#I thought I avoided this when I managed to get through my first campaign last summer without developing The Fixation

[shorlinesorrows]

not me finally developing an inevitable dnd hyperfixation when I have enormous amounts of work to do

[finnfrei]

Hope you don't mind me asking again of your bard and her dragonborn? 😅

It’s getting hard to refuse a chance to rant about them, especially now as we have finished the campaign🌝

I keep thinking about this one scene after Clio got back from an adventure that almost became the party’s last one. They got to meet the gods of their realm or those who claimed to be ones. One of them turned out to be her sister’s patron, the other unwillingly caused vivid nightmares that were haunting Clio for more than five years reminding her about the assault she and her sister barely survived. Our oathbreaker paladin also had a time of his life meeting the god he used to serve. The party almost died there trying to prevent the destruction of their civilisation and death of everyone they love along with it. Her sister did die in a way there.

After killing some gods and saving the world, learning and surviving things she couldn’t even begin to comprehend, Clio got back home to the Iron City. She stormed to an ongoing council meeting in an iconic Aragorn at Helm’s Deep fashion, telling the story about what they’ve been through, explaining the recent global calamity and how they’ve managed to stop it. The utter awe on faces of other members of the council, including Hescan’s, brought bard the satisfaction she was seeking. Clio couldn’t quite grasp it but something was different about the way her chief looked at her. Last time she saw him he told her he was falling deep for her… or it was just a fever she had then, she couldn’t tell, she wasn’t sure. The man she was talking to through the communication ring during the adventure seemed to be the same unbothered and cold Dragonborn she knows for a few years now. Something shifted and for the first time she felt her hands sweating in his presence.

…

“I could’ve actually lost you this time,” he said in a quieter voice when they were finally alone and she noticed the slight shiver in chief’s voice. Clio’s heart clenched in her chest, he meant it. He worried about her.

That evening and the night that came after he was gentle, caring. That was new. Of course, he always made sure not to hurt her, unless she wanted to, but he never really expressed his affection like that. Not that it was unpleasant, it surprised and puzzled her.

…

“I was thinking…” he stumbled during a pillow talk a few hours later, “you know���maybe we should start spending more time together?”. She could’ve sworn she saw a blush coming through those emerald scales of his.

“I need to talk to you,” she sighed feeling tense and set up on the edge of the bed.

Hescan stood up, got around the bed, poured and passed a goblet of wine to the girl also taking one for himself.

“You know,” she started, “I believed my twin was dead there for some time. We had a huge fight right before that. All I could think about were things I should’ve told her or done and would never get a chance to.”

Hescan set quietly on his knees on the floor across from his little spy and was looking up at Clio as she proceeded, “And then I thought, what if we fail the whole “world saving” thing and I will never get to see you again. There’re things I regret I haven’t told you.” she stopped, trying to regain composure, “I have met someone,” she said avoiding looking at him at first, “He’s wonderful. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so safe and peaceful with anyone before.”

She could see the tension, anger and confusion building in his face.

“I feel seen. He looked into me and managed to bring back the girl even I believed was long gone, hiding under the myriad of different masks. He listens and he hears every word I say,” she smiles feeling already embarrassed of what she’s going to say next, “And despite all the common sense, I… I trust him.”

“What…” Hescan utters quietly, breaking the silence that filled the room. The look of anger, pain and the sticky feeling of betrayal washing over him.

“I trust him,” she repeats, “and I trust him my heart. I trust he will take good care of it.” Clio reaches with her hand and gently touches Dragonborn’s chest over his heart as she asks softly, “You will take care of it for me, wouldn’t you?”

The girl was waiting for a moment, watching as the anger on Hescan’s face changed to confusion and then the sparkle in his eyes as he glanced back at her when realisation finally hit him.

“I’m going to kill you!” he growled as he pounced at her, pushing her back on the soft bed. The girl giggled in his strong embrace, feeling the pressure of his body over hers.

“I need to hear it, my heart” she pleaded, pushing him away just enough to look him in the eyes.

He smiled softly and whispered, “I love you.” as he gently bit the arch of her neck, “you’re safe,” he followed with a kiss.

[jeannereames]

You already wrote it like twice lol so I apologize for bringing it up again… but if you were to rewrite the final scene of Rise once more but from Philippos’s POV… what would you envision his final thoughts to have been when he’s killed? Or, I'm not sure if he would have even been capable of having any by that point, but, for imagination's sake really :)

Below are my thoughts about Philippos’s mindset at the time.

Before I get to that, for anyone wondering what the asker is talking about, my website for Dancing with the Lion has several “out-takes” (scenes cut from the novels), plus a few scenes (and one short story) that take place in the c. 10 months between book 1 and book 2.

Among these is a rewrite of Rise's last scene, originally done in Alexandros’s head, seen from Hephaistion’s POV. (Click image)

(Fair warning, and it probably goes without saying, but while the first set can be read after finishing Becoming, the second set should wait until you’ve finished Rise, as they naturally contain spoilers.)

So, first, at the parade’s start, Philippos would still be irked with Alexandros after their quarrel over (ironically) Pausanias. He said they’d continue the discussion later, after telling Alexandros his choices were about managing difficult personalities, especially when they’re about to be away from Macedon for some years.

Ergo, at the start of the parade, he would’ve been thinking about how to get through to his idealistic child that sometimes full justice must take a back seat to avoiding interminable blood feuds. He’d probably also have been hoping he’d live until Alexandros was more mature. He’d not be thinking assassination, of course. They’re about to embark on a serious military campaign to Persia, and Macedonian kings often died with their boots on. He’s in his mid/late 40s, his leg is lame and he’s not as fast as he used to be. He could fall in battle.

This isn’t overly morbid. These are pretty normal thoughts (ime) for parents of teens, and Alexandros is still, effectively, a teen, even if he just turned 20. You just hope the inevitable blunders of adolescence are none so bad they die before the neurons in their frontal cortexes finish fusing. Not that the Greeks understood adolescent neurology, but they certainly understood teenaged hotheadedness. And Alexandros (and the real Alexander) were more hotheaded than most. After all, how many times did his own bravery almost get him killed?

So that would’ve been on Philippos’s mind in the immediate aftermath of their quarrel, but it wouldn’t be the first time—I’m sure it was a well-worn grove of worry—so he’d have kicked it off once the parade started. After that, right up until the moment he was stabbed, he was having a great morning. It was truly his triumph. That’s the irony of his death … and why Pausanias picked that event.

Historically speaking, it seems he was stabbed in the back, or perhaps from the side, so I doubt he saw it coming—or who stabbed him. Now, we get into a bit of speculation and back to my fictional take. I wrote it so that he died almost immediately. Pausanias was a soldier, and even with a cloak in the way, he could find the heart fairly accurately, I think. (Whether this was true in history, we don’t actually know. The historical Philip may have taken a few minutes to die if Pausanias was off target by an inch or two.)

In any case, the heart is delicate. A direct wound by arrow, sword, spear, knife, bullet is almost always fatal without immediate medical intervention, due to extreme bleeding into the chest cavity. Ergo, shock takes over in under half a minute, more like 15-20 seconds.

In the novel, in those, let’s say, 20 seconds, Philippos was able to call his son’s name, and would have seen Alexandros turn and call him Pappa, reaching for him. The surprise on his son’s face would tell Philippos he wasn’t involved. Philippos would know he was a dead man, so I think it would matter to him that Alexandros wasn’t behind it.

I don’t say in the novel, but Pausanias could have whispered something in his ear at the end. I describe him as right behind the king, one hand on his elbow. Alexandros thinks he’s helping to hold his father up (not realizing the other hand had the knife). And, again, as a soldier, Pausanias would have twisted that knife, once it went in, to be sure, even if he’d hit off center, that it would do maximum damage. Then, of course, he’s off like a shot, shoving Philippos at Alexandros.

Philippos was probably still conscious enough to feel his son grab him and hear him shout, “Get him!” But after that, shock would’ve kicked in and he’d have lost consciousness. He’d look dead to Alexandros (and be as good as).

In reality, the brain still survives for a few minutes even after the heart stops. He’d no doubt have had the “life flashes before your eyes” experience. He might have felt fury at Pausanias, but largely, I think, for interrupting his plans. I suspect his main concern would be the safety of his son and of his kingdom. At the approach of death, things pare down to the most basic and most important. I doubt that included Pausanias except peripherally (probably to Pausanias’s dismay, if he knew).

So that’s my take on what Philippos probably thought at the end.

[trinuviel]

This article is hilarious! I'm going to quote the hightlights:

"WHEN I HEARD that there was going to be a Coronation Concert at Windsor Palace to celebrate the crowning of King Charles III and Queen Camilla, my first thought was: “Wow, who would voluntarily perform at that?” Some international viewers might have expected the biggest stars the U.K. has to offer, like Adele or maybe even Elton John, Harry Styles, Dua Lipa or Ed Sheeran. But no, instead the baton seemed to fall primarily to people whose management didn’t get the memo that this was the most uncool gig ever: Americans!

Yup, it turns out that there is only one thing more undignified than British people who are completely obsessed with Monarchy: hardcore American royalists. People whose nation was supposedly founded on completely opposing principles but, somehow, have flown across the Atlantic to show fealty to our King anyway.

...

Sunday’s Coronation Concert did feature some British people, of course. Prince William took time out from the smear campaign against his brother and sister-in-law to do a heartfelt speech in support of his father, which was good of him, I suppose. 

...

Elsewhere, there was an attempt to make the concert feel more high-art and distinctly British by including performances from pretty much everything with “royal” in the title, like the various ballet, Shakespeare, and opera societies the royals are patrons of. By contrast, it was the sketches and linking videos played in between the acts which felt most out of place: Miss Piggy and Kermit the Frog joined host Downton Abbey star Hugh Bonneville, who at times looked like he was being held hostage at the event. One of the videos shown on the big screen featured Tom Cruise in a jet, telling his Majesty the King that he can be his “wingman” any day, which made me question whether I’d accidentally taken a tab of acid.

...

These pre-recorded segments were where the royal propaganda — designed for the thoroughly King-pilled — was at its most intense. Saying it was “like North Korea” would be not only lazy but also inaccurate because, really, North Korea wishes it was at the U.K.’s level here. A key theme of these bizarre videos was “Did You Know?”, which manifested as a bunch of celebrities — all of whom were clearly desperate to lick the boot hard enough to be made Knights and Dames — queuing up to tell us various complimentary “facts” about the new King. The most undignified of these was probably award-winning artist Tracey Emin, who sat with one of King Charles’s watercolor paintings and tried to suggest it was some sort of artistic feat.

...

After this, we got to the heaviest musical hitters of the evening. Lionel Richie had even the stony-faced royals (minus Prince Andrew, who must have been enjoying a sweat-free evening elsewhere) on their feet dancing. Even Queen Camilla — who seemed bored and was checking her watch every time the camera panned to her — looked like she was briefly enjoying “All Night Long.”

...

As this bizarre and strangely entertaining concert came to a close, we were subjected to a three-song medley by the Final Boss of royal events: Take That. Again, for the unfamiliar: Take That were once a five-piece British boy band who rose to fame in the 1990s, before mounting a huge comeback in the mid-2000s. Now, they play concert tours to stadiums of screaming mothers and grandmothers, and are wheeled out for every royal event, where they look and sound progressively worse each time. Last night, there were only three of them, so by the time we get to Prince William’s coronation it’ll probably just be frontman Gary Barlow creaking and croaking around the stage. 

Barlow — a supporter of the U.K. Conservative party — apologized in 2014 after trying to save millions in an “aggressive” tax avoidance scheme. I wonder whether that makes him the perfect performer to close a concert for a King whose vast wealth is partly upheld through exemptions from tax laws that only apply to his subjects. Perhaps it does, because this concert — like the Coronation and Monarchy itself — was a bewilderingly positive and expensive celebration of the belief that we are not all born equal."

[bakeryblood]

vampire eddie, biting kink, some sort of handcuff usage. go nuts.

Take It Easy

Pt. 1

Vampire!Eddie Munson x Male Reader

cw: Alcohol, Angst, Depression, Blood

Y/N shifted the van into park before pulling the keys out of the ignition. Starting out at the seemingly abandoned trailer home Wayne Munson and his Nephew used to reside in. Every time, every week you came it was always the same. The same melancholy mixed with existential dread washed over your body as you grabbed your bag and hopped out of the drivers seat, quickly heading up the short flight of stairs and creaking open the metal door.

No hats lined the walls anymore, no collection of mugs on display. Wayne had taken anything and everything of sentimental value out of the trailer when he left months ago. The day he finished packing and you’d come by as you always did he stopped filling the box and walked over to you.

“Y/N..please stop coming here…He’s not coming back.” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing but as you watched the older gentleman’s resolve crumble and a tear fell from his eye you knew he was just tired of waiting and hoping that Eddie would burst through that door one night. He’d missed too much work and sleep in the last weeks and he just couldn’t stay there anymore.

You bit your lip as you looked up at the tear in the roof, insulation where the black vines used to fill the space. There were still marks on the ceiling that reminded you of burns, stretching out, making vein like patterns. Wayne took your hand and placed something small and cold into it tearing you from your thoughts as you looked down at the set of keys, quickly looking back at him and shaking your head.

“Wayne, I can’t.”

“You can and you will Y/N. Along with anything else in his room, take it. The apartment doesn’t even have enough room for most of my things..he’d rather you have it than..” He trailed off with a shuttered breath, unable to finish his thought process of taking his missing nephew’s belongings to a donation center. Y/N wanted to cry but it was as if they’d run out of tears as they felt their face get hot, going into his room was so painful he could understand Wayne preferring someone else handle the task.

Walking over to the dresser that had sheets with music and lyrics written on them, notebooks with his future campaign plans. You couldn’t read anymore. You didn’t want to continue to test your body’s ability to not break down again, but as you went and sat on the untouched bed still as messy as the last day he’d managed to pull himself out of it. You leant over and hid your face in your arms as you heard the loud noise of the box tape being stretched out and placed on the seam of the cardboard box.

________________________________________

Dust flies into the air as the old Chevy van barreled down the dirt driveway of the trailer park, the couple sitting outside of their RV hollering at the driver to ‘slow the fuck down’, that there’s kids that live here despite it being close to midnight at that point.

As Y/N stepped out and slammed the car door he looked towards the flickering out of season Christmas lights and raised the hand that wasn’t holding a six-pack of beers connected at the top by rings of plastic and flipped them the bird before making his way up to the trailer, almost tripping up the steps and bursting through the door face first, thankfully catching himself before swinging it open after a moment of struggling to get it open. It always had a habit of sticking, Wayne or Eddie would usually spray the hinges and latch with WD-40 both to avoid forcing it and to keep from disturbing the other’s sleep schedule as they tended to sleep and come home at opposite times.

The old woman looked over at her husband as he tossed another old newspaper into the small fire they had in the pit in front of them. “Been a while since anyone lived there, should we ring the police?”

Her husband scoffed and shook his head. “You old bat, that’s Wayne’s place. Either it’s one of his boys friends or another shit bird coming to use it to smoke dope. Either way, it ain’t our business..” His wife glared at his insult before standing up and pulling her robe around herself in a comforting fashion. It was true that she’d forgotten, but seeing that van pull in like a bat out of hell did seem to jog her memory.

Three months. Y/N closed and locked the trailer door behind him as he walked in and assessed the condition of a place he used to spend so much time at. Taking his lighter out of his pocket he flicked it open and the small amount of light was enough to illuminate the space of the living room and some of kitchen. Dust particles along with what was likely airborne insulation floated around as he walked around looking at the graffiti littering the walls.

‘Hawkins Local Freak: Missing’

A debatably badly drawn pentagram in red spray paint. Y/N chuckled softly and shook his head as he went to the kitchen bar and placed his beer down before pulling one from the plastic. “Never were many people as creative as you where Eddie. Not here anyway..” Y/N popped the tab on the can and tossed it back, flicking his lighter closed as he felt it begin to heat up passed a point of comfortable holding as he slammed the first beer of that pack.

This wasn’t a regular hobby of his, racing as fast as he could towards getting black out drunk. In the last six months he’d only drank one other time over at Steve’s house and quickly excused himself to go sleep off the alcohol in their bed while he kept himself company. Tonight just seemed right for it. Since Wayne abandoned the place he spent a couple months visiting the home, spending time with what items of Eddie’s he’d left there. His guitar for one. Occasionally he would see that the curtain in the window had been moved to the side, bunched up slightly and he’d rush inside to find no signs anyone had really been there.

Eddie had been a big influence in Hawkins, both good and bad. The kids looked up to him so much and missed the head of hellfire dearly whilst others still considered it a good thing he had ‘skipped town’ after the cult leader accusations arose. Y/N knew he would have wanted him to do everything he could to look after Dustin, keep Steve from teachin’ him wrong. He knew he would have wanted you to take his campaign notes and keep hellfire alive.

But you failed. You gave up. You dropped out of school and slowly allowed yourself to drift away from the teens, unable to keep hearing their concerned voices as they asked you if you were okay almost every day. You could read them just as well as they could read you. They knew you weren’t okay and you knew they didn’t believe you when you said you were.

“I’m sorry Eddie..I miss you so fucking much..” Y/N leaned over on to the counter they had kept a hand on as to not get lost in the dark and they rocked. As unhealthy as it had been for him to continue to hold out hope, he felt so empty now. Like Eddie would have really let him have it if they saw him now. ‘Drinking is supposed to be fun you idiot.’

‘Wow, six months and you give up on me?’

Y/N wiped his eyes and felt for the wet, condensation covered cans of beer as he desperately held onto those thoughts. Their voice was still fresh in his mind. ‘Look on the bright side, at least you got to keep all my cool shit!’ Y/N grabbed his lighter after popping the top on the can and headed off for the bedroom, which was surprisingly in much better condition. Where the living room had been littered with cans, bottles and cigarette butts stomped out into the carpet Eddie’s room seemed untouched.

Considering how many of the people who detested him were all talk, more likely to be fearful of what might happen if they actually happened to run across the man who had been missing for the last six months, it wasn’t all that surprising. The bed was still as Y/N had left it on one of his many visits, making up the sheets. Besides his books, notes and stereo you had left everything else. Walking over to the rack of cassette tapes you set the open lighter on the tall dresser and left for your Walkman in your pocket before squinting to read the messily scribbled band names on the mixtapes.

‘1983-1986’ Pretty straight to the point for Eddie who tended to label his tapes with a silly name or label the vibe to them unless it was an actual bands tape he bought. Y/N stuck the cassette in his Walkman and slipped the headset off his neck and atop his head, listening as he looked over his shelves of things, cigar boxes he used for different little items. Movie ticket stubs, jewelry, the occasional banished DnD die or photograph.

Opening one that seemed to sit on top, first thing his eyes landed on was a tiny bag of white powder. Y/N’s head dropped as he sat the box down and picked the baggy up, rolling his thumb over the top of it. The light from his lighter disappeared as it fell over and Y/N stood up quickly from his crouched position next to the bookshelf, hands stretched out to feel his way until a faint red glow shown through the cracked bedroom door just enough for him to see his silver lighter laying on its side atop the dresser.

Y/N looked from it to the bedroom door and after pocketing it he slowly made his way over, stopping only for a moment to grab Eddie’s baseball bat from his very brief stent of little league that sat behind his door whenever it was open. Held at his side as he walked down the wall trepidation building more and more the brighter the red tint seemed to get. Like he had been transported into a photographers darkroom. It was the gate.

Y/N’s breath caught in his chest as he stared it down, part of him wanting to rush out and tell the others. So they could bring Eleven to close it. But the rest of him fought against those thought, what if he was still in there? Y/N felt the tears begin to bubble up in his eyes once again as he made his way to stand under it, gripping the metal beer can in his hand tightly before tossing it up through the portal as hard as he could as the track on the tape clicked to the next song, ‘Master of Puppets’. He couldn’t take this anymore.

Y/N ripped the Walkman from his pocket taking the headset with it and threw it against the wall of the trailer affectively smashing it to pieces as he screamed in anger. Crying was no longer enough for him to regulate his emotions, hell, it had never seemed to do much anyway. “Fuck you! Fuck you Eddie! You damn bastard! You always talked about being a coward, why couldn’t you just run!” Y/N held the sides of his head, the level of their own voice gave a headache the opportunity to start forming.

As he couched down holding himself he heard something that caused him to slowly pull his hands away from their face, uncovering their ears as they slowly turned their head in the direction of the kitchen. It had sounded like something or, someone, had opened and closed the fridge that sat currently inoperational given the trailer didn’t have electricity currently running to it. It was hard to make out anything for certain with the red cast over everything, shadows seemed darker.

“Well damn Y/N, tell me how you really feel.” Snapping their face forward at the voice coming from above them, they were finally ready to admit, they had lost it.

Eddie Munson, in all his glory, wasn’t just there in front of them. Being alive would have been enough to make them faint, but the fact that he had been levitating momentarily. You watched, shaking slightly as he slowly lowered to the floor. His black boots leaving soot and ash on the already filthy carpet as he stared down at you. “Y-You’re…alive?”

He attempted to suppress a smile as he tilted his head back and forth, his dirty hair, crunchy with dried blood swaying as he did. “I wouldn’t say that.” Y/N’s eyes scanned him over in more detail. Taking in his torn, blood stained hellfire shirt, he’d lost his outside layers they had left him there in, his bandana was tied around his neck and his injuries were healed from what you could tell.

Y/N scrambled up off the floor and leaned in closer to him causing Eddie to recoiled a few steps back as the young man made his advances. How fucking dare he. You didn’t care if this was a hallucination or what but this version of Eddie wasn’t going to just run away from you. “You— Piece of shit! Come here!” Y/N grabbed their arm and quickly pulled their hand away. He had heard the Byers youngest child talk about the upside down and how he felt like he never could quiet shake the cold it left him with.

But this was different. If you had ever once had the opportunity to feel a cadavers skin that’s what it must’ve felt like. Frozen. “Y/N..” You were now the one backing away from them. This wasn’t real.. And if it was, it wasn’t Eddie.

“You aren’t real..”

Eddie feigned a hurt expression and held up his arm, dirty with black marks. “You felt me, I’m here. I’m real.” Y/N shook his head as he felt his lower back press against the edge of the kitchen counter that separated one area from the other. “This is a sick joke my mind is playing on me. I’m..”

Eddie seemed to grow irritated at the notion that he was just a figment of your imagination. Three months alone in that hellscape and the first chance he got to escape this was his welcome home party? “I’m sorry I couldn’t do better for you Ed, I’m sorry I let them leave you there.”

In a split second he was on you, it almost was like the counter shook from the force of his hands coming into contact with it to stop himself. “Y/N, you’ve been my friend since middle school. I’m back now, so save the obituary, please.” He growled as your eyes were locked onto each others. That was true, you had been friends since middle school, and this was the first time Munson ever had made the hair on the back of your stand up.

You saw him give a hard swallow before pushing himself back off the counter and walking away from you again, he seemed like he wanted to keep a solid eight feet between you at all times. You just couldn’t do that, despite how filthy he was the moment your brain accepted the fact that he was truly there you rushed him, wrapping your arms around him as he threw his up in the air. “Y/N, stop. You need to get off of me.”

“Save it Munson, you can yell at me later.” You pressed your face against his neck and it was the same as his arm, though perhaps the shock in the moment made your senses exaggerate the feeling.

“Y/N…Why do you think that place suddenly let me leave like it did?” You lifted your shoulders in a shrug, letting them drop back to normal as he slowly let his hands creep up you, one resting on your lower back and the other coming up to rest between your shoulder blades. “It’s because it wanted me to..”

“I don’t care Eddie, that’s so far from being important right now. I don’t care how you made it out, you’re here now.” You we’re so scared if you pulled away he would just disappear. Proving to be a hallucination after all. The silence between you was so loud until Eddie finally spoke up again.

“Y/N..I’m sorry…” You lifted your head up to look at him before you felt the sharp pain of him biting into the crook of your neck, sharp teeth sinking into it you were the consistency of an apple. You grabbed a handful of his hair and surprisingly it was quite easy to pull him off of your neck, although not a comfortable feeling. Reaching up to guard the bleeding wound you stared at him in disbelief as he breathed heavily, standing there as if he was torn between making a break for it and leaping upon you like a wild animal.

“Y-you bit me!” You looked over at the front door before making a few long, quick strides for it. The wet, warm sensation of the blood slicking your hand as the man stayed where he was, licking his bottom lip as he watched you begin your attempt to leave.

“I told you to back off didn’t I?” As you pulled the handle a few times, cursing as you pulled your bloody hand off your neck to use both of them on the ‘stupid jammed piece of shit door’ until you felt him on you again, pressing himself against your back and your front against the cold metal trailer door. “Don’t make me force this, I don’t want it to hurt more than it has to—“

“Stop it! This is one of your horror comics Eddie, you don’t need—“ His hand went to the back of your head, pressing the side of your face it against the door roughly as he moved his face beside yours growling before speaking.

“Because you know what this feels like? To feel absolutely nothing for fuck knows how long and finally after getting back your skin begins to crawl.” He clenched his jaw as he nuzzled his head against yours. “Begging you to give in to your new instincts in exchange for saving you from death, you know that feeling?” He didn’t want to do it to you, out of anyone not you. But you were here. You were so warm. He could smell the remnants of cologne on your skin and the beer on your breath. He could taste the ethanol in your blood.

“Then..fucking doing it..” Perhaps under different circumstances, when his mind wasn’t overtaken by the need to feed, he would have hesitated. Lacing his fingers into your hair he gave your head a tug to the side to better expose the mark he had made earlier, giving you a small taste of payback for yanking him off of you the way you had.

As he took up the space again, mouth working over the wound you couldn’t help but allow yourself to feel a sense of hedonistic pleasure from it. Adrenaline fought the pain back while your touch starved skin was ravaged by him, once the first mark at clotted he bit down again. You only had yourself to blame being the one who stopped him earlier, now in no position to do so again. You groaned in pain as he pulled out of your flesh only for a moment to come back down, doing his best to suction as much blood from the wound before lapping at it.

It wasn’t most lucrative way for him to get what he wanted but between his animalistic urges and what he had known from his horror comics you’d mentioned, it was all he knew to do in the moment. And once he had gotten enough to finally push himself away from you the both of you realized the gate had again gone dormant leaving you in the pitch black darkness once again. He could see you perfectly fine as you turned around and looked around blindly holding your tender, painful neck.

He was truly disgusted with himself, the type of shame a young boy feels the first time they touch themselves. He felt like a monster, he knew he was a monster. He wasn’t the Eddie you knew anymore and he proved it. “Eddie..?”

You felt your pockets for the lighter you’d forgotten about until then and flicked it on, holding it up as you walked forward towards the figure leaning over with his arms against the wall of the trailer, his back facing you as he attempted to heave. Before you could get close enough to reach out and touch him he spoke up. “Get the fuck away from me Y/N!”

You scoffed lightly offended at his aggressive tone, you were past being scared of him. “You already ate, Dracula. I’m not leaving you here anyways.” You had wanted to tell him to calm down, that you were the one with multiple punctures in your neck right now, but the way he was looking at you like you were the deranged one in this scenario made you hold back.

“And what, I’ll just hide in your closet during the day?” You rolled your eyes and walked over to the kitchen bar, picking up the van keys and jingling them at him. “You don’t even know if you ‘can’t go out in the sun’ yet, But I do know that you fuckin’ smell.”

[transgenderteensurvivalguide]

“Elliot Page doesn’t remember exactly how long he had been asking.

But he does remember the acute feeling of triumph when, around age 9, he was finally allowed to cut his hair short. “I felt like a boy,” Page says. “I wanted to be a boy. I would ask my mom if I could be someday.” Growing up in Halifax, Nova Scotia, Page visualized himself as a boy in imaginary games, freed from the discomfort of how other people saw him: as a girl. After the haircut, strangers finally started perceiving him the way he saw himself, and it felt both right and exciting.

The joy was short-lived. Months later, Page got his first break, landing a part as a daughter in a Canadian mining family in the TV movie Pit Pony. He wore a wig for the film, and when Pit Pony became a TV show, he grew his hair out again. “I became a professional actor at the age of 10,” Page says. And pursuing that passion came with a difficult compromise. “Of course I had to look a certain way.”

We are speaking in late February. It is the first interview Page, 34, has given since disclosing in December that he is transgender, in a heartfelt letter posted to Instagram, and he is crying before I have even uttered a question. “Sorry, I’m going to be emotional, but that’s cool, right?” he says, smiling through his tears.

It’s hard for him to talk about the days that led up to that disclosure. When I ask how he was feeling, he looks away, his neck exposed by a new short haircut. After a pause, he presses his hand to his heart and closes his eyes. “This feeling of true excitement and deep gratitude to have made it to this point in my life,” he says, “mixed with a lot of fear and anxiety.”

It’s not hard to understand why a trans person would be dealing with conflicting feelings in this moment. Increased social acceptance has led to more young people describing themselves as trans—1.8% of Gen Z compared with 0.2% of boomers, according to a recent Gallup poll—yet this has fueled conservatives who are stoking fears about a “transgender craze.” President Joe Biden has restored the right of transgender military members to serve openly, and in Hollywood, trans people have never had more meaningful time onscreen. Meanwhile, J.K. Rowling is leveraging her cultural capital to oppose transgender equality in the name of feminism, and lawmakers are arguing in the halls of Congress over the validity of gender identities. “Sex has become a political football in the culture wars,” says Chase Strangio, deputy director for transgender justice at the ACLU.

(Full article with photos continued under the “read more”)

And so Page—who charmed America as a precocious pregnant teenager in Juno, constructed dreamscapes in Inception and now stars in Netflix’s hit superhero show The Umbrella Academy, the third season of which he’s filming in Toronto—expected that his news would be met with both applause and vitriol. “What I was anticipating was a lot of support and love and a massive amount of hatred and transphobia,” says Page. “That’s essentially what happened.” What he did not anticipate was just how big this story would be. Page’s announcement, which made him one of the most famous out trans people in the world, started trending on Twitter in more than 20 countries. He gained more than 400,000 new followers on Instagram on that day alone. Thousands of articles were published. Likes and shares reached the millions. Right-wing podcasters readied their rhetoric about “women in men’s locker rooms.” Casting directors reached out to Page’s manager saying it would be an honor to cast Page in their next big movie.

So, it was a lot. Over the course of two conversations, Page will say that understanding himself in all the specifics remains a work in progress. Fathoming one’s gender, an identity innate and performed, personal and social, fixed and evolving, is complicated enough without being under a spotlight that never seems to turn off. But having arrived at a critical juncture, Page feels a deep sense of responsibility to share his truth. “Extremely influential people are spreading these myths and damaging rhetoric—every day you’re seeing our existence debated,” Page says. “Transgender people are so very real.”

That role in Pit Pony led to other productions and eventually, when Page was 16, to a film called Mouth to Mouth. Playing a young anarchist, Page had a chance to cut his hair again. This time, he shaved it off completely. The kids at his high school teased him, but in photos he has posted from that time on social media he looks at ease. Page’s head was still shaved when he mailed in an audition tape for the 2005 thriller Hard Candy. The people in charge of casting asked him to audition again in a wig. Soon, the hair was back.

Page’s tour de force performance in Hard Candy led, two years later, to Juno, a low-budget indie film that brought Page Oscar, BAFTA and Golden Globe nominations and sudden megafame. The actor, then 21, struggled with the stresses of that ascension. The endless primping, red carpets and magazine spreads were all agonizing reminders of the disconnect between how the world saw Page and who he knew himself to be. “I just never recognized myself,” Page says. “For a long time I could not even look at a photo of myself.” It was difficult to watch the movies too, especially ones in which he played more feminine roles.

Page loved making movies, but he also felt alienated by Hollywood and its standards. Alia Shawkat, a close friend and co-star in 2009’s Whip It,describes all the attention from Juno as scarring. “He had a really hard time with the press and expectations,” Shawkat says. “‘Put this on! And look this way! And this is sexy!’”

By the time he appeared in blockbusters like X-Men: The Last Stand and Inception, Page was suffering from depression, anxiety and panic attacks. He didn’t know, he says, “how to explain to people that even though [I was] an actor, just putting on a T-shirt cut for a woman would make me so unwell.” Shawkat recalls Page’s struggles with clothes. “I’d be like, ‘Hey, look at all these nice outfits you’re getting,’ and he would say, ‘It’s not me. It feels like a costume,’” she says. Page tried to convince himself that he was fine, that someone who was fortunate enough to have made it shouldn’t have complaints. But he felt exhausted by the work required to “just exist,” and thought more than once about quitting acting.

In 2014, Page came out as gay, despite feeling for years that “being out was impossible” given his career. (Gender identity and sexual orientation are, of course, distinct, but one queer identity can coexist with another.) In an emotional speech at a Human Rights Campaign conference, Page talked about being part of an industry “that places crushing standards” on actors and viewers alike. “There are pervasive stereotypes about masculinity and femininity that define how we’re all supposed to act, dress and speak,” Page went on. “And they serve no one.”

The actor started wearing suits on the red carpet. He found love, marrying choreographer Emma Portner in 2018. He asserted more agency in his career, producing his own films with LGBTQ leads like Freeheld and My Days of Mercy. And he made a masculine wardrobe a condition of taking roles. Yet the daily discord was becoming unbearable. “The difference in how I felt before coming out as gay to after was massive,” says Page. “But did the discomfort in my body ever go away? No, no, no, no.”

In part, it was the isolation forced by the pandemic that brought to a head Page’s wrestling with gender. (Page and Portner separated last summer, and the two divorced in early 2021. “We’ve remained close friends,” Page says.) “I had a lot of time on my own to really focus on things that I think, in so many ways, unconsciously, I was avoiding,” he says. He was inspired by trailblazing trans icons like Janet Mock and Laverne Cox, who found success in Hollywood while living authentically. Trans writers helped him understand his feelings; Page saw himself reflected in P. Carl’s memoir Becoming a Man. Eventually “shame and discomfort” gave way to revelation. “I was finally able to embrace being transgender,” Page says, “and letting myself fully become who I am.”

This led to a series of decisions. One was asking the world to call him by a different name, Elliot, which he says he’s always liked. Page has a tattoo that says E.P. PHONE HOME, a reference to a movie about a young boy with that name. “I loved E.T. when I was a kid and always wanted to look like the boys in the movies, right?” he says. The other decision was to use different pronouns—for the record, both he/him and they/them are fine. (When I ask if he has a preference on pronouns for the purposes of this story, Page says, “He/him is great.”)

A day before we first speak, Page will talk to his mom about this interview and she will tell him, “I’m just so proud of my son.” He grows emotional relating this and tries to explain that his mom, the daughter of a minister, who was born in the 1950s, was always trying to do what she thought was best for her child, even if that meant encouraging young Page to act like a girl. “She wants me to be who I am and supports me fully,” Page says. “It is a testament to how people really change.”

Another decision was to get top surgery. Page volunteers this information early in our conversation; at the time he posted his disclosure on Instagram, he was recovering in Toronto. Like many trans people, Page emphasizes being trans isn’t all about surgery. For some people, it’s unnecessary. For others, it’s unaffordable. For the wider world, the media’s focus on it has sensationalized transgender bodies, inviting invasive and inappropriate questions. But Page describes surgery as something that, for him, has made it possible to finally recognize himself when he looks in the mirror, providing catharsis he’s been waiting for since the “total hell” of puberty. “It has completely transformed my life,” he says. So much of his energy was spent on being uncomfortable in his body, he says. Now he has that energy back.

For the transgender community at large, visibility does not automatically lead to acceptance. Around the globe, transgender people deal disproportionately with violence and discrimination. Anti-trans hate crimes are on the rise in the U.K. along with increasingly transphobic rhetoric in newspapers and tabloids. In the U.S., in addition to the perennial challenges trans people face with issues like poverty and homelessness, a flurry of bills in state legislatures would make it a crime to provide transition-related medical care to trans youth. And crass old jokes are still in circulation. When Biden lifted the ban on open service for transgender troops, Saturday Night Live’s Michael Che did a bit on Weekend Update about the policy being called “don’t ask, don’t tuck.”

Page says coming out as trans was “selfish” on one level: “It’s for me. I want to live and be who I am.” But he also felt a moral imperative to do so, given the times. Human identity is complicated and mysterious, but politics insists on fitting everything into boxes. In today’s culture wars, simplistic beliefs about gender—e.g., chromosomes = destiny—are so widespread and so deep-seated that many people who hold those beliefs don’t feel compelled to consider whether they might be incomplete or prejudiced. On Feb. 24, after a passionate debate on legislation that would ban discrimination against LGBTQ people, Representative Marie Newman, an Illinois Democrat, proudly displayed the pride flag in support of her daughter, who is trans. Representative Marjorie Taylor Greene, a Georgia Republican, responded by hanging a poster outside her office that read: There are TWO genders: MALE & FEMALE.

The next day Dr. Rachel Levine, who stands to become the first openly transgender federal official confirmed by the Senate, endured a tirade from Senator Rand Paul about “genital mutilation” during her confirmation hearing. My second conversation with Page happens shortly after this. He brings it up almost immediately, and seems both heartbroken and determined. He wants to emphasize that top surgery, for him, was “not only life-changing but lifesaving.” He implores people to educate themselves about trans lives, to learn how crucial medical care can be, to understand that lack of access to it is one of the many reasons that an estimated 41% of transgender people have attempted suicide, according to one survey.

Page has been in the political trenches for a while, having leaned into progressive activism after coming out as queer in 2014. For two seasons, he and best friend Ian Daniel filmed Gaycation, a Viceland series that explored LGBTQ culture around the world and, at one point, showed Page grilling Senator Ted Cruz at the Iowa State Fair about discrimination against queer people. In 2019, Page made a documentary called There’s Something in the Water, which explores environmental hardships experienced by communities of color in Nova Scotia, with $350,000 of his own money. That activism extends to his own industry: in 2017, he published a Facebook post that, among other things, accused director Brett Ratner of forcibly outing him as gay on the set of an X-Men movie. (A representative for Ratner did not respond to a request for comment.)

As a trans person who is white, wealthy and famous, Page has a unique kind of privilege, and with it an opportunity to advocate for those with less. According to the U.S. Trans Survey, a large-scale report from 2015, transgender people of color are more likely to experience unemployment, harassment by police and refusals of medical care. Nearly half of all Black respondents reported being denied equal treatment, verbally harassed and/or physically attacked in the past year. Trans people as a group fare much worse on such stats than the general population. “My privilege has allowed me to have resources to get through and to be where I am today,” Page says, “and of course I want to use that privilege and platform to help in the ways I can.”

Since his disclosure, Page has been mostly quiet on social media. One exception has been to tweet on behalf of the ACLU, which is in the midst of fighting anti-trans bills and laws around the country, including those that ban transgender girls and women from participating in sports. Mississippi Governor Tate Reeves says he will sign such a bill in the name of “protect[ing] young girls.” Page played competitive soccer and vividly recalls the agony of being told he would have to play on the girls’ team once he aged out of mixed-gender squads. After an appeal, Page was allowed to play with the boys for an additional year. Today, several bills list genitalia as a requirement for deciding who plays on which team. “I would have been in that position as a kid,” Page says. “It’s horrific.”

All this advocacy is unlikely to make life easier. “You can’t enter into certain spaces as a public trans person,” says the ACLU’s Strangio, “without being prepared to spend some percentage of your life being threatened and harassed.” Yet, while he seems overwhelmed at times, Page is also eager. Many of the political attacks on trans people—whether it is a mandate that bathroom use be determined by birth sex, a blanket ban on medical interventions for trans kids or the suggestion that trans men are simply wayward women beguiled by male privilege—carry the same subtext: that trans people are mistaken about who they are. “We know who we are,” Page says. “People cling to these firm ideas [about gender] because it makes people feel safe. But if we could just celebrate all the wonderful complexities of people, the world would be such a better place.”

Even if Page weren’t vocal, his public presence would communicate something powerful. That is in part because of what Paisley Currah, a professor of political science at Brooklyn College, calls “visibility gaps.” Historically, trans women have been more visible, in culture and in Hollywood, than trans men. There are many explanations: Our culture is obsessed with femininity. Men’s bodies are less policed and scrutinized. Patriarchal people tend to get more emotional about who is considered to be in the same category as their daughters. “And a lot of trans men don’t stand out as trans,” says Currah, who is a trans man himself. “I think we’ve taken up less of the public’s attention because masculinity is sort of the norm.”

During our interviews, Page will repeatedly refer to himself as a “transgender guy.” He also calls himself nonbinary and queer, but for him, transmasculinity is at the center of the conversation right now. “It’s a complicated journey,” he says, “and an ongoing process.”

While the visibility gap means that trans men have been spared some of the hate endured by trans women, it has also meant that people like Page have had fewer models. “There were no examples,” Page says of growing up in Halifax in the 1990s. There are many queer people who have felt “that how they feel deep inside isn’t a real thing because they never saw it reflected back to them,” says Tiq Milan, an activist, author and transgender man. Page offers a reflection: “They can see that and say, ‘You know what, that’s who I am too,’” Milan says. When there aren’t examples, he says, “people make monsters of us.”

For decades, that was something Hollywood did. As detailed in the 2020 Netflix documentary Disclosure, transgender people have been portrayed onscreen as villainous and deceitful, tragic subplots or the butt of jokes. In a sign of just how far the industry has come—spurred on by productions like Pose and trailblazers like Mock—Netflix offered to change the credits on The Umbrella Academy the same day that its star posted his statement on social media. Now when an episode ends, the first words viewers see are “Elliot Page.”

Today, there are many out trans and nonbinary actors, directors and producers. Storylines involving trans people are more common, more respectful. Sometimes that aspect of identity is even incidental, rather than the crux of a morality tale. And yet Hollywood can still seem a frightening place for LGBTQ people to come out. “It’s an industry that says, ‘Don’t do that,’” says director Silas Howard, who got his break on Amazon’s show Transparent, which made efforts to hire transgender crew members. “I wouldn’t have been hired if they didn’t have a trans initiative,” Howard says. “I’m always aware of that.”

So what will it mean for Page’s career? While Page has appeared in many projects, he also faced challenges landing female leads because he didn’t fit Hollywood’s narrow mold. Since Page’s Instagram post, his team is seeing more activity than they have in years. Many of the offers coming in—to direct, to produce, to act—are trans-related, but there are also some “dude roles.”

Downtime in quarantine helped Page accept his gender identity. “I was finally able to embrace being transgender,” he says.

Page was attracted to the role of Vanya in The Umbrella Academy because—in the first season, released in 2019—Vanya is crushed by self-loathing, believing herself to be the only ordinary sibling in an extraordinary family. The character can barely summon the courage to move through the world. “I related to how much Vanya was closed off,” Page says. Now on set filming the third season, co-workers have seen a change in the actor. “It seems like there’s a tremendous weight off his shoulders, a feeling of comfort,” says showrunner Steve Blackman. “There’s a lightness, a lot more smiling.” For Page, returning to set has been validating, if awkward at times. Yes, people accidentally use the wrong pronouns—“It’s going to be an adjustment,” Page says—but co-workers also see and acknowledge him.

The debate over whether cisgender people, who have repeatedly collected awards for playing trans characters, should continue to do so has largely been settled. However, trans actors have rarely been considered for cisgender parts. Whatever challenges might lie ahead, Page seems exuberant about playing a new spectrum of roles. “I’m really excited to act, now that I’m fully who I am, in this body,” Page says. “No matter the challenges and difficult moments of this, nothing amounts to getting to feel how I feel now.”

This includes having short hair again. During our interview, Page keeps rearranging strands on his forehead. It took a long time for him to return to the barber’s chair and ask to cut it short, but he got there. And how did that haircut feel?

Page tears up again, then smiles. “I just could not have enjoyed it more,” he says.”

[totiredtowrite]

Wolf In Sheeps Clothing

Warnings - Cursing because angry boy, reader being a cold mf, reader's clothes are described (but kind of vaguely so dw)

Note: I feel like I can hear the gif for some reason :D? Kind of self indulgent so reader is shorter than kyotani. Poor mad dog, always being put in his place by pretty boys. I'll have you know that I consult the wiki everytime I write something for character details by the way. (bragging shamelessly). Reader is also a second year and the student council president because this is fiction and I'm not sure if you have to be a third year hehe

this turned out longer than I thought it would, really popped off with this one

Male Reader

Kyotani Kentarou has a new enemy.

Whether or not you knew he though of you as an enemy didn't matter to him.

Suprisingly, it doesn't happen as often as some might think. His awful attitude and uncooperative nature ensures that he makes more enemies than friends, but most people are too afraid to approach him in order to become one of the two.

His new enemy?

You. (L/n) (y/n), Student Council President.

Kyotani never really though much of you. Not when you campaigned for the spot, (despite being in the second year), and not when you got the position. He's seen you, sure, you made that whole speech when you got the part and you oversaw detention sometimes.

Kyotani, (surprisingly), didn't get detention much. On the one time you oversaw the detention class when he was supposed to be there, he decided not to go.

So, overall, he hardly saw you at all. You were nothing but a passing thought in his mind when he heard people talking about you. He never expected to talk to you, much less consider you his worst enemy.

~~~

It really was a normal day for Kyotani. He woke up, took a shower, ate on his way to school, and slipped into class with his usual "fuck with me and you die" look on.

Practice was cancelled that day as the coach was out sick, so he didn't really have anything to do. Everything was all normal for him, right up until the end of the day. Kyotani was stalking through the hallways, the other second years moving out of his way and giving hushed whispers to their friends as they got ready to leave.

He was used to that, and even liked the feeling it gave him, knowing that these people were actually afraid of him. He was close to his locker when it happened.

He ran right into you, almost knocking you back. He glowered down at you, an angry spark in his eye that would have any other student running far away. You however, just stepped back to be clear of his general bubble, and looked up at him with a frown.

Truth be told, he had never really seen you up close. True he'd overheard some of his classmates talking about how 'intimidating' and 'handsome' you were, but Kentarou didn't expect to actually feel it coming off of you. He didn't expect to point out how attractive you were right off the bat.

The hard glisten in your eye faded as you scanned his face. You know this guy. Your expression changed from 'stone cold dictator' to 'unbothered student council president.'

Somehow feeling the tension, most of the students cleared out before either of you said a word.

"Kyotani Kentarou," you said, "Number 16 on our schools volleyball team. Infamous for your out of control aggression and prowess in your sport." You smirked at him quickly, straightening your blazer and standing up straight.

"The hell," he lifted his head to look down his nose at you, "why do you know me?"

You shrug. "I keep tabs on all the students I think are troublesome. Or interesting." He watched as you casually turned to your bag and pulled out a large binder. "You're on the first page, marked in red." you had a somewhat mocking tone in your voice, that coy smirk returning.

Kyotani growled, the noise sounding surprisingly like an animal. You were much more cocky up close. Cocky and aggravating. He moved closer to you so that your chests were almost touching while you put the binder away, and looked straight down at your face. "I can be much more troublesome," he said lowly.

You barked out a laugh. "Careful there Mad Dog." You advanced, causing Kyotani to step back. "Or I might just think you're threatening me," you continued to move forward. Kyotani took more steps back. The only way he could describe the feeling was like he was being herded like a sheep.

Another animalistic growl left his throat when his back hit the lockers. By now everyone had left, leaving just the two of you. "You aren't leaving a very good first impression on your president," you say dangerously, almost mocking your own title.

"Why do I need to leave a good impression on you," he muttered out. You didn't say anything and instead lifted your arm above his shoulder to slam it by his head. He recognized this feeling. Yet somehow, it felt all different.

Not once had the rumors spoken about the affect you had on people. You scanned his face again, those intimidating (e/c) eyes holding him steady in place. His breath hitched in his throat softly when you pulled your hand back to straighten his tie. "You don't," you said referring to his earlier question, eyes focused on his tie. "And you haven't."

You pulled away from him and stepped back, patting him on the shoulder before turning on your heel to head towards the doors. You turned your head just as you were about to leave, the blue grey light from the cloudy sky making you seem more threatening. "Take care, Mad Dog." You left the school building, leaving Kentarou breathing heavily and on guard at the lockers.

~~~

He really didn't expect that from you.

He had had a similar feeling, when Yahaba threw him into a wall and scolded him during the spring preliminary game against Karasuno. Similar, but not quite the same. It felt like you had him trapped. He still had your words replaying on repeat in his mind.

Those rumors he heard about you didn't do you any justice. He never heard anything about how easily you could make people feel... things. For once, he felt like he was the one being hunted. And oh boy did he not like that. All those times he'd seen you, he thought you looked like a regular goody two shoes who would report even the smallest wrongdoing to the teachers. He didn't expect a calculated, threatening boy who had a binder of 'troublemakers' and a heavy presence.

He didn't sleep more than 2 hours that night.

Maybe it was your eyes that were etched into his mind. Maybe it was your smooth voice, that look that made it seem like there was so much more under your surface.

So naturally he came to the conclusion that you were his rival.

He managed to avoid you all till the end of the week, Sunday rolling around like a saving grace. He didn't see you once for the rest of the week, but it still felt like you were watching him with those calculated eyes of yours. His shoulder still felt all weird and tingly from where you had touched him.

The weekend felt like an asylum to him, a feeling of safety and control returning to him when his older sister sent him out to go pick up some things from the store.

Kyotani had decided to cut through the park on his way back, but now he was quickly regretting his decision. It's not like he was afraid of you, he just thought that avoiding you would be the best option.

The last place he expected you to be was sitting in the park, staring out at the little man-made pond with a few birds at your feet. You had an overcoat on to compensate for the slightly chilly weather, a sweater visible underneath it. Your shoes were tapping the ground rhythmically.

You looked much less intimidating out of uniform. You had a neutral, content look on your face, cheek squished against your palm with your elbow resting on your knee. It was almost cute, he thought, if that was the right word for it.

"Are you just going to stand there forever," you turned your face towards him and regarded him with lidded eyes. "You can sit down you know."

He jumped, standing still for a second before slowly moving towards you. His guard up like a wall as memories of your last interaction replayed through his mind. His breath quickened ever so slightly, and his ears turned pink.

He slid into place on the bench next to you. You turned towards him again and smiled. He went bright red.

It was an actual smile. Not that cocky smirk, but a soft clad cute smile. You focused your attention back on to the pond.

"You live around here," Kyotani inquired gruffly.

You nodded. "I don't go out much. Usually cooped up in my room working on god knows what." You leaned back, draping your arms gracefully across the back of the bench. "Sorry about our little encounter, by the way. I must have come off way scary, right?" You gave him that soft smile again.

He looked away and hid his cheeks with his hand. "Like I'd be afraid of you," he muttered.

You hummed softly. A thought struck him. He regained his composure before speaking again. "You must have known that I live around here, right?"

You nodded wordlessly. "It was in your file."

Kyotani decided not to comment on how creepy that was, and instead muttered out a small "oh."

Neither of you said a word for a few moments.

"We really got off on the wrong foot, huh?" You turned your whole body towards him, watching his movements like a cat.

He just grunted.

You laughed a little bit, and extended your hand. "Why don't we start over. I'm (l/n) (y/n)."

Kyotani eyed your hand suspiciously before taking it. The tingly feeling returned, but this time it felt stronger as both your hands were bare. Your slightly smaller hand gripped his firmly, the slight size difference making Kyotani blush a bit.

You really weren't what he thought, were you? Even so, you were still his enemy. His cute, scary, calculated, calm enemy.

He doesn't even know what hit him.

[eponymous-rose]

Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E129 (March 16, 2021)

Tonight’s guests are Matt Mercer and Taliesin Jaffe!

Matt, on DMing Luc’s Revivify: “That was weird. It’s one thing when it happens because of player action and circumstances and the choices they make. When it’s entirely on me, unintentional, and just realizing different chess pieces you’ve set up, that’s rough.” It was especially rough since this was a child NPC related to a PC. “I was hoping somebody had a spell slot left.” He kept in mind that there are two clerics in the room and that they could resurrect the next day even if the Revivify went poorly. “A good chance, since it’s his first time. Okay, okay, okay, okay, I think we’ll be okay, we’ll see how this goes. It was really stressful in the moment! I did not set out to have that happen, but when I realized what was going to happen, I tried to see it through.” He wouldn’t have prevented a chance to bring him back. “There may have been an offshoot short-run series of games to find a way to bring him back. I would have found some way to correct the circumstance so the players could feel good about moving forward with the story and there was no undue punishment beyond their control.”

Taliesin on Cad’s response: “This is a big thing if you’re a cleric. It was very much coming in like an EMT. Everything should be fine... hopefully. Just focused in and got it done. The minute things started to go south it was like, okay, that’s the next problem.”

On Yeza’s feelings: “It is a very complicated situation. I think he, much like how Veth is trying to figure out what it is that she wants, I think he’s trying to help her find that while also figuring it out for himself. I think Yeza’s also noticing that because Veth’s the more active of the two of them she also takes the weight of the responsibility and the blame for things when they go wrong, unnecessarily. Especially when he himself acknowledges that he’s partially at fault for even dragging everyone in with the Conclave. As much as he’s appreciative for them coming back for him, there’s a lot of back and forth. He’s filled with a lot of regret, too, but he’s very much trying to convince Veth that it’s a burden that she doesn’t have to keep to herself, that they can share it and work through it together.” Matt mentions that, as an actor, he really loves exploring interactions between characters first and foremost. “Especially when you don’t know where it’s going to go.” He also praises Sam as a scene partner - “I really cherish that.”

How does Caduceus feel about Revivify and Speak with Dead? “Speak with Dead is an interesting middle ground, because he knows that it’s not actually speaking with the dead. It’s really just-- it’s almost medical, really. This is just reactivating a brain at a certain point. It’s practically just a muscle twitch at this point. That doesn’t really prod him in that direction. Revivify is interesting, because it had never really come up. At first I thought of it as bending the rules, but it’s not bending the rules. You knock over a plant, you replant it, you don’t stare at it and go ‘Well, that’s over.’ This is just doing the work. No, we can bring this thing back to health. This is all part of the circle of life, that sometimes we can save something. Especially given the stress that he’s put himself through over the past year of being with these people. He’s started to think of himself a bit as a battlefield medic, and triage is just part of the deal, and it’s completely acceptable.”

Did Trent really just want to talk? “Yeah, that circumstance, as it came together, Trent would never have arrived if there wasn’t an indication that there was some kind of infiltration or attack. Even beyond that, it was Jester breaking the concentration on her charm on that one guard when she created her duplicate.” The guards’ job is to inform a member of the Cerberus Assembly, and Trent lived the closest. “He didn’t know who it was, didn’t have any expectation necessarily. The minute he saw the illusion, he knew a powerful magic user was involved.” Seeing Caleb was an unexpected surprise. “I don’t think he wanted to throw down necessarily. He was more interested in figuring out exactly what the nature of this was.” Matt had multiple battlemaps that didn’t get used. “They managed to cleverly out-maneuver him in his surprise of seeing them.” The Nein rocketed up his priority list after that very quickly. Taliesin: “We’re so fucked.”

On Cad being “Uncle Caduceus” to Luc: “It’s the thing he misses most about home, is being a juvenile shit. It’s nice to be able to express that part of him again, as opposed to the serious, life-threatening, constant intensity. I’m very at home just being a little difficult.”

Cosplay of the Week: an amazing Beau! (_rumor_king, photography by kourtyardproductions on Instagram)

On Marion: “Like a lot of people in this whole narrative from the beginning, getting swept up in things larger than her and trying to adapt. This is a circumstance she’s avoided for a long time. She’s having a rough time in some ways, but simultaneously, she’s enduring. Like a mother would. She’s adapting, she’s making it work. Without much of a choice, you just kind of do the best you can and lean on the people around you to help you where they can. Luckily she has a daughter there. She’s probably surprising herself at how well she’s doing given the circumstances.” Matt talks about how weird it is to feel proud of character he’s created. “Of the many things Marion is incredible at, she’s a studier of the human condition. She’s seen and heard the stories of so many. That gives her a very special perspective. She can see elements of that fractured individual within Caleb, and knowing the good that he’s brought to his friends, and knowing he’s possibly saved her life from bad circumstances, she couldn’t not speak up. She very easily falls into that role of maternal comforter, because it’s one of the many things she’s really good at, she enjoys it, and she can see well when people need it.” He’s been enjoying having Marion along for this (despite the difficult circumstances) because he was always a little sad that they only got to see her for short periods of time.

On the Blooming Grove’s safety: “He’s afraid that it’s a premonition. He’s not pinned it down, but he’s happy to let his imagination wander. He at the very least feels like there’s a reason he’s having these thoughts, and that there’s a reason to go there. He’s a big believer that these things don’t just happen. He’s more likely to think that there’s a good reason to go versus a danger to go. He’s had a couple of ominous warnings lately, and he’s not used to them and not a fan. He’s more likely to read something like that as, there is something there waiting for you that you have to discover. There is something that is going to be helpful to you, even if it hurts.”

On Astrid: “While maybe not as readable in overall personality as Trent is, I still want to be careful to not discuss things that are still being discussed within the game and tossed around as possibilities. Astrid is another complicated character, as anyone would be who’s been through the life she has. I can’t say too much. I can say she’s definitely legitimately happy to see Bren/Caleb after all this time.” His reemergence definitely caught her off guard. “We’ll have to see where it goes from there.”

On Cad’s successful Divine Intervention: “He’s definitely hit the ‘on a mission from god’ stage. He’s been that way for the entire campaign of, this, this is what I’ve been waiting for. Even when it sucks a lot, it’s been nice that those things have popped up to remind him, no, no, you’re doing it right, everything’s good. Probably not going to survive the next week, but you’re doing good! Not quite 1 in a 100 chance, but I forget so often to make that roll, and it’s such a great roleplaying roll. I don’t know how at level 20 you could deal with the fact that you can do that every day.” 

On Zeenoth getting his comeuppance: the kidnapping was a concept Marisha brought up for Beau’s backstory, and Matt went with it even though it was opposed to the Cobalt Soul’s philosophy because he knew rooting it out would make for an interesting story. “I felt it was an important beat to bring to her, because it was something that she was wronged by. And to show that there are still some good people out there who are trying to make things right.” After the tentative peace, dealing with this became Dairon’s next focus. “I was glad we finally got to it. So many people don’t have the opportunity in their lives to get that sort of justice and vindication, so if I can bring elements of that justice into our world, even for our own hope, I’m going to do that. Especially for my wife’s character, especially for a character that deserves that.” Taliesin points out that if it had come too early, Beau wouldn’t have believed it.

Cad’s thoughts on the Tomb Taker betrayal? “He knew it was gonna come at some point. There was no way that was gonna last. He was hoping it was gonna last a little longer. He was really hoping they had a vested interest in getting them all the way to the end. Nope, this is apparently as far as we go, and he was not prepared for that.” He was expecting the potential for de-escalation. “Caduceus is the only character in there that doesn’t have a history with Lucien. I think he sees him a little more clearly than everybody else does. They’re all looking for this person that Clay, at least, is of the opinion that he’s just not there. This is a very manipulative, very dangerous infernal human. Just smarter than all of them. Really aware that there is no calculating what the hell is going to happen. Conversation is the only way you can deal with someone like that.”

Fan Art of the Week: An amazing Caleb closeup! (rynn_birb on Twitter)

Taliesin on Lucien: “I’m excited he’s the one that’s going to kill us all. Poetic that this is how the game ends.” Matt was delighted when Taliesin handed him carte blanche to do what he wanted with Molly’s past. “I was like ‘shit... oh, wait!’ The character of Lucien was always intended to be an antagonist so that it would have been Molly being chased by the person who wanted their body back. But then it happened that he got his body back.” Taliesin: “He’s so much worse than I ever hoped.”

Matt, on the Holy Avenger: “I hadn’t thought to initially even give that sword.” The good roll was the only reason Kima handed that over. “Well, sure, you get the sword. It was very reactionary, it wasn’t my intent originally. I was like, well, I mean, there’s two avenues she can take with this.” Multiclass into Paladin, or lean into the fact that her subclass is essentially a barbarian paladin. “This really works out in a uniquely beautiful way. Let me see if I can lay out a path for her to earn it.”

On Cad’s attempt at lying blowing up in his face: “He was like that kid that had a really bad day in high school and was like, you know what? I’m going to let loose. This is it. I’m gonna dye a streak in my hair. And then tries to give himself a haircut and ends up with half bangs. Well, okay, obviously I’m not that person. I was feeling a little distraught and I didn’t handle it well. Maybe I’m going dark... no, I’m not going dark. Nope.” Matt mentions how much he relates to Caduceus.

Matt, on the Eyes: “What can I tell you? I’m enjoying the hell out of it. The moment they began to really push to read that book, I was like, okay, this is on you. I’m excited for the point in the narrative where the march continues back to Eiselcross. I am almost impatient - not really - because we’re on the cusp of getting to more of the meat. There’s so much to learn, so much to see, so much to explore. I love instilling my players with absolute terror.”

Thoughts on Jester’s Tarot reading? Taliesin cackles. “Molly made the cards, so. Did it to himself, he did, he did.” Matt: “Once again, another example of things working out unexpectedly and too perfectly for an improvised moment. Fuck.” Taliesin: “Bless the wisdom of chaos.” Matt: “I love that even at this point in the campaign, Molly continues to fuck with people. I’m just so proud. That deeply shook Lucien, for reasons.” Taliesin: “It’s the everlasting gobstopper smoke bomb.”

[i-became-the-lady-of-the-blog]

They were hiding like they always did, staying in the corners, only ever greeting people and too nervous to make conversation. ‘The adorably shy queen’ the tabloids had named them. Shyness really wasn’t an issue, they loved meeting new people. But every time they even mentioned life outside the castle to another person, they could feel his cold, viridescent stare on them.

They were nothing but a doll, decor. Teenage girls wanted to be them, the boys found them cute. What a truly odd existence. Malleus had gone into the next room with some politician from the west. Having a banquet at political meetings had been his idea, giving them something to do while he worked.

A hand rested on their shoulder, they turned to see Leona Kingscholar. He looked the same, though a bit of rough stubble adorned his chin, he had new tattoos as well.

“We need to talk, herbivore”, the nickname that annoyed them to bits years ago now seemed like a call from heaven. A way out

An ally.

This is a sequel to this story

----

Before everything went to south, MC was a social butterfly. They would talk with anyone and find topic to converse easily but here they were. Too afraid to make a conversation with people to avoid making Malleus upset. They remember first time MC felt Malleus’ raw jealousy on their first year in Valley of Thorns. They were trying to cope with their abduction, to feel normal again and soothe their need to socialize with others. There were noble fae visitors on that day. Maleficent suggested drink tea on the balcony while she, Malleus and some of the nobles had a meeting. The remaining group went to the balcony, sitting on the chairs around the table. 

It was silent when the servants brought snacks for the group. MC thought the group hated them since they are a human so they didn’t utter a word. It was silent until one of the fae ladies spoke up and asked how they’ve been faring. MC was reluctant at first, fearing their judgment but as they spoke more, their confidence restored. It was not just the fae lady who initiated the conversation, the rest of the group were good people too. Talking with them soothed MC’s nerves, in fact, they craved to talk with them more. They were on the verge of a mental breakdown after being isolated for so very long, talking with them felt like a cure in that moment. They could not even recall the last time they laughed until that day. All was going well until he showed up. Their meeting ended earlier so he didn’t want to waste any time to be with MC, yet when he teleported, he saw MC talking and laughing with someone who isn’t him. He dismissed the guests politely before teleporting MC and himself to his- no their- bed chambers. 

Malleus was enraged that they were getting intimate with another even though it was just laughing and engaging in conversation. The sky darkened as Malleus expression was taking a dark turn. The sky was rumbling with thunder and lightening, as Malleus was taking slow and uncanny steps towards them, making MC flinch with every step. That day, MC felt Malleus’ true rage, true jealousy, true power... It was not uncommon for Malleus to take pleasure in their body regardless of MC’s wishes but that day, it was more than that. It caused MC to have nightmares over a year. Waking up because of a night terror and only to be soothed by the person who caused it was taking a toll on MC. But no one cared nor dared to stand up for them. That day MC learned not to talk with people when Malleus wasn’t around, how much cruel Malleus could get when he wishes and no one would bat an eye. That day MC decided to be obedient, to avoid more harm.

Now here MC was, greeting delegates from different countries and the nobles of Valley of Thorns briefly and making a small talk before moving on to the next person. No one managed to ask questions beyond daily talk and Valley of Thorns related queries. Their court and the delegates saw them as the Shy Queen, thinking that MC was still nervous to talk with people they didn’t know personally. The truth couldn’t be far from that. They just didn’t want to get punished for socializing nor feel that pain again.

MC needed a drink and compose themselves before moving on to the other guests. That was the plan until they saw something or more like someone. They had to take a second look since they didn’t think Malleus would be this bold to invite someone from the past, someone who knew who MC was before becoming Malleus’ prisoner- no spouse. Taking another look at the figure, the realization dawned upon them. It was Leona Kingscholar, the hot guy who was not even trying to be hot, the lion king of Savanaclaw, the person they and Grim kept awake all night for him to help fight the next dorm leader. Leona and MC were not close in the NRC but to see a familiar face...

MC just wanted to run and hug him tightly. They were about to do that but then Malleus came to their mind. Speak of the devil, he shall appear...

Malleus came soon after Leona spoke. MC wanted to explain the situation so it wouldn’t cause a problem but Malleus cut them off, pulling them over, kissing their hands affectionately, making a show in front of Leona.  MC recalled the rivalry between them. Leona was powerful but he was in the middle of Valley of Thorns, surrounded by powerful fae, Malleus, Lilia and Maleficent herself. He didn’t stand a chance. They didn’t want him to be harmed so they were eager to remove the reason of current conflict, themselves, from there but it was impossible for Malleus to just let them go. MC’s heart was racing, as if it would go out of her chest when Malleus forced them to eye contact. They thought a kiss on cheek would suffice but Malleus lifted their chip up before kissing them on the lips. If it wasn’t for the years of practice to stay still even while being violated, their knees would have given away. 

MC let out the breath they weren’t aware that they were holding. Everything was too much, the stress was getting to them but they couldn’t fail now and make Malleus think something happened between them and Leona. They saw a servant and ordered a drink. Before they could have some alone time, a noble approached them and started talking. MC was having a hard time to have the standard conversation as they has with the rest. They were feeling nauseous as the nobles kept talking but luckily the servant brought them a glass of campaign. Gulping the entire glass in one go, they got the attention of the nobles as they started to make unwanted comments. The alcohol made them relax just a tiny bit. Finally, MC was able to continue conversation. As it ended, they asked for another drink while going over to greet others.

After what seemed like an age, MC found an opening to take a break. They walked into the quieter corridor, hoping for some alone time. They didn’t get what they hoped for...

A hand rested on their shoulder, making them panic since they knew it was not how Malleus touched so this meant someone other than Malleus was touching them. They wanted to warn the person. They turned around to see Malleus’ possible victim, only to meet with Leona’s eyes. “We need to talk” He said firmly.

MC just wanted him to be okay so they couldn’t speak with him, ensuring Malleus’ wrath. They conjured up a smile as best as they could in that situation. “We have already talked, Prince Kingscholar. Now if you excuse me,” MC was going to walk around him and go back to the crowd - so much for relaxing.

“Lizard is in an important meeting along with grandma Lizard. The guards are not checking your every move all the time. They have intervals.” Leona stated casually. “This means we can talk, Herbivore.” He seemed determined to talk.

Mc knew they should have walked away but something in Leona’s voice made them trust his observation. “Be quick please, I don’t want to anger Mal- I mean, my husba- I- I-” They were having trouble with speaking with Leona without saying what went on behind the closed doors. 

“I don’t need to smell to know your nervousness, MC. Especially around the Lizard who is supposed to be your husband. Tell me what happened directly now.” Leona looked the same, though a bit of rough stubble adorned his chin, he had new tattoos as well. “Did you return home?” He was asking impossible questions.

MC gulped, recalling the day they lost everything. It pained them greatly to think about the day they thought they would see their family and friends again. “No...” They whispered, clenching their fists and burying their nails to their palm to not cry, yet they couldn’t prevent the quivering of their voice. “Dire Crowley told me to come over to the mirror room. He told me that he found a way to go home and wants me to check it out before going back completely.” They closed their eyes, it was as if reliving that dreadful moment. “My husba- Mal- no my husba... You-Know-Who was there with the old bat. I thought they wanted to see interdimensional travel for the first time but they had other plans.  You-Know-Who told Dire that he did a good job before he took me to Valley of Thorns with the old bat. I resisted at first but if you went through what I-” Their voice broke as they felt tears in their eyes, dropping to their cheeks. They wiped their cheek, “I answered your question, now please leave me be before some guard sees us together and reports to You-Know-Who. I accepted this is my life and I live this way now.”

“Not anymore,” Leona objected, MC could feel the anger behind these those words. “Your imprisonment ends today, you are coming with me, Herbivore.” He stated, ordering them around like when they were in the NRC.

In that moment, it seemed silly but hearing them from someone like Leona made them imagine how their life could have changed. Maybe this was their way out and he was their ally.

——

🍪 Anon I love your brain once again!

[robininthelabyrinth]

Associates - Part 5 - ao3, pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4

“So,” Jiang Cheng said, rolling the jar of wine between his hands. “Who wants to put money on all our reconciliations being part of one of Nie Huaisang’s schemes?”

“Me,” Wei Wuxian said at once.

“Hey,” Nie Huaisang protested. “Jiang-xiong! Wei-xiong! How mean! Not everything I do is a scheme!”

“I will bet as well,” Lan Wangji said.

Nie Huaisang turned to him at once. “Lan Zhan. You traitor!”

“Be careful,” Lan Xichen said mildly. “He might bite you.”

Now it was Lan Wangji’s turn to turn to glare.

“No, no, unfair!” Wei Wuxian laughed. “He’s not allowed to bite anyone but me anymore!”

“Ugh, must you always –”

“I really didn’t scheme!” Nie Huaisang interrupted Jiang Cheng, waving his hands around. “I didn’t! Lan Zhan was the one who approached me, remember? I didn’t even know that he was acting as both Sect Leader and Chief Cultivator until he told me, and I certainly wouldn’t have counted on him coming to me for help – no one ever comes to me for help!”

“Clearly an oversight on all our parts, Nie-xiong,” Wei Wuxian said. “Anyway, who would’ve thought you’d take one little offhand remark from me so personally? Me, of all people! I never mean anything I say!”

Nie Huaisang huffed and reached for his fan, only for Lan Wangji to catch his hand mid-gesture and return it to his wine jar.

“I’m not a child in need of pacification, you know,” he informed Lan Wangji, but picked up the jar instead.

Lan Wangji looked satisfied.

“What was your plan, then?” Jiang Cheng asked, drinking from his own jar. “I mean, for after you were done – Jin Guangyao gone, your brother avenged…”

“Well, assuming I survived –”

“Weren’t you?”

“I was going up against san-ge; I wasn’t taking anything for granted! He might have been a terrible person, but he was ridiculously efficient.”

Nods all around. Even Lan Xichen mostly looked nostalgic rather than heartbroken.  

“Anyway, I didn’t have one,” Nie Huaisang said, then looked at all of their disbelieving looks. “I didn’t! I already told you that I didn’t do it for power or anything…maybe I’d get married and have some kids to pass on the family line, I don’t know.”

“I don’t know,” Wei Wuxian said solemnly to Jiang Cheng, who nodded back just as solemnly. “I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know –”

“Wei-xiong, I am going to throw this jar in your face.”

“Lan Zhan will catch it,” Wei Wuxian cackled.

“He probably will, too,” Nie Huaisang said, flopping down dramatically on the table. “Er-ge, Jiang-xiong, they’re teaming up on me!”

“Oh no,” Lan Xichen said dryly. “Whatever shall we do.”

Jiang Cheng muffled a snort.

“I never really had life goals,” Nie Huaisang said, drawing sad circles on the table with a finger. “I just want to have a good time. I want to paint, and read books, and spend time with friends…trust me, this whole –” He waved a hand at them. “– reconstituted friendship thing took me as much by surprise as everyone else. I fully expected to die alone if anyone ever found out that I was involved, which of course Wei-xiong did almost at once –”

“Well, I am a genius,” Wei Wuxian bragged.

“He also wasn’t very subtle towards the end there.”

“In short,” Nie Huaisang concluded, ignoring them all and sitting back up. “Blame Lan Zhan if you want to blame anyone.”

“I took the first step,” Lan Wangji said placidly. “You took the next five.”

“I did not – hmm. Okay, maybe I did.”

“I knew you were scheming!” Jiang Cheng exclaimed. “Just how much of it did you plan?”

“Sometimes things just happen, Jiang-xiong!”

“Not when it’s you, they don’t!”

“They do!” Nie Huaisang pouted. “I know you all think of me as a planner, but really, most of the time, I just try to see what’s the best way to use whatever circumstances I end up in. Or do you think it would’ve taken me as long as it did?”

“Didn’t Chifeng-zun used to say the same thing?” Wei Wuxian said nostalgically. “I feel like I remember him saying something like that.”

“He did,” Lan Xichen said. “‘All you can be is prepared: a plan will only last until execution, and after that it’s just a question of who can better react to the circumstances at hand.’”

“Nie-xiong would be a good general,” Lan Wangji opined.

“Lan Zhan, you take that back.”

“Mm. No.”

“You brat. You think you’re the only one who bites? I’ll bite you.”

“No biting my future husband,” Wei Wuxian said. “No one else gets to bite him, just me. It’s going to be in our vows.”

“It had better not be,” Jiang Cheng said. “I will break out Zidian if I have to.”

“Oh, like that’s a real threat. You break out Zidian every time the wind changes.”

“Wei Wuxian! You -!”

“I’m pretty sure that’s a Lan Zhan original, actually,” Nie Huaisang said thoughtfully.

Jiang Cheng looked at Lan Wangji.

Lan Wangji looked back, not denying it.

“…I hate you. Personally.”

“Mm. Mutual.”

“Can we get back to the subject of Nie-xiong and his marvelous military prowess?” Wei Wuxian interjected, possibly having learned the benefit of stemming explosions rather than causing them during the period of time he spent dead.

“Can we not?” Nie Huaisang whined.

“I don’t know,” Lan Xichen said thoughtfully. “Getting me out of seclusion was an organized charge worth of any military campaign.”

“Well, someone had to do it!”

“I’m pretty sure you set me up deliberately so that I’d talk to Wei Wuxian,” Jiang Cheng said.

“…you were going to do that anyway! I just gave you an excuse!”

“You convinced me to go after Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji said. “And presented me with the most effective way to do that.”

“I…!” Nie Huaisang opened and closed his mouth, then groaned and put his forehead down on the table a second time. “I didn’t mean to scheme! Really!”

Everyone laughed at him.

“Well, you don’t need to worry. I’m all schemed out now,” he said pitifully. “No more schemes for me.”

“That may be a problem,” Lan Wangji said. “Scheming will be helpful when you become Chief Cultivator.”

Nie Huaisang shot up from the table. “When I what now?!”

“I have decided that the role should be rotated between the Great Sects,” Lan Wangji said. “To encourage inter-sect unity and to avoid power accruing into any single sect’s hands in the future.”

“You just want to have more free time to roll in the sheets with your husband!”

Lan Wangji nodded.

“Is shamelessness infectious?” Jiang Cheng asked Lan Xichen. “Wei Wuxian hasn’t been back all that long, and Hanguang-jun’s face is now as thick as a wall.”

“I’m sure it isn’t,” Lan Xichen replied. “Otherwise, wouldn’t you have been the first victim?”

“I don’t want to be Chief Cultivator!” Nie Huaisang shouted. “I don’t! I’m all full up! I’m running my own sect now, too – you can’t do this to me!”

“Get help,” Lan Wangji said. “As I did.”

“Merciless! Lan Zhan, you’re just absolutely merciless!”

Jiang Cheng snickered. “It’s no more than you deserve,” he told Nie Huaisang, picking up his wine and taking another sip.

Nie Huaisang turned and glared back at him. “Brave talk from the person who’s going to be helping me.”

Jiang Cheng choked.

“Did you miss the part where Lan Zhan said he was going to rotate the assignment?” Nie Huaisang asked maliciously. “Clearly it’s better to start getting you up to speed right away…”

“You did rather walk into that,” Lan Xiche remarked to Jiang Cheng, who glared at him.

“I didn’t agree to that!” he snapped.

“Who else am I going to ask?” Nie Huaisang asked, leaning back. “Lan Zhan and Wei-xiong are going to be in bed, er-ge’s already helping me run my sect –”

“Wait,” Lan Xichen said. “I’m what? When did I agree to that?”

“About the same time Jiang-xiong agreed to become the next Chief Cultivator,” Nie Huaisang said cheerfully. “Besides, I’m your favorite younger brother besides Lan Zhan, don’t deny it!”

“I don’t have -”

“Anyway, it’s good practice! It’ll take both of you to help Jin Ling manage when it’s his turn, won’t it?”

“All three of you,” Wei Wuxian put in. “That brat’s a trouble magnet. Do you know what happened at his last night hunt?”

“Oh we all know what happened at his last night-hunt,” Jiang Cheng grumbled. “How did something that simple get that out of hand?”

“Well, Jiang-xiong,” Nie Huaisang said, smirking at Wei Wuxian. “According to the Lan sect rules, it’s undoubtedly something to do with the people he associates with.”

“It is,” Lan Wangji said before Jiang Cheng could respond. “His uncles.”

Jiang Cheng opened his mouth to retort, then frowned and looked at Wei Wuxian, who also frowned.

“Wait,” he said, clearly thinking about it. “Jiang Cheng and I are his uncles from jiejie’s side, and Mo Xuanyu was also from his father’s side, and Lan-da-ge was sworn brothers with Jin Guangyao, which by some token makes him also an uncle…”

“And since Lan Zhan is er-ge’s brother, that makes him an uncle, too,” Nie Huaisang said. “Plus theoretically the same is true for me, through my da-ge.”

“…that’s a lot of uncles.”

“It is,” Nie Huaisang said, starting to grin wildly. “Clearly we should start an...association!”

[after-witch]

Office Hours [Yandere Shigaraki Tomura x Secretary!Reader]

Title: Office Hours [Yandere Shigaraki Tomura x Secretary!Reader]

Synopsis: He gave you the outfit. The blouse, the skirt, the nylons--the heels. A secretary’s unofficial uniform. You can’t help but feel mocked, in a way. Hurt. Was he being cruel on purpose, to make you think about your life before all this? 

Word Count: 2000ish

Notes: yandere, kidnapped, some secretary adjacent kink material (tickling, spanking)

The mirror is streaked and dirty and you can only assume that it’s never been washed. Your captor certainly hasn’t washed it since you were taken, which was… weeks? Months? He doesn’t keep track of time, and he doesn’t do a lot of cleaning, or tidying, or much of anything in the way of keeping this room (his room, your room, he says) decently habitable. Even your occasional sweep of old food wrappers and cans stuffed into stray plastic bags earns you a sarcastic comment or shut-down; but if you’re going to be held captain by some rough villain, you decided, then the least he could do is keep the room from being rock-bottom filthy.

At least you’re not streaked with dirt. He does let you shower. Alone--sometimes. He likes to watch, so you’ve learned to shower at lightning speed. It all depends on his mood, and his mood is always volatile, shifting, unsure. Which brings you to your present predicament, staring in a dirty mirror in the bathroom of your kidnapper, dressed in an outfit that is both familiar and strange.

You pull your hair back and watch yourself silently as you pin it with a black clip. You don’t look like yourself anymore. At least not any version of yourself you conceived seeing before. Your eyes and lips are painted up--cheap stuff, you assume, given the quality and lack of a label. At least it wasn’t used. 

But your face--it’s different now. You’re anxious and tired all the time, no matter how much you sleep when he’s gone or how much he tells you he won’t hurt you (sometimes even as he’s hurting you). And it shows in your eyes and face and the way your shoulders slump, making the thin white fabric of your blouse wrinkle.

He gave you the outfit. The blouse, the skirt, the nylons--the heels. A secretary’s unofficial uniform. You can’t help but feel mocked, in a way. Hurt. Was he being cruel on purpose, to make you think about your life before all this?

All of the motions of the morning were familiar… sitting on the toilet lid and slipping on the nylons, ever so slowly so they don’t get a run. Buttoning up each button, retracing your fingers when you button up the wrong hole. Slipping into the skirt and wiggling your hips before sliding your feet into the heels--a size too small, they pinch--and appraising yourself in the mirror.

But you’re not getting ready to stride into your office; you’re not getting ready to prep your boss, a Hero that you are slowly realizing will likely never find you, on today’s meetings and missteps and PR campaigns. 

You’re about to walk out of a dingy bathroom into a dingy room and indulge in some sick fantasy for your captor, and the very thought of it makes you want to vomit. But vomiting would ruin your makeup, and you’ve already taken long enough in the bathroom. He’ll think you’re stalling on purpose (you are, sort of) and that won’t end well.

So you look in the mirror one last time and take a deep breath and turn away, leaving the minor sanctuary of the bathroom for the uncertainty of the bedroom.

Your eyes are immediately drawn to Shigaraki, who has--unusually--cleared off the old sofa pushed against the wall. It's normally covered in dirty clothes and trash, things he tosses and never throws away unless you spring into action; but it's clear now, save for Shigaraki, sitting on one end with his palms spread out on both thighs. Casual. Waiting. And for what?

"Come here," he says, voice low and scratchy.

You don't want to--your body feels like lead. But you see his fingers twitch and you feel a surge of adrenaline thrum through you, like a lightning bolt that forces your legs to move. They feel heavy, and it's a wonder that they don't drag. The heels are hard to walk in, he probably grabbed (stole) the first pair he saw at the store.

You stand in front of him and it's awkward and humiliating and the lead feeling has gone from your legs to your stomach, heavy and foreboding.

"Sit next to me," he orders.

And you do. Wooden. Stiff. You shift just an inch, so your thighs don't touch his.

He sighs and you feel yourself cringe. "Not like that."

It's hard, really, to know exactly what he wants all the time. It feels like you're walking a tightrope, miles high, unable to look down to see where your next step should be. And there's no net underneath to catch you, either.

"I... don't know how you want me to sit." You keep your voice even and neutral. It's better than protesting, better than whining. It keeps him calmer.

"Get--get comfortable." He huffs, but it's not mean. It’s just annoyed. You can work with that. You lean back against the couch and force your posture to relax. You uncurl your fingers and let them rest in your lap, a bit primly, but no longer white knuckled. You glance down at his hands, glance up at his face. It's hard to keep eye contact, so you focus on his hair. You wish he'd wash it.

"Now put your feet in my lap."

"What?" You do make eye contact now, incredulous. He's looking away from you, which is... something new. He likes to stare you down and threaten you with looks or twitches of his hands, but now, he almost looks embarrassed.

You don’t want to make him mad, so you slowly lift your legs and shift on the sofa, making it easier to slide your feet into his lap. You keep staring at his face, his cheeks now tinged a slight pink, if only to avoid looking down at your feet cradled in his lap. What if he's hard. It wouldn't be the first time you saw him sporting an erection. At least you weren't in the shower this time.

He suddenly slides a finger into the side of your heels and you force yourself to stay still as he pulls them off and tosses them on the ground. So much for the complete look, you think. He stares down at your nylon-clad feet for so long that you wonder if you did something wrong.

"What are you--"

Shigaraki slides his rough fingers haphazardly down your feet, and your breath hitches the second they make contact. Instantly, instinctively, you jerk your feet away from him. But he must have known it was coming, because he holds your foot firm in a nearly bruising grip while removing all but one finger trailing down your sole.

"I bet..." You breathe steady, in-out-in-out, watching as he drags his teeth on his too-chapped lips. "I bet this--" he digs in deeper with his nail as he says it, and you gasp--"is why that shitty Hero wanted you to wear stuff like this, huh? Sicko..."

You bite back a snarky reply, half because you know calling him a hypocrite will piss him off--and half because you know that if you try to say something, anything, right now that you'll end up breaking the very thin dam that's holding back your desire to laugh. He's gently scratching towards your toes now and it's killing you--it really, really, really fucking tickles.

"Tomu--" you start, then stop, because you can feel the laughter bubbling up inside you. It makes you feel helpless. You close your eyes and will the feeling of his finger to go away, but it doesn’t; it’s maddening, and you can feel your breath get faster and faster and it hitches--the dam bursting is a small cry at first, nearly a hiccup, and suddenly you’re kicking at him with your other foot and laughing, hard and low.

You thrash and mindlessly throw your weight around, kicking and flailing, but it doesn’t stop. It goes on and on and it’s horrible and it tickles until finally Shigaraki stops to grab your free flailing leg and hold it tight. 

It’s over, mercifully--or maybe not, as you feel the breath practically knocked out of you as he suddenly grabs you by the waist and flips you onto your stomach. You try to move--all thoughts of appeasing your captor thrown out in the last seconds--but he presses his thighs hard against your hips and you’re pinned in place.

You breathe, hard, and you feel sweat from exertion beginning to bead at your temples. For his part, Shigaraki reflects your own exhaustion, slightly panting, cheeks flushed but--you think, you feel, actually--not for the same reasons.

“What--what are you doing?” You say, blinking away tears that are now just as much from the cheap mascara as they are from Shigaraki’s previous ministrations. You keep your face angled to the side to avoid having your nose pressed into the sofa--and into a highly questionable old stain.

Shigaraki’s stares at your face for a minute, before reaching down with a finger and brushing away flecks of streaky mascara.

“You’re a bad secretary,” he says, his voice lilting with a strangely humorous tone that you’ve never heard before.

“What?” Should you be… insulted? Was he stalking you at work and criticizing you? You weren’t perfect--who was?--but you’d manage to boost your Hero’s presence in the media and never missed a deadline for submitting sneaky PR-laden editorials to the local paper.

His hand trails down, softly tracing against the back of your neck with two fingers. You shiver as he continues downward, gently tickling as slowly makes his way down your thin, slightly sweaty blouse.

“I said you’re a bad secretary.” He’s got two hands--two fingers, actually--of your hips and you’re briefly horrified at the thought that he might tickle you there before he yanks down your skirt zipper and pulls it down instead.

“Don’t!” You try to squirm, but he keeps you firmly set in place even as your skirt fabric bunches against him.

He ignores you, and instead shifts his weight so that he’s facing your legs and--you realize with increasing stress--your nylon-covered ass.

“To--Tomura!” You say, throwing out the name he’s forced you to call him, the name that sometimes gets him to take a step back when he’s crossing lines you want to keep secure as long as possible. “Let’s just... watch a movie or something!”

He tsks. It’s a firm, decisive sound that threatens to bring bile to your throat. “That’s Boss to you, sweetheart. You know better than that.” No, you don’t know--what is he getting at? You squirm again but you know it’s fruitless, you know you’re not going anywhere.

A fact that is made even more clear when you feel Shigaraki rolling down your nylons at the waist, revealing your soft skin, your bare ass, underneath.

“I told you what would happen if you didn’t--” he clears his throat, a gesture that makes you far more aware of the hardness pressing against you from under his pants--”If you didn’t finish your paperwork.”

“Tomu--” There’s pain, suddenly--he spanked you, firm and fast, and the knot in your stomach feels like it’s being pulled in a thousand different directions. “Boss,” you self-correct, feeling breathless. It’s a game, you think, a twisted game and you’re an unwilling player.

“Good girl,” he praises, and it does nothing but make you wish you could sink into the sofa, stains and all. “But it doesn’t make up for a sloppy job. You have a punishment coming.”

He slaps your ass again in a swift, hard motion, the tips of his four fingers striking your skin with a decisive pain. Then again. And again. And again. You’re sniffling now--it hurts and more than that, it’s humiliating. The weight of your embarrassment seems to settle on your waist along with Shigaraki, who seems content with making your cheeks--both sets--hot with shame.

“Boss… Boss,” you say, desperate, wiggling, thinking of anything to redirect him. “Can’t--Can’t I make up for it some other way?” It comes out before you can think about it, a cliché ingrained in your brain from porn and pop culture, and you wish you could take it back. You definitely--definitely--don’t want to follow up on that request.

You swear you can feel him get harder as the words leave your lips. He shifts on your waist and there’s a slight wetness there, sticking to your blouse and your back. He’s breathing heavy and if you were to look--you can’t, you won’t--you would see his face is just as disheveled as yours.

“Maybe,” he pants, “Maybe later. For now…”

You brace yourself in anticipation of the next strike. And the many more to come.

[chatoyee]

it’s been a while, and many things have changed. innumerable things escape my mind as i try to recount all the experiences i have lived since 3 november 2018. i was happy. 

i suppose i still am happy. happiness has different manifestations and i’ve become accustomed to being solo, once more. i was mistaken when i thought i’d found something worthwhile; it only managed to last three and a half years, as if relationships are bound to break down as i edge closer to sharing a life with someone i thought i knew. maybe my relationships aren’t made to last for more than four years.

“maybe i should start dating to marry”

14 august 2018 - i’d taken those words seriously. but now, at almost twenty-five, perhaps it’s time to not take things as seriously and just let loose. it has almost been two months since he let me go, and i feel so much more liberated than i could have even fathomed. that night felt like my heart was being torn from my ribcage, and even just recalling this feeling makes my chest heave with deeper breaths. i’ve never experienced so much agony, so much heartbreak. what do you do when the person you love, with every fibre of your being, decides to cut the ties that held you both together?

it’s true, we were on a string. perhaps even on borrowed time, but i was willing to hold on to whatever was left. i wanted to make it work because i thought that mental health was taking its toll once again. or perhaps it was the distance. the pressure from university. maybe i wasn’t managing my time well enough - was i too focused on my job? on my degree? why did the onus always have to fall on me? but it didn’t matter, because i thought it would’ve been worth it. it would’ve been worth all the months i cried myself to sleep every single night, all the worries about infidelity, all the unfairness of having too many responsibilities to juggle.

it was worth it because hindsight is just another way for us to romanticise everything. things were perfect just two years ago. he called me beautiful. he cared about me. but it just fucking stopped. he gave up on us before anyone else did. everyone else thought we would pull through - “you just have until june, don’t worry too much. you can move in, by then.”

i really wish i hadn’t been so optimistic. but none of that matters now, and i have made peace with the fact that i may never get closure on this. perhaps it’s better that i not know about all the inner machinations of his mind, and i can sit with blissfully ignorant assumptions about what happened and what could’ve happened. i’ve had enough time to think it through now. perhaps it’s not that i wasn’t enough for him, but that i was just too much. too much of everything that is making him have to think about facing reality, moving forward, growing up. for that, i am not sorry. i can only be apologetic that he couldn’t meet me where i was.

the funny thing about getting out of a long-term relationship is finding something to do with all that extra time on your hands (that doesn’t involve falling into a self-destructive spiral of despair and overthinking). i binge-watched bridgerton and cried at the sex scenes during the first week, avoided reading any sort of fiction that involved romance in fear of breaking down, and my appetite had disappeared yet i’d rushed to make dinner plans with as many friends as possible. all to keep my mind from racing.

the transition to saying “my ex” or “someone i know” was probably the most difficult task of all. i could hide my tears whenever i attended seminars as i discussed various media theory or debated campaign tactics, but when it came to personal stories and analogies, it was difficult. making small talk was difficult.

learning to flirt again has also been a barrier. becoming too comfortable with your partner apparently does lead to an inevitable loss of flirtatiousness, though i can’t say that i was ever a master in the first place. previous attempts had been overtaken by discussions of how f(x) is underrated as a second-gen group, althusser’s theory of the state apparatus, and what wisconsin is like in the autumn. and that’s just flirting with guys. historically, i’ve been an absolute idiot when it comes to sussing out when girls are interested me in. regrets are aplenty.

I guess nothing much has changed by way of political talk - how do people flirt “normally”? do people just talk about bitcoin and how they have hopes and dreams of finally booking a holiday to dubai? shit, i just want someone to talk to me about how badly they want the overton window to shift to the left so joe biden isn’t considered a raging communist any more, and then tell me that they appreciate my ass while they choke me out. i guess the bar is that low, now. but there’s plenty of fish in the sea, as they say.

as for you, please don’t be too happy about the collapse of my relationship. and don’t you dare try to reach out to me again, either. i have enough on my plate, with my nightmares cropping up once again as time draws closer to going back to the motherland. it’s been probably a decade since i last saw him in the flesh, and thinking about it is making my skin crawl and breath hasten. i hope i won’t ever be left alone with him; my fear makes me tremble even at the thought, because it’s the unknown of what could happen that brings me distress and trepidation. i don’t want to go through it again, because there’s just no telling how i’ll react. and the feelings of shame, disgust, loathing, and degradation keep washing over me as i relive what happened before. i just have to keep telling myself that it’ll be alright.

[lubdubsworld]

Change of Heart

Pairing : Taehyung x OC

[ Summary :

Times are changing.

After years of being oppressed, werewolves are taking a stand against humans , demanding equal rights and fair treatment. Heading the movement is Kim Taehyung, the breathtaking heir to the Kim fortune and one of the few remaining Alpha werewolves in the country. His disdain for the human race is well known and well warranted. They killed his family after all…..

He wants to change the world , to put humans in their place but when his five year old daughter takes a shine to their very human neighbor , maybe he has to start with a change of heart , first.  ]

Pairing : Taehyung x OC

Genre : Romance, Explicit Content.

Warnings : None. ( Some mild violence but mostly off screen )

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3

Chapter 4

The Preserve had originally been an isolated island about 50 miles off the coast of the mainland.  Over the decades, the land had been expanded with man made floats serving to support the extra buildings and complexes that cropped up to cater to the small human population that stuck around to help out. 

The wolves still kept to the interiors, most of them having built huge cottage-villas which could house the entire pack, territories marked out clearly to avoid disputes. A few of the very traditional ones lived on the huge mountains that lined the northern end, opting to stay in their wolf-forms most of the time. 

The island itself was beautiful, rich vegetation , a thriving fauna and a landscape that was lined with beautifully stark cliffs up high and private little coves and beaches scattered below. 

Taehyung and his daughter lived on a beautiful beach side villa, which had its own vegetable garden , a staff of over 8 to take care of everything, a private jetty for trips to the mainland and a helipad/ airstrip. 

True to his word, Taehyung did not stay around most days. He was busy with his campaign and I spent the first week recovering. The doctor visited everyday and by the end of the week, most of the internal injuries were healing well, the pain well managed with meds.

Luna had moved into my room, pretty much and I spent the days with her curled into my side, reading from her favorite books, stopping when she encountered a particularly difficult word, ebony eyes turning to mine for help. We read countless books, and she introduced me to all her best friends : Mr. Ted the bear, Kihyun the bunny and Momo the panda. The stuffed animals had a small baby carrier of their own and she liked carting them all around the house. 

“She was really pretty. Mama....” Luna whispered one night, as we lay curled on the window seat in my room, a fur throw covering us up as we stared out into the rocky beach far below. 

I felt my heart lurch in shared grief. 

“Was she? What else do you remember about her....?” I asked softly.

“Her scent. “ Luna said quickly. “ She smelled just like you. Like home and fresh cookies with sugar sprinkles. And rainy puddles you can jump in.” 

I bit my lips, mindful that Luna was just listing her favorite things. I didn’t know much about how weres scented other weres or humans. But i supposed it made sense that her mother’s scent should remind her of things that offered her comfort and joy. 

But her next words threw me for a loop. 

“Daddy didn’t like her much....” She said suddenly and I felt my throat close up . 

“Oh-Oh?” I was genuinely shocked. Taehyung had looked devastated when he had told me about his wife’s passing.... 

Luna shook her head. 

“My friend from school, Mina? Her mommy’s still alive and her daddy likes her. They kiss and stay in the same room. Mommy and Daddy never kissed. Mommy lived on the east wing.... That’s on the other side. Near the rose gardens.”

I bit my lips, feeling incredibly guilty for some reason. This information felt somehow private and not for stranger’s ears. I didn’t want Luna to get into trouble for saying this to me . 

“I miss her sometimes. I’m glad you’re here.” She sniffled and i felt my heart crack in two. The girl was replacing her mom with me, I thought miserably. I couldn’t in good conscience let this happen. 

But as the days stretched into weeks, with Taehyung out and busy most of the time, i couldn’t bring myself to leave. Luna did appear to be calmer, more grounded and happier with me around. She liked staying close to me, at touching distance and she often buried her nose into my neck, sniffing till I had to gently pry her off. 

Although, absent physically, Taehyung called every day. He facetimed his daughter twice at least and I got a call every night at exactly nine. It was usually curt and formal but he did tell me what he was upto.

“The elections are coming up soon.... I need to work a bit more on the immediate reforms we’re planning to launch...I won’t be available this week, Luna’s keeping well?” 

“Yes, she is. We made a modern recreation of red riding hood and the wolf today with play dough.” 

Silence.

“Interesting choice of fairy tale, Mi Rae ssi...” He drawled. 

I flushed at how my name sounded in that voice.

“It’s a bit different plot wise. In this case, the granny is just a meanie who likes to order Red about and the wolf is the one who rescues her.” I grinned.

He chuckled amicably.

“Bit of a stretch , that. But I’m glad you’re happy. I didn’t want to pressure you too much and i know its asking way too much of you . But Ms. Lee says that Luna is happier than she’s ever been and I do believe you’re the one I have to thank for that. “

I bit my lips. I wanted to tell him that Luna was getting way too attached. That I was afraid of what would happen when it was time for me to leave, but already i could hear voices in the background, people calling for his attention and I remembered that he was doing something important.

 He was trying to build a better world for his little girl. 

In the long run, all of this would be for Luna’s benefit only. 

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

it had been nearly a month since I’d last seen Taehyung . A whole three months since I’d moved into his villa. My paycheck as a nanny was three times what I was paid as a lab tech. But I hadn’t stopped working at the research facility either. I spent the days there, when Luna was busy with her school work . The vaccine had been successful but somehow, my father’s company had pulled some sort of nonsense with the patenting and not everyone had got the shorts. 

I stared out into the murky blue waters as they crashed into the jagged black rocks that lined the private beach. The huge bay windows in the living space offered an unfettered view of the rocky beach. 

Next to me, Luna was pretty much bouncing around, trying to find all her beach day toys. I watched her fondly, feeling something squeeze my heart when I thought about not seeing her again. The elections were done, the results were due any day now and Taehyung had already told me that he was looking to end this arrangement soon. 

Luna had a mind like no other. A vibrantly curious child with the most incredible questions, it was clear that she adored her father more than anything else in the world. In the evenings, she liked to play near the small water inlet that fed into the Ocean. The water was shallow, barely an inch or so deep, the terrain covered in small smooth pebbles in every shade of brown of grey.  

Luna and I  spent most of the weekends exploring the small beach around the villa, foraging around in the coves while her caregiver watched me covertly from a distance. She clearly didn’t trust me much, but I tried not to let it get to me.

I wasn’t here to stay. Taehyung had sent me a mail the previous week, letting me know that I was no longer had to babysit, because he was planning to move to Seoul himself. He would be renting out a condominium there and hiring a full time nanny. 

And that was fine. it wasn’t like i hadn’t seen that coming. I had a life of my own and i had to get back to it. My cottage near the research facility was fixed now and I was looking forward to getting back to my life, no matter how much it hurt to leave Luna behind. 

 I was a little upset that he had sent an impersonal mail to me instead of talking to me in person. Or maybe spoken about it over the phone at least. But I knew that he was just trying to make it easier for me to cut all ties. 

Okay, fine, maybe I was a little bit bitter that Taehyung hadn’t even offered to hire me to take care of Luna .  I wasn’t qualified , yes, but so far Luna had been a dream to stay with. She was so inquisitive and bright, so full of sunshine and happiness. 

After three months of her unconditional love for me,  the idea of not coming home to her vibrant laugh and endless giggles, it just felt so painful. 

“Rae Rae, let’s gooooo....” Her voice broke me out of my thoughts . Despite endless protests from Ms. Lee, Luna insisted on calling me Rae Rae and I found it adorable. 

I jumped a little, hastily moving to grab the sunscreen, the hat and gloves. While Luna did heal quickly courtesy her wolf-y genes, she was also incredibly prone to sunburn. The first few times, she had promptly shifted into her wolf form when i tried to put it on her, snipping my fingers angrily. The chemical was supposed to be unscented but her sensitive nose had clearly picked it up anyway. 

It took a lot of bribing with delicious meat patties and steak bites, for the girl to shift back and let me apply it on her.

But now she was comfortable with letting me apply it on her when we went to the beach. 

She picked up her backpack, a baby blue fur lined affair with twin bunny ears near the handle , and the small tote bag full of her collection of seashells and skipped out of the room happily. I finished packing the rest of her beach stuff : towels, napkins, hair pins and a change of clothes just in case. 

We were just climbing down the huge stairwell, when Taehyung’s voice rang through the foyer, startling me badly. i hadn’t seen him in a long time and against my better judgement I almost half ran back to put some make up on at least. I probably looked like an ogre with smeared sunscreen and my hair uncombed and in a bun. 

“Lu - Lu? Baby???” He called out, his deep voice pretty much reverberating off the walls .

“DAAAADAAAAAA” 

I watched her almost tumble headlong the stairs in her rush to get into her father’s arms and I hung back, letting them have their reunion. 

I waited till Taehyung called out for me, before moving to greet him as well. 

The first thing that stuck me was how incredibly handsome he looked, hair now fully black, swept straight back from his forehead. He was dressed in skinny jeans and a loose black shirt, buttons undone to show the lines of his pecs and a pair of dangly earrings caught the light as he turned to stare at me. 

“Mi Rae ssi....i see you’re all ready for Beach day?” He grinned softly.

There was something radiant about him, a definite lack of anxiety. He looked relaxed almost.

“You won?” i blurted out. “ You won didn’t you?”

Taehyung’s eyes glinted .

“Its not officially announced yet, but yes, the Commission called me today . They think I’ve won by a landslide.

Before I could rethink my impulse, I flung myself into his arms, genuinely thrilled beyond belief.

“RThat’s so incredible, Taehyung ssi...i’m so happy for you and-”

“Tae? Should I get the other suitcase?” 

The female voice made me jolt, and I pulled away, arm still arapped around his neck, intensely aware of his hands on my waist.

Three feet away from us , stood an incredibly beautiful young woman. She was almost as tall as Tae, probably the same age as him and her eyes flashed red when she looked at me. 

I flinched, stepping back like i’d been scalded.

“Just leave it sweetheart, one of my men will get it. Come meet my little girl.” Taehyung said casually, shooting me one brief intense look of.....anger? annoyance? I couldn’t figure it out.

 Sweetheart? did he just call her-

Luna had shuffled to hide behind my legs now, her fingers gripping my waist as she refused to greet the newcomer.

“Luna, this is Ms Jihyun. She’s a very good friend of mine.”

Jihyun dropped to her knees, eyes flashing red again as she smiled a tight lipped smile.

“Hello, Luna. How are you doing?” She said seriously. Luna’s grip on me tightened.

“She’s a little shy.” I choked out, trying to tamp down the rising sense of heartbreak. No. i had actively fought against feeling this way. Every night here, I had told myself that I would not think about Kim Taehyung. Admiring him for what he did , for how hard he worked for his kind....that was one thing ....but this. This was madness. 

Taehyung reached out around me to lift Luna up into her arms. 

“How about we go to the beach with Jihyun and Ms Lee today?” He said casually, holding his hand out to me.

I almost did something stupid, like press my hand into his before realizing that he was asking for the bag i had over my shoulders. Wordlessly, I handed it over. 

“I want to go with Rae Rae....” Luna said sharply, lips jutting out in a petulant little pout.  

“Well, Appa and Ms. Rae need to talk about something and once we’re done, I’ll join you there okay?” He ruffled her hair softly and then gently placed her back down. 

Luna gave me an imploring look.

“Are you leaving me?” Her lips wobbled.

I shook my head instinctively.

“Of course not baby, I’ll be right there. Just a few minutes, okay? Don't forget your sunscreen.” I smiled and Luna pouted again but moved to Ms. Lee’s side hesitantly. 

Taehyung waited till the three of them began leaving before turning to me. 

“Thank you.” He said quietly , gaze moving to me with the same intensity, and this time I knew what he was doing. He was trying to gauge what I was thinking and I remembered, weakly that Alpha wolves could sometimes sense moods, changes in a person’s body temperatures and things like that. It wasn’t like mind reading or anything but a perceptive enough werewolf could definitely guess what kind of mood someone was in.

I fought to keep my face neutral. There wasn’t much I could do about how clammy and cold my entire body had gone after meeting Jihyun. It wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to guess why I didn’t l;ike Jihyun there.

“It’s not you.” He said gently.

I swallowed.

“Sorry?”

“You’re beautiful. If we were.... the same kind of people.....I wouldn’t be saying this. But because of who we are.... I’m going to say it. It’s not a good idea.” He whispered.

I flushed, feeling like my entire body had been dipped in ice cold water.

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

He hummed.

“If you leave today, there’s a job waiting for you in the Research Center. It’s a level up from what you’re doing right now. I’ve asked them to put up extra security around your cabin and I’ve talked with the wolves here. No one will come anywhere near you. “ 

I nodded bleakly.

“Thank you.” I said quietly. 

“You’re going to forget me and Luna in a few weeks. And I would rather that things end now, before Luna becomes more attached.”

I nodded.

“Can i talk to her before I leave?” I asked softly.

He hesitated. 

“I don’t.... I mean, I would rather not have Jihyun be present for that. She’s.... well she’s someone I’m getting to know and she may feel -”

I wanted to kick myself in the face for ever having agreed to this whole thing.

“I understand. I’ll be back tomorrow morning to get the rest of my stuff and to say goodbye to Luna.” I said shortly. 

Before he could reply, I brushed past him and ran up to my room. I had to get out of here as soon as I could.

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

Luna cried inconsolably and I was eternally grateful that no one else was there when I carefully unpacked the huge carton of snacks and toys , I’d packed for her. Taehyung had made things a little easier, by telling Luna that it wasn’t me who was leaving but it would be them. They were going to a new place so they would be leaving me behind because I had stuff to do here. 

“I’m not going to be gone completely. I’m going to come visit you as often as I can alright and look....” I pulled out the small phone I’d brought her.

She stopped sniffling and held her hand out. I placed the flip phone in her hands.

“Theres just two numbers there. See the picture of the wolf? Thats daddy..... And see the one with the flower.....that’s me. If you want to talk to either of us, all you need to do is press this button.”

Luna hesitated.

“Daddy said, I can’t have any phones.” She said hesitantly. What a wonderful child, i thought fondly.

“Yes, but this isn’t the kind of phone that could hurt your eyes. It’s just a talking phone. Besides, your daddy already knows and he’s okay with it.” I smiled. 

She nodded, turning the little device over and over in her hands.

“Daddy say’s we’re going to the city. Why don’t you want to come?” She said angrily and i sighed.

“Its not that I don’t want to come, baby. It’s just that my home is here. I help take care of the little pups here remember? Some of them get sick and I help make them better....” I smiled, ruffling her hair. 

She nodded.

“Good girl...Now how about we go see the sandcastle you built yesterday...? See if it’s still there?”

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

Life went on and I found myself busy enough to not dwell on Taehyung too much. The vaccines were rolling out much faster now and most of the cases were milder . i spent the days in the research center and went home to my cozy cabin. Taehyung had been true to his word an an electric fence ran around the perimeter , twelve feet tall . A security guard stayed near the gate at all times, a beta werewolf named Minjun. 

Two weeks after Taehyung had moved out of the island, a distraction arrived in the form of one Jeon Jungkook . He was a year younger than me and finishing his internship before becoming a radiologist. He was smart , handsome and an alpha wolf with a deceptively cute bunny like smile.

Jungkook liked following me around when we had free time and I found his incessant noona , noona...endearing. But I was also not an idiot. 

Jungkook was looking for a fuck buddy and I was convenient. The only female in the research center. Werewolves didn’t do one night stands with each other, because being intimate always left a scent and it would make things messy. So weres  generally went to humans for no strings attached sex. 

It wasn’t that I minded , but a part of me was terrified i would do something stupid. Like call him Taehyung in the middle of us fucking. 

But of course, stupid decisions were my forte. 

So I did end up sleeping with him. 

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

“Well, you look miserable.” Jimin commented mildly, as I stumbled forward to the counter. I hadn’t slept much the previous night and had nearly missed the ferry to the mainland in the morning.

“I’m fine oppa. Just frazzled. Give me something strong but sweet...” I begged, riffling through my bag for my wallet. Outside, the rain poured in torrents. I was still dripping water from my hair and my jacket, although I’d been out of the rain for a whole five minutes. 

“Taehyung’s been asking about you....Why don’t you pick his calls?” Jimin said casually and I flinched. 

“I did pick his calls. a couple of times....” I muttered . 

That had been a whole experience. Taehyung had called me two weeks back, frothing at the mouth about something. 

Apparently, Ji Hyun the lovely girlfriend that Kim Taehyung like flaunting all over town, was also the older sister on one Jeon Jungkook. And because we had had sex the previous night, Jungkook had smelled like me when he visited Taehyung and Ji hyun. Even Luna had picked up on the scent.

How on earth was i supposed to know? 

Taehyung had been so furious that I’d hung up the phone midway through. 

“And, what happened?”

I shrugged.

“And then I got busy. Why? I’ve been talking to Luna... I even met her a couple of times. It’s not like I have any other reason to talk to him.... “ I protested.

Jimin hummed.

“He’s still seeing that model. Jeon Ji hyun? I heard her brother works in the Research center?” Jimin raised an eyebrow, sliding my drink across the counter. I stepped out of the line but stayed near the counter, staring at him. Damn it. Had Taehyung actually told Jimin about it? 

“Jungkook? Yeah. He’s a doctor... He’s doing his MD , radiology and he’s here for exposure , apparently...”

“Alpha?” Jimin continued flitting about, making orders but his tone held a note of sympathy. 

I shrugged.

“Yeah, he is. But we don’t talk much. We went out one night but then he’s been aloof ever since.” I shrugged again hoping that Jimin was buying my nonchalant act. i still didn’t know how much he knew. 

Jungkook was a nice guy and I was a little peeved that he didn’t seem to want anything more than a friends with benefits thing. But that had less to do with him and more to do with the fact that men, in general, never seemed to consider me as a potential girlfriend. 

But then, the poor guy was in probably the most crucial part of his education. Relationships were probably the farthest thing from his mind. 

Jimin stopped when the last customer in the line left. He stared at me. 

“Taehyung told me Luna called you one morning and Jungkook picked the phone.” 

I froze.

“What?!” I hissed, completely thrown. This, I hadn’t known. 

“You went out? With Jungkook?  And he stayed over , I’m guessing....I’m going to go out on a limb and say that you guys did not play Jenga all night?” He glared at me. I flushed.

“Fine. We slept together. We are sleeping together....its just consensual sex between two willing parties,  . It’s no big deal.” I said flippantly.

“You don’t think that’s why Taehyung has been calling you? That’s his potential brother in law right there. It’s too messy. I think you should stop. ” He frowned. 

I rolled my eyes.

“Listen it has nothing to do with me. I’m not going to marry Jungkook okay? I’m not going to be calling Taehyung my brother in law either. Its not going to happen. i just had this...stupid king of crush on him and he knew about it. He turned me down too, did he tell you that. He told me him and I were too different.... meaning I wasn’t a were so he wouldn’t consider being with someone like me. ”

Jimin groaned. 

“you know why he feels that way. Don’t make this about you. It’s not personal.”

“Then why is it spilling into my personal life? I have no obligation to him. I can sleep with who I want.....”

Jimin rolled his eyes.

“Taehyung’s a were. He’s not going to see it that way.” 

“Well, I don’t give a damn how he sees it, I’m having sex with a handsome young man who is attracted to me. That’s a good time, right there and I’m not going to stop having a good time just because it offends Taehyung’s delicate sensibilities.” I snapped. 

Jimin shrugged.

“Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.” 

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

When I went back to my cabin that evening, I found Minjun missing from his usual place near the gate. The gate was still locked so I didn’t think too much about it, merely slotting the rusty old key into the huge lock and prying it open. 

I made my way to the door, opening it carefully. 

i nearly jumped out of my skin when I saw who was there. 

“what the- Seo Joon?” I said in disbelief, stumbling back when the tall alpha stumbled to his feet from where he was lounging on the couch. 

“Well, look who’s here....if it isn’t the slutty little bitch who wants to sleep her way through every were on the island....First Taehyung and now Jungkook.....you sure know who to pick, huh.....? All powerful, influential wolves..... “ He slurred.

I stared at him. This wasn’t good. I turned on my heel, ready to run back out but he was faster than me. I groaned when he slammed into my back pinning me to the door with so much force that the wood splintered,. 

While my bruised ribs had healed, they still hurt a bit. And the force of his actions left my mind reeling from the pain. 

“Get off me!! “ I screamed, “ MINJUN!!!!! MINJUN HELP!!!” 

“SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU WHORING BITCH!!!”

He slapped me right across the face, the strength of it sending me crashing into the side table. I whimpered as I tried to get on my feet, fingers fumbling for my phone .

“it was you wasn’t it? I was supposed to be the deputy minister.... Taehyung’s supposed to be my fucking friend. instead i got fired like some lowly runt ...... It was you wasn’t it? you convinced him that humans are our fucking friends....” 

I shook my head, frantic.

“No...i swear I’ve not spoken to Taehyung...i didn’t say anything... Seo Joon please don’t...” I screamed when he reached down and grabbed my hair, yanking me to my feet till my scalp felt like it was on fire.

“Maybe I should fuck you too....since that's the thing people seem to be doing these days....Its because of your father isn’t it? That bastard has been all over the news,  talking these past few weeks about how his precious daughter is doing a lot of work for the welfare of wolves....Maybe I should fuck his daughter too....  ” He began, reaching for my blouse. 

I barely registered the nonsense about my father before a loud sound broke through the din. 

The door swung open and the sound of gunfire made me scream.

 I stared at the door only to see the security guard staring at us with wide eyes. 

Minjun , panicked and completely overwhelmed , had blindly opened fire on both of us. 

I felt the touch of the bullet to my shoulder, before the blinding explosion of pain.

 But he seemed to have hit Seo Joon as well, enough times for the were to let go of me and I crashed to floor, clutching my shoulder in agony. 

The sound of gunfire had attracted more people and through the throng I heard Jungkook’s voice.

“Noona.... Mirae noona is that you----???”

“Kookie!!” I croaked out desperately. Jungkook’s eyes went wide when he saw, me, pushing his way past the other wolves before letting out a snarl. The sound seemed to make the others cower and I remembered that he was an alpha too. 

I gripped his arms when he reached me. 

“Don’t tell Taehyung...” I gasped out, still clutching  my shoulder. 

“God, what the fuck.... We need to get you out of here...” He was already dialing for the ambulance. I waited for him to finish, gasping from the pain. Fuck, it hurt like hell. 

“We’re going to get you to the research center first.” Jungkook said frantically.  

I nodded, stumbling to my feet when he tried to lift me up. 

“It’s okay...just...get me something to …” But he was already peeling off his shirt, wadding up to press against the bleeding bullet hole .

“Hyung is going to kill Seo Joon.” He said grimly. 

For once, I didn’t particularly care. 

My mind raced because I hadn’t thought about my father in years. 

What did that tyrant want with me now??

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

Author’s Note : Me trying to finish all my fics and not lose my mind in the process :’( 

[emospritelet]

Heatstroke - chapter 24/24

Last time, Gold confronted Zelena over trying to frame Regina, and Lacey caught the whole show on tape. This is the final chapter! Happy endings FTW!

[AO3]

x

Lacey set down the camera on the shop counter, and raised an eyebrow at Gold.

“So,” she said. “What do you want to do?”

He inclined his head, lifting a hand and letting it fall.

“It appears you have a story to tell about Miss West,” he remarked. “I feel the choice is very much yours. Perhaps Mr Glass can be persuaded that running an exposé is in the public interest.”

Lacey hesitated.

“Yeah, I think he would,” she acknowledged. “It’s just - Mayor Mills doesn’t know, does she? About Zelena.”

“I don’t think so.”

“I think maybe we should tell her,” said Lacey. “Before it all comes out, I mean. That would be the decent thing to do, wouldn’t it?”

“It would,” he agreed, and let out a heavy sigh, his head rolling back. “Well, that’s unfortunate.”

“What is?”

He raised his head again, sending her a stern look.

“It appears I’ve discovered a conscience,” he said. “The rumour was I didn’t have one. I blame you for this outrage.”

Lacey giggled, and leaned in to kiss him.

“Does that mean you’ll come with me to break the news?” she asked, and he offered his arm.

“To the Mayor’s office,” he said. “I’m sure Regina will be just delighted to see us.”

-

“This can’t be true.” Regina was staring at Lacey’s phone, having watched the recording twice. “This - this is impossible!”

“This must be a hell of a shock,” said Lacey, and Regina shook her head.

“I always thought she disliked me, but Mal told me I was being paranoid,” she said. “All this time she was plotting to ruin my life because my mother abandoned her? The nerve of the woman!”

“I guess sibling rivalry’s tough to deal with,” said Lacey. “Makes me glad I’m an only child.”

“Well, she certainly has my mother’s ambition and vindictiveness,” said Regina, with a sigh. “I don’t suppose you know anything about the father?”

“I’m afraid not,” said Gold. “Did your mother ever hint that you had a half-sister?”

Regina shook her head.

“She never spoke about her youth,” she said. “Other than to tell me she had to fight for anything she could get and I should do the same.”

She handed the phone back to Lacey and frowned at Gold.

“Exactly how long have you known about this?” she demanded, and he smiled.

“I heard what you did,” he said.

“That wasn’t what I asked,” she said coldly. “I know you, Gold. Were you holding onto this information until it was of use to you?”

“You think I’m working against you?” he asked, in a mild tone.

“I think you never do anything that doesn’t benefit you.”

“Well, perhaps you don’t know me as well as you think,” he said. “Or perhaps we assess risks and benefits differently. Either way, you have Miss French to thank for the investigation of her past and this recording. I merely - encouraged a confession.”

“Quite the sleuthing team,” said Regina, in a dry tone. “Can we expect a new office in town? French Gold, Private Investigators?”

“I don’t mind investigating his privates,” said Lacey, and Gold shot her a very level look as Regina curled her lip.

“Thanks, I’m going to spend the rest of the evening trying and failing to get that image out of my head.”

“You’re welcome,” said Lacey cheerfully.

“The question for you,” said Gold, “is how are you going to handle this? Miss French has quite a scoop on her hands, but she wanted to bring it to you first before raising it with Mr Glass.”

Regina shot Lacey a grateful look before sitting back in her chair with a sigh.

“There’s supposed to be a debate,” she said. “The two of us up on stage. You think it’s her intention to reveal the whole sordid story in front of the whole town?”

“I don’t believe she wants the rest of the town to know,” said Gold. “If they did, then her whole campaign reeks of sour grapes. She’ll want to play on the image she’s created while she’s been here. However inaccurate it is.”

Regina growled under her breath.

“I can’t believe I’m having to go through this charade!” she snapped. “I’m supposed to stand there and - and debate her when she’s trying to frame me for corruption and destroy my life!”

“We don’t have any actual evidence that she’s tried to frame you,” said Lacey, and Regina nodded impatiently.

“I know, I know. Nothing court worthy on that tape, however much she hinted at it,” she said. “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to hand it over to the Sheriff, get him to look into it.”

“If you agree to an exclusive interview with me after the debate, sure,” said Lacey quickly, and almost blushed as Gold shot her an approving look. Regina drummed her fingers on the desk.

“She’s far too good for you, Gold,” she said abruptly. “I hope you know that.”

He smirked at that, winking at Lacey.

“Oh, I’m well aware.”

-

Gold was finding it hard to stop grinning like an idiot now that he and Lacey were dating, and even found himself unexpectedly granting rent extensions, much to the surprise of nervous tenants. He made dinner for her again later in the week, and she stayed the night, Darcy curled at their feet as they drifted into sleep. It was pleasant being nuzzled awake by a purring cat and finding Lacey in his arms. It was a feeling he could get used to.

They had eventually managed to finish the interview, most of which was carried out in bed, and he had found himself telling her things he had previously had no intention of revealing. He blamed that on Lacey; it was difficult to maintain his usual cool distance when she was wearing his discarded shirt and looking at him as though he was a particularly delicious snack. She kept her word about giving him the final say on the article, however, and upon reading her draft, he noted that she had kept some of the more personal details to herself. He only felt the need to redact a couple of minor points about his early life, but was happy to let the remainder stand as it was. If the rest of Storybrooke was surprised at the intimacy of the piece and his sudden desire to be open about his life - well, they could all go and fuck themselves, as far as he was concerned.

The only opinions he cared about were those of his family, and it wasn’t too long before Neal called. Gold sighed as he looked at the number flashing on his phone. They’re gonna tease me relentlessly about this. Emma especially.

Shaking his head and smirking to himself, he picked up.

“Dad, hi,” said Neal. “Thought you might have called to let us know how your big social occasion went. You’re not avoiding the issue, right?”

“Of course not,” said Gold. “Been a busy week, that’s all.”

“Uh-huh. Emma thought you’d say that.” Neal sounded amused. “She’s been dying to find out about the dance, so I said I’d call for an update.”

“Tell her she needs a better hobby than worrying about my social life,” said Gold dryly. “How’s Henry? I was wondering what to get for his birthday.”

“Nice attempt at deflection, but I’m not done with you,” said Neal. “Come on, how did it go?”

“Uh - it was fine,” said Gold.

“Did you ask Lacey to dance, like I said?”

“Yes.” Gold hesitated. “We’re - uh - sort of dating now.”

Neal whooped, making him grin.

“Way to go! See, I knew you could do it!”

“Yes, well.” Gold scratched the back of his neck, feeling awkward. “It’s early days, I suppose. Very early days, but it’s going well.”

“I am so happy for you, really. Wait until I tell Emma.”

“She’s gonna tease me, isn’t she?” said Gold dryly.

“No more than usual.”

“A lot, then.”

“Hey, her teasing comes from a place of love.”

“Hmm.” Gold was amused. “Well, you can tell her I love her too.”

“And you can tell Lacey we can’t wait to meet her,” said Neal, and Gold’s grin widened.

“I believe the feeling’s mutual,” he said.

“Good. How about in two weeks’ time?”

Gold smirked to himself.

“Excellent timing,” he said. “It’s the Mayoral debate and election.”

“I’m almost certain we can find something better to do than listen to some crusty old politicians.”

“I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised,” said Gold. “It could be an interesting night.”

-

The evening of the debate arrived more quickly than Lacey thought possible, and she was nervous about more than just reporting the evening’s events. Gold’s son and daughter-in-law were due any minute, and there was a tiny part of her that kept whispering that they wouldn’t approve, that they would wonder why the hell Gold, with his money and power and class, was dating the likes of her. Stressing over her coverage of the election was a welcome distraction from the unwelcome internal monologue, and she concentrated on getting her things together for the debate, checking the recording equipment on Gold’s kitchen table and fretting about the sound quality.

“You’ve already checked it three times,” he said. “It’s fine.”

“I’m supposed to be writing the front page article!” she snapped. “What happens if I fuck up and don’t get anything recorded? I’m gonna look like a total idiot and Sidney won’t trust me with anything more complex than the hot dog eating contest!”

“I can record everything on my phone, if you’re worried,” he said. “Besides, don’t you do shorthand?”

“Yeah, but—”

“You’ll be fine,” he said gently, and kissed her head. “I promise.”

The doorbell rang, and Lacey started, heart thumping.

“Relax, that’ll be Neal and Emma,” said Gold, heading for the door. Lacey frowned at his back.

“Relax, my arse,” she muttered, shoving the recording equipment into its bag.

There were voices from the hall, and a sudden burst of laughter, and she closed her eyes, willing herself to calm the hell down. Footsteps from the doorway made her look up, and she was greeted by a warm smile and an outstretched hand. Gold’s son had his eyes, and curling dark hair above a ready grin.

“I’m Neal,” he said. “Really pleased to meet you.”

“Lacey,” she said, shaking his hand. “Uh - likewise.”

She was reminded vividly of the fact that she had flashed him on their first encounter, and felt a blush start to rise in her cheeks. If Neal was thinking of it too, he was better at hiding it than she was. His wife was a pretty blonde, with a kind look in her eyes and a plump baby in her arms, who was glancing around curiously at everything.

“This is Emma,” added Neal, “and that’s Henry.”

“We’ve heard a lot about you,” said Emma, shooting Gold a teasing look.

“Well, I won’t ask if it was all good, because I’m willing to bet it wasn’t,” said Lacey, and they chuckled.

“Maybe not at first,” admitted Emma. “Don’t hold it against the old bastard, though.”

“Oh, believe me, the feeling was mutual,” said Lacey.

“I’m standing right here,” said Gold evenly.

Lacey caught Emma’s eye and returned her grin. She felt herself relax a little, and leaned over to kiss Gold’s cheek.

“We got there in the end,” she said. “Uh - how hungry are you guys? I didn’t even think about dinner.”

She shot Gold a look, hoping that he would suggest something, and he nodded.

“We’ll head to Granny’s after the debate,” said Gold. “I have no doubt that Lacey will be demonstrating her excellent skill as a journalist, and I’d hate for you to miss it.”

“No pressure then,” said Lacey, and he smiled.

“You’re writing the article for the Mirror front page,” he said. “You have an exclusive with the Mayor herself after the debate. Sidney Glass clearly believes you to be as capable as I do.”

“Yeah, because I got that interview with you,” she said. “I didn’t tell him we were naked when I got most of that info.”

Neal closed his eyes with a pained expression.

“Shows ingenuity if you ask me,” said Emma abruptly. “I can usually get a ton of stuff out of Neal when we’re naked. Must run in the family.”

It was Gold’s turn to look pained. Neal put his hands over his face with a heavy sigh, and Lacey and Emma chuckled. Lacey decided that she liked both Emma and Neal very much. She zipped her bag and nodded to Gold.

“Okay,” she said. “Wish me luck.”

-

The town hall was filled with residents, chatting amongst themselves and casting curious glances at the empty stage. Ruby was seated next to Leroy on the third row back, and she winked at Lacey as she and Gold took their own seats. Ruby had been delighted to hear that the two of them had started seeing one another, and had only made a salacious comment to Gold on one occasion. Maybe two.

“Big turnout,” said Neal, glancing around. “I had no idea the people in this town were so into politics.”

“Usually they don’t bother,” said Gold. “The Mayor getting some competition appears to have piqued their interest.”

As though his voice had summoned her, Regina walked onto the stage, chin held high, looking calm and competent in a sharp black suit. Zelena followed, in a green dress with a soft silk scarf around her neck and gold hoops in her ears. A green folder was tucked under her arm, her hair tied up, and Lacey thought she was going for the image of a respectable school teacher. A gleam in her eye spoiled the look.

Dr Hopper was moderating the debate, and Lacey quickly checked her recording equipment and opened her laptop, rattling off a few sentences about the tense atmosphere of the hall and the opening statements from each of the candidates. Zelena gave a speech about decency and traditional values, at which Regina seemed to be stopping herself from rolling her eyes with some difficulty. Regina spoke of her record on town planning, law and order—she shot Zelena a look at that point—and prosperity.

“Thank you, ladies,” said Dr Hopper, when she was done. “Now, perhaps we’ll go to some questions from the press before we deal with those the townsfolk have submitted.”

“I have a question for Miss West,” said Lacey, in a loud, clear voice, shoving her laptop at Gold as she got to her feet.

Zelena’s mouth twisted, her smile more of a grimace.

“Of course,” she said lightly. “It’s - uh - I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten your name.”

She waved a languid hand, and Lacey felt her mouth flatten.

“Lacey French, Storybrooke Mirror,” she said evenly, and Zelena let out a tinkling laugh.

“Of course, silly me,” she trilled. “How could I forget Storybrooke’s eager young reporter? Lending the local newspaper such an air of class in that - lovely - outfit.”

There was a muttering amongst the townsfolk, and Lacey distinctly heard Ruby say ‘What a bitch!’, but she smiled sweetly as though she hadn’t understood the insult.

“Yeah, I have a question about your motivation for running for Mayor,” she said. “You said yourself you’ve never been involved in politics, so what inspired you to make this move now?”

Zelena smiled widely.

“Well, as I said, I thought about where I could do the most good,” she said. “Storybrooke is a wonderful town, with many excellent qualities, but talking to its residents has made me realise that there’s a feeling that it may be lacking direction. I sense a need for a return to the basics of community. Neighbourliness. Family values. The traditions of small-town America that we all grew up with.”

“But you grew up in England,” said Lacey. “Wasn’t your father a diplomat? How do you know this view of America is either accurate or desirable?”

Zelena’s nostrils flared as she continued to smile brightly.

“Well,” she said. “Who’s been doing her homework?”

“Yeah, it’s just that people hear politicians mention tradition and family values, and all too often it’s a smoke-screen to hide racism and homophobia,” went on Lacey. “How would you address those concerns?”

Zelena spread her hands.

“I’d say look at my record,” she said. “Since I moved here I’ve made it clear that I’m happy to work with people of all backgrounds. It’s important that no one feels left out, and my initial conversations have led me to believe that there are concerns, and that some residents feel that their interests are not - fully appreciated - by the Mayor.”

“What kind of interests?” asked Lacey quickly, before Zelena could turn away, and her mouth twisted again as she tried to keep smiling.

“As I said, some feel that traditional family values are being lost in the push for modernity,” she said. “I’d like to reassure them that I stand for everything that Storybrooke represents. Decency. Morality.”

“Does that mean you think the Mayor is immoral?” asked Lacey, and Zelena pulled a face.

“I think there have been some questionable decisions at city hall under her watch, yes,” she said. “Does anyone really think that a seedy bar called Queens of Darkness is fitting for this town?”

“It’s a jazz club,” said Regina. “And there’ll be dance lessons each week. A perfectly respectable establishment, run by three accomplished businesswomen.”

Zelena let out that insincere laugh again, and Lacey sat down, retrieving her laptop from Gold and opening it up as Zelena addressed the room.

“Well, it’s not only the company the Mayor keeps,” she said. “We’ve all heard the rumours. Missing money, accounts not holding quite as much as people thought…”

“That’s an outrageous lie,” said Regina coldly. “Where’s your evidence, Miss West?”

Zelena smirked, as though she had been waiting for that very question. She held up the green folder, showing it to the room.

“I have the evidence right here,” she announced. “A brave employee of city hall managed to smuggle this out to me. Evidence that the Mayor has been embezzling town funds!”

There was a shocked intake of breath around the room. Lacey typed furiously.

“How dare you!” snapped Regina. “That’s a lie and you know it!”

“I believe this is my allotted time to speak!” Zelena snapped back. “I think the people of Storybrooke deserve to know exactly who you really are, don’t you? They should understand the choice before them!”

The doors at the end of the hall opened, and there was the sound of heavy boots on the floor. Zelena looked surprised, and then somewhat nervous, and a low-level muttering started up in the audience. Lacey glanced over her shoulder, watching as Sheriff Graham Humbert walked towards the stage with his deputy Dorothy Gale by his side. Regina appeared to be drumming her fingers on the lectern, and Lacey couldn’t work out whether it was anxiety or impatience.

“Miss West,” said Graham. “We’d like you to come with us, please.”

“Why?” demanded Zelena. “I’m a little busy winning this election, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“It’s a matter of obstruction of justice,” said Graham. “If you could come to the station, please.”

Zelena opened and closed her mouth, a sudden flicker of fear in her eyes.

“What if I say no?”

“I’d prefer not to have to handcuff you,” said Graham.

“But we will if we have to,” added Dorothy, folding her arms.

“This is a conspiracy!” blurted Zelena, waving a finger at Regina. “Did the Mayor put you up to this? This is exactly the kind of corruption I’m talking about! The Sheriff being used as the Mayor’s enforcer!”

“Miss West…”

“Mayor Mills will do whatever it takes to silence me!” she went on. “She’s scared I’ve exposed her for what she is!”

“Miss West, I didn’t want to have to arrest you, but…”

“One hint of competition and she calls in her - her goon squad to crush it!”

“Oh, for God’s sake, I know you’re my sister!” said Regina loudly.

Silence fell, and Lacey hurriedly typed a few sentences, describing the shocked atmosphere of the town hall. Zelena was staring at Regina, eyes wide and nostrils flaring.

“I wasn’t going to mention it,” said Regina, curling her lip. “I wanted to give you a chance to be a decent person and deal with this in an honourable way. But since you’re determined to try to ruin my life for no good reason, then yes. I’m well aware we share the same mother, and frankly she’d be disappointed at this pathetic bid for attention.”

“How dare you—”

“I believe it’s my turn to speak,” interrupted Regina. “We’ve listened to enough of your rambling this evening. Since you’d been dropping hints about corruption in my office, I had Sheriff Humbert investigate. He told me earlier this evening that someone had been planting evidence to try to frame me. No doubt that’s what he wants to speak to you about.”

“This is—”

“The residents of Storybrooke know how seriously I take my duties as Mayor,” Regina went on, addressing the room as a whole now. “They know that I value their support and their trust. Of course I’d want any threat to that to be investigated. I’m just - I’m beyond disappointed that the threat comes from my half-sister.”

Her voice echoed around the silent room. Lacey was watching the townsfolk avidly, their eyes fixed on Regina as she spoke.

“I had no idea that my mother had had a daughter before me, no idea that I had another family member out there in the world,” she went on. “Her coming to Storybrooke should have been a time of joy and reunion. But instead of her reaching out to me, she tries to undermine me, to take away the most important job I have in this town.”

She looked down, shaking her head, and Gold leaned in close.

“I wonder how much of this is for the benefit of the voters and how much is genuine,” he murmured.

“Maybe fifty-fifty,” Lacey whispered back, and he nodded in agreement.

Regina raised her head, taking a deep breath, as though steeling herself for something unpleasant. Graham and Dorothy had edged towards the stage, Dorothy removing the cuffs from her belt.

“All I can do now,” said Regina, “is trust that justice will take its course.”

“You know nothing about justice!” shouted Zelena, as the Sheriff started reading her her rights. “You’ll pay for this! All of you!”

She was still yelling when Dorothy handcuffed her and marched her from the room. The sound of the doors closing was very loud in the silence that remained.

“Well,” said Regina, placing her hands on the lectern and looking around the room. “I think we can all agree that this was one of the more - eventful - political debates this town has seen.”

There was a ripple of nervous laughter, and she smiled.

“I truly hope that Miss West gets the help she so desperately needs,” she went on. “And when she has, I want her to know that she’s welcome to visit with Mallory and I. After all, we may not be able to choose our family, but that makes it all the more important to nurture the bonds we share with those around us.”

There were noises of agreement from the audience, and Gold leaned in close again.

“Ever the politician,” he murmured, and Lacey nodded.

“Storybrooke is like an extended family to me,” went on Regina, “and all families have their moments of conflict and frustration, but underneath that there is respect for one another, and a common set of values. I believe I have lived by those values for every year that I’ve served as your Mayor. I will always reach out to those in need and I will always act in the best interests of this town. Under my leadership, Storybrooke will continue to prosper. I guarantee it.”

There was applause, and a couple of cheers, and Regina nodded, looking extremely self-satisfied. She started taking questions, and Gold kissed Lacey’s cheek and whispered that he would see her in the diner when she was done. She watched him leave with his family, Emma balancing the baby on her hip and Neal pushing the stroller after them. Lacey turned back to listen to Regina field a question about the state of the town’s roads, bent her head to her laptop, and began typing up her article on the Mayoral debate.

She emailed the article over to Sidney before leaving for the diner, and walked back there with Ruby, who was chattering about the drama that had unfolded. Regina had been in her element when answering the remaining questions, and Lacey had felt a surge of satisfaction over her part in exposing a crime. Perhaps small town life offered the chance for rewarding work after all. She could see Gold and his family through the window, and his face lit up as she entered, making her stomach flip. Damn the man. I’m falling in love with him.

“Excellent job this evening,” he said, getting up to pull her chair out and kissing her cheek. “I got you a rum and coke, I hope that’s okay.”

“Perfect,” she said fervently, and took a slurp, relishing the taste on her tongue.

“How’d the Mayor look at the end of all that?” asked Emma, and Lacey pulled a face.

“The whole place gave her a round of applause, and she was looking about as satisfied as she could, I guess,” she said. “I still feel kind of sorry for her. Not every day you find out you have a half sister. Especially one that’s out to get you.”

“Well, it could have been a lot worse,” said Gold. “I very much doubt Miss West will present much of a challenge from a jail cell.”

Lacey nodded, taking another sip of her drink.

“Does this mean you and Regina are friends now?” she asked, and Gold smirked.

“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far,” he said. “What’s that term the kids use these days?”

“Frenemies?”

“That’s the one.”

“Kind of like we were,” she observed, and he laughed.

“Regina would fillet me with a letter opener if I even contemplated looking at her the way I look at you.”

“No, I don’t mean that,” she said. “I just meant - well, we kind of had that thing where we poked at each other to get a reaction, right?”

Gold looked as though he was trying very hard not to laugh, and she swatted his arm.

“Stop thinking about dirty stuff! You know what I mean!”

“I do,” he acknowledged. “And I, for one, am very glad that we - er - got the reaction we wanted.”

“You’re still thinking about dirty stuff, aren’t you?” said Emma shrewdly, and Gold shrugged.

“Maybe a little.”

-

They ate ribs, sticky with Granny’s special sauce, licking it from their fingers and washing it down with beer and wine and rum. By the time they got out into the cool night air, Lacey felt wonderfully tipsy, and regretted putting on her high heels earlier in the evening. At least there was no one else around to see if she fell on her arse, she supposed. Neal and Emma were walking ahead, pushing the stroller and talking quietly, and Lacey let out a sigh, slipping her arm through Gold’s for support, and resting her head on his shoulder.

“I ate too much,” she said, and Gold chuckled.

“We all ate too much.”

“You didn’t throw half of it over your lap, though.”

“No, I thought I’d leave that to you.”

“Stupid gravity,” muttered Lacey, and he laughed, squeezing her arm with his.

“Tired?” he asked.

“Yeah. Long day.”

“Maybe you should have an early night.”

She glanced up at him, and he was grinning at her, his eyes twinkling.

“How’s that gonna work?” she asked flatly. “Your family’s staying over. No way I’m letting you give me screaming orgasms while they’re in the room next door.”

“In that case I could sneak over to yours,” he suggested. “You could scream to your heart’s content.”

Lacey giggled, barging him affectionately with her shoulder.

“I think I love you, Mr Gold,” she said, and Gold stopped dead, turning to face her with a stunned look on his face.

“Really?”

Lacey turned to face him, taking his hand.

“Really,” she said. “I mean I’m kind of drunk, but that’s not why I’m saying it. I think I’ve sort of been in love with you for a while now. Is that okay?”

He was staring at her, wide-eyed, and a softness seemed to spill over his features, making his eyes gleam as he smiled.

“Well,” he said. “I think I love you, too, Miss French. Is that okay?”

“More than okay.”

He seemed to hesitate for a moment, then raised his chin.

“D’you want to move in?” he asked.

“Can I bring Darcy?”

“Of course.”

“Then you got a deal.”

He was grinning, and she found herself grinning back, her heart swelling with love for him.

“Let’s wait until after Neal and Emma go before I move in, though,” she said. “I think you said something about screaming orgasms?”

Gold’s grin turned wicked, and he bent his head to kiss her.

“I’ll be over later.”

She let his lips pull at hers, leaning in to feel the warmth of his body as his arms went around her, and let out a sigh of contentment. Yes. Life in a small town could be amazing.

[akaashisupremacy]

How to Find Love

Summary: Iwaizumi is on a quest to find love with an old friend. What can he do to get there?

Iwaizumi x fem!reader/Oc || Read it on A03

Genre : romance, friends to lovers

Hajime Iwaizumi ran into the cafe, eyes wide and panicky. “I’m already twenty minutes late for the date.”

As he composed himself before he entered the place, he took a deep breath. He was determined to enjoy this date because it might be their last. Hiromi had never taken lateness kindly.

“Gomen, the meeting ran longer than expected,“ he said, nodding his head into a bow, too embarrassed to meet her eyes, “I’m so sorry.”

She looked up from her books with a weary smile. Beside her was a pile of four or five books, some of which were beginning to yellow, meticulously tabbed with colorful post-its.

“You still made it,” she said, closing her book “I usually walk out if my date was a full hour late.”

It was a Thursday. She had an afternoon at the library while he had an early off (if it wasn’t for his work meeting). Neither of them worked traditional 9 to5 jobs. He began to wonder if seeing each other would be easier if they did. Iwa was leaving on a Friday for Osaka for the rest of the weekend. He was a physical trainer for a professional volleyball team, which meant that he travelled with them during their season.

They called for a menu and began to order what would be their dinner.

“How’s work?” he asked, surveying her through the menu.

“It’s a lot of reading,” she gestured towards her stack of books, “But we’re at the beginning of a new research-heavy campaign so it’s normal. How about you?"

“Mmm…it’s still the start of the season so most of the team is quite healthy. Some of them are a little excited so we’re just trying to reign them in to keep them from straining themselves.” he said, thumbing through the pages.

He had settled for a hamburg curry rice while she had gone for a bowl of tuna pasta. She looked distracted.

“What’s up?” he asked, leaning into the table now that the niceties were done with.

“I like my job. I like my team. But why do I feel like I’m just grinding day in and day out." she sighed, resting her chin on her books, “There’s got to be more in adult life than this."

“You’ve got to find the reason out on your own because your employer won’t do it for you. Not that I’m qualified to give advice or anything.” he said, looking up from his drink.

“I know,” she murmured, her head rested between her folded arms “It’s just so difficult to find the energy for it sometimes.”

Iwaizumi nodded. He knew what she meant. No one job could fulfill all his desires for accomplishment. He liked his job, but it wasn’t a perfect job. He wished that he didn’t need to spend so many weekends away from home.

Man, this date was sobering.

“You sound burnt out. Maybe take it slower at work?” he quirked his head to match the angle of hers.

“What is it that you want to do that you’re not doing for work?” he asked. Despite less than a year in the workforce, she already looked so glum.

She pulled herself up and swept her books aside, “I don’t know to be honest. Within the next two years, I just want to be published in other big publications. It doesn’t have to be necessarily on food, more like the stuff I write for fun. The stuff I’m willing to freelance while I have a day job, y’know?”

“Like what?”

Their order had arrived. She stabbed her fork into her pasta and gently twirled it around.

“The New York Times has a column called Modern Love where you write a long essay about some type of love. It doesn’t have to be romantic. It can be platonic, familial, or even failed love as long as it is set in modern day. I’ve been meaning to write about my failed relationships.” she said thoughtfully.

Iwa choked on his first spoonful.

“Well, if this doesn’t work out, I can at least write about it. Get three hundred dollars and buy you dinner to thank you for the experience.” she laughed drily.

“Are you always this pessimistic on your first dates?” he coughed, taking a sip of water “Either ways, I’m glad to be of help.”

She perked up a bit and grinned. Her whole face lit up when she smiled. A wave of warmth washed over him.

“Send me a copy when you get published.” he added, “I want to see what you write about me.”

“I’m definitely going to writet that you were late on the first date.” she said without skipping a beat. She was grateful that they had chosen this cafe. There were not too many people even if it was dinner time, yet the ambient noise that filled the air kept their pauses from being too silent.

Iwa stopped eating and squinted his eyes at her, “You are not gonna let me live this down, huh?" She winked at him with a glint in her eye. He smiled in response.

He couldn’t care less about what the New York Times was but she was evidently fascinated by it. He wasn’t going to own up to uncultured swine he was on a first date. He had already been late.

“Anyways tell me more about this Modern Love.” he settled back into his dinner.

She pulled out her phone and began typing, “The Modern Love column came out with questions to help get to know someone. This could be a fun date activity.”

“Sure, you want to give it a go?”

She shoved the phone in his face and scrolled through the questions. “There are three sets of questions. Each set more intimate than the last. You can choose from the first set.”

Iwa lightly held the phone, his fingertips grazing the back of her hand. He chose the first question that caught his eye.

“Number 4. What would constitute a ‘perfect’ day for you?” he read out loud. Hiromi took her phone back and read the question to herself.

“What’s your answer?” she asked.

“I just got back, I hadn’t figured out what a perfect day would be like here.” he shrugged sincerely.

She snorted loudly, “What a cop out answer!”

Iwa looked up and thought for a bit, “A day spent walking around in the city…maybe a day that starts with a morning jog and a hot unrushed breakfast after. Catching up with friends sounds good too.”

Hiromi nodded. She was fully absorbed as he talked. It was like she was going through the scenes of his day in his mind as he described them.

“What about you?” he asked, snapping out of her out of her reverie.

“A day at the market,” she said quietly. ”Any market day is a good day really.”

“To be honest, it doesn’t depend on the activities so much at times. The people you’re with is definitely important. A day at the market can still be terrible with the wrong company.” she added.

“I wasn’t subpar last weekend, was I?” he asked.

“No...you weren’t.” she replied a little more shyly than usual.

They moved onto the next question.

“What roles do love and affection play in your life?” she read out loud, “Doesn’t have to be romantic again.”

Iwaizumi inhaled sharply. That was such a loaded question.

“If you’ll use this for an article and it gets published, you better buy me dinner someplace nice.” he tutted.

“Then make this one good.” she smirked.

Iwaizumi stopped eating for a few minutes to think through the question. Before he answered, he closed his eyes and breathed out slowly.

“It defined my entire career in volleyball. My best friend and I watched a game and we kind of chose to go into the same school team after that because we were both so obsessed with the sport. Our connection was almost telepathic. We barely used signals when it was just the two of us. We basically ran off instinct.” said he softly, his eyes reminiscing a different time.

“Although we went our separate ways after high school, I spent so much time in volleyball that it defined a huge part of who I was too. I mean, if I didn’t play volleyball, I would probably be in another sport, but I’d still think I’d be different, y’know?”

You could tell he was avoiding the word “love.” Iwa was not one to be vulnerable.

“In college when I was in my first serious relationship, it was the type of love that gave me confidence and assurance. But I guess it wasn’t enough…for me to say it deeply impacted my later choices on career and other decisions, unlike volleyball.”

“I can’t help but feel that any defining…relationship I have romantically will be weighed against with my time with volleyball…my first real love…" he tried to laugh it off, but you felt the weight off his words, “And I’ve been lucky enough to have enough love in my life that I don’t need to constantly be in a relationship to feel complete.”

A moment of silence fell in between the two.

“That’s a lot to heap on a relationship.” she whispered in contemplation.

Iwa awkwardly scrambled for damage control, “…no pressure.” was all he managed to say.

“So why try to date? When it’s so tough to find someone who can match up with volleyball?” she asked.

“Companionship?” he shrugged, “It’s still nice to date around.”

“And you’re…nice. I’ve been wanting to date you since we were in college. I’ve liked you for a long time…” his entire face flushed pink.

Her eyes fluttered wide open. Since college? Is he serious?

“Our friends were right,” she said in a hush, “You did have a thing for me. I thought they were just teasing us.”

“You had a boyfriend back then and when you broke up with him, I was seeing someone else.” he exhaled, looking her earnestly in the eye, “Wasn’t it obvious to you?”

Iwaizumi couldn’t tell if Hiromi just didn’t want to speak or was too busy contemplating. She was too stunned to speak.

“It felt like fate seeing you on the plane.”

A million things were going through her mind, she slowly opened her mouth, “Now that we’ve been on two half dates, what’s it like? Is this what you’d thought it would be?”

“College is very different from now, but the short answer is yes.” he nodded, rolling his shoulders back. “Everything just clicks. I’m so comfortable with you. It’s so easy for us to talk. I like you just as much as I did in college…I just really like you. Time hasn’t changed that at all.”

Hiromi looked overwhelmed. She was unable to look him in the eye. She was barely getting to know him romantically and he had long been decided about his feelings for her.

“Do you wanna ask if they sell alcohol here? You look like you need a drink.” he joked. Hiromi didn’t look like she heard him.

"This is so intense for a first date.” she shook her head in what seemed like regret.

“We can stop,” he gently interjected, “We can talk about something else.”

She finally looked up to him and whispered, “Hajime, you’ve just dumped a lot of pressure on me.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to do that,” he smiled apologetically, “Anyways, I’m aware that we’re both at different…stages of attraction. Besides, I think this would be way more awkward if we both were pining.”

“Wouldn’t that be sweeter?” she asked.

“Way too sappy for me.” he waved with his hand. Hiromi let out a small chuckle. Iwa secretly sighed in relief.

——————————————————————————— After dinner, they headed to the arcade to blow off some steam. Iwaizumi offered to carry some of her books to which he somewhat regretted. Her books were like rocks. How the hell was she lugging them on her own in the city?

“I could carry them on my own if it’s too heavy.” she offered.

Iwaizumi looked at her incredulously. She was at least half a foot shorter and much smaller in build. His biceps weren’t going to buck in front of her.

They wandered around the arcade for a bit, unsure what to do first. Iwa silently prayed they didn’t have to do any dancing. Just when they were about to decide on the claw machine, Hiromi pointed towards a small karaoke booth at the corner of her eye.

“Let’s go in there.” she tugged at his jacket.

Iwaizumi flipped through the songs. None of them seemed to be in Japanese. All of them were in English.

“Did you pick up a default english karaoke song?” she asked, browsing through the catalogue. The room was clearly designed for kids. It was so small their knees touched and Iwa could barely sit up without hitting his head on the ceiling.

“Nah,” he shook his head, “I don’t really sing…in English. Any suggestions?”

Hiromi typed in the number of a song.

“I’m about to introduce you to your first usable English karaoke song.” she grinned at him mischievously. Iwa looked at her suspiciously.

The opening notes started to play—some acoustic guitar and a trumpet. The song sounded…Mexican? For the longest time there were no lyrics on the screen. Hiromi swayed to beat as her eyes were glued to the screen. When the song finally began to hit what sounded like the chorus, the music paused for a second.

“TEQUILA!” she yelled into the mic.

Iwaizumi was so startled he jumped up and hit his head on the ceiling. Hiromi was giggling uncontrollably.

“That’s it?!” he exclaimed.

“Yeah,” she laughed, pressing the mic towards him, “You try on the next chorus.”

When the trumpets began playing, Iwa readied himself. The song hits its familiar pause soon enough and he pulls the mic closer to his lips.

“Tequila?” he said tentatively.

“With more conviction, Hajime!” she urged, taking back the mic. On the third chorus, she moved closer to him so they could share the mic.

The music hits its third pause, they looked at each other and yelled, “TEQUILA!”

They both grinned and laughed, almost as if the act of singing about alcohol was like a drink in itself. He could feel her shins pressed against him as she continued to sway for the music. A glint in her eye flickered as she nudged him to dance along with her.

Iwaizumi wasn’t going to refuse. Especially not on their first date. He swayed what he could on the tiny box while the song lasted.

————————————————————————— At the end of the night, they both sat in the train waiting to get off on their respective stops. The carriage shuttled back and forth, pushing and pulling their bodies back and forth into each other.

“Hajime,” she tapped him on his shoulder, “We didn’t finish the last set. Let’s do a quick one before I get off.”

He nodded, “Pick one we can answer with just one word.”

Hiromi swiftly browsed the list, before looking up.

“Finish the sentence, ‘Right now, we are both feeling…’"

Their faces were both so close they could feel the heat of each other’s breath. The back of their hands were touching, but neither dared to reach out or pull away.

“Hopeful.” whispered Hiromi, an evident earnestness in her voice. She was fighting off her shyness just long enough to look him in the eye when she talked.

Iwa smiled, “Smitten.”

Before she could react, the train jolted as it shuffled towards her station.The train stopped at Hiromi’s station and she got up from her seat, taking the books from Iwa’s arms.

He followed her to the exit and watched her as she got off. She gave a small wave from the platform while she watched the doors closed.

Iwa was tempted to press his hands onto the window, unwilling to end their time for the evening. His last sight of her was her smile when the train plunged itself into the night.

“Did he start out his day at the market with a morning jog?” she asked herself, watching the train swiftly pull away.

Iwaizumi took a deep breath. The night had gone differently from how he thought the date would proceed. For one thing, he didn’t expect to confess so early into the relationship.

He took his phone and curiously googled the questions she mentioned.

It turns out the title of the New York Times article was not “Questions to Get to Know Your Date” as Hiromi had led him to believe. Instead, it was titled, “Thirty Six Questions That Lead to Love”.

“Huh,” he said to himself. He shut off the screen to his phone.

36 was too much. In his opinion 3 was enough.

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

This is part 3 of a series on Iwa living in Tokyo after he moves back from California. Comment or message to be added to the taglist. 

Also, I’ve been feeling quite down lately, so say some nice things if you feel like it in the comments 😬✌️

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4

Series taglist: @itstheee-ha-chan

[ace-oreos]

Hey I got three prompt idea for your alpha fic (that I just finished reading, and I loved it): 1) Alpha, Fordo (and the rest of the ARCs of hypori, if you want, because a squad of ten arc have potentiel) and Satine meet while Kenobi are left in the middle of this. 2) Alpha and Fordo meet Ahsoka, Ahsoka fangirl, because Alpha ARC trooper, Fordo is puzzled and Alpha discover there is three of them now. 3) the Alpha ARC meet the newly promoted ARC, your choice if this goes good or bad

Ooh all of these were so fun, anon! Although I do have to admit I think the first one was my favorite to write - Alpha has no time for Kenobi's drama, but he's not above making Obi-Wan's life difficult. XD

And to no one's surprise, the ARC in the third little snippet is an OC! I haven't actually written much with him, but he's been taking up some space in my brain for a while now.

Taglist: @delta-the-mando @merspots @the-mandalorian-clone-lover @dudewhynotthis @a-lil-perspective @trashynishiki (because I know Obi-Wan amuses you to no end)

Alpha has been General Kenobi’s second long enough to know far more about the man’s various romantic pursuits than he ever wanted - there’s no way to avoid it, given the rate at which rumors whirl through the ranks and grow more ludicrous every day.

As for the second parties in question - Kenobi always becomes conveniently deaf at any mention, so Alpha has limited information for comparison - he is convinced that the Mandalorian duchess is the worst.

He very deliberately avoids catching Fordo’s eye; if his brother cracks, then it’s over for both of them. The clipped exhale picked up on his helmet audio confirms his suspicions.

Kenobi casts Alpha a look of warning. Alpha spreads his hands to indicate that he will not be acceptable for the aftermath when Fordo finally snaps and turns his attention to the duchess.

Her face is set with the same polite disinterest he’s seen on Coruscant politicians, although this time it’s accompanied by a distinct sense of disapproval. Alpha returns the look with interest. He doesn’t like her, and seeing as Kenobi is too busy trying to salvage his dignity, someone has to let her know.

Unfortunately, the Force tips him off, or maybe the general knows him too well by now; whatever the reason, Kenobi clears his throat before Alpha can think of a fitting comment for the situation.

Alpha plays innocent. Kenobi may know him, but Fordo is a wild card, and his brother certainly has a mouth -

“So,” Fordo says, and Alpha can hear the wicked grin in his voice, “I take it you and the general know each other?”

Kenobi’s face is a study in abject horror, the duchess’ somewhere between outrage and mortification, and Fordo looks duly pleased with himself. Alpha, for his part, is intensely grateful for his helmet. He certainly couldn’t care less about Kenobi’s private life, but he has a feeling that he and Fordo both will be getting an earful before the negotiations conclude.

_________________

Skywalker’s Padawan - General Skywalker - is a scrap of enthusiasm and curiosity wrapped up in an undeniably impulsive package.

She’s learned her lessons a little too well, Alpha decides, catching the look on her face. It’s somewhere between wary and inquisitive as she considers the ARCs with a thoughtful tilt of her head.

Suddenly she brightens. “You served with Master Skywalker.”

“It’s been a while,” Alpha says reluctantly. He’s acutely aware of how young she is; even the cadets on Kamino don’t give off the same sense of naivety. He’d rather not admit it, but he’s not at all sure how to handle her.

Fordo slings a companionable arm over his shoulder. “And I’m sure the general has taken your lessons to heart.”

Alpha glares - or he would, if Tano weren’t watching raptly.

“He’s told me about you,” the commander says, and Alpha knows in no uncertain terms that the grin spreading across Fordo’s face means trouble for him in the very near future.

Right on cue, his brother asks innocently, “Has he?”

Alpha jams his heel into his Fordo’s foot at the same time Tano starts rattling off every campaign and minor skirmish Alpha and Skywalker have ever been involved with. It’s almost impressive, her recall and her ability to list every planet and star system without pausing for breath in between. As it is, Alpha finds the attention uncomfortable.

When Tano’s recitation finally comes to a close, Alpha seizes the opportunity to put in, “Don’t forget Captain Fordo’s squad, ma’am.”

The dismay is written plainly across Fordo’s face as he tries to minimize the damage, saying, “It’s really not that exciting - ”

“Shabuir,” he hisses five minutes later, when Tano is hurling questions at both of them left and right. Alpha merely smirks in response.

They manage to escape within the hour, citing a briefing for a mission command is unaware they’ve assigned.

“Well,” Fordo says at last, “she’s Skywalker’s, alright.”

Alpha can’t help but make a face at that. Even Skywalker knew when to keep his mouth shut. Tano, on the other hand, has yet to absorb that particular lesson.

“Captain!”

The voice carries clearly through the hallway, and Alpha comes to a grudging halt. Tano catches up to them, twin lightsabers bouncing on her belt as she tries to maintain some measure of dignity.

“What can I do for you, Commander?” Alpha asks, wondering if she can sense his exasperation.

“I think my Master is supposed to accompany you on this next mission,” the commander explains. She smiles up at him with all the confidence in the world. “It only makes sense that I go too, don’t you think?”

“Well - ”

“D’you know, Master Kenobi was younger than I am now when he went on his first mission.”

“He might’ve mentioned it - ”

“I’m sure he’d be happy to have you on this one,” Tano continues cheerfully.

“I, uh, have a new assignment…”

“Oh, don’t worry, Alpha,” the commander says, patting his arm amiably. “Master Kenobi can pull some strings.”

Alpha, already intimately familiar with Kenobi’s methods, has to work to keep his dismay from showing on his face.

_________________

Alpha wakes abruptly after a particularly tiring training session to find Fordo waving a datapad perilously close to his face.

“What are you doing?” he demands, awake enough to be irritated.

“New ARC recruit,” Fordo announces, and the datapad whizzes by Alpha’s nose to land on his stomach.

Alpha smacks Fordo for good measure and picks up the datapad. As reluctant as he is to indulge his brother’s antics, he’s intrigued by the news. ARC recruits are few and far between these days.

It’s one of Skywalker’s di’kute, cross-trained from the infantry ranks.

“And you’re in luck,” Fordo continues, helping himself to the spot on the bed by Alpha’s feet. “He’s on planet now. You can give him the ARC speech.”

“ARC speech?”

“You know, do honor to your brothers and Jango, et cetera. The usual osik.”

“Shove off,” Alpha says. “I don’t give a - ”

“Whatever you say, ner vod.”

“I’m not - don’t look at me like that!”

“Like what?” Fordo asks innocently.

“You little - ”

Just as Alpha readies himself to throw something at Fordo - or tackle him head-on - the door slides open, followed by an uncertain, “Sir?”

Alpha straightens in time to see a trooper in full armor tuck his blue-striped helmet under one arm. His face is studiously blank, but there’s a smile playing on his lips.

“Four-one-oh-eight, sir,” the trooper says unprompted, apparently unbothered by the awkward silence. “I hope I didn’t disturb you.”

“Not at all,” Alpha says, and takes care to step on Fordo’s foot as he approaches the trooper. He ignores the ensuing yelp and instead opts for, “What can I do for you?”

“The general referred me to you. Seemed to think I could pick up a few pointers.”

“That would be Skywalker?”

“Got it in one, sir.” Now the trooper gives a wry grin. “He recommended me for ARC training.”

“Got a name, kid?” Fordo asks, playing the steady ori’vod he absolutely is not.

“Ike, sir.”

“Well, Ike,” Fordo says, “glad to have you.”

“Don’t let Skywalker get in your head too much, yeah?” Alpha puts in.

Ike’s grin widens. “Yeah, I’ve heard stories.”

“If you’ve made it this far, you’ve already got more self-preservation than the general,” Alpha reassures him, offering a sardonic smile of his own.

“I’d like to think so, sir,” the trooper answers, almost sincere if not for the look of mischief in his eyes.

Yeah, Alpha likes this kid. If he’s careful, he may even make it past his first deployment.

Alpha claps him on the shoulder. “Welcome aboard, ner vod.”