug on the dresser, “you know I’m not married. And you’re the most fascinating man I’ve met in a long time. So, Mr. Cobb, unless you have somewhere urgent to be, I think you should come back to bed.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Joseph may want Barclay for a roommate, but Barclay is still in the “rehabilitation” program. That comes with a lot of rules and a tight leash. 

God, would he like Barclay on a leash? He thinks he would. 

Focus, Stern. There’s a job to do. 

He trusts his teaching assistant to guide the Intermediate Japanese class through their review session while he makes the drive from campus down into east Oakland. The administrative offices are next to the jail, and he’s mistaken twice for someone’s lawyer before Owens is able to see him. 

“Stern!” Owens shakes his hand, “Finally taking me up on the offer of joining the force?”

Not even if hell froze over.

“Not quite. I have a question about the Re-Entry Program; are members ever allowed to live outside of the halfway house?”

“In rare circumstances, like if they have family in the area who won’t lead them right back into crime. You asking because of Cobb? The missus said you two got on like a house on fire last weekend.”

“We did. Between you and me, I’ve been thinking about getting a housemate; the place is too big for me, and my job keeps me busy enough that meeting a nice girl to share it with won’t happen any time soon. The problem is, it’s in such a good location I don’t want to lose it by moving.” He lets his smile brighten, “Barclay and I get along, and it’s the same distance from the cafe you have him working at as the halfway house. You know I can handle myself, and I trust you to vet the program members to not be dangerous.”

Owens fiddles with his pencil, “How about this: I’m trying to convince the county to let us use a sponsor system for the program. You and Cobb could be a test case; he’s a nice guy, and between you and me I thought it was good he got a soft judge. All you’d have to do is give reports once and awhile, help become a productive part of society, all that.”

“I think we can manage.” He sits down so Owens can show him some paperwork, makes a note in his pocket calendar to swing by the cafe and talk to Barclay about it. Tries not to think about how Barclay has less to atone for than he does.

He gets to Bettys right before closing, nurses a paper cup of coffee outside while he waits for Barclay to finish up. 

As he goes to throw his cup away, he hears someone urgently call a name, and then something heavy hits him in the side. A narrow muzzle pushes into his face, covered in brown and  black fur. 

His limbs are going numb, he needs to run, he can’t, he’s not there, he’s in Oakland, he’s safe. 

“Joey! Joey get down!” A harried young woman hauls the German shepherd off him, “Sit. Oh thank goodness you remember that one. I am so, so sorry sir. She used to belong to my brother who she adored and when she saw you she just snapped the leash and ran.”

“It’s okay, just a scuff on my coat.” He looks down at the dog, fights a flinch as it barks once, happily, and wags its tail at his attention, “I’m sorry I’m not who you’re looking for.”

“If you ever figure out how to explain that to her, let me know.”

Joseph notices the ribbon pinned to her jacket. Someone she loved is M.I.A.

“I’m sorry.” He murmurs. 

She gives him a sad smile, “I envy her optimism.” Another final apology, then she wishes him Merry Christmas and leaves with Joey in tow. 

Joseph brushes the dirt from his coat, so used to burying his fear he barely feels it. She’s heavier than the last one that hit him, his face slamming the mud, the shouts behind him, knowing that if they get their hands on him he’s done for, no one will come for him, and lord help him he knows what they do to spies, he’s seen it-

“Joseph?” Barclay is behind him, angelic under the street lights, “you okay?

“Just a little lost in thought.” He remembers why he’s here, pushes the past away, and steps as close to Barclay he can without drawing attention, “let me take you to dinner? I have some amazing news.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Maybe it’s a good thing two men can’t tie the knot. Right now that’s the only reason Barclay hasn’t gotten down on one knee only  three weeks after meeting Joseph. 

It’s not the house, mercifully quiet and tidy due to their joint cleaning, or Joseph making sure they split dinner duty. It’s not the new room that’s technically his own even though he spends every night under soft sheets with Joseph.

It’s that when they talked about the “sponsorship,” Joseph offered a bulleted list of how they could phrase the agreement so that Barclay could leave if he needed to, could not be just tossed out on his ass if things went south between them. That the night before he moved in, Joseph sat down with him to make a grocery list to cover them both. That when Barclay holds him, he feels safer and more at home than he thought he ever could, and can feel Joseph’s shoulders shaking with some nightmare, and hopes with everything in him that this relationship simmering between them will soothe whatever part of his past keeps chasing him. 

Life isn’t a fairytale. God knows they both understand that. But doesn’t it deserve a chance to be? 

In place of a proposal, he’s keeping Joseph company on the drive down to Salinas to see his family. Christmas is a relatively new practice in the family; it overlaps with Hanukkah this year, but according to Joseph, there’s been pressure to make at least a passing effort at Christmas.

“A neighbor told my mother it seemed un-American to not observe such an important day.”

“What the fuck?”

Joseph jabs his baked potato, “It’s the same one who couldn’t understand why my family wasn’t carted off to internment because they don’t understand Korea isn’t Japan.”

Barclay suspects that if Mrs. Stern is anything like her son, the neighbor was instantly withered by disapproval. The last time he visited him on campus he saw him turn that stare on some older students harassing the janitor and felt vicarious shame the rest of the night. 

They turn from the highway, away from the coast and into the farmland. Fields whiz by, brown without the strawberries, spinach, and artichokes that will cover them in the spring and summer. The radio has been playing the same ten Christmas songs, and so Joseph lowers the volume and asks about the Christmas party that Barclay attended at the halfway house. 

He sighs, “It was okay. Hank liked the records I got him.”

(They’d gone to the store on Shattuck to find them, pressed up against each other in the small space as they looked through the shelves and crates, and Joseph had walked out with five for the house, half his picks and half Barclays, plus one they’d grabbed for at the same time).

Joseph casts a glance his way, “What happened?”

“A bunch of the guys got me a ‘special gift.’ Said it’d make me into a real housewife. Relatedly, if you know any women who need stockings, point them my way.”

Two fingers raise off the wheel, “First of all, the joke is on them for wasting money on something that isn’t funny. Second of all, if they think taking care of a home is embarrassing, I have three generations of women who will happily threaten them in no fewer than three languages for you.”

“Keep that in mind, babe.” He leans over, kissing Joseph on the cheek.

The conversation turns to the movies, and by the time they turn onto the main drag they’re deep in debate about what to see the next time they catch a matinee. 

A plane buzzes overhead. Barclay wonders who the fuck is flying right now; maybe a celebrity zipping up for a Christmas on the coast, or an overworked mailcarrier. 

Joseph tenses in the driver's seat as he pulls toward the parking spaces in front of the darkened Parks Grocery. 

“Joseph? Baby, what’sAH!” He yelps as the bumper bangs into the sidewalk. 

“Shit.” Joseph hisses, then his voice flattens, “I’m sorry, it’s nothing, I just had trouble seeing the curb. Is the car alright?” 

Barclay pokes his head out, peering between the headlights, “Might be a little dent, but that’s it.”

When he looks back, Joseph's face is the same as it was a few minutes ago, friendly and collected, “That’s a relief. Okay, I can take the presents if you take the food; they’ll hold up better to the onslaught.”

Joseph’s right; the instant the door opens, he’s being hugged by a woman with brown hair piled on top of her head, an older man slapping him on the back, and a girl who looks like she could be his daughter clinging to his legs. He hears something ripping and hopes it’s wrapping paper and not Joseph’s shirt. 

The memory of coming back to the Lodge after being gone, of arms around him welcoming him home, sticks under his ribs like a knife. 

“Alright, alright, let the poor man in.” A figure that can only be Mr. Stern appears, looking up at his son before hugging him, “what, you thought I wasn’t going to get in on the action?” 

“Good to see you too, Dad.” He passes off the presents to a tall, blonde man, “Dad, everyone, this is my friend Barclay.”

He waves, pie tray in his free hand, “Thank you for letting me come on such short notice.”

The older man in the glasses waves his hand, “Eh, what’s one more, she’s cooking like the entire Giants are coming for dinner.”

“And who is that because, huh?” The woman who must be Mrs.Stern jabs a wooden spoon his way, “you ate half the table at the Seder last year.”

“Doctor says I gotta keep my strength up. That makes sense, right Joseph?”

“He’s a nice boy, he’s not gonna argue with his mother.” The grey haired woman says dryly from her spot beside him. 

“Bubbe is right on the money.” Joseph takes the pie and carries it to the counter.

“I can help out if you need.” Barclay offers, but Mrs. Stern waves for him to sit down. 

Joseph introduces him to everyone, and Barclay begins to understand why both floors above the grocery are occupied. Of the two sets of grandparents, his great aunt and uncle, parents, and older sister Lily, only Lily lives elsewhere. She and her husband, Craig, brought themselves and his niece Sophie down from San Francisco for the day. 

At one point he looks around, unable to find Joseph, and sees him speaking quietly to his parents in Korean. His stomach twists, wondering if it’s about him, if Joseph feels forced to justify while a man with a rap sheet is sitting in their living room. 

Then Sophie is nearly in his lap, demanding to know what kind of pie he made, and he lets himself be drawn back into the conversation. 

A tap on his shoulder, and he looks up to find Mrs. Stern.

“Barclay, can you help me bring some things up from the store? I forgot to cart them up earlier and a few of the boxes are a little heavy for me on those stairs.”

“Sure thing.” He follows her out the door and down the side stairwell, the grocers cool and dark when they get inside. She shifts boxes around in one of the storage closets while Barclay scans the newspapers on the wall. 

(Joseph’s whole family took her name, he realizes. “Park” belonged to his father, hence the name in friendly red letters out front). 

“Joseph said you two are moving in together?”

“Yeah. I’m really excited.”

“You mentioned you were up on the coast for a while. Is your family up there?”

He nods and she continues, “well, I’m flattered you chose our ‘christmas’ dinner to come to instead.”

“It’s, it’s not like that, my, I-” He looks over at her leaning on the counter and realizes he’s stepped right where she wanted him to. 

“I…I got into some trouble. And when I got out, they only let me up to see my family and friends once. They told me they were afraid that if I was paroled there, I’d just take up old habits.”

“And would you?”

He thinks about the names on immigration documents, the pleas for safety,  Indrid forging signatures perfectly while Barclay and Dani worked out which routes were the safest to send them.

“In a heartbeat.”

The steel in her posture softens, “You’re honest. That’s a good thing in a man.” She places a box onto the counter, “Joseph told Lawrence and I the truth. Don’t be angry with him for that, he comes by his inquisitive streak honestly from both of us and knew to head off our questions so we wouldn’t embarrass you by mistake asking them at the table.”

“I kinda had a hunch he had.”

She steps closer, “Can you promise me something? Keep an eye on him these next few weeks. This time of year is hard for him. He’s never said why, I assume it has to do with what happened over there. He hides it well, I’m not sure even Lawrence notices. But a mother always knows.”

Barclay feels strange relief, knowing someone else has spotted the brittle edge to Joseph's smile that's been worrying him the last few days,

“I’ll do my best.”

She reaches up and pats his cheek, “Thank you. Now, let's get these boxes upstairs. Careful not to drop that one, it’s mostly applesauce.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

He’d been doing so well. He made it through the drive down when the plane buzzed overhead and he was back in Dresden. Through the moment at the table when Sophie had if Barclay had been in the war and his mother simply said, “he was a hero, like your uncle.” Joseph had wanted to shout that unlike him, Barclay really was one. 

Then someone had to go and set off a firework right after they got home. 

Now he’s standing in the bedroom, fighting himself with rapidly dwindling success. He held it together then, why can’t he hold it together now? What if these attacks never stop, what if they get worse. If they get worse, someone will notice, oh god help him what if they happen in class, he’ll be fired for sure, what good is a professor who can’t do anything but shake? And if Barclay finds out, he’ll be gone in an instant, because Joseph will confess on top of everything else and then Barclay will know him not only as a coward who can’t keep the past at bay but as a failure. The one person he wants more than anything in the world will leave him and there will be no one to find him when one of these episodes finally stops his heart-

Warm, large hands cup his face, “Joseph, hey, stay with me.”

“I’m here.”

Barclay shakes his head, brown eyes overflowing with tender concern, “No, you’re not. You’re somewhere else. Come back to me. Please?”

“I don’t know how, I’ve tried and tried and I can never make it stop, I just have to ride it out, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-”

“What are you apologizing for?” Barclay, voice genuinely confused, is trying to guide him to sit on the bed, but his limbs are lead even as his heart tries to break his bones from the inside out, “you aren’t hurting me, things went well with your family, I thought everything was okay…”

Oh god that’s what the tone he couldn’t place at first is; Barclay is scared. He thinks he’s done something wrong. 

He’s already failing him. 

He has to push through, he can salvage this.

“Can you please close the curtain. And maybe roll up a towel at the bottom of the window? It’s those fucking fireworks, the noise and the light is getting to me.”

Barclay nods, squeezes his hand, and stands. Joseph inhales as deeply as he dares. 

It gets stuck, turning to a sob halfway through.

“Woah, woah baby hey” Barclay drops to his knees, “whatever you’re thinking of is in the past, it can’t get you here, you’re safe-”

He shakes his head without meaning to, “I don’t deserve to be. Someone else should have come back in my place.”

“Bullshit.” The murmur is surprisingly forceful. 

“No” he snaps, “it’s not. I was a spy, Barclay, and that means doing terrible things for the sake of keeping your cover. It means turning a blind eye to some of what you’re seeing because if you look too long you’ll decide to hell with the mission and try to stop it.”

Barclay stays quiet, keeps hold of his hands. There’s a burn scar on his wrist from an oven and Joseph raises it to his face, keeps it against his cheek. It’s easier to talk with it there, like whatever he says is a secret Barclay will hold in his palm for safekeeping. 

“I had a few near-misses but the worst one is the one I can’t shake. It was understood that if another agent was caught, unless we could be certain we could escape with them without blowing cover, we were not to intervene, even if it meant their death. I was in Dresden, technically as an axis member, but really on a mission where if I failed, there’d be more men dead than just me. It was already stressful because I knew there could be a bombing any moment.” 

He presses a kiss to Barclays skin to steady himself, “the other agent on the mission was found out. He ran, but where we were….there was no chance of escape, there were too many of them. I heard the shouts, knew what was happening, then he rounded the corner and I realized he was about to call out for me to help him. So I” he closes his eyes, lets him see it again as penance, “I shot him. Before he could reveal me, too.”

He’s still crying, but the sobs have stopped, and his heart is no longer ten seconds away from an attack. Now if only he could bring himself to look Barclay in the eye. 

“I don’t know what to say.” 

“It’s okay. If, I understand if this changes things-”

“No! I mean yeah, it does, but not how you’re thinking.” Barclay takes Joseph’s chin and gently guides his head up, “I literally don’t know what to say. Because what I want more than anything in the fucking world is to know the magic words that would make it better. But I don’t, and I’m not sure there are any, but I’ll be absolutely fucking damned if I make you feel worse. Yeah, I could sit here and judge, but I wasn’t fucking there, and what matters to me, in this moment, is that you’re still stuck.” He rests their foreheads together, “I know you’re trying to reconcile every awful thing you went through with the story everyone wants to tell about you. But I’m not someone you have to impress, or someone you have to confess to. I’m just the nobody cook who lucked out enough for you to like him.”

Joseph doesn’t throw himself into Barclay’s arms; that implies an energy he does not have. Instead he sinks into them, only for the cook to maneuver them both onto the bed and cradle him close. 

“How many times do I have to tell you you’re not a nobody, big guy?” The teasing comes out in a shaky whisper. 

“Dunno, it might not ever stick and you’ll just have to remind me every day how great I am.” 

He snickers, “I already plan on that.” A yawn overtakes him, “christ, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to just drop this into a nice evening. I’m so fucking tired.”

“Then we should get some shut eye.” Barclay carefully undoes the buttons of Joseph’s dress shirt.

“But-” 

Barclay looks at him, eyes hopeful and serious, “You want this thing between us to go on for a while, right?”

“More than anything.”

“Then we don’t have to talk through every tough thing in one night. We’ve got time. We can make a life that’s worth all the pain it took to get here. Together.”

Joseph nods, presses a kiss to those full lips as a thumb brushes the last of the tears from his cheek, “together.”

[black-arcana]

HALESTORM's LZZY HALE And JOE HOTTINGER Announce 'The Living Room Sessions' 2025 Tour

Lzzy Hale and Joe Hottinger of Grammy-winning hard rock band HALESTORM have announced an intimate tour featuring the two of them performing acoustic, stripped down versions of HALESTORM favorites and the music that has inspired the band. Dubbed "Halestorm's Lzzy And Joe: The Living Room Sessions", the tour consists of 12 dates in January 2025. A full list of dates is below.

A special BLABBERMOUTH.NET presale will begin on Thursday, October 24 at 10:00 a.m. local time and end on Thursday, October 24 at 10:00 p.m. local time. When prompted, type in the presale code "2025FREAKS" to access tickets before the general public. Check back here on Thursday for ticketing links to individual shows. General on-sale will be Friday, October 25 at 10 a.m. local time.

To give fans a taste of what’s to come at the shows, today Lzzy and Joe posted a sneak preview of a performance of "The Silence".

Lzzy states: "With this tour, we're inviting our fans to experience what it would be like hanging with Joe and me in our living room: picking up instruments, telling stories, chatting about songs that helped shaped us as a band and brought us to where we are today."

Joe adds: "Back when we decided to quit our day jobs and make music our full-time endeavor, Lzzy and I would play music wherever we could, and sometimes that meant playing acoustic covers in any bar or restaurant that would have us. That time really allowed us to develop our playing skills and dig into songwriting, and it really set the groundwork for what HALESTORM is today."

"Halestorm's Lzzy And Joe: The Living Room Sessions" 2025 tour dates:

Jan. 08 - Flint, MI - The Machine Shop Jan. 10 - Bloomington, IL - Bloomington Center for the Performing Arts Jan. 11 - Des Moines, IA - Hoyt Sherman Theatre Jan. 13 - Springfield, MO - Gillioz Theatre Jan. 14 - Little Rock, AR - The Hall Jan. 16 - Chattanooga, TN - The Signal Jan. 17 - Biloxi, MS - Hard Rock Live Jan. 19 - Pensacola, FL - Vinyl Music Hall Jan. 21 - Savannah, GA - District Live at Plant Riverside District Jan. 22 - Charleston, SC - Charleston Music Hall Jan. 24 - Springfield, MA - Aria Ballroom/MGM Springfield Jan. 25 - South Burlington, VT - Higher Ground

In a September 2024 interview with PK of Louisville, Kentucky's ALT 105.1 radio station, Lzzy spoke about the progress of the recording sessions for HALESTORM's follow-up to 2022's "Back From The Dead" album. Lzzy said: "We've had three separate sessions in the studio with — we're making a record with [producer] Dave Cobb. And he's actually a huge closet metal fan, and so he's really excited. And so we're making this great music, but we're constantly touring. So we've had, like, three different sessions in the studio. We're probably — what? — 70, 80, maybe, percent there. We have a studio in our house and so I'm doing a lot of the finishing touches on vocals and sewing everything up, doing solos and all that. And then we get back in in December to just say, 'Okay, this is good.' And then, yeah. And then there we are. So we're excited about it. We really are."

Cobb has shared in nine Grammy wins, including four for "Best Americana Album" and three for "Best Country Album". He's also been named "Producer Of The Year" by the Country Music Awards, the Americana Music Association (twice) and the Music Row Awards, and has been a Grammy nominee in the category.

HALESTORM and I PREVAIL recently embarked on summer 2024 co-headlining tour. Produced by Live Nation, the trek kicked off on July 9 in Raleigh and ran through August 17 in Las Vegas. HOLLYWOOD UNDEAD and FIT FOR A KING served as support. The tour was also the catalyst and the creative spark for HALESTORM and I PREVAIL's collaborative track "Can U See Me In The Dark?", which was released in June.

"Back From The Dead" has tallied over 100 million streams worldwide. Rolling Stone called the title track "a biting but cathartic howler about overcoming all obstacles," and that song as well as "The Steeple" marked their fifth and sixth number ones at rock radio, respectively. Associated Press said the album "will definitely be in the running for best hard rock/metal album of the year." Their previous album, "Vicious", earned the band their second Grammy nomination, for "Best Hard Rock Performance" for the song "Uncomfortable", the band's fourth #1 at rock radio, and led Loudwire to name HALESTORM "Rock Artist Of The Decade" in 2019.

Fronted by Lzzy with Arejay, Hottinger and bass player Josh Smith, HALESTORM's music has earned multiple platinum and gold certifications from the RIAA, and the band has earned a reputation as a powerful live music force, headlining sold-out shows and topping festival bills around the world, and sharing the stage with icons including HEAVEN & HELL, Alice Cooper, Joan Jett and JUDAS PRIEST. Additionally, Lzzy was named the first female brand ambassador for Gibson and served as host of AXS TV's "A Year In Music".

[blueberry-ovaries]

CHAPTER TWO: MAYBE HELL IS A LARGE MOUNTAIN IN TOCCOA, GEORGIA

A/N: Welcome to chapter two of hiraeth! This one is a long one and i’m not to sure if i’m happy with how it turned out, but i didn’t want to not post something so here it is!

Word Count: 2.3k

Content Warnings: period typical sexism, inaccurate historical retellings, violence, blood and war related injuries, PTSD, Winnie’s hatred of authority, bullying (?), probably OOC writing and horrible americanisation of words

< previous chapter > - < next chapter >

Eating rats in Africa had to be more enjoyable than running up a mountain in full pack gear. Especially when your CO hated your company and by extension you

To answer the question what the fuck is a currahee? Winnie was forced into her brand new boots, and a much too large uniform, to run up a large mountain. Not only did she twist her ankle in the first five minutes, but if one more man kicked dirt into her eyes, she might start getting violent.

Lieutenant Sobel was a sadist. Winnie decided on mile two of the run. Given the fact that it looked like he was almost enjoying their looks of despair. As Sobel watched her red faced and sweaty body push past the men on the mountain, she could almost hear the taunting words and insults spilling from his tongue. Although smaller by quite a margin, Winnie had months of active duty behind her, helping aid her in this, rather ridiculous climb. Now that is something she could hear, the grumbles and insults from the men in her company, not many liked the idea that some scrawny looking kid they’ve never met, beating them up currahee.

The top of currahee was an amazing view, not the Winnie got to see much of it. Her CO yelling at her that ‘this isn’t good enough for easy’ or that ‘woman in the military are to blame for our time up currahee’. Like she wasn’t the fastest person to haul ass up the mountain.

The bottom of the mountain left easy company in a pile of doubled over figures with their hands on their knees, sucking in as much air as possible.

“look at that, miss face scar thinking she’s better than us” one of the men mutter between gasps

“what do ya think she did to deserve that one?” another mumbled

Clenching her jaw, Winnie stretched out her neck. no fighting on your first day. A deep breath and an internal lecture on formality she rolled back her shoulders, walking towards the showers as instructed. Now the problem she faced was that there were no women’s showers, which meant, finding a time where there was no men in the shower would be difficult.

After finding a clean pair of clothes. something not covered in dust or ticks! Deciding she was far too sweaty to not shower before the dinner service, she took a faster pace. if i can shower quickly, wearing my undergarments, i can get to the food hall before everyone and-

“outta my way” accompanied by a harsh shove

“watch it dumbass” she hisses back, dusting the dirt off her shorts

“whaddya say to me?” his nostrils flare

“do i have to spell it out for you too?” Crossing her arms over her chest

Both soldiers stand nearly face to face, although in Winnie’s case more face to chest. Her rather short temper was not helped by months at war, and her counterparts clear distaste for her was not helped by her smart mouth.

“Hayes, Cobb, is there a problem here?” Winters crosses his arms over his chest

“not at all lieutenant” Winnie responds, her eyes never once softening from their glare.

With a quick look up and down the taller man, Winnie pushed past him with a shoulder bump and made her way towards the shower block. For all the money the United States Government has put into its military, you would think that maybe the showers would be more than four walls with a flimsy lock. But no! i have to shower and watch my back.

Luck. Something that is not entirely on her side. After the fifth scar, Winnie decided that if there was a God, he was playing with his food before eating it. Luck, was being able to shower without being interrupted, and thanking her lucky stars, she was showering. Maybe it had to do with how quickly she ran to get her clean clothes, or maybe, just maybe, Luck was on her side. The cold water hit her chest, with a choked gasp Winnie jumps backwards.

———

The sweltering heat of Africa was dry. Bugs bite the exposed skin of their legs, now visible after doc let them borrow his scissors. My rash had been present for three days, doc said once it hits a week, we start to worry. I wasn’t worried. As long as the bugs didn’t come near me. Fighting off the Germans was one thing, but bugs? that was a whole new ball game.

They tried to give us shifts down at the ocean. It wasn’t the best option for a shower, but after months in the heat, any water was good enough to clean the mud and grime from our blood stained skin.

The best factor was that the ocean was cold. Even five minutes to dunk yourself under the water and slapping a wet slouch hat on your head was enough to keep you going for the night.

The salt water stings. Eyes blurring as they’re opened under the sea. A burning wound. The ocean turning red. With a strangled gasp and her wet hair sticking to her face like a second skin, she paddles. Winnie holds her left shoulder with her hand, legs kicking wildly as a shot rings through the air.

“Sniper!” her voice is hoarse as she yells for her friends to take cover.

Groaning as she lands on the sand with a wet thud, blood coating her fingers a deep crimson. Dust coating her skin, and a lasting feeling of the cold water sticking to her body.

——

Winnie shakes her head like she can shake the memories loose from her brain. Her hand slams the faucet down, the shower instantly stopping the stream of cold water. not in africa not in africa. Her hands work quickly, drying herself, changing into her uniform. The sooner she could get out of here and eat, the better.

The cold door held her weight as she rested her forehead against it. Eyes screwed shut her chest shuddered with half taken breaths. in. out. in. out. Only allowing two minutes to crack before she pieced herself together. She had things to do. With her dirty clothes in hand, now dropped into the wash bin, Winnie set out for dinner.

left. right. left. right. one foot in-front of the other.

Army food was nothing of great expectation. Army chefs who aren’t actually chefs, mass producing meals with food that Winnie isn’t all to certain is food. Nonetheless, anything was better than eating rats. So she kept her mouth shut, made sure to say thank you to the cooks, and took her tray, sitting at the corner of the table, plenty of room for the men to sit.

Soon enough, tables filled up all around her, and as expected Winnie was the plague. At least, she’s certain people thought she was. That was the only reason for a full table of easy company men to be pushed into one side of the table.

“i don’t have rabies you know” she muttered towards… Johnny was it? Maybe it was Joe “it won’t kill you to sit next to me”

Poking at the concerning loaf shaped meat on her tray, she glanced up as someone coughed. The seat opposite her was about to have an occupant. really wish i learnt those names. He looked out of place, and quite frankly awkward.

“Is this seat taken miss?” He had a soft voice.

“Go ahead” She sighed softly, an open hand as she pointed to the chair

“I hope you don’t mind, the other side is lookin’ a little cosy for my liking” he explained

“Not at all… as long as you don’t mind sitting with the outcast” poking at her meat loaf. If she avoided eye contact, maybe it would be less awkard

“My ma always said it wasn’t right to be mean to someone just ‘cause you don’t know ‘em” The man spoke softly, but he held a fond look when he mentioned his mother. It was rather sweet Winnie thought.

“Well your ma must be a real nice lady” with a smile Winnie looked up at the man “Winnie”

“Darrel… But everyone calls me Shifty” he responded kindly

“It’s lovely to meet you Shifty” she nodded, and responds in a soft, almost embarrassed tone “thank you for sitting with me-“

Chatter around the room stops as the doors to the cafeteria slam against the walls. Standing like Satan at the gates of hell was Sobel, a harsh glare set on his pointed features as he scans the room for his prey. Winnie knew it. as soon as his head swivelled around the room. It was her.

“What do you think you are doing” his voice carries through the now quiet room, he strides to stand next to Winnie

“Stand at attention.” he snaps

Shooting out of her seat, her hand snaps into attention

“Lieutenant Sobel… sir?” her eyebrows crease slightly “is there a problem sir?”

“Do you enjoy making a mockery of the United States Military Private Hayes?” he sneers

Winnie’s face flushes red, All eyes were on her, as she stood at attention, Sobel not saluting her. She had never felt so much hatred for a man, and she’s known him less than twelve hours.

“It’s Sargent” she mutters

“Are you disagreeing with a commanding officer private” the look he gives is one of total contempt, she was beneath him and he wanted her to know it. Still he salutes her.

“It’s. sergeant.” her teeth grit

“Are you implying that your commanding officer is wrong, private Hayes” His tone implied that he was right, even if he wasn’t. A challenge. And boy does she like a challenge

“When my commanding officer refers to me using the wrong rank, then it would seem he, is in fact wrong” she narrows her eyes “my rank may not be from the United States Military, but it is in every way, a rank. I worked for that rank and it would be appreciated if my commanding officer would acknowledge that fact… Sir”

A low whistle settles through the crowd, a soft “oh shit” comes from one of the easy men

“Winnie-“ shifty’s plea is cut off but an angry Sobel

“Respect seems to not be taught in your country. You will not have such blatant disrespect for a commanding officer.” Sobel seethes, a vein popping in his forehead “you will leave the remainder of your meal, and run currahee with your pack. And you will run it without drinking from your canteen, until you understand what respect is.”

Winnie’s jaw clenches so hard she fears she may have cracked a tooth. She tries to not glare at her CO.

“Do i make myself clear.” he asks, his voice low and threatening

“Yes. sir.” she grits out. Saluting.

——

The Georgian air was much warmer at night than Africa or New Guinea. But with the added weight of a full pack, complete with her canteen and new boots. New unbroken boots. Winnie was slowly warming up. The weight was not a new feeling. Carrying all her belongings, her comrades, weapons, anything of importance up the treacherous slopes and hills of Kokoda, the pack was not her worry for her punishment.

The lack of food, even if it tasted like wet cardboard and had the consistency of beans in jelly, was sustenance. And was she going to need that right now. By the time she reached her second dessent from currahee, Winnie noticed the little swirls in her vision. Still, she refused to drink from her canteen. She may be hot headed but she was not crazy enough to disobey a direct order such as this one.

Her feet felt like she was dragging them through the muddy walkways on New Guinea. Like she was up to her calves in mud so wet it was like quicksand. She felt like the world was on her shoulders, Hike three up Currahee left black dots in her vision. But Winnie was nothing if not stubborn, and if she was told to hike, well she was going to hike, if it meant proving her CO wrong.

The fall broke her nose. Atleast, she’s pretty sure it did. She can’t exactly see or hear who was talking to her, but she’s pretty sure he said the words ‘broken’ and ‘idiotic’. The stars looked pretty from here. It’s been so long since she’s been able to lay and watch the sky

“-an you hear me?” a southern drawl sounds

“What?” a mumbled response, as she rolls her neck side to side

“I said can you hear me?” the man asks, he had a rather deep voice. it was comforting however, rather than intimidating

“Yeah” groaning at the now present pain in her face, Winnie forced herself into a sit

“Take it easy, you hit your head pretty hard” he mumbles

“What happened?” Winnie blinks a few times, clearing the spots in her vision, her nose throbbed, and she was sure it needed to be reset

“You broke your nose” He answers off handedly, reaching up to feel around her nose

“How do you know.” Defensively Winnie pulls away from his hands “stop touchin’ me, you can’t just touch people without asking, especially when i don’t know you”

“Would ya stop bein’ difficult and let me fix it” he sighs, his accent getting thicker in irritation

“No. I don’t know you, how do i know you won’t just make it worse” tilting her head defiantly

He sighs in irritation

“Eugene Roe, medic” he drawls “now will you let me fix the nose ‘fore it gets worse”

reluctantly, she nods. Staring at the man with curiosity. He was handsome, there was no denying that. But he was reserved, not in the way Shifty was, like Eugene Roe was purposely closing himself off.

“i’m gonna set it now” he warns “one. two-“

A loud crack sounds through the air, followed swiftly by a string of curses. Winnie now hated yanks and their medics.

——

A/N: HI! i really hope you enjoyed chapter two of hiraeth! it will start to pick up shortly, but unfortunately the only way this chapter was getting written was if it was a ‘building chapter’ nonetheless i hope you enjoyed!

TAG LIST: @malarkgirlypop @mads-weasley @footprintsinthesxnd @bucky32557038ww2 @grumpy-liebgott @executethyself35

[enchi-elm]

But how long were Saito and Robert in limbo?

No one knows for sure! Nolan gives us juuuust information for me to come to my own conclusions but not enough to answer some pretty basic questions that might give us a definitive number.

But I have an answer for you!

Get ready for spreadsheets, time conversion charts, infograms, and so, so much conjecture.

(caution: contains overthinking)

By watching the scenes, making a note of what happens, and guesstimating loosely how many in-person minutes it would have taken, I have added up how much time the team spends in level 3 once they reach the fortress. There's a chart at the bottom that shows this in picture-form, but to be exact:

Eames rushes to resuscitate Robert, Cobb and Ariadne arrive, they talk about the plan, Cobb and Ariadne go under {3 minutes}

Eames gives Saito the gun, goes and sets charges, Saito holds off security, Saito dies {6.5 minutes}

Eames arrives in antechamber, Arthur starts the music, Eames starts reviving Robert (first attempt) {30 seconds}

Eames keeps trying to revive Robert {10 seconds}

Robert is revived and talks with Maurice, Eames watches Inception, Eames blows the charges {1 minute}

Ariadne arrives from limbo, wakes in level 3, the floor drops {1 second}

Ariadne wakes in level 2, the elevator stops {1 second}

The van sinks in the river, a sleeping Cobb is left behind and drowns {2 minutes}

Cobb washes up in limbo from having died [*], gets found by Saito's security, gets taken to Saito's palace, convinces him to wake up {30 minutes}

Obviously I had to assume a few things to make any of this work:

[*] I assume that Cobb drowning -- and actually dying instead of just sleeping -- is how he manages to wash up on the shores of limbo despite already being in limbo. If you want to quibble with me on this, PLEASE DO. I would love to talk about how this plot point was supposed to work

All these times are made up based on how many times it flashed between the scenes, how much progress Eames had made around the fortress and how badly it looked like he was getting his ass handed to him by Robert's security XD

The time for a kick from one level to the next (to wake up, essentially) is 1 second

Saito dies the instant before Eames appears in the antechamber

It takes Eames a few tries to get Robert back with the AED

You might notice that I've converted the times listed above (highlighted blue in the chart) into time spent in limbo. As Yusuf so kindly explains to us, there is a twenty-fold acceleration between levels. In table form, that looks like this:

There's not really a need to have a separate minutes and hours table--the numbers are the same, obviously, but it makes it easier to see our magic number highlighted in yellow, the numbers that Yusuf confirms for us: 10 hours in real time is 8.3 days in level 1, 5.5 months in level 2, 9.1 years in level 3, and a whopping 182 years in limbo (ouch).

Yes, you can access this spreadsheet here: [x].

So we have a rough timeline and a conversion chart. From there, it's just a very fun exercise in converting time and adding minutes.

So, as you can see, here's what we end up with:

Robert was in limbo for 203 minutes and 20 seconds, which equates to 3 hours, 23 minutes and 20 seconds.

Saito was in limbo for 320 070 minutes and 20 seconds, which equates to 7 months, 12 days, 6 hours, 30 minutes, and 20 seconds.

Wait, only 7 months? But Saito ends up, like, ancient, right? For sure! So for Nolan-verse to make sense, one of my assumptions has to be wrong. The one really easy way to rack up the years in limbo is to spend even a few more minutes in level 1. If Cobb takes 15 minutes (according to how time passes in level 1) to find Saito, that converts to 4.6 years in limbo.

So how long in level-1-time would Cobb have to faff about to pass 50 years in limbo? Thanks to the spreadsheet, we can find out it's 60 hours!

Other theories I've seen discuss how your appearance in limbo has a lot more to do with how old you feel than how old your "body" is. I like this idea!

Anyway, everyone else survives the van, swims to shore, and hangs around for 8.3 days.

Wait, 8.3 days? Don't they wake up?

This is where I get really confused because I think Nolan changes how kicks work.

There's a lot of pressure to sync up the kicks but we never find out why. Will they be left behind? Yanked out before the job is done? Left feeling totally discombobulated because part of their consciousness is on another dream level? I need specifics, Nolan! But as for the actual kick mechanic, honestly, I had a pretty good grasp on it until Ariadne said "we ride the kicks all the way up" and I could feel my tenuous understanding disintegrate like a marshmallow in a blast furnace.

Earlier in the movie, we see Arthur asleep, immune to Yusuf slapping his face. He only wakes when Yusuf tips him over. He needed a kick from the level above (reality) to wake up from his dream (level 1). We see the same thing when Cobb gets dumped in water at the start of the movie: a kick in reality to get him out of the dream.

If Arthur's elevator trick is all it takes to wake them up from the fortress (the kick from the level above), why have they got explosives in level 3 in the first place?

Because suddenly, the logic changes: when we see the kicks start to collapse, we watch Ariadne fall off a skyscraper in limbo (the lowest level) to get back up to level 3. This is the reverse of what we understand. The fortress explodes, the floor drops, the kick that happens in level 3 takes her to level 2. The elevator stops in level 2 and that kick takes her to level 1. Suddenly it's the kick from below that seems to do the trick.

And yet everything we see before then seems to go against then. IF YOU UNDERSTAND THIS BETTER THAN I DO, PLEASE DM ME. I'm too invested in this.

Anyway.

They're sitting at the rocky riverbank and shivering. They're too heavily sedated to wake up from death or fear. They need a kick. There's probably nothing stopping them from falling from a great height in level 1 to try and wake up, but again, what understanding of "kick" are we using? Could you do it in either reality or in the dream? Barring repeated jumping on a trampoline in level 1, they would need heavy turbulence on the plane (or the landing on the tarmac) in reality to disrupt their inner ear. If that's all it takes--yeah, they can wake up as soon as the job is done.

But for fic purposes (and yes I've got one in progress), I think it's way funnier if they just have to sit around for 8 days until the sedation wears off.

What about Mal? How long was she in limbo with Robert before Cobb showed up?

Hah, yeah, okay. So. Hear me out. She's Cobb's projection. Her death in level 3 should not have done anything. She's not wired to the PASIV, she's not a sedated human partaking in the dream-sharing. There is no separate, distinct human mind to fall into unconstructed dream space. Robert should, technically, be chilling in limbo alone.

Of course, once Cobb goes down there he inevitably takes her with him, the same way he does in every level he goes to. And her death in limbo, of course, is meaningful, certainly for Cobb.

I disagree with you on so many fronts.

DM me or find me on the Discord. I have so much time on my hands right now (clearly) and love dragging people into rabbit holes with me. I already am hemming and hawing about some of the lengths of time I chose for the events in level 3.

And if I have made an egregious math or plot error, I look forward to hearing about it for the rest of my life as the edited post tries to catch up with the original 😂

[inkformyblood]

come into the parlour (DinCobb Summer Bingo)

SFW I for Ice-Cream! Modern AU

In the middle of bum-fuck nowhere was one hell of a place for Cobb’s pa to set up an ice cream parlour.

It was never meant to be something profitable, something Cobb only learnt when he was older, already three degrees of silver in his hair and beard and sitting at a sticky table with a stack of insurance forms for the building and none for the man who ran it. He’d gotten a note instead of a visit, plain old lined paper folded once and tucked into the envelope alongside the newspaper clipping announcing his father’s death and another that marked his release from county jail for money laundering.

Cobb had known pieces here and there; a child left to be tended by the wilderness and a mother who tried her best all the same would do that to a boy. He’d always pictured his father dressed like his Mama on laundry days, his shirt-sleeves rolled up past his elbows and a rag tied over the dark crest of his curls, an apron slung around his hips and knotted twice. He’d pictured his daddy leaning over the sink and slinging bills onto the line fresh from the wash, pegging them up next to each other until they’d rustle in the breeze; polishing pennies and nickels until they shone and set them in careful stacks on the sideboard. Clean money. Legit money.

Cobb sits in the husk of his father’s life work, the gentle hum of empty freezers infecting the spaces between his thoughts, a couple of cans of petrol rusting next to his legs, and he lifts up another smoke, breathing in the ash without tasting it.

“One helluva fresh start,” Cobb murmurs, tipping his head back to the neon sign above the counter. The pink light washes over the planes of his face and it isn’t a sunrise, not even the benediction of stained glass, but it’s something all the same.

⁂

The delivery is running late.

Haemorrhaging across the sky is a wash of pinks and oranges, competing with the lurid neon tones of the sign washing over every crack and kicked stone in the parking lot. Cobb hadn’t bothered paving it, tamping down the ground enough that it wouldn’t shift easily and spending an agonising week every winter remarking the bays where the bigger trucks can spend the night. The earth is flat here, sky and earth blurring at the horizon until Cobb fancies he could just walk far enough that he’d reach the distant uncaring stars and get to cut his knuckles on their edges.

It’s that self-same horizon he’s watching while lying to himself that he isn’t.

The cloth wrapped around his fingers is damp, a few drops of cleaning solution falling onto the toe of his boot and darkening the leather. Chewing the flat of his tongue, Cobb lifts the cloth, a tributary beginning to slide down his arm before he throws it into the bucket. It slaps against the side dully, the scent of lemon disinfectant beginning to seep into the stitches of his clothes along with the everpresent aroma of sugar that had been an unexpected side effect of his decision.

There’s a chill in the air, the night just beginning to put out questioning fingers and the final freezer door propped open behind him. The hair on the back of his neck prickles, the sensation crawling down his spine and the slope of his arms. He should have closed the shop by now, called it all a lost cause and have himself two drinks deep in a radio show by now, but something keeps him tethered to this spot. If Cobb had any shades of a religious man left in him, he would have called it blind faith in some higher power, but he doesn’t anymore. Living had a way of grinding down some parts of a man into powder that blows away with a breeze, hollowing out others until something new can put down roots and grow in the space left behind.

It’s not a crush.

Cobb’s a man grown and gone silver several times over by now. Crushes are for the sweet young things that make the trip out on the weekends to sit, knees knocking together, giggling over a shared cone then swapping strawberry flavoured kisses in the small pool of shade in the back corner of the parking lot. Crushes are for better men than he could ever be with bright futures laid out in front of them instead of already ground into the dirt. Cobb isn’t ashamed of his past, proud of what he’s accomplished despite the deck being balanced against him, but it still stains him in some indescribable way.

He doesn’t have a crush on his missing delivery man. Instead, Cobb is hopelessly and completely in love with him.

“Now, this ain’t no way to behave,” Cobb murmurs, trying to convince the universe just as much as himself. He scrubs the flat of his palm, still damp from the cloth, over the stubble just beginning to itch along his jaw, and turns away from his vigil. His gaze lands squarely on the bowl sitting just inside the humming freezer.

It’s nothing special, one scoop of regular chocolate, another of strawberry, and one randomly selected blueberry cheesecake scoop. Then, on top, hot fudge sauce, chocolate chips, and peanuts. Specific but not at the same time, technically forgettable amongst the steady stream of others an oddity like Vanth’s Parlour coaxes in through the doors, but Cobb remembers. He remembers because he can’t do anything but. He had made it up a few hours ago, his normal delivery time, and moved it to the freezer when the spoon had begun to sag against the side of the bowl. Stupid treacherous heart.

He can’t even bring himself to eat it, sweetness turned sickly in his nose, the cloying congealed mess of flavours running together turning his stomach. He should throw it away, but he doesn’t dare move away from the horizon to do so. If he does, he’ll have to admit the dull smudge in the distance might be nothing more than his imagination, just his mind playing tricks on him to prolong his instance of agony.

Cobb blinks once more, opening his eyes wide enough for the night to peek inside to his soul. The smudge might have gotten bigger, might even be considered a haze now, some wavering formless thing springing into life along the winding black asphalt that tears through the landscape like a sewn wound. Cobb’s teeth catch against the jagged edge of his nail and he tears himself free, blood beading dark and insistent. Not just a haze, but a figure. On foot and pushing the husk of his motorbike next to him, occasionally skipping a step or two to keep up with the gentle decline.

Moving deeper into the parlour, Cobb picks up the bowl from the freezer, shoving the door closed. The spoon knocks against the edge as he turns, catching the front door before the bell overhead can chime, and he holds the bowl up once he’s sure Din is close enough to make it out.

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s rude to keep a lady waiting?” Cobb calls, unable to keep the grin from his face. It aches, pulling at the corners of his mouth, his nose crinkling beneath the sheer weight of it.

Din looks up at the sound of Cobb’s voice. He’s still wearing his helmet, the visor pushed back to reveal deeply mournful eyes that brighten when he focuses on Cobb standing in the doorway. His curls would be flattened to his head with sweat, several shades darker than they would be in half an hour, and his leathers are pale with dust and grime. It strikes a strange chord in Cobb’s mind, almost as if in another life he’d be standing in the doorway of their shared home, watching Din make his way up the garden path, white picket fence just behind him, Cobb in pink pinstripes with rollers in his hair, the seam of his stockings straight enough to make up for the fact he isn’t.

“Sorry ma’am,” Din answers, closer now, gentler. He blinks up at Cobb from beneath a sweep of dark lashes. “I’ll try to break down in your parking lot in future.”

“See that you do,” Cobb answers, his grin cracking through the facade of prim and proper he’s fighting to keep balanced on his face. “Now, come on in, you can rest your bike in the little shed round back once you’ve sat a stretch. Can’t imagine there’d be anyone wandering past who’d steal it but better safe than sorry.”

He can taste the ghost of his parent’s when he speaks sometimes but can’t string the memory together well enough to know if it’s the petrol-ash of his daddy’s words or the lemon cut with sugar of his mother’s. Cobb steps back on legs that feel like they’re going to buckle beneath him, unsteady in the familiar territory he’s been haunting all these years, and Din moves in tandem with him, settling his bike onto the ground and hefting a holdall further up onto his back. He catches the door that slips from Cobb’s fingers, his hand leaving a heavy smudge against the paler wood inside.

Din colours at the sight of it, the door dropping from numb fingers. The flush settles high over the bridge of his nose, descending low over the stripe of skin Cobb can make out at the junction of his helmet and shirt. Din doesn’t fidget, making to pull his helmet off and strip his gloves at the same time, but Cobb stops him with a wave of his hand, herding Din towards one of the booths. “Sit, eat. I’ll sort the rest, don’t you worry.”

Cobb presses his hand into the small of Din’s back, sliding the bowl of ice cream in front of him. After a moment of consideration, he heads back to the counter, leaning over the top to grab one of the clean glasses from behind. The drink machines had been disconnected and cleaned, the nozzles bobbing about in a bowl of solution, but water would be better after a trek halfway through the desert. The pipes rattle, a heavy distant sound that echoes in the empty space of his bones, some fragment of memory putting down a handful more of thread-wide white roots, and he turns back to Din before he can stumble after it.

On the table, facing away to stare out of the window, Din’s helmet sits. There’s a faded sticker over the nape of its neck, something that had once been green before time got to it. Some of Din’s curls are still askew from his long walk and Cobb reaches for them as he slides into the seat opposite Din. His feet knock against Din’s boots, sand gritty beneath his soles, but it doesn’t matter as Din leans into his touch.

There’s sweat, the everpresent tang of sugar in the air, and Cobb’s heart stutters into a delicate start. This could be something, something he could have. Din grins up at him, a smudge of ice cream on his lower lip, and he nudges the bowl towards Cobb. “Share with me?”

“I’d love to, sugar.”

[mister-eames]

im in SHAMBLES cause i always knew that the original security is gonna run you down line was between Arthur and Dom but was given to A/E later but only now I got to know that it was not “be back before the kick” in the original script but actually “be back in time for the kick” from Dom!! Be back in in time for the kick is not asking to be safe it’s actually a command or a direction; and it’s further cemented by Arthur’s reply in script; it’s “I’m on it” .. it matches their dynamic from the beginning, professional with cobb sort of calling the shots. But when mr Nolan gave it to A/E he had to change it?? Cause it doesn’t match this married couple??? So he made it be back BEFORE the kick with a thinly veiled “ BE SAFE BABE”???? And GO TO SLEEP MR EAMES ?? Meaning don’t worry about me darling I’ll be there???!!!!!! My head hurts??????

It still blows my mind how it was originally Arthur and Cobb having this moment in the script and Nolan, presumably like us, was captivated by the chemistry and quiet story of Arthur and Eames, and changed the characters around! It's a perfect bookend to their snarky beginnings, to the shot of them planning the job, you know the one, where it focuses on Arthur and Eames for "...we all yearn for reconciliation..." to this exchange. Nolan knew it was necessary, in case the audience was wondering, Arthur and Eames got their reconciliation. That we got to see them full circle.

Because the way it was scripted with Cobb was between friends/comrades. Arthur reaffirming to Cobb he can be trusted, that he's got his back despite what occurred and was revealed the level above. Lovely. But so much about Cobb and Arthur's friendship is not said in so many words. It really wasn't necessary. It didn't lend any sort of closure to the characters journey's to have this scene play out, it just didn't make sense.

The fact that the script had to change along with their characters so that Arthur and Eames could flirt and smile at each other and 'be back before the kick', and 'uh-huh go to sleep' like COME ON. It's the contrast from all their other scenes - the banter and teasing, Eames laughing at Arthur's kick tests - this scene was so gentle, so soft and so quiet. In the same way Eames didn't need to help Arthur with the projections in level one, Arthur did not have to help Eames with his cannula. He didn't need to flick Eames fingers away and help him above anyone else. Arthur very much chose to help out so they could have these sweet nothings this quiet talk.

Every time someone tries to reduce Arthur/Eames down to 'darling' I feel like the Will Smith meme pointing at all the rest of it. Like, are we all not seeing this?? It kills me. This scene kills me -- it's so important to their relationship and themselves as individual characters,

[pascalscoffin]

Bad Idea

Full Pedro Masterlist

No this is not inspired by Olivia Rodrigo’s song

Warnings: Minors Go Away I Will Kick You In The Forehead. Smut: unprotected p in v sex (do what you want, heathens); oral (f receiving); biting; Dieter gives a pussy she/her pronouns; “choking”; Dieters a menace. Reader works at the hotel and just can’t follow literally one of the only rules DONT FUCK THEM

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You never really fawned over celebrities before, you never really understood the hype, they were just normal people that made it onto tv more often than most normal people. Anyway, that’s what you used to think, but being the concierge of a fancy ass hotel in England quickly taught you otherwise.

Sure, celebrities wanted you to think they were normal, just regular people milling through their day with an annoying boss- their bosses were in fact annoying- but these people were far from normal, most of them had absolutely insane views, or requested absolutely ridiculous things from you or the other hotel workers. And they never fucking tipped. Ever.

So, the ‘do not fuck them’ rule was never really a problem for you, sure your favorite celebrity would come in, you’d get the butterflies and the nervous feelings- and then they opened their mouth and they were just… horrible, and any infatuation you’d had for them would be gone immediately.

When you heard a whole slew of them would be bubbling in the hotel you worked at, you seriously considered completely resigning from the job altogether and finding a new one, you didn’t want to be stuck in a hotel with those people for three months! Filling their ridiculous requests and making them feel good about themselves when they inevitably crash, because they always do.

Ronjon, though, had somehow managed to convince you not to, and now here you were, standing at the front desk of the hotel as the actors got taken care of outside before coming in. It was the Cliffbeasts cast and crew, Cliffbeasts, while it was an okay movie, ultimately did… nothing for you because you really would rather just go watch Jurassic Park.

Not to mention the cast of the Cliffbeasts movies made you want to shoot yourself in the face. Sean Knox was a “wellness guru” though something felt fishy there to you, like maybe he didn’t believe in it or something, or maybe like it was a cult. Carol Cobb.. you weren’t sure why you didn’t like her, she was a decent actress.. well despite that half-Pakistani half-Israeli role she’d recently done but you couldn’t really blame her for that… could you? Lauren Van Champ… you really really didn’t like Lauren, her nasally cry thing was annoying, her Cliffbeasts accent was just… too harsh, and her all around… everything just made you not like her. Her husband Dustin Mulray was a class A fucking asshole, drunk and disorderlies, screaming at old ladies, he was even seen flipping off a seven year old one time.

Krystal Kris was a new face to the movies, a young girl famous on TikTok for her choreography.. if you can call swaying your ass back and forth choreography. Howie Frangopolous was a good actor with some truly comedic gold lines, though a bit hot headed according to tabloids.

And then there was Dieter Bravo. Dieter was probably the only one that didn’t put on a show for people, didn’t try to make his life seem more or less fabulous, he didn’t dress up for anything that wasn’t a tv interview or an award show, though you figured if he could dress like a hobo to those things he probably would.

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You’d heard Dieter was a man whore, giving himself over to any woman or guy that was willing to lay under or on top of him. So, you expected him to be.. less than appropriate. Maybe a scandalous comment here and there, or sultry looks, you didn’t know, but you were determined to stick your ground and not fall into any traps.

That proved difficult, though, because it seemed like every time you went to Dieter’s room to collect a service tray, or bring him food or clean towels, he wanted a serving platter once and hasn’t returned it yet, he was pretty much fucking naked, door flung all the way open with his arms stretched out, sometimes in a bathrobe, other times in a wool brown robe you often thought about feeling anywhere on your skin that wasn’t your fingertips. Always with a cheeky, sexual grin as he tried to coax you into his chamber of pleasure, you’d decline with a comment about him having a fist and internet before practically sprinting away from him.

You’d tried not to be around him too much if you didn’t have to go to his room, feeling your resolve crack each time he’d flash you that stupid fucking smile that made your heart palpitate. The stars were having dinner together tonight though so you wouldn’t be able to avoid him like you’d hoped.

You walked over to him and Carol when you noticed he didn’t have any water and motioned to his water class with the pitcher in your hand. “Would you like some more?” Dieter looked over at you quickly and grinned over the top of his sunglasses. “Yes. Please.” He reached for his water quickly and extended it out to you, gazing up at you with those big brown eyes.

God you had to get away from him, away from this room, before your resolve completely shattered and you were begging him to just take you right then and there. Bad idea, bad idea, bad idea. Repeated in your head like a mantra as you poured his water and then rushed away from him, feeling your face start to warm up under his heated gaze.

Dieter stared at you like that all night, like he knew something you didn’t know and it was driving you crazy. At the end of the dinner you rushed to help clean everything up as the actors started to file out of the room. Dieter, though, hung by the entry way, watching you as you scampered around the dining area.

When you made your way out you stopped in front of Dieter and put on your most professional smile. “What can I get for you, Dieter.” Dieter looked down at you and tilted his head a little.

“Do you wanna have sex with me?” Your eyes widened and you jerked your head behind you to make sure your coworkers hadn’t heard, opening and closing your mouth before looking at Dieter. “That’s unprofessional, Dieter.” You stuttered, trying to move past him.

He followed you, though, and continued. “That wasn’t a no.” He looked at you and you sighed, shaking your head. “It’s a bad idea.” “Again, that’s not a no.” You sighed harder this time and stopped, turning to face him. “Do you actually want to have sex with me or just sex with something?” Dieter opened and closed his mouth and you raised a brow. “Find me with an answer and I’ll give you mine.” “Yours?” Dieter perked up and his eyes fell to your crotch. You scoffed and slapped under his chin. “My answer.” You rolled your eyes. “Now go to your room and take a cold shower or something.”

“Cold showers don’t work.” Dieter grumbled as he slouched away, bath robe swinging side to side with a big pout on his face. You shook your head and went back to doing your work, rubbing your wrist against your forehead.

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Two days later Dieter was asking for chocolate strawberries and rosé to be brought to his room- by you specifically. When you got to his room you tapped your knuckles against it and hummed as you waited for him to open the door.

When he opened it, he actually had pants on this time, well not pants, more like those dress shorts you usually hated on men but… they looked good on Dieter. And of course, he had on that brown robe again. He looked godly, really.

“Hi. Come in.” Dieter stepped to the side quickly and you raised a brow before stepping into the room a when he motioned you in before closing the door. You looked at the door, and then Dieter.

“I thought about what you said.” He nodded and sat on the sofa, patting the cushion next to him. This is a bad idea. Echoed in your head as you slowly set the strawberries and rosé down, sitting down next to him even slower as you pressed your hands into your skirt. “Okay…”

You didn’t actually expect him to think about it. You thought maybe he’d give up the chase and try to find someone else in the hotel or maybe finally cave in and just fuck his god damn fist- no such luck, though.

“I thought about it a lot. Like a lot. I haven’t slept. Well I slept but only for like thirty minutes and then I dreamt about it.” You blinked and motioned for him to continue. “Okay…” he nodded. “I wanna have sex with you. Anybody else is just confident. Around.” He shrugged. “Besides… I’ve wanted to taste you since the second I walked into the hotel.”

You widened your eyes a little and let out a little scoff. “What?” “That’s why I keep asking people if they wanna have sex. I keep thinking about you. About how your pussy would taste. How she looks. Fuck I bet she’s pretty.” His eyes are glued to your skirt now, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as you looked anywhere but at him because you had one sliver of resolve left and you could already feel it starting to slip away right into Dieter’s thick fingers for him to just completely obliterate.

“Dieter you can’t-“ Dieter was in your personal space now, practically sitting on you but not necessarily in your face or anything. “Bet she glitters like fucking gold when she’s all wet and waiting for somebody’s cock.” And then his hand is sliding under your skirt and his lips are on your neck. “I bet she’s soft and warm and tight. I bet she’ll flutter like a fucking butterfly when I finally let her cum.” And that was it.

You whined and grabbed Dieter’s wrist to push his hand under your skirt, taking a deep breath when his large warm hand settled over your panties, already wet with your arousal. Dieter groaned low in his chest before slipping his hand into your panties and resuming his assault on your neck, getting more aggressive.

“Need you to say it.” He shifted so he was turned towards you better. “Tell me what you want, pretty girl.” He nipped at your jawline lightly, causing you to shudder as your eyelids fluttered, moaning softly. “Dieter- need you to fuck me. Please.” You scratched his forearm lightly. “Please.”

Dieter pulled away and was quickly tugging your blouse of your skirt and started yanking it over your head before kissing your chest, biting down on the flesh of your left breast. You yelped a little and looked down at him as he slid his tongue over the bite and grinned before lifting you up so he could unzip your skirt before tugging it down.

Once he had your clothes off and you were sitting there in your bra and panties, he stood up and put his hands on his hips, getting a good at you. “Fuck you look gorgeous.” He mumbled, licking his lips before leaning down and slamming his lips against yours.

You pushed into the kiss eagerly and let out a soft moan, grabbing his robe and pulling him down on top of you, pressing up against him. Dieter moaned happily and pressed his hips down into yours eagerly, letting out a shuttery breath.

“Gotta taste you. Fuck. I’ve been wanting to taste you.” He reached behind you to unhook your bra, nipping lightly at your nipples before trailing down your torso and to where he really wanted to be.

“She’s crying for me, baby. You shouldn’t deprive a lady of what she wants.” Dieter shook his head and pulled your panties down, groaning happily and closing his eyes before pressing his face deep into your pussy.

You gasped and looked down at him with wide eyes, moaning loudly and gripping the couch cushions tightly, trembling a little. “Dieter- fuck.” You pushed your hips up into his mouth and whined softly, looking down at him.

Dieter peered up at you through his lashes, humming happily and sucking on your clit like a pacifier. Your back arched as you gasped loudly, moaning as your eyelids fell shut, dropping your head back as you rocked your hips up into his mouth eagerly, your hands moving from the cushions to his hair when he slid his tongue into you and started fucking you with it.

You’d never really enjoyed oral before, most guys that tried were rushing so they could get to their prize, bury themselves in you and then never call you again. Dieter, though, Dieter ate pussy like his life absolutely depended on whether or not you came. His tongue massaged every inch eagerly but not too eager to the point where he was rushed and sloppy.

His movements were calculated, lips moving like he was having the most intense make out session, sloppy wet sounds mixing with his moans and groans, fingernails dug deep into your skin. He was actually enjoying it, his own hips pushing against the air as he looked up at you with those big brown eyes, whining and begging you to cum on his tongue.

It wasn’t long before your brows furrowed and your mouth fell open, her legs shaking and closing around his head as you came with a loud cry of his name, trembling a little and tangling your fingers tightly in the hair on the back of his head, keeping him in place even if he made no movements to pull away.

After a moment, though, he tapped your thigh and you felt your cheeks warm up more than they already. Your skin was practically on fire, already a little damp from the exertion. You slowly opened your legs and Dieter pulled up with a small gasp, panting softly as he grinned cheekily, face shiny with your juices.

You blinked rapidly as you looked at him and shifted a little. “Knew she tasted good. Taste.” He leaned in and pressed his lips to yours tightly, pulling you closer to him as he pushed his tongue into your mouth. You moaned happily and tangled your tongue with his. Dieter wasn’t really the type to wipe his face, instead opting for leaving your juices there, sliding his tongue wherever he could get it on his face before he was picking you up and carrying you over to his bed.

You yelped when he threw you down on it and laughed as you looked up at him. “Keep it on.” You said quickly when he went to take off the coat, raising a brow at you. “What?”

“I…” you huffed. “You come to the door naked in the coat constantly and you’re not gonna fuck me in it?” You pouted. “A little lack-luster if you ask me, Dieter.”

Dieter blinked and slowly let go of the coat with a grin, humming. “Alright.” He moved down to his shorts and undid them before pushing them down- commando- you expected nothing less from him.

“God I’ve been dreaming about this since I got here. Been wanting to bury myself in this warm pussy.” Dieter purred and kissed you deeply as he pushed your legs apart and slotted himself between them, grinding against you but not quite sliding in yet.

“Please, Dieter. Need you.” You begged, grabbing his shoulders under the jacket as you peered up at him, trying to tug him closer. “Can’t stop thinking about it. Please.”

Dieter grinned and chuckled a little as he started kissing your neck. “So impatient.” “Says the guys who’s been begging me to fuck him for three weeks.” Dieter laughed again and lifted up so he could watch as he grabbed the base of his dick and guided it into you slowly, groaning happily.

“Look at how hungry she is.” He mumbled softly, sliding his thumb over your clit slowly. “Swallowing me up so good. Didn’t even need to stretch her out.” He ran his hands over you slowly, pulling out and then sliding back in, groaning. “God it looks so pretty. Fuck. Got me all soaked already.” He dropped his head back as he bottomed out, eyelids fluttering as he closed them.

“Dieter~” you whimpered, you were honestly surprised you hadn’t needed any stretching, Dieter was definitely the biggest guy you’d been with, not in just one aspect but individually you’ve been with men that compared either girth wise or length wise. But you’d never been with someone as long and as girthy as Dieter, your legs shook as you hooked them around his waist, sliding under the coat as you whined.

“Fuck you feel so good.” Dieter groaned into your neck, starting to bite and suck on your neck. “Harder- Dieter, harder. Please.” You begged him, tugging him closer and leaning up to kiss him eagerly as he started fucking into you harder, huffing softly.

“Listen to you, baby. You sound so fucking pretty- fuck- gonna have to keep you around huh?” He kissed your jaw lightly, nudging his nose against your cheek lightly. “Would you like that? You can come live with me in Sherman Oaks, have your own room- fuck- your own house if you want one. Never have to work again just be my little play thing- fuuuck.” Dieter whimpered when your nails dug into his shoulders, a gasp falling from your lips when he brushed your gspot.

“Dieter-“ “aww I know, sweet girl.” Dieter purred, kissing your cheek gently. “Feels good, huh?” He angled his hips to hit your gspot with each thrust, groaning with the way you were fluttering around him, shuddering as you nodded your head rapidly. “Yes. Fuck it feels so good, Dieter.” You whined, rocking your hips with his before gasping when he shoved your hips down into the mattress.

“Stay still, sweet girl. You just sit there, look pretty, and feel good.” Dieter hummed, nipping lightly at your jawline as you nodded eagerly, not even sure what you were agreeing to as you felt his thumb press into your clit, the rest of his hand splayed over your mons pubis, his fingertips grazing your midriff as your head fell back, the pressure of his hand pressing down caused everything to feel ten times stronger than it already did.

You looked up at Dieter and saw him watching his hand with an astonished look on his face. “W-why are you making that face?” You whimpered softly as Dieter chuckled. “Can feel my dick through your stomach, gorgeous.” He licked his lips. “Fuck. Let me keep you, baby. Please.” He begged, looking from your stomach to your eyes.

“Wanna be able to fuck this pretty pussy whenever I want to. God.” He dropped his head back for a second and snapped his hips harder into you. “Gonna let me? Please, please, please.” He moaned and pressed his hand harder against your stomach, making you whimper and scream his name as that coil in your stomach snapped and heat spread across your body, legs tightening around Dieter to pull him closer.

“Fuck- yes, Dieter. Don’t ever wanna stop doing this.” You whined and arched your back. Dieter gasped softly and moaned before leaning down and kissing you eagerly, moaning and pushing his tongue into your mouth as he came, pushing deep inside you as his muscles shook.

You slid your arms through the jacket and wrapped them tightly around Dieter’s middle to keep him close, nudging his nose against your cheek before covering you in kisses and little licks like he was a kitten.

You laid like that for a while, Dieter keeping himself hovered over you as he smothered you in kisses. Slowly, he moved off of you and laid next to you, laying on his side so he can look at you, a dopey smile on his face.

You felt a little awkward under his stare, slowly starting to fold your arms over your chest until he stopped you, grabbing your arms and pulling you close to him, kissing your knuckles. “Did you mean it?” He asked curiously and you looked at him, furrowing your brows. “About moving to Sherman Oaks with me.” He lifted on his elbow, looking down at you a little giddy as his fingertips drew patterns on your stomach, trailing up your chest and to your neck before grabbing it lightly at the sides.

“Want you to move in with me. Be my little housewife.” He bit his lip as he ran his eyes over your face, he looked a little nervous. You swallowed thickly, opening and closing your mouth before you nodded slowly.

“Okay.” You said softly. The idea of living with Dieter did seem nice, especially if this was something that was going to happen on any kind of basis, day to day or otherwise. “I wanna live with you.”

He perked up and grinned widely. “Yeah?” He shifted so he was sitting up now, his hand pressed down against your collarbone as you laughed softly and nodded, cheeks warm. “Yeah.”

Dieter grinned and leaned in to kiss you deeply, you yelped a little and giggled as you kissed him back, closing his eyes and laying your hands on his cheeks. “Good.” He laid beside you again, pulling you tight against his side as he nuzzled your neck, slinging his other arm around you and hugging you tightly.

You didn’t peg him for the cuddling type, though now that you were wrapped up in the octopus-like limbs of Dieter Bravo, it made sense he would cling to you like this, physical touch seemed to be a big thing for him, something he was always craving.

On some sort of sub-level you understood, being an only child with parents that would rather work and drop you with nannies you knew all about not getting the love and affection children craved and required.

Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

Maybe you and Dieter could be good for eachother.

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Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

[thenwhatthefukcisthis]

another unwanted analyses of “go to sleep mr eames” scene that no one asked for :

this is directly inspired by the post @mister-eames made about eames learning about stein job projections

we know arthur is an immensely capable human who probably doesn’t like someone nitpicking about his job or giving him instructions. he was defending everyone at warehouse without missing a beat after learning the new situation and its stakes and despite not dreaming bigger, he was equipped enough to keep an angry swarm of projections at bay.

So what if.. what if eames never planned to say any thing to arthur if he hadn’t heard about the stein job? the projections of who knew who the dreamer was and was actually hunting him down? like.. what if eames took his time to give those assurance to arthur cause he knew how badly arthur hated was scared of those projections? the same projections who were even more aggressive and violent and were ready to tear arthur into pieces?

(I feel like the fact that the exchange was supposed to initially be between cobb and arthur also supports this? cobb knew who exactly will be at second level dealing with those projections alone and he still went ahead with mr Charles debacle. and there really wasn’t any other plan or way out so it’s understandable that he took that risk. So he was just making sure arthur knew he was sorry and conveying his good luck in the process)

but ultimately it was eames who knew arthur would kneel down beside him, in guise of an unnecessary task, and would caress his hand and lets him know that he would want his other half to know that he knows how difficult and hard leading those projections on a merry ride is. Eames knew that arthur then would smile the smile knowing that even though he was scared, he loved eames more, compelling him be back before the kick.

[cleighwrites]

Drabble ask...

In honour of being back after a break how about some fluff with one Sam Winchester, seeing each other after a long time apart, platonic or romantic, dealers choice.

Thank you so much!! I'm glad to be in a headspace that allows me to write for these guys again! And what a great prompt! I'm a little rusty writing short things, and maybe fluff as well, so excuse the length (944 words) and the not-quite-tooth-rotting fluff! lol

Drabble beneath the cut for tl cleanliness!

Sam walked into the diner, palms sweaty and heart racing. He did his cursory scan of the room, identifying potential threats and points of entry/exit. It took him a moment to see you, sitting in the back corner booth facing the door. 

Your hair was longer than he remembered. It suited you. As soon as your eyes met, he couldn’t help his smile. He hadn’t meant for it to be so long since you’d seen each other, but the job was the job and it kept them away for longer and longer each time he left. 

Of course, it didn’t have to. He could tell Dean about you; he’d make it a point to drive through town more often. For some reason, he was obsessed with him getting some. It had been close with Sarah in New York, but still, she wasn’t you. 

“Hey,” Sam said as he approached the booth, a wary smile on his lips. 

“Hey yourself,” you said in return, eyeing him; likely noticing that his hair had gotten longer too. 

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”

You nod, eyes sliding from him to your cup of coffee. Sam was sure you were lying to spare him but said nothing. 

“Have you ordered yet?” 

You bit your bottom lip, a lip he knew well and couldn’t wait to get another taste of; if that was even in the cards anymore. He’d likely blown it this time, eight months was a long time. 

Just in time to save from any lingering awkwardness, the server arrived. 

“I’ll take water and a cobb salad, and…” he paused looking at you. “A BLT?” he asked, unsure if that was still your go-to brunch order.

“Yeah,” you said to the server. “Extra bacon, with fries,” you added.

 After the server walked away he took a deep, settling breath and smiled at you again. He couldn’t help it, seeing you again was a relief. He felt as if he’d been holding his breath for eight months, only to be able to breathe again knowing you were safe and at least willing to see him again. 

“So how’ve—” you both started at the same time. You both laugh. 

“You first,” he said, motioning for you to continue.

“I was just going to ask how you’ve been. How’s Dean, and the… job?” you add low, so no one overhears you. 

“Dean is Dean,” he said with a shrug. “And work is…exhausting.” Sam let out a long sigh. He could always tell you the truth. “I’ve been alright. You know, it was never something I wanted to get back into, but… he needs me.” Sam could feel the expression on his face morph into what Dean called his kicked-puppy-look.

You reached forward and grabbed Sam’s hand, surprising him slightly. Your tiny hand wrapped around his fingers and squeezed them tightly. 

“You’re a good man, Sam,” you told him. “Not many people would go back to a life they left, especially not after what happened with…” your voice trails off. 

“Yeah,” Sam answered, clearing his throat. He took another breath and rubbed his thumb along the back of your smooth knuckles. You had always been so soft, he couldn’t get enough of it. 

You sat staring into each other’s eyes for a long moment, then the server came back with your order. Breaking eye contact with you was a physical effort for him. He was elated that you could still share words you’d never be able to speak aloud with a single look. 

While you ate, you told him about a new job you’d started since he’d last come through town. It was more in line with what you’d studied in school, so you were happy with it. And he was happy that you’d found something that you loved to do. 

He wondered briefly what it would have been like for the two of you if he’d finished school. What sort of law he would have gone into, what level he’d be at in a firm by this point. Would y’all have a house yet, or would you be renting in the city? Would he have proposed yet? Losing Jess had been traumatic for the both of you, but you’d helped get him through it. Emailing for months while he was off hunting the yellow-eyed demon responsible for her death. 

You cleared your throat, pulling him from his thoughts. “You back with me?” you asked. 

Sam smiled again, muttered a small, “Sorry,” and then took another bite of his salad. 

Once you’d finished eating, you sat for a little longer, waiting for change from the server, just taking each other in. He couldn’t help notice how light and happy you were. He hoped it was because of him, but he was too chicken shit to ask if you were seeing anyone else. A small part of his hoped that you were; that you were taken care of and not waiting around for him to breeze through town again. 

You reach across the table again and he reaches back, taking your hand in his. “You wanna get outta here?” 

“That’d be great.” 

Once you’re outside, you walk down the street a little ways, away from the diner windows. At the corner of the sidewalk, you pull him in close and look up at him expectantly. He smiled down at you, then leaned down, meeting you halfway in a chaste kiss. 

Having your lips pressed to his once more was just what he needed. You kissed him back greedily, begging for him to deepen the kiss. Sam happily responded with vigor, pleased that you still wanted him after all this time.

[sketchy-rosewitch]

Hii!!

I wondering how they react about his high energy S/O suddenly sleep all day and never get up once until tomorrow morning.(like will they worry or just think nothing? Or they will sleep with S/O?)

And I want Bo Sinclair and Bobby Cobb thanks!!

Love you and hope you have a lovely day~💕

You have an amazing day too!!! Thank you for Requesting! Very fun prompt to write.

Warnings: None?

Bo Sinclair x gn!reader

-

You getting up was never is a problem for Bo. You’d always be up before him or at the same time ready to talk his ear off, make him breakfast and help him around town to clean things up or repair stuff. Sometimes he’d wish you would shut up or stop talking just for a minute. A few times he has snapped at you, didn’t really apologize with words but still hugged you or said you could start talking again. He couldn’t admit it but he loved how you had anything and everything to talk about. How much you moved around and how you never seemed to want to stop even when you needed to. You were quite literally an unstoppable force.

Today though, you seemed to have stopped. You didn’t get up with Bo, he went to check on you but didn’t want to wake you. Maybe for once you were so exhausted you needed the extra sleep. That was okay with him, except sleeping through the morning turned into sleeping through the afternoon. During lunch Bo checked on you again.

Bo he didn’t wake you again. He couldn’t. You looked peaceful.

Afternoon turned into evening and Bo finally touched you, you skin didn’t feel hot or clammy. There’s no way you were sick. What the hell was wrong with you?

Selfishly he shakes you, he keeps shaking you until you wake up groggily.

“Honey Cake. Hey, you’ve been asleep all day are you alright?” He asks, his brows furrow, you nod your head tiredly.

“Yeah baby, I was just tired. Is it okay if we just lay down? I don’t wanna get up today.” You explain. Bo lets out a small sigh of relief.

“Yeah baby. I can bring up some snacks and water if you’d like.”

You nod your head and turn to his side. He does just what you agreed to and then lays down next to you in bed. You eat and drink water before knocking out again. This time Bo is cuddled up close to you.

The next day was back to normal. You talk Bo’s ear off as the two of you clean one of the abandoned convenience stores in Ambrose and Bo smiles realizing how much he missed you talking and moving around yesterday.

-

Bobby Cobb

The two of you are like a fireball in the sky. Lots of energy flows through the two of you. Everyone swears you feed off of each other like plants and animals do to each other.

Constant talking, roughhousing, drinking, and sex are musts with the two of you. Your friends confirmed that when Jukes said the two of you also talk and kick around in your sleep (which explains the unknown bruising always on each other).

You never struggled to get up and get moving, Bobby usually did, but once he was going, he was gone, really the two of you were gone.

Today though, was different. Bobby got up around 12. You weren’t even up yet, he shrugged and laid in bed longer, not caring about lazing around. Whatever his significant other wanted to do he was down for.

Except he started to get bored. He didn’t want to be rude and wake you though. So he quietly got up, took Dog Travis for a small walk and came back with some burritos.

Yet you still weren’t up.

Bobby’s anxiety then started going crazy. He checked for a pulse, you were still alive. Then he called Jules to ask how to tell if someone was sick. Bobby then checked if you were sick. You weren’t.

Eventually his anxiety got the better of him and he shook you awake.

You shot up out of the bed looking around frantically.

“Are you okay Nugget?!” Bobby asks, you look him up and down.

“Yeah! Why’d you wake me? Is something wrong?” You sit back on the bed. Bobby looks over at the clock.

“It’s almost 2. You’re never asleep for this long. Was just checking to see if you were alright. I brought you a burrito.” Your boyfriend points over to his table.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Just felt tired is all.” You yawn, already starting to lay back down.

“Oh, okay. Let’s just lay back down then yeah Nugget?”

You nod and he wraps his arms around you snuggling into you as the two of you sleep the rest of the day away.

[vvitchering]

Cobb getting out of bacta tank containment and promptly filling tf out because he finally has access to enough food and water for the first time in his life. Finding out he wasn’t tired and worn out all the time because he was getting too old to be marshal, it was because he was living in a town never sure when it’s next delivery of food and water was coming. He was getting by on much fewer calories and less water than everyone else because less in his mouth meant more in someone else’s. He was having spotchka for dinner most nights. Now with his town under the new daimyo’s direct protection and a couple weeks of good filling meals under his belt, Cobb looks and feels like he’s in his thirties again.

And of course Boba notices. He’s the one who personally flew supplies out to Freetown the first time Cobb refused food because no way was he eating steak while his people needed water.

He’s watched the marshal slowly and stubbornly claw his way back from the brink of death, from the loss of a limb, to where he is now: practically glowing with health and in the best spirits he’s been in since maybe ever.

Cobb was attractive before. He’s got kind eyes and an honest smile and a not very well-hidden feral side that comes from living his sort of life. There wasn’t an ounce extra on him when they brought him in. There was a lot of speculation on whether his body had the resources to bounce back at all.

Subjected to the full force of the man’s personality, the attraction only grew. Cobb might be the only other person Boba has met who’s as much of a stubborn bastard as he is. He hates to lose, hates to feel like anything is out of his control, and that’s something Boba is intimately familiar with.

Now that he doesn’t look like a strong breeze would send him flying anymore, Boba is having a hard time focusing on much else during their sparring practice. Cobb’s artificial arm had to be resculpted recently to match the progress he’s made on his remaining flesh and blood arm. He’ll always be on the leaner side, it’s just how he’s built, but the muscle he’s packed on and honed is impressive.

He’s been learning close combat skills with Fennec. It’s helped him become more comfortable with his new arm and been a productive way to work out his frustrations at being essentially trapped while he continues to heal. He still gets his ass kicked up and down the length of the training hall on a regular basis, but he’s improving.

Fennec taps out after an hour or so and leaves the wrap-up to Boba most days. Which means he gets Cobb when he’s at his sweatiest and most eager to prove himself. Boba is beginning to think Fen does this on purpose.

Cobb gets closer and closer to scoring a hit on Boba every day. It’s rewarding to see he and Fennec have made a difference in this man’s life. And maybe a different kind of rewarding to watch him swipe strands of damp silver hair out of his face and smile crookedly when Boba calls a stop for the evening.