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anantaru · 9 months

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EX HUSBAND NEUVILLETTE

— ꒰ synopsis ꒱ — ex! husband neuvillette headcanons

— ꒰ warnings ꒱ — [ex]plicit, fem! reader, fluff, crack lmao, he‘s trying his best, very rough like he’s feral!!!!, fucks you like there’s no tomorrow, but the sweetest man, a little possessive without him realising

ex! husband neuvillette, who— as was wildly anticipated, would not instantly vanish from your life nor leave you stranded alone beside the mental toll that a separation would leave on the both of you— even after the grief-stricken divorce was at last, ultimately finalized and carried out.

ex! husband neuvillette who thought that— with the fullness of his devastated heart, that in his own very eyes, it was beyond a doubt commonplace to aid and assist his ex-wife in the so called "aftermath" of your troubling divorce, whilst more urgently, be in no qualms that you're being cared for with everything and anything you could possible need.

ex! husband neuvillette, who of course, would double check with you to not suddenly overstep any boundaries or take up space that you might need— yet bare in mind, if you were to ask him for help on any matter really, he'd immediately leave everything behind to fulfill your wishes first, considering he is used to it, but the man will tend to forget about his own personal needs which he needed so he could function properly— yet now with you out of the picture, walking back to his current reality was becoming a taxing task.

ex! husband neuvillette, who, aside from his own separate challenges and demands, would never dare to cast aside his important work of practically running the nation of hydro. much obliged, he was a prestigious, praiseworthy man, thus the reason for him to pull more effort and sleepless nights into his occupation.

ex! husband neuvillette who couldn't believe that you both were divorced in the first place because in all seriousness, there wasn't much changing and aside from a couple instances, for example that he wasn't seeing you frequently, it felt the same way to him.

ex! husband neuvillette who, after a couple weeks into your divorce, will suddenly become a little more distant, not responding to letters you would occasionally send to make sure he was okay— with the immediate turbulent, overcast weather in fontaine adding to the closing eeriness of the entire situation. it's constant, clouded and gray, a mirage of cold rain and an incoming storm, and the people of fontaine will begin to question what had happened or if it was simply an unlucky past couple of weeks.

ex! husband neuvillette who doesn't like the idea of divorce, as might be expected he understands it, but in his own regard, he does not approve of it, but he accepts it— additionally, he wouldn't force you to stay with him, again, why he had agreed on it in the first place. the man would lie to himself if he'd say that it doesn't break his heart, the unclouded thought of wholly erasing the person he referred to as his 'wife' off his entire life was a frightening pondering.

ex! husband neuvillette wasn't willing to accept it, ever, but he did it for your sake and the small possibility of you becoming close again, in the future? perhaps, he was willing to wait endlessly, condemning himself to a lifetime in darkness, knowing full on well that his most desired dream to reconcile arguably wouldn't come true— on top of that, after careful, deep talks on how to properly navigate your divorce and being separated from now on, you have both ultimately agreed on remaining 'friends' in a sense, such was easy to state of course but you longed to make the best out of it, or at least try.

ex! husband neuvillette who will against all odds, still keep his wedding ring put on its designated place. granted, he had gotten quite accustomed to the feeling of it being wrapped around his finger and doesn't want to take it off. if you do decide to ask him about it, given that you aren't wearing yours anymore, he will plainly state that he got used to it way too much and it had grown on him, really, becoming a part of his person so ultimately taking it off would result in the same as him severing a limb off his body.

ex! husband neuvillette who still calls you his wife unintentionally, in the beginning of the first couple of weeks, it will happen almost all the time. be that as it may, he doesn't do it on purpose to somehow hurt you or make you uncomfortable, and he was aware of the fact that he needed to get accustomed to the feeling of being single again, of not being married anymore but calling you his wife just warmths his chest and hugs him from inside and out.

ex! husband neuvillette bets on it, it's like his whole day could be stacked with work on end, without a second of tranquility in sight, rain droplets covering the nation of hydro, but when he thinks about you, only you, a smile coruscates over his soft lips, increasing his heart beat, it's all so painful but he wouldn't want it any other way because nothing, and he emphasizes it deeply, nothing would be as painful as having you gone form his life.

ex! husband neuvillette who, and pay attention now, this would only happen if his strong, rational thinking skills and durable emotions towards keeping the laws of this world truthful were somewhat altered in an instance of weakness, but he would adore to throw and punish every new person you would date after him behind bars, yet not before properly dragging them to a trail that they cannot win, for him to look down on them— again, it's a small fantasy he wouldn't bring into life, he honored his noble work.

ex! husband neuvillette who knows that even day dreaming about such wrongful ideas were full of holes and malice, yet beyond it, he keeps himself restrained in not interfering in your new relationships— which he had thought must be a lot, you could say he believed that you were already out and about in the dating world, overthinking the worst out of all possibilities that could happen.

ex! husband neuvillette who will oftentimes send the melusines out to check up on you and tell him how you're doing— no, don't misunderstand, he doesn't want to know if you were dating again, he wouldn't, after all, this was your personal life and he wasn't your husband anymore. but then again, surely checking every now and then wouldn't hurt a soul, right?

ex! husband neuvillette will send you freshly picked flowers frequently, or have your favorite dish made by a professional chef. how can i forget to mention that he tends to buy a small, cute souvenir that would remind him of you and send it your way instantly. at how things were slowly progressing, the man will be quite embarrassed in facing you again, granted that you had promised to remain friends, he fears that the constant raining and pouring around fontaine would make it desperately obvious on how he was truly feeling, what can there be left anyways, nothing but the untouchable part of him, his aching soul begging for closeness.

but ex! husband neuvillette does not want to trouble you, fearing he might become overbearing in his doings, but he misses you, this time it's more raw than that, more exposed, more pure. he longes for a moment where he can see and feel you again, his mind circling through emotions and pondering, sinful dreams stitching his psyche together and calming down his heart.

ex! husband neuvillette who will be surprised, yet overly thrilled as if he was about to jump off his chair, when you ask the sweet melusines to hand him over a letter— the scent of the thin paper reminding him of your fragrance, a similar one he noticed whenever he kissed your neck. beyond question, they couldn't have told him fast enough, he finishes up the necessary work load for the day, at once forging ahead to your once shared house. you know it by now but he does not falter, he wants this to be perfect, carefully picking up a bouquet of flowers, with the flowers in questions being the very ones that have been decorating your wedding venue back in the day, oh sweet memories, he hopes he doesn't come off as crazy.

ex! husband neuvillette who tries to play it cool, it's not a big deal, but why were his hands sweating? his breathing was fast too, burgeoning, each following step towards your home, his limbs and muscles would begin to tremble, it's evident and almost aflame, but the weather has been nice again all of a sudden, for once in fontaine and he couldn't wait to see you.

ex! husband neuvillette who cannot say anything when you open the door for him, all these miles with the memories of your passionate time together pouring back into his mind. it's silly, but so real, and there was a silence, although not of an uncomfortable kind, it was overthrowing the hefty atmosphere.

and honestly, you think ex! husband neuvillette was cute when he was all overwhelmed and bereft of speech, even cuter when he’s silently walking past the door, your hands slowly wrapping around the bouquet of flowers to place them aside, on top of a wooden drawer before panning your eyes back into his grasp— which was his piercing, conquering gaze.

you could perceive the cutting tautness, how the reinforced pressure alone couldn't be torn, not with a sharp knife, no sword, no blade, because forthrightly— there wasn't anything on this planet that was able to part this emerging and crashing body chemistry.

all fairness to the situation— your captivation was off the charts, two people unable to coexist while parted, searching within your souls to understand what was happening. yet then it hit you, that maybe— heavily placed on a single maybe, that there might've been a cruel mistake in how things ended between you both;

or did they end?

because like a bullet piercing through soft flesh, it gave the impression away as if you were both moving closer to your sweet frames until you could clearly feel his warm, clothed chest pushed against your own— hopeful eyes remained locked within your gazes as you carefully slide your hands behind his neck without breaking his stares.

ex! husband neuvillette whose breathing was all fast and hasty, yet much swifter was his never ending intention to kiss you again and taste your lips in the process, he cannot stop himself anymore, but he must— for some reason, he cannot fathom that this might be reality and that you both would have a second chance in this life after all.

"kiss me." you suddenly whisper, eyes aglow with his own enlarging at the nervous utterance, subtle touches weaving together and showing your open truths.

ex! husband neuvillette feels how tense he has gotten and tries to relax— on top of that, he was reminiscing about the past and the bare memories of your writhing body splayed under his large one, his entire weight on top of you, just the whisper of his sinful imagination made his mouth water— he truly believes he was in fact dreaming right now, especially when you tell him to kiss him again.

there were no thoughts to process anymore, no focus he could grasp on to remain clearness— what was left were true, unfaltering desires and the scalding pain of waiting. that‘s when you kiss him instead, his body immediately welcoming your fervid warmth, pulling his head towards your own in a heart beat.

ex! husband neuvillette felt a heavy hardship being lifted off his shoulders the moment your lips touch his, and each one of the words he had planned to spell out to you, they form into a sting that was beating into his heart, repeatedly, the sharp stitches seeping into his veins slowly. and he refuses to cry in front of you, or expose to you that everything that had happened after your separation was covered in nothing but a silent numbness.

swallowing the lump in his throat, ex! husband neuvillette guides you to the bedroom, it was hard to decipher what was real or not, each motion of your lips rounding across his own felt like he was dreaming the most beautiful dream of them all. the whisper of cold air brushes across your bodies when he opens the door to the cold room, his own imagination going wild when he peeks at the neatly made bed, or the wooden drawer next to it, still having your wedding picture on display.

ex! husband neuvillette who takes his time in undressing you, the fear of someone taking you away from him again, even now, was still there and he wanted, no, needed to relish in this as good as possible. neuvillette wets his lips, nervous, "my love.. are you sure about this?" and he hesitated for a second— but when you tug at his own sleeves now, fondling with the expensive garment, nodding your head and expertly wrapping your digits into the thin fabric to help him out of it, he knows you wanted it as badly as he did, popping his arms back so you could pull his coat down, your mouth twisting into a subtle smile.

ex! husband neuvillette who touches you featherlight, slowly parting your legs to settle in between, and butterflies expand in your belly when you admire his beauty from up close again, his muscles twitching when you decide to lightly graze his skin with your fingertips, smoothly sliding over his chest before wrapping your arms around his neck.

ex! husband neuvillette who could honestly cry the moment he first slides his cock into you again, kissing you again and again, more deeply, more feral and in need before licking into your mouth, leaving his large hand to wander down to the plush of your ass and push you into the mattress when he first bottoms out of you. you're so warm, wet and comfortable while you're clamping down on him. and neuvillette pistols his hips like an electric light, hoping he'd be able to hit so deep inside your warm cunt till you practically feel him stir up your guts.

and a moan slowly builds up in your throat as your tits brush against his strong chest— whilst neuvillette places a delicious, fast pace on you, the bare strength of his thrusts making the headboard bounce back and forth the wall as he nibbles on your bottom lip while fucking his cock into you, your gummy walls squelching at each well received pump.

ex! husband neuvillette who roughly palms your tits and plays with your nipples with his hips moving in a feral tempo— whilst those breathy, wet pleas of your name, the ones he whispered against your ear, evolve into gluttonous, hungry groans, whilst the thought about losing all of this made it more difficult for him to say anything at all, his throat acting as a trap for that one sentence he intended to spell out, the sound of it awaiting to break free— but the nervousness couldn't be surpassed as he takes a hold of your hand, desperately clutching on it before grinding his erection back into you, a pulse surging through the entirety of your walls.

ex! husband neuvillette who finds it mesmerizing on how you were so responsive to his every nibble and touch, his thudding cock diving between your legs while he fists your tits in his warm hand, your lips parting with cries and begs while meeting his hungry pace.

his hips, much bigger than yours, keep hitting into you, a lustful gaze on your facial expression clouding your mind as he makes you feel so unbelievably good, soaking your sheets as you kiss him, famished and hot, feeling his needy grunts exhaling through his lips as you clench down hard, gazes meeting once and for all, "i love you." you say, almost cry it out, and neuvillette wanted to be patient with you, claim your body to its full exhaustion afterwards, but not now, he cannot keep his cool this time— not anymore, not after you said those very three words he wasn't able to utter out all night.

you're truly driving him insane, and his body was pressing hotly against yours as you wiggle and writhe under him, puppy eyes watching him please you from under your lashes while you’re requiring more of his cock in you, please please, you say, your pussy clamping around his girth and milking him for good.

ex! husband neuvillette who tells you, "i love you too, i love you too.." in quick, fast paced syllables, and the burning veins in his body turn numb when you begin to cry out of joy and pleasure, hastily pushing your heels into his back to signal him to fuck you harder as he pounds away into your creamy pussy, dragging his hard erection along your sore walls and burning pleasure spots.

now— your nails simmer over his defined back, both sweetly indulging in each others company and the feeling of being one again, nothing else but solid, fast paced pleasure which was turning him on, so fucking much, his breathing puffed and winded, throwing his head back as you're doing your best to match his insane rhythm.

your pussy swallows him up like magic, your damp lashes tickling his shoulders as he buries his face against your neck to suck on the wet flesh, in accessory to the numerous amount of praises, declarations of love and filthy curses plastering your sweaty skin. or how about the swallowing screams and begs of your name that ripple through him as you moan out fervently, twitching under his towering body and arching your back.

oh, well? it's now or never your “ex” husband fears, and he decides to push his pulsing cock deep into your hole, deeper, just a little bit more, please! until you're desperately screaming into his shoulder, as far as it can fit into your little pussy, sending you over an intoxicating edge.

and ex! husband neuvillette was, at long last, back at where he should be, where he should've been all along, with you, making passionate and meaningful love to each other, because the man needed it, needed you close to him, and he cannot and will never again, paint the world without you in it.

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #neuvillette x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #genshin impact headcanons #genshin headcanons #neuvillette x you #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff #neuvillette fluff

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etfrin · 2 months

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❝ꜱᴏᴜʟꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ❞ — chapter twenty-four | coriolanus snow

「ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ:」 NSFW | murder, getting away with murder, minor character death, pinv sex, unprotected sex (wrap it dumbfucks), riding, fingering (f. receiving), hints of edging, blood kink if you squint, creampie, virgin! Coryo lossing virginity | lmk if I forgot anything

「ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ:」 young! Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader

「ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:」 the end

「ᴀ/ɴ:」 the last chapter! I probably won't do an epilogue, i am not entirely sure on it yet! But this wraps up their story!! I hope you guys liked it! Make sure to reblog and give ne your feedback!

beta read by an angel (TRUTH) @nowitsmissing

thank you to everyone who was on this journey with me... I love you guys!

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Coriolanus finds Lucy Gray near the hanging tree. It was nearly evening. Lucy Gray's eyes were red. Coriolanus ignored the pity he felt. Soon, Lucy Gray would join Sejanus Plinth.

“Lucy Gray,” he hissed, taking her attention away from the tree.

“You'll need to leave,” he said, his voice faking desperation, “to the North. Sejanus would have wanted that.”

“What about you?” Lucy Gray asked, “What about the Covey?”

“The Covey will live, Lucy Gray, you know that. They're strong. They're survivors,” he replied, “as for me, I wish to leave with you. I can't stay in the place that took my friend.”

Coriolanus' eyes quickly filled with tears as soon as he finished. “It's all my fault,” his lips utter, “if only I could have stopped him.”

Lucy Gray looks at him, her face stricken with grief. She doesn't say anything but lets the tears fall down her cheeks. She pulls Coriolanus into a hug.

“The Peacekeepers will look for me, I'll stay in the cabin for the night,” Lucy Gray said. There was a cabin, near the lake, over the fence of the district. Nobody ventures that far except the Covey. Coriolanus and Sejanus only found out about its existence due to their connection with Lucy Gray.

He remembered all the moments he spent there with the Covey. It would be a good place for Lucy Gray to perish. Around all the greens and the music of mockingjays inside the forest.

“I'll meet you there tomorrow in the morning with supplies,” he said, holding Lucy Gray's hand, even giving it a friendly squeeze. He was afraid he was overselling the act but Lucy Gray was too sad to notice how over-the-top friendly Coriolanus was acting.

Lucy Gray nods and turns to leave. Her legs were shaky as she walked. Sejanus and Lucy Gray had to keep their relationship a secret for obvious reasons. But everyone would point at her for the mayor’s daughter's death. It didn't end with Sejanus Plinths' death. It won't because the mayor is trying to root out every single rebel, and surely he won't keep alive the girl his daughter hated so much.

Coriolanus finds his way back to the base. It's night by the time he returns. He climbs up the stairs and walks down the hallway to reach your room. He knocks and waits for you to open the door.

You do.

Coryo tried his best not to get distracted at the sight of you. You were looking so pretty. You look beautiful to him all the time. “Hi,” he gasps out.

“Hey,” you smile, giving him space to walk inside the room. Peacekeepers knew by now that something was going on between him and you. They knew better than to gossip about it though. It was clear you had the power to do anything you wanted. And everyone knew not to mess with someone from the Capitol.

That is why Coriolanus knew even if he spent the night here. He won't get in trouble. He pulls off his Peacekeeper uniform and wears one of the big, oversized sweatshirts you bought from the Capitol. The softness of the fabric makes him shy. He felt like a boy again. It was a feeling he never thought he would enjoy. For a moment, he could pretend he was in the Capitol, in his home, before the games had ever happened.

“You look comfy,” you tease him, as you find your home in his arms.

“I am,” he murmurs, his lips kissing your temple.

“I talked to Lucy Gray,” he informs you, “You were right. She's going to the north and she'll stay in the cabin for the night.”

“Hmm,” you hum, as you nuzzle your face into his shoulder, your lips pressing soft kisses to his pulse. Your arms around him, and his arms around you. Both of you caging each other. The heat of both of your bodies mingled into a pleasant warmth.

“Well, then my revolver will come in handy soon,” you whispered, a bit tired.

“They let you bring one here?” He questions.

“Special privileges,” you replied.

Any other day Coriolanus would feel jealousy pulling at his heart, a frown formatting on his face. Today, he just… didn't care. He didn't care that you had more benefits than him. He didn't care that you lived better than him.

You're his.

Could anything be better than that?

He doesn't think so.

“Typical,” he said, his head now on your shoulders.

“Uh huh,” you add, “Stay the night.”

“Of course, dove.”

You lay down on the bed beside him. His arm was thrown over your waist, and your legs tangled with him. You gently let your nails scratch at his buzz cut. He sighs, relaxing from your touch.

“Tomorrow is a big day,” you remind him, “We'll have to finish everything by noon and catch the train in the evening.”

“We?” He questioned.

“I talked with Dr. Gaul,” you revealed, a bit hesitant, “She wants you back.” You frown, “Don't let the news deter from our plan Coriolanus, it's important we leave no strings behind.”

Coriolanus blinks, trying to take in your words. A smile splits on his face. He couldn't believe this, he had thought he would have to wait for months before Dr. Gaul let him get back to the Capitol. Snow thought she would be petty like that. But you somehow managed to convince her otherwise. It was shocking, to say the least.

“I will go to the Capitol with you tomorrow,” he said. He repeats, “I'll go to the Capitol with you tomorrow!”

You giggled, “Yes, Coriolanus. You thought I would leave you behind? It took some… it doesn't matter. We'll have our happily ever after.”

“I can't believe it,” he whispers, his eyes shining with joy, even with the darkness of the room, you could see his eyes sparkling.

“You should,” you whispered, “now sleep, darling. It's a big day tomorrow.”

Coriolanus couldn't believe it. He pressed your lips against yours. “Thank you,” he lets out, “I love you.” Coriolanus takes your hand, and presses a kiss to your wrist, on the number tattooed on your skin. “I love you, my dove,” he whispered.

“I love you too, pretty boy,” you whispered.

Coriolanus pulls impossible closer as if he were trying to mold both of your souls together. “I am glad you're mine,” he said. He kissed your forehead. “You're mine forever,” he whispered, a hint of darkness, and obsession creeping into his voice.

It made you bite your lower lip as you heard the possessiveness in his voice. “I know,” you replied, “You're mine too.” You add, your voice muffled as your face was pressed into his chest, “Nobody can take you away from me ever again.”

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧

In the morning, both of you quietly wake up in each other's arms. Coriolanus yawns, “Good morning, dove.” You hum something Coriolanus couldn't hear in reply.

It was so early that the sun had just begun to rise. However, he could hear the sound of rain. Coriolanus quickly gets out of the bed. He softly pats you on the cheek, smiling as you continue to fight the battle against sleep.

“See you soon,” he whispered, taking the revolver you had in your drawer and walking out of the room. He finds himself on his bunk bed, everyone else is sleeping, and he quickly begins to pack things inside of his bags. The supplies he told Lucy Gray about. When he is done, he briefly stops by in front of Sejanus Plinth's bed.

There was a box in which Sejanus Plinth kept his belongings. Coriolanus opens it to find letters, medicine, and two photos. One of Lucy Gray. Another was of Coriolanus and Sejanus, a photo taken from the time during the broadcast of the 10th Games. It seemed like yesterday.

Coriolanus Snow had no explanation for the tears that fell down his cheeks. Sejanus Plinth was dead. Snow had given Dr. Gaul the gun, and you made her pull the trigger. It's in her hands the blood of Sejanus truly was. Not on him nor you.

Coriolanus wipes his tears away. “She's coming soon to you, buddy,” he whispered to the picture. He wondered if Sejanus would thank him for his next actions, or curse him. Coriolanus doesn't think about it much, he leaves.

Soon enough, he reaches the cabin. “Lucy Gray,” he calls out. Lucy Gray opens the door, giving Coriolanus a polite smile. Lucy Gray lets him inside. He enters, looking around the old cabin he has been inside of many times. Coriolanus sets his bag down. Wondering about what he should do next. Should he wait for you? Should he take out the gun and shoot now?

Before he can decide his next actions, Lucy Gray pulls out a knife. “I think I’ll go dig up some Katniss since we got the fire going anyway. There’s a good patch by the lake.”

“I thought they weren’t ready,” he said. Katniss was another word for swamp potato. It grew around here, but just a few days ago Lucy Gray told him it wasn't ready for harvest.

“Two weeks can make a lot of difference,” she said.

“It’s raining,” he objected. “You’ll get soaked.”

She replied, “Well, I’m not made of sugar.”

Coriolanus lets her walk outside. It was a form of mercy, trying to give her some time to run. He knew that Lucy Gray's survival instincts were good. That was the only reason she had survived the arena.

But she won't be able to survive him.

Coriolanus follows her trail after a moment passes. She wasn't down the lake as she promised, but her footsteps were towards the forest. Coriolanus smirks as he takes the revolver out, and gets the gun ready for a shot.

“Let the hunger games begin,” he whispered, “may the odds be in your favor.”

Coriolanus continues to follow her trail quietly and quickly, using the training of being a Peacekeeper. His gun pointed in front of him, ready to be shot the moment he saw her. “Lucy Gray,” he calls out, his voice warm as if he wasn't going to murder, “Where are you? We need to leave soon.”

“Lucy Gray!” He turns when he hears footsteps and shoots, hoping not to miss. The shot met with flesh, the sound booming in his ear, much more overwhelming than the tap tap of the rain. He walks towards the body that is now in front of him. Red blood mixed with the rainwater on the ground, staining the greenery around them.

He shot her right in the chest.

Lucy Gray was dead.

She joined Sejanus Plinth in the afterlife and will spend the rest of eternity cursing Coriolanus. Snow couldn't find himself to clear. He felt relieved. No one can drag him down now. The only way for him was to climb the ladder and reach the peak. Coriolanus uses his feet to turn her dead body around. There was blood dripping down her lips, her dress red and her were nearly closed. She was nothing more than a dead body. Gone was the songbird.

Now it was time to get rid of the body.

He was grateful that the rain would cover the tracks. But he had to be careful as it was easy to slip and get hurt himself. He drags the body without any rush, he thinks of you, waiting in the cabin for him to come back. Both of you will go back to the Capitol. Snow will be together with his family, in the future you'll also become his family. Everything was going to be fine.

This was nothing but a simple stepping stone.

He could feel his arms getting tired but he continued to drag the body by her arms until he reached the edge of the lake. There was a boat. He wondered briefly if he should just take her on the boat and cross to the middle of the river to let her drown. But decided that it would be too much trouble, and pushed her to the river. A big splash occurs. And he could see Lucy Gray slowly but surely falling to her end.

Lucy Gray was gone from this world forever.

He throws the revolver into the river as well. The body would decompose in a matter of days. Everyone would think of her as a traitor. Even if the Covey comes to visit the lake again, they'll never know it's their beloved Lucy Gray's grave.

Coriolanus Snow reaches the cabin and opens the door to see you holding a Peacekeeper’s gun. The same gun he had used to shoot Mayfair and Billy Taupe. “Guess Spruce hid it here,” you grin at him. You were slightly wet from the rain, unlike him, he was soaking wet.

“Yeah,” he lets out, his shoulders relaxed, his face mirroring your smile. “We'll have to throw those in the lake too.”

You chuckled, “Let's not leave any stones unturned.”

Coryo couldn't take it anymore, the adrenaline was too much. “We won't,” he said, as he walked towards you until your back was on the wall. He takes the gun from you and throws it to the side. Neither of you flinch from the loud noise, the two of you too focused on each other instead. He closes the space between the both of you.

“But for now, I want you,” he adds, “No- that's not right. I need you, here.”

He doesn't wait for a reply. He crashed his lips to yours. You find yourself kissing him back. Your tongue exploring his mouth, he sucks at your bottom lip. Not caring that his teeth are digging into your flesh too harshly, that he's responsible for the coppery taste that occurs while you continue kissing.

“You sure?” You gasp as you break the kiss. A string of saliva connecting you both. Coriolanus doesn't reply, he finds his solace from the taste of your skin. He pressed his lips to your neck, sloppily kissing down your pulse. You softly moan, tilting your head to give him more access.

Coryo takes full advantage of that. He was going to claim you any way that he could. Carving his initials on your skin wasn't the only way after all. Cumming inside of you, giving your pretty red hickeys, the print of his fingers on your hips, even the soulmate tattoo you have on your wrist. All these are ways for him to fucking own you.

And own you he shall.

He bites onto your neck as if trying to tear out your flesh. He wants to consume you, soul and all. You cry out, your back arching. Your hips meet his, and he presses his hard bulge against you. He finds himself in between your legs. Your clothed cunt against his denim-cladded cock. You begin to grind against him, as he continues the assault on your neck.

The teeth mark he placed on your skin will remain for days. It will bruise on doubt. Coriolanus didn't have it in him right now to be gentle. He was too fucking drunk on you for that. All of his desires were rushing through, breaking his walls and overwhelming his mind.

“Fuck,” he curses as he realized his lips are red from your blood. His bites had broken your skin and now tiny droplets of blood were forming. He licks them all up and murmurs an apology. He pressed his lips on yours, painting your lips the same shade as his and making you taste yourself. His hips had slowed down the grinding against you.

He steps back and begins to undress. He lets his t-shirt and jeans fall to the ground. He takes his thick cock out of the confines of his boxers. He grips the base of length, trying to control himself as he watches you follow suit.

He pulls you against him again and nods his head towards the floor. You understand his intention and lay down. He bites his lip, sudden nerves overcoming him. He doesn't know what to do despite the raunchy stories he has heard from his fellow Peacekeepers.

Is he supposed to hold your hand or your hips? Should he just push in? Isn't he supposed to prep you first? Or are you wet enough? Fuck… it wasn't the first time he was intimate with you. He hadn't gone all the way but he was familiar with your body. But most of the time he was overwhelmed with his desire to think about what to do or not to do. This time his mind was clear, he was focusing solely on you and he wanted you to experience nothing less of ecstasy from his touch.

“Coryo?” you question, bringing him out of his internal monologue. “Is there anything wrong?”

“I-” he doesn't want to admit, but he knows he has to, “I don't know what to do right now.”

“You can do whatever you like. I'll tell you if you mess up, sweetheart.”

“I know,” he sighs, his eyes on your tits, he licks his lips, “but I am-” He swallows, trying to explain, “I want you. I don't know how to take you. Everything feels like too much or too little.”

You sit up. You gently cradle his cheeks in your hands. “We have all the time in the world, Coryo. What do you wanna do first?”

“I-” He doesn't form a full sentence, instead he kisses you. His hand is on your nape and another trailing down your body as he softly nips at your lips. He dips down his hand in between your legs, he pressed his palm onto your cunt. He lets himself be coated by your arousal. His breath hitches as he feels your heat in such an obscene way.

“Oh,” he whispered as he pressed a single finger inside of your walls. “I missed this.” He remembers the night when he first felt your tight, slick walls like this. He was rough that night, a bit mean too. Coriolanus wasn't going to be the same today. He plans to worship you.

He begins to slowly thrust his index finger inside of you. His head on your shoulder, his lips kissing any inch of skin he could find as he continues to stretch you out with a single finger. Then he adds another one, he was met with resistance, but he pressed his thumb to your clit. That makes you gasp, your cunt squeezing around his fingers when his thumb begins to draw small circles on the bud.

“Relax, dove,” he whispered, giving you goosebumps.

He doesn't begin to move his fingers even when you whine impatiently, your walls twitching around his digits. Once he deems that you're relaxed enough, he begins to slowly push inside of your pussy, as deep as his fingers could reach. He was trying his best to get you ready for his cock.

His fingertips begin to press into your walls, trying to find that one spot that would get you drunk on him as much as he's drunk on you. He knows he found the spot when he feels your walls pulse around his digits like it had a heartbeat of its own. You gasp his name and he smirks. He whispers to your ear, “That's it, huh?”

“Yes!” You moan, “Faster!”

Coriolanus Snow obeys because he can never say no to you. He begins to fuck his fingers inside of you faster, slipping his ring finger inside of you as well. He thrusts his digits fast and hard, he groans as he sees your pussy stretched to accommodate his long digits. He keeps his fingers slightly curved so that with each thrust he would press into your g-spot.

“Fuck, fuck, you're so pretty.”

Coriolanus couldn't be sure if he was saying that to you, or your cunt. He continues to keep up his speed, the sloppy, wet sounds of your pussy louder than of the rain. Coriolanus could hear you moan his name as he feels your pussy get impossibly tighter around his digits before your walls begin to spasm all over, locking his digits in. He doesn't pull them out, instead, he continues to press hard onto your spongy pleasure spot until you whine his name.

Your juices were now all over his fingers. He didn't waste a second to taste them. He looks into your eyes as he licks his digits clean. He runs his tongue between the spaces of his fingers, making sure he doesn't miss a single spot. When he's done, you pull him in for a kiss. You moan into his mouth as you taste yourself, you find yourself in his lap, his back pressed to the wooden floor.

Your hand pulls at the dog tag he wore. You use the necklace like a leash, pulling at it like he's a dog you're commanding. You wrap your fingers around it, your thumb caressing the metal pendant. “You're mine,” you whispered in wonder, “You taste of me.”

Coriolanus nods, agreeing to whatever you say. He just wants you! That's it. Ruin him. Ruin him for everybody else forever! You have that power. Take it and use it, that's all he wants.

You raise your hips, taking his cock in your hand. You pressed his tip against your clit, you gasped as you slowly began to rub his cockhead against your pearl. His pre-cum coating your bud, and soon all over your cunt. You were teasing him every time you let his cockhead get near your slit, but you don't let him slip inside of you. He lets out a whimper when you do it again.

Coriolanus finds out how easily he could make you. He switches the position within a split second, his hands on your hips as he uses his weight to press you down. You don't fight back. He growls out your name, his eyes flashing in annoyan

“Please-” he whines, “stop teasing.”

“Make me,” you smirk.

“Don't-” kiss, “Play-,” kiss, “With-” kiss, “Me.”

“Not when I have waited for you for so long,” he adds.

His fingers pressed into your flesh. He gets a hold of his length and pressed it to your slit. “Can I?” He asked you, he wanted your permission. He needs your ‘yes’ before he takes you as his forever.

“Of course, Coryo.”

He begins to push in his tip, his length slipping inside of you with ease. He gasps as he feels your warmth all over his cock. The feeling is so overwhelming that he has to stop midway to not cum right away. He squeezed the base of his dick before he continued to push inside of you again, slowly inch by inch. He breathes through his mouth, his eyes closed as pleasure fills every corner of his mind. You felt perfect.

“You feel so good,” he whines.

His cock twitched inside of your walls. He bites the inside of his mouth, trying to use pain to distract himself from the mind-blowing pleasure. Meanwhile, you clenched your pussy as if to see how much his cock had stretched you. The two of you gasped from the feeling.

“Fuc- ah!”

Coryo pulls out a few of his inches and begins to thrust in. You moan out, feeling pleasure in your veins and seeing stars in your eyes. Snow's hands were on either side of your head as he balanced himself above you. His dog tag dangles in front of your lips as his hips continue to move. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pushing his cock even deeper into you. Coriolanus lets out a groan from the feeling.

“I won't be able to last long,” he admits, his cheeks getting red. Despite the overwhelming pleasure, he couldn't help but feel ashamed about how heavy his balls were with cum ready to be released inside of you.

“You will,” you whispered your hand on his nape. You squeeze it. “You will last as long as I fucking want, Coriolanus,” you said to him, pulling him down to meet your lips. The kiss was messy and open-mouthed. Another hand of yours was on his shoulder, your nails digging into his skin. You were marking him in your own way. With long, red scratches.

Coriolanus slows down, ready to please you however you want. You moan into his mouth and he eats the sound up. Coriolanus thrusts his hips faster, unable to truly control himself. How could he when you made him feel this good? He couldn't decide on the pace. He wanted this to last hours. He wanted to cum.

He kept switching between fast and slow until he found himself with his back on the floor. You are on top of him, your hands holding his hands above his head. “Be a good boy,” you said to him before you began to ride him.

You grind yourself against his cock, letting his cockhead kiss your spongy spot with each movement of your hips. Your arousal was coating your thighs and now it was on his skin as well. You were so wet and messy. Coriolanus loved it. You use one hand of yours to play with his balls. Coriolanus could feel his eyes rolling back.

“Don't- I-” he cries out in bliss when you squeeze his balls gently. You hush him with a kiss, your hips moving according to your will. You had set the perfect pace. It wasn't too much for either of you, letting the pleasure be prolonged.

He knew you were close with the way your push was contracting on his shaft. He knew you were close because your eyes were closed and fuck, you were cock drunk on him. He knew you were close because you had slowed down, and now rocking your hips back and forth. The hold you had on his hands had loosened. He breaks free without a fuss and places his hands on your hips.

He begins to push his hips up, fucking his cock into you. You whine, your eyes opening as you see him take control again. His teeth pulled at his lower lip, silencing his groans as he continues to fuck into you in this position. You use one of your hands to rub at your sensitive clit, feeling yourself getting closer to the edge.

You tense, your pussy tightening around Coriolanus’ cock. Your only warning was the moan of his name as your cunt begins to spasm around his dick. Coriolanus lets out a deep groan, his lower lip bloody from how hard his teeth dug into the flesh. He fucks you throughout your orgasm.

“Get off,” he whines, “I can't cum inside of you.”

“Do I look like I give a fuck?”

Coriolanus doesn't realize he's coming inside of you until he feels like jelly. He had stuffed you full of his thick, hot cum without a warning. But you had already stated you didn't give a fuck. So he supposed it didn't matter. All that mattered was that he had you now.

Forever.

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧

Hours later, you and Coriolanus find yourself at the train station. Ready to go back to the Capitol, once and for all. Commander Hoff had personally come to escort you both.

Coriolanus was about to enter the train. You were already inside. But Commander Hoff stops him, “Son.” Coriolanus stills, waiting to hear what Hoff has to say.

“Don't let her go. You don't know what she had to keep you safe.”

Coriolanus looks Commander Hoff in the eyes and nods. “I won't,” he promises, knowing damn well he will keep it with his life. Coriolanus gets inside the train after saying goodbye. He stops before he opens the door to the cabin you were sitting in. He pulls up the sleeve of his shirt to look at his wrist. He grins as he sees the scar reverted to the number most important to you.

It was today's date.

Coriolanus slides the door and walks to his future.

Coriolanus walks to you.

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anobsessedchocolatechip · 7 months

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Okay Christine Daae is THE MOST UNJUSTIFIABLY OVERHATED CHARACTER IN MUSICAL HISTORY. THERE I SAID IT.

This VERY YOUNG WOMAN somewhere from 15-22 lost her father, the only person she ever had, at a young age and found her way of expressing grief through music. a MUCH OLDER MAN (we are not going to deny this fact please) saw her and decided to take advantage of that grief in order for her to fall in love with him (I know he had his reasons but it STILL HAPPENED) and after she found out how the man manipulated her she still understood why he did it, even after he KILLED PEOPLE she saw that he just wanted her love, and even after he threatened to KILL HER AND HER FIANCÉE for EXISTING (“now let it be war upon you both”) she was VERY smart and knew how to break the murderous trance that Erik was in, by showing him the one thing she knew he needed, compassion. She has the unique ability to see good in people when it’s not visible to anyone else, even after it seems like they’re past the point of ever being good again. That’s some LUKE SKYWALKER SHIT. She is literally a HEROINE who does not let anyone’s shit get to her, not raouls dumbass plan, not Erik’s anger. She wants to SING HER SONGS and she WILL, DAMN IT. Yes she’s naive sometimes but what did you want?? Her to be perfect?? Then you’d just call her a Mary Sue. Also she was a GRIEF STRICKEN YOUNG GIRL WITH FAITH IN THE WORLD OF COURSE SHE’D BELIEVE A NICE VOICE TEACHING HER TO SING AND BELIEVE IN HERSELF.

Christine Daae is a SMART, BRAVE, EMPATHETIC, ABSOLUTELY AMAZING CHARACTER AND IF I SEE ONE MORE PERSON BLAMING HER FOR *ANYTHING* THAT HAPPENED TO HER I AM GOING TO EXPLODE.

(Disclaimer: this is not an anti erik or anti raoul post, this is a PRO CHRISTINE DAAE POST) (GOD I LOVE HER)

Edit: Jesus some of you guys saw “this is not an anti Erik post” and said this sign can’t stop me because I can’t read 😇😍

Also if you hate Christine and feel the need to make that clear in the comments it will be deleted because this is a Christine positive blog and I will not allow mean people in my little corner of the internet where I share my little opinion with some cool little people who agree with it ��️ shout out to all the people out there who disagree but didn’t feel the need to curse me out in the comments, I see you and appreciate you 😌

#phantom of the opera #poto #christine daae #the phantom of the opera #erik phantom #phantom #erik/christine #raoul x christine

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absolutely-esme · 5 months

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What if Tim was the Ghostliest Bat

Lots of DPxDC crossover writers have Tim Drake being the one non-liminal Bat, or becoming liminal late in the game. This is probably due to the fact that most of them have died and come back and Tim hasn't.

It makes sense, but, hear me out, what if Tim was actually the most liminal and had been liminal for the longest.

The other Bats had a more standard type of death and resurrection. Afterward, they are simply living people.

Tim's parents are archeologists and bring back artifacts from all over the world. At least some of these artifacts are kept in the house. It wouldn't be too much of a stretch to think that some of them have something ghostly to them.

The specifics could vary. Perhaps the artifacts just steadily release ectoplasm into the environment. Perhaps they thin the veil in places and Tim wanders in and out of the Ghost Zone, getting as much socialization from ghosts as from the living, if not more. Heck, maybe one of those artifacts was meant for travel between realms and Tim accidentally opens a portal on himself and becomes a halfa at a young age.

However it happens, Tim grows up exposed to ectoplasm day in and day out. He adapts to the environment he spends his formative years in. He gradually becomes more ghostly. No one notices for a while because no one around him recognizes the signs and Tim is a quick study at keeping up appearances, at least to surface-level observation.

Tim knows how to behave around strangers and distant acquaintances. That said, he doesn't necessarily realize that his more ghostly tendencies are abnormal and not simply something that etiquette dictates is not shared with strangers.

Tim pays relatively little concern to his own safety because some part of his subconscious knows that he's already assured an afterlife that's familiar and comfortable to some part of him, though he is still conscientious and considerate of the health and safety of others.

He obsesses over The Bats, follows them around and takes pictures. Ghosts tend to be fairly intense about what's important to them, so it doesn’t seem wrong to him. After all, he's not trying to force himself into their lives, and he makes a point to be unobtrusive with his photography so as not to impact them at all. By ghostly standards, he's being quite reserved by keeping his distance and taking care not to bother them, and his human social knowledge doesn't extend far beyond surface level.

He doesn't interact with the Bats at all until Batman's mental health becomes a public safety issue, and even then he tries to get them to resolve the matter internally, first. He only begins directly inserting himself into their lives after recieving express permission from a member of the family.

Once he does become one of them, however, he is intense and unreserved about it in the way that ghosts tend to be about everything that's important to them. He pays close attention and remembers everything. He goes above and beyond with anything they might ask of him, and even with some things they don't ask for but seem to need. He cares in a way that's just a bit uncanny.

No one talks to him about some of his more extreme tendencies. Maybe they just don't have the emotional bandwidth because they're still grieving. Maybe the Bats refrain from commenting on Tim's stalking and general over-the-top-ness because stones and glass houses.

Tim doesn't understand what went wrong in his relationship with Steph because human behavior standards and boundaries are not intuitive to him, nor has he been taught about them. Grief-stricken Bats are not a good resource when it comes to behavioral norms. For all that she's certain he'd never intentionally hurt or upset her, Tim is creepy. Sweet and caring, but creepy.

He also doesn't freak out when Steph comes back and pretends to be a hallucination. The deception doesn't work at all because his subconscious ghostliness means that his brain doesn't automatically reject the idea of a dead comrade being back. He just goes straight into "Hooray, you're back!" mode without stopping to question it. Steph doesn't take the deception any further because he's already caught onto it and he's so happy to see her.

They remain friends.

Jason comes back from the dead and Tim immediately latches on. He doesn't care if Jason is attacking him. Jason is one of his, and he's back. He grins and keeps his banter friendly and gushes about how happy he is to have Jason back through the entire beatdown at Titans Tower. He doesn't actually start sounding worried until Jason begins walking away after writing on the wall with his blood. Tim begs him not to go. The whole experience freaks Jason out.

Tim initially has a bit of an issue with Damian, not because of the murder attempts (which Tim doesn't especially care about), but because of Damian's insistence on not allowing Tim to remain in the family, and because his apparent goal of being Batman's only family member makes him register as a threat to others Tim cares about. Eventually, things settle a bit once it's made clear that Damian isn't going after anyone else and will not be allowed to kick him out.

The other Bats are equal parts wary of Tim (because he's creepy and unsettling in ways that are difficult to define) and worried for Tim (because he doesn't seem to have a sense of self preservation).

Lots and lots of Tim being spooky without realizing it and freaking everyone out with no explanation. No one understands what, exactly, is so off about Tim that makes him so unsettling, until Sam Manson gets dragged to a gala in Gotham and immediately clocks him.

Do with this as you will.

#dpxdc #dcxdp #Prompt #Liminal Tim Drake #Halfa Tim Drake

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mentallyinvernation · 2 years

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AU where Hob gets into an accident that causes him to lose his memories, so Dream has to explain their relationship. Except, because it’s Dream, he explains it really poorly.

This starts with Hob waking up on his second day in hospital, very confused to find a lanky goth perched on the end of his bed (who’s quite possibly an angel, he’s not sure). And the goth just goes ‘Hello, Hob Gadling’ which sounds infinitely better than what the nurses have been calling him (Bob Galden). Hob feels right. Especially when this stranger says it. The only problem is, he doesn’t recognise this cute goth, and cute goth is just sat there staring at him like he’s waiting for Bob - Rob - Robert - Hob to explain what’s going on, which is insane, because how is Hob supposed to know that when he’s the one in the hospital bed with amnesia. The nurses told him he has amnesia, anyway, so he relays that. The stranger looks stricken by such news. Hob apologises for not remembering the strangers name, and asks if they’re friends or something, which is apparently the wrong thing to do, because suddenly the stranger is standing up - there might even be tears in his eyes, it’s hard to tell in this light. But the prospect of this stranger leaving makes something horrible and scared twist in his gut, so he begs him to stay. This is the only person that’s visited the hospital in search of Hob. The only person that knows him - knows Hob Gadling. And Hob Gadling very much needs someone who knows Hob Gadling right now, because he sure as hell doesn’t.

Now flipping back over to dream, he’s catastrophically reeling from the fact his human doesn’t remember him, and unpacking whatever feelings he might have about that sounds mortifying. So, he’s opting to just abort himself from the situation altogether to save himself the grief (disclaimer: it would not save him from the grief). Except, he can’t leave, because Hob is begging him to stay, looking lost and terrified, and there are Certain Thing’s he needs to know. So, Dream sits back down. He explains that Hob is immortal. He explains they met in 1389. He explains their shared curiosity of life brought them together. He explains they attend centenary dates because they’re bound in an arrangement that’ll last until the end of time unless Hob decides otherwise. (‘As in, Til Death Do Us Part?’ Hob asks, sounding vaguely horrified, vaguely awed, and Dream doesn’t think that’s an inaccurate assessment, so he nods). And it’s not that Dream is rambling, because Dream of the Endless does not ramble, but he can’t seem to Stop Talking all of a sudden - like part of him hopes his words might guide Hob’s memories back into the light. So, he keeps going until there’s nothing left to say, and once he’s finished Hob’s staring at him with wide eyes.

“So, we’re married.” Is what Hob takes from all that.

Dream’s too stunned to correct him.

What’s worse, is Hob just accepts that as reality. He spends a solid minute - a minute - fumbling over the initial shock as he processes that information, before taking the lead on Dream’s silence. He launches into a rant about anything and everything his two-day old memory has to offer, smiling again, and then dares to ask questions about their life.

And Dream just sits there internally screaming about the whole thing.

#do they not just act and sound like an old married couple already #The Sandman #dream #dreamling #hob gadling #dream of the endless #morpheus #hob x dream #hob x morpheus #netflix

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yangsharperavery · 11 months

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my carmy/sydney related thoughts on season 2

i think when digesting this show, it's done more easily when we see who carmy and sydney are as people and how they bring that beingness to their dynamic.

it's interesting to see the takes from people who are troubled by what they saw in this season in terms of their relationship.

i personally thought there was so much fascinating groundwork that was laid.

we knew when molly gordon was cast they were likely trying to introduce a love interest for carmy.

i was not shocked, i was not surprised. i literally expected it.

doesn't mean i wasn't rolling my eyes but i was well aware of what function she would play within the narrative.

but the writing is so sharp that there are a million subtle elements of carmy's character, and what we know about him up to this point, including what was illuminated by the christmas episode.

let's first talk about carmy's choices and behavior where it relates to claire vs sydney and the restaurant.

we know that carmy is awkward, isn't incredibly relationally experienced and has sacrificed everything for his career and specific level of skill.

he'd just been ruminating on expanding his experiences as expressed in the al-anon meeting.

we know this man is intensely grief-stricken and also that he's battling his own mental health.

we also know he's literally been bred from chaos and emotional tumult.

even him not going to his own brother's funeral makes so much sense after that christmas episode.

he couldn't stand to witness what that type of grief had done to his already deteriorating mother.

so he's trying to conceptualize fun.

notice he wasn't trying to conceptualize love or relationships or a partner.

it was literally presented and integrated as fun.

so he runs into this girl he used to a have a crush on and even then, he's not sold because he knows himself, he knows his priorities, his propensities toward self sabotage, etc so he gives her a wrong number.

yet she persists.

so to me, this may seem like a sign to him to give this a chance, do some exterior exploration of something outside of the kitchen and outside of his career and outside of his own neurosis.

so he's just going with the flow. trying to be "normal". not really knowing the content or context of anything. another reason why he wasn't even calling claire his girlfriend.

claire even brings up the fact that they'd hung out so much but didn't actually talk.

which is SPOT on because the audience only actually ever sees them talking about their careers or what they were like as kids/teenagers.

but you know who carmy DOES talk to? hmm, more on that later.

so claire is symbolic of this thing that was pleasant when he was younger, when he was less of this grown conglomerate of anxiety and disarray and sorrow. a part of him that's separate from all of his current worry and fixations and dysregulation.

him saying he loves her so much and that he thinks she's so great actually rings hollow because we, the audience, didn't actually get to see when and where that level of specific emotion or intensity occurred.

so off rip i don't believe him. i don't think about it in the context of if or when he and sydney explore anything, because it feels patently untrue to me.

and completely separate from sydney.

it's not earned. it's not rooted. it's not tacitly valid.

it's fine. it's a good time. it's some laughs and conversation and sex and a nice, normal person he has fond, nostalgic memories of.

and i think it's written that way on purpose!

so him professing this to other people feels like this way to continue digging a hole of his own distraction, his absence, his lack of attention to detail.

i completely understand the frustration that many feel about interpreting this like carmy was essentially choosing claire over sydney.

carmy was trying to have an unfamiliar and different experience and didn't have the depth perception, the self awareness and the internal regulation to recognize he was doing it to the detriment of something so deeply and irrevocably important to him.

as soon as sydney brought it up, he got defensive but then moments later recognized his errors and apologized.

she told him she didn't want to share his attention.

he told her she was absolutely correct and that she deserved his full focus.

what's fascinating about this part is they aren't even explicitly talking about the restaurant.

she says "me" and "i", he says "you".

uh. wow.

now even in the context of JUST the restaurant this is saying ALOT here.

him instantly apologizing and agreeing with her requests means a substantial amount.

carmy isn't an ass because he stood sydney up for the palate cleanser. or even because he went absent when he shouldn't have.

carmy is deeply troubled and wounded and suffering and he was grappling for something else to feel or do or think about besides what he's ALWAYS thought about and done and fixated on.

that's why he's unreliable, that's why he's haphazard and emotionally or energetically messy. he's coping.

that's why he knows he makes mistakes all the time. because he feels like he's a screwup in a lot of specific ways in his life so he's used to it.

he's not being malicious or cruel or even unkind to sydney.

and this isn't an excuse. it's a reason. it's what all the information we have about him up to this point is providing us.

and yes, his timing is godawful.

but he trusts this person so implicitly because he knows how talented and capable she is.

carmy does not know HOW to be a partner, of any kind. where would he have learned that? where would that have been modeled for him?

"this is what you wanted originally and i'm giving it to you."

so let's transpose the way carmy and claire are presented with how carmy and sydney are together.

he literally can't WAIT to hear what sydney has to say. about literally anything.

at any given time.

"say more please."

all he wants to do is listen to her talk. he wants to know everything about her. the personal stuff too, almost especially.

he listens to her so closely. in the first or second episode she loses her train of thought and he repeats everything she just said.

i don't even think it was restaurant related.

he brings up her mother not once, but twice.

he feels like he should have known that sydney lost her.

he wants to pour into and believe in her because he does. he already does.

he's ready to apologize to her because he knows what a mess he can be and often is.

he knows what his anger can do. he knows how he was conditioned and raised in the industry and he doesn't want that at all for her, least of all from him.

especially after she walked out last season.

he's hyperaware of it. he calms down instantly both times she does the sign for sorry that HE taught her.

he has this propulsion to NEED to know what's happening with her in the very moment something occurs.

he did it last season when she quit on the spot and he kept trying to talk to her when she was leaving.

he did it this season when she was frustrated and trying to say goodnight after carmy was actively telling everyone goodnight and to go home, yet he tried to talk to her when she was leaving.

"what?"

"i'm saying goodnight."

he was repeatedly ushering everyone out but because of the look on her face, carmy's like wait, "what's that about, what's happening?"

he can't stand it!

same with them outside last season when he brought her food and asked what was wrong.

if something is up with her, he reacts immediately.

if she's peeved, he wants to know why right away, he wants to know what to do to make it better, how to approach it, what to say, he goes out in search of that information in the moment it's happening.

sydney is his soft place.

he feels very anchored and tethered to her and i believe she feels the same with him.

sydney is his respite. his peace. the thought of her literally calms and stills him.

her being energetically seats him.

we saw it penetrate his seismic and consistent panic in real time.

that was clearly displayed for all of us to witness.

he doesn't want to be cruel or unkind or anything other than present and communicative with her.

i'd venture to say he actually doesn't want anything more than that, besides maybe the restaurant to succeed.

now sydney is in her "i have something to prove" era.

she is so driven and so determined but she's also a realist and is inundated and surrounded by all this proof that what she's doing may be foolhardy.

at the very least, it's incredibly risky. it's a jump.

and someone deeply ambitious and creative and tuned in and focused like sydney has such fear of failure.

because she knows what it often means for someone like her.

that's why she overextends herself so continuously.

she's often had to and she thinks it gets her closer to the opposite of failure.

she was not only aware of the gaps carmy's absence was leaving but also planning this tasting menu with a MILLION things on it because something was gonna be the star because it MUST.

and i think the carmy absence flares a bit of abandonment as well, like he's left her in a lurch.

she has feelings about that.

she finds out why he did, and TRIES not to have feelings about that.

that's confusing and she's already beyond stressed out so she tries to stuff it.

her success is so tied to her identity because she's worked so hard to get where she is and still feels like she's not where she wants to be.

so she wrestles with worthiness and worry and the financial climate of affability for restaurants. she's riddled with what if she can't hack it?

she has evidence of that being true in the past.

she has evidence of her past failures and those are what keep her up at night, not the infinite possibilities of her future successes.

and that's also why she picked carmy.

because she was always going to pick the best.

she was always going to follow the career and moves of the standout in the industry.

of the person that made the best meal she's ever had.

so if he's anal retentive or jumpy or doesn't call about changing the structural elements of their restaurant while it's happening, she deals with it because she picked him.

she chose him. and then he chose her.

(and then she lightweight chose him again when she came back)

so that's why when they're talking he so often checks in by looking her in the face, scanning her expression. he instantly picks up on something being off or wrong or him being "shitty".

or why when they're under a damn table, despite being peeved or annoyed with his disappearing acts, she lets out the most vulnerable, softest admissions about the perceived necessity of her contribution and future failure.

or why he responds with "i couldn't do it without you" so instantly, so rapidly, it's like it's etched in him. that's the quickest response he'd given to anything she said to him the entire season, she barely got the words fully out before he was verbally soothing her.

then he STAMPS this by saying "i wouldn't WANT to do this without you."

there was such an unexpectedly, viscerally aching quality to that exchange.

it's honestly searing.

i'm sorry are these wedding vows or are we talking about opening a damn restaurant?

or the way he says "you love taking care of people" to her when she talks about making sugar food.

that's also a stellar mirrored moment because i've seen a few people, i believe @eatandsleepwell is one, talk a lot about how that's one of carmy's main drivers and internal tenants.

they see so much of themselves in each other.

the buried parts, the unknown parts, the odd parts.

the parts they wanna work on. the parts they wanna exalt.

they are so similar. they are also quite different.

they have reflected one another in the narrative since s1 ep1.

they exist so flawlessly within the others interstices.

she wordlessly hands him pepto for his stomach.

he tells her he won't let her fail.

the pulsing undercurrent of sydney and carmy is pretty fucking palpable.

there's people on social media who weren't convinced or didn't ship them last season that have suddenly completely seen the vision.

whether the writers actually go there or not remains to be seen.

i don't necessarily trust that they will or won't to be honest because i know there are so many moving pieces and variables and factors.

ships get bypassed and messed up all the time.

i don't watch any shows for ship guarantees but i know how writer's rooms work.

i'd venture to bet that at least 1/3 of that room DOES have an interest in seeing something happen between carmy and sydney, (maybe even 1/2).

or at the very least the option to have it explored.

different people write different episodes, the showrunner/creator can scratch or add whatever.

scripts are TIRELESSLY edited and shortened.

yet there is alot that makes the final cut that points to the potent carmy and sydney marrow.

him giving her the captain reigns before they served for the first time, her saying 'let it rip'.

to me, sydney walked into that failing sandwich shop with a mission that day, they locked eyes and immediately fused.

something happened to the both of them in that moment and they largely don't even realize or can adequately reckon with its magnitude yet.

#the bear #the bear fx #carmy x sydney #the bear spoilers #carmy berzatto #sydney adamu #tldr #this is literally a dissertation don't feel bad if you didn't read it all

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suzannahnatters · 9 months

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Let Your Knights Weep

One of the big things I've had to train myself out of when writing medieval historical fiction?

The stiff upper lip.

This used to really bewilder my editor, who for some time attempted to nudge me away from having my grown men weep and wail and blubber, but for me it's an essential part of the setting. Whether in grief or fear, medieval people did not hold things back.

Here are some of my favourite quotes to explain.

First, a couple from two great 20th century medievalists:

CS Lewis in his Letters put it this way:

“By the way, don't 'weep inwardly' and get a sore throat. If you must weep, weep: a good honest howl! I suspect we - and especially, my sex - don't cry enough now-a-days. Aeneas and Hector and Beowulf, Roland and Lancelot blubbered like schoolgirls, so why shouldn't we?”

Dorothy Sayers, in her fabulous Introduction to her translation of THE SONG OF ROLAND, speaking of Charlemagne discovering Roland's body on the battlefield:

Here too, I think we must not reckon it weakness in him that he is overcome by grief for Roland’s death, that he faints upon the body and has to be raised up by the barons and supported by them while he utters his lament. There are fashions in sensibility as in everything else. The idea that a strong man should react to great personal and national calamities by a slight compression of the lips and by silently throwing his cigarette into the fireplace is of very recent origin. By the standards of feudal epic, Charlemagne’s behaviour is perfectly correct. Fainting, weeping, and lamenting is what the situation calls for. The assembled knights and barons all decorously follow his example. They punctuate his lament with appropriate responses:

By hundred thousand the French for sorrow sigh; There’s none of them but utters grievous cries.

At the end of the next laisse:

He tears his beard that is so white of hue, Tears from his head his white hair by the roots; And of the French an hundred thousand swoon.

We may take this response as being ritual and poetic; grief, like everything else in the Epic, is displayed on the heroic scale. Though men of the eleventh century did, in fact, display their emotions much more openly than we do, there is no reason to suppose that they made a practice of fainting away in chorus. But the gesture had their approval; that was how they liked to think of people behaving. In every age, art holds up to us the standard pattern of exemplary conduct, and real life does its best to conform. From Charlemagne’s weeping and fainting we can draw no conclusions about his character except that the poet has represented him as a perfect model of the “man of feeling” in the taste of the period.

OK, now let's dig into some quotes that I found just in Christopher Tyerman's Chronicles of the First Crusade and Joinville's Life of St Louis:

Truly you would have grieved and sobbed in pity when the Turks killed any of our men....

As for the knights, they stood about in a great state of gloom, wringing their hands because they were so frightened and miserable, not knowing what to do with themselves and their armour, and offering to sell their shields, valuable breastplates and helmets for threepence or fivepence or any price they could get....

When Guy, who was a very honourable knight, had heard these lies, he and all the others began to weep and to make loud lamentation....

They stayed in the houses cowering, some some for hunger and some for fear of the Turks....

Now at vigils, the time of trust in God’s compassion, many gave up hope and hurriedly lowered themselves with ropes from the wall-tops; and in the city soldiers, returning from the encounter, circulated widely a rumour that mass decapitation of the defenders was in store. To add weight to the terror, they too fled…

In the course of that day’s battle there had been many people, and of fine appearance too, who had come very shamefully flying over the little bridge you know of and had fled away so panic-stricken that all our attempts to make them stay with us had been in vain. I could tell you some of their names, but shall refrain from doing so, because they are now dead.

I could go on looking for quotes in all the other medieval literature I've read, but that would be beyond the scope of this Tumblr post.

In the meantime, this leads me to make some comments on how trauma was perceived.

In Jonathan Riley-Smith's The First Crusade and the Idea of Crusading, the author discusses the mental breakdowns suffered by the first crusaders during the second siege of Antioch, which caused many of them to flee at the moment of direst need:

In these stressful circumstances it is not surprising that the crusaders were often very frightened. At times, indeed, they seem to have been almost paralysed by a terror that they themselves could hardly comprehend. … When the crusade was bottled up in Antioch by Kerbogha's relief force it was gripped by such blind panic that there was the prospect of a mass break-out and on the night of 10 or 11 Juney 1098 Bohemond and Adhemar had the gates of the city closed. It is worth noting that many of those whom later chroniclers, writing after the events in comparative comfort in Europe, vilified for cowardice and desertion seem to have been treated more charitably by their fellow-crusaders, who must have understood what pressures they had been under.

In conclusion: the way we feel about things today in the English-speaking isn't necessarily the way people felt about things in the past (and this goes for other cultures, real or imagined, too). I'm continually catching myself writing people with stiff upper lips and emotional reservations, and having to remind myself that the culture was different back them. If a grown man wanted to weep, he could. That's a good thing. (Oh, and my medieval historical fantasy? Check out the Watchers of Outremer series on Amazon or wherever books are sold!)

#history #writing #historical fiction #medieval history #medieval #middle ages #historical #masculinity #history of masculinity #toxic masculinity

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ronwestbreeze · 8 months

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you're gonna go far | 5

pairing: jake sully x neytiri x tsu'tey x fem!human! reader summary: a scientist arrives on pandora (unwillingly) a year after the exile of the rda. now she must deal with the likes of a clan leader, a great warrior, and a thanator rider. . . word count: 7.4k

read on ao3

“What do you mean pregnant?” Jake questioned looking absolutely bewildered.

Next to you, Norm cleared his throat, “While we were doing our rounds here, Dr. Reeds discovered it. We ran some tests and turns out it’s true. Grace’s avatar is pregnant.”

Jake frowned, “I’m sorry, that still doesn’t explain how she got like this.”

You shrugged, not looking up from your tablet, “Well, apparently when two avatars love each other very much—”

“We don’t know.” Norm instead answered, sending you a glare, to which you ignored.

After your rather strange discovery, Norm got in touch with Jake and an hour later the rest of the scientists were cleared out of the room. And in replacement, three tall ass Na’vi crowded around Augustine’s avatar tank while you and Norm—still in human form—stood on the other side of the tank, staring straight at the glass while Jake, Neytiri, and Tsu’tey looked over it.

Their reactions were as expected. Jake confused. Neytiri wary yet curious. And Tsu’tey with his usual scowl—you were seriously beginning to think it was just the way his face was set—but with a hint of apprehension.

“She’s two months along or more, I’m honestly surprised we hadn’t noticed it until now.” Norm frowned, looking at the small stomach. The avatar wasn’t showing yet, perhaps because of how thin they all naturally were—but upon further inspection, the small two-month-old bump was quite noticeable.

“So, it just appeared? No explanation?” Jake questioned, also frowning down at the avatar. “How is that even possible?”

Again, you shrugged and finally looked up from your tablet. “Well, that depends,” Frankly, you didn’t want to be here. Being practically stuck in the same room with two people who both pissed you off and had you on guard constantly. Like they were going to attack you at any second—perhaps throw more baseless accusations your way. It would often leave you exhausted afterward. “What exactly was Dr. Augustine doing before her avatar ended up unresponsive? Any secret relationships? Did you ever find her sneaking out—possibly to meet someone in secret?”

Jake was the one who responded, unfortunately. “We shared a station together for three months. She never left that place or met with anyone.”

Norm nodded in agreement while Neytiri placed her hand on the tank glass, “In her last moments we tried moving her spirit through Eywa and into her false body. But she was very weak…Could she have been with child then?”

“Had to be. She couldn’t have been pregnant after—after she passed.” Norm crossed his arms—almost like he was hugging himself.

Well, that wasn’t much to go on but you didn’t say it out loud since the very sight of this woman’s avatar—or at least talking about her clearly made the four of them react.

You had no personal connection to the late Dr. Grace Augustine, she was your role model of course but that was about it. You’ve never met her, therefore you were the only one with an unbiased perspective.

Their reactions were different but the same in some ways.

Norm hid it by pushing forward and moving the conversation along. Neytiri doesn’t hide her emotion when talking about Dr. Augustine. Her face was gentle and grief-stricken. You wondered if Neteyam, who was snuggly strapped to her chest, felt his mother’s strong emotions.

Jake wore a mask of sorts but you could still see the traits. Low ears, tail tucked behind his leg, avoidant gaze—it was then you realized how easy it was to read Na’vi’s expressions. You wondered if reading humans was difficult for them, except for Jake. Na’vi just had a more expressive face. Unless they were experienced at hiding it well.

Like Tsu’tey. The clan leader looked distant and was the quietest out of the four.

You supposed that Grace seemed to be the one thing that bonded the four. Especially Jake, Neytiri, and Tsu’tey. They had each other to lean on, you could tell by how unconsciously they neared each other.

But you and Norm? Maybe you could lean on each other but it wasn’t necessarily the same.

You lost your mother. Who could you lean on?

It must’ve been nice.

You knew you had been staring too long when Tsu’tey’s eyes locked with yours.

As subtly as you could, you looked away to tune in back to what Norm was saying, “So obvious questions aside, what should we do?”

“That’s not an obvious question?” You frowned, earning a jab in your side from him.

The three were quiet as they glanced at each other—or rather they were having a silent conversation with each other. You could tell by the way Jake raised his brows in question. Neytiri’s meaningful look. And Tsu’tey’s narrowed eyes.

You tucked the tablet under your arm and cleared your throat, drawing their attention to you, “While you guys decide who should take care of it, the avatar would have to stay here. The baby—if there is truly one in there—would have to be born here.”

Norm nodded in agreement, “Grace’s avatar will be under Dr. Reeds’ care since she is the one who identified the fetus—"

“No.” Tsu’tey instantly scowled.

“Told you,” Norm mumbled next to you.

You rolled your eyes, briefly locking eyes with Neytiri who watched the two of you with a small frown. There was a flash of something that floated passed her eyes, something you didn’t have time to make out right now.

“The Sky People know nothing about caring for a child of our people.” Tsu’tey scowled. “None of them do! I will not trust the child—or sa’nok’s body in the hands of—”

“—Demon. Yeah, you’ve made that clear.” You cut in calmly, earning a warning look from Norm and a vicious glare from the clan leader. You ignored both, “The facts don’t change. The body cannot be moved. The avatar is essentially dead—this tank is its life support, therefore the baby’s life support. So, if we keep the avatar and the baby here—"

“You do not get to decide this—”

Now you were irritated. You tried. You really did. “Then deal with a dead fucking baby for all I care—”

“Reeds.” Norm frowned.

“Tsu’tey!” Neytiri hissed, giving the man’s arm a slight shove.

The only person who appeared calm was Jake—which wasn’t surprising. He was looking at you, not with malice or accusation, but with contemplation. “If we keep the baby here…?”

You pressed your lips into a thin line and let out a short, agitated breath. “Since the avatar is basically dead, it can’t push the baby out the usual way when the time comes to it. We’d have to perform a C-section to get it out.” Tsu’tey opened his mouth to protest but you quickly beat him to it, “Once the baby is born, it’s yours. I nor the rest of us have an interest in keeping it here. It would be illogical. Are rations are terrible already—we don’t have the resources to take care of a baby. So you won’t have to worry about it being raised by demons.”

In the last part, you directed your pointed look toward Tsu’tey was still glaring at you. A part of you was smug, the fear and hesitation around him slowly going away.

You really didn’t care much for what he thought about you and you made sure he knew it. Of course, being this reckless with your mouth wasn’t the smartest idea and he probably didn’t appreciate it—but perhaps that was the best part about it.

He hissed something in Na’vi at you, which he knew you wouldn’t understand. The one thing he had over you. And with his own carefully crafted smugness, he knew this too. You rolled your eyes.

Neytiri snapped at him in response which seemed to surprise both Tsu’tey and Jake. You glanced toward Norm with a questioning look. He leaned toward your ear and mumbled, “Essentially, Neytiri’s okay with you watching over Grace’s avatar.” You both watched Tsu’tey reply with the same amount of ferocity. “And Tsu’tey’s pissed that she’s siding with you.”

You hummed but didn’t respond. Neytiri agreed with the plan, this also surprised you but you refused to allow the others to see that. Instead, you’d hold your chin high and bathe in your victory of having at least one of them agree with you for once.

It was nice that Neytiri was defending your idea. At least someone in this room was sane enough to.

Jake, who had been silent up to this point, suddenly cut into Neytiri and Tsu’tey’s argument, which caused the both of them to turn to him. He said something to them in a lowered voice and before you could ask Norm what he was saying, Neytiri and a begrudged Tsu’tey suddenly left the room.

You watched their retreating figures with quiet curiosity, until Jake spoke again in English, “Norm, can Reeds and I have the room?”

Now you were frowning. Hell, you were sure you looked like Tsu’tey then. Norm gave you a pleading look, one that said, ‘Just talk to him’.

And it took a lot. Every bit of strength to restrain yourself from snapping at Norm and telling him it was a bad idea to leave the both of you alone.

But instead, you ended up holding back a groan in your throat. You wouldn’t let him see you snap like that. You wouldn’t break your resolve so easily around him again.

Eventually, you nodded stiffly, “Go ahead. We’ll be quick.”

After a nod and a pat on your shoulder, Norm left you and Jake alone.

The last time the two of you had been alone was when you set your mother’s lab on fire. You wondered if this was his chance to find fault in you again. To throw more accusations your way.

Jake watched you. And you watched him.

Stubbornly, you weren’t going to speak first. After all, he was the one who wanted to talk to you alone.

After another few seconds of you sizing each other up, he finally spoke, “Why the sudden interest in looking after Grace’s child, huh? What’s in it for you?”

You raised a brow, “Do you want some kind of sinister motive?”

He frowned at your very sardonic response, “No. Just the truth, if that isn’t too much.”

“The idea of truth seems subjective here.” You argued dryly. “No matter what I say, somehow I’m still made into this heartless demon you all have painted in your image. Don’t be surprised when I start acting like it at some point.” The latter was a dark joke of your own. But you failed to make that known to him.

Jake glared, leaning on the tank. The glass was impenetrable, it wouldn’t break under his weight. But it would leave unnecessary hand prints for someone to clean later. “Christ, can we just be straight with each other? You said yourself you had no interest in raising it. So why willingly volunteer to watch it?”

Despite your dislike for being alone with him—or him in general—you expected this question. It was an easy answer to which you had no problem responding to. Whatever it took to get this interaction done and over with as quickly as possible.

So, you gave a simple shrug, “The avatar got pregnant without having any intercourse. And I’ve checked. The development is impossible but remarkable. I want to study it closely, to learn how it happened and how it will continue to develop over time. Hell, we’re not even sure if this is an actual baby inside. Could be something else. We won’t know until it’s out.”

The answer didn’t seem to satisfy him. You could tell by the way his ears remained pinned at the side of his head, “So that’s what all of this is to you? A science project?”

“I’m a scientist.” You said plainly as if the answer was obvious. “Plus, it gives me something to do here. I have to make up the time I’ve lost.”

Jake frowned as if waiting for more. You did not offer more.

“And you think you are capable of doing it?” It was your turn to frown. That was a question you weren’t exactly prepared for. More or less that was the last thing you expected him to ask. “Are you really equipped to take on something like this? Especially now?”

You glared now, “Are you questioning my credentials?”

“No, I have no doubt that you’re good in your field—”

“Excellent. I am excellent in my field.”

“—Your actions are unpredictable—”

“Ah, so you’re questioning my stability.” Your skin boiled with barely hidden rage. You wouldn’t let him see you snap like that. You wouldn’t break your resolve so easily around him again. “Afraid I’ll blow up another lab?”

Jake scowled, “That’s not funny.”

“It wasn’t a joke.”

It was a standoff. The two of you. Jake’s gaze was intense and yours severe. His jaw tightened and he shook his head with a humorless snicker, “You're impossible.”

“And you have no right to question whether or not I am in stable condition for a job I am qualified for.” You snapped back, your resolve barely holding by a thread. “So, is this what you wanted to talk to me about? Is that why you wanted to see me alone so that you could ridicule me without eyes watching? Do you think you’re a better man for that, Sully? Why don’t you just be straight with me, like you wanted? Stop fucking beating around the bush!”

“Yeah?” He challenged with a mocking chuckle. “You want me to be straight with you? Fine. Tsu’tey doesn’t trust you with Grace’s avatar—”

You scoffed, “Clearly!”

“—and I don’t either.”

With a shrug, you placed your tablet down, “Frankly, Sully, I have no interest in earning your trust. I’m here to do my job. That’s all. A job I have no choice in doing since I am stuck here on your planet. Trust has nothing to do with it.”

He looked resigned, guarding his face once more. The silence was all too consuming.

Jake didn’t want this. He was supposed to be making peace with you. At least attempt to be cordial with one another.

But you were impossible. You were difficult.

You saw no point to this conversation. Never did from the beginning. Why he wanted to talk to you in private only to rehash what’s already been said. What’s already been known. You didn’t understand what he was trying to do here. There was nothing else they could possibly talk about past the subject of the mysterious fetus. You did not want to be here.

He was impossible. He was difficult.

Jake straightened his back—a small inkling in the back of your mind wondered if that was the Marine in him. Standing to attention, as if addressing someone with power well above him. Or his enemy. You really couldn’t tell with them. “So where does that leave us?”

“It’s really simple, actually.” You crossed your arms. “The body can’t be moved. The avatar stays here. And so does the growing fetus. You clearly want it so it will be all yours when it’s born. Far away from my destructive hands. Does that work for you?”

After a long—unnecessary bout of silence—Jake finally pushed away from the tank, “Norm will be with you?”

You glared and clenched your jaw, “If that will get you to leave quicker, then yes.”

His tail lashed behind him, “Fine. Do what you want.”

Finally, he left. And you were alone.

After a moment of silence. After a moment of gathering yourself with a bit of pride left , you moved closer toward Dr. Augustine’s tank and frowned down at the growing stomach, “Good luck, kid. If you’re not careful, he just might end up as your father.”

The following days continued as usual, except after you were done with your garden, you headed over to the tank room to check on the fetus. You did things like making sure it’s kept healthy and or safely growing in the womb. Surprisingly, it was just as peaceful as tending to your garden. Sometimes a few scientists would pop in every now and then to check on other tanks, but most times it was just you and Dr. Augustine’s avatar. And it wasn’t entirely so bad being in almost total silence for the first time in a while.

Neytiri would come to the gardens whenever she could. Either keeping you company while giving advice and directions about how to better your crops. Or gently scolding you about how loud you continue to be while trekking through the forest.

Today, you were doing the latter. It was something different, a little change in your usual routine. You now carried your tablet in a bag in case any alert from Dr. Augustine’s avatar notified you as you followed Neytiri through the forest. Mimicking her every movement like you had done last time.

“You move with the forest. You listen. You see.” Neytiri jumped over a branch as you finally finished the climb up the tree the both of you were on. A part of you was envious of her ability to climb with ease while your cheeks only flushed with both being out of breath and embarrassed as she watched you try and fail to climb this godforsaken tree.

“Okay,” You nodded as you settled on the branch with her. It was uncomfortable, especially squatting the way she was. “What exactly am I supposed to be seeing?”

Neytiri frowned, “I cannot make you see. Only you can.”

You looked down at your now bare feet, not really sure how to respond to that or what it really meant. And you had a feeling that if you asked again, she’d probably scold you for it and further confuse you. So instead you looked up at some of the leaves above you. You raised your hand and let your fingers gently graze it, so very gently as if it would crumble beneath your touch.

The forest was overwhelmingly beautiful. Every day it was like you were looking at it for the first time. The healthy trees and plants. The wildlife that you avoided but watched from afar. Hearing the quiet streams of water running about in whichever direction you turned.

Somedays it reminded you of what you lost back on Earth. What the world had done to it. And how many, many years ago it had once looked as beautiful as this.

On other days, you appreciated the forest. For its food, for its beauty. Sometimes you liked the idea of calling this place your new home even though you weren’t quite sure what the exact word ‘home’ meant to you right now.

While caught up in your misty thoughts, you missed the way Neytiri watched you quietly. How she noticed your hidden wonder. The way your lips almost curve up until it’s back in that firm straight line again. Or how your face became gentle even for the slightest second before it’s gone as quickly as it had come. Like you were consciously keeping yourself from being content.

It was intriguing, watching how Sky People worked. Though of course, Neytiri would never admit this out loud.

But most of all, it was intriguing—almost alluring—watching how you worked.

Eventually, she caught sight of your mother’s songcord still wrapped around your wrist with a small frown.

Your slow methodic thoughts were soon interrupted when Neytiri grasped the wrist with your mother’s songcord around it. Instantly you tensed as she brought your wrist closer for her to see. But once you realize she made no sudden moves to take the cord from you, you relax. Only slightly.

She thumbed one of the beads, “When you die, your family sings your songcord to remember your life. And then it is given back to you.” Neytiri looked at you then, curiously. “You do not know your mother’s songcord.”

It wasn’t a question but more a knowing statement. Carefully, you took your wrist back from hers and held it close to your chest, “Obviously, I didn’t get much of a chance to.”

She nodded but didn’t push on the subject. Instead, she stood up on the branch just as something shuffled below the both of you.

Neytiri grabbed your arm and pulled you to your feet, “Come, come!”

Shed led you through the trees. It was especially difficult to keep up going from branch to branch and copying her movements to the best of your ability. At some points, you nearly slipped only to be quickly caught by Neytiri and forced to keep going. You both admired and envied her ease in prowess.

At some point, you both landed in a tree that gave you both a good view of the forest floor. There, was a creature slinking around the thick bushes. Neytiri crouched on the branch to watch the creature just as another came out into the light.

“Nantang.” She pointed at the creature below. “You Sky People call them viperwolf.”

“Nantung.” You repeated slowly, crouching down next to her.

“Nantang.” She corrected.

“Nantang.”

With a small nod, she gave your forehead a little shove with an open palm hand, “You are not good with our language.”

But she didn’t seem annoyed when she said this. Instead, she looked rather amused with the way her ears were raised high and her tail swinging behind her.

Below you, the viperwolves began moving away from the trees and further within the bushes. You watched them curiously, moving Neytiri’s hand from your forehead, “Are they dangerous? The—Nantang?”

“Most are.” Neytiri frowned, dropping her hand to her side. She then stood. “We leave them be. We do not kill unless—unless we have no choice.”

“Hmm, so no hunting them then?” You watched her thoughtfully. “So are you guys vegetarians?” She stared at you blankly. You pressed your lips into a thin line and reconsidered your words, “Do you not eat any meat?”

Understanding crossed her features as she nodded, “We do. Just not them.”

You nodded, crossing your legs together on the branch you were sitting on as you thought about this. After another pause, you took out your tablet from your bag to take down some notes—only for Neytiri to smack your arm and scowl, “No. None of that! We move.”

“Alright, alright.” You sighed, placing your tablet back into your bag. “But if I slip again, just let me fall. I deserve it for being so unathletic.”

Neytiri rolled her eyes and pushed forward. Reluctantly, you followed her.

At some point, you stopped wearing shoes in your avatar body.

After unlinking for the day, you headed over toward the tank room, only to find a certain Na’vi already there talking to Norm. Both noticed you and stopped whatever conversation they had upon seeing you enter.

“Ah, Reeds!” Norm cleared his throat as you approached Dr. Augustine’s avatar. “We were just finishing up here. We’ll be out of your way soon.”

You shrugged, tucking your tablet under your arm as you studied the controls of the avatar’s tank. “It’s not like you’re not allowed in this room. All I do is make sure the baby is healthy and leave. Doesn’t really take that long.” Eventually, you allowed yourself to acknowledge the Na’vi curtly. “Sully.”

“Dr. Reeds.” Jake nodded back with a tight, awkward smile.

“There haven’t been any big updates if that’s what you’re here for.” You said while staring at the avatar. It twitched every now and then as usual.

“We were just catching up.” Norm explained with a faint smile sent your way. “How’s the garden holding up?”

You shrugged, keeping your focus glued to your work, “Everything’s growing just fine. In a few weeks, we might be ready for harvesting. It’s actually fascinating how fast everything’s growing.” If you were in your avatar body, your tail would be wiggling from side to side at this revelation despite your monotone voice. “Neytiri’s been a big help too—the Na’vi way is a lot more effective compared to human techniques and efficiency. I’m actually starting to wonder what else I could learn from her…”’

It wasn’t intentional, but you were really beginning to become intrigued by the Na’vi and their culture. If you were going to be on Pandora—for what seemed like a long time—then you’d have to get accustomed to their ways at some point. Especially, when you didn’t have any particular interest in causing problems with them by doing everything wrong and very human-like. Attempting to do it their way was the only way to go and the easiest path so far.

Norm was grinning at you and you frowned, “What?”

“Nothing. I’ll leave you to it.” He then turned to Jake. “You stayin’ longer?”

Right, you had forgotten about him for a second. Briefly, with little interest, you glanced toward Jake who gave a short nod, “Yeah, I’ll stay for a little bit.” He then met your gaze, matching your guarded expression. “If that’s not a problem”

Norm watched the two of you, noticing the tension.

You stiffened. What the hell was this guy’s problem? Did he enjoy fighting with you, what was it? There was nothing stopping him from waiting until you were done so that he could have the room alone. But for some reason, he thought staying with you there was a good idea.

He must’ve been some kind of masochist. Yeah, had to be.

That, or he was keeping a close eye on you. After all, he did say that he didn’t trust you. Wouldn’t be a totally impossible thought.

So instead, you answered his question with one of your own, “Is it a problem for you?”

His tail swished behind him, “No. Not at all.”

He watched you. And you watched him.

You sniffed and returned your focus back on the avatar, “S’like I said. I won’t be long.”

Cautiously, Norm spoke, “I’ll leave the both of you to it then, yeah?” He walked passed to you, not before mumbling, “Play nice,” and he departed, leaving just you and Jake in the tank room.

The room was deathly quiet as you worked. You figured since Jake was going to be here watching over your every move, you’d ignore him and just do the work. Quick enough for you to leave and be out of his presence. That was all that mattered at the moment.

There was just nothing more to talk about with him. Besides the fetus, you couldn’t fathom what else there was to be discussed.

So far, you were actually doing a good job pretending he wasn’t there. Sure, he was a ten-foot-tall alien that practically towered over you and made you freeze every time something in the corner of your eye moved—it was him every time—the work in front of you was distracting enough. And so was observing the mysteriously pregnant and obviously brain-dead avatar.

It was weird, no, fascinating. How an avatar would end up pregnant without the user actively using it was beyond you. It was like one of those unsolved patient stories or records back on Earth. Only this time you didn’t have to worry much about necrophilia. At least you hoped you didn’t. You put that in your notes.

“I’m sorry about your mother.”

Despite your stubbornness, you froze. Unsure if what you heard was real or perhaps that you imagined it. A part of you hoped you imagined it. A part of you hoped that you had just gone crazy. Yes, that should’ve explained it. Some childish part of you just wanted someone to pity you for once. To say these words to you. And so you imagined them to cope. You imagined someone would for once see you passed the Dr. Reeds. Human. Demon.

It was only your imagination—

“And I’m sorry for how I acted before.” Jake continued on the other side of the tank. Your grip on your tablet tightened as you listened to him. He paused for a long moment as if carefully considering his words. “You’re in a difficult position and I didn’t make it easy on you. That’s on me.”

So much for ignoring him.

You forced yourself to look up at him, a frown on your lips, “What do you hope to gain from this? Why apologize now?”

He winced but didn’t back down. His resolve was much more brazen unlike yours which was still barely hanging on by a thread. Unlike you, he wasn’t exhausted keeping it up all the time. “A truce. Especially, since I will be visiting often.”

Now you were more annoyed than confused, “Why do you need to keep visiting? I already said there haven’t been any updates. Plus, Norm would be telling you whether or not you’re needed here—”

Jake shrugged, ears twitching, “Well if I’m hoping to be her father, I gotta see her progress for myself, don’t I?”

You stopped and watched him both warily and—maybe intrigued by this new piece of information. It wasn’t shocking, really. You kind of figured he would end up taking responsibility for this child. And you had no doubt Neytiri and—possibly Tsu’tey agreed to this considering how much all three of them seemed to care for Dr. Augustine. It wasn’t at all surprising that they decided to raise the child as if it were their own.

“And you’re willing to endure interactions with me for this child?” You chuckled humorlessly. “How brave of you.”

But Jake shook his head, “No, it’s not just about the baby. We have to work together on this. All this hostility—it has to end right here right now. We don’t have to like each other—but I will admit I wasn’t fair to you and I let the situation—your whole arrival get to me. A rookie mistake on my part. I thought—I was protecting my clan.”

For a moment you really considered him. Considered his words. Considered all of him. All of what you knew of Jake Sully so far.

And then you remember Norm’s words to you all those nights ago. When you were going to meet the Tsahik. You remember him saying that they were scared when you had arrived and you remembered understanding that. In the midst of your anger, you understood why they acted the way they did. Still to this day, a part of you knew they were justified in their hatred for the Sky People. Hell, you faced DeVoe and developed a certain dislike toward those people as well.

But it was still your anger. You would not take the blame for something that was out of your control. Something you had no part in. You would not apologize for being put in unfortunate circumstances.

Surprisingly, Jake seemed to read your mind as he said, “I’m not asking anything from you in return. Just a truce and an apology. You deserve that, at least.”

You pressed your lips into a thin line, clutching your tablet close to your chest, avoiding his gaze, his expectant look that waited for you to respond. Right now you really wished you were in your avatar body because you hated him looking down at you. You hated being small around him.

But your steeled spine made up for it at least. “We don’t have to like each other.”

Jake nodded, “We don’t.”

You sniffed, “Good. Because I don’t particularly like you still.”

“Yeah,” He sighed, massaging his face. “Sometimes I don’t either.”

Neytiri didn’t come the next day. Which wasn’t out of the ordinary. Some days she just didn’t come. She had a baby and a clan to worry about after all. You couldn’t exactly expect her to put all of that on hold for you and your little garden.

Plus, there wasn’t much to check in the garden anyway today. All you had to do was water it and make sure the sun was shining on the correct plants. So, you spent most of your time foraging in the forest—making less noise like Neytiri showed you—gathering new fruits and mushrooms to plant once your other ones were finished growing. Of course, you’ll already have the seeds from the newly grown plants but it was nice to have a few extras just in case.

When you finished your foraging and stored all the fruits and mushrooms in a safe place, you unlinked from your avatar and went to the tank room. Technically, you weren’t really required to check it every day once you got a better understanding of the tank. It was specifically created to hold a growing avatar, sure, but you didn’t know if that stretched to a pregnant avatar or not. So checking on it every day was an extra precaution.

You weren’t exactly well informed about how the whole avatar creation or technology worked. All you knew was the information that was given to you through your mother’s diary videos. Even then she really didn’t go into too much detail about it as she kept jumping from one point to another with haste and excitement.

So, during your visits to the tank room, you took notes. By now you are almost halfway through your journal the more you write. And it wasn’t even organized, just a bunch of random notes and thoughts on a piece of paper. With writing that looked like chicken scratch.

When you had nothing more to write or look at on the tablet, you examined what would be Dr. Augustine’s face on the avatar.

Norm came in at some point and you asked him, “What was she like? Dr. Augustine.”

He’d smile fondly at the avatar, his eyes glazed over in memory, “A brilliant woman who cared a lot for the Na’vi. You know she had a school? It’s what made her fall in love with it all. The children loved her.”

You raised your brows curiously when he said that, “You mention you’re around children for most of your day. Are you running her school now or something?”

“No.” He laughed as if the thought were impossible. “No, I just help out with the Omatikaya children whenever I can. Sure, I do teach them English but not on the level Grace did it. Not even close.” His eyes twinkled when he looked at you. “I think she would’ve liked you.”

You didn’t say anything to that. Instead, you offered, “Don’t sell yourself short, Spellman.”

“Same to you, Reeds.”

A few days went by and it was time to harvest your garden.

Neytiri came with Neteyam strapped to her chest. He was wide awake, staring around wide-eyed and curious as usual. Your chest felt just a bit lighter watching him, his innocence so very infectious. You had never been around many babies—no younger siblings and all. It was always you and your mother. And many other scientists. Come to think of it, you weren’t really surrounded by many children your age. If any at all.

You filled the second basket up with more fruits from your garden before glancing toward Neytiri who was picking the mushrooms and collecting them in her arms.

“How are they?” You called.

Neytiri looked back at you and nodded, “Very healthy. Enough to feed an entire village.”

You walked over to her and hummed, tail swinging slightly. “You think it’s too much?”

She shook her head and smiled contently, “No, you did really well with them. Do you plan to make more once you’ve harvested?”

“That’s the hope.” You nodded, crossing your arms. Neteyam’s large yellow eyes looked at you quietly as you moved around her to get a better look at the mushrooms. “Maybe I’ll dial it back with the next one. Technically, I didn’t plant these, all we did was save it from dying. Imagine if we let them die, all of this. What a waste it would’ve been.”

“I’ll help whenever you do,” Neytiri assured, which surprised you. She then grabbed your wrist. “Come. We should put this all away. We’ll travel through the trees again today.”

Intrigued by this, you nodded. After you brought all the freshly picked fruits, vegetables, and mushrooms to the scientists to put away, you followed Neytiri into the forest.

It was the same as last time. Both you and Neytiri quietly moved through the trees—it was a struggle still to climb again but thankfully Neytiri didn’t notice. Or if she did, she didn’t say anything. Just correct your body whenever you are doing something wrong. Whenever she did correct you though, it made the climb a little easier as you went.

You ran into one of those viperwolves but were able to get past them without any problems—again, thanks to Neytiri. But you did eventually end up running into a couple more creatures that seemed to be less dangerous.

One of them being those horse-like creatures.

“Pa’li,” Neytiri had called these creatures while petting one of them.

You watched them in awe and interest as she mounted it. She took her braid—queue—and placed it near the pa’li’s antenna. Your eyes widened when the tendrils between the queue and the antenna connected. Once it did, the creature calmed underneath Neytiri. Becoming familiar with her, as if they had known each other for a while. And maybe they did.

Neytiri smiled down at it, “We bond with them just as we bond with the rest of the life here. It is our way.”

A few other pa’li galloped toward you. One nudged past you but was quite skittish about it. At first, you didn’t approach it right away. Instead, you tried to remember how Neytiri did it. Slow in approach, which actually worked. The pa’li watched you, both warily and intrigued.

When you were close enough, you grabbed your queue and placed it near the antenna. Awed, you watched the tendrils slowly connect. A sudden unfamiliar feeling hit your body when your queue connected with the pa’li. The sensations were strange but you felt another emotion that wasn’t your own. The pa’li.

Scared but curious about you. Hesitant to get near you but also feeling the bond beginning through your queue. It was all so strange and unlike anything you’ve ever felt before.

A sudden shudder hit your spine just as the pa’li screeched and ran off, breaking the connection.

You grunted while Neytiri laughed, “Maybe next time, tanhi.”

There was a small pout on your lips, a quiet part of you missing the strange and new connection, “Guess I’m just not an animal person.”

“You will try again soon.” She assured as she slid off her pa’li with Neteyam babbling against her chest. “But it will not be today. I must leave for a hunt soon. Another day, perhaps, I will teach you.”

You were surprised at this, “Really? Teaching a Sky Person, huh? Does that mess with you morally or…?”

Neytiri frowned, “Teaching you will help you survive. Not me.” She patted the snout of the pa’li before watching it gallop away with his group. “It is not the first time I have taught a Sky Person our way.”

It took you a moment to realize what she meant, “You taught Sully, didn’t you?”

She did not answer this of course, but you had a feeling you already knew it without her having to say it. “Do you want to learn or not?”

Your tail swished, Neytiri noticed. “I’d like that. Besides, you’re a pretty good teacher as far as I can tell. I don’t think I’d want anyone else.” There was probably no one else who would even offer to teach you like Neytiri did. So, this was the kind of offer you couldn’t refuse.

Neytiri nodded, the beginnings of a smile reaching her lips. For a moment you admired her smile.

And then the next you envied it.

Jake was in the tank room on another day. You entered as usual in human form. A week had passed since your agreed-upon ‘truce’ and you were slowly growing accustomed to his presence the best way you could. Most days, he wasn’t always there. Those were the days when you were relieved and felt like you could relax a bit.

But on the days he was there, you took to ignoring him like you originally planned. And thankfully, he didn’t seem bothered by that. Sometimes he’d ask questions here and there about the fetus, but other than that, the two of you were in your own little worlds.

And you were fine with this. Perhaps Jake had the right idea about this little truce. It certainly made things easier. You were still tense around him of course—mostly because you felt like he was watching you whenever he thought you weren’t looking—but it was manageable.

Upon observing the avatar, you noticed the belly bump becoming just a little more visible as time went by—which wasn’t much time at all. You began to wonder about the differences between Na’vi pregnancy to human pregnancy.

Currently, you are going through past video logs of Grace Augustine to get some idea of how her avatar came to be pregnant.

Once more you were reminded that you weren’t alone as Jake spoke from the other side of the room, “Any theories?”

You glanced over your shoulder to see that he was watching you work with an intense look—or maybe his face was naturally like that.

A beat went by before you considered responding to his question, “Besides divine intervention? No, not really.” You turned back to the logs and made a face when Norm started showing up more in her videos. You turned back to Jake who was still watching you, “Norm and Grace didn’t—”

“No, no, they didn’t.” Jake quickly said, looking just as uncomfortable as you felt asking. “God, at least I hope they didn’t—I wasn’t always around them when linked up—he was always with Trudy actually—you know what, I rather not think about it.”

You hummed, “It was worth a shot asking.” After shutting and placing your tablet down on the table you sat at, you sunk further into your chair as you began mumbling to yourself. “Looks like I might as well have to stick with your Eywa impregnating her. Virgin Mary and all.”

“Right.”

Another silence settled between you two. You wrote down in your notes while absentmindedly listening to Jake’s quiet breaths further behind you, too acutely aware of his presence.

“About what I said about not trusting you…” Jake started and you refrained from rolling your eyes at the interruption of your note-taking and thoughts. “I’m not here to monitor you or anything and I didn’t mean—”

“Sure you did.” You say simply, glancing back at him with an impassive expression. “No point in going back on it now.”

“I was reckless with my words—”

“Reckless words have some truth to them.” You shrugged and turned back to your notes. “If it helps, I don’t trust you either, Sully.”

“Neytiri does.” That made you pause. That made you look back at him in both defense and confusion, trying to figure out just what he was trying to get at here. Jake wore a look of contemplation as if he were trying to figure something out himself, “She was the first one to agree to you watching over Grace’s kid. She fought Tsu’tey on it when usually she’d be on his side whenever it came to humans. That means something to me.”

You considered his words. Truth be told, you didn’t know why Neytiri agreed to it. Frankly, it was going to happen either way—but having Neytiri unexpectedtly on board with the plan wasn’t something any of you saw coming. You still didn’t necessarily know how to feel about that yet.

But it seemed Jake did.

Instead of addressing it, you clicked your pen close, “I’ll send updates through Norm if anything changes. Maybe through Neytiri too whenever she makes her rounds over here.”

After a pause, Jake nodded, “Copy that.” Surprisingly—and quite relieving—he began to take his leave. Which meant that the conversation was now done, thankfully. Before he left the room, he turned back to you with a twitch of his tail, “And thank you, Doc.”

“Just doing my job, Sully.” You shrugged, closing your notebook. “It’s about time, right?”

It meant something. It had to. Even if he wasn’t sure if he believed in all this Eywa stuff, he believed in Neytiri. He respected Mo’at.

They saw something in you that he clearly could not see just yet. Perhaps it was now time he had to open his eyes.

Perhaps it was time for Jake to finally see.

hiii! wow, sorry about the wait! my schedule got so crazy the past couple of weeks, i barely had a moment to actually sit down and write this. but finally, here is chapter five!

i know a lot of you were worried i dropped this but don't worry, i'm still here! just barely surviving life lol.

anyways, looks like jake and reeds are finding each other at least tolerable now...

(i'm not adding anymore people anymore!)

taglist: @doggyteam2028 @bigbootahjudy @innercreationflower @n7cje @celi-xxmoon @readerofallthingss @sillyblues @squirtlebob @saturnhas82moons @1mawh0re @aprosiacperson @loserwithnofriends @garfieldsladybird

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pagannatural · 2 months

Text

2.07 The Usual Suspects

-Sam being interrogated about Dean is so so good because we get to see Sam being told that his brother is a scumbag criminal and the way he reacts by rolling his eyes like he’s heard this before. It’s almost like seeing a teenage version of Sam. The detective keeps telling him to throw Dean under the bus and the whole time he’s just giving attitude and plotting how to help Dean and work the case. He keeps looking out the window. Some of his reactions are raw and some are fake and some are both and his mind is running through his options assessing what to do and how to get out of this.

When confronted with the cliff notes on his and Dean’s life, Sam runs the gamut of emotion from sad and grief-stricken about Jessica to defending Dean and acting all scandalized to being a smartass, to whatever the hell this is when she says “it’s not your fault he’s your brother, we can’t pick our family”

The double meaning here. The not meeting her eyes, the tension on his face, the disdain. It’s giving Bitch don’t I fucking know it, yet I would choose him a thousand times and every time I would be a little bit miserable. “It’s not your fault he’s your brother, we can’t pick our [soul mates]” is probably what God tells him in his most comforting dreams.

-So the detective’s theory is what? That after a shared sordid serial killer childhood Sam escaped the life and then Dean murdered Sam’s girlfriend in a house fire to lure him back in and make him his crime wife?

Because I mean yeah I would read that AU. That fits their vibe pretty nicely.

-She says “Dean’s a bad guy….his life is over, yours doesn’t have to be” and Sam looks at her like that’s the dumbest thing he has ever heard.

She doesn’t know that they become sickly and depressed when they’re apart like a pair of bonded sewer kittens.

When she tells him he can get on with his life and Dean’s as good as gone you can almost see him tuning her out and calculating how to lie about this.

-Sam starts on his cover story, using his trademark Sweet-Innocent face. He relies on his charms and on appearing helpless to manipulate people into doing what he wants. He would’ve learned to do this when he was a child as a survival skill, and I can just imagine how well this complemented Dean’s tough but earnest seduction thing. Acting sweet and helpless when you’re actually savvy and resourceful is a trope commonly used in female characters. These traits (innocence, sweetness, feigned helplessness) are associated with women gaining/utilizing agency in the ways available to them.

Because narratively, Sam is the girl. It’s stuff like this, plus the way he’s depicted as Dean’s tempting damsel in distress in other episodes. It increases the sexual tension between Sam and Dean when they rely on these archetypes because we know what it means when two leads are masculine and feminine, when they need each other and the plot hinges on their conflict. It means they’re the love interests.

-Dean makes a joke about Sam being Scully, and Sam’s like I’m not Scully you’re Scully, and Dean says “No I’m Mulder. You’re a red headed woman.” Really spelling it out.

Dean is smirking and making prolonged eye contact and just— he’s flirting. There’s a Bruce Springsteen song titled “Red Headed Woman” about how “it takes a red headed woman to get a dirty job done.” I have no idea if this is what Dean’s referencing or if it’s just a Scully reference but it’s a very specific thing to say and Sam is brunette. The song is very suggestive.

-Dean HATES waiting around while Sam works. Within seconds he becomes insufferable and has to leave to go do something, flirting with Sam again on his way out.

-“Sam’s story matches Dean’s to the last detail” they didn’t even SEE each other before talking to police! They’re just so connected that they tell the same exact story. Then they both work on the case in their separate interrogation rooms using different methods and arrive at the same conclusion at the same time. They also make the same joke about their public defender.

-I keep seeing this post about who knew Dean better, Sam or Castiel, and I just want to point out that these two are so in sync they can essentially read each others minds.

-We have an outsider perspective on their lives and relationship a few times this episode, and the detectives comment more than once on how weirdly connected the brothers are. Like, Dean communicates to Sam via movie reference to escape and Sam is already all over that, he’s been assessing how to climb out the window since his first scene.

-Dean tells the detective to go to Sam so that Sam can save her life, giving her their info on “how we find each other when we’re separated.” That’s very practical. It’s also true that when they aren’t together they are obsessed with finding each other and making sure they know exactly where the other is at all times. They must have felt so untethered when Sam was at Stanford. I’m imagining Sam going on a little trip over spring break and feeling like he’s forgetting something really important and starting to panic only to realize it’s just that Dean won’t know where he is.

#samdean #supernatural #spn meta #sam and dean #wincest #spn 2x07

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1-800-c3dr1c · 8 months

Note

Hi, I saw that you have open requests. could you write a story about Neuvilette and his partner where Neuvilette learns that the traveler told his partner that he is a dragon. but the reader had something to do, so she would leave Fontaine for a few days. on the other hand, Neuvilette would think that this is why she does not want to see him, because she has been hiding from him until now, and of course because of this there would be a hell of a storm in Fontain. i like angst but with a happy ending. Thank you I love you. 🥺👉👈

LONELINESS. neuvilette angst to fluff oneshot. female reader. <3 SPOILERS FOR THE 4.1 ARCHON QUEST. DO PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

requests are: open! please look at the pinned post for characters i will write for. <3 let me know if you’d like to be in my tag list for whenever i post anything related to neuvilette under this post as well, or in my inbox!

OH MY GOD THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR REQUESTING NEUVILETTE, I LITERALLY LOVE THIS MAN AND I HOPE THAT YOU LIKE THIS!! <3

“he’s a dragon.” were most certainly not the first words you’d expected the traveler to utter when you two met after they had come back from the fortress of meropide. you had stared at them, baffled, asked them to repeat what they had told you despite not even hearing yourself speak. and they did.

“he’s a dragon.” and that’s when it clicked. your partner, the iudex of fontaine, was the hydro dragon. how had you not realized this sooner? you had caught little bits of his grief even when he never explicitly stated it, and when you did it just so happened to rain. but you didn’t want to believe it at first.

“you’re lying.” you didn’t even hear yourself contradicting them, the words just sputtered out absently, as if you had no idea what you were doing. which you didn’t.

“i’m sorry,” the traveler just shook their head, knowing they couldn’t exactly get you to see through your own fantasies of not recognizing the truth. they knew you’d come to your senses soon, but you needed to be left alone.

and left alone you had been. they had walked away, leaving you to stare after them, attempting to collect your thoughts.

your partner was the hydro dragon. it was such an unfathomable thought, but the more you thought about it, the more likely it was. and yet, time was cruel.

you could not ask him about it now, no. you had a mission outside of fontaine, and you knew you’d be gone for a few days. you had been planing to tell neuvilette this, but you had never gotten a chance. today was your last day in fontaine, and you would leave in two hours.

you knew that he would not be back in less than two hours. despite that, you waited until the very last moment for him to come home, for you to be able to tell him what you knew.

but you simply wouldn’t, or rather, couldn’t. when the time came, you simply took your bag, walked off, and didn’t look back.

neuvilette had thought differently. he had chosen to take a few days off of work after the traveler had told him they had accidentally let it slip to his partner that he was the hydro dragon. ever since then, he hadn’t even seen her. grief-stricken and thinking that she hated him with her entire being for hiding such a big secret, it was constantly raining in fontaine. people were no longer walking the streets, and fontaine was neatly flooded in itself.

the traveler had tried to calm him down, but it had been no use. he actually started crying. not just the feeling of grief, but actually tears rolled down his cheeks. hence why, he stayed in his office all day, allowing little to nobody in except for the traveler and a few select melusines.

“she hates me,” he murmured to himself, the thought having been running through his head for many days now. ever since she left, that’s all that has been on the poor iudex’s mind. “she hates me.” he repeated, finding that it may just end up being the truth, no matter how much he didn’t want to believe it.

until you had walked into his office, startled to see that his face was tear-stained. you quickly walked over to him, but he hadn’t even registered that you had walked in yet.

“neuvilette?” you whispered his name, standing right beside him. this shocked him out of his thoughts, and he turned to you.

“y/n.” he spoke your name, trying to clear his throat. “where.. did you go?” he sounded so quiet, so hurt.

“i’m sorry. i had to do something outside of fontaine, love. but i’m back now.” you told him softly.

love. that nickname instantly brightened his mood, before it dampened again. you don’t hate me, right? because.. because i’m.. the hydro dragon.” the last two words you could barely hear, but you understood.

“so that’s why it’s been raining so much. is that what you thought? oh, neuvilette.. i could never hate you.” you kissed his cheek, and he pulled you close, hiding his face in your shoulder.

“thank you. for not hating me. i love you so much.” he murmured. “so, so much.”

#genshin imagines #genshin fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #genshin spoilers #genshin x reader #genshin angst #genshin impact #genshin fanfic #genshin impact angst #genshin impact imagine #genshin impact neuvilette #x reader #neuvilette angst #neuvilette fluff #neuvilette genshin #neuvilette x you #neuvilette x y/n #neuvilette x reader

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reve-writes · 1 year

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—good luck; leon kennedy.

ʚ leon kennedy x reader. | resident evil | 0,8k words. ʚ leon visits you at the hospital & you kiss for the first time. ʚ friends-to-lovers. kissing. profanity. pre-re4. ʚ a/n idk why i keep writing awkward first kisses fluff fics someone help i rewrote this twice and still don't quite love it, but here it is.

It has been almost a week.

You've been spending your days within these sickeningly white and bright room, accompanied by the constant hum of air conditioner. You had a visit from your supervisor, asking for mission reports. Outside of your work, you don't have a lot of friends anyway—and the ones you have are either busy in some part of the world somewhere combating bio-terrorism or knee-deep buried in training and paperwork.

Your eyes dart to the door when you hear knocking. Your voice is hoarse when you call out, “Come in.”

It's Leon. He throws a small smile at you when he walks in.

“One of these days—” He sighs, letting the door click shut gently behind him and makes his way towards your bed, plopping onto the chair by your bedside. “—you'll come home in a body bag.”

“Wanna bet on it?”

He stares at you pointedly, taking off his wool-lined leather jacket and hanging it over the back of the chair. “Don't even.”

Your eyes fall fall onto the lines of his body. That body-tight navy shirt really accentuates the muscles that he's built up, short-sleeves putting his arms on display. You're shameless in your staring. You have to remind yourself that he's just a friend—one that you've shared most of the bad with: the blood-smeared bodies, tear-streaked faces, grief-stricken memories, and nightmare-riddled sleeps.

“I heard that you're leaving for Spain.” You distract yourself by bringing up a topic of conversation. “When is that?”

He checks his black watch briefly. “In six hours or so.”

“And you decided to spend those six hours with me? I'm honoured, Kennedy.”

“Of course.” He shrugs. “Gotta make sure you have one last good look of me before I go.”

“I appreciate it.”

“How are you feeling?”

You feel his eyes on you, assessing your injury. Leon has always had an aptitude for observation. He sees the angry purple-and-blue bruises on your neck, noticed the way you wince slightly whenever you speak a little louder. Plus, the sling for your arm is one of the first things he notices when he sees you.

“Like shit.”

“I bet you do.”

“Getting slapped around by a goddamn B.O.W does that.”

“Tell me about it.” He adds a small chuckle. “I had a talk with your mission partner before coming here.”

“Oh, no. What did you do to poor, poor Jonas?” Your eyes narrow, looking at him in an accusatory manner. “You know that this isn't his fault.”

“He left you. Just fucking ran off. What do you mean it isn't his fault?” He argues.

You sigh. “He's new, Leon. Besides, I was the one who told him to run.”

“Don't pull that self-sacrificing shit.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on the edge of your hospital bed. “I can't have you dying on me.”

“You're the one running off to god-knows-where,” you retort. “I can't have you dying on me.”

“I won't.” He gives a small lop-sided grin. “Just because you asked.”

You chuckle—or at least try to—before you wince from a sharp throb in your chest. Leon immediately stands up, his chair sliding back with a screech. He hovers over you, one hand on your shoulder and the other feeling the wall for the emergency call button.

“You okay? What's wrong?”

You nod, taking his gloved hand in yours and away from the call button. “I'm fine, you worrywart.”

When you look up to meet his eyes, suddenly the proximity between the two of you is put into perspective. His eyes—brilliant blue, gem-like—are unblinking as they are fixated on yours. You can almost feel his breath.

“We shouldn't —” you say, but your eyelashes flutter. Your heart's pounding in your chest, loud and adamant, repeatedly calling his name—the way it always does for the longest time.

His eyelids droop as he leans forward slightly. “We really shouldn't.”

“Yeah. This is a bad idea.”

“You don't think we should kiss?”

You can feel your lips brushing against his when he speaks. Featherlight grazes call for goosebumps to raise on your skin. “Well, bad ideas can lead to good outcomes someti—”

Your words are muffled, swallowed by him as his lips close over yours. You've daydreamed about this more times than you care to admit, but to actually experience it? Are you hallucinating from the meds?

“Stop thinking.” Leon huffs, biting your lower lip gently. “Just—”

Whatever he's planning to say next is lost as you once again press your lips onto his. It's a gentle kiss—he treats you as if you're made of glass, and at this point, you feel like you may actually break from your heart swelling.

Your hand reaches out to touch his hair, and you feel a sharp tug from your IV. The IV stand nearly topples over, but Leon pulls back. His reflexes are quick enough to keep the stupid metal pole from falling over.

You stare at each other—

and burst out into laughter.

“A hell of a good luck kiss,” he says, settling back down to the chair.

You bite back your smile. “There's a lot more where that came from.”

“Get better soon and we'll find out.”

[ ]

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #—ki writes 🍯

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lassieposting · 3 months

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Absolutely obsessed with the ecosystem and interpersonal political implications going on in Poppy Playtime right now, like.

What we have in the Playtime Co factory is a society made up of creatures who were all, at one point, human. And while it's stated that the experiments have varying levels of intelligence and ability to recall their former lives, we know that a lot of them, if not all of them, retained at least some of their humanity post-transformation. For example:

Most of the experiments are angry, resentful and vengeful towards Playtime Co - they understand they have been wronged, and they are capable of holding grudges.

Poppy and the Prototype seem to have the same end goals (putting a stop to the experiments and saving the innocents being used in them), but diametrically opposing views on how to go about achieving them (the Prototype is a gritty realist who knows no war was ever won without bloodshed and is willing to cause collateral damage in the name of his cause, where Poppy is far more idealistic, moderate and morally opposed to/upset by the deaths of the Playtime Co employees). This dispute has escalated far enough that the Prototype apparently shut Poppy away before the Hour of Joy could begin, and Poppy now wants the Prototype dead for what she sees as a crime equal in atrocity to Playtime Co's - they are able to understand ideologies, have ideological disagreements, and strategise against each other.

Huggy Wuggy, who seems to be only slightly more intelligent than a predatory animal, can still write, and uses the ability to try to guide fleeing prey in the wrong direction - that suggests he uses the vents to hunt on a regular basis, and he's clever enough to use basic deception.

On the subject of Huggy Wuggy, when he escapes the facility, his first instinct is to go home.

There are also numerous examples of the experiments being able to form and maintain social bonds, and work together:

Mommy Long-Legs is described as "nurturing" and "motherly" towards the other experiments, as well as the children. She's placed in the Game Station precisely because her desire to protect and care for the children outweighs her hatred for her captors: she won't act aggressively in front of them.

DogDay says that he's "the last of the Smiling Critters", implying that the Playcare originally had a full complement of Bigger Bodies Critters and that they were all able to coexist peacefully.

Kissy Missy and Poppy clearly have a friendship, with Poppy willing to charge into unknown danger to help her friend.

Miss Delight originally calls the other teachers her sisters, and she's horrified and grief-stricken by her own actions when she turns on them.

Miss Delight and CatNap form a non-aggression pact that seems to include some kind of respect for territorial boundaries, as Ollie claims that CatNap usually avoids the school. That's Miss Delight's turf, and he clearly respects her space, even though it technically falls inside his own territory.

The Prototype - who's usually kept in isolation and under surveillance precisely because he's known to be violent - was on multiple occasions set loose in a room with at least CatNap (and potentially other experiments) without bloodshed. He's even confirmed to have patiently tolerated CatNap lowkey imprinting on him and following him around like a duckling.

The Prototype also opts to save Theo Grambell's life, knowing damn well that to do so means sacrificing his shot at freedom. There is no reason for him to do this other than caring for Theo.

Again, DogDay is the last of the Smiling Critters. Despite the fact that there would have been six of them, and one of CatNap. Working together, they should have been able to overpower him easily, and the fact that they couldn't makes me think that either a) there was a big confrontation in which CatNap either arrived with or was able to call out for backup or b) CatNap became an infinitely more capable strategist and picked them off quietly one at a time, using skills he'd have to have learned from someone.

Anyway. My point here: these were originally people, with all the associated moral hangups and emotional messiness, and they retained a lot of their humanity post-transformation. And they were on the same side, to begin with. During the Hour of Joy, they all turn on the workers together.

But after that? The complete breakdown of that unity and those complex social relations into an essentially animal ecosystem, and the psychological impact on the surviving experiments, fascinates me.

By the time the game starts, the experiments have run out of food, and they've begun turning on each other out of desperation. The Bigger Bodies monsters, previously social and cooperative, have been forced into direct competition for food, and as a result they've largely become solitary apex predators with fiercely-defended territories, where they can pick off smaller, weaker experiments at will. There's some evidence of cooperation and coexistence between predators - Bunzo Bunny and the Mini-Huggies survive ten years in Mommy Long-Legs' territory, possibly filling the scavenger niche and surviving off her leftovers, and Miss Delight is tolerated in CatNap's - but the small toys we see scattered bloodily all across the factory (and the small Bunzo we see picked off by CatNap as it tries to cross a room) show that there's a whole category of experiments whose lives would've become all about hiding, and sneaking, and being where the Bigger Bodies critters aren't. The predators, driven to the edge of starvation, have had to surrender a lot of the human values and morals they had before. The prey have essentially become rodents - they're in danger every second they're not safely hidden away somewhere.

And yet!

The way they've reacted to their trauma is still so human.

Like. Take the difference between CatNap and Mommy Long-Legs.

Mommy and CatNap - Marie and Theo - have a very similar start in life. Both were children when they were experimented on and transferred into their mascot bodies. Both were orphans, and both are described as not fitting in or being particularly happy in the Playcare - Marie was bullied, and Theo is described as "odd" and "antisocial with other children".

But post-transformation, it seems Marie was largely left to, essentially, raise herself. We know that she was aggressively hostile towards staff, and gentle and nurturing towards orphans and other experiments, but we have no suggestion that anyone was caring or parental towards her. Like most of the experiments, she has a digestive tract and would have needed to eat, so she must have had a "keeper" of some kind, but she doesn't seem to have had any attachment to anyone who could serve as a parental substitute and guide her into adulthood.

When we meet her as Mommy Long-Legs, she would be a young adult - she's grown up in her mascot body. But even acknowledging that she's been driven mad by fear and isolation, her emotional development shows several damage markers you'd expect from a child so utterly deprived of love and care and guidance. She's emotionally unstable and prone to throwing extreme tantrums over small and arbitrary inciting factors, like "cheating" at a rigged game - there's very limited ability or desire to moderate or regulate her emotions. She's erratic, has poor impulse control, and when she's angry she lashes out violently at whoever is most convenient - like Bunzo - even though it's someone else - the player - that she's actually mad at. She does try to hide her disappointment at our continued existence behind her bubblegum Mommy persona, but she never quite learned to convincingly mask her emotions the way adults can. Nor has she mastered the art of making and executing a plan - when she attacks, it's all aggression - the single-minded grab-and-smash of an angry, thwarted child. Even Huggy, limited though his intelligence is, stalks the player and tries to chase them into a kill zone. But Mommy relies solely on her stretch ability - automatic, instinctive - and her sheer rage to make her the GameStation's apex predator. Left to raise herself, she never learned a lot of adult skills or survival strategies, and it's become a fatal flaw - she knows her territory, she knows where there would be machinery to look out for, but she's so single-mindedly focused on punishing the player that she completely overlooks her own safety.

Contrast: CatNap.

CatNap is also a young adult when we meet him, and if he'd also been left alone to raise himself, he'd probably have a lot of the same developmental stunting. But he doesn't, and that's interesting.

Now, let's take a very quick detour to look at the behaviour we've seen, not from CatNap, but from the Prototype. We know he's fiercely intelligent, calculating, and a tactical thinker with a talent for using his environment and anything in it (up to and including the player - he makes use of Mommy after we kill her, even though he's the facility's super predator and could easily have done it himself) to his advantage. We know he's stealthy - from how close to us he is at the close of each chapter, he's likely been tailing us from the moment we entered the factory, keeping his distance and watching us to see what we'll do and how he can make use of our actions. Some of his behaviours are strongly reminiscent of a soldier in action - I have a theory here that whoever became the Prototype had, at some point in his previous life, been a military man.

And now look at CatNap. Who has he become?

An intelligent, calculating stealth predator who uses his environment and any weaponizable thing he can get his claws on to take out his prey with minimal risk to himself. He's capable of adult logic and reasoning skills - i.e. the teachers will get hungry and harm the surviving children, so locking them in the school to fight to the death removes all but one threat, who can then be negotiated with once the children have been moved to safety. He's able to form and maintain alliances and agreements. He's even able to identify that the player is either a) not a threat to him or b) proving useful to the Prototype, and overlook his own hunger to offer them mercy: leave Playcare, or I'm coming for you.

In other words, he's grown up a lot like the Prototype.

And there's a reason for that! We know from the interdepartmental report on CatNap that for some reason, after his transformation procedure, he was allowed to socialise with the Prototype - an experiment who's considered so dangerous usually kept on lockdown in isolation under constant surveillance. And the report notes that CatNap "follows [the Prototype] around like a lost puppy" and that the Prototype "doesn't seem to mind".

Which, on its own, could just mean that the Prototype recognised Theo for what he was - a traumatized, hurting, confused little boy - and, aware that CatNap was not a threat, opted for tolerance over violence. But when you consider CatNap's history with the Prototype, I don't think that's it. Theo befriended the Prototype, or vice versa, long before Theo ever became CatNap. He was mortally injured trying to help the Prototype escape, and the Prototype gave up that shot at freedom to get Theo medical attention. They are close, and the fact that CatNap, a decade later, has assumed so many of the Prototype's traits and skills implies that they remained close for a good long while after the Hour of Joy.

Theo, aged 7, is clinging to the one person he feels safe with and protected by after a major trauma. If he follows the Prototype everywhere, he won't be left alone with the scientists. If he's not left alone with the scientists, they can't hurt him anymore. And the Prototype lets him, reinforcing the idea that you're safe with me. It's not unlikely that he feels responsible for CatNap's fate - if he hadn't taken Theo to the Playtime counselors for medical attention, the boy would have peacefully died, and wouldn't be living a nightmare - and he's stepped up to parent CatNap.

And you can see echoes of that ongoing bond in how CatNap behaves a decade later. Who taught him to hunt? The Prototype. Who taught him strategy and tactical thinking? The Prototype. Who gave him the survival skills he needed to make his way to the top of the food chain and stay there? The Prototype.

Unlike Marie, Theo had someone to protect him. Someone to play with and care for him. Someone to hunt for and feed him once the bodies began to run out, at least until he was fully capable of catching, killing and pulling apart his own prey. Someone to socialise with. And he's better adjusted - for a given value of "better adjusted", because like, nobody in this factory is even remotely okay - as a result.

And that's still so human. Despite the absolute horror-show feral animal situation they're all living in.

Just? idk man i have a lot of feelings

#smiling critters #poppy playtime headcanons #poppy playtime #vidya gaems #poppy playtime meta #experiment 1006 #the prototype #catnap #theodore grambell #mommy long legs #anyway: baby catnap shrinking his huge body down so he can hide from another monster behind the prototype's legs #baby catnap practicing his hunting skills on the prototype the way lion cubs pounce on adult lions #baby catnap curling up very small beside this monstrosity of wires and metal and actually feeling SAFE

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fromgoy2joy · 20 days

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After a tizzy of a freshman year of college as a jew-ish student, I'm packing boxes for uHaul.

My target-bought menorah went into the first box, along with all ten of my hillel sweatshirts. Pictures I had printed out from Purim are taken down, and neatly put into an envelope to be hung up later. My many books on Jewish culture and religion went into the second one. And so on, and so forth. The hamsa I lost three months ago was under my mini fridge.

As I put away each Jewish item, intermingled with my sweater collection and stuffed animals, I remember both the joy and grief of this year. A hostage necklace goes hand in hand with my Magen David in my jewelry box. A newspaper on a local antisemitic hate crime finds it place next to the belated "Hanukkah gift" my friend got for me in April. It's been so much to carry- both the joy of finding home along with the tangible feeling of uncertainty, fear, and pain.

And finally, I am on the fifth box. In the pocket of two separate winter coats, I found posters of two people-

one, the childhood best friend of a man I know, currently a captive in Gaza. I'd been given that picture, personally, by my friend who kept on referring to this hostage in the past tense. Then, he would continually correct himself, looking even more stricken as he made that mistake of letting what he's resigned to slip out. And I can't imagine- I can't. If the boys I played in the summer streams with were currently being tortured by my worst enemies. If I had no idea if the friend that sent me funny texts and assurances after a bad day was alive or not. The other, Hind Rajab, a Palestinian child killed in the crossfires of war. I found that poster blown off from a fence. It was one out of around sixty so I felt comfortable taking it home with me, just to look at her and remember. Her little face would've blended right in with the kids I helped out with every Monday for the last two semesters. Who could've cried on her last day of kindergarten, because she wouldn't see her teachers again, just like how all the six-year-olds clung to me when they realized it was my last day. In that moment, I laughed, pushing their hands off of me gently because I had to leave for Pesach celebrations. But at the same time, I thought of her and how she didn't get to see Eid.

When I come back to campus in September, with those boxes waiting in my new dorm for me, I will open up that box and see their faces. And I'll feel that sorrow as deeply as I feel it now and the moment I first learnt their stories. But I hope my friend's near-brother will be back home. And I hope - I hope to everything- that Palestinian children just like Hind will be able to go back home, get the help they need, and spend the rest of their childhoods crying over their teacher assistants leaving for summer breaks.

And when I see them in September, I'll think "We've done it. I'm sorry it took so long, I'm sorry it took this pain and nothing ever deserved to happen to you. But we did it."

#jumblr #jewish #jewblr #jewish convert #jewish tumblr #jewish conversion #fromgoy2joy thoughts #am israel chai #am yisroel chai #jewishness #jewish stuff #judaism #jew

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cosmictheo · 1 year

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𝐈 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔, 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 | 𝐣𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

— summary: joel helps you through a emotional breakdown after henry and sam's death. — pairing: joel miller x female!reader — word count: 2k — warnings: angst, death mentions, suicide mentions, mental breakdown, crying fit, some backstory from reader's past, joel being the most comforting best boyfriend ever, ellie being the angel she is. just a little comfort for those who need it because it is deserved<3

joel’s playlist i made for inspo

writer’s note: english is not my mother tongue, so please forgive me if there is a grammatical error. hope you like it!

“Henry, take it easy, look at me.”

Joel's voice barely managed to be heard over the constant ringing that had risen in your ears, mixed with the rumbling of your heart thundering in your ears.

“'Gimme the gun, Henry.”

“W—what did I do?” Henry's voice trembled and you closed your eyes tightly just after he took the gun to his head.

“Henry—”

All you heard next was the gunshot and the faint whimper of Ellie, whom you had pulled to your chest, shielding her with your body in case Henry wanted to have shot you in your direction, blinded by anger and grief.

Then you heard footsteps approaching rapidly. Joel. “Ellie. Are you okay?”

He comforted Ellie, speaking to her in a rather soft tone, resting his hands on her shoulders and stepping in front of her so that it wasn't possible for her to see Henry's body bleeding on the ground, though the damage had already been done, for she had seen firsthand how he had shot himself. The girl just nodded her head weakly and Joel then helped her to her feet, guiding her out of the room with slow steps, as she was still in shock.

And then he came back to you, naturally.

He called your name in a soft tone, crouching down in front of you, his hands sought your cheeks, cradling them and guiding your head in his direction, noticing how your eyes had dragged from Henry's body to his little brother in front of him, a few steps away. Your heart stopped for a few moments, noticing the orange paint still around his eyes, but then all you saw was Joel's anxious look as he turned your chin toward him very gently.

“Oh, baby girl—” Soft, frightened honey eyes searched yours, “Look at me, baby. I'm here, I've got you.”

You let out a sob against his chest as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you to him, blocking your view of the two bodies in the room.

“I'm so— so tired of this.” You blubbered out, quivering through sobs.

Joel clenched his jaw, blinking a couple of times so as to keep tears from coming from his eyes as he heard your broken sobs. And of course it was a difficult situation, you never thought it would end like this for Henry and Sam, you were supposed to help them.

But he knew exactly why it affected you so much. During the outbreak you had lost your sister, you had told him about her and how she had been taken from you by the infection, not a couple of hours had passed and she had already been bitten. You had to shoot her yourself, because who else would do it? You never forgave yourself for her death and you never would, he knew that.

And watching all this happen in front of your eyes of course had been like re-experiencing the most traumatic and terrifying day of your entire life.

“I know, baby. I know.” He whispered reassuringly against the side of your head, stroking your hair with one hand and with the other, tracing non-existent lines and shapes on your lower back. He placed a kiss on your the line of your forehead before speaking again, “Can you walk for me? We have to get out of here, okay?”

But you didn't respond, you simply broke in his arms and Joel felt his chest tighten at the sight of you in that vulnerable state. Rarely had he seen you like this, rarely had he seen you cry, much less in such a grief-stricken way.

So he simply held you, hugging you tightly, as if you were somehow going to disappear at any moment. He gave you a couple of minutes to unwind and then sighed shakily, fingers combing your hair.

“I'm gonna' to take you in my arms, okay?” he murmured against your ear, taking your arms to wrap around his neck, “hold on tight and just look at me, baby. Just me.” Your gaze crawled up to his face, finally meeting his, bright with concern and softness for you, his rough fingers caressed your cheekbone, “There you are, you just keep those pretty eyes on me, okay?”

“O–okay.” You replied in your broken voice, nodding weakly.

“That's my girl.” He complimented you tenderly, leaning in a little so he could lay an affectionate kiss on your forehead, trying to reassure you in every way he could. “You're doing so good.”

Your arms went around his shoulders and you hid your face against his neck as he lifted you into his arms, heading for the room door, where outside Ellie was still waiting for you, in complete silence.

She turned to you when she heard Joel leave the room and her face transformed to one of concern when she saw your condition. You had never shown yourself to be so emotional in front of her, not as much as Joel of course, at least you joked with her sometimes, were constantly concerned for her well being and even held her hand when you were in very dangerous situations. Ellie looked up to you and seeing you fall apart like that showed her that you were human and you were so strong.

She followed Joel silently as he exited the building with you in his arms, glancing at you from time to time with concern, although your sobs were over once you were outside.

Ellie gave you two a moment alone, giving you space as she stood a few feet away from you, sitting on a small concrete pillar.

Joel set you down on the ground, but his arms never left you, his hands running up your shoulders, caressing you affectionately, until they reached your face, his thumbs drying your wet cheeks. He made a pitiful little grimace as he met your bloodshot eyes, holding back a dark, lost gaze.

He wasn't used to seeing you so dull and detached from reality, but he did what he did best to bring you back to him. Talk to you through it. He new very well the effect his voice had on you, several times you had mentioned to him that you loved his voice because it managed to calmed you down even during difficult moments.

“I got you, baby.” Joel stated daintily, holding your gaze, soft voice bringing you back. “I'm here, I'm here for you, you're okay, you're safe with me.”

He approached you and kissed the tip of your nose affectionately, brushing away a lock of hair that had fallen across your forehead, blocking his view of your beautiful eyes. “I won't let anything happen to you. I promise.”

At his words, you felt the sudden urge to hug him, so you did, wrapping your arms around his torso and pulling him to you, making him break into a weak little smile, wrapping you in his arms again. As you laid your head against his chest, you closed your eyes, focusing on the beating of his heart against your ear, the expansion of his chest with each inhale of oxygen from his lungs, the way his fingers caressed your back, the smell of his scent, gunpowder, coffee and wet soil; Joel. Your Joel.

You sniffed once you lifted your head, resting your chin against his chest, “Ellie? She's—”

Joel smiled sweetly at your question, relieved to know that you were drifting back to him slowly, snapping back to reality. And of course the first thing you would do was ask about Ellie, his hands stroking your hair now, looking down at you in his arms, “She's fine, she's here.”

“I'm sorry.” You mumbled between sniffles and Joel watched with his brow furrowing in pity as shame passed over your beautiful face, eyes sorrowful. “I shouldn't have—”

And for that, he immediately interrupted you, making it impossible for you to continue with your unnecessary apology, well knowing it was coming, as you tended to feel the need to apologize whenever you were too emotional in front of him.

“Hey, there's nothin' you need to apologize for, pretty girl, most certainly not to me. It's a completely natural and normal reaction.” His gaze became sorrowful, thinking fleetingly of all you had suffered over the years and how he had not been there to protect you. But now he was. And he wasn't going anywhere. “You've been through a lot, but you're still here, with me, that means you're strong, darlin'. The strongest person I know.” His fingers trailed down your hair, again cradling your face within the familiar warmth they always offered. His cheeks expanded as a sympathetic, sweet smile tugged at his lips. “You know I got you. Always.”

You nodded your head, pushing aside every reason your head was giving you to apologize for feeling this way and focusing on his eyes, your hands made a path up his arms until they rested over his hands, fingers soothingly caressing his upon your cheeks. “I know. Thank you, honey.”

“That's what I'm here for.” He replied before leaning over to you and leaving a kiss on your forehead so soft and loving that it made you close your eyes, holding back the urge to cry again. “I'm going to bring them here, bury them. They deserve it.”

You nodded your head once again, “They do.”

Joel broke away from you and not before giving your hand a squeeze he half turned back to Ellie, throwing her a gentle look, twisting his head in your direction. “Stay close to her.”

Ellie didn't need him to tell her that for her to immediately cling to you, offering you a weak smile as you took her hand between yours. She gave it a small squeeze, silently letting you know she was there for you, which you thanked her for by returning the gesture.

And you both watched with your hands joined as Joel buried Henry and Sam. And by the time Joel finished, Ellie unlaced her hand from yours, walking towards the graves, taking in her other hand the small slate that belonged to Sam.

Joel took his position back at your side, analyzing your gaze as you watched Ellie lay the little slate on Sam's grave, both of you giving her own time to mourn and to say goodbye to the one who, so far, had been the closest thing to a friend she'd had in years, maybe. It broke your heart at the mere thought of how much she had had to go through in her short life. She was so strong.

Ellie stood up a few minutes later, looking at Joel. Her face was stern and she looked more determined than ever. She was just tired of losing people too, you guessed. “Which way's west?”

Joel simply answered her by motioning with his head in the direction and she without another word, started walking to the street.

Your eyes filled with tears as you saw what she had written to him on the board. 'I'm sorry.'

Joel's warm hand on your lower back brought you back to reality, drawing your attention back to him, looking at you affectionately. “You ready?”

You nodded your head and looked at him as he put his backpack back on, hanging up his jacket before taking your hand between his and walking back down your path, leaving once again, a couple more bodies behind you, weighing more on your shoulders.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #the last of us #tlou #hbo tlou #joel miller tlou #joel miller imagine #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #pedro pascal #the last of us x reader #hbo the last of us #the last of us hbo #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller one shot #the last of us fanfiction

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