#he knows the path he walks is wrong and he is pretty much doomed to be destroyed either by his own actions or by the wrath of society

[imaginesfordifferentfandoms]

I Wish You Would

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Prompt - ‘I wish you would come back, wish you were right here, right now, it's all good, I wish you would.’

Joel found himself walking the lengths of the gated community most nights, his thoughts wild and harsh, berating himself for being so stupid. Most of the time he waited until Ellie was asleep but some nights he felt caged and marched out whilst the kid was still downstairs, Ellie shaking her head every time he shrugged on a coat and opened the door but he was just glad she hadn’t called him out on his bullshit yet. He knew it was coming, it had been months in the making but he just wasn’t in the mood for it. He’d walked for a while but his feet always ended up taking him down the old familiar path that led him to your house.

How many nights had he spent just standing on your porch, fist raised as he thought about knocking before he turned with his tail between his legs?

Too many, too damn many.

It had been months since the breakup, god how had so much time passed already? He didn’t even know how it had turned into a relationship, he sure as hell hadn’t brought Ellie and himself back here with any intentions of getting himself a girl. But then you showed up, all pretty eyed and bright smiles and somehow, somehow, you had managed to worm your way into his life, somehow you had become part of the small number of people he would tear the world apart for to keep safe.

After Ellie he thought that was it, he didn’t think anybody else would be capable of coming into his life and turning it upside down again. You just seemed to love proving him wrong.

He’d gone twenty years without giving a damn about anyone else but suddenly he seemed to be making up for all that lost time given how fiercely and how strongly he loved the pair of you.

He’d already showed what he was capable of when Ellie was in danger but with you he had never had a reason to show just how dangerous he could be if you were in trouble, thankfully you weren’t put out on duty too often and you spent your time inside the gates but he knew if it came to it he’d kill anyone who even looked at you wrong.

And he had messed it all up. Even before the world ended he had never been any good at the whole dating thing. His job took up most of his time and when he got home he was tired and more content to spend the evening with Sarah than some woman.

He knew he liked you, it was a slow thing at first, he tried to keep you at arm’s length, tried to avoid you and distance himself but damn it if you were persistent. Tommy told him you were good, somehow even after all the doom and gloom you still found a way to be way kinder than people deserved.

It was Ellie that forced you into his life though. She wasn’t a stupid kid, not by any means, and she could tell that Joel liked you. So one day when Joel had gotten up from the sofa to make dinner not too long after she’d gotten in from school Ellie told him she’d invited you over to join them.

The look on Joel’s face was one Ellie had not seen before, he was torn between being pissed at her for springing it on him but he was also flustered, stammering out something unintelligible before demanding she help him cook seeing as she was inviting people over.

He had thought dinner would be awkward, full of stilted silences but seemed to forget that was impossible when Ellie was there. She must have asked you a hundred questions that night, one after the other, Joel had been tempted to tell her to calm it after the first thirty but you were smiling and answering them all, shooting them back at her and Joel couldn’t stop the smile that twitched at his lips.

From then on it became a regular occurrence, you joining them for dinner, most of the time you brought dessert that had Ellie grinning and swiping it from you before you even had a foot in the door. It was domestic in a way, listening as Joel scolded her with no real heat as he let you into the house and you automatically joined him in the kitchen to help finish up the meal. He scolded you for that too insisting you were a guest but you always shook him off with a laugh.

From there it went on, you stayed for longer after dinner was finished, Joel broke out the board games and grouched to himself when he was beaten by you whilst Ellie laughed at his misery. That turned into staying until Joel sent Ellie to bed and he saw you out.

Eventually it got to the point where you were staying long after Ellie had gone upstairs, you and Joel moving closer together on the couch until you were pressed against each other. Each of you usually had a drink and the conversations you had covered pretty much everything, at first they stayed on the safe topics of what you had done before the outbreak and other mundane things but eventually you started opening up to each other, Joel told you about Sarah, you told him how you were the only one who made it from your family.

Joel had never met anybody like you. He was right in his earlier assumption that you were too damn kind for your own good. Joel had told you things that should have sent you running, should have had you keeping as much distance between you and him as you possibly could have. Instead you had taken his hand in yours and rested your head on his shoulder before telling him he had done the right thing, that he had protected Ellie and that was the best thing he could do.

He didn’t know how you’d managed to survive out on your own for so long before coming across this place, too trusting and too nice, but somehow you had and he had never been more thankful.

It had taken months for Joel to finally even admit to himself that he was already halfway in love with you. At the point he had you had practically moved in with them, more and more of your things kept finding their way into their house, you fell asleep on the sofa and help Joel make breakfast before walking Ellie to school and heading to your own job only to meet back up with the girl afterwards and head to their house.

Ellie was a pain about it all, she wanted you and Joel together and she kept coming up with reasons to excuse herself giving you and Joel time together whilst shooting him a look each time she left the room. Joel could only ever roll his eyes at the look but even he could admit it was getting annoying now.

He wanted you, he didn’t know how it had happened but he wanted you and he knew despite everything you knew, despite the fact that he probably wasn’t the best thing for you, you wanted him too.

It took him a few more weeks to finally decide to just jump in head first and see what happened. So after cleaning up from dinner and playing a few games in the living room Ellie excused herself with a pointed look at Joel and this time instead of the half hearted glare he gave her each night he just nodded his head slightly and watched as she gawked at him before disappearing up the stairs, a soft yes escaping her as she left.

You had been able to tell Joel was nervous and usually if something was setting Joel off you’d be on edge too but considering it was just the two of you pressed shoulder to shoulder on the sofa you had hoped you could see where this night might lead. You’d been waiting for Joel to make a move for a long time now, not wanting to be the first to do it with how closed off Joel had been when you first met and then not wanting to ruin the friendship you had patiently formed with him. It was for the better to let Joel take the lead, even if it had been months of waiting.

He had watched your face shift from questioning to realisation and amusement as you settled even closer to him and waited. Of course you knew why he was nervous, some days it felt like you knew every damn thought in his head before he did.

He didn’t bother wasting anymore time, didn’t bother with words that felt stuck in his throat that could never do justice for how he felt for you, instead he just reached up to cup your cheek with a gentleness that had surprised you and leaned in towards you, stopping you before he touched your lips to give you a chance to pull away.

But you didn’t move, your eyes had fallen closed and your breath hitched despite anticipating this. Joel let himself close the distance between the two of you, let himself take a moment to savour the softness of your lips against his chapped ones before the kiss turned hungry, months and months of pent up pinning all channelled into one kiss.

From there nothing between either of you was ever really defined but it didn’t matter, Joel didn’t need any labels to let him know that he was in love with you. Nothing much really changed either after you started dating, it was only a few months after that kiss that Joel finally helped you bring your stuff around to their house and the three of you quickly got your stuff unpacked and you were settled in like you had never not been there.

Joel didn’t realise how empty, how lonely, he was before settling down, before having you and Ellie together, the pair of you at the kitchen table, heads bent together working on her homework, spending the nights with you curled up against him, listening to you laugh as he tried to kick you out of the kitchen as he cooked.

Really he should have known better, past experience should have taught him something, should have made him more cautious, but he had jumped head first in and now it was blowing up in his face.

It had been months, he couldn’t even really remember what that damn fight that made you walk out of the door with tears in your eyes was about. All he could remember was that it was the end of September, a time that always left him emotionally fragile at the best of times, and you had questioned whether he should be the one to go out on the supply run.

You hadn’t been anything but your sweet, soft spoken self, there wasn’t any judgement in your tone, no demands he stay inside the gates, just a simple are you sure you’re ok enough to do this. Joel being the absolute idiot that he was had gone and blown it out of proportion, honestly he was just picking a fight for the sake of it, he had so much anger and hurt and sadness in him that day and he took it out on you.

You who had been an absolute saving grace in this whole mess of a world, you who had stood by him no matter what, you who woke up in the night with whispered words and soothing touches when he shot up sweaty and panting and never forced him to talk about it before he was ready.

He had just kept going and going, yelling at you when you were the last person on this god forsaken planet who deserved it. He kept going until you took a deep breath and nodded, tears in your eyes and turned, walking out of the front door and not sparing him another glance.

It had been months since then, it was well into autumn now, the sky turning dark faster and the leaves turning brown. He hadn’t spoken to you once, he wanted to so badly but he knew he had messed up.

Ellie had called him every name she could think of to get him to see what an idiotic jerk he had been but he didn’t need her to tell him, he was well aware. He was aware of just how bad he messed up, hated himself for leaving it for so long but after he had calmed down and put the bottle of whiskey Tommy had given him months back away he couldn’t bring himself to talk to you.

He regretted it every day and wished he could just follow Ellie’s advice to suck it up and knock on her door you fucking idiot but time kept passing and it felt like too long had gone.

Joel was an idiot, you knew that, but you also knew he wasn’t used to letting other people in. Sure you and Ellie had somehow managed to chip at his walls long enough to slip past his defences and he was trying but you knew it was hard for him.

Spring and summer with Joel had been perfect, the two of you had only grown closer since you’d started dating and you loved the man, emotionally stunted as he was. You knew he had good days and you knew he had terrible ones, ones that left him in bed the whole day, words stuck in his throat as he grunted answers at you.

You didn’t mind, you had never minded. The world was a cruel place now and though Joel had told you a lot of what he’d gone through since the outbreak you knew there were things he hadn’t told you yet and that was ok too, you never pushed, especially not when there were things you kept to yourself.

When you had left his house that day you knew it would end one of two ways, Joel would come and find you once he had a few nights to calm down, to get past the day that haunted him from so many years back. You got it, you really did, it had been years since you lost your family and whenever an anniversary came around you didn’t want to do more than curl into Joel’s arms, hiding away whilst you cried into his chest.

The other option was that Joel would avoid you like you were a damn clicker, making sure the two of you were never in the same room whilst he licked his wounds. You hated that that was the option he went with. It wasn’t just months of dating that just ended one day but it was months of friendship before that. You were so used to his house that when you asked Tommy for yours back and he agreed with a sad look on his face it felt like you were in a stranger's house despite having lived there for years before Joel and Ellie showed up.

There was no more dancing around the kitchen as you cooked, no more stolen kisses and laughter filling the house. Instead you were alone in a house too big for you, cold and empty and missing Joel.

Of course you weren’t entirely lonely, you and Joel might not have been talking but you had to admit you were surprised when Ellie showed up at your door a few mornings after your fight with Joel, backpack on and demanding you walk her to school. You weren’t complaining of course and you didn’t complain when you walk past the school a few hours later and Ellie attached herself to your side, it was the closest she would come to giving either of you comfort but you took it silently and didn’t push her away when she walked into your house and made herself comfortable.

You were glad he hadn’t cut Ellie off from you, not that you ever thought he would and even if he did you knew Ellie would never allow it. Ellie was unlike anyone you’d ever met, so much of Joel in here and yet she was entirely her own person, so quick on her feet, always ready for a fight whilst silently always wanting some assurance that things were good and safe.

You didn’t even care how much time passed honestly, if Joel were to knock at your door now and apologise you’d have him back a second later. All you wanted was an apology, you might have been kind but it didn’t mean you would let people treat you wrong, you hadn’t survived twenty odd years in this new world by letting people walk all over you.

Most nights you lay in bed, the sound of people moving around outside could be heard but you blocked it out as your mind wandered. You always wished Joel would come to you, you dreamed about seeing him and watching as he stammered out an apology that he wasn’t used to giving before you would finally feel his arms around you again. You just wished he would show up and everything could go back to normal.

At the same time you were laying awake night after night missing the feeling of Joel’s arms around you, Joel was tossing and turning in his own bed that felt too empty without you in it with him. He ended up kicking the blankets off him more nights than not and forcing his feet into his boots, checking on Ellie to make sure she was safe and sleeping before quietly making his way out of the house.

Walking the lengths of the community didn’t really make it easier to dull the ache but he is able to sort through his thoughts easier than when he’s laying in bed staring up at the ceiling. The cold autumn air made him tug his coat tighter around himself as his thoughts went back to you.

God, you were the first person he had ever pictured something with, the first person he had wanted a relationship, a future, with. He had never seen himself as the type of person that would fall in love with somebody, for so much of his life he hadn’t had anyone and he had been fine with that but now he had had you and he wanted you back more than anything.

Night after night he found his feet walking unconsciously to your house. Each night he would stand at the closed door, pacing the length of the porch before turning back to the door and raising his fist. Whilst you were inside wishing he would knock he was sighing to himself as he lowered his hand and turned away, heading back to his cold bed for another night without you.

“You can’t keep doing this, Joel.” Ellie sighed a few weeks later, her voice uncharacteristically soft for this topic of conversation. “You’re miserable and not sleeping, I hear you sneaking out at night. She’s just as miserable, all she wants is for you to say sorry and then you’ll never have to talk about it again.”

“You don’t get it, Ellie. I messed up and now I’ve left it too damn late, she doesn’t deserve this.” Joel told her, keeping his voice steady even as his hands shook because the kid was right, he was so exhausted and he missed you.

“She loves you, Joel, she never stopped. She hates that house, just…just put everything aside, it doesn’t matter if you think she deserves better, she wants you.” Ellie told him as she stood up and grabbed her backpack. “She misses you and you miss her, you deserve something good, Joel.”

With that she turned to leave and Joel let his head fall into his hands. He knew she was right, he knew he was only making you both miserable and she had a point, no matter how many times he’d told you that you deserved better you always rolled your eyes and shut him up with a kiss, mumbling against his lips for him to stop being stupid.

He thought about that short conversation all day, it was nothing he hadn’t thought of himself but hearing Ellie say it made it sound more reasonable. You both loved each other and that was something rare, why was he so determined to mess it up?

That night he climbed out of bed again, stopping to check in with Ellie and rolling his eyes when he saw she was awake and grinning at him. He shook his head and told her to go to sleep before making his way out of this house. This time he forwent his usual walk of the community and instead made his way to your house hoping you would hear him out.

He didn’t have a speech ready, no grand words to win you back. He’d tried to pull something together but everything sounded forced and strained so he figured he’d see what he came up with when he saw you.

All he really knew was that he missed you and he loved you and even though that was scary, god was it terrifying, you were worth everything.

Now he suddenly understood all that romantic crap Frank prattled on about, about how there was somebody out there for everybody, somebody who would change the way he looked at things, changed the way he saw the world. He had always rolled his eyes when Frank started spouting poetry about love and finding your person even in this new cruel world but now he got it, he got what Bill had said when he read those words about finding the one person worth saving and protecting them because that’s what men like him were here to do and Bill was right, god help any motherfuckers who stood in their way.

Right now the motherfucker standing in the way was himself and he refused to drag this out any longer, if he knocked at your door now and you slammed it in his face then he’d accept it but if there was a chance you’d forgive him then he had to take it.

It wasn’t long before he was at your door and this time he didn’t give himself a chance to linger around, instead his fist knocked on the door and seemed to echo almost too loudly in the dead of the night.

Your heart sped up when you heard the knock on your door, there were only two people it could be and one of those was a young girl who wouldn’t bother with knocking, instead just letting herself in unannounced. The other was the man who had taken up permanent residence in your mind.

You threw a robe over your pyjamas to ward off the chill and slowly made your way down the stairs, trying to prepare yourself for coming face to face with Joel again for the first time in months.

Joel was a damn near nervous wreck as he waited for you to open the door, fists clenched at his sides as he cursed himself for listening to Ellie. You were probably asleep, it was probably for the best you didn’t answer anyway.

Just as he was about to turn and run the door opened and stopped him dead in his tracks. He could only stare at you, frozen in place like a deer in headlights. Ellie had been right, you clearly weren’t sleeping if the dark circles under your eyes were anything to go on, you had clearly been in bed though, hair slightly messy from where you had been tossing and turning and he could see you were wearing his shirt under your robe.

“God, I missed you.” He breathed out and then nearly slapped himself because that wasn’t what he had meant to say at all but the small smile that tugged at your lips was worth the slip up.

“What’re doing here, Joel?” You asked softly, leaning against the door frame and wrapping the robe even tighter around yourself as the air from outside hit you.

“Doing somethin’ I should’ve done a long time ago.” Joel sighed as he straightened up, it was easier now that you were in front of him, easier to breathe, easier to think, easier to speak. “You got every right to hate me, I should never have spoke to you like that and I sure as hell shouldn’t have waited all these months to come apologise. I ain’t gonna stand here and make excuses, I did what I did and I am so sorry, Y/N, I always told you you deserved someone better and I hate that I messed up so bad. I ain’t here asking you to take me back, I miss you like crazy but I get that I waited too long but you need to know I truly am sorry, baby.”

You were silent for about the longest minute of Joel’s life before your smile widened some more and you stepped forward, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your head against his chest.

Joel froze for a moment, stiff in your hold before you felt him practically melt around you, arms wrapping around your shoulders, one hand coming up to rest against the back of your head as he held you close to him, savouring the way you felt against him after months of doubting if he’d ever feel you again.

“That’s all I was waiting for, I just wanted an apology.” You murmured into his chest and Joel took a shaky breathing. “I love you, Joel, that never changed.”

“I love you too, you know that don’t you, baby?” He asked and you looked up at him, smile still in place as you nodded and reached up to press your lips to his.

Joel let himself be pulled into the kiss, let it stay soft and slow as he cupped the back of your head to pull you closer. Eventually the two of you pulled away, unable to do more than just smile at each other.

“We’re good?” Joel whispered as he leaned his forehead against yours, feeling as you nodded again.

“Yeah, we’re good.” You said softly causing Joel to lean down for another kiss before he pulled away again.

“Go put your shoes on, it’s about time you came home.” He told you, keeping his voice soft and low.

You didn’t hesitate to turn around and slip your feet into the first pair of shoes you found by the door, just as desperate to go home as Joel seemed to be to have you there. The two of you didn’t speak as you walked the short distance back to the house, Joel tucking you under his arm with both of you thankful that you were coming back.

Both of you were exhausted, it had been months of sleepless nights without the other and it seemed to hit the pair of you the second you were wrapped up under the blanket, you curled into Joel’s chest as his arms rested around you. Immediately you felt your eyes close, too heavy to keep open and Joel struggled to pry his open.

“Glad you’re back home, Y/N/N.” Joel murmured into your hair and you could only hum and nod tiredly against his chest. “Gonna spend the rest of my life treatin’ you right.”

“Love you, Joel.” You whispered into his chest and Joel smiled tiredly as he pressed a kiss against your hair.

“I love you too, baby.” Joel whispered back and forced himself to stay awake until he heard you breathing even out and he was sure you were asleep.

The next morning Ellie couldn’t contain her smug grin as she came downstairs to the sound of laughter and music from the record player. Joel was the first one to see her and he couldn’t even pretend to glare at her, he owed that kid more than she knew and this was just another thing to add to the list, without her he sure as hell wouldn’t have pulled his head out of his ass and fixed things between you and him before they became too broken.

You were more than happy to have your routine back, cooking and laughing with Joel, sitting at the table making easy conversation with the two people you loved most in the world, glad that your wish was answered and Joel had finally knocked at your door to bring you home.

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[tathrin]

🖤 a dark ship?

[from this ask meme]

I think I have to answer Silvergifting for this one. (And let me also throw you a rec for my brand new Celebrimbor joins the Fellowship AU, with lots of post-Silvergifting trauma baked-in.)

For starters I'm completely obsessed with the very idea of the Gwaith-i-Mírdain and desperately need some kind of hardcore world building 75-chapter story set in Ost-in-Edhil about these crazy smiths and the culture of their city. And of course you cannot talk about Ost-in-Edhil without talking about Sauron, and how he wormed his way into their lives and forges and was probably happier there than he'd ever been in his life before he destroyed it.

But it's about how much they had in common, and how great things could have been if only Annatar had meant any of his pretty lies (and maybe he did, just a little; maybe he wished he did, just a little; a Sauron who is at least tempted to Be Someone Other Than Sauron is my favorite flavor of this; a Sauron who destroys his own happiness, too in his pursuit of his dreams of power and does it anyway...) and how impossibly terrible everything was instead.

Doomed less by the narrative than by yourself: by looking at the blood that stains your own lineage and being forgiving of a maia who has blood and shadows in his own past as a result of wishing that you could ever forgive your family and yourself for their sins (because Celebrimbor might not have known that Annatar was Sauron, but he had to have figured out that something was wrong eventually; had to have made a conscious choice to ignore the warnings of Galadriel and Elrond, even if he didn't want to admit to himself quite how conscious; had to have sensed something off eventually, after so many years of working so closely together, and either decided to ignore it or to accept it because maybe everyone deserves a second chance, right? And what else is Ost-in-Edhil for...?).

Doomed by the knowledge of the horrors that resulted from your family's smith-craft in previous years, and your fear of what your own hands could make as a result; and being coaxed to step beyond the self-imposed limits that you set upon yourself because of that fear. By the fact that you finally, finally feel comfortable and safe enough here working with the Gwaith-i-Mírdain to take a risk in the forge and try something great...and the damnable results of that risk being taken alongside the worst person you could have possibly chosen to craft with, and knowing that you've doomed not just yourself but the world, too...

Knowing that in the end, you've done exactly the sort of damage that you once swore you would never do; that the only good thing left for you to do is to die without giving every last scrap of yourself away again; of having the precious knowledge of the Seven and the Nine dragged from your bleeding lips by the one who'd helped you walk the beautiful paths of their forging in the first place; to have spent so long waiting to show Annatar the glories you achieved with the Three while he was gone, and then realizing too late that their glory was just another form of doom and you could never, ever let him see.

To die at the hands of the lover who taught you to trust yourself again but who was himself lying all along... (But was he lying to you, or to himself?)

There's nothing good about silvergifting, but there could have been. In a kinder world, there would have been; should have been. And that's the appeal, I think: it's the tragedy that was always going to happen, but shouldn't have had to. They should have been able to heal one another from the scars of the First Age and the Years of the Tree; to use the combination of their great skills to heal the world from the damage that Sauron and his Master and the Oath of Fëanor did to Middle-earth; to make things better...

But they didn't. They didn't.

Instead all breaks to ruin and Celebrimbor dies broken in the dark, and love isn't enough to save him; love is only enough to damn him. To lift his shattered dreams like a banner before the Enemy and see his home and all his hopes burn to bitter ashes.

The Lord of Gifts and the Silver-handed Smith should have been able to create beautiful things between them; the most beautiful things seen since the Silmarils. But instead, all they wrought was destruction. Which is another, terrible form of beauty, in its own wretched way.

*Also see this previous post where I ramble deliriously about the joys and horrors of Celebrimbor/Annatar/Narvi.

#emoji shipping asks #asks meme #silvergifting #celebrimbor #sauron #annatar #gwaith i mirdain #shipping

[kanansdume]

After reading this post by @ahsoka-in-a-hood, it occurred me to that this is exactly why I really don't like the way Obi-Wan's history with Satine is written.

Because it's not about Obi-Wan.

Obitine as a SHIP isn't about Obi-Wan.

It's about Anakin.

I've been looking at the moment where Obi-Wan confesses that he would have left the Jedi Order had Satine said the word as a take on a crisis of faith storyline for Obi-Wan, similar to ones seen in the Melida/Daan arc in Jedi Apprentice and, most recently, the Padawan book and Obi-Wan Kenobi show. And in that case, it fails. Entirely.

Because in order for it to be a good crisis of faith storyline, to me, it needs to have a moment where Obi-Wan actively chooses to remain a Jedi, where he recognizes he's on the wrong path and comes back. He can leave for a time, he can stray, he can question, that's the whole point. But it has to be Obi-Wan's choice to come back to the Jedi because he recognizes that it's the right path for him, that it's the path he WANTS to take.

And the line "I would have left the Jedi Order, if you had said the word" removes all choice from Obi-Wan. Because what's left unsaid here is, "I only stayed in the Jedi Order because you DIDN'T say the word." Which puts all of the power of choice onto Satine, not Obi-Wan. And we don't even hear why Satine didn't ask him to stay, whether it's because she just didn't realize he liked her enough to stay or because she recognized they would never truly work out even if he did stay for her. Obi-Wan nearly leaving the Jedi Order for Satine has no real impact on Obi-Wan's character because the reason as to why he DIDN'T is so passive. He's not acting, he's REACTING.

But it was never about Obi-Wan. It was about Anakin.

Obi-Wan's ENTIRE relationship with Satine and, arguably, Satine's entire character, is about being a metaphor/foil for Anakin (and Padme/Anidala). That's it.

Obi-Wan and Satine have a history where they went through a traumatic experience together where Obi-Wan was helping Satine escape a war on her planet that she was the ruler of, this war has a major impact on Satine's ideologies as we see them in the present day, Obi-Wan and Satine barely seem to truly agree on much of anything, their disagreements cause them to react unprofessionally in public. There's a lot of similarities in the dynamic set up between Obi-Wan and Satine, and Anakin and Padme.

Because Obitine is just a way to use Obi-Wan to showcase what Anakin (and Padme) should've done. Obi-Wan and Satine walk away because they both recognize this relationship is never going to truly work. They don't agree on much of anything, but both of them know that because they confront each other about things the other says or does they disagree with rather than brushing it under the rug and pretending it didn't happen. Obi-Wan and Satine allow duty to come first, but also appear to recognize that even if one of them gave up duty, the relationship would be doomed. They care about each other because they have a bond from spending a year on the run together, but this does not make them GOOD for each other and they're both smart and honest enough to recognize that and so, even after Satine pressures Obi-Wan into making a confession of love to her, neither of them acts on it.

And then, of course, in The Lawless, we see Obi-Wan facing Satine in a lot of danger and is unable to do very much to help her because of restrictions placed on him via the Senate and the Council, so he chooses to BEND some rules in order to allow him to give what help he can without bringing untold harm to everyone around him, and when he fails, he refuses to let it sink him into darkness. He makes a whole speech about it that's particularly on the nose, obviously, and it's pretty pointed towards "This is what Anakin should've done and didn't."

This is why Obitine just doesn't appeal to me, because it's not really about Satine or Obi-Wan at all. Satine is a prop, a Padme knock-off, intentionally. She's just there to show what Padme should've done, but also to be a catalyst to showcase through Obi-Wan what Anakin should've done. Obi-Wan's allowed zero real agency in this relationship because his "choice" to stay with the Jedi isn't there to actually say anything about Obi-Wan or further our understanding of him as a character, but simply for the audience to go "ah yes, the opposite of Anakin." Made even more heavy-handed by Anakin coming in 2 seconds later and killing someone to the tune of the Imperial March because the show decided to conveniently forget Jedi have telekinesis in favor of reminding everyone that Anakin's going to go dark side soon.

It's not a crisis of faith storyline, it's not an Obi-Wan backstory even. It's just a metaphor for Anakin and Padme.

#obi-wan kenobi #satine kryze #obitine #anti obitine #anakin skywalker #padme amidala #anti anidala #i like obi-wan storylines that remember to be about obi-wan #i hate obi-wan storylines that are just pretending to be about obi-wan and are in fact actually about someone else #usually anakin #lux and ahsoka are the same thing and i didn't care for them either #obi-wan

[fremedon]

Brickclub 4.12.1, “The History of Corinthe from its Foundation”

So we’re back at Waterloo. And the convent, and the bagne--Hugo takes us through all of the Waterloo reflections, in fragments of the introduction to the barricade.

I’ve mentioned before that the barricade shatters the structure of the book in the way that Waterloo shatters history, so that its echoes are strewn all through the earlier chapters. (I would love to find a better metaphor than the explosion of the Jaggeroth spaceship in “City of Death,” but that’s what I’ve got.) Now we’re finally nearing the barricade itself, and all those fragments and echoes start to reappear.

Our first image--a literal signpost on the way to the barricade, a basket-maker’s sign--is a basket in the shape of Napoleon, with the inscription Napoleon est fait / Tout en osier, “Napoleon is made entirely of willow.” Once again, the story’s path is marked by images of the emperor--but here he’s hollow, reduced to an advertising slogan. Partly a dig at NIII, I’m sure, but also, the people we’re following into this place have seen the hollowness of the Empire’s promises. This place may be the mirror of Waterloo, but it’s a last stand of a group that rejects Great Men altogether. Napoleon has no power here.

This is the third place that Hugo introduces by means of an aerial map in the shape of a letter--after Waterloo’s A and the convent neighborhood’s K, we have an N laying out the streets around the Rue de la Chanvrerie.

But our introduction to the street itself reads a lot more like the description Hugo never gives us of the bagne:

...the labyrinthine criss-crossings of these four streets contrived to divide up the houses into seven oddly-shaped islets of different sizes, lying this way and that, as though at random, and barely separated from each other by narrow chinks like blocks of stone in a quarry. We say narrow chinks, and it would be impossible to give any better idea of those dark, cramped, crooked lanes lined with eight-story tenement buildings. These tenement buildings were so decrepit that in Rue de la Chanvrerie and Rue de la Petite-Truanderie the façades were shored up with beams running across from one house to another. The street was narrow and the gutter wide, anyone on foot walked on paving that was always wet, past cellar-like shops, thick, iron-ringer boundary posts, inordinate piles of rubbish, portals fitted with huge, age-old grills.

And a bit later,

Anyone coming from Rue Saint-Denis into Rue de la Chanvrerie saw it gradually narrow ahead of him, as if he had entered an elongated funnel.

The funnel shape recalls the sewer exit, which Hugo says is built like the gate of a prison.

(Fours and eights are Hugo’s numbers of doom: the tenements are eight stories; but the four streets manage to make only seven islands--this place is teetering on the edge of doom, but it’s not quite there yet.)  

But for all that Hugo takes care to set the scene very specifically, he’s also explicitly describing a setting irretrievably past. As with Waterloo, where the ground has been leveled and reshaped; as with his fictional convent, set in a neighborhood that was raised to build the Gare de Lyon, these streets were gone by the time of writing: the Rue Rambuteau, the very first of the new wide, straight streets brought through the city center by urban renewal, even before Hausmann, paved over the former Rue de la Chanvrerie, and much of the surrounding neighborhood was razed.

Partly, it’s a functional choice--the geography is so changed that Hugo can change it to suit his story and no one can say he’s wrong. On the other hand, unlike with the convent, he didn’t actually change much at all--his description matches period maps pretty closely.

Those urban renewal projects, however, reshaped central Paris to make it much less suitable for barricade warfare. Hugo doesn’t know how much less suitable--we’re still a decade out from the suppression of the Commune, when Thiers will drive artillery right down those broad, straight streets and come at the barricades from behind. But the war he’s describing is one that could no longer be fought in this location. 

(Despite the destruction of the surrounding neighborhood, however, the building at the corner of the Rue de la Chanvrerie and Rue Mondetour, which Hugo insists has been knocked down, is still there, now on Rue Rambuteau, not quite matching the description of the Corinthe but not too far off, either. As with No. 6 Rue de Filles-du-Calvaire, Hugo claims the places he’s describing have been erased even where they haven’t, to give himself more dramatic license.) 

As for the name Corinthe--it’s come up a few times in the text. Hugo has contrasted it with Sybaris; Grantaire has dismissed it for its statue honoring the wrestler Episthates. The first and most important reference, though, is in the year 1817, just after the quote from the police prefect dismissing the Parisians as “as easy-going and indolent as cats”:

Police prefects do not believe a cat can possibly turn into a lion. Yet it can, and that is the miracle of the Paris populace. Moreover, the cat so despised by Comte Anglès was held in esteem by the republics of antiquity. It embodied freedom, in their eyes; and as though to serve as a pendant to the Wingless Minerva of Piraeus, there stood on the public square in Corinth the bronze colossus of a cat.

Cats and lions, and the transformations of cats (or puns on same, thank you Combeferre) have continued to come up--and shortly before the barricade’s fall we’ll see a literal cat at the Corinthe.

(@pilferingapples has a lot more on the Waterloo parallels, which I won’t bother to repeat; go read.)

#brickclub #lm 4.12.1

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 302: As the Todoroki Turns

Previously on BnHA: 

Today on BnHA: We have a very fun chapter in which (1) Shouto grows up lonely on account of his parents being worried that his siblings will literally try to kill him, (2) Natsu and Fuyu grow up neglected on account of not being special and/or self-destructive enough to attract attention, (3) we get to revisit all of that exciting spousal abuse from chapter 39, and (4) Touya burns to death right on cue, pretty much exactly like we expected it to happen. Thankfully since this is a shounen manga, Horikoshi finds some hope in all this misery as the Todoroki family rallies together, with Shouto getting his long-overdue credit for being a perfect sweet angel who put up with all of this shit for sixteen years and somehow came out of it strong and kind and empathetic and determined. Anyway, so that flashback was a barrel of laughs. But now that it’s over, we can put all of that angst behind us, and move on to... well I guess, probably, more angst. Look, we’re short on variety at the moment. Bear with it.

ouch. we knew this was coming, but still

A+ parenting move there. “ho boy, our eldest just tried to murder our youngest, now what? hmm how about we isolate our youngest from all human contact”

though in their defense, we probably shouldn’t have expected this rabidly strength-obsessed fire man and his wife who was groomed since childhood to obey her family’s whims to have any idea of how to raise stable, well-adjusted offspring

SERIOUSLY YOU GUYS

this is a perfect example of Enji’s tragically self-revolving viewpoint right here. just because being a hero is your entire world doesn’t mean you can just excuse yourself from anything outside of that and act like it’s out of your control. “alas, all I care about is hero stuff and my son can’t be a hero, we are doomed to inhabit two different worlds” no you jackass, it’s called having more than one hobby?? figuring out how to spend some time with your son that doesn’t involve training?? the same exact thing you were telling him to do last week, while ignoring that you’ve never done that yourself in your life??

that said, yet again we have that complexity though because it’s obvious that Enji at least on some level is aware of his own flaws, even though he seems unwilling or unable to confront them. honestly, from what we’ve seen so far, Enji’s obsession with surpassing All Might might be more accurately called an addiction. he literally can’t let go of it even though he’s fully aware of how it’s slowly destroying his life. and so in the same way that a lifelong smoker or alcoholic might tell their child to stay away from cigarettes and booze, Enji tells Touya not to follow down the same path as him, even though he himself doesn’t know how to leave that path. so yes, it’s hypocritical as fuck, but there’s also an element of helplessness there as well because Enji literally doesn’t know how not to be like this

though all the same he sure could stand to put in more than just a token effort. but it is what it is, and we already know how much he’ll come to regret it

and meanwhile Baby Shouto has frozen his sleep bubble with his quirk lmao. so I guess his quirk did come in early. that’s a recipe for chaos right there

once again Shouto is ruining every single dramatic panel in this flashback

this was so dark and intense... and then I spotted the lil bubs in the corner. Horikoshi please control yourself

“some hero you are, running away” and then all of a sudden, “FIVE YEARS LATER” lol what. OKAY THEN

(ETA: love the confirmation that eight-year-old Natsu comes from the Iida school of puberty and is basically a fully grown man, and meanwhile Touya comes from the hobbit school of puberty and has been perpetually eight for the past five years.)

“HEY BIG BRO WANNA COME RECREATE AN ICONIC FLASHBACK SCENE WITH US. WE’VE GOT THE SOCCER BALL RIGHT HERE, BUT HURRY UP OR WE’LL BE TOO LATE FOR SHOUTO TO WALK ON BY AND STOP TO LOOK”

lol and that’s literally the next three panels. but Horikoshi did add this extra bit after Endeavor starts to drag Shouto away

seriously Enji what the hell did you expect was going to happen here. “Touya went nuts and tried to kill his little brother out of jealousy, so let’s make it clearer than ever that Shouto is the important child and all the other children are just rejects. this will definitely not make the problem 100x worse, and will surely lead to Touya giving up and living a happy life, having been emotionally abandoned by the person he admired more than anyone.” good for you pal you figured it all out. no need for that plan b, “we all just go to therapy”

anyway so he’s telling Shouto he can’t play because he needs more endurance training. and meanwhile Touya’s patented Todoroki Drama Genes are going through puberty as well

definitely the face of a happy, emotionally stable child who’s not still plotting to murder his younger brother in his sleep

“WELL ACTUALLY MAKESTE” lol I stand corrected??

apparently during the five year interim Touya actually stopped blaming Shouto and realized Enji was the one at fault. good for him! a bit inconsistent, given what we know happens later, but I assume we’ll get to that in good time

anyway. “yeah man I agree that dad sucks, but it’s the middle of the night and I’m only eight and you’ve been monologuing for the past two hours bro”

LMAO

the manga is making my jokes for me, only better. fine then

looks like someone’s still miffed about that disagreement he had with his baby sister back when she was like four

“Fuyu doesn’t get properly riled up like I want her to so ranting to her is annoying.” okay but having been in Fuyu’s shoes, it really is just a different way of coping, and I can guarantee she’s not as fine with the whole situation as Touya might think. but making your peace with something is often a decision that’s made for emotional self-preservation reasons. and I sure as hell don’t fault her for trying to shut out a situation that she had no control over, and trying to make the best of it, and scrape together as normal a childhood as she could manage

and now in Touya’s defense as well, that is of course easier said than done, and I’m sure if there was a “push this button and instantly get over all of the trauma in your life” switch readily available for Touya then he would have pushed it too. unfortunately it’s not always that simple

so now Rei is pleading with Touya not to go train up on his little emo hill again, but it doesn’t seem like much has changed since he was eight

I don’t think he gives two figs about being a hero; he just wants his father to look at him again with pride. fucking hell, stop doing this to me you damn Todorokis

guh, they keep telling him the same thing over and over again

even if we hadn’t already known he was gonna go melt his jawbone off soon, I wouldn’t have expected a line like that to go over well

yep. fuck

that Todoroki puberty angst, though. nothing else quite like it

“you have a part in this too, Mom” ooooooh man

okay but look, he’s not entirely wrong. like, I’m not saying any of this is Rei’s fault at all! she’s in an impossible situation where she’s afraid to stand up to Enji (who by this point has shown that he’s willing to physically attack her if things get too heated, which is terrifying), and doesn’t really have anywhere to turn for support. her parents aren’t helping much if at all, and Japan in general is just a terrible country to be in when you’re in a domestic abuse situation. everyone’s expected to put on a brave face and deal with their problems all on their own in private. Rei is basically completely isolated at this point, and she doesn’t know what else to do, and so she’s just trying to keep the situation as stable as possible for the kids

but on the other hand, “for the kids” is also where that argument starts to break down a bit, because at this point Shouto is also being physically abused by his father, and the other kids are continuing to be neglected (emotionally if not physically), as they have been for years. so the situation really isn’t stable at all for them. and as a kid, what you end up learning in that type of situation is that you can’t rely on either parent. not the abusive one, certainly, but also not the other one who can’t protect you from any of it. even if they love you and they’re trying, they’re just as helpless as you. Rei is struggling to deal with all of this with one hand tied behind her back, and I get it, and I’m not blaming her at all. but all the same, particularly given that she’s (understandably) putting almost all her focus on Shouto, the end result is that the other kids have basically been left to fend for themselves

so yeah! a shitty situation all around. and one of those cases where it’s not really anyone’s fault (aside from Enji’s), but I can understand the resentment Touya is feeling all the same. and I’m so glad Horikoshi is acknowledging this, because it’s something I probably would have been too uncomfortable to bring up otherwise. as it is it’s still an incredibly heavy subject, and one that I probably have too many personal feelings about

anyway, so once again the whole “we’ll try talking to him and then just shrug our shoulders when it doesn’t work” parenting strategy doesn’t really pan out for the Todoroki fam

sob this boy is Anakin Skywalkering before our very eyes. all that’s missing is AFO to come and start whispering in his ear. any minute now...

“anyway so then he got taller and his fire changed from red to blue���

guess we’re getting pretty close then huh. this is the part of the flashback that I really don’t want to see, but also unfortunately the part that I’m most curious about :/

oh for fuck’s --

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN IGNORING HIM FOR FIVE YEARS DIDN’T ACTUALLY DO ANYTHING TO SOLVE THE PROBLEM” sob. back to the drawing board I guess

I thought he got taller, why is he still only like a third of Enji’s height here

oh fuck me these are armor-piercing feels. this is the heavy artillery right here

ENJI I’M BEGGING YOU PLEASE STOP AND THINK FOR ONE MOMENT IN YOUR LIFE BEFORE DOING SOMETHING YOU’LL REGRET FOR THE REST OF ALL TIME. your child just told you that he still thinks beating All Might is the only thing you care about, and that he believes his existence is a mistake unless he finds some way of doing that for you. please stop for a moment to contemplate that and choose your next words with care and grace and oh who the hell am I kidding

-- OR WE COULD JUST BLAME REI

go on and blame everyone but yourself then!! that’s a great solution!! jesus christ man I know this is Endeavor at his literal worst but still this is fucking hard to watch

POOR BABY SHOUTO IS YELLING AT HIS DAD NOT TO HIT HIS MOMMY THIS LITTLE BRAVE BOY NEEDS SO MANY HUGS OH MY GOD

AND MEANWHILE THE OTHERS ARE HUDDLED IN THE NEXT ROOM TRYING NOT TO CRY AH FUCK

(ETA: Fuyu covering Natsu’s ears cuts RIGHT TO THE CORE OF ME. Horikoshi if you’re really not gonna get these kids some therapy then at least consider giving your readers some. what is this.)

you know it’s bad when you’re starting to think the part where the kid burns to death might actually be a less traumatic thing to cut to right now

holy shit, actual Rei thoughts

“I was the one who ultimately made that choice” well there we go, wonder if that’ll put that whole argument to bed at last. I doubt it, but you never know. actually who am I kidding it’s not gonna settle jack shit lol

oh thank god, they decided it was getting too intense and cut away back to the present to narrate this next (final?) part

get ready to cue up that Alicia Keys. THIS BOY IS ON FIREEEEEEE

yeah I think that’s one thing we can mostly all agree on. neither of them had any clue what the fuck they were doing pretty much at any point. though I will say that the hypocrisy of him being all “WHY DIDN’T YOU STOP HIM” followed by him IMMEDIATELY DOING THE EXACT SAME THING is a bit rich

(ETA: and he still has this problem, doesn’t he? he froze up when Ending snatched Natsuo, and again when Dabi was attacking Shouto. he’s so afraid of doing the wrong thing that he ends up not doing anything, which of course is exactly what led to Touya’s death. damn Enji I guess you’ve still got some additional character development to unlock.)

and of course neither of them could possibly have known how badly it was going to turn out. like, the consequences here were WAY disproportionate even for the shittiest of parenting. no one expects “I didn’t know how to talk to my son” to snowball into “my son burned to death and then somehow came back as a villain and murdered thirty people”

ohhhhhhhh fuck me

LITERALLY INCINERATED THE ENTIRE HILLSIDE. fuck. and I am so not ready for the scene of Enji finding the remains of his jawbone afterwards. at least we were spared anything super-graphic (for now at least)

I feel like the timeline here is off, btw?? wasn’t Touya’s death supposed to happen after Rei got hospitalized? this might be the first actual retcon of the entire flashback. although I think it makes more sense this way tbh

I do appreciate that ten years later Enji is finally reflecting on the fact that if he’d just given up his stupid obsession he could have stopped his family from crumbling apart. that probably sounds sarcastic as fuck, but it’s not. there are countless jerks out there who would have still managed to find a way to blame literally everyone and everything under the sun except for themselves. at least he finally figured out how to take responsibility, even if it came too late to stop his son from dying and being radicalized into a villain terrorist organization

and speaking of, it seems to me we’re missing a third and final part to this little tale of woe, and one which only Touya himself will be able to shed any light on. so we’ll see how that goes

oh man seeing the other kids blaming themselves even though none of it was their fault hits hard af. Rei wasn’t kidding when she said they’d been bearing that burden of guilt far longer than Enji

SHOUTO I SWEAR TO GOD IF THE NEXT PANEL IS YOU APOLOGIZING FOR BEING BORN, I WILL... WELL I’LL BE VERY SAD, I GUESS. SO DON’T DO IT

oh good he’s just being quiet. good. it absolutely is not your fault lil bean. it’s not theirs either, but feeling guilty about things that aren’t your fault is a time-honored shounen tradition

goddammit I braced myself for the angsty Shouto panel a page too early. gotta do it all over again now lol. okay here goes

;_;

well well well would you look at that

imagine that. talking things out with your child before they make a rash decision. looks like the Todorokis’ parenting skills are finally leveling up

OH MY GOD

holy shit. this is the most quintessential moment of father/son Todoroki bonding in the entire series. for me it even tops the “nice scar” scene lol. Enji sobbing at the fact that he still has a chance to set things right. and Shouto offering his hand in what is actually the most mature and selfless gesture I’ve ever seen, and being all “we’ll stop him together” to his dad who he hates, but also doesn’t really entirely hate anymore. and all of that is incredibly moving... BUT ALSO HE STILL REFUSES TO MAKE EYE CONTACT WITH HIM AND HE WOULD LIKE HIM TO STOP BEING SO FUCKING DRAMATIC ALREADY IF YOU DON’T MIND. “WHEN YOU’RE DONE CRYING...” fkjldsk

OH MY FUCKING LORD

(ETA: wouldn’t be a Todoroki drama fest if there wasn’t somebody listening in on the whole thing in secret just around the corner lmao.)

“you think we should have waited somewhere else?” “yeah, probably.” “are you feeling a lot of secondhand embarrassment too?” “god, you have no idea.” STFU HAWKS IT’S NOT EMBARASSING TO BE MOVED TO TEARS BY YOUR FAMILY ALL COMING TOGETHER IN YOUR DARKEST HOUR TO GIVE YOU HOPE THAT YOU PROBABLY DON’T DESERVE BUT ARE NONETHELESS INDESCRIBABLY GRATEFUL FOR

and anyway you chose these guys as your found family, bucko. too late to back out now. next time go get yourself adopted by the Iidas then

AND MEANWHILE NO WORD ON THE WHOLE “HOW DID A THIRTEEN-YEAR-OLD SURVIVE A FIRE THAT COVERED HIS BODY WITH HORRIFIC SCARS AND MELTED HIS JAW OFF, AND HOW DID HE SOMEHOW THEN MANAGE TO GO INTO HIDING FOR TEN WHOLE YEARS, AND WHAT HAPPENED IN THAT INTERIM TO CHANGE HIS GOAL FROM ‘SURPASS ALL MIGHT TO IMPRESS MY DAD’ TO ‘KILL ALL HEROES TO MAKE MY DAD SUFFER’.” as if we don’t know the answer to that. but still, would it kill Horikoshi to just confirm AFO’s involvement in all of this already. at this point it’s basically just a formality

so here’s hoping next week we’ll either get that, or more Hawks action, or (DARE I EVEN SUGGEST, I’M AFRAID TO JINX IT) finally cut back to Bakugou and Deku and All Might omg. either way I’m hyped

#bnha 302 #todoroki touya #dabi #todoroki enji #endeavor #todoroki rei #todoroki shouto #todoroki natsuo #todoroki fuyumi #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #my sincerest apologies for this absurdly long recap which is barely funny at all! #THERE WAS VERY LITTLE HUMOROUS CONTENT IN THIS CHAPTER #congratulations horikoshi you win this round

[zukkaflowers]

zukka enemies to roommates au

Sokka slammed his head on the cafe table, the noise swallowed up by the chattering of other customers. “I’m being EVICTED,” he moaned.

Katara raised her eyebrows as she drank her tea and then placed it back on the table. “Why?”

Sokka dragged his head up against the table until his chin was the only thing touching the wood and Katara made a face, no doubt thinking of all the germs that were now rubbed into Sokka’s face like lotion. Sokka couldn’t bring himself to care. He was too deep in his despair. “The landlord sold the building. And now I only have two weeks to move because everything around here is so fucking expensive and I got discouraged so I put it off—“

“Move in with Zuko!”

“...like I put everything—what did you just say?”

Katara’s face brightened, a stark contrast to the cloud of doom that had been enveloping Sokka. “His roommate is moving in with her girlfriend and he needs a new one. A roommate, not a girlfriend. And I think his place is really close to your work, too! It’s perfect!”

Sokka finally sat up, shoving his hands in his sister’s face to turn her brightness down a notch because it was hurting his eyes. “Wait wait wait, are you talking about the Zuko I think you’re talking about?”

“Is there another one?”

Sokka had many questions. “Why do you know he needs a new roommate? Why do you know his roommate is moving in with her girlfriend? How do you know where he lives? Did you just say, ‘it’s perfect’?”

Katara watched Sokka as he grabbed his drink, eyes never leaving her face in a demonstration of his seriousness, and then swallowed painfully with a grimace after realizing he’d grabbed Katara’s bitter tea on accident. “You’re such a goof,” she sighed in anguish. “Zuko and Aang actually went to university together and became friends. Zuko wants to be a teacher like Aang.”

Sokka sputtered. “WHAT?” A few strangers shot him judgmental looks at the outburst, which he ignored. “You—you—he—Aang—BETRAYAL??”

Katara rolled her eyes. “This is why we kept it a secret from you! We all knew you’d be overdramatic about it.”

“We ALL?”

Katara shrugged, finally having enough decency to look sheepish. “Yeah, me, Aang… and Suki and Toph.”

Sokka’s jaw dropped wider. “SUKI?” He clutched his heart. “Mine own bestie...”

Katara continued, “Well, it’s Toph that’s really close to him now, actually.”

“Figures. She’s always been my least supportive friend.” Sokka gasped as a realization hit him. “Is… is Zuko the ‘Captain Angst’ guy she keeps hanging out with??”

“Yeah,” Katara said plainly.

Sokka slammed his head back on to the table, where it might as well have stayed long-term.

“I’m serious, though, Sokka,” said Katara. “Zuko is… kind of okay, and obviously he has everyone else’s approval. You shouldn’t let a petty high school rivalry between you two get in the way of your current life.”

“‘Petty high school rivalry’??? Last I heard, there were four of us involved in the rivalry-ing! You weren’t too fond of him or his sister, either!”

Katara once again rolled her eyes. “All I’m saying is, the place is within your budget, it’s actually nice, and the commute is good. He’s only just started looking for a new roommate, and I promise that if you don’t try it out, you’ll regret it.”

“And all I’m saying is, if we move in together, Zuko and I will murder each other.”

Katara looked at her phone and stood up, collecting her bag and bile tea. “I doubt it. You haven’t spoken in five years, and you’ve both changed a lot. I have to go, Aang wants me to meet another stray dog, and we still have lunch with Yue, so I can’t let him get too carried away. I’ll text you details about Zuko’s place. Please at least look into it, Sokka.”

Her eyes were too genuine; he couldn’t say no. “Fine,” he grumbled, fully prepared to briefly skim over the information before moving on.

But when he did look it over, he saw that Katara was right. It was perfect. He could even walk to work if he wanted to, it was that close. The rent was well in his budget, even leaving extra leftover. He could maybe finally replace his cracked phone screen! Sokka sighed at the dim light of his laptop. The fates were telling him something. It sounded like, You will consciously choose the path of suffering, ahahahahaha.

“Sokka... wants to be my new roommate,” Zuko said.

“Hello to you too, angsty pants,” Toph replied through the phone.

“I think I’m going to say yes,” continued Zuko.

“Wait, Sokka? Katara’s brother?”

Zuko swallowed, eyes flicking to the stir fry he’d left on the stove. He’d been checking the notifications on his phone when he saw it and had immediately called Toph. “Yes.”

“Okay,” Toph offered helpfully.

“What do you think?”

Silence fell for a few seconds as Toph thought it through. “Are you sure it’s a good idea?”

“That’s what I’m asking you for. If he’s reaching out, he knows it’s me, so he can’t still hate me, right?”

“I don’t know,” said Toph. “Don’t you like him?”

Zuko bit his lip and weakly stirred his stir fry. “But it’s not like I’m still—I’m not hopelessly into him. It’s just. You know, a little bit.”

“You’re not even going to interview him? What if he poops with the door open? What if he… what if he eats in the bathroom while he poops.”

“Would I ask him about that in an interview?”

“If you’re not a coward.”

“Okay, I’ll interview him,” Zuko said, relenting. “What do I have to lose?”

To: Katara

Sokka: uuugughghgghghhhhhhh zuko wants to interview me

Katara: You looked into the place!!!

Sokka: yeah but i’m seriously doubting myself now

Sokka: can i really pretend not to hate him long enough to get the place

Katara: Have you considered just

Katara: Not hating him?

Sokka: …

Sokka: how could you even say that

Katara: Ok I thought so

Katara: Well just be professional if you don’t wanna be friendly

Katara: Pretend it’s a job interview

Sokka: oh yeah

Sokka: because imagining that zuko is my employer would definitely not make me hate him 400% more

Katara: On the bright side, you haven’t reached the threshold of hate yet if it can be increased by 400%! There is hope

Sokka: ha

Sokka: i scoff in the face of hope

Sokka let Suki pick out an outfit for him before going to meet Zuko at the cafe they agreed to meet at. He wanted to look nice so that Zuko, at least visually, might be inclined to let him become a flatmate, but mostly he just didn’t want Zuko to have the upper hand anywhere, not even in his fashion sense. And Zuko had grown up with money, so he’d always been well dressed.

Sokka slipped the chosen tan sweater over his button down and pulled on a pair of black jeans. The clothes covered all his tattoos—he was sure Zuko would not appreciate them. His hair, he couldn’t do much about, so he settled for tying it back as he always did.

He was so distracted throughout the train ride thinking about all the valid reasons he had to hate Zuko that he almost forgot to get off at the right stop. But the walk from the station was short, and before he knew it, he was opening glass doors, scanning faces, and—there he was. Hair hanging in his face, chin on his palm, and wearing—a hoodie and ripped jeans? Sokka cleared his mind of surprise and tried to relax his face.

He walked over.

To: Toph

Zuko: It went well?

Toph: Be more specific

Toph: For example, what went well

Zuko: The interview with Sokka

Zuko: I’m pretty sure he doesn’t shit with the door open, and he definitely doesn’t eat in the bathroom

Zuko: He was also

Zuko: really nice

Toph: Really nice to talk to? Or really nice looking?

Zuko: Shut up

Toph: Hm deflection

Zuko: I think you’re wrong

Zuko: I think it won’t be hard to live with him

To: Katara

Sokka: GEEZ THAT WAS SO HARD

Sokka: the whole time he’s being this stiff, boring, JERK

Sokka: i had to smile and nod the whole time

Sokka: no way will this keep up if we live together

Sokka: but i have to think of the commute…..

Sokka: and the view….

Sokka: and i’ll be closer to suki….

Katara: But Sokka, you will try, right?

Sokka: try what

Katara: To be nice to him.

Sokka: uh

Sokka: maybe?

By the end of the next week, Sokka had moved in the last of his boxes. He honestly didn’t have that much stuff. He did have one special thing, though. Or rather, a special friend.

“What are you doing?” Zuko asked, peeking into Sokka’s new room.

Swallowing his annoyance at being interrupted, Sokka gestured for Zuko to join him. They’d only exchanged at most a few sentences a day, and Zuko hadn’t done anything too irritating yet, so Sokka was going to try to keep his promise to Katara.

“This is my turtle, Duck,” he said, pointing to the turtle swimming around in the tank he’d just finished setting back up.

“What’s a turtleduck?” asked Zuko after plopping down beside him.

Sokka frowned. “I don’t know.”

“Then why do you have one?”

Before Sokka could answer, his phone rung from the dresser, its vibration so strong the whole room shook and Duck popped into his shell.

#zukka #atla #avatar the last airbender #zukka fic #writing #atla fic #zukka fanfic #enemies to friends to lovers #zukka modern au #roommate au #sorry idk how to format these i've never posted writing on tumblr before

[hotdamnhunnam]

Jax Teller: Fuck You Better

A/N: Hello loves!! I’m SO OBSESSED with the below request 😍 In which you tell your BFF Jax Teller that your vanilla sex life with your current fuckbuddy just isn’t fulfilling your needs any longer... and Jax offers to satisfy your hungers. Fuck you rougher—harder, better, faster, stronger 😏🔥

Pairing: Jax Teller x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, dirty talk, rough sex Request: This AMAZING anon request

Word Count: ~2.1k

“Jax... you really didn’t have to do that.”

“What? Kick your fuckbuddy’s butt?” your best friend ever, badass motherfucker Jax Teller, approaches you now with his signature smirk and his swaggering strut. Glances back over his shoulder at the loser you’re ashamed to call your lover. The poor guy is in pieces. It was supposed to be a pointless little brawl, here in the middle of a random SAMCRO shindig, but Jackie Boy is standing proud and tall, as if he just won the Olympics. Everyone’s cheering for the golden champion with his stupidly sexy blonde man bun.

Jax snickers back again at the opponent he just effortlessly vanquished. “He fights like a pussy ass bitch, to be honest. For your sake I really hope his dick hits better than his fists.”

“His dick is none of your business. And I won’t be getting any for a while now you’ve fucked him up like this,” you hiss, licking your lips, trying hard not to stare at the sweat on your BFF’s bare sculpted chest as it glistens and drips. Jax has just walked off from the scuffle without so much as a scratch; meanwhile your fuckboy was just owned out of his wits, clearly outmatched.

Jax brushes it off with a laugh, playfully slapping you on the back. “Look, he started the fight. Said I’d been checking you out all night.”

Yeah fucking right. You heave a sigh. “Why didn’t you just tell him he was wrong, then?”

“I’m a lot of things, Y/N. Liar ain’t one of ‘em,” he replies, leaning in toward you with a twisted little twinkle in his eyes.

He’s always been a shameless flirt—even with you, the girl he’s friend-zoned for forever. Though you know that he means nothing by the words, that doesn’t stop the wet hot fire he ignites between your thighs.

“That dress is way too short,” he mutters, as the fire in your cunt burns even hotter. “And way too tight. The whole damn world can see that pretty little ass of yours. But you already knew that, right? Like knowing every man here wants a piece of you tonight?”

Not every man, you wish you could snap back at Jax. Not the one I want. Before you can, some random slut comes up behind him and attacks, clingy hands clawing at his bulging biceps. “Hey there, champ. Can I get you cleaned up?”

“Sounds good, darlin’...” Jax readily accepts, turning toward you then. “Oh, one more thing—he said I could smack his girl’s ass if I win.”

“No he fucking didn’t...!” you attempt to protest, but then Jax slaps you through your dress and you let out a goddamn yelp. The slut inside you can’t be helped.

He grins back at you as he struts off with the skank that he’s going to fuck, clearly pleased with himself. And it feels like you’ve been run over by a truck. Being in love with your BFF Jax Fucking Teller is literal hell.

***************

“Hey, can we talk?”

You have no clue what just possessed you to come up to Jax’s dorm room uninvited. But whatever just compelled you to burst through the door—conveniently unlocked—you couldn’t fight it. It was probably the thought of yet another undeserving whore devouring his gorgeous cock. You’ve never seen it, but it’s not as if you have to see, to know Jax has the world’s most perfect penis. With a face, a body like his? Honestly. There’s no denying this. It’s straight up fucking science.

Thankfully, you came up fast enough that Jax and his bitch haven’t yet taken their clothes off. The bitch blinks up at you, agape—appalled—like you just barged in on their wedding day. You just glare daggers back at her from where you’re standing in the doorway. Sure, it’s immature; you really have no beef with her, and this is not her fault. Of course she takes your unexpected presence as an insult. But you can’t be brought to care right now. You need to be alone with Jax, and if that requires cock-blocking her ass, then that’s how.

He meets your gaze, those baby blues fucking you up in countless ways, and you might cum just from the eye contact. You are a desperate whore for Jax and that’s a fact.

“You should probably get out,” he tells the slut who’s straddling him in the bed. The poor girl can’t believe the words out of his mouth, but Jax said what he said. 

If there’s one good thing that comes of being his best friend, it’s that he treats you with a shitload of respect. Crow eaters mean nothing to him when you’re in the room. Then again, who the hell needs respect when you’d give it all up to become a dumpster for Jax Teller’s cum...?

With an indignant huff, the other woman grabs her stuff and storms out of his dorm, making sure to bump forcefully into your shoulder as she passes through the door. You really harbor no hard feelings for the poor unfortunate whore. Pity, for sure—must fucking suck to be her, being so suddenly deprived of a shot with Jax Teller. No doubt it would’ve been the best sex of her life, ever.

In any event, now that she’s left, you and your BFF are alone together.

Jax gets up from the bed, lazily raking a hand through the lustrous blonde hair on his head. Well aware that he’s covered in sweat. “I should, uh—hit the shower...”

“Nah, it’s fine,” you tell him, stepping inside and locking the door. Why did you lock it? Fuck it.

What you don’t tell him is that he smells fucking divine. How is it even possible for anyone to smell like heaven, in the state that he’s in? His smooth flawless skin is so slick with his sweat that it shimmers and shines and might seriously strike you blind.

He stands across from you with his hands on his hips, white waistband of his boxers sticking up above his jeans, tongue flicking out between his lips. Those hands that drive you fucking wild in your dreams, that tongue you’d sell your soul to suck. “So you wanted to talk?”

You clear your throat and bob your head in an attempt at a casual nod. Trying to come off as cool when you’re anything but. “Yeah, it’s just—I just wanted to vent, a little bit. About that thing you said... to be honest, fuckboy’s dick doesn’t hit better than his fists. The sex is always lame and plain vanilla and I’m sick of it. Even in bed, he’s a pussy ass bitch.”

Jax bites his lip, stifling back a silent laugh. Cleary quite glad—though not at all surprised—that he was right. “So he fucks the way he fights? Hey, so do I...”

You roll your eyes, playfully punching him in the side... which was a mistake because now you’ve made contact with his sweaty skin and it’s too much to take.

Needless to say, Jax takes the punch in stride. The smug smile on his face is miles wide. “Think it’s high time you dump his ass if he can’t keep you satisfied.”

Something about that fleeting skin-to-skin contact, and his closeness in this moment, and his maddening masculine scent, has you crazily pacing the room and saying all manner of shit that you’re doomed to regret. “And then what? Fuck around until another Son decides he wants to claim me as his own personal slut? It’s not like I can have the one I really want.”

You take a second to tune in to your own internal dialogue, currently scolding yourself for being so dumb—where the fuck are you going with this, you insane little cunt?

Jackson doesn’t seem to be having the same reaction. For unthinkable reasons, while standing there all godlike and glistening, he appears to be very sincerely listening. “You, um... got your eye on someone?”

“Always have,” you blurt out, and you really want to snap a goddamn bear trap over your moronic mouth.

Now Jax has you with your back up against the wall and you cannot think straight at all. Blonde hair and blue eyes and broad shoulders tower over you so tall. “Yeah? What’s he like?”

Oh, I don’t know, just look at your own beautiful reflection in my big wide stupid eyes. The thoughts you keep in silence are as stupid as your actual reply. “He has a really big... um... bike.”

The cheeky bastard laughs as if he knows you meant to talk about his dick. He probably did. But then again there’s something shy inside his eyes that makes it look as if he genuinely doesn’t know shit. “Now that’s not very specific. Come on, Y/N—just tell me who he is. You know there are no secrets between us.”

Yeah, sure, except the secret that I’m scientifically convinced of the perfection of your penis. Somehow you manage to take back some of your dignity right this instant, if only for a minute. “Mind your own motherfucking business.”

Jax is still doing that sincere listening thing and you quite honestly can’t handle it. He’s looking at you now as if you’re something breathtaking to witness. Just like he is. “Wow. You really like this guy, for serious.”

Heat rises to your face, insides melting to mush beneath his gaze. “That obvious?”

“You’re getting all worked up just thinking about him,” he notices, going on as if oblivious to the fact that it’s because he’s in the room. “He better be epic, whoever he is.”

Oh, you have no idea, Jax... “And why would you say that?”

Your brain physically breaks upon hearing the words he says next: “Because you’re fucking perfect. Deserve nothing less. You should be with the guy who can love you best. Fuck you best.”

Sweet mother of Jesus. What just even fucking happened? There’s a space between your lips and his, still—just a sliver, and it kills. The moment you give in to this your world is bound to end...

You know that much for certain; you and Jax tried going down this path just once before, so long ago that you’re determined to forget, the only moment of your friendship you regret. It’s never just a kiss. It’s always more, always a risk, of losing him. Of losing this. And you can’t let it happen again.

You’re fucking trembling, heartbeat fighting, but you have to say the right thing. Even if it hurts you more than anything. “Christ, Jax—‘fucking perfect’? You really mean that? As a... as a friend?”

The word weighs heavy on your tongue. No word has ever felt so wrong, but there it is, and he can taste the bitter heartbreak off your lips. Bites his and shakes his head. “Yeah, I guess. Just being honest. BFFs, what else?”

Love is literal hell.

And just like that, in a split instant, all the reasons he had so sincerely listened, anything that he had felt... is fucking gone. Or so he can pretend, at least. He always fakes it well, hiding behind the image of the savage sexy beast. “So what, we done?” he snaps, swiping his hand through his disheveled hair and casting you a cold blue stare. “I was about to get my dick wet, till you came up to complain about how your pussy ass fuckboy sucks in bed.”

You deal his chest a harder-than-just-playful punch because you seriously hate him just that much. “God, you don’t have to be a dick about it. Honestly, Jax, do you give a shit about anything other than sex?”

“Can’t live without it. Dick ain’t gonna suck itself.”

At this point the words are just flying all over the room. Nothing even makes sense. “Ugh—you know what, that’s the difference between you and him. You and everyone else.”

“What? That I fucking win?”

“That’s what you like to think. That you’re some kind of motherfucking king. Strutting around like you’re the god of everything.”

“Maybe I am. Takes balls to be the fucking champ.”

“Yeah, well, your balls can kiss my ass.”

... Oh fucking shit. Those words may have been just a little too... accurate. Now there’s an image in your head, a vivid image, and it’s... pretty fucking graphic. Pornographic. Fucking magic.

And of course Jax has to say the words to match it. “Bet you’d like that. Wouldn’t you, bitch.”

... Oh. Fucking. Shit.

***************

... Continued in Part 2!

Hope you enjoyed this and would love to hear if you did!! ❤️

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[certifiedskywalker]

Fett’s Foundling - Din Djarin

thewhitedannimal said: Hi! Could I request a mando x reader where the reader is also a skilled and famous mandalorian? They decide to work together and after sometime, the reader is impressed by mando and starts developing a noticeable crush on him, but mando thinks it’s cute and expresses his feelings? Tysm if u do, I love ur work!

AN: I kinda changed this up a bit. I hope you like it though! I think it turned out pretty well!

WARNING: SEASON 2 SPOILERS!!! and mentions of terrorism (Star Wars terrorism but still)

“You’re sure about this?”

Boba’s dark eyes were cold and searching as he held your gaze. The lines of his face, including those carved into his skin by the Snarlacc’s digestive acid, were creased as he tried to read you. You imagined you looked about the same as him, but less scarred. Brow furrowed, lips thin, and expression stern. You were, after all, Fett’s foundling. 

“Are you sure about this? After all, we’ve been through a lot together. You might find that you miss me, go all soft on me, old man.”

At your teasing, the coldness in Boba’s tense features melted away. His mouth quirked upwards in one of his rare, closed-lipped smiles. The smile was a welcomed change of pace; the only hint of joy to be found on Moff Gideon’s freshly captured, Imperial light cruiser. Out of the corner of your eye you caught Bo-Katan looking grim, head ducked down in conservation with her subordinate. She had been whispering since the Jedi left, eyes darting around the bridge in search of the Darksaber. 

You glanced around too, but found that the ancient relic was nowhere to be found. Neither was Din Djarin. 

“And you say I’m going soft,” Boba scoffed, pulling your attention back to him. “You’re tied to him like a Kowakian monkey-lizard to a Hutt. Pathetic joke of a creature.”

“You would be the only one to think that,” you countered, “and the first to know that you’re wrong.” It wasn’t a threat. It was the truth. 

Boba had found you as a child who, much like himself, was stranded on Tatooine, doomed to the wastes baked by the twin suns. Both of you had been lost, outsiders to an outside world. Then Boba found his way back to the way of the Mandalore and brought you with him. He taught you to be a warrior and the two of you took odd jobs for odd people.

All the while, Boba searched for his armor and, with his help and scraps of lost battle gear, you had begun to forge your own. Eventually, you forged a name for yourself. So, it surprised him when you had, many cycles past, asked Boba if you could use his: Fett. It had stuck and you had stuck together, through it all. Though now…

“Not pathetic,” Boba finally conceded, “but you’re tied to him. Any being can see it.”

Warmth spread through your body and over your skin like a blaster bolt singe. Tightness gathered in your jaw, forced your teeth together like a vice. To ebb the sting promised by further embarrassment, you tore your eyes from Boba’s, unwilling to let him see deeper in your heart and mind. He knew you too well and you knew him too well. The two of you knew what the other was after and how those paths no longer lined up together.

“You don’t have to ask for my permission to leave.” At his words, you lifted your gaze back to Boba’s. “All I ask is that you give your allegiance to no one-” 

You roll your eyes at his words. “I know my value, my ideals. I’d never compromise either.”

Boba shook his head and leaned closer to you. Between you, he extended his hand. Your eyes glanced from his empty, open hand to his face a few times before he finally spoke up. 

“-unless they prove to you that your life is more important than their own.”

“I don’t…”

Shock. You remembered the feeling from your first gunfight. All those cycles ago, when you were lost on Tatooine. It had been so long since something had truly rattled you. For it to be Boba’s words, the man who taught you to push shock and fear off to the wayside, you were left all the more shaken.

“From what I’ve seen, that Mandalorian is as honorable as an ex-bounty hunter can be.” 

Boba gives you another closed-lipped smile. In your silence, you glance down at his hand again. You see him move it towards you, like an offering. Without another moment's hesitation, you move to rest your hand on his armored forearm. You feel his fingers on your own arm give a gentle squeeze before you meet his eyes again.

“You take care of yourself.”

Before you can return the sentiment, Boba pulls you in from your arm and into a tight embrace. Shock, again, freezes you, turns your limbs to carbonite for longer than you care to acknowledge. Boba’s embrace melts you free from it. You wrap your arms over his shoulders and hold to him as you did during that first gunfight. 

“You too,” you whisper, your voice small enough to packed into a pulse rifle. You pull away before you let yourself melt away with the shock. “And tell me when you take Tatooine.”

“Of course,” Boba nods his head at you and glanced to his left. You follow his eyeline and see Fennec. Her lips quirk upwards when you meet her gaze.

“Watch the little duchess. She wants that laser sword.”

“I will.”

Fennec nods before she turns her attention to Boba. As if he never took it off, Boba’s helmet is already on. The dark visor focuses on you for one last moment before he starts off towards the bridge exit, Fennec on his heels. You watch the pair go for a moment, mentally tracking their path to the hangar where the Slave I rests in wait. At the thought of the old beast, your chest aches. The discomfort lingers only slightly as you turn your back on the only life you had known and to the darkness of space shown through the viewport.

“Fett, what a legacy.” 

Your body tenses at the sound of Gideon’s low voice. When you turn your eyes over to where he is bound, you see dark eyes locked on you like a TIE target. 

“To throw that all away for a dangerous sect of disenfranchised Mandalorians.”

“I am Mandalorian,” you said, starting towards him. Each step you take is with purpose, calculated to reach the total sum of Gideon’s fear. You see how his eyes widen slightly and feel a rush of satisfaction further dulls the ache of Boba leaving; of you staying. “And, the last time I watched the holonews, it seemed that the New Republic labeled your broken Empire as a terrorist sect, disenfranchised from power rather than freedom.”

Gideon shifted, his cape collecting more dust and wrinkles as it rested on the floor with him. He opened his mouth to speak but you quickly turned to Cara. She was smiling, watching Gideon flounder. When she raised her eyes to yours, she grinned.

“That may be the most I’ve ever heard a Mandalorian talk in one go. Mando is always so...quiet.”

“Speaking of,” you glanced back at Bo-Katan and saw her eyes on you. In the hopes she wouldn’t hear, you leaned closer to Cara. “Where is he?”

“He walked off the bridge when the Jedi left with the kid. He went down the hall and to the left.” You nodded at her in thanks and glanced down at a scowling Gideon.

“I think the bindings should be tighter,” you said before walking off in the same direction as Din. With every entrance of new hallway you walked past, you peered into each, searching for him. He had been rocked, set a kilter by the Jedi that had stormed in for a rescue. 

He had lost the only family he had known, just as you had decided to let yours go. You could feel your own loneliness creeping up your spine and could only imagine that he felt the same doom sneaking after him. Despite being a hunter, you knew that you could not save him from that feeling, just as you could not entirely save yourself. Though, maybe, you could keep each other’s company and scare off the dark together.

The thought made you cringe. Boba was right: you were tied to Din. Pathetically stuck to him, nearly a stranger; but a stranger with skill. On Tython, you had seen him fight off a few Stormtroopers before running after the Child. He had bested a Darktrooper too, from what Cara had gotten Gideon to admit. He was a stranger with heart too.

A stranger willing to break his Creed, the oath he asked if you and Boba had taken, to say a true goodbye to the Child. In the moment, you didn’t catch a good look at his features. You saw only his head of dark brown hair and the curved tanned skin of his cheek. His looks don't matter to you though. You were already taken by him, from the moment he stood up to Boba on Tython, was ready to lie his life down for his Child. 

You were so lost in the memory that you nearly overlooked the shine of his beskar in an abandoned meeting room. Silver casted in his armor, Din was starkly outlined against the blackness of space that shown outside the viewpoint. His helmet was still off, held tight in his left hand. The sight felt sacred, as if it were wrong for you to be looking at even the back of his exposed head.

“You can come in.” While he was only a few paces away from you, Din’s voice sounded far off. Slowly, you took a step inside before taking pause.

“Do you want me to walk in backwards?” Despite the seriousness in your tone, you hear a small, breathy chuckle from Din’s direction. “I’m just trying to be cautious.”

“It’s appreciated,” Din said and, much to your surprised, you watched as he turned his head. In the dark of the Imperial meeting room, it was hard to make out his features but you could feel him looking at you. “But not necessary. Not anymore, not right now.”

Defeat was plain and heavy in his voice. You were familiar with the weight of it, having heard it in your own after your first, and only, failed bounty. Slowly still, you started towards Din again. As you moved, you catch Din’s head turn back to face the stars. Closer now, you sneak a glimpse at the side of his face before settling at his side.

He was handsome, a word you thought you would never use before. Granted, on Tatooine, there weren’t many beings you felt adequately captured the essence of the word. Din, however, with his strong, curved nose and scruff-covered jaw fit the bounty. Not to mention the dark of his eyes that looked like empty space itself. Full of mystery, Din’s eyes were, and you were ready to dive right in. 

Then Boba’s words echoed in your head. Any being can see it. At Din’s side, you forced your body still. Movement, nervousness that only Din could spark in you, could make your feelings all the more obvious. Now was not the time for that.

“You miss him already.”

“Yeah.” You snuck a glance at Din. His eyes were fixed on the view port, distant, like his voice. It was like he was trying to chase after the Child but was lost in space. You had no idea what to say to ease his search, his pain. Luckily, you didn’t have to.

A fast whoosh sounded out from the hangar below and distracted both you and Din from others presence. Roaring of a familiar engine reached your ears and, as quickly at you recognized it, the Slave I shot out of the light cruiser hold. Silently, like a swift and stalking hunter, the ship you were raised on rushed away. You watched it go until your lost the shape of it, saw it meld with the stars. It was then you felt the hairs on the back of your neck rise.

You looked over at Din and found that he was facing you now. Features once hidden under layers of beskar were now on full display. Din looked older than you imagined. There were strands of grey in his hair and patches in his scruff. Crows feet crinkles were gathered in the corners of his eyes; though it couldn’t be because he smiled so often, not with a life like his. Not with a life like yours, like all other Mandalorians. 

“You didn’t go?” Concern, in his voice and in his brown eyes, warmed your chest. You could only nod in response. “Fett, what are you doing?”

“Making my own way, like all Foundlings must.” Unable to hold yourself back, you nudge softly Din with your elbow. “Like you are. What you did was brave, even if it broke your rules.”

“You inspired me,” Din said, his voice nestled closer now around you. You held his gaze with a quirked brow, entreating him to continue. “Remember what you said on Morak before Mayfield and I went in?”

“‘Don’t get killed’ wasn’t it?” 

For the first time, you see Din smile. It’s not like Boba’s smile, the only other Mandalorian you had known. Din’s smile showed his teeth, even if it wasn’t for more than a second. Lines in his face grew more pronounced around his lips. You forced yourself to look away from his mouth and back out of the view port.

“No, I don’t remember.”

“You were talking to Boba. He said I wouldn’t break the Creed, even for the kid, if I had to. You said that I would, that my heart was in the fight.”

Want edged Din’s voice, powerful enough to get you to look up at him once more. His dark eyes were on you still and you don’t think they ever left. They dropped from your eyes to your lips and back again. As small as the shifting glance was, it was enough to tickle your stomach. You had to force yourself to stay still and quiet.

“You were right.”

“I am, most of the time, you’ll find,” you say breathlessly. It’s all you can manage.  

“Is that why you’re sticking around?”

“What?” You lick your lips nervously and curse yourself for it. 

“Because your heart is in this fight,” Din extends his hand as he speaks. In his open, gloved palm, the hilt of the Darksaber rested. You hadn’t truly even entertained the weapon, what it meant and stood for. Instead, your mind was clouded with Din, with want.

“In a sense.” 

Din raised his brows at you. “That’s a Guild answer. A hunter answer. Give me yours.”

You already know it, you want to say but you held your tongue back. Silence, tense and unyielding, fell over the two of you. Din held your gaze, not backing down on his request. It had taken him a few minutes, but he had found his confidence without the helmet. You smiled at the thought; he was a true Mandalorian. A sense of ease overwhelmed you, made you too comfortable and your tongue too loose.

“My heart is in the hands of the fighter.” 

You reached your hand over and pushed Din’s fingers closed over the hilt of the Darksaber. For a moment, you fingers lingered over his. You savored the warmth before pulling away. Finding enough courage, you held Din’s gaze again and felt your fear dissipate.

“But I think he knows that already.”

Din swallowed hard before replying, “he does.”

Burnt by embarrassment, you took a step back from him. Just as you were about to take another, dismiss yourself from the conversation and your ultimate rejection, there was a clang. You watched as Din’s helmet hit the floor and as he reached his newly free hand out. His gloved fingers wrapped around your wrist and pulled you back. You took not of his eyes again, how they flicked between yours and your lips. Was he nervous too?

“And he feels the same.”

“You-”

“I feel the same,” Din clarified, eyes focused solely on your face. 

Then, it was just the two of you again. Two Foundlings once lost then found again by the other. Wed to the fight but tied to each other. This was the way, wasn’t it? You felt sure it was.

When Din bent down and captured your lips with his, you felt all the more strongly about it. Whatever way, whatever path Din followed, you would be close behind. You were two bounty hunters, fallen from grace and into a world unprepared for what would follow.

#din djarin x reader #din djarin imagine #din djarin imagines #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin fanfic #mando x reader #mando imagine #mando imagines #mando fanfiction #mando fanfic #the mandalorian #the mandalorian imagines #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #boba fett #the child #star wars #star wars imagine #star wars imagines #star wars fanfiction #star wars fanfic

[novelconcepts]

So the Bly ending is written where Dani is doomed to return to the lake. What would your alternative fanfic ending look like where she (and/or Jaime) overcame this, or Dani didn’t have to die? Is that okay ask?

The universe is vast and sprawling, infinite. Every story has its repercussions, events laid out end to end, a preordained path. Every teller must, as consequence of shaping the tale, admit to one endpoint as its required result. A story is possessed of a beginning, middle, end. 

But, not every end is singular. 

The universe is vast, sprawling, infinite. And tiny details rearrange enormous conclusions. 

Jamie wakes early most mornings; Jamie is a morning person, tried and true, good at being awake before most people are willing to condone the action. Morning is when conversation is least likely to sneak up on a person, when someone is allowed to simply be alone with whatever thoughts they please, without explanation. She was good at it before Dani Clayton strode into her life, and she’s been arguably better at it ever since. 

This morning, the morning of the greatest consequence in maybe their entire life together, Jamie wakes earlier than most. The sky is still dark outside their bedroom window, the world still muddled and whispering around the apartment. Birds have not yet taken to their morning rituals. The sun is miles away. 

And Dani is starting to stir. 

Jamie sits up, leaning back against the pillows, and watches as her wife--lips parted in a silent snore, hand tossed across Jamie like it was made to rest there--raises her head. Turns it, ever so slightly, in Jamie’s direction. She makes to whisper something in return--good morning, or go back to sleep, or I love you--but Dani’s face is slack. There’s no sign of activity about the expression, no sign that she’s doing this of her own free will. 

At first, it’s almost funny. Watching Dani slide across the bed toward her, bemused as she drapes a leg over Jamie’s lap and settles her weight like a queen upon a throne. There’s something decidedly not-Dani about the action; Dani laughs when she climbs to a position like this, self-consciousness and delight mixing on her pretty face. This Dani, this sleepwalking variant, moves like something is pulling the strings from a terrible distance. 

And it hurt, Jamie thinks for no reason at all, a parody of an eleven-year-old boy in her still-waking mind. She raises her eyebrows, lets her hands settle on Dani’s hips, watches her wife just...sit there. Astride her in a red sleep shirt and no sign of consciousness. 

It is, if she’s honest with herself, more than a touch eerie. 

When Dani’s arm raises, it’s the slowest thing Jamie’s ever watched. Like a mechanical thing, like an automaton not yet ready for practice, Dani’s arm shifts, elbow bending, releasing, extending. Her hand, Jamie realizes belatedly, is forming a sort of loose claw shape. 

There is a universe, she thinks, where Dani’s hand continues its arc across calm night air and makes its predestined landing. A universe where those fingers she knows so well, the ones that tickle and trace and hold tight to her each day as the world gets harder and harder to occupy, clutch around Jamie’s windpipe. There is a universe where this, this final moment, is where Dani’s belated beast in the jungle finally makes its move. 

“Right, then,” Jamie says, so softly she barely hears the words herself. “We need to talk.”

Dani’s hand...pauses. Mid-flight, stretched out, her other braced against Jamie’s shoulder for balance, and her eyes don’t open. Jamie’s relieved. If Dani were to wake like this, if Dani were to feel just how close to the edge she really is--and Jamie’s the first to insist it isn’t so, but sometimes you just need to know when to say when--things would go differently. Things could go very badly indeed. 

Dani doesn’t wake. Jamie, carefully, stretches out her own hand. The left one, the one honored with a gold band that marks lifelong love, friendship, loyalty. She wraps her fingers around the wrist that does not, in this moment, seem to belong to Dani Clayton at all. 

“It’s you, then,” Jamie says softly. Her voice is raw, deeper than its normal cadence with early morning rasp. “Isn’t it?”

Dani’s head...tilts. Just a little, like she’s listening. Or, more accurately, like someone else is listening from inside. 

“You, waking at last,” Jamie goes on. Dani’s head...nods. Just a little. Barely anything at all, and if Jamie weren’t looking for it, maybe she’d think it was a fit of shadows. 

“You,” she says, “thinking you get to claim your prize.”

Dani doesn’t move. Jamie sits up a little more, shifting Dani’s weight atop her, careful not to jar. She leans closer to Dani’s face, one hand still holding the offending wrist, the other sliding up the side of Dani’s neck with tender care. She rests her fingers along the span of Dani’s jaw, gentle as she’s ever known how to be. This is a moment for gentle. This is a moment for infinite care. 

“I’ve read your story,” she says to the beast in the jungle. She hasn’t told Dani just how far down that particular rabbit hole she’s slid. They've talked about some of it, about the strange dreams Dani feels certain are more than nighttime fabrications. About locked trunks and lost daughters and loneliness. But there’s more to any ghost story than the echoes of misery, and one day, with Dani out on errands, she made a call to an old friend across the pond. And then another. And another, following leads, old voices spinning older stories with just enough sources behind them that they really did constitute history. 

Henry Wingrave will never know the gift he granted, taking her call that day, arming her this way. He never needs to. Jamie’s grateful enough. 

“I know what happened to you,” she says now, her fingers cupping Dani’s face like on a thousand other nights. “I know about your husband.”

Something in Dani’s face seems to shiver. Jamie presses on.

“I know about your sister.”

Something in Dani’s brow seems to harden. Jamie is undeterred. 

“I know you know what love is. No. I know you know devotion. You do, don’t you? That word. It’s everything.”

Dani’s head is still, her eyes closed, but Jamie senses the thing puppeteering her body is listening very, very intently. She nods. She isn’t smiling, isn’t making a game of this. There is such a thing as last chances, and Jamie knows better than most what those look like. 

“You understand. Because you and I, I think we speak the same language, when it’s all on the table. Devotion. It’s the reason we’re here. It’s the engine we, you and I, run on. Isn’t it?”

Dani’s head...nods. A little harder this time. Like the thing inside, hands on the controls, is really beginning to figure out all those little buttons and knobs. Jamie swallows. Faster, then. Time is running shy. 

“You understand, then, why I can’t let you have her.”

A pause. The wrist in her grasp flexes, fingers twitching toward a fist. Jamie twists her grip slightly, lets her thumb run soft along Dani’s skin, and those fingers relax. 

“I know. I know you’ve been through it. I can see that. But she...is everything. She’s my world. And I know you know what that feels like. So, I’m not...gonna beg. I’m not gonna sit here on my knees and plead with you, because I think you and I both know that isn’t worth a whit of your respect. I’m just gonna say it. All right?

“This,” she says. “Her. She stays. S’not me begging. S’me saying exactly how it is. She. Stays.”

Dani’s body sits for a moment, frozen, and Jamie thinks she’s misplayed those cards. That Dani’s hands will shoot for her throat again, and this time, they will finish what they woke this morning to start. 

“I?” Dani’s voice sounds wrong. Distant. Like a sleepwalker mouthing dreamspeech. Jamie doesn’t think she’s imagining the very light tinge of accent--nothing like the silly dialect butchering Dani likes to do when she’s poking fun at Jamie. “What of me?”

“That,” Jamie says through a mouth so dry, she could lean over the side of the bed and vomit, “is between you and yours. I’m not gonna tell you again, though. This one. She stays.”

“Ends,” the voice that isn’t Dani’s whispers. “Everything.”

“Yes.” Tears, pricking Jamie’s eyes, do not match the smile moving to rest upon her lips. “Yes. It does. Eventually. But we have time, she and I. We have so much time. And...when it’s over?”

“Yes,” the voice breathes. There’s something horribly wanton behind the word. Jamie swallows. 

“When it’s over, we go back. Her and I. Back to where it all started. Your place. Your home. You won’t be alone, not anymore, but first...we get this. You give us this. She carried you out of that place without anyone asking, least of all me, and she’ll carry you for the rest of her life because Christ knows she won’t give you up for anyone else to bear. But that’s enough. You hear? It’s enough. It’s you, and it’s us, but not yet. Not until we’re ready.”

“Life,” the voice says, almost scornfully. “Never ready.”

“We,” Jamie hisses, “will be. One day. When we’re old and withered, when my hair’s gone snow-side and her eyes aren’t so good anymore, when we’re all out of beautiful boredom and all that’s left is to go holding her hand all the way to the other side. Then. We’ll sleep at Bly one last time, and we’ll wake together, and we’ll walk. As long as you like. We will. But.”

“Not yet,” the voice says. Jamie isn’t imagining the resolution in the words, she’s sure. “Not yet.”

“And until then,” Jamie adds, leaning forward until her forehead is nearly flush with Dani’s. “Until then, you leave her be. You hear me? No more reflections. No more shaking her loose until she can’t feel me beside her. You go back to sleep, and you stay asleep until you feel the pull of that old house again. Are we of an accord?”

Old-fashioned words for an old-fashioned oath, and oh, if this doesn’t work, Jamie’s got nothing left. She isn’t one for pretty language. She isn’t one for negotiation. 

But she is, always will be, Dani’s. Dani’s champion. Dani’s partner. Dani’s rock. 

“Yes,” the voice says at last, the voice of a Lady so old and so long-buried, it’s a wonder there’s anything left of her at all. Jamie nods, pushing her head against the smooth skin of Dani’s, her hand coming up to cup the back of her hair. 

“Then I think it’s time we said goodnight.”

“Jamie?” The word wavers. Dani seems to fall against her, like whatever was holding her up has finally come loose. Jamie, prepared, holds fast, holds soft, holds and presses their lips together. 

“Just a bad dream, Poppins,” she says. “Just a strange bad dream.”

“I was dreaming,” Dani repeats, waking in a slow rolling wave. “I was dreaming of...moonflowers. Of that night. Of the way you...”

Jamie kisses her again, channeling everything of that night she can into the act, holding her close and praying she can’t feel the way Jamie’s heart careens and crashes inside her chest. Dani, bewildered, kisses back with soft little whimpers, her knees clamped tight around Jamie’s hips. 

They’ll go back to bed soon enough, Dani’s head on her chest, Dani’s fingers fisted tight around the loose-buttoned flannel of her shirt. Dani will breathe in and out, soft, slow, and Jamie will lay awake. Waiting for a sign. Waiting for any kind of sign that this pact was not well enough made. 

But the beast in the jungle will give no sign of life. No sign at all. Dani will sleep, and Jamie will tangle a hand in her hair and hold fast, and when morning comes properly...it’s just another morning. Sunrise and birdsong and plants to water. 

And, she’ll think, when Dani rises and sleepily makes her way toward a hot shower, her eyes will look clearer than they have in months. 

“Good, Poppins?”

Dani, like one granted a reprieve they can’t quite put a finger on, will smile. A real smile, honest and clear, dimples and delight. 

“Feels like a nice morning, doesn’t it?”

She’ll vanish into the bathroom, leaving the door open in wordless invitation, and Jamie, finally, will exhale. 

#the haunting of bly manor #the haunting of bly manor spoilers #fanfiction #dani x jamie #fix-it fic #I hope this is what you were looking for #I woke up with it ringing in my head #jamie x dani

[mystic-poet]

ROGUE PATHS

I wake up to find myself handcuffed to the hospital bed. The drug they injected me with to tame me seems to be wearing off. Ugh! This again. Better to get it over with, I guess. I drag my free hand into my bun and retrieve a small blade. As usual the dumb police never bothered to check in there thinking a man’s bun would just be a fashion statement. I twist to my side and turn the blade in the keyhole clockwise. My hand comes free. I learnt to pick locks when I was young, one of my many talents. I shake my hand hard to get rid of the stiffness and get up from the bed.

I stride confidently straight towards the door, not in the sneaky kind like a criminal would. As expected, a police officer stands at guard. His lips are on the verge of screaming when I silence him by waving a hundred bucks in front of his eyes. He raises his eyebrows at me and I throw in another four hundred to satisfy his thirst. That ought to shut him up. Money! The most deadly weapon and beautiful thing anyone can ever have.

□□□

Outside the hospital waits Beth. She teaches German in Crawford High. Well, it would be safe to say she taught me the art of viciousness. If angels can house demons, there isn’t any harm in a teacher being an evil mastermind.

“They shot you pretty bad in that leg, huh?” she says as I limp on one good leg. She gives me a look that was overflowing with pity. How I hate that!

“Enough with the puppy eyes already!” I snap. My right leg was hurting real bad and I would have stayed in the hospital until they mended it and made my grand escape later but I won’t want to deprive the world of its foul folks. Besides, I have business to finish.

“I must say, I didn’t expect you to be in the hospital,” Beth says unlocking her car and we sit in.

“They shot my leg in the encounter at the bank and I was losing blood by the second. Couldn’t get much out of me while I was thrashing in pain,” I explain.

“Did you find anything at the bank?” Beth asks raising an eyebrow at me as she drives the car out of the parking lot.

“I was close to. The property papers were in my hands before the cops caught up with me. Couldn’t read a word.”

“So, what are going to do? Got anything up your sleeves?”

“Well, I do. I am going to father’s house this Wednesday,” I say coolly.

“You do know that’s two days away, don’t you?”

“I have thought it through. You’ll see,” I say grinning.

Beth shakes her head. “Just remember I need my share of the money, Carl.”

“We talked about this a million times, Beth. You’ll get your forty percent,” I say casually leaning into the passenger’s seat.

□□□

My dad abandoned me when I was a teen. He is the owner of a multinational electronic company my late grandpa founded. Beth was the assistant manager. She was a frequent visitor in thehouse and shared a fine bond with dad until one day, she was fired when my dad accused her of a theft she never committed or so she told me.

When I was old enough, I tracked her down and discovered that she craved revenge with dad for all the wrongs done to her. She wanted to blow the lid off and reveal all the dark secrets behind dad’s firm. In a way, our common want of vengeance united us.

My dad is stinking rich whereas I was left in some community home and survived off donations. This is why I despise pity; I have lived with it all my life. I have my rightful place in the company and the fortune my grandpa left behind. But I need theofficial documents and my one chance of getting them from the bank slipped away. That’s where the part of infiltrating his house comes in. Ah! It’s been such long while since I did something of this kind. Infiltrating seems such a gorgeous word now.

□□□

“So, how are we doing it?” asks Beth pouring two glasses of red wine for the both of us. She drove us to her house for it’s probably the safest place to be.

“He is hosting some success party on Wednesday and there’s bound to be security. My idea is to go through as delivery persons. The rest will follow. You will tip toe to the computer room while I put up some distraction. I will catch up with you soon enough. Till then, find the papers,” I instruct taking a swig from my glass.

“It won’t be that simple, you know,” she says with a smirk.

“I was thinking you need that forty percent,” I say with mock seriousness.

“Fine!” she says exasperated. How I love when I am obeyed.

□□□

We are wheeling the cart that supposedly holds the cake but instead I just stuffed it with a wad of cotton. I ring the bell of the grand house with Beth beside me. The housekeeper, a woman in maybe in her thirties, opens the door. She gestures to where the cake should be kept. I look around at the magnificence of the place and its each and every adornment and decoration, from the mahogany coffee table to the velvet curtains and even the intricate designs on the glass vases, conveyed royalty. I feel a rush of hatred inside me. My father enjoyed all the money at his disposal and lived in comfort with rugs beneath his feet whereas I tossed and turned with unease in my bed every night wondering if my parents would ever make their way back to me. At least my mother passed away before she witnessed the return of her abandoned son.

“You know what to do,” I whisper in Beth’s ear. She nodded. I take my blade out and make a shallow cut in the back of my hand oozing out blood. That blade is indeed a good partner. I pocket it as swiftly as I took it out.

“Oh, I am bleeding. I am bleeding,” I say dramatically and hold my hand out purposefully for everyone to see the scarlet covering it.

“Oh dear, God. I will fetch you some ice from the kitchens,” the housekeeper says and disappears into a corridor. That’s the thing about kind people; they are easy prey.

I signal to Beth and she sets off in a half-walk and half-run up the stairs. She knows the way to the computer room from all those years of coming to dinners and teas in the house. As she turns into the corner, I rush behind her too wiping the blood on my pants.

I catch up with her soon enough as she looks straight ahead navigating through the rich corridor filled with a few guests. I walk behind her maintaining a safe distance; we can’t afford to attract any attention.

We walk into a long deserted hallway. I am sure the computer room is here and so does Beth, I suppose, as she carefully notices each door. She comes to an abrupt stop in front of the door at the far end of the hallway and opens it without a glance at me. In the middle of the room sits a computer that would be the cause of my dad’s doom. Beth turns it on and gets to work as I stand at the door occasionally peaking in. I was afraid it might have a password but it didn’t. Arrogance! Father must be sure no one could evade his computer. Well, I guess history is being made today.

“Do it quick!” I hiss at her.

“Does it look like I am not trying?” she says making an irritated face at me.

We are silent for five minutes or so when Beth says, “Carl, I found them!”

A smirk creeps across my face. “Transfer it to me. All of it,” I say in an excited whisper.

Beth turns back to the computer and presses send. The next few moments go by as quickly as the blink of an eye. I lock Beth in the computer room and somewhere a safety alarm triggers deafening my ears. I hear her muffled screams calling out to meechoing in the hallway but without looking back I descend the two flights of stairs.

I bump into the security on a landing and adopting my best worried voice I say, “A woman in the computer room. Upstairs.” The words barely escape my mouth and they run upstairs to find the trespasser while I walk out of the mansion with satisfaction.

Indeed, Beth taught me too much than she should have. Call me selfish but that’s what the world made me. I couldn’t have let Beth have forty per cent. After all, what would she do with it in jail? As for my father this episode would definitely motivate him to set a computer password. I whistle walking on the road thinking of the colour my bungalow would be.

Tagging:

@ruins-of-heart @witchpossessinghozier @some-broken-words @sinless-mind @luck1998 @ze-thoughts-are-stupid @random-lit @saamiya @colinisalright @thunder19sstuff @yalocal-deadpoet @asthetically-bookish @literature-is-my-religion @mrun-v @songfromstars @donapreachesart @i-snort-chocolates @duskobserver @apprielle24 @halfagonyhalfhop3 @klainebrittana @ray-of-darkness7 @balladofableedingpoet2112 @morticiapretz @vantaerayleigh1997 @sillylilbakaaa @church-of-burnt-romances @burn-like-starss @mjsespaces-blog @theleechwhodrinksbleach

Thank you so much for giving this a read dears!

Comments, criticism and suggestions are always welcome <3!!!

#story writing #spilled writing #writers and writing #poets and writers #writers on tumblr #writers and readers #writers community #writers and poets #story

[starshipsofstarlord]

World Revelations

@etherealsxnder​

Warnings; spoilers for season 13, mentions of death, angst, lack of hope, some Alex Calvert x reader, and tiny bit of jack x reader, swearing, brief illusions to sex, angry brothers, mentions of a sex scene, insecurities, online hate, protective winchester brothers, apocalypse world, major character death, lucifer

(Y/A/N) – Your Acting Name.

A/N; it’s a little bit different from the request, so sorry about that, but I hope that any one that reads this enjoys. Also sorry about the wait, I had bad writers block, but when I started writing this it sorta figured itself out and I may have got carried away. Feel free to tell me what you think ☺️

“Look, I am not going to some other world to help stop Michael. But I can help you in another way, one where none of us get harmed.” Gabriel shrugged, reducing Sam’s expression to confusion. The archangel had felt like their last hope at retrieving their mother, into delving into the apocalypse world, and here he was, turning him down.

 He had tried his very best to make the celestial being better, and here he was, talking again, able to use his grace rather than have it removed and syringed into a demon’s veins. However, he still refused, and the hunter had no other plan in forcing Gabriel into helping. This was the last shot, and it had been blown.

 But however could he still help? This was the primary problem that had to be solved, there was no other route they could take to bring their family back together. And that was all that mattered in this life, saving people, remaining together.

 “What are you talking ab-“ Before Sam could complete his question, Gabriel set him with a poised glare, and snapped his magical fingers, a spark of electric blue grace sparking from the action. That was all Sam saw before he felt himself transported, and once he opened his eyes, he remained in the bunker, however there were cameras around him, and an entire filming crew.

 Gabriel had sent him to the other life, another world in which he presumed that he was called Jared. “What the hell Sammy?” Dean barked from beside him, twisting and turning his sights around, upon realising that although this looked like their home, it was an alternate version of it. A set, made of fake walls and truthless literature that was not at all necessary in this peaceful, monster-less realm. “Son of a bitch!”

 “Cut!” One of the cameramen called out, shaking his head exasperatedly at the line said wrong. Jensen had been doing so well, and Jensen seemed to have slipped far too into character, to the point where he had forgotten his lines. “Do you need to see the script again, or would you rather take a short break?”

 “I’ll go for the break.” Dean confirmed, grabbing Sam’s forearm and hastily dragging him from the onlookers, and towards which he assumed was his, well, Jensen’s trailer. It looked pretty much the same as last time. “Gabriel?” He asked, rightly assuming that the blame of this mishap ordeal was down to the glowing figure.

 “He refused to help us open a rift.” Sam licked his lips, his eyes jutting around the luxurious space. “And then he snapped his fingers, and we were here.” Here, another earth. However this was not their home, it was a disfigured writing of it, if anything, it was worse than the books Chuck wrote. There were more fans, and more complications that came along with being here in place of the actors.

 “We don’t have time for his tricks.” Sighed Dean, raking his hair with his rough hand. “Parading around as a painted whore is not on my agenda, all I care about is getting mum back, we have to get home quick.”

 “Dean, I don’t think that this is a trick…” Sam spoke to his elder brother, in thought of Gabriel’s words. “He said he could help us in another way. I don’t think he meant taking us away from the problem, there must be something else.” No matter how much he rolled the idea around his head, he could come to no conclusion.

 “What?” There was already plenty on the man’s mind, he didn’t need another incident coming their way. Dean was to begin speaking again, until a knock rapped against the door to his double’s trailer, intruding his mindset. Him and Sam shared a glance and frown until Dean called whomever was on the other side in, and to their dismay, he looked exactly like Castiel.

 Misha Collins. Last time they had visited this place, he had died, but the return of the real selves must have somewhat fixed the timeline, he looked well, even if he still was dressed as their angelic friend. “Hey, I was seeing if you are ready for the scene tomorrow.”

 “Scene? Which scene?” ‘Jared’ asked the colleague of his false identity, unaware of the context in which Misha spoke in. Dean only huffed and rolled his eyes, until Misha spoke, and he froze, both the brothers understanding Gabriel’s meaning for sending them to this world.

 “(Y/N)’s death scene. Apparently it’s gonna be quite emotional, and it’ll be strange after, not having the kid on set anymore.” It was a revelation, a nightmare that foreshadowed the truth in their own dimension.

 “Thanks uh- Misha.” ‘Jensen’ rubbed his hand over his face, shocked by the oncoming doom. They had already lost far too many members in their makeshift hunter family, but this was different. This was their sister, whom they had protected and vouched to continue doing since the day she was born. And now the universe had this grand plan of cutting her young life short, and sending her to either heaven or hell, where so many people they loved already were.

 “Do you know where um, (Y/A/N) is right now?” Sam asked, desperate to somehow convince her to remain on the show. It was the only way in which he could save his younger sibling, and he would, by the gods, do anything that he possibly could. Him and Dean had already had meetings with death himself, he couldn’t allow the new version to come and take you.

 Billy would not compromise, she was intent on having a Winchester under her cloak, forever taken from life, never to return to the living. And they couldn’t take a chance, any chance on not getting (Y/N) back, she was a legacy as were they, but she was supposed to live on for longer. Their names would otherwise be nothing more than memories in the world of hunters, until they faded into distant and dead members of the community.

 “In her trailer, I think. She’s rehearsing with Alexander I think.” The name that he mentioned was unfamiliar to the unfitting pair, but they spared no thought to it. Instead they sent him a quick smile before leaving the confines that they felt trapped in, and began their search for the actress of their sister.

 “We have to change her mind Sammy. If she stays on the show, then our (Y/N) lives. It is the simplest solution.” Dean spoke as they walked through the lines of trailers, unable to find the name that they were searching for on any door. “Where the hell is her damn trailer?”

 Sam squinted, until a name he had heard was seen on one of the doors. Alexander, whoever that was. Before he could even put any thought into his actions, he subconsciously knocked on the door, waiting a moment for an answer. And when the door opened, they were met with who looked like Jack, his hair a mess, and his shirt hanging over his shoulder, clearly put on in panic.

 “What’s up guys, need something?” He scratched the back of his neck, impatient with the situation, considering the one that he had been interrupted from. A part of him feared that this was one of Jared’s infamous pranks, he had mostly been on the end of shifted lines, but worse could have been heading his way for all he knew.

 Dean frowned at the sight of young man, it hardly felt right seeing the innocent boy that they knew with sex hair and slight bruises upon his neck. He cleared his throat, keeping up his expression, as he spoke to the boy. He had softened up to Jack, he was their kid in some ways, but this was no Nephilim, if anything it was worse, it was a man who impersonated they kid.

 “Heard that uh, (Y/A/N) was running lines with you. Y’know where she is?” Alex’s eyes shifted slightly inside of his personal space, before everything was given away by a familiar giggle. It sounded the exact same as the one that often left (Y/N)’s mouth. Dean knew it, he would never be capable of mistaking it.

 The noise had renegaded in his ears since she had been born, in the impala as John drove, through the halls of the bunker as her and Sam made jokes about his cholesterol. At the worst of times, before he knew that they existed, he liked to think that it was the voice of angel, she always guided him on the right path, and if she were to disappear from his life, he would sorely lose the track that he was hellbent on walking down.

 And he could see her face now, as she tugged the sheet over her body. A frown sculpted her expression, as she looked exasperatedly between Alex whom had tried to lure the tall pair from the confines of his trailer, and the intruders who had barged carelessly in. It wouldn’t have mattered so much if her and Alexander had actually been running lines, however the situation explained more than enough of the fact that they indeed were not.

 “Jared, Jensen, can you like, I don’t know, not cockblock me, for once in your elderly lives?” It felt peculiar, for both Sam and Dean. They knew that this was not their sister, but her calling them by other names was so foreign. Their skins crawled at the labelling, and it only reminded them farther of their cause, the reason that they were sent by an angelic being to be here in this very moment.

 “I am also getting bored of it.” Alexander tilted his head, in agreement with (Y/A/N), who only grinned at his compliance to suit her opinions, and Dean could only roll his eyes, just like he did with Jack the majority of the time. “But it’s cool, but can we hurry this along, I mean not to be rude, but aren’t you guys supposed to be filming a scene in like five minutes?”

 Sam cleared his throat, admittedly he did like Jack. The kid was sweet, however this was not him, it rather was a man who pretended to be a Nephilim for payment, and was bedding the doppelganger of his sister. If he were to see his sister and the devil’s child in such a compromising predicament, most people would assume he’d be the calm sibling, but they’d be wrong. He would go mad, and think of a way to keep the pair separate.

 But luckily for them, there had never been such adult situations insinuated between their dear (Y/N) and Jack, or at least not that they were aware of. This riled Dean, and so he couldn’t help but feel like exploding. It angered him that any man had laid their bare and lustrous hands upon his youngest sibling. No one was to have that pleasure, she was supposed to remain innocent, even if she were legal.

 “Seriously?! Jack of all people?!” He bellowed at (Y/A/N), shaking his head at their obvious exchange. If (Y/A/N) had any clothes on underneath the white sheet that hugged her body as she lay on the sofa, her instincts would have driven her over to Jensen and her palm would have met the side of his stubbly face.

 “First of all, you need to start remembering Alex’s name, and that goes for Jared too. You can’t just keep calling him Jack, even after I’m done here and move onto my next project.” Her words, although not having the intent to, had the effect of triggering Sam’s goal, in-deliberately reminding him of their foremost goal. It was not to get angry at the characters that played them and their loved ones, it was to save someone that was incredibly important to their world.

 “And second,” the woman in covering continued, “this isn’t exactly going to get me to stay on the goddamn show, if you barge in here, interrupting our privacy. If you don’t like what me and Alex are doing off screen, you sure aren’t going to like what is gonna go down between (Y/N) and Jack. Sometimes I do swear that you’re just like Sam and Dean.”

 The jab she made at them struck nerves, but they knew that this was not the real her. It may have looked like (Y/N), but this was only a woman who played the part of her. “We’ve been trying to make you stay on the show?” Sam asked, his voice soft. He didn’t want to be harsh, she was already uncomfortable enough.

 It was her unknowing that they were actually Sam and Dean that could be an element that they could use, a tool of convincing. “Yes, for weeks now.” (Y/A/N) sighed, pinching the point that was between her eyebrows. “And I’m getting tired of it, and overall, this character. I’ve played her for years on end, I think that her story should have a finishing point, a finale. I’m ready for bigger and brighter things, something that is not pretending to be a strong woman on set, and as soon as I walk away from the cameras, I go back to being weak.”

 “I think you’re going to have to explain a little more if I’m going to get any of that.” Dean prompted, both him and Sam had turned away, giving the actress in the sheets the privacy to change. The shuffling of fabrics could be heard, they had been in worse situations with their sister, small motel rooms, of which they could usually only afford one in the past, helped nobody. And none of them received the personal space that should have been an outright human right.

 “Of course neither of you understand.” Alex sighed, “she wants a smaller workspace, one where there aren’t so many eyes on her. The whole ordeal got out of hand, and now there are people online saying terrible things about her and I. Neither of you have made such a mistake, or had something so sacred and personal leaked on the internet. The things people say really digs in deep, she at least wants a break, can’t you understand that?”

 “Wait, what got leaked?” Sam’s curiosity often informed him of things that he did not wish to be aware of, and this was one of their instances. Alex huffed and rolled his eyes, walking over to where (Y/A/N) was now fully clothed, and took a seat on the sofa beside her, their eyes meeting and mirroring smiles shining at one another.

 The sight admittedly made Sam smile, but it made Dean feel internally sick. The sight of what looked like their sister and Jack fuelled a fire inside of him, he wanted his eyes to burn and the memory to be forever removed from his sights.

 “Look, you play a pretty badass character, although I’d say Dean has a bit more kick to him.” The man himself chuckled, but no one joined in, so he continued through a forced smile, coming to sit down next to Alex, his ignorance to what happened there merely minutes ago encouraging his brother to cringe.

  “But that’s not my only point, you’re here, whilst those sad souls that sit behind their computers all day waste their time typing crap. The life you have, the family that you have here, is worth more than the opinions of a few, invisible idiots, who are only jealous of everything that you have earned for yourself. Don’t breathe their toxicity win, because if you do, the bad guys win, and then you will only fade out of the spotlight and they’ll forget all about you, and all of the things they ever posted about you.”

 Alex had been understanding through all of (Y/N)’s decision to leave the cast, although to begin with he had tried to convince her to stay. And it seemed out of all of them, it was Jensen that made her reconsider her options, he could see it behind her eyes, the unravelling of interest, the flickering of hope.

 The only thing that the younger actor could not tell were that these were not Jensen’s words, they fell from the lips of Dean Winchester himself. A character that he knew of, and was an important symbol on the show that he was cast on. But it did not matter if he was not aware of that snippet, because it changed nothing, other than possibly (Y/A/N)’s mindful decision.

 “You know what, you’re right Ackles. It’s not often that I say that, but the thought of leaving everyone here, settling for something that I have no connection to or history with, it is undermining. And I’m going to talk to Kripke, he’ll be over the moon with the consideration, however if he chooses that (Y/N) is to die as was planned due to my indecisiveness, then that shall be the battle that I am to bargain with.” They had won (Y/A/N) over, it was victory.

 It was also the closest that they could do by themselves to save (Y/N). If this didn’t work, they would be nothing more than John’s broken tools, defined by all those that they were always mourning. And it would only make their sister another name on that sour list, even if her death would pain them substantially more than others.

 “I guess we’ll go then.” Sam awkwardly spoke, encouraging Dean to stand from the christened furniture and join him in leaving the sexually active couple alone. He sent the woman a nod, and Alex a raised eyebrow. He would have Jack’s head if he ever thought he had the guts or wings to be so intimate with their sister, he’d make him feel something, and it would be painful. Torturous even.

 They shut the door behind them as they departed from the actors, a smirk on Dean’s face. He felt victorious, he was the same hero that would read (Y/N) stories when it was dark and a storm was thundering outside, as she hid under the duvet of some dingy motel bed, a torch protecting her from the enveloping bleakness, but also her brothers. “I’d call this a win.”

 “They said about a video…” Sam had Jared’s phone in his hand, he scrolled through the feed with a wrinkled nose and scorned eyes. After he received an answer to what it was concluding, he put the device away, he could never look at Jack and (Y/N) around each other the same again. It was burdened by the facts of this world, contradicting the innocence that both the kids in their world showed. “It was a leaked sex scene of the show, Dean.”

 “Heck no!” Growled the elder brother, shaking his head. The instant images that flashed through his mind of the Nephilim atop of his little sister made his teeth grit in anger, and a pit of queasiness fold in the cave of his stomach. He already wasn’t too sure on Lucifer’s spawn, this only enhanced that formed opinion, and he wished to shoot the child more than ever in this instant, even if the real him was not around.

 “They’re not actually the people we know Dean.” Sam comforted him, easing his anger, but only slightly. “Nothing like that has happened between them, he is in another world, whilst (Y/N) is in the bunker, reading lore and trying to find a way to bring mum and Jack back to us.”

 “Yet Sammy, nothing has happened yet.” He allowed himself to shut his eyes for a second, and the next thing that he knew, he was returned home. His speech must have worked on the employee of the show Supernatural, otherwise, Gabriel surely would not have returned them to their home world.

  “He’s gone, for chuck sake. How are we supposed to bring Jack and Mary back if we don’t have archangel grace?!” The stressed voice of their younger sibling often triggered a debate from the brothers, but seeing and hearing her, it was a miracle. They couldn’t waste time and argue, instead Sam lurched forward, grabbing the girl and bringing her into the embrace of his giant like arms.

“We’ll figure it out (Y/N/N), we always do.” He spoke softly, earning a confused yet pleased smile. The hug had come out of nowhere, but it calmed her nerves, the rushing of the blood that hurtled around the veins of her body slowed, and it gave her a moment of peace, a blank mind before she began researching again.

 “I have a question.” Dean stated with his gruff tone, squinting at his female sibling. He suppressed a smile, she was oblivious to the blockade that had rested above her head like a raincloud, but he knew that she was here for good. And that she was not leaving to any sort of afterlife any time soon. “Do you have the hots for Jack?”

 (Y/N)’s eyes went wide, however she forced a scoff to hide the shock and cover up anything that her brothers could pick up on. She released herself from Sam’s hold, taking a couple of simple steps backwards, so that she could have a clear view of the expressions that both of them wore. “Are you seriously asking me that at a time like this?” Her sentence was finished with a sigh and a roll of her eyes.

 But her brothers knew their sister well enough, and that she indeed did not want to admit something to them. (Y/N) was much easier to read than (Y/A/N) was, they had known this growing woman since the day that she was born, the same day in which John rescued the shrieking baby from a mother that was fed and eaten by wolves. She would have been next, however the hunter saved her, as was in his job description, but he couldn’t bare to let her stream through the system.

 He felt an attachment to her, and looking at her was practically the same as the notion of peering at one of his boys. She was to be a Winchester, he hadn’t decided it, but God himself did. The universe worked in mysterious ways, it was as though it was all written out for the family, but this instant, none of them minded. It gave the boys another reason to fight, another person to love, and eventually another family member to lose.

 But it had been evaded this time, Gabriel had although not helped them with reaching their mother and the son of Kelly Kline, however, he had somewhat saved (Y/N) himself. Without his trickster interference, they’d have never known of her doomed fate, or have been able to fix it.

 “I’ll take that as a yes.” Dean was smug with being right, as he always was. Overall though, he was more pleased to know that they had stopped the crumbling of the bottom of the family tree, they had protected their sister, literally to the ends of the world.

 “Pick up a damn book and help me, I’m not doing all of this research by myself.” Another sign that he was indeed correct, changing the subject, how original. But neither of the brothers, more so Dean than Sam, even wanted to try and switch the mindset that (Y/N) had about the boy. They were allowed to have feelings, romantic and so on, and their sister appeared happy with the tether that was from her heart to Jack’s.

   The vampires were almost mutated. This apocalypse world had really taken a toll on all life. Michael of this plain had destroyed everything that was known to be true, even living itself. The habitat of these morsal creatures was dark, and disgusting. Humans had already tried to pass through the deadly lair to reach the other side, to get to the rebellion camp, however, no one had survived to the opposite end of things.

 (Y/N) felt hopeless, even as she walked through the home of the starving monsters. She had never been a fan of vampires, no hunter was, but this was cruel to every extent. They didn’t even appear as human anymore, their fates had been cursed by this ruined land. Without the world that was in her own, they would be worse off, everything in this dimension was.

 Everyone of their company was on edge, Dean ensured that he kept a sturdy eye forward, looking for any light. He knew (Y/N) would have to be okay, it was paved for her to be so in the other universe, she’d be fine. Of course, he still worried, that was what he did in retrospect, all day, every day, he worried that it was to be someone’s last.

 And he was right, as the monsters crept from the dark, tasting the scent of rushing blood in the air. They had lured them from their slumber, and they began to attack, dragging one of the travellers towards their death, where they would be fed on until he was completely drained. (Y/N) swung her machete, beheading one of the animals without a second glance, but perhaps she should have spared another look on the side, as she was a target.

 She was the prey to what she was raised to hunt, it wrapped its clawed hand around her leg like a coil, dragging her to the ground, and feasting its teeth into her supple flesh. This was it, there was no route away from her fate, and her body was already weak from blood loss, and so she gave up, and refused to fight. Her body was dragged into the abyss of the nest, and its members followed after her.

 Sam noticed their apparent glee, they had yet again prized food from them. He looked around to see whom it may be, and he was aghast with the sight. (Y/N) had her eyes shut as her limp form was being taken by vampires, and he froze, traumatised by the sight. And his surprised and hurt stature gave another of the beasts the perfect opportunity to rip into the rubber of his neck, and relish in the unstoppable river of blood that poured out from the fatal wound.

 “No!” Dean cried out, noticing that his sister too had disappeared. Before he could follow after the menaces and get vengeance, and possibly save his family from being the meal of savages, Castiel grasped his arm, pain rendering in the blueness of his vessel’s eyes.

 “They’re gone Dean.” His words rang through the hunter’s head. This was his worst nightmare. Gabriel’s warning had not helped at all, because (Y/N) was dead, and so was Sam. He forced himself to trudge on, pained like no other time before. Sam had died before, but he had always found a way to retrieve him back into life, and even through his tragic absence, he always had (Y/N). Now, the only other Winchester was his mother, who also needed to be saved from this damned world.

   “Think about it Sammy, Jack is going to be so pleased to see you alive, but your little sis, well, I’m sure that is going to be one hell of a reunion between them.” Lucifer smirked, he was in Nick’s body again, using it as a vessel. “And he’ll think of me as a saviour, a knight that saved his princess from a terrible fate.”

 The fallen archangel always had ulterior motives, and Sam realised that he had no choice in whether he’d rather remain dead, or be used as a bargaining chip by the devil himself. His interest in Jack was not exactly pure, it was clear to the man that he sought the backup, the power of his biological son. His intent was to creep into the boy’s mind, and decipher for the kid the difference between wrong and right.

 “That’s what you want, to lie to him about who you are?” He couldn’t exactly say he was surprised, even more so that the audience of vampires were seething to break free from Lucifer’s force. He wasn’t even supposed to be here, he should have been in the bunker, his grace feeding away at Rowena’s spell, and keeping the gate open for their return.

 “I’ll just bend the truth to fit the story, and I care about my son. As you care about your dear sister, and it would be a shame if she were not to wake, and then the news will have to be delivered to my boy, and I’m sure that would just break his half and half heart.” The celestial being, the epidemy of evil tutted at the thought, only to send Sam a mischievous smirk afterwards. “You don’t want him to be like me, but without her, he’ll be in so much pain that he won’t think about his actions. If he has (Y/N/N), then that choice will be entirely up to him, and what he believes in, yada yada yada.”

 The sight of his sister covered in her own blood, motionless on the ground, bite marks on her shoulders and elsewhere drew out a desperation in Sam. He couldn’t not allow the villain to bring her back to life, and it seemed that no matter what he disputed, that Lucifer would do it anyway, to get himself in Jack’s good books. And so he hung his head low, awaiting the personal enemy of his to resurrect the most important woman in his life.

 On first instinct, (Y/N) gasped in air. There was a lack of it rolling around the vitals of her lungs, but her breath was taken away once more, when she saw the looming of a horrifying figure, a first son of god. He was supposed to be, even if forced to do so by the traditions of magic, be at the bunker, revelling them with a way back. Rowena had been left there also, to keep the spell brewing, and a fearful eye on the hellish shadow.

 Assumingly, he had escaped his sentence, and for some reason, brought her to life. It was no mistake as to what the vampires had done to her, she could smell the spilling of her own blood over her thrifted and worn clothes, and it was gruesome. Although it was not the hunter’s first time in being a sponge to her injuries, but nevertheless, she fought to stand beside Sam, who steadied her shaken feet, and balanced out the rest of her body by looping his supportive arm around her waist.

 “Come on.” Lucifer rolled the human eyes that he wore like spectacles into the lives of the Winchesters, unimpressed by the slowness of the world’s large cockroaches. “We have places to be and sons to meet.” At his verbalised of clarity for his ungodly presence, (Y/N)’s body became rigid. His intent was to get to Jack, she couldn’t allow him to provoke a fire inside the boy.

 He was sweet and innocent, even harmless, despite the accident that had happened when he accompanied her and her brothers on a hunt. If Lucifer reached him, he would only try and navigate the darkness inside of him to be what it was, rather than try and make him change it into something brighter, something that was good, like Kelly would have wanted.

 “No.” (Y/N) refused, earning a frown from Sam and a elongated groan from Lucifer. She had died, it didn’t matter if she were to return to that fate, not if she stood by what she truly believed in. Nothing much would change, other than the vampires getting another meal from the same body, Dean already thought that she was extinguished from life, and the news would be passed on before any of them were to reach him.

 “Oh, for crying out loud!” The devil shook his wolfish head, Winchesters were always so stubborn. “I’d allow it if Sam were to stand against the gift of life, I’ve seen what is inside of his head after all, but you! You’re the priority here, you are Jack’s weakness.” This gesture of good faith seemed to be more than it was worth, but if she didn’t comply willingly, then he would force her to follow him along, and live.

 “Where’d you hear that from? He doesn’t have a weakness, he just has a good heart. I’m just another person that he lives with, a soldier that is going to fight anyone that dares to try and hurt him. And I won’t mind if I have to give my life to try and kill you.” She spat at the disgrace of heaven, hardly moved by his goal. As a Winchester, the stubbornness ran through her veins, even if the bloodline itself did not.

 “I hear things, and I did in that bunker. Like how Dean was speaking about you and Jackie boy, and how it all made sense. The shared looks, the flushed faces, all that gross stuff. He didn’t seem too happy with the circumstances, but he was content with the fact that you were alive, like you are again, because of me.”

Lucifer was the last person that (Y/N) would thank for her existence, but she realised that there was no way out of his trap, she was the bait for Jack, that would reel the boy into the wings of his dreaded father.

He could sometimes be so naive, that she feared that Jack would fall for the extension of kindness, one that hardly suited Lucifer. But that was up to him, and in this apocalyptic version of her world, anything could happen.

“She’s dead.” Dean’s voice was gravelly, it had been dragged through hope, and now the realisation that his baby brother and sister were lost to life. The eyes belonging to Jack widened, and tears began to form.

He could quite comprehend how he felt. There was a tearing in his chest, he felt as though he was being split apart, his breathing rapidly increased, and his eyes flared like the bursts of the sun.

Until whispers hit his ears, and he looked up, only to see the girl alive and well. He was not the only one relieved in the circumstances, Dean and Mary were too, but they feared the fact that Lucifer had joined them, and was being trailed by the bloodied siblings; the ones that he had saved for his selfish purposes.

#jack kline oneshot #supernaturalprompt #supernatural x reader #supernatural x you #supernatural requests #supernatural one shot #supernatural imagine #supernatural fanfiction #spn x you #spn x y/n #spnxreader #spn x reader #spnimagine #spn one shot #spn fanfiction #jack imagine #jack kline smut #jack #jack x reader #jack kline imagine #jack kline x reader #alex calvert x you #alex calvert imagine #alex x reader #alexander calvert x reader #alex calvert x reader #imagine #imagines #xreader

[kuroos-moon]

「ii. Collide Pt. 2」

☽☽☽☽☽☽ ❦ ☾☾☾☾☾☾

He shuts off his phone, sliding out of his car with ease with his mask already on and his bag strapped to his shoulder. As much as he likes to deny it to himself, he’s still hurting over you, the mere mention of your name already making him want to stay at home and do what he rarely did— self-destruct.

He exhales a breath in annoyance, bitterness welling up in his chest. Who were you to lurk in his mind after all these years?

He pushes the door open, silently walking through the marble halls. For him, it was impossible for you to be there inside the gym. Why would you— after all these years of ‘hiding’— show up in front of him now?

“What? But Keiji, Tetsuro, I just got here!”

He immediately stops in his tracks, a chill running down his spine. It’s your voice. How cruel could time be, why didn’t he ever forget it? Not once had he watched your movies or interviews, heck, at even hearing your name on the radio he automatically turns it off.

Yet here he was, knowing fully well this sweet voice belonged to you.

“You wanted to hang out, right?”

He remembers this voice too, and all he felt was distaste.

“I did, but Akaa-

“Y/n, please.”

An unwanted memory resurfaces, and he curses himself for thinking of it now, backing up against the wall just beside the entrance as he leans on it with his head tilted back.

With eyes closed, he tries to calm himself, actually considering to take off his mask just so he could breathe better.

That day— like all of the days with you in it, it’s clear as an image; one he could replay like a movie.

“Y/n.” You yelp in surprise and turn back to look at him, flushed at the fact he was holding your wrist firmly but at the same time his hold was gentle. 

His eyes dart down to what you wore— you were managing Karasuno now? He obviously had so much questions but that wasn’t the important part— for now at least, he just wanted to assure himself that you’re actually here and you won’t disappear again.

“Err, uhm, hi, uh how do you know my name?” You look at him weirdly, slightly tugging back at your arm. His brows furrow, lips parting so slightly behind his mask and his hand not loosening its grip on your wrist.

“What? You haven’t seen me in months and that’s the first thing you say?” He exasperatedly says before he exhales a breath in disbelief, “y/n what-”

“Y/n, I told you to stick with me,” he was cut off by Akaashi Keiji, your arm now out of Sakusa’s grasp, causing him to glare at the setter in irritation. Yes, he knew Akaashi was your close childhood and family friend but he hated him. 

He told him he didn’t know where you were or why you left that time when Sakusa was practically about to go down on his knees just to see you again.

“Sorry, Keiji, he- uh- well,  I don’t know him though-”

“He must be confused, let’s go,” his hold glides down from your elbow to your hand as you both turn away. Subtly, he looks back and locks eyes with Sakusa once more; a warning glare, followed by a sigh as if Sakusa was about to screw something up.

He was beyond confused, moreover, in pain. You left without a word, and now that you see each other again, you pretend to not even know him. It wasn’t hard for him to conclude that he had been the only one who cared, the only one in love, and the only one who suffered when you parted. 

He steadies his breaths, before finally opening his eyes. He’s okay now— he thinks, as he leans away from the wall, deciding it’d be best to skip practice for today since you decided to grace the gym with your visit. 

Heaven knows he’d do anything to steer clear of you, but it’s as if they were mocking him as you stood before him in curiosity.

“I know you,” you blink, looking up at him in thought, and he chuckles humorlessly, looking at you spitefully as if you’d wronged him.

“You do,” he darkly says. You both stand a foot away from each other, your gaze unfaltering despite his hostility. It’s not that you weren’t intimidated, he was just so fucking handsome. His shoulders were stupidly broad as he towered over you with his tall and ripped figure you could clearly make out though he’s wearing a jacket.

He was totally the type you didn’t know you had; with his curly black hair you wish you could run your fingers through, a beautiful mesmerizing face adorned with the two moles above his thick brows, a penetrating gaze that seemed lifeless but not at all making his eyes any less pretty, and overall, he was beyond attractive, smells like your kind of love potion too.

 “May I know your name?” You innocently ask him, and he raises a brow at you before he clicks his tongue in annoyance. “Sure, lets both pretend you don’t know,” he coldly says and you scoff at him. 

“I wouldn’t ask you if I did,” you put a hand to your hip, “aren’t you quite arrogant, mr.-i-look-good-in-black.”

He was stunned, you’ve always been bratty, he figures that you didn’t change much. Well, he did; he’s changed, the distant but loving boy you once knew grew even more distant and cold, hatred coursing through his veins at the mere sight of you.

“We’re doomed,” Kuroo mumbles to Akaashi who nods, Hinata and Bokuto stressfully running their fingers through their hair. “They were bound to cross paths though,” Kuroo shrugs but Akaashi shakes his head.

“That’s not all,” he sighs, staring at you, “can’t you recognize the look on her face?” They look at you intently before a simultaneous “oh,” was dropped. “That’s what y/n looks like when she spots nice clothes while we’re out shopping,” Bokuto nervously says and Kuroo lets out a sarcastic chuckle.

“That look on her face right now? That’s the exact same one when she fell head over heels for her musician ex, Semi, was it?” He says, and Akaashi nods. “We could’ve prevented this.”

“No, it was an accident!” Hinata pouts, “she said she was going to the restroom, how were we supposed to know she meant the one outside the gym?” 

“If looks could kill, I think I’m already dead, thanks to you,” you sweetly smile at him, and Sakusa studies your face once more with with glaring eyes before he slowly turns on his heel, “make this day the last time I see you—please,” he says the last part more quietly.

You only cock your head to the side in wonder as you watch him walk away. 

“Y/N! YOU OKAY?!” Hinata screams and you shush him, immediately making him shut up. “What’s wrong?” Bokuto whispers as the four of them watch you stare at his back.

“His shoulders are so broad, his back is so hot, and for what?” You bite your lip, Akaashi almost having a stroke at what you had just said. “Did he say anything weird though?” He quietly asks, and you finally look at the four of them once Sakusa turned the corner.

“Yup, our whole conversation’s weird, I think he hates me,” you chuckle, and they all exchange a look, “what’s so funny?” Kuroo mouths at Bokuto who shrugs. 

“You okay y/n? You seem weird, do you need something?” Hinata asks you and you smirk. 

“I need two things Sho,” you grin widely as you hold up two fingers in the air, “his name, and his number.”

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Smau Masterlist

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#haikyuu x reader #sakusa x reader #sakusa smau #haikyuu smau #haikyuu!! social media au #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu!! smau #haikyuu!! x reader #sakusa kiyoomi

[stxrshxpxd]

“do not expect this to be the last you see of me” (part 4)

check masterlist (in bio) for the other parts <3

Pairing: Kili / Legolas x (wood elf) Reader

Word count: 1.552

Warnings: None

* * *

“Since when do you get cuddly with dwarves?” Legolas said with an unjustified amount of irritation in his voice. He held my arm in a tight grip and I could feel his breath on my cheek.

“Since when do you care who I get cuddly with?” I asked back and pulled my arm away. He let go instantly and he looked down, seemingly embarrassed. His long hair hung to frame his face and he exhaled a frustrated sigh.

“Since I’m your best friend.”

“And that means you get to a say in who I-” I began to get heated but cut myself off. “Who even said I’m interested in him?”

“Oh, please,” Legolas exhaled and turned around for a moment. He paced around a small circle in my bedroom and I let my eyes jump from his braided hair to his muscular back, down his sculpted waist and then back up to his vibrant eyes as he turned to face me again.

“You’ve never smiled at anyone like you smile at him.”

“I don’t even know him,” I argued. I didn’t want to admit to myself why I so desperately wanted to hide my newfound infatuation from Legolas. We had never really had conversations like this before - about love and attraction. It just felt odd to discuss it with him.

“You can’t be with a dwarf-”

“Who do you want me to be with?”

Legolas got quiet. He looked around in the room, searching for a fitting answer. I knew what he wanted to say and I knew he couldn’t get it out.

“Legolas.”

My voice softened and I took a couple steps closer to him. His jaw was tense and his gaze set somewhere behind me.

“Mellon nin,” I whispered. He sighed and flinched at my words.

“Don’t call me that.”

“What?”

“Friend,” he said.

I reached my hands out and gently held his clothed arms. He looked away from me but willingly stayed under my touch.

“You just called yourself my best friend earlier,” I chuckled but Legolas looked miserable.

He finally looked up into my eyes but the eye contact didn’t last long. He suddenly pressed his lips against mine in a kiss more passionate than I had ever experienced before. He quite literally took my breath away. I had instinctively closed my eyes but I opened them halfway through the kiss. His eyes were closed tightly and his brows deeply furrowed. The side of his nose was pressed against mine and I felt him exhale sharply through it.

Once again Legolas had made me completely forget about Kili’s existence for a moment, but then his voice cut through my foggy thoughts and made me pull away. My hands left Legolas’ forearms and I purposely avoided eye contact as I headed out of my bedroom.

“Sorry?” I asked for Kili to repeat his question. He looked at me through big eyes and held an apple up next to his face.

“Can I have the last apple?” he asked again and I nodded out of impulse without even consoling with Legolas. I didn’t dare look at him for now. My emotions were boiling up inside me and they seemed impossible to read. Looking at Kili, I felt the same. Only without the feeling of impending doom regarding lifelong friendship being on the line.

“Y/N, I was thinking..” Kili said and then took a big bite of the apple. “..I would like to show you Erebor. I’m sure all the dwarves would love to see you again. Let me return your hospitality.”

I could barely hear what he was saying. All I kept thinking about was how Legolas had yet to make it back to the kitchen and how incapable my brain was of demanding my body to turn around. I had no idea what he was thinking.

“Yes,” I said in a weak voice. “That sounds great. I would love to see your home.”

Kili had sparks in his eyes and a big content smile on his lips. His cheeks were filled with apple and he continued munching on it in silence as he nodded.

“I will travel with you on my way back home. And from there lend you a horse for your journey to the mountain,” Legolas spoke in a steady voice behind me. This time I turned around and we exchanged brief looks. I watched him pass me and head directly for his bow and arrows that stood leaning against my wall.

“Very well,” I said with a lack of better words.

“Great,” Kili nodded.

It had only taken a few minutes to pack the food I had left in my cupboards and find our way back down to the mossy ground. Kili had mounted his pony and we were all strolling in silence down the familiar path. The only sounds were those of the forest - the birds in the trees, the distant stream of water and the breeze blowing through the bushes.

It would take a little over an hour to get to Thranduil’s Halls and I knew Legolas didn’t want to talk to me. I couldn’t figure out if he was embarrassed or angry or sad, but his jaw was tight and his gaze turned away from me.

“Oh, look,” Kili gave a shrill whisper and pointed his arm into the deep forest. We all obeyed his wish and discovered a tranquil doe standing in the bushes. She was a gorgeous sand colour and her ears twitched attentively as we carried on down the path.

“Friend, not food,” Kili pointed out and nodded his head at me.

“I’m proud of you,” I laughed, tilting my head up slightly to look him in the eye where he sat on the back of his pony. He had a dorky little smile on his lips and it was a contagious one.

Legolas didn’t say much during that hour, but Kili made up for his lack of conversation with a myriad of anecdotes. Ones that included his brother and uncle - most of them did - left him somberly silent on occasion. I didn’t quite know how to react to his emotions, so I mirrored his silence.

Being an elf, I had an interesting relationship with death. It felt distant in the sense that it wasn’t inevitably in my fate that I would suffer it someday soon. But I had of course seen it happen to many around me, some that had been close friends and family members.

Kili was always quick to regain his spirit and by the time we reached the Elvenking's Halls he was in the middle of another funny anecdote, but Legolas cut him off.

“I will be right back with your horse,” he announced and earned all my attention for a few seconds. His stern air had now turned into an undeniably miserable look.

“Thank you,” I muttered and he was off.

“Go on,” I chuckled weakly at Kili who had been suddenly interrupted.

“Well that was pretty much the extent of it, the fun bit of the story anyway. Because then the wargs came and.. well, you happened.”

He said it in such a way that it made me sound like the most exceptional event. To be fair, I did save their lives that night, but that wasn’t it. His eyes had a special twinkle in them and his smile wasn’t as dorky this time, but rather tamed and resembled a smirk more so than a wide grin.

“How funny. That was the same night you happened,” I added as the last couple of words, because he had in fact begun to lean closer to me. For maybe the first time in my life I had to stand on my toes to kiss someone, as his lips were just out of reach where he sat on top of his pony. Kili’s scruffy chin pressed into mine and his one hand grazed my cheek about as delicately as his dwarf genes would allow.

I had forgotten the world around us existed for a moment - and where we were within it - until galloping hooves came closer and reminded me of our whereabouts. Some type of deep guilt washed over me and made me pull away from Kili.

That miserable look on Legolas’ face was now as legible as an open book, and yet neither of us acknowledged the fact that he had just caught me kissing Kili. I hadn’t done anything morally wrong per se, but there was a horrible feeling in my stomach that was eating me up from inside.

Legolas swiftly slid off the large grey horse and dug the heels of his boots into the muddy ground. I accepted the bridle from his hand and he impulsively dragged that hand across the horse’s strong neck for a moment.

“My father will not be pleased to know one of his horses is gone.”

“I’m sorry,” I said as it was the first thing that came to mind. Legolas shook his head.

“I’m happy to help. Mellon nin.”

He said it in a way that left me with a stabbing feeling in my chest. I uttered a light sigh of torment and Legolas turned around.

“Have a safe journey,” he wished in a quick turning of his heel and then continued walking away from us.

#kili #legolas #lotr #lord of the rings #the hobbit #imagine #fic #au #prompt #blurb #smut #fluff #angst #kili x reader #legolas x reader

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Blighted

For my precious Sunshine, @5-secondsofcolor's birthday!! Which is technically now, because it is 1 AM on the 20th of May and I am a mad woman. Love you and I hope you have an amazing day, when you see this of course.

Here is your fic, FBI/Behavior Analyst!Calum. Female OC.

Ivy says she's cursed after taking the same career path that took her father's life. Calum's new on the team, a liaison and media specialist, but he's looking to get his toes wet.

AKA your regular old jaded pessimist veteran and bright eyed rookie buddy cop story. Please enjoy!

CW: In depth descriptions of death/crime scenes. Depictions of violence, gore, and blood.

Enjoy my masterlist (on a haitus)

Search for more writing in the h writes tag

________________________

The whiteboard never leaves. It glows behind her closed eyelids. When staring down at the neck of a bottle, she sees it floating just as the bottom of her drink. She’s cursed. But she knew that the moment she tried out for the academy. The second the thought floated across her mind, she would be doomed just like her father. Ivy tried her best to reroute herself--she got into the arts, was first chair flute in her highschool’s orchestra. She was president of the Homecoming committees her junior and senior year, and worked during the summers at her church's camp.

And yet when she went into school for her degree, she gravitated towards psychology and criminal justice. She saw her mother’s fear. The closer it came to graduation and the more the two of them talked about what she would do after graduating, the more the thought lingered, I want to get into the Bureau like Dad. But she couldn’t utter that. She couldn’t say those words without tears welling up in her mother’s eyes.

Ivy suspected her mother always knew about the desires. Ivy didn’t remember all the nights clearly, but sometimes she’d peek out her bedroom door and see the glow of the light downstairs. Ivy followed it, side stepping the creaky fourth step from the top and from between the banister’s she’d find her dad sitting at the dining room table. The kitchen light glowed from behind him and his tie would barely hang on around his neck.

“Boo,” he’d say quietly, knowing the slight shuffle of Ivy’s feet.

“How’d you know I was there, Daddy?” she’d ask, carrying herself the rest of the way down the stairs and make her way through the living room to climb into his lap.

“I can hear your feet above me,” he’d respond, pointing above them.

And they’d spend an hour, sitting at the dining room table. Ivy asked about her dad’s latest trip. He only ever told her when she was young that they were helping save people, putting bad people away. Ivy wonders if this is where it started. If this was where her father casted the spell, leaving Ivy somehow starry eyed about what it really was he did. Ivy would always look at this job with a little bit of that hope that her younger self had, and she’d always be fucked to never be able to walk away from this line of work.

It would kill her--much like it had killed her dad. But unlike him, she’d see the bullet spiral out of the barrel. Her dad had her and her mother to get back too. It wasn’t a weakness. Ivy admired her father for sticking with his dreams and also making the hard calls to make sure his family knew he cared too. But the need to decide would always be a slight hindrance, would always be the key to living or dying in this line of work.

All that’s left of her father, besides the memories and a few of his old t-shirts that got remade into pillows, is the whiteboard she keeps at her desk. There’s a whiteboard for the entire team to use of course. But this whiteboard is the one that her father used in his office. The one where he made his notes, scribbles. The one she’d write notes to him in the bottom left corner that never disappeared until she wanted to replace the note with something new.

“Thomas, look alive, and enjoy.” The manilla folder hits her desk with a quiet thwack. Ivy blinks from the whiteboard up to her senior officer. Kennedy carries on, dropping folders on every desk and each one of them stands without needing any further prompting.

Kennedy’s been in the field for years. It was all over his face with the deep frown lines. His brow seemed permanently furrowed, as if he questioned every waking second. Ivy liked to tease he worried even about sleep. But no one could sink a decade and a half into this line of work and not come out on the other side with a healthy amount of suspicion.

“And where’s this new guy?” Kennedy asks, glancing over the office.

Ivy looks up from her copy of the file. She heard rumors of someone else coming by the office, assisting them occasionally on cases. But those rumors floated around weeks ago, long enough that she chalked it up to just that--rumors. It doesn’t shock her though. Things start at rumors often, and sometimes they come to fruition and sometimes they don’t. Ivy follows Kennedy’s eyeline and doesn’t spy any new faces.

“Want me to keep an eye out for any lost souls?” Ivy offers, glancing back up to Kennedy.

“Nah, I need your eyes on this one. Head up to the conference room and I’ll be there once he shows up.”

With a nod, Ivy closes the file. She swipes the whiteboard from her desk with a couple markers and heads up to the conference room. The rest of the team sat flipping through their files too, Jenkins sitting right near the front but moved down one seat. They’re not new, having been around for a couple years. But Ivy can tell their type--getting in chummy with the boss, trying too hard. They’re a good addition, but Ivy’s waiting for the day they take a hunch and it doesn’t lead to the results they want. A loss will show their true colors, how well they can handle being wrong sometimes. No one on the team is perfect, they’re all hedging bets. Ivy’s taken her lumps of hunches being made too late, or the wrong bets placed. They’re not often. No one likes them. But they happen.

Diaz, Russell, and Burke and scattered throughout the rest of the table. The three of them have been there longer than Ivy. But they all accepted her with open arms. Diaz and Burke were more muscular. They had the brains to match, but they came up the pipeline from their local PD departments and aren’t afraid to get into a tussle. More often than not, Ivy winds up pulling Burke from fights than she’d care to admit. Diaz’s much too big for Ivy to attempt physically restraining, so she referee’s those fights that he gets into.

Russell’s their man behind the screen. He was good at getting through the internet loops, figuring out how to sort databases for the information they need without so much red tape and delay. He preferred to stay behind the lines, but could handle a tussle. Ivy doesn’t count herself as the brains. But her gut had some sort of true north needle that, more often than not, was right. She could see patterns faster than most, could sniff the air after someone and assess how much she could and wanted to trust. Kennedy consulted her often. Whenever she felt like she had something, he’d hush the crowd for her to formulate the full thought. Kennedy didn’t always agree with her assessment, but had to listen to it. He needed to listen to it.

“Nope,” Russell huffs, shutting the folder. “Fucking hell. Kennedy told me it was rough, but I didn’t--I didn’t think it was this rough.”

Ivy settles in next to him sliding him a marker. She draws roughly a tic-tac-toe board. “It not getting easier for you is a good sign.”

Russell makes his first move, the marker squeaking just a little. Ivy follows up with hers. She knows if she makes it too obvious, too easy, Russell will forfeit the game. So she tries to play along, like she’s vying to win.

Russell places his second X though his hands shake just a hair. “Yeah, but compared to you guys, I feel like if someone took a gnarly enough shit it would make me queasy.”

“A bad enough shit could do that to anyone,” Diaz pipes in, his own folder still open but his forearms pressed down over the photographs. Russell’s been around the block, definitely seem some rough things, but has always had a softer view of the world. Still wants it to be good despite all the bad he’s seen.

Ivy places down her second O, noticing the pretty obvious wide open spot she left Russell but looks up to Diaz. “I think I heard through the grapevine you were on the losing end of one of those shits yesterday,” she teases.

Diaz reclines into his seat, his chest bouncing with his laughter. “All because of your cooking Thomas.”

“My cooking is not that bad,” she defends, the cap of her black marker pointing him out.

Burke snickers too with a shake of her head and opens her mouth to speak but the room fills with the voice of Kennedy. “Aren’t y’all old enough to be left alone not to talk about shit for five minutes?”

“Never too old to talk shit, sir,” Diaz returns, his smile lifting only half his face up. He’s a charmer, whenever they go out to bars out manage to get a moment’s peace not hounded by work, he never seems to be at a lack of folks coming up to him. He’s already got a girl, but with the hair that cascades always neatly placed and the dazzling bright grin, anyone could fall for it.

Kennedy huffs his laughter quickly and then shuffles deeper into the room. “We’ve got a new friend, so let’s play nice.” As Kennedy makes head way, Ivy notices the man behind him. He’s tall. The black dress pants and black dress shirt don’t hide everything beneath them, but Ivy’s not too shocked to see people who work in the field like that with some sort of muscular physique. There’s something about his face though--something about the way his brown eyes dart around the room and his smile never shows any teeth that something familiar tugs at her.

Kennedy goes around the table introducing Ivy first, then going to Russell, coming down to Jenkins, Diaz, and then Burke. Each one of them lifts a hand or nods at their name. “This here is Hood, Calum Hood. Joining us as a new liaison.”

Ivy’s no good with faces sometimes. But names she hardly ever forgets. Hood, she met him once a few years back at a lecture. Not that she did them often, but Kennedy got more face time. But he made sure to spread the love between the team. He asked her to tag along. Calum must’ve been in the crowd, had to be, and had to have asked a question because Kennedy told her to remember that name. And she had.

Kennedy continues on with something. Ivy suspects he’s warning Diaz to keep any hazy tactics to a minimum considering how much of a mess they’re walking into. Ivy nods once more at him, and then faces back to the whiteboard, the tap on her arm prompting her too. I’m a scaredy cat sure, but not dumb, it reads in Russell’s handwriting. She spies his X in the bottom corner, opposite of where he would’ve won.

“Pull up a seat, Hood. We’ll have more time for pleasantries once we’re up in the air. But I want everyone to at least be familiar with this case.”

“Yes, sir.” His voice is smooth, Ivy notes. A soft volume and accented but smoother than she would’ve pegged.

The team breaks down the file, recapping mostly what they’ve already read but Kennedy’s old fashioned this way, needing to make sure people have done their homework. It’s an extra step than completely necessary, but having the quick meetings has always made this team feel more like a second family. There’s always a common goal in mind for them and they’re always reminded of it. No matter what happens out in the field, they all want the same thing.

“We soar in forty-five minutes. So let’s hope wheels can turn in the air. Hood, I need you to keep in mind the local PD’s been taking a lot of heat for the last couple of months. So we don’t want to take too much star power, we’re only here to assist and whatever we can do to put the local’s good grace back onto that PD we need to.”

Not quite what she expected, though with his demeanor and looks, he’s sure to work a crowd or newsroom well. She’s sure he’ll be on the ground with them too.

“Understood,” he replies and with that, all of them push away from the table. “Agent Thomas,” Hood says, reaching out almost as if to touch her elbow but never actually do it. He continues to speak once she looks over to him. “I-I don’t know if you remember. But we met at a lecture a couple years back that you held with Agent Kennedy. And I just wanted to say that I’m excited to be here, working with you all.”

“Thomas, here, does not respond well to flattery. Trust, we’ve all tried,” Diaz laughs, clamping down on Hood’s shoulders.

“I appreciate it,” Ivy responds. “Glad to have a fresh mind on the team.” There’s no smile, at least, not one she’d give Russell, Burke, Diaz, or even Jenkins. But Calum watches her give another curt nod with a quick quirk of her lips, and then leave, stacking her file on top of the whiteboard.

“Don’t sweat it. She’s in work mode,” Diaz assures. “We get off the clock and she’s a hoot. But on the clock, it’s strictly business. I will warn you, Thomas will burn you.”

Calum’s left, watching Diaz, Burke, and Russell leave. Jenkins turned tail the second Kennedy got done. It’s not that he wants to mix business with pleasure. He’s just been studying Thomas, attending as many lectures that she gives as he can. She didn’t always go directly by the book, there was something about her method that used the evidence, used science, but also had some sort of intuition. Thomas just knew things and when attempting to quantify it, she didn’t always have the words for it. Calum just wants to see that in action, understand what it is about knowing that isn’t always present in the facts.

The plane ride is comfortable. Plenty of seats even though they squeak just a little. Calum watches Thomas sit and everyone seems to sit spread out from there, keeping her at some sort of center. “Mobile. They don’t mind the hustle,” Ivy starts.

“Crossing state lines is risky, especially after the escalation,” Burke interjects.

“But wouldn’t that be a reason for it? If all the crimes look different, enough crossing state lines might make the unsub feel confident, like they’re getting away with something.” The entire plane turns to look at him. Calum freezes for a moment. He knows better. He knows so much better than that. Fuck.

“Valid. But we shouldn’t settle. Travel might be part of their job. We’ve got a good cluster to possibly estimate a home base. Get comfortable, perfect the craft here and then spread out. But why come back? Local PD's hadn't quite connected anything, until the return. More families, found exactly the same. Even when they cross state lines, all points wind back to a specific geographical location,” Burke returns.

“Hood, you got the inside of the media. What does it look like?”

Thirty minutes of his forty five was making sure that he could at least nail down this run through. And it’s easy, even with the squeak of Ivy’s dry erase marker, to run down the media reports, what information has been released and what hasn’t been released. He makes note of what the team doesn’t want to get out and what they do want to keep available to the public.

All the while, Calum watches the way Ivy writes over her board, the squeak over and over on specific strokes. He wonders for a moment what she’s writing, what it is that she needs to keep written track of. But he doesn’t get a chance to fully flesh out that thought before he finishes his spill and Diaz cuts in. They’re fast, not quite settling on any one theory. More like compiling the possibilities, not wanting to eliminate things but ranking how plausible they all could be until the pieces click.

The first thing after the flight lands, they head for the precinct. The lead investigator greets them, and there’s no pause. They’re pulled into the frenzy, looking at boards. Calum tries to keep his head in the game, but he is watching Ivy. The way she settles in her chair, her marker always moving. He’s not even sure it’s words anymore, just a constant circular movement. Sure he’s here to help regulate media outlets, and he can do that in his sleep if local PD and media follow his instructions to a T.

But he needs an in, to show he’s more than just the new meat on the chopping block. He’s worth something. “Is the last crime scene still available?” Calum asks.

The room turns to him, well most of the room does. Ivy keeps circling, but she speaks. “The plan’s to go in ten minutes. Whatever’s got you preoccupied, leave it in your go bag.”

Kennedy chuckles, tapping at her foot. “Give the kid a break. He was buried in news coverage the second we got into the door. But Hood, shake the cobwebs. This isn’t your small town’s rodeo anymore. If you need to be caught up, ask. But if you’re going to be in the room, keep those ears open.”

A task easier said than done, but he nods, resting his elbows on his knees. God, they’re going to think I’m an idiot. The room goes back to its normal buzz, but Calum keeps his head buried in his hands.

“Talk to me. What are your theories?”

Calum lifts his head. Ivy’s closer now. He can see the black marks on her hand from where she’s held it up against the swirls and lettering. “Clearly I’m barely treading water here.”

“First day nerves, but you can shake it. You wanted to see the crime scene. Why?”

“Why there? We have indications that the unsub spent a lot of time there, even with the interruptions they've seemed to caused. They're still meticulous. I want to follow their steps. What did they do first? And why? What do they need from a crime scene before it’s done?”

“Good. But what else?”

“What-what do you mean what else?”

She smiles, much different than the first one. It shows her teeth, a bit of a twinkle in her eyes. “What else?”

He goes quiet, reclines back into the seat and closes his eyes for a second. What else? There’s a lot else. “I mean, the next obvious thing is why these victims? But besides that, how comfortable is this person? Do they feel a need to be rushed, fast, get-in-get-out or can they blend in? I have a hunch they can blend in. Maybe people even trust them. They are perfectly ordinary and in essence, they have to be in order for the fantasy to work. Detection means they have to get sloppy. Being sloppy’s not an option, so blending in it is.”

“Bring that to the crime scene.” Something taps his knee and Calum cracks open his eyes to see her, standing. Her whiteboard still gently rests against his knee. She’s not looking at him though. Her gaze is locked onto the board next to him, displaying the crime scene photos.

“What’s your secret?” Calum asks. He’s almost positive she didn’t hear him due to Ivy’s lack of prompt response. But then she turns to him.

“Secret?”

“Thomas, Hood, you comin’ or what?” Kennedy calls. “I can deal without Diaz, but I need you, Thomas.”

“I’ll remember that,” Diaz laughs as they walk through the glass doors of the precinct.

It’s not Calum’s first time at a crime scene. But the second Calum steps through the door a chill runs through him. The carpet and walls are still bloodstained. Everything about it the scene just feels wrong, makes Calum want to immediately step back out of the house.

“You feel that?” Burke asks. She continues on deeper into the house, slipping into her gloves.

“This is when Thomas says she’s too Black for all this and gets the hell out of dodge,” Diaz barks. He squats down to the blood on the carpet. Ivy’s already deep into the house, seemingly guided by a force unwillingly to let her go. She doesn’t respond verbally, just lifts her hand, the middle finger extended out in the general direction of Diaz.

And Calum is standing near the threshold of the door, trying to pinpoint why it feels so cold in a house in Texas in the middle of the summer. His hands feel sticky even inside the latex gloves. His first step is shaky but he stops next to Diaz. “There are drag marks from the blood,” Calum notes. “This isn’t where they were killed, just staged.”

“The unsub staged all the victims here in the living room. We know that. Pictures show the parents at the ends of the sofa, children in the middle, dog on the floor.”

“But there’s blood on the walls. We know the Dad’s 6’1,” Calum returns.

“And we don’t have forced entry. So, whoever is wreaking havoc isn’t threatening enough for someone not to answer the door.”

Calum turns to the sofa where the family was found. “It’s picturesque, poetic even. You’ve got a whole family right here, at your will. They knock on the door. It’s dusk, sun’s just starting to set.”

“They have a ruse that gets them inside. We already know they have to blend in with the community. So what can you use to get into a house? Who gets into a house without a problem?”

Diaz goes into the kitchen where in the case file it mentions when the family was finally discovered food was still out on the table. “The window doesn’t have to last long. But it has to be just right. All three families were either eating dinner, or just done with dinner. So why dinner time?” Diaz turns from the stove to face Calum.

“It’s when everyone is together. They’re not just going after a family, but very specific family dynamics. Which means both parents need to present, two kids seems to be a minimum.”

“What’s the average dinner time you’d say? With this job, I eat whenever I fucking can. But before this, excluding people like us, when is the average person sitting down to eat?”

“6, 6:30 I’d guess. That’s assuming the average person is working a job that calls it at 5PM. A town like this is either on the verge of collapsing or being bought out. So I assume a lot of people are traveling outside to the city for work, so the commute might be even later. But I wouldn’t hazard any guesses that our unsub’s just haphazardly picking houses.”

“No, no, you’re right, Hood,” Diaz states, walking over to the table. “I guess what I’m saying is the timing. No one hears anything. But our unsub’s using a gun. That’s not quiet. And there’s not a lot of city noise this far out. They’re spending hours in the house and somehow getting out undetected. But striking at dinner time, with the setting sun, means this person’s around outside the house. But no one’s noticed anything out of the ordinary.”

“Hunting seasons,” Calum returns. “No one really flinches at the sound of a gun shot because people are hunting year ‘round here.”

“And it seems like humans are on the menu.”

“An appetizing thought.”

******

Ivy’s not sure when the chill finally left over the course of the day but it returns when she walks into the precinct and sees the entire room in a frenzy. Kennedy spies her and it’s just a look. Not much different than his resting face, but somehow she knows with that slight arch in his eyebrow. Another family--while they were proding over photos the killer was already moving on, already in the midst of their attack.

And it shouldn’t shock her. Well, to be more accurate, it doesn’t shock her and maybe that’s the thing that scares her. “I’ve been doing this too damned long,” she mutters to herself. “Hood, you’re with me. Get the address and let’s see what that gut of yours cooks up.”

“How’d--Is Kennedy going to be okay with that? The call just came in a few minutes ago.”

“Get the address and tell me how you like your coffee,” Ivy says. Kennedy’s going to come to the scene anyway, but she doesn’t tell Calum that.

There’s not another word before Calum passes in front of her. “Cream and two sugars,” he answers as he goes.

“So Black, got it.”

Paused at the desk of a detective, he looks over his shoulder. “Cream and two sugars,” he re-emphasizes with a tiny smile and holding up two fingers. Police station coffee’s never the best, but it’s better than nothing. When on a case, time is also imperative and they take what they can. Ivy fixes Calum’s cup first, slipping a lid on and keeping the stirrer through the hole. She pours her cup with no additions.

“Not even creamer? Not one?” Calum questions.

“Takes too much time,” she returns. “Burke, you staying?”

“Yeah, Russell got those files over just before the call came in. Besides that crime scene’s bound to be crowded as all hell and I swear if I walk into another house and catch a chill after seven years of doing this job, I just might quit.”

The two ladies laugh. Ivy recovering first to respond, “I need you to keep me sane even though you’re just as much trouble as Diaz.”

“Which is why I’m going to say here, work with Russell. We’re going to need Hood back before the 5’oclock news. Whatever you find at the scene will help solidify our profile and we need it soon. We need the hands on this clock, because it’s ticking ahead of us.”

Ivy nods. It’s no fun being behind. “Kennedy, we’re moving or we’re dying.”

“I trust you. There’s something off about that last one that I want to walk through again.”

“Let’s rock and roll,” she says to Calum, handing him his cup of coffee. “Mr. Cream-and-Two-Sugars.”

The drive is relatively short, all thanks to Ivy’s lead foot. But they need to get there fast, while things are still fresh.

“Did you always want to do this?” Calum asks in the silence of their drive. The radio doesn’t even play. Ivy knew he had questions. He wore them on his face, brows furrowing anytime he was the slightest bit hesitant about something.

“I don’t think I had a choice.”

“What do you mean you didn’t have a choice? We’ve all got choices.”

“My dad worked with the FBI until it killed him. And I think about how he used to tell me it was his job to help put bad people in jail. And I believed him.”

“The bug bit you before you even had a fighting chance.”

Ivy nods, taking a quick glance to Calum. “But if I had a prettier face, I’d stick with liaison too.”

Calum huffs out his laughter. “I went the journalism route first, sue me. Besides, that’s you admitting you think I have a pretty face.”

“I forget faces—so don’t think too highly of it. And I’m probably old enough to be your mother. You attended some lectures, I remembered your name. How’d you convert?”

It’s silent for a moment and Calum contemplates her statement, old enough to be his mother. “Given that my mother has shared her fountain of youth with my sister and I, you might be shocked to know I’m nearing 30. And I converted because of you and your work under Kennedy and his old superior Rogers.”

“All the greats,” Ivy teases, but she doesn't sound impressed. More like tired, used to it.

“But you’re different.”

“Yeah, because somehow the Bureau hasn’t realized their mistake.”

“Mistake?” Calum asks around his sip of coffee.

“Kennedy’s going to retire soon. He's done 15 with our unit. Another ten prior to that climbing through the ranks. Then they’re going to have to find a replacement.”

“You say that like it won’t be you.”

“Because it won’t.”

“You’ve been with Kennedy for so long. He’s obviously going to recommend you, Ivy.”

“He can recommend but people higher up get the final word.”

The truck stops just in front of the house, and Calum knows the most logical thing to do is just focus on the case, walk the scene. Do his job. But he reaches across the console and wraps his fingers around hers for a second with a squeeze. “You’ll get it. They’d be dumb not to bring you to the head of this team.”

“There’s an altar or a shrine. It’s small.”

Calum pauses with his hand on the door. Ivy continues beside him. “Go to the eldest child’s bedroom. In a corner you’ll see the small shrine. Our unsub left one at the last house. And the house before, I’d bet. And this house too. That’s what Kennedy missed. What other cops missed too. Make sure you get it photographed. Besides, I’ve been doing this job too long and don’t know if I’d even want the added responsibility if they promoted me.”

“How’d we miss that?”

“We didn’t miss shit. We saw it when we needed to see it. We see things when we need them.” It's the way she says it, like she has to believe that makes Calum believe too.

The sight rocks Calum--he knew it wouldn’t be easy. But he didn’t know it’d hit him like this. The room spins, just a little. And his heart racing. Mostly because he can’t stand the thought that this could be someone he knows. These people weren’t anticipating their would be like this. And what does that even mean for him? What does his end look like?

“Hey, whoa. Whoa.” An arm comes around his waist and he follows the lead of whomever’s grabbed him.

“I’m okay,” he breathes out. “I’m okay.”

“Yeah, I’m a fudge brownie. It’s okay to not be alright in there.”

Calum rests against the side of the house and squats down just a little. His elbows hit his knees. His breath is heavy, falls from his open mouth almost like he’s going to vomit. But his stomach’s not churning anymore. Not with the fresh morning air hitting his lungs. “Fuck,” he breathes out again, eyes blurring just a little.

“But you’re okay. Take a breather.” Ivy’s shoes turn up in the dirt. "Get him a water, will ya? Hood, take a minute. It's alright. I'll be inside when you're ready." Calum just watches her go. It takes a moment for him to lift his head. It has to get easier. Or least he hopes it does. It takes him a minute, inhaling deeply before he stands up straight.

The rest of them processing the scene goes by in relative silence. Occasionally, Calum pipes in with an addition to their theory. Ivy hums in agreement. And it’s not until they step out and slip out of their gloves that Ivy says anything. “This is why I drink my coffee black.”

“I’m sorry. I really--I don’t know why this one got me.”

“It’s the kids. Kids are the worst.”

Calum looks up to the sky. There’s a few clouds, but not many. “The photos are bad, but in person is way different.”

Ivy watches Calum, the way it takes him a second to come back to earth it seems. “Don’t ask yourself if it gets easier.” When his gaze lands hers, she can see the furrowed brow again. The question drips off his face. “You’ll only disappoint yourself. And this job’s not for the weak of heart. For the people that can’t take some losses with the wins.”

“You said it yourself. You wanted to put the bad people away.”

“Eight year old me wants to believe it’s as easy as putting the monsters away. Thirty-one year old me knows for a fact what the losses are, who gets caught in the cross-fire. It’s not easy, not in the slightest.”

“Innocent lives do add up.”

“Which is why I try not to do math on the job. They all slip up. They all reach a point where their methods don’t satiate the need. They all make a fatal flaw and counting the unfortunate lives on the way to that will have you walking from the Bureau faster than you can blink.”

“So what makes you stay? If it’s all so fucking bad, what keeps you going?”

Ivy nods to the car, pulling the keys from her pocket. “We need to solidify our profile and you need to run press ASAP. But to answer your question, the thing that keeps me going is that fact that they do get caught eventually.”

******

Eventually seems to come up faster than Calum anticipates. He was sure it would take weeks. After getting back to the precinct more information in Russell’s digging found a connection between all the families, a Venn diagram that overlapped to their X on the map. Another couple of days and it all unravelled. It’s a blur, when he tries to think back to it, on the plane. The only grounding thing is when one of the children, a little girl about 6, pointed out the tattoos on his hands. In all this time, he was sure the tattoos would be a barrier to entry--they’d somehow put him in a place that others would think he was nothing but trouble. But somehow, despite the terror she had done through, that little girl liked his tattoos, found some sort of comfort in them.

When he told her they were for his parents, she smiled at him. She said she wanted one for her parents too and then asked if he had anymore and how old he was when he got them. All of which Calum was more than happy to answer while the medic checked over her. Her older brother came soon after, asking a few questions, but overall he was much quieter than his sister. Understandable for what was endured. In the end, Calum’s just glad he didn’t see them staged on a couch, bleeding out onto the cushions.

There’s a small bit of turbulence and the shakes cause Calum to open his eyes for a moment. Ivy’s seated across from him, whiteboard on her lap, headphones in her ears. A tic-tac-toe grid drawn across it in the middle, but in the corners are some swirls, a crude drawing of the shrine from the case. Calum leans forward and tugs on the board just a little. She lets it go without a fight and hands over the marker.

Calum makes an ‘X’ in the top left. “You said this job doesn’t get easier.” He looks up to see if Ivy can hear him and is relieved when she pops out one her headphones. She raises her brows like she wants him to continue with the thought. And Calum’s not even sure he should. Instead, he hands over the board back to her. If seeing death doesn’t get easier, then maybe it just means he gets better at it. Maybe it means that not being okay with death is a good motivator to keep down this path.

“The job doesn’t get easier. You’re still human. You still want a spouse and a kid. You might want two dogs and a cat. You might want that white picket fence one day. You’ll want to close your eyes and not see death. You’ll want to walk down the street and see humans as humans again. You’ll have nightmares. Don’t hide from it. Nothing’s wrong with you for wanting that. But we’re in a world now where we see the horrors--what’s on the other side of everything you wanted. It’s a liminal space and it’s heavy to wade through.”

“I just want to not freak like I did the other day. It’s not easy. But sometimes I fear that maybe I bit off more than I could chew.”

Their game of tic-tac-toe has been forgotten, placed in the seat next to Ivy as she leans forward in her seat. “You said you were converted because of me. What exactly about me was it?”

“You just know things. When you walk onto a scene, you have an air of knowing. How can you just pick up on it in a snap?”

“Well,” Ivy laughs, “if that’s the only reason you want in, I warn you to get out.”

“I want to help. I want to save people,” Calum adds on. But then it hits him. Maybe this wasn’t the business of saving people as much as it was stopping people. Sure, they prevent future murders, but that didn’t always negate for all the lives lost. But they did save that family today. He saved that little girl that wants tattoos like his. “I want to save people and I want to stop people as well,” he finally adds on.

“There will always be monsters in this world,” Ivy warns.

“And there will always be heroes.”

“Make no mistake, Calum. We don’t have capes. We don’t swoop in all the time at just the right moment. Sometimes we are late. Sometimes we’re reacting more than we are being proactive. Sometimes we fuck up.”

His heart stops for just a moment at the mention of his first name. He’s always Hood, or at least has always been Hood. Just like she’s always Thomas to the team. But she said his first name. Unmistakably so. “Did-did you just use my first name?”

“You used my first name, first.”

When had he done that? He didn’t recall, but he couldn’t combat it either.

“Look,” Ivy continues, “the fact remains. We will fail. We will make the wrong call, or the right call just by the skin of our teeth. We will walk down the wrong direction only to figure out, we know it’s the wrong one. We get it right. A lot more often, we get it right and we minimize the death count. But we’re human--you don’t have to take it on if you don’t want. You don’t have to suffer.”

“If I don���t suffer and win, then that little girl suffers and loses. Then the next person loses. And the next. Their suffering or mine--the choice is clear.”

Ivy studies Calum for a moment. She sees the resolve on his face. Just how much sacrificing himself is a no brainer for him. It was a no brainer for her too. But admittedly, she was cursed. Maybe Calum wasn’t. Maybe she could save him, even if she couldn’t save herself. But she wasn’t in the business of saving people, only stopping them.

“I can’t stop you, can I?” she asks.

“Stop me from what?”

“Stop you from killing yourself with this job.”

“If it’s killing you, then why don’t you leave?” His head cocks to the side, now intrigued by her honesty.

“It’s like you said, I got bit before I could escape. I’m cursed. Are you?”

The little girl flashes through his vision again, and his chest tightens for a second before the relief kicks in. He could chase that feeling, the knowledge that he saved someone, one person. And that he helped put away one more person causing harm. “I am now. Ruined--because even though I can’t save them all. I can save some. I can help keep some people safe. I don’t think there’s a better reward than that.”

With a nod, Ivy looks back to their game on the whiteboard. They would’ve tied, she can see it after where she placed her ‘O’. But she hands it back over to Calum. “Kennedy’s going to shit himself when he realizes he’s got too hard heads on his team.”

“You’ll shit yourself when you realize you’re inheriting the second hard-head on the team after Kennedy leaves.”

Ivy scoffs. Of course, Calum still believes in the shiny idea that hard work yields rewards. “And this is where I can still tell you’re new to this--the dreams are still shiny and ideal.”

“All the work you’ve invested, they’d be--”

Ivy interrupts him. “I know, they’d be dumb not to.”

“Then why do you keep saying it won’t happen?”

“I’d call my pessimism a curse. But at this point, I think it’s a personality trait and the truth.”

“And let me guess, this is why you take your coffee black too.”

Ivy winks at him before her smile takes over her face. “You know it.”

#calum hood #calum hood fanfic #calum hood imagine #calum hood fic #calum hood 5sos #calum 5sos #5sos #5sos fanfic #5sos fic #5sos imaagine #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer fanfic #5 seconds of summer fic #fbi!calum #behavior analyst!calum #h writes #calum hood blurb #calum hood x oc

[skzvcr]

Dream of Me Pt 1. - San

Ft: Ex Hongjoong

Tags: Angst, Mentions of Dream Sequences, Mentions of Future, Mentions of Cheating, Mentions of killing, Mentions of Marriage, Strong Language, San x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Time Traveler San Au

2.4k

Smut in the next part

©Sleepyxhan All Rights Reserved

Do not repost on other sites that are not tumblr. Only use the repost button. No translations without permission.

Part 2 - Final

You were walking around the park when a man approached you, he told you his name. San explained your life story. No one else knew what you went through, someone who you barely knew told you all this. He was a stranger who you met mere minutes ago. He even spoke of your plans for a secret marriage to your boyfriend Hongjoong. No one knew, not even Hongjoong's friends. He even spoke of how you met Hongjoong as a kid. You both were in kindergarten, he even spoke of how you and Hongjoong got engaged. You were frightened, yet you felt like you knew San.

"I'll prove that I'm right, I'll show you your future." San looked at you dead in the eye, as he spoke to you.

"I believe you." The words came out of your mouth without hesitation.

"Do you want to know more? I'm warning you, it's all very hard to deal with. Are you sure you would want to know more?" San asked you, as he was sure to speak to you in a secluded area.

"I should, there's a reason as to why I met you. I should have listened to you if by chance I met you in the future." You nodded, as you only spoke the confirmation that San needed.

"If I stand corrected, your parents are opposed to this marriage, they don't believe that Hongjoong should be the one you marry. Well, you marry him, but you're only miserable. You believe that you know all of him, you even trusted him. For proof, I'll leave a detail out of how we met and something else, if you see it then you'll know that you were meant to know. As a result of your marriage, you were condemned." San waited for your response to what he saw you go through.

"What if I make a different choice? Can you see that other path I would choose?" You waited for San to respond to your visibly shaking hands. You started questioning your love really meaning something to Hongjoong.

"I cannot see any other alternatives, I'm a time traveler, I can only see what you went through when I met you. I loved you then, even when you dismissed my opinions on Hongjoong. You said that I was only jealous of him. I never wanted to see you suffer. You never even invited your parents because they opposed it, it was wrong. I am only given a chance to time travel in this time for now to stop you." San sadly glanced at you. You didn't know why your heart was aching for San.

"I'm sorry." You got up to hug San even if it's for a mere moment. You forgot about Hongjoong at the moment.

"I created a time machine, so I'm here. You both married in my presence, we had already met at the time. You also won't be able to wake up until you see your future, it's an effect to seeing your future. Y/n, he even cheated on you before the wedding. That sick in the head dared to." San looked at you in the eye with tears threatening to fall out.

Hongjoong cheated on you, yet San was the most affected. He saw you go through that. You approached San and wiped his eyes.

"Don't, I'm still not over you." San sadly backed away from you. You didn't know how to respond. You couldn't find another way to break the silence.

"San, tell me more." You worried more and more about what situation you got yourself into.

"Y/n, he had a baby. You married him without knowing that he had a son with a woman. You found out and wanted to get divorced. Hongjoong refused to let you go, even when you applied for a divorce. He was controlling. He even had the kid and the woman living with you." San looked down in sadness.

"You one day had enough and decided to kill him for taking away your youth. You told him that you both wouldn't divorce if he came to the apartment building rooftop. Everyone was living in that apartment building, you pushed Hongjoong off the rooftop. You were taken to prison for First-degree murder. Even after his death, you were tormented. My advice for you now, follow him today at night to prove my point." He finally spoke about what he could tell you.

"Thank you, I wish I would've listened to you before. I also hope that I could meet you at this point of my life." You started crying because there was someone who truly cared. You were determined to take the bind off your eyes.

"In two days, at 9 am was the moment we met. I have to go now." San hugged you until he disappeared.

You finally took off to your place while taking a fresh breath of air. The day became sad after San left. You didn't want to believe what you were told, but you shouldn't be fooled any longer. You would finally know who was lying. Hours passed and you finally got in touch with your fiancee. He called you to make sure you were okay.

"By the way babe, my friends are coming over tonight, I can't go see you. I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you." Hongjoong apologized over the phone. He seemed nervous, and you were apprehensive.

"It's fine babe, see you tomorrow." You responded in the usual manner.

You decided to use an excuse to go to his place. There was still light in the sky for you to go observe him. You took your car and waited at a stop that was out of sight to watch Hongjoong. You grew bored, but you needed to know. Good thing you didn't confront Hongjoong without proof when he called you. You waited until it was nighttime. The night stars beamed, you wanted to shine bright like those stars. You hoped to meet San again, you didn't want him to dissipate from your life. Then all of a sudden, you found your answer. Hongjoong ran out of his place to come to get a woman who was as young as you both. You never even met her before. To take away any doubts, Hongjoong even ran to her arms and kissed her on the lips. He was holding hands with her. That was your cue, you got out of your car. You approached both of them from behind and tapped on Hongjoong's shoulder.

"What the fuck, are you doing Hongjoong?" You were now mad that you were betrayed.

"Were you stalking me? Y/n, you're a psycho!!!" Hongjoong screamed even in front of that woman.

"You're a psycho for wanting to marry me even while having an affair, I don't deserve this. Now here's your stupid ring!!!" You finally threw your engagement ring on the street.

"No, you're not doing this to me!!!" Hongjoong gripped onto your wrist so tight.

"I called the police, now let her go!!!" A man came to your rescue and led you out of the situation. You recognized him immediately, it was San. Times changed, you were supposed to meet him in two days. You guessed that events changed since you caught Hongjoong cheating.

"Are you okay? Did he hurt you?" This present time San was just as kind as future time San. You stared at San in awe, he was right.

"I'm okay, thank you." You thanked San and asked for his number just in case Hongjoong came by again.

You drove home and called your parents to apologize. If San was right about this, then it's only right to reconcile with your parents. Now all you needed to do was go to sleep. You snuggled on your bed and slept.

You had dreamt about that future life. You met San at the grocery store when you went to go buy cereal and he was in that same aisle. He helped you reach the cereal you wanted. You both started meeting more and more until he found out you were getting married. He even told you that was walking to his house at night and saw Hongjoong with another woman kissing. Just as you saw them when you confronted them in this time because you changed time, but you dismissed San even when he told you what he saw. You even said that he was jealous and never wanted you to be happy. That same moment, he confessed his love for you, and you told him that you didn't want his worthless love because you loved Hongjoong. You couldn't recognize yourself, you became a monster. You didn't believe San and that led you to your doom at that time. You also saw how San created the time machine and wanted to use it the day of your wedding, but it failed. You committed a crime and were thrown in prison, you would refuse to see San. You also saw every single detail that future time San told you. That was all you could see.

You finally woke up, two days later. It was 6 am when you realized that there would be another encounter. You got ready even if there was still time. You realized the true meaning of love, Hongjoong only made you suffer in the long run. You tried to make things the same to not alter too much. You still dressed in the time you did before when you had to go for groceries. You finally drove to the groceries and went inside and went in just a bit before 9 am. He only said you both saw each other at 9 am. You approached the cereal aisle at exactly 9 am and there he was. He was with another woman, you thought that you should just leave. Then all of a sudden, he called out to you.

"Excuse me, I saw you yesterday. Don't go." San called out to you. You stopped for a moment before turning around.

"Oh hi, thank you for yesterday." You nervously replied as you approached him.

"No worries, but meet my sister Ha Neul." He grinned ear to ear as he introduced his sister and looked at you. You forgot that he didn't tell you his name even when he gave you his number. He only said his name in the future time, but at present time San didn't even have your name.

"I'm Y/n, what's your name?" You grinned as well as you asked San. You forgot that he never told you his name at present time.

"Omg, I'm sorry I didn't tell you my name. My name is San." He was soon told by his sister that he should've introduced himself before. She is pretty just like him.

"I didn't call you because I lost your number. You didn't put a contact name and I accidentally saved it without having your name." You replied. It was indeed true, but you also had been asleep for 2 days. It was all a supernatural experience that you wouldn't forget.

"Y/n, do you have a boyfriend?" Ha Neul asked you and San whispered to his sister to not ask such things.

"No, I got out of a relationship with someone who I realized that I no longer loved because they were bad to me." Both San and Ha Neul apologized.

"I'm over it, San actually saved me. And I took pictures of my arms." You told both of them. You also explained to Ha Neul what happened yesterday.

"Well I have to go now, thank you both." You smiled and said your farewells to the siblings. They both waved and you noticed that San was blushing. It seems like his sister was teasing him about you from the way his sister was looking in your direction.

You decided that you weren't going to break San's heart. As soon as you walked out of the grocery store, you felt like a weight was taken off your shoulders. The sun was shining bright today and you had no regrets. You walked out and embraced the sun rays that blinded your sight at the moment. The fact that San loved you all throughout the future time was comforting, you only wished that you chose him instead of Hongjoong. He loved you enough to save you from your doom, he never intended to make you fall for him. He even respected your decision to not accept his feelings in the alternate future. You planned to change your future.

Everything you saw in the alternate future took place in a span of years, but you fell for San in a span of days. All you needed to do was make him fall for you, he must not love you at the moment. If nothing happens, then it's not meant to happen. You will always be grateful for San since he saved you in both worlds. You refused to go down without trying even once. San said that you hurt him, your heart must have ached for a reason. You must have realized your faults too late and only pushed San away. You refused to make the same mistakes, you were almost involved in a poisonous marriage. There were small details that changed like the first time you both met and you even met his sister when you didn't do so in your alternate future.

You walked to your car as you felt the trees rustle on the shade your car was parked on. You were afraid that San wouldn't love you in this life. If he has no meaning for a time machine, there probably won't be one in the life you changed. All throughout the drive home, you worried that the changes could make it impossible to be with San. It may seem ridiculous, but you were going to go to the end of your newfound love for San. After all, he made so many sacrifices for you and you only hurt him in your alternate future. You finally rolled down your car windows because you felt overwhelmed already. The drive home felt like an eternity, then you noticed that it seemed like you would be getting new neighbors. The moving trucks were parked in the next-door neighbor's driveway.

You felt quite sad these days. You decided to just lounge around your house, you had nothing to do. You were laying down on your couch and were watching a series. Your doorbell rung, you don't have anyone to visit you which only makes you nervous. You look through the peephole and notice Ha Neul and San. Why are they here, could they be the new neighbors? You wondered if what you changed, had an effect on San's life.

#SoundCloud #ateez smut #ateez san #ateez angst #choi san #ateez #san smut #san angst #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #kpop #atiny

[oftenderweapons]

Mold Me New (1) – Taehyung

A Small Town Swoons story

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Wordcount: 3.2k

Genre: ceramic artist!Taehyung, divorced!reader, Strangers to Lovers, Fluff, Angst, Slice of Life

Rating: 18+ (for future smut and explicit thoughts)

Hello to my readers!!!  Welcome to the Small Town Swoons Universe! 🥰✨

In this episode: Introducing the reader’s backstory, exploring her life as a wife and then as a single woman who is slowly getting to know herself as an individual person.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: There are mild curse words, a bit of a sad vibe regarding falling out of love and getting a divorce, description of several bad dates and good ones that end badly, mention of getting drunk, mention of sex toys, mention of one night stand.

In case you like my writing, here is my directory for idol!AUs, scenarios and imagines, and in case you need it, here’s the Spotify music companion.

I forgot to mention, bc I’m dumb and bc we’re becoming one body with two souls, but this chapter (as most of the decent, edited things I post) was beta read by the magical @joheunsaram​ (she’s recently lost her previous blog and she’s rebuilding it, please go say something nice and YOU SHOULD FOLLOW HER SHE’S A QUEEN ,,,,, my queen 🥺✨)

Enjoy 💜✨

Navi: Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7 

When you fall in love with someone, the feeling is like entering a chocolaterie. The scent engulfs you, full and rich and sultry, igniting your senses, the heat making your skin glisten in a light sheen of perspiration, making you exceedingly vulnerable to pointless stuff, like the way your lover exhales. Or their hands skimming your arms.

At least, that was what your best friend had told you.

You had none of that. To you love was a daisy being twirled under your nose, sharing cotton candy, the smell of crisp apples, flannel sheets, the sound of dead leaves crackling under matching footsteps, a sturdy but shiny steel band around your finger suddenly substituted by a golden one.

That had been the beginning of the end. When practicality and simplicity had turned into conventionality and disinterest.

When gifts stopped being things you loved and became things he thought you loved. And then things everyone loved.

When love became a chore, that's when everything crumbled. When kisses became just a good morning and a welcome back, when there were no more laughs echoing in the kitchen, when leaves kept falling but it was your footsteps alone making them crackle, when flannel sheets kept feeling warm but still something was missing — because someone was missing — when suddenly there was no more time for fairs and cotton candy, when daisies became roses, Love stopped making sense. It stopped having a meaning for you.

You were no longer sure of the life you had built with the man of your dreams, the boy you had fallen in love with when you were eight, the guy who had walked with you across the corridors of your high school, who had made you twirl under the lame disco ball of your prom, who had gone through college finals with you, who had spent three summers making your hangout spot into a home, turning the small old shack into a proper place for you to build a new life together. He was your first kiss, your first valentine, your first time. He was the man at the end of the aisle, the man who would walk with you until the last of your days.

But one day he started running and you still walked.

Or maybe you were both running in different directions, no longer on the path to the same destination, your priorities somehow switched.

Of course, it wasn't his fault.

It wasn't yours either.

You had both participated in this small unraveling, and you had both expressed the intention of changing, of finding compromise, an in-between, without either of you actually making the effort of fixing your trajectory, small habits and old pet peeves pulling you even farther apart.

The attempts — multiple ones — were painstakingly embarrassing. There were tears on both sides as you wondered what had caused this sudden rift that separated you — except it wasn't sudden, only your realisation was; the crevasse had been there for way longer. Maybe it had started as a small chipping the very day you met him, and it wasn't until now that you realised how the small sign had turned into an ominous presence, and then into unfathomable, inevitable doom.

And then the divorce.

It had been disgustingly easy, both parties agreeing on the procedures.

You didn't want the house. And you didn't need it. He didn't either.

Selling it had been exceedingly painless, you had shared the money, since he wanted to offer you stability. He already knew you would both suffer and he didn't want you worrying about rent. He was still your friend, after all.

Going back to being alone scared you at the beginning, until you realised that few things were truly bothering you. At least there wasn't this ghost of a human making you doubt all of your plans. You could plan dinner five days ahead or improvise. You could go to the restaurant as a last minute deal. You could go on long walks without the 'I'm sorry baby, emergency' making you rush back to town.

It felt like a bit of a liberation.

And your family's bookshop was doing well enough, since it was situated near the college and it also offered printing service.

Of course there were bad days. Sometimes you woke up searching for a body beside yours, however that feeling had significantly subdued after you had gotten used to the new bed. You missed human contact, being close, intimate with someone, having someone who knows you that deeply.

And then the true nightmare.

Finding someone new.

You were genuinely uninterested in dating. You had given it a go and it had sufficed.

It wasn't your world.

How could it possibly be?

You had never dated. You had basically offered your heart to the person that has always owned it. It's not like you had any experience in that labyrinth that is dating. All those unspoken social norms and the pining and tension. You only knew the comfort of a warm hug, the beauty of a kiss sparking from innocence and affection and slowly turning into steady, warm passion. You didn't like infernos, you liked candles. You liked the domestic hearth. You liked moderation.

And dating was all about extremes, from strangers to 'I'm inspecting your throat' on date one. And then suddenly it's date three and the same guy who brought you to a pizza place and a diner is suddenly going out of his way to bring you to a pretentious, expensive restaurant as a way to propitiate the possibility of you dropping your panties.

You had allowed this foolery only three times. Apparently all the suitable suitors were either really prone to pushing the pedal or had a passion for tongue gastroscopies.

The first one, Albert, had been quite the gentleman on date one. On date two he started making inappropriate jokes with a heavy body shaming undertone — a bit cliché for the stereotypical gym rat. And on date three he had dropped all pretenses at politeness and had outright palmed your ass in public, which made you rightfully uncomfortable. As you pointed that out, he proceeded saying that after all it was your third date and it was time to loosen up a little.

You didn’t even bother staying for dinner, left a bill on the table and left.

No matter the first disappointment, you decided not to let that disrespectful fool slow you down. And since your best friend knew everything about rat headed number one, you allowed her to set you up with one of her colleagues after she reassured you he was nothing like the one before.

Except somehow he was. The first date was at the local pub, and you somehow found yourself getting along well, his jokes were funny and he had good timing, he was relaxed, confident but still a bit clumsy and shy. He could be a good candidate.

But that was before he pushed his tongue to your tonsils as he kissed goodbye.

You gagged.

On date two he admitted you weren’t exactly his type. You were glad to reciprocate the statement after he told you his dream was having four children and a farm, alluding to the fact that his bride needed to be the perfect housewife.

You were pretty adamant that was not the kind of future you wanted for yourself.

Candidate number three was a guy you had met while grocery shopping, and somehow he had impressed you in an absolutely positive way on date one and two. Everything had been perfect, he was kind, considerate and well-mannered. Date three had been innocent, simple, down-to-earth. And then date four. Perfect dinner at his place. He had made you swoon and he had a very pretty cat he was very affectionate with.

He was the first man you had felt desire for in a very long time — almost eight months after your divorce.

The sex had been decent for being a first time.

And then he had entirely disappeared and never texted or called you back, which didn’t sit entirely wrong with you. You wished him all the best but you were actually glad. You liked being you and doing your own thing: having someone too much down your neck, getting in a relationship, having to check in with another person again felt more like a burden than a win.

Maybe it was just a coping mechanism to avoid facing the fact that he had been someone you could have liked, someone you could have built something with.

You were a happy woman, and it’s not like you really felt lacking or incomplete, like some of your single friends felt. And you had no intention of starting a family anytime soon, no matter if your old high school classmates had begun popping out kids left and right. You were more than happy to live the teen and early-twenty years you had spent in a relationship.

You were getting to know yourself in a way most of your friends didn’t have time to — you could already see them going through a midlife crisis after their kids became old enough to navigate life by themselves, which meant no more need for overprotective, and sometimes borderline suffocating, mothers, who suddenly found themselves with too much free time and too little tasks to complete.

Knowing your needs made you a stronger, better woman, and solitude had gifted you a level of introspection and balance that you doubted they could ever reach; maybe that was an arrogant consideration, but you knew there was no way knowing and loving yourself would ever bring you to crying over disrespectful, ungrateful youth whose only fault was that of growing up out of their mothers’ plans.

Unfortunately, there was no way your family — especially your grandmother — could ever tolerate the idea of you not needing a man and a family to be happy.

“Oh, come on, isn’t it time for you to bring a nice fellow back home?”

You shook your head as you and your grandma took a walk along the river, the sunny March afternoon feeling way too nice to stay at home. “Granny. There’s no people like Grandad anymore.”

“Oh, darling. You’re starting with the wrong role model. Not even back in my days we had men like him. He was the exception.” She nodded to herself with a sweet smile, remembering the husband she had lost a few years back.

“It’s so frustrating. And after all that happened… You know how it was. We were together for years. He was the only one I had. I don’t even know how to do these things. And books cannot teach you stuff like that. The more you read, the more you realise that most of these men had never even seen a rom com.”

“Oh, come on, but you have the internet these days! Can’t you find him in there? You have all these phones and computers and everyone has them, there must be a good one in the internet.”

She always said that “in the internet”. Like it was a physical place.

“I don’t even want to look in there, Granny. There are so many dangers in there.” You shuddered as you thought at the funny instagram pages where the people posted screenshots of the worst descriptions. All the embarrassing playboys and the fishermen and the lame wanna-be poets.

“Right… How can you know he is really is a person?” She considered, patting your back proudly. “You’re pretty. And you’ve always had the most perfect bum of all your cousins. Just like mine!” She grinned cockily, giving a playful smack to your ass, making you laugh loudly.

“It won’t last long.” You said, looking down. Solitude scared you sometimes. Being old and alone could be hard on the spirit and you had a feeling that old hag you would curse your dumb arrogance and inconsideration. However, for now you were still somehow making it through. Your divorce was finalised almost ten months ago. You could still consider yourself just fresh out of it.

“You’re smart. And I’m sure you have a lot to offer. You’re a good woman, and you’re far from being too old. There’s never a thing such as too old. Don’t let yourself be fooled. Look at me.” She said. “I’m still living a good life. Herbert has left me but I’m still here. Walking. Cooking. Drizzle keeps me good company.” She smiled sweetly at the mention of her dog, a lovely large poodle elegantly strolling at her side, its light grey fur finely trimmed by your grandmother’s expert hands. She had been a hairdresser for decades: learning how to keep Drizzle’s coat had been a cup of tea for her and he’d kept her distracted from grief after your grandpa passed away.

Her face formed a meditative pout. “Maybe you should just get a dog. Or even better, a cat. You’ve always looked like a cat child to me. So quiet and focused, like you knew some secret that nature would speak to you alone. You were always so attentive as a child!”

You smiled and looked at the path under your feet. Drizzle stayed unbothered as a loud, angry dachshund walked towards him, barking annoyingly. You had never felt sympathy for that small evil breed.

“I think I could get a kitten one of these days. Or a cat, from the shelter.”

“I’m sure you’ll find it in the internet!”

“So we’re really doing the party thing?”

“Listen, baby. It’s gonna be your first party as a free woman. Real mind blowing birthday sex.”

“I’m not a virgin, you know?” You stared at your face in the mirror, spreading some moisturiser over your forehead, inspecting the small lines there. You shrugged and let them be.

Maybe you would spend your best years single and find a sugar baby in ten or twenty years. Wait, weren’t those called toy boys?

Who cares.

Maybe it was time to get the post-grad you had always dreamed of. You would need to check your bank account before making that decision — maybe finally telling yourself yes could be the real birthday gift. That is, beside the huge dildo waiting in your drawer. Not being attracted to men or women didn’t mean you didn’t like sex.

You just found it difficult to imagine being with someone.

“Darling I’d bet an arm and a leg he never gave it to your right. You just need a bit more experience.”

All you needed was a hot bath, some candles and a good book. No man, no one night stand, no birthday sex could possibly make you as happy as decent jazz, wine and a novel.

“Why aren’t we doing that wine tasting at the winery out of town?”

“Because I want you choking on cheap alcohol, having all the fun you didn’t have on your twenty-first birthday because you were planning your own wedding. And I bet you’re the only one who wasn’t fucked in the bathroom of the Wickhead.”

Terry could be incredibly crude, but you loved her nonetheless. You loved her even more for it. She had never hidden anything from you, she had told you even the most embarrassing details of her own life. And she had always been the kindest, most faithful friend: she had driven you way out of town when you were eighteen and your period was late and you needed to buy a pregnancy test without all everyone and their dog knowing; she had chosen your wedding dress for you, spotting it and telling you it was going to be the one before you could even see it. When your marriage had started crumbling, she had spent countless nights with you, keeping you company when your husband was busy with his business trips. Though Terry had insinuated cheating, you knew he would never break your trust like that, and she had decided to trust your better judgement.

You had simply fallen out of love with each other.

And when you had moved into your new apartment, Terry had helped you repaint the walls and build the extra bookcases and install the shelves and fill your wine stand. Before leaving she had grabbed an unfamiliar box from her car, placing it on top of your bed, opening it and spreading out a set of “single necessaire”, as she called it. A couple toys, lube, condoms. To celebrate your re-found sexual promiscuity, she had said, though you objected, it was hard rediscovering something you had never had.

She had shaken her head and left you to “familiarise” yourself with everything.

“You know I’m not exactly a party person, Terry. This will end badly.” You said, sitting on your bed with your back against the headboard, your legs stretched out before you.

“You can allow yourself some fun once in a decade, you know?” You could hear her scoff on the phone.

“But I do have fun. Book. Wine. Bingo!” You explained, rolling your eyes as the booed.

“Come on, do it for me. Do it for your single friend who wants to get drunk and possibly sixty-nine? Please?” The other thing wrong with Terry is that if you ever met her in person, you would face the sweetest five foot three and a half — she insisted on the half — human being you could ever meet, with pretty wavy blonde hair and wide, sweet green eyes, the most boopable button nose and a sprinkle of freckles on her golden skin. She literally glowed in sunlight and her flowy gowns always made her look like a goddess: you could see men fighting for her, dying for her and going to war for just one of her gentle smiles.

“Don’t you have a FWB for that sixty-nine thingie?” You asked with an exceedingly inquisitive tone. It had been a while since she last updated you.

“Dumped him.” She replied curtly.

You tutted before exhaling. Emotionally constipated people — what’s wrong with them?

“He’s dating someone since he was ready for a relationship.” Terry sounded a bit colder than usual.

“And you weren’t?” You asked. You felt your tone hesitate with slight concern. You knew she would just put up a wall and ignore your question.

Fortunately, she didn’t. “I’m not ready to talk about that. It’s complicated, Frog.”

She was hurt and wanted a distraction.

“Okay, Terry. We’re going to get rip roaring drunk this Saturday.”

The line went silent.

“You know I love you right?”

“I love you too, sweetie. Now go to sleep, you have an early shift tomorrow.”

The line went silent after you bid each other goodnight, your body settling underneath the sheets once you realised your eyes were fluttering shut  as you tried to read a few pages to put yourself to sleep.

Placing down the book, you hugged the extra pillow, settling your face in the corner between your sleeping pillow and your spare one, the heavy woolen comforter acting like a weighted blanket. You placed another pillow behind your back, making a soft cocoon all around you.

Yes, sometimes you still missed being hugged to sleep.

The taglist is open!

Navi: Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7

#taehyung x reader #kim taehyung fanfiction #thetruthuntoldnet #thebtswritersclub #Taehyung strangers to lovers