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radiodread · 1 year

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So the Given manga ended today, and I felt like airing out my opinions on the last chapter and the series as a whole. Spoilers galore, possibly controversial opinions, and other stuff in a long essay below the cut.

Starting with what I thought of the last chapter: weakly executed but highly unsurprising that it was. A lot of things were left unsaid and unresolved, most of them issues pertaining to one of the main characters, Ritsuka. Remember back in one of the early chapters when Yayoi told Akihiko that “Ritsuka hasn’t been eating or sleeping properly, he’s just absorbed in his music”, a scene that was also kept in the anime’s fourth episode? Yeah, that. It’s been hinted at since then that he still doesn’t sleep well (like when he showed up at Hiiragi and Shizusumi’s school having finished the demo, heavily implying that he’d stayed up all night given the erratic look and vibe he gave off.

Then there’s his insecurities re: himself, Mafuyu, and his relationship with Mafuyu that were seemingly blown away once again by music. Music will always be there to save the day! Absolve all of these people of their responsibility to sort things out like normal people do, instead they just play some music and all is well again. Like magic! Wow. (This was sarcasm, by the way.)

Speaking of which, Mafuyu still never told Ritsuka anything about Yuki. Absolutely nothing. All this time, I felt like he had a responsibility to do so since Ritsuka was dragged into this mess first by Mafuyu who naïvely seemed to think that starting to date someone new would make him magically get over Yuki, yet it seemed to only make it worse and thus it made Ritsuka have to suffer. Then Ritsuka was dragged deeper into it by Hiiragi and Shizusumi who told him a few things about Yuki that Mafuyu should’ve been the one to tell Ritsuka, not Mafuyu’s childhood friends who didn’t know Ritsuka and also weren’t as close to Yuki as Mafuyu was.

The icing on the goddamn cake was the end of the chapter, was Mafuyu saying to Ritsuka “when we get back, let’s do it”. And it only just now hit me that this was the exact same thing Yuki told Mafuyu on the beach. Minus the bathroom bit.

First of all, weird callback. Second of all, cheap way to end it all off. I’ve felt since a long time ago that Kizu has gotten tired of the series and that’s why the story quality has dwindled drastically. But this just felt like her shrugging and saying “let’s just get this shit over with”. Which is a bit of an insult to the people who followed this series religiously either from the start or decided to tag along somewhere during its run.

One thing that also really irked me was the whole bit that happened after Hiiragi and Shizusumi came into Given’s room after their live performance post-debut. How Hiiragi says that Ritsuka “sometimes belongs to SYH” and how Ritsuka obviously didn’t even know this was a thing (isn’t this also a bit of a red flag, where his management goes behind his back and approves something in his stead?), and wasn’t gung-ho about it once it sunk in but agreed to do it anyway because he’s such a good fucking boy and I’m so upset on his behalf that it kind of paves the way for people to take advantage of him now that he’s a professional musician. Mafuyu and Ritsuka still clearly have things to sort out given how Mafuyu was jealous and aggravated when Hiiragi yapped about stealing Ritsuka from them and how Given had to do better to steal their man back. Unsurprisingly, communication is still lacking in the Given manga overall, and that’s where it’s also left unresolved at the very end.

(Remember when Haruki said that music was [all about] communication?)

(Yeah, me too.)

((Yes, I absolutely scrambled across the floor like a deranged crab to get the first volume out of my bookshelf to find this exact page. Dedication™))

There’s not much for me to say about the other characters in the series since they got their so-called “happy endings”. I’m very glad for Ugetsu that he got his happy ending, that he seems happy, like he’s moved on. In the promo art for the last chapter, there’s a mystery person standing next to Ugetsu, and while nothing is obviously confirmed- maybe he has a new love in his life?

In any case, he certainly looked happy in the last chapter and in previous chapters where he’s appeared since his breakup with Akihiko, and he arguably got the best ‘ending’ out of all of them. Haruki and Akihiko are moving in together which felt like a logical next step for them, and I’m glad things worked out for them. As for Shizusumi and Hiiragi... who the hell knows. Their entire arc was a mess, the way they got together screamed non-con and BL tropes galore. Holy cow. Yeah. Anyway!

As for the series overall, I’m struggling nowadays to form a single, coherent opinion. I really loved it up until chapter 19 when Akihiko sexually assaulted Haruki (that was basically where Kizu started picking up those BL tropes that at least I thought she would steer clear of... silly me) but then I still loved how he redeemed himself and how that arc ended. Then after chapter 28, things just went downhill for me and I haven’t liked the series as much at all since.

I heavily disliked the Hiiragi arc because of how it introduced things and then glossed them over, that so-called “sex scene” between Hiiragi and Shizusumi that I personally would call something else, the way Ritsuka’s entire character was shoved into the nearest bin (it seriously made me think that Kizu is the first mangaka I’ve stumbled upon who really hates the main character of her manga so much that she takes everything out on him as a result - whew!) and how he then just never got any sort of proper resolution to his story. I liked the first half of the manga, I guess, so in the end my opinion stays pretty wobbly. I’ve never shied away from admitting that I’m heavily Ritsuka-biased and I’ll stay that way. The boy deserved so much better than what he got and that’s one of my major takeaways, unfortunately. For a series that I once really liked, this certainly feels like a disappointing end.

#given #given manga #radiodread.txt #given manga spoilers

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flythesail · 1 year

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I think the finale felt like a natural ending to everything set up throughout the season except for where we started.

And by that I mean Kerri.

The catalyst of it all is Cassian's search for his sister or else he'd never have a run in with those cops.

The last mention we got of Kerri was in episode 7. As Cassian is on his way out, Maarva tells him:

And just one more thing... Just... Stop searching for your sister. It's a fantasy. There were no survivors on Kenari. What happened there was not your responsibility. You were a child. Let it go.

Which 1) no ❤️ and 2) Maarva you literally separated them.

But to dissect what this would imply, Maarva is saying there were no survivors.

Yet we know from episode 1, there was a girl from Kenari at the brothel at one point. From the lady who works there: There was a girl from Kenari, but she left several months ago.

Granted, she could be lying. But I'm unsure why she would since the girl is long gone anyway.

So what could the takeaway be? That there are survivors from Kenari. After all, what proof does Maarva have? Does she just assume because they saw the incoming Republic ship?

I feel like we have to be missing some piece of information. If Cassian has been searching for Kerri for a long time, I'd even go as far to think he might have returned to Kenari. Like if you're going to search for your sister, it would be logical to start with the last place you saw her. Kenari doesn't seem to be widely known, so where else could you get info about it?

On the topic of Maarva taking Cassian from Kenari though, it's complex. Yes, she might have saved his life. That's certainly what she believes.

But that doesn't erase the fact that she sedated him to do so, separating him from family and the only home he'd ever known.

With this, I also wonder how much Maarva knew about the mining disaster that presumably killed all the adults. (Which, I still question because wouldn't some adults stay back to watch the kids? There has to be more going on there). But anyway, Maarva taking Cassian only feels more icky when you acknowledge she might not have even known the only survivors on Kenari were kids. Like, for all she might have known, his parents could have been nearby.

Regardless of anything said outside of the show, however, I don't think the show itself has a strong stance on whether Maarva "saved" Cassian.

Maarva is made out to be an inspirational figure, primarily by being a vocal supporter of the rebellion.

But she's never at any point honored by others for saving Cassian. That's a good thing.

It's complex and the almost indirect way it's addressed leaves it at that.

I'm trying to make a point here lol, so I'll say Cassian is conflicted too. He loves Maarva for who she was as his mother and respects her for the rebel she was. Yet feelings of discontent over his separation from Kerri are there.

After Maarva tells him to stop looking, he says nothing. He ignores that and more or less leaves.

I think a lot of it comes down to Maarva's age and also time. Maarva is old and he cares about her, so he sees this as a fight not worth having. Likely because it's been had before and it never goes anywhere.

Maarva will tell him to give it up. Cassian will not.

Now I really would have liked Cassian to get a chance to point out Maarva separated them. But maybe the point is that a lack of chance aligns with this storyline as a whole.

Season 1 begins with the search for Kerri, and the finale does not even so much as mention it.

Okay, maybe it's just poor writing. Kerri was the catalyst and they never went into it more than that.

But the writing of the rest of the show is intentional enough that I'd like to say "unsaid" could be the intention.

Maarva separated Cassian from Kerri. That's a fact and one that goes unsaid.

Cassian and Kerri were separated a decade+ ago. Truly, what is the likelihood of a reunion? Even if Kerri did survive, she could be anywhere under any name. And odds are even if he can find somewhere she's been or someone who knows her, they won't even know she's from Kenari or had a brother.

So what happened to Kerri? That too will remain unsaid.

It's a somber ending and not even an ending. After everything, Kerri watching Kassa go is the last we see her.

That's the last Cassian will see of her too. She'll forever be the little girl he left, certain he would return to her only to never.

It's an unfinished story because that's what it is. Unsatisfying because that's what it is.

#idk but i wanted to work out my thoughts fksksk #andor #andor spoilers #flythepost

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frozenambiguity · 1 year

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dilucisms has spotted a baby kaeya, and decided!

wrap him up in a blanket, read him all the best stories, brush and braid his hair, give him tasty snacks, tuck him into bed, cuddle with him ... and then cry because all of this is probably just a dream anyway 8') ... ;~;

Diluc did not have to do all of this. Any of this. Yet he always did. As if it was an established procedure; a routine so carefully crafted it would be sacrilegious to disregard it even for a single day. Diluc committed to this cause like Kaeya had never seen someone commit to anyone or anything. And not because he was obliged to, but because he wanted to. That small yet so impactful detail never failed to make Kaeya's little heart swell with emotion. Every so often, he found himself thinking about... all of this. How he had been welcomed in the warmest of homes, by the gentlest of people... and how much it pained him to keep everything about himself a lie. Did he deserve this genuine, pure-like affection when all he knew was how to deceit? He did not think so. Emphasis must be given to the fact that he did not feign his emotions --- his adoration toward the people of the Winery was as bonafide as it could ever be. But the lies were still there. The concealing, the veiling... Necessities that had become habits now became patterns. Patterns that he had been instructed to keep repeating, much like a vicious circle, for the sake of his safety.

At this point, Kaeya had long stopped hearing Diluc's storytelling, his mind somewhere else altogether. Although he did not show it, he was starting to become... anxious. All this anxiety had been induced by him, of course. And his circumstances. And everything else. He knew he could not show it to anyone else. Could not truly rely on anyone else, or deliver the naked truth, the ugly truth, the heavy truth. But sometimes... but sometimes he wondered if Diluc could sense his silent cry for help. Kaeya did not want him to notice. But at the same time, he wanted him to notice. Because if there ever was a time and place where he had to be confronted with reality, he wanted to have Diluc by his side. Everything would be all right if Diluc was by his side.

Soon enough, the older brother would realize that Kaeya was no longer paying attention to the story. "Kae...?" he would ask before placing the book on the nightstand nearby. Then, soft covers would rustle, his small body coming closer and cuddling next to Kaeya's. Bright ruby eyes would soften, and a gentle smile would appear on his features before a single laugh-like exhalation escaped him. 'You're getting sleepy, aren't you...?' --- his look would seem to imply. And the truth was... No. Kaeya was not getting sleepy. But he could not deny the tiredness of mind that was indeed consuming him. In that sense, one supposed Kaeya desired to let his mind wander, so he could forget everything for a little while. Perhaps succumbing to sleep, next to the warm comfort of his brother, was not such a bad idea after all.

But there was so much his little heart could take. With a shaky breath, he would allow his eyes to rest, struggling to contain a small tear that would soon threaten to run down his face, its presence enhanced by the moonlight in which they both bathed.

«Hey, 'Luc...?» He would say, tiny hand reaching for the comfort of another. Seeking reassurance. That this was indeed happening. That he was safe with his brother. «Promise me. Promise me we will always... stay together. Promise me... you will never leave me...». No matter what. Was what was left unsaid, for the sleep fairies would soon arrive, and take him to the fairy tale world. Where brothers stuck by each other. Through the good and the bad. Always together.

#dilucisms #【 ic | fool you once; fool you twice. 】#{{ oh i'm on the floor }}

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zoeykallus · 2 years

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Echo – There For You 1 – I'll Stay With You

Echo X Female!Reader

Warnings: Mention Of PTSD Like State

Comfort/Fluff/Vulnerable Echo/Reader Comforts Echo/Implied Romance

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Author's Comment:

For now this is a Oneshot, but is planned to be a series, sometime (I don't know when yet) later.

@mybigfatspoonielife hit me with this idea/request, so here you go, I hope you like it. I haven't written much about Echo yet, so I have to feel my way in first, but I hope you still like it. As I said before, I need to get my other WIP's done first than I can come back to this and spin this story further :) So this is kind of a short teaser.

_________

Following Chapters:

2. Just You And Me

3. Under Cherry Blossoms

4. I Can't Lose Her

5. The Scent Of Memories

6. A Little More Time

7. Heat In A Cold Night

8. Traditions

9. Revelations

10. Sweet And Painful

11. Tears In The Dark

12. Guilt

13. Everybody Needs Somebody

14. A Real Embrace

15. Veterans

16. Hidden Things

17. Delirium

18. Help Is On The Way

19. With A Bang

20. Permanent Damage

21. Until Some Day

22. No Things Left Unsaid

23. Ups And Downs

24 - Truth And Consequences

25 - Back Home

26 – Distraction

27 - Desperate Times

28- Wreckage

29 - The Things We Don't Remember

I'll Stay With You

You've been traveling with the guys of the Bad Batch for a while now, for a few months. Ever since the day you met Echo, when you ran into his arms while fleeing from some Stormtroopers. In fact, you had run him over and tumbled down a side alley.

Since that day, you've been on the road with the boys. At first, it had been a temporary arrangement, an invitation to get you away from Onderon, but by now, neither you nor the boys could imagine going your separate ways again.

In your hiding place on Endor, Echo and Tech had built a scanner together, basically it was there for all of them, should emergency examinations be necessary. Actually, though, Tech had thrown the idea into the room at the time because Echo had to be regularly examined and maintained due to his cybernetic physical peculiarities since the Citadel.

It had taken many credits, time and patience, but finally the scanner was ready and functional.

Echo hated these examinations, it was obvious to see and you could feel it, just as you perceived many things around you. Hunter liked to call you the empath, when once again you knew exactly what was going on inside him and addressed his concerns before he did.

Sometimes it was very practical, but sometimes it was a burden for you, this very special empathy, you could not always control and it could be too much for you on some days.

Tech had suspected a connection to the force, but that was not the case, you had nothing to do with this force-thing. You were still special, but just different.

Today was one of those days when Echo had to go for a scan. He trusted Tech, but he didn't trust the machines, didn't like lying in the narrow tube, didn't like the sounds of the machine. Each scan took him back to when the Techno Union abused his mutilated body for its own purposes, rebuilding him and hooking him up to machines that controlled and subjugated his will.

Of course you knew about it, he hadn't told you much about it until now, but you felt his discomfort very clearly every time it was time for a scan. You went along this time, Tech, Echo and you, stood at the scanner and Echo took off the armor pieces of his equipment.

Echo was having trouble taking some of the pieces off one-handed, so you carefully helped him do it.

"We're ready," Tech said, "You can lie down on the table."

Echo hesitated. You sensed the restlessness rising in him, the fear bubbling under the surface.

When he finally lay down, you stood close to the scanner and said softly, "I'll stay here if you want."

Shyly he looked at you and smiled tentatively.

"You don't have to, it's okay."

With a chuckle you said, "I know I don't have to, but I'm happy to do it".

His expression told you even without words that he was grateful.

You couldn't hold his hand because it would distort the scan, but you spoke calmly to him as the stretcher automatically slid into the tube of the scanner.

Echo tensed, every muscle left in his body was hard as stone.

"Echo, breathe slowly with me," you said quietly but loudly enough to drown out the buzzing of the scanner, counting the pauses between breaths for him.

When you felt he was breathing evenly again, you told him, "There's a nice little restaurant on Alderaan, in the middle of nature. It's in the mountains, between some big trees. At this time of year, the meadows that line the way up to this place bloom in every color imaginable. Red, blue, yellow, purple, orange, all the colors you can imagine. Nearby is a waterfall that falls from the mountains into the valley. You can see it from the terrace, it glitters in the sun like sparkling diamonds and the sound of the water is almost like background music."

You could perceive that Echo had relaxed, you knew he was imagining this place in his mind, being there and seeing the waterfall, the flowers, the sunlight.

The next moment the scan was already over and the stretcher came out of the tube. Echo sat up and looked at you.

"How do you know about this restaurant?" he asked with interest, the machine completely forgotten for the moment.

"A friend lives on Alderaan, she invited me there once, a year or two ago," you explained with a smile.

"Do you think that place still exists?" he wanted to know, slowly putting his armor back on.

You helped him and said, "I think so, this restaurant makes the best food, in a wonderful location and affordable too."

You guessed what he would do next as he looked at you shyly and scratched the back of his head nervously.

"Would you let me invite you there?" he asked "It sounds so nice, I would love to see the place with my own eyes."

Tech said from the background, "The scan looks good, no deviations or other special issues. I'll leave you guys to... alone" and retreated from the medical area of your shelter back into the main room.

As Tech closed the door behind him, you were putting the second shoulder plate on Echo and said with a smile, "I thought you'd never ask me out."

Echo's skin was paler than his brothers, a lot of that had to do with what had happened to him back then, but at the moment, there was a definite, healthy flush to his cheeks.

"You wanted us to um... go out?" he asked, surprised.

"To use Tech's words; I thought that was obvious," you replied with a smirk.

Echo chuckled, "No, unfortunately not. I mean you're always nice to me, but so are you to the others.... however, you are very sensitive and always seem to know when I need you."

That was really the case. Echo was a soldier, a good one, a brave one at that, but there were moments when the past caught up with him and drowned him in terrible memories full of fear and despair. Those scans were an example of those moments. With you, everything was so much easier for him, so much more pleasant. He loved listening to you, liked your voice, the way your lips moved. He often imagined kissing those lips, but never dared to give in to this impulse.

At the moment he looked at your lips again and had the same thought. Your heartbeat accelerated as you realized what he was thinking about and you hoped that this time he would give in to the impulse.

You decided to help yourself and said, "Echo, would you kiss me?"

He blinked in surprise, the pink on his cheeks was back.

"Kiss you? Me? I... would love to... uh is that what you want?"

As you nodded, you could see his pupils dilate so that his golden brown eyes seemed to darken, just before he got up from the table, leaned toward you, put his healthy arm around you, closed his eyes, and pressed his lips to yours. They were unexpectedly soft and warm.

Your hands wandered down his neck as you gently returned the pressure of his lips, until unexpectedly you felt his tongue pressing gently against your lower lip, seeking entrance.

Heart pounding, you complied with the gentle request and felt heat rise within you as your tongues met in a velvety collision.

He was so tender, gentle, curious with his kiss that you melted in his arms.

When there was a knock on the door, you both flinched in fright and pretended nothing had happened when Hunter suddenly entered the room.

"Hey, Tech said the scan looks good," he said cheerfully.

"Um, yeah, all good," Echo returned awkwardly.

Hunter looked from one to the other, listening to the rapid heartbeats and picking up one thing or another with his senses.

"Oh, I'm disturbing you right now," he said apologetically with a smirk, "Sorry."

Hastily he retreated again and closed the door behind him.

Echo and you looked at each other and both had to laugh.

"Where were we?" you asked innocently.

Echo's arm immediately reached around your waist again and pulled you close to him, then you felt his lips on yours once more....

Echo blinked when you touched his arm. He licked his lips as if he could still taste and feel you on them from his daydream, but of course that was nonsense.

"Echo, are you dreaming?" you asked him gently.

He sat up as Tech said, "The scan is done, everything is fine".

He nodded to his brother before turning back to you.

"Um, yeah, I was imagining this place you were talking about, the restaurant".

You smiled delightedly.

"So I've successfully distracted you then," you stated with satisfaction.

"Would you like to go there with me? I would like to invite you there, to see the place with my own eyes", he said almost the same words as in his daydream.

"Oh, I'd love to," you said surprised by the initiative of the usually shy Echo.

He smiled at you in satisfaction and slid off the table to his feet, and with your help he put his gear back on.

His gaze briefly roamed over your face, lingering on your lips, he felt that impulse again, but here in reality he didn't dare kiss you, not yet. He wasn't ready yet, but he planned to do it in the near future, maybe when you had been in that restaurant on Alderaan.

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elriell · 3 years

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Some thoughts on Poppy x Cass x Kieran & The Joining.

After some awesome chats with the wonderful peeps ( @silverlinedeyes , @azriiel , @rhyssescups & @azrielisababe ) I think that there are several little tidbits that really hint at The Joining or potentially more, I know it is a pretty mixed bag of opinions but here are some of mine. [Spoilers: TCOGB]

Implication vs. Foreshadowing

“Casteel’s arm curled, tightening around my shoulder, drawing me closer. My breath snagged as his movement triggered Kieran. He shifted behind me, and my pulse felt like a trapped bird. A sleek, muscled thigh slid between mine, pressing in. I had no idea if it was Casteel’s or Kieran’s.”

“I didn’t know when I’d stopped thinking about the fact that it wasn’t just Casteel’s body that touched mine, it wasn’t his chest that my head fell back against.”

“But that wasn’t the only explanation for why I was so warm. Heat pressed against my back. A heavy arm lay over my waist and a leg was tucked between mine.”

The first time they... have fun, he does so with Kieran nearby.

She could have easily left the joining in the air, having implied it but not intending to follow through yet we get 23 mentions, alongside several moments of highly sexual/emotional connection between the three.

Instead throughout the book we are slowly introduced to the prospect of the three of them gently, coaxing them in to the storyline repeatedly through AKOFAF.

“Cass is too jealous...”

“A ghost of a smile appeared. “And then he’d be…intrigued.”

My mouth opened, but my mind took that and leapt with it. I had nothing to say. Absolutely nothing, but I thought about what I had read about the wolven and the Atlantians. There was a bond between some of them, and while not much was known about what that bond entailed, I was confident that a Prince was of the class that wolven would be bonded to. I wanted to ask, but considering I was in a tub and naked, now wasn’t the time.”

There is way to much we do not know about their bond, or their past to make that statement in my opinion, I think ordinarily I would agree, except with Kieran, he is the one person I could see Cass trusting with Poppy.

Not to mention textually speaking, he brings it up plenty and never seems offended by the idea.

“I’m not judging either.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “You’re not?”

“I’m not,” I insisted.

“So, you’re interested then?” he murmured.”

“Did you bookmark the chapters detailing how Willa spent afternoons entertaining not one but two suitors, one in front and the other—?”

“You seem to know a lot about that book.”

“I love that fucking book,” he said, and my jaw ached from how hard I was clenching it. “So, you’re interested then, Princess. What a wild side you have.”

“Look, I know you’re not looking for this marriage to go beyond the necessary,” he said, and that strange, stupid ache in my chest pulsed. “So, it’s not even something you need to worry about. But the Joining is meant to strengthen the bond that’s already there, and ensure that the partner is also a part of that bond. It’s not done lightly, and again, it is not always a sexual thing. I know it’s been done where everyone kept their body parts to themselves.”

“I can always read to you,” Casteel offered. “I still have a certain diary with me. There is a chapter I’m sure you’ll be interested in. Miss Willa has the same sleeping arrangement—”

“No. Nope.” I screwed my eyes closed. “Not necessary.”

“Are you sure?” Casteel seemed to have wiggled closer. His entire leg pressed against mine.”

All of these instances are in reference to the Joining/Kieran. Never does he imply jealousy or something he would disagree with, if anything we are told how much stronger it would make the bond (though we have yet to see where it stands) and also include Poppy. You cannot convince me that she would bring this Joining up so many time only to have it never come to fruition.

Potential Breadcrumbs

“A hundred different thoughts and emotions exploded through me, so many, so fast, I couldn’t make sense of them.”

This is during the cuddle scene, this really screams foreshadowing for her emotions and the tug-of-war she is going to undergo!

“I…” I looked around, seeing nothing but thick fog and Kieran standing above us, staring behind me and breathing just as heavily as Casteel. Confusion swept through me.”

“Just as heavily as Casteel.” interesting choice of words.

So while we are on the topic let’s speak about Poppy & Kieran;

“Reaching for the blanket, I tugged it to my waist. A muscle flexed in Kieran’s jaw. “He didn’t force himself on you?”

“You’re okay?” Kieran asked, and I felt Casteel nod. “Penellaphe?”My tongue felt heavy, but I managed to work out a muffled, “Yes.”

He is not only focused on Casteel’s wellbeing but also Poppy’s. We also get significant growth between them and their comfort with each other...

“He lifted his brows. “Are you worried about me?” Crossing my arms, I nodded.

“Don’t be nice to me,” he replied, and I sensed amusement from him. “It weirds me out.”

“Sorry.” He smiled then as he walked to where I stood. “You don’t sound remotely sorry.” I grinned at him.

“Do me a favor,” Kieran said, looking down at me. “Protect your Prince, Poppy.”

They both understand each other because they both understand their love for Casteel and desire to protect him.

“Still caring for him would only lead to heartache,” I whispered, knowing the truth right then and there. I did care. I never stopped caring. And acknowledging that felt as if I’d slipped under the black water.

“It doesn’t have to,” Kieran said. “But even so, sometimes, the heartbreak that comes with loving someone is worth it, even if loving that person means eventually saying goodbye to them.”

The roughness in his tone spoke more than his words shared. “You sound like you have experience with that.”

This is so cryptic. Either way, it is a beautiful scene where they are opening up to each other and being genuine, not to mention the subtle hints at it being “worth it” despite the pain. Could Kieran have love/d Cas? We know from JLA that she said that most Wolven are Bi/Poly.

“I wasn’t sure how I could come to terms with it even when I had time. “I don’t...”

“You don’t want this.” Kieran finished for me, his wintry gaze meeting mine.

We can only speculate what this is referring to but I don’t think it is strange to think it could be the Joining, not to mention JLA said she wrote a scene that was unlike any of the smut she has ever done before and it occurs at the beginning of the book or near it... I am guessing something will urge them to need to do the joining, perhaps to reform the bond between Kieran and Cass that was severed.

This goes hand in hand with my theory that something will happen that separates them and has Poppy/Kieran having to go on a mission for Cass either with or without him. I think this could be how she finds a way to balance out the scales in the development in their relationships as PoppyCass has a full book more than with Kieran.

Not to mention this early review of the book mentions “sharing” & “watching” this heavily implies the Joining could happen.

Kieran & Cass

“If I had turned to Casteel in my sleep, Kieran had also turned, as if Casteel were a magnet that drew both of us.”

I strange turn of phrase. My thoughts are if a Poly Ship or alike were ever to happen there would need to be complete trust, a lack of jealousy and be functional much like HeronGrayStairs.

I truly believe the potential is there between PoppyCassKieran.

“Disbelief and anger radiated from him, but I felt something else, something deeper that was warm and stronger than the anger. “I know why you’re doing this,” Kieran whispered.”

“Casteel said nothing for a long moment and then said, “It’s not the only reason.” Words went unsaid between them, but were understood nonetheless.”

Their bond is undeniably strong and I truly believe there is more to it than meets the eye, unquestionably they love each other, the question remains how.

“When a bonded elemental takes on a partner, the bond can be extended to that person. It requires an exchange of blood between the three—or the four if the partner is also bonded. And the exchange of blood…well, it is quite…” He cleared his throat as his cheeks flushed. “It can become very intimate. In a way that would most likely make you very uncomfortable.”

I just can’t see why she would make such a show of the Joining for no payoff in the next book.

“First off,” he said, struggling for breath, “I don’t think anyone is going to expect that.” From you seemed to hang unsaid between us.”

Not to mention the fact there is little secrets between them, when no one else was told about Poppy’s gift Kieran was. When no one (Malek aside) knew about Shea but Kieran, and now Poppy.

It is a recurring theme that the three of are very open with each others secrets.

And I can only imagine it growing in the next book.

This ^^^^ just make me believe more and more we are getting some major Kieran development and book time, going along with my theory him and Poppy will be going to be spending time together for some reason.

So in summary, I think there is little doubt in my mind that the Joining will happen and potentially even a ship born.

#fbaa #akofaf #tcogb #poppy balfour #casteel da'neer #kieran contou #cass x poppy x kieran #poppycasskieran #poppycaskieran #poppy x cass x kieran #from blood and ashes #a kingdom of flesh and fire #the crown of gilded bones #tcogb spoilers

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the-artistic-animal · 3 years

Text

Words Left Unsaid (part 2 / final)

Daryl x Reader

Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria/Sanctuary (set in seasons 7-8) Warnings: injury, blood, minimally implied sexual abuse, torture, death and a lot of fluffiness! Word count: 3391

Context: Daryl brings Y/N back to the Hilltop and hopes he will be able to say everything he has to say to her.

(If you haven’t read part 1, you can find it here)

The car was coming came to a stop, the people of Hilltop knew from the loud roar of the car’s engine that Jesus and Daryl were back. The curtain of dust it left behind made the everyone rush close to the vehicle, some curious and some preoccupied. Someone opened the back door where Daryl was, he didn’t take notice on who it was, focused on getting the girl to the infirmary. The crowd immediately opening a corridor for the archer to pass, his frenetic eyes looking straight ahead at Doctor Carson, who was standing at the doors of the improvised clinic trailer.

Like a hurricane Daryl entered the room, but his hands were gentle as he lowered the girl on the hospital-type bed. Dr. Carson and Enid took it as a sign to start acting, checking her pulse and looking for any major bruises or bleeding cuts. The archer told then little, as he didn’t know much of what happened to the girl, so he gave them space as they worked on her, never leaving the room. Enid unbuttoned Y/N’s flannel and Daryl’s stomach twisted at the sign of purple and yellow bruises, some shaped like hands hugged around her arms and pulse; but he didn’t allow himself to look away, taking it as punishment for not getting her out sooner.

Her legs matched the angry bruises of her chest, adding to some cuts and scratches on her knees, which she got from the fight she put up with the savior when they took her. Enid cleaned the dried blood, leaving the colored stains to go by themselves. Taking a clean shirt from the small drawer, they dressed her and pushed a thin blanket over her body; the archer analyzed everything, waiting for any sign that she was wake, but finding none.

“She gonna be alrigh’?” The archer’s voice was grave, deeper than usual, as the two finished working on Y/N. “She doesn’t seem to have any serious injuries, as far as we can see. She’s still out probably due to the trauma…” the Doctor’s words lingered in the air as he gave a final glance at her. Daryl felt a tight gulp go down his throat.

“Did they- was she… hum…” the archer didn’t dare to pronounce the remaining words, but the doctor cough on, the hypothesis having crossed his mind too. “I don’t know. All we can do is treat the outside; only her and God knows what kind of trauma she went through. All we can do now is wait.” The doctor patted Daryl’s shoulder before passing through the curtain, Enid was already gone.

Daryl moved to the side of the bed, sitting on the old chair resting there. He took her hand in his and rested his head on the thin mattress. The quietness was interrupted by Maggie and Sasha entering trailer, the metal door ranging loudly. “How is she?” Maggie’s voice was quiet, careful, but her eyes matched the apprehensive look of Sasha’s. Both the girls weren’t much familiar to Y/N but seeing how much she meant to Daryl was enough to make them sympathetic to her condition.

“Doc says we have ta wait. She’s all… bruised, I don’t…” The archer pressed his hands to his face, eyes closed, a tired sign escaping his lips. Maggie pressed her hand to his shoulder in a gesture of comfort, and Sasha offered to take his place for him to go eat something or just rest. Daryl was quick to reject the offer, even though his eyes showed how much he needed it.

After some more useless insisting, they both left, promising to bring lunch for him later. Throughout the day, Daryl watched people come and go through the infirmary trailer, some to see Y/N, some to see other people who were staying there too. The tight knot on his stomach didn’t undo itself for a single moment as he waited. When he got up to look out of the window, the dark of the night had already englobed the Hilltop, but still the girl showed no signs of waking up.

Daryl stayed by Y/N’s side through the whole night, at some moments the tiredness got the best of him, eyes closing for a couple of minutes, but never longer than that. The doctor came in at some point to check on a coughing patient at the bed behind the curtain that divided the room, taking some time to also check on Y/N. According to him, she was stable, but the words did nothing to calm Daryl down.

The next day washed away way too slowly for the likes of the archer, still no change on the girl’s condition, not even when he sprinted to the bathroom of the Barrington House to throw some water on his face, Enid taking his place for, as she said, ‘as long as he needed’. But he didn’t take more than five minutes to burst through the trailer doors, cursing at himself for even leaving. But still nothing had changed.

It was only the second night that Daryl felt some semblance of hope. His head rested on his hands, elbows on his knees and eyes moving from the girl’s eyes to her hands, and from hands to eyes, as if at any moment they would open, or her fingers would slightly move. That’s when he heard a low groan coming out from her throat, eyes not opened yet, but he noticed both of her hands closing in tight fists. The archer was immediately standing, a breath of excitement and fear was held as he waited. Until then, his mind was so caught on the fact that she was still unconscious, that he didn’t prepare for the moment when she would see him. Would he say he was sorry? Would he have the guts to ask her what exactly happened? Would she even want to tell him? To see him at all?

But none of those questions mattered, because when Y/N’s eyes locked on his all he could identify was fear. She was afraid – not of him – of everything, but he couldn’t hide the hurt he felt when she moved away from him on the limited space of the bed like a cornered animal. He raised his hands to show how he meant no harm, and as a reflex her eyes closed – that’s when his heart broke. “Y/N… I- ya’re safe…” his voice was shaky and uncertain, much for his dislike, as the archer wanted to assure her of the safety of the place. Her eyes were wide now, mouth slightly open drawing shallow breaths through her lips. When the girl blinked a few times, eyes never leaving Daryl, she seemed to finally come to reality, and her voice came out so raspy as she spoke his name in a whisper.

And then she was flying to his arms, and like they were made for her, his arms opened to capture her fragile body into his chest. Daryl was glad no one entered the trailer during the time they stayed like that, clinging to each other like their lives depended on it. Perhaps it did. Only when he felt her tears soaking his shirt, he gently pulled away to look into her eyes. Seeing her so close to him, he could not contain his own tears from dropping as he whispered how sorry he was.

“M’sorry- shit, m’sorry I let this happen to ya… I didn’t know-I didn’t…” Daryl couldn’t stand to look at her anymore, his trembling lips spilled the words quietly as a round of tears fell from his eyes. But the archer didn’t realize that the girl didn’t know he was alive, as the last time she saw him the saviors were loading him bleeding up into their trunk.

“You are alive… I thought I’d lost you.” Her bloodshot eyes were soft, and she searched for scars and bruises adorning his face. The moment her hands found his cheeks Daryl was frozen, and gently she was lifting his chin up so their eyes could meet. Both of her hands involved his face now, her soft fingers contrasting with the roughness of his sparse beard, and at that moment the archer swore he never felt closer to heaven. Y/N swallowed her tears before continuing, “that guy-Dwight… he kept saying- he talked about you and… and you weren’t there, I thought you were… gone.” The last word came out as a mere whisper.

She didn’t want to ask how he got out – even though she wished to know –, instead she just accepted the fact that he was there, at that very moment of time, and the girl surrendered to the need to hold the archer close. As Daryl held her, check pressed to her hair, he kept saying how he didn’t know she was at the Sanctuary, but Y/N didn’t pay attention to that, her eyes tightly closed, letting her body and soul sink into the lingering felling and sent of the archer..

“Listen,” Daryl removed himself from her embrace to look at her face. “I have to tell ya. When we lost the prison…”. Y/N was confused and about to interrupt him when the archer continued. “Nah, just listen, if I don’t tell ya now, I may never do.” His expression was so serious she didn’t dare to interrupt him anymore. When he opened his mouth, the door cracked open, slow at first, but when Doctor Carson saw Y/N had woken up, he rushed to her. After that, the afternoon was filled with visits from absolutely every person of Hilltop, even Gregory, whom Daryl made sure to keep an eye on at all times, a concentrated frown resting on his handsome face, Y/N noticed. The archer didn’t leave her side during the visits, keeping his distance but making sure his presence was known, by the girl and everyone else, like he was guarding her.

As much as the girl appreciated the attention she was getting from the community, she couldn’t help the anxiety that creeped up every time she would take a glance at Daryl – and every time he was already looking at her, examining. When it seemed like everyone had already paid their visit to the infirmary trailer, the Dr. was back to check on his patient, and after checking through vital signs and asking the same questions she had already answered, her hesitant eyes were expecting the final verdict.

“So, can I go now?” Carson’s eyes went from hers to the archer and them back to hers, Daryl was leaning on the trailer wall, arms intimidatingly crossed in front of his chest, but his eyes held an expression far from that – he was worried. “It’s best if you stay one more night, so we can keep an eye on you.” A pout was set on her lips, Daryl noticed the subtle trait of stubbornness that he knew so well and couldn’t avoid the smirk on his lips.

“I know you are the Doctor, but I know for a fact that I’ll feel much better after spending the night out of this bed.” Her tone was firm and defiant, but warm and pleading all the same. “Daryl will stay with me… won’t you?”. It’s was almost imperceptible, but the archer noticed the insecurity on her final words and he was quick to come stand next to her. “’Course I will, but maybe ‘s best if ya listen to Doc, he knows best…”.

“No. Look, I just wanna take a shower and sleep on a real bed… please.” Her eyes flashed at Daryl first and them at the Doctor, who was busy analyzing a particular stitched cut on her arm. “Alright. But you keep an eye on her,” his words were directed to Daryl, who seemed to listen closely. “and you, I want to see you tomorrow morning. Don’t push yourself, you’re still recovering. Take these painkillers, you will need them.” As the doctor moved to reach the pills from the top cupboard, Y/N was already protesting, but Daryl was quicker, as he took the little recipient from the man’s hand and shoved it in his pocket, receiving a frown from the girl.

On their way out, Daryl watched her every step as if she was made of glass. The girl could only think of how glad she was everybody seemed to be inside their houses and trailers and the sky was dark above them, since she was only wearing a way too big shirt, underpans and a pair of flipflops someone left at the infirmary. Considering the dark bruises that covered a great amount of her thighs, she imagined she was quit the sight.

“Hum… I know I said you would stay with me, but you don’t have to. I-I can just go the Barrington House, I don’t wanna intrude.” As abruptly as she stopped walking, the words nervously came out of her mouth. “Nah, yer staying with me. Unless ya don’ want ta…”. Y/N noticed he was as nervous as she was as he spoke, so she just nodded, assuring him that that was what she wanted – more than anything, she wanted to know what he had to say, but she chose to leave that part out for the moment, as he led her to his trailer.

As they walked in, she took a deep inhale, his sent filling her lungs even though he barely stayed inside the room,, specially given the events that filled the past few days. After the first awkwardness, he offered her to take a shower, which she gladly accepted, walking up to the small bathroom with the clothes Maggie left for her earlier that day.

When Y/N walked out, Daryl was sat at the small couch, which had more holes in it that actual fabric. His expression was unreadable, hand resting over his mouth as a sign that he was deep in thought. “Sorry… I took a bit too long, right? The was so much dirt to scrub out.” A nervous laugh was followed, but Daryl barely smiled as he assured her it was fine just before walking to the bathroom himself.

Y/N didn’t take offense in his behavior, knowing already how the archer was when his mind was working millions per hour. She sat on the couch and waited for him, allowing herself to enjoy the feeling of tiredness sinking her body to the cushions. But when Daryl returned, she was alert again and he seemed so lost that she couldn’t help asking if he was okay.

“’M fine, I just… hum… Ya can sleep on the bed, I’ll take the couch…”. At that she frowned, even though she was exhausted, his words from earlier that day hadn’t stopped playing on her brain for a single moment. “Actually, I was hoping you could tell me what you were gonna say before… if you’re not too tired?”. His hand brushed on his neck in a nervous motion “Nah, but ya need rest and… Doc said–“.

“I’m not tired yet, and you said if you didn’t tell me then you wouldn’t tell me ever… so tell me, what is it?”. At that point he was practically shaking, and when she moved to leave enough room for him to sit beside her, his legs almost gave out as he walked up to her.

His eyes didn’t lock on her just yet, instead he looked at some of the bruises her shirt didn’t cover. “Did they hurt ya? Like… I mean, were ya… did they touch ya?”. As much as it killed him to ask, he could stop it, he wouldn’t rest until he knew. “What?” she was confused at first, but also disappointed that that was his question, but she answered anyway, taking in the blush that creeped up on his face, partly from the embarrassment, but mostly rage.

“No! Not like that, if that’s what you’re thinking. Negan has his policy, his torture is nowhere like that… you know what I’m talking about, you were there too. But no, these are mostly from when his men found me. At least I gave them a little bit of work…” Her tone was sad, Daryl noticed, but he couldn’t help the somewhat relived sign he let out.

“’M sorry I didn’t take ya out sooner-“. Again, he was interrupted, but he didn’t mind it because her hand was holding his now, and involuntarily he sucked in a breath. “You already apologized, and I already said it was not your fault. So maybe we could move past that…” The archer could only nod, as he took in the sight of their hands joined on his lap, his palm turning upwards with the final blast of courage he had to hold hers.

“What I wanted ta say… what I want- shit, ‘m not good at this.” Y/N was patient and now her thumb was softly stroking the back of his hand in such a calm way that he was able to continue. “When we lost the prison, I thought I had lost ya and I promised if I ever saw ya again I’d say it, but then there was Terminus, and we were starving and Beth… and I- I didn’t say it but ya were there with me.” He stopped to take a breath and Y/N searched for signs of where he was going with all that, but his eyes only met her face briefly before the archer continued.

“When Dwight shot me and after Gleen and Abraham…” Her hand held his tighter by the second as she tried to give him as much comfort as she could as he showed his bare heart to her. “I thought I was never gonna see ya again, but then I came back, and I waited for ya to come with Rick, but when he said ya weren’t in Alexandria… I lost it.” His eyes searched for hers now, delicate tears matching her own. When she reached out to wipe a single drop that fell from his eye, he found the last bit of strength he needed to keep his speech.

“When I found ya, on that cell, I thought… ya were just crumbled there, ya didn’t even look like ya-“ he exhaled heavily, like it physically hurt him to describe the vivid scene from his memory. “Tha’s why I have ta tell ya. Fuck…” the archer cursed under his breath and Y/N almost didn’t catch it, wasn’t from the dead silent around the place. Her hand still hadn’t let go of his as she waited for him, the blood pumping inside her ears was so loud she was afraid of not hearing what the archer had to say.

“I can’t lose ya.” His words were firm and steady, contrary to the trembling chill that run throughout his body. His mouth opened and closed slightly a few times, the girl noticed, and when his blue eyes, quite red from all the crying, flashed at hers, she couldn’t resist the urge to hold him, and she didn’t. Daryl was surprised at first, and she wondered if it was a mistake, until both of his arms finally wrapped around her torso in a desperate move. She felt him relax against her, a deep breath he seemed to be holding for way too long left his mouth and his eyes closed.

“I can’t lose you Daryl.” Her soft words was all it took for his eyes to shot open wide, but he didn’t let go just yet. “I love you.” The archer’s body stilled like a statue at that, his mind racing as he tried to decide if it was a trick – he could possibly be dead at that moment, he couldn’t tell. It felt like so much heaven over him.

His body and soul were pulled out of the trance abruptly, she was pulling away from him and he wanted to desperately hold on to her and the feeling she was giving him. But when Y/N looked at him, cheeks softly blushed, he was sure that being able to simply see her was a divine sight. She didn’t have time to apologize or assure him he didn’t have to say anything back because, before she even started, he let them out – all the words that were once left unsaid – “I love ya too.”.

Autor’s note: HOLY CRAP!! Back by popular demand, part two is finally out! I’m sorry it took so long, but consider that it has a lot more words too hahaha

I really hope you enjoyed this and it’s as good as you expected! I really put effort into this so please tell me what you think! I read every single comment and appreciate them so much. It gives me all the motivation I need to write more for you guys!

As always, thank you so much for reading and don’t forget to comment, like and reblog if you liked it!

I’ll be opening a tag list, if you wanna be tagged on my next writings let me know!

Take a look at my MASTERLIST for more!

#daryl #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x reader #daryl fanfiction #the walking dead #the walking dead daryl #the walking dead fanfiction

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peach-coke · 3 years

Note

PEACHY!! I just finished the final. How u doing? What do you think?

Hey Sol! Sorry for leaving you hanging with an answer for a couple days but I had to process. And mourn, after all I said goodbye to something that has been part of me for 15 years. That's half my life. It's weird and I don't think I've ever cried as much as I have in the past 3 days but... Well. Luckily, they're happy tears. "Don't cry because it's over, cry because it happened" aside? I love the ending.

It's all I could've ever asked for. Ah, who am I kidding? It's more than that. I was prepared to be gutted in a really bad way. I am gutted but for all the right reasons. It was tragic. It was painful. It was beautiful. But most of all? It was a Love-Letter.

I know there’s a lot of people who’re upset about parts of the episode; I understand. We’re all grieving in our own ways. I hope however, that once the dust has settled and feelings stop spiking into extremes, people will realize that the episode left so many things unsaid and ambiguous... Meaning there's lots and lots of space for interpretation and headcanons to “fix” the finale into something that makes it better for you. And I’d like to think this was done on purpose.

I’m soo sorry I end up rambling on one of your asks again Sol, but I’ll do exactly that to pick up some of the things I’ve seen people be most upset about and give some of my perspective on them. Maybe it’ll help some people to feel better and grow to love the final as much as I do ♥

One thing I’ve seen a lot of people be upset about is that Dean didn’t get to live the life they’ve fought for so hard. Actually? We don’t know that. There is no timestamps, no indicators that tell us they didn’t do what we saw in the first domestic montage for a couple years. The only hint we have is that Miracle is still around and kicking, so it couldn’t have been more than maybe 6 years (because 6-8ish is when a dog that size shows clears signs of aging). Besides that? Nobody and nothing stops us in believing they had that “domestic bliss with a little bit of hunting on the side”-life for quite a while before it happened.

Them talking about mourning Cas and Jack is no indicator either. I still mourn people I lost 15 years ago, when the occasion calls for it or I remember them in moments that they would’ve loved to be part of. Mourning never stops… Of course, even 6 years aren’t a lifetime. But do we really think Dean - our Dean - would’ve been happy and content with a 9-to-5 job? Yeah, didn’t think so either...

Then, we have the rebar. Which honestly didn’t bother me at all, for several reasons. First, I love parallels and this episode was so full of them… Not only was the whole “stabbed in the back” thing a direct callback to arguably the most painful death in the series to date – Sam’s first in All Hell Breaks Loose – it was also a callback to The Song Remains the Same. The episode where Sam is stabbed by Anna – with a rebar/fixture she ripped out of the wall - and bleeds out on the floor. The only reason he got out of it alive, is because John!Michael fixed him. Otherwise? He would’ve died by being stabbed with a rebar. Just like that.

Ash himself told them that they died several times together and can’t remember because the angels don’t want them to. We, the viewers, have never seen them die together until Dark Side Of The Moon. Which strongly implies that they must’ve died on random hunts. More than once.

So Dean’s death in the barn? That’s what happens to Hunters who have no divine intervention. That’s what happens to Hunters who are living the life without being chosen for something bigger. That’s what happens to Hunters with free will. Dean’s death in the barn was a true Hunter’s death. The one he always wanted. There’s no glory, there’s nothing special about it. It just is. And I thought that was tragically poetic in its own way.

I know people were expecting them to go out Butch and Sundance style. Together – I admittedly wanted that too. But the way Dean’s death happened didn’t bother me at all. And honestly? Sam’s soul died in that barn, too. We know it did. So they did go out together, one way or another. It was just not the way we expected.

The cinematic parallels of Sam’s life without Dean to Dean’s life without Sam after Swan Song honestly floored me. It was beautifully heartbreaking.

We see Sam living his life while Dean is driving along “right there beside him, every step of the way”. We see him holding on for Dean, fulfilling the promise he made to his brother about living on. Making sure there’s always a Winchester that knows love left in the world. The final sacrifice of Sam, the bravest and strongest man we know. Sam, who sits down in the car he once called home, to be close to the one person that always held the same connotation. Sam, who knows his other half is waiting for him, sitting just there in the same spot he is. Every step of the way. That’s my Supernatural right there.

What I especially like about the whole thing is, that it once again leaves us with another take besides the one we actually saw and thought obvious. We can also pretend Sam died on that werewolf hunt, shortly after Dean’s death. There is nothing that stops you from seeing this as canon, (There’s actually quite a few hints that it’s a very strong possibility), because the way the whole scene played out could’ve easily been a daydream of Dean while he was driving in heaven.

The fact they left it open like that is a gift, in my eyes. They could’ve easily forced a fixed narrative on us. But they didn’t. Same with so many other things. They left us with so many possibilities and room for our own takes. And I think it’s fair that people need time to process what we’ve been given here. It’s fair that people are still upset about some aspects, because they have yet to realize that there is a pathway for them to see it differently, without discarding canon at all.

There’s only one thing that is not open for interpretation. And that’s that Sam and Dean love each other as much as two human beings can love each other. And none of them is complete without the other. I never quite understood why some people needed the show to end on romantic notes. Supernatural has never been about that. It has always been about the deep, abiding love those two brothers had for each other and how neither heaven nor hell ever stood a chance against it. Platonic love is just as beautiful as romantic love; sometimes even more so. And that’s what this finale showed us.

And that’s why I love it so much. Why I say it’s a Love-Letter. It’s a Love-Letter to us; The ones who’ve been there all the way from the start. The ones who’ve seen the show for what it is and what it has always been: The epic love story of Sam and Dean Winchester.

Despite all that, it is still valid to dislike the ending. You are entitled to do so. But if you really think Sam and Dean - two soulmates, surrounded by the people they love, at peace - spending the rest of eternity together in heaven is the absolute worst possible ending that destroyed everything the show ever stood for? I’m sorry, but in that case you did not understand Supernatural at all.

#Asks and Requests #Sent in by solisoccasus #SPN Spoilers #SPN Finale Positive #Sam and Dean are Soulmates #and y'all can take that from my cold dead hands

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archetypal-archivist · 3 years

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Tommyinnit and Hermitcraft- Heartstone P.2

So, a little while back I wrote piece titled Tommyinnit and Hermitcraft- Heartstone (linked here) which was inspired by the works of @petrichormeraki and @redorich, who popularized the AU of Tommyinnit from the Dream SMP getting dropped into Hermitcraft somehow and summarily getting adopted by the entire server. I, in my infinite wisdom, decided “yes, but also angst” and spat out a solid 1500+ words with a cliffhanger at the end because it was getting ridiculous and I had yet more to write. This is another 1500+ words of continuation.

-----

It's not easy, knowing things. Joe knows more things than most, and oh, how it eats at him sometimes. He jokes with Cleo that between the two of them and their dogs, they are perhaps the leading experts on being chewed on, but she never laughs at that joke. He can't help but wonder why, his thoughts drifting as he lies still and silent in her arms, curled up together on his bed in the winery. Her orange hair tickles his nose as he moves to bury his face in her shoulder a bit more, her cool breath ghosting over the sticky tear tracks that still line his cheeks. All the things that remain unsaid lie between them, but their silent agreement binds them together tighter still. And indeed silence is the name of the game, however much he wishes it wasn't necessary- everything will work out in due time, he knows. But oh, how it aches that he can't say anything more on the matter, not even to her.

"Cleo?" The zombie woman makes a soft inquiring noise, politely ignoring how his voice cracks on the syllables. "Are we doing the right thing?" Her grip tightens again, almost crushingly so, and Joe goes limp at the implied rebuke. Be it right or wrong, his silence must be ensured- he knows so much that if he said anything, it'd all come pouring out. A real modern-day Cassandra, verbal fountain and harbinger of doom in one. No, best to stay cryptic when he can and silent when he can't- and if even his silence fails, Cleo is there, sword in hand, ready to keep him quiet.

He should not take comfort from that. But here, wrapped up in his best friend's embrace, utterly at her mercy and all the safer for it... He does anyway.

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Joe and Cleo aren't in a romantic relationship, but it would not be amiss to call them platonic life partners in this universe. Joe has been seeing things for as long as he can remember, the exact mechanics are strange and baffling at best, and if he tries to actually do any Science to figure out how this stuff works, the magic changes to spite him. It's led to a lot of unfortunate visions of peanut butter and how the server generally tends to misuse the stuff (Etho sometimes using it instead of slime in a sticky piston is a milder example), so after enough peanut visions to make him allergic on principle, Joe tends to just let the visions come as they may. The only hard-coded bit that comes with them is that anyone living who hears his prophecies won't believe them and will have something bad happen to them as a result. Cleo, being a zombie, is a special exception to the rule. She's only alive in the most technical of senses, so while bad things still happen to her if she hears Joe speak about his experiences, she at least will believe him.

Which is why she is so determined to not know more about whatever is going on with Tommy. When Joe had rushed in a month ago, tears streaming down his cheeks and glasses barely hanging onto his face, she had merely put down the book she had been reading and had opened her arms wide to him. Convincing him that she would not betray his trust or break his heart had been hard, but she had known it was worth it. How can it be anything but, when Joe had looked at her then as if she was the most precious being on the planet and had immediately thrown himself into her arms, bursting out into troubled tears? He offered to tell her the full story, eyes wet and longing, and her long-dead heart ached at the trust he is giving her- but she is far too selfish to give that up. So she had turned him down, smile on her lips.

Even when he whispered, voice hoarse, that they wouldn't be seeing Tommy for a while. Even when he shuddered and shook in her arms, fragile as glass in her grip. Even when he begged her to ask, just ask, please, it's too much... She did not ask. If she asked, he would tell her, and then she would be hurt and his heart would break because it would be his words that had hurt her. She would not, cannot, will never inflict that upon him, or let him inflict that upon anyone else. (Of all the heads in her collection, the one she has most of is Joe's.)

She simply asks him if there will be a satisfying ending, and when he says yes, she asks no more. Everything will be okay, in the end. So long as there is that much, so long as she has Joe in her arms and the comfortable silence stretches out between them, then she will be content.

(At the foot of their bed, deep in Joe's winery where the barking is muffled and the light cannot touch them, there lies a chest of heads. Inside it, nestled among the many faces of the dead, rests an old iron sword bearing the name Hush. It's blade is rusty from disuse, but if Cleo ever decides that she isn't satisfied, well. There are ways of dealing with that.)

(Things will be okay. She'll make sure of it.)

-----

Philza was no stranger to death. A veteran of a hardcore world, where even the very earth was out to kill him, he had seen his fair share of deaths and had dealt out even more. Usually just to the local mobs and wildlife, but there was still the occasional player dropped into his world by the cruel hands of the Void as a sort of "apology" for leaving him alone, bereft of his sons. As if some random strangers could ever fill the Void in his heart.

Most of them had wandered off upon seeing him, more interested in escape than any companionship he could offer them, and he'd inevitably see their death messages in the otherwise silent chat a few days later. Others would approach him, some curious, some desperate for kindness- he gave them none, was often intentionally cruel just to drive them away. He had the Void in his heart and the Void had him, and he ached and ached for what he could not have. Anything less would be a pale imitation, a mockery of the love he was desperate to return to. He tried not to think about how those kind strangers would also come to meet their ends, often more messily than those that had decided to leave him be to begin with.

Then there were the rare few with... less than gentle intentions. (Blood for the Blood gods, no matter the universe.)

Theirs were the deaths he regretted the least, but the blood still gave him nightmares. For all that he loved his sons, he never understood their love for glory, be it found in conquering other nations or the sticky ooze of a dying foe. Maybe that's why he had spent so much of his time with his elder sons when he returned, the Void finally releasing him from his hardcore prison. Just a father's attempt at understanding, even if it left his youngest at loose ends.

But the problem with loose ends, he had come to find, is that the world had a way of setting them to rights- either by tying them back into the grand narrative, or by cutting them out entirely. For months after Dream had come to him, apology on his lips and charred shoe in hand, he had believed that Tommy's fate had been the latter. He had mourned his son as if such was the case, weeping openly at the news for the first time in years. (He wasn't the only one, though- Technoblade was an only child now and he was not taking it well.) It was only when Tubbo came to him with his compass to ask about its ever-spinning needle that he felt a spark of hope, for a compass that spun was not a compass linked to a dead soul- simply a lost one. Such hope was justified when, six months later, Technoblade burst into his house with a snarl on his lips and a smile in his eyes. Tommy had returned.

And as Phil stood, back straightening and wings spread wide, hope bloomed in his chest like hanahaki, choking him with love right down to his core. Tommy had returned, despite everything.

And Philza would not let him go again.

-----

For all that Tommy might have been... gone for at least a month now on the Hermitcraft server and life has significantly slowed down for all involved, by no means has it stopped entirely. The shops are still stocked, the torches are replaced when the old ones burn out, Hermits still go out and see each other, if less often than before. Xisuma, in fact, instates a series of mandatory meetings every week or so as a way of making sure that everyone is still alive- a bit of reassurance that no one else has died in the time interim. Even the hermits who prefer to keep to themselves show up, such as Tinfoilchef, Joe, and Cleo, although the latter two remain distinctly separate from everyone else on the server during the meetings, their refusal to take a side alienating them from the rest. Grian, broken though he may be, also comes, usually in the arms of Iskall or with a vacant smile on his face depending on the state of his mental health on the given day. His presence is also alienating, as most of the hermits don't quite know what to say around him and thus will give him and Iskall a bubble of space to themselves during the meetings. Mumbo is the only one to cross the divide, standing loomingly tall at Iskall's back, as if daring anyone to say something potentially hurtful to either of his friends.

Frankly, the entire concept of weekly meetings is a bit of a mess. Xisuma stands at the front with Keralis at his back, voice and posture more and more tired with every meeting and Keralis standing just a bit closer, a silent show of support (ready if his admin ever needs some physical support too). The prognosis is usually a mix of dull stuff and hopeless stuff- lag is better than it has been in years, the Chestmonster shop is out again, Tommy still has not been... found. It's not exciting exactly, but the tension during the reporting stage is palpable as everyone waits to hear if something else has gone wrong. It's a bit like being on the front lines- horrible, drawn-out minutes of tedium as everyone holds their breath, waiting to see if another bombshell will drop but knowing that they have to be there, because some warning is infinitely better than seeing a death message in chat one day and not knowing if that person will ever make it back.

In addition to this is the tension that comes from the server being split in three- the believers, the mourners, and those too damaged or too caught up in their own narratives or too neutral to swing to one side or the other.

The meetings are where the most near-fights happen, and Xisuma is so, so tired of having to be the sane one these days. (The benefit of a helmet, he's come to find, is that no one can see you cry.)

(He doesn't take it off much anymore.)

-----

It's after one such meeting that Zedaph finds himself cooped up in his base, eyes burning with unshed tears and feet dangling out into the Void as he sits at the bottom of the hole in his base, the one that goes straight to bedrock and then even further still. The chill is a welcome distraction from his own inner turmoil, and for all that it's dangerous to be sitting so near to the edge of the world, he can't find it in himself to move away form its cold comfort. After all, Tommy can't have died permanently, right? So sitting there is perfectly safe. He has to believe that. He has to.

The meetings are tough on everyone, but sometimes Zedaph wonders if they are a bit worse for him than they are for the rest. It can't be normal that the first thing he does after every meeting is burst into panicked tears as soon as he gets back to his base, as he's certainly never felt such deep fear and relief after the meetings they had before the Incident. And yet, as soon as the iron door of his base sncks shut behind him, he drops down into the Void hole, sits at the edge, and bawls his eyes out. It's kinda funny- he's shed more tears in the last month than he has in his entire life so far. And all for a boy he had known for less than a year.

During this particular day, however, something odd happens. When he sits down for a good cry, it feels like there's the slightest of breezes coming off the Void beneath his feet, chilling him right down to his bones. It's cold, yes, but a welcome relief as he feels a bit like he's burning up from the inside out. Every moment he spends with Tango and Impulse is stifling, as with them he has to shove himself into a hateful mold he never wanted for himself. He doesn't like being angry, and being angry alongside his best friends is hardly any better. If he had it his way, he would have curled up in bed and simply slept the horror away, only waking when the nightmare was over and he could go play mini golf and Among Us with Tango, Impulse, and Tommy again. Instead, his love for his friends demands that he supports them in all their endeavors, even if their goals these days seem to run a little closer to "get them all killed" than is comfortable.

But yes. The breeze. It feels like ice on his skin and sends every nerve in his legs buzzing. It has a distinct smell to it too, like TV static, ozone, and that sensation you get after you brush your teeth and go take a big gulp of cold water. It's... odd. But vaguely comforting. And as the tears finally well up in his eyes and drip down his cheeks, as he lets himself sob for all the friends- both new and old- he's lost, he finds that it's exactly what he needs.

And if Zedaph would only listen a little closer, let himself see beyond his broken heart, perhaps he would hear the whisper on the wind, too.

Everything will be okay. I'll make sure of it.

-----

Evil X has his own troubles to deal with. He had been present when Tommy had died, if watching from the wrong side of their dimension. Lost in the Void with nothing better to do, he had often found himself watching his friend go about his day. With space and time being as screwy as they were in the Void, he could find himself taking three steps and then would be watching Tommy go from sleeping over at BDub's base to having "breakfast" with Rendog. So when Grian and Tommy had gone out End-busting that fateful day, of course he had been watching. And that was all he could do- watch- as he saw his best friend fall to his apparent death, that little line of code that signaled "perma-death" flashing once, twice, and then glowing a deep, ominous red.

But that wasn't the end of it, even as his dull and bruised heart stuttered in his chest at the sight.

Like a redstone pulse lighting up everything around it, that red glow set off a cascading chain reaction that rippled up and down Tommy's code until it eventually trailed out to wherever his code stretched out into the Void. There, it must have severed something because before he could even call for help, his friend's code yanked inwards and away, slingshotting the whole mess into the distant darkness beyond, leaving naught but a vague impression on the inside of his eyelids behind. It was... awful. One of the scariest things he had ever seen, perhaps second only to watching his brother, stern-faced and cold, send him off to the Void once again. But for all that it hurt to see that red glow and watch in mute horror as the server he had once tried to destroy shake itself apart at the seams, there was still hope.

The code was gone, yes, but not unraveled, not destroyed. Merely... transported. Moved. Like a file being sent from one computer to another, or a player teleporting between servers. Tommy's code vanishing like that was cause for alarm, yes, but somewhere out there in the vastness of the Void, it lingered still- and it had left a faint impression of itself in its wake. That meant there was hope.

Evil X- and by proxy, his twin Xisuma- were voidwalkers, beings specifically designed to see, understand, and even modify the world's code. Were he anything else, he surely would have perished by now, his consciousness scattered across the Void as it was. And having been in exile for so long, he had gotten to be adept at seeing the seams between worlds and reading the truths of existence as the Void had intended for her children. If anyone could follow that faint trail, could get Tommy back, it would be him.

For the first time in a long time, Evil X had hope. And hope is a vicious motivator indeed.

-----

TBC :)

#fanfiction #my writing #minecraft #dream smp #hermitcraft #hermit tommy au #heartstone #i'm pretty pleased with this

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gojoslutoru · 3 years

Text

I can't even part 1

Gojo x fem!reader

Description: In hopes of forgetting about your boyfriend for a night you travel to a bar in the city where you meet a tall and very annoying man.

Warnings: alcohol, implied cheating, sexually suggestive

Wc: 1213

Song pairing: #icanteven (slowed)

The clock strikes 10pm as you ignore the flooding of messages from your boyfriend, he did nothing wrong, he just wasn't enough. Your relationship wasn't long, or boring for that matter. He just simply couldn't give you the adrenaline you needed. That's why you're sitting on a barstool at a random bar in the city, your silk dress draping over your form, your hair loosely tied up with some waved strands hanging down at the front.

"special occasion?" asks the bartender, pointing to your attire while giving you a friendly smile.

"just a regular Friday" you shoot back a smile at him before ordering a whiskey, he hands you your drink quickly and you mutter a quick thank you at him before taking a big swig, the coldness of the ice contrasting nicely with the burn of the whiskey.

"so what's a pretty girl like you doing out on 'just a regular Friday'?" the voice is soft but firm and came from the man sitting next to you, you take a quick look at him, he has white hair which slightly hangs over his dark sunglasses. His attire probably leaving little left unsaid about his personality: bland.

"I could ask you the same question" you reply, looking forward at the wall of liquor while taking another swig of your drink before setting it back on the square napkin.

"it's rude to answer a question with a question sugar" the sudden nickname makes you physically cringe, keeping your gaze fixed forward you ask the bartender for another whiskey, which he quickly prepares for you as you continue to ignore the tall lanky man next to you.

"it's on me" he tells the bartender as he tells you the price.

"are you seriously this oblivious?" you shoot at him in reply to his sudden forwardness.

"not oblivious, just thought I’d treat you since you seem to not be having a good time" you're surprised by his friendliness, but nonetheless you carry on the conversation if he's already trying this hard to get your attention.

"so what are you drinking?" you ask him to try and engage in the conversation.

"strawberry daiquiri" you look at him quizzically.

"you didn't strike me as a man with a sweet tooth"

"and you didn't strike me as a woman who'd be sour" your eyes go wide, dumbfounded at the sudden insult.

"don't get me wrong, sour is just not my type, would you like to try my drink instead?" it takes you a while to process the sentence he said, opting to just nod your head instead and smile sweetly expecting him to slide his drink over to you, or better yet buy you your own.

Instead the man took a mouthful of his drink before grabbing your jaw with his thumb and index finger, slowly pulling you forward towards him making you reach your hand out against his chest to steady yourself as he places his lips on yours and slightly parting them to let his cocktail slide into your mouth. The taste was sweet to say the least and you swore you could feel the granules of sugar as they entered your mouth. The man however did not pull away from you, further attacking your lips as you took a sharp inhale, even his scent was sweet, the faint hint of plum and strawberries lingering in your lungs and it rushed straight to your head.

His lips are soft, which is a nice contrast to his actions as he starts to enter your mouth with his tongue, pulling your head closer with his hand. He grazes your teeth before softly massaging against your tongue while letting out a sigh as your hands that were on his chest start slowly sliding up against his shirt, softly touching his collarbones as they make their way back to find their place around his neck. He shivers, which doesn't go unnoticed by you as you slide one of your hands further up his neck slightly grabbing the tufts of white hair to pull him closer. He groans into your mouth, the sound vibrating through you as you shiver against him. He pulls back slowly while taking in a deep breath, his glasses slowly sliding down to the tip of his nose exposing a pair of blue eyes that match the intensity of his immaculate white hair.

"as much as I like the ambience of this bar, I’d rather be in my car right now alone with you" he looks into your eyes as you cascade your arms down, your fingers twirling around his at your jaw before softly grabbing his two fingers and pulling them down never breaking contact as you slide out of your stool.

"I think we should leave then" you whisper to him as he begins to get out of his seat, beginning to tower over you his height taking you by surprise.

You make your way out of the bar, hand in hand as you lead him towards the door. He pushes the door open over you to let you out, the scent of fresh air immediately hitting you with the warmth of the summer night, the rain still pattering on the concrete.

"stay here I’ll get my car"

"it's okay, I like the rain" you reply as you drag him further out from the shelter of the entrance to the bar.

"lead the way then pretty boy" you let out a giggle as you feel the rain hitting your skin, a nice cold shower as opposed to the sudden heatwave. His movements are sudden as you find yourself now up against his chest once again, one of his hands on the back of your head as his fingers lace with your own, your other hand limp by your side.

"say that again"

"pretty boy" you look up at him, his hair now slightly damp as the street lights luminate it. He drags his hand down your cheek as he tilts your head up to kiss you once again, the faint taste of strawberries still lingering on his lips. He brings your hand that's intertwined with his to his shoulder, dropping it there before sliding his hand back down against your waist. A moan leaving your mouth into his as he pulls you flush against him by your waist.

"seems like you have quite the problem there..." you trail off against his lips, not remembering if you've gotten his name or not.

"Satoru"

"what a pretty name for a pretty boy" you look up at him again, breaking the kiss. His pupils blown wide as he smiles, his teeth as pure as his hair.

"that's it" he says before dropping both of his hands to your waist signalling you to jump, you cross your legs around his waist as his hands find their grip at your thighs. Your hands finding comfort on his shoulders as he begins to carry you, your mouth leaving small kisses along his neck and jaw.

"as I was saying earlier, you seem to have quite the problem there Satoru" you whisper into his ear, not letting the feeling of his erection twitch slip past your attention.

"I wouldn't consider it such an issue with the way you’re draped around me right now".

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #gojo saturo x reader #gojo imagine #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo fluff

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nightshade-minho · 3 years

Text

-Blue Book- (11)

Warnings: anger, stress, y/n briefly wants to murder felix, a lot of negative emotions, headaches, light suggestiveness, britney spears cameo (nah just kidding- or am i)

Wc: 4.1k (finally a blue book part that’s longer than 2k)

Stop. Stop thinking about her. Stop thinking about how she’s probably out with Minho right now, having fun and laughing over inside jokes.

Sometimes he wished he could just dig into his brain and remove all traces of you. He simply couldn't think of another way to truly get rid of you, eradicate every remnant that stayed in his brain, reminding him how he’d felt back then.

Years had passed, and he still wasn't over it. There was a tiny part of him that thought maybe seeing you again would calm him down, and remind him that it wasn't a big deal. You'd changed, and he had too. It was time to get over petty high school grievances.

And yet, when he saw you with Minho again...he realized it simply wasn't possible. You were going to plague him for the rest of your life, and he knew it.

"I know pancakes are a weird choice for dinner but- Are you listening to me? Earth to Chan-"

Chan snapped back to reality, blinking as he stared at Felix, who pushed a plate of pancakes towards him, a concerned look on his face.

"I was asking you where you're staying at right now."

"Oh." Chan nodded thankfully, taking the fork and digging in. He was terribly hungry, and he'd missed Felix's cooking. His pancakes were always so soft and fluffy...a lot like him, to be honest.

To be honest, he didn't quite know yet. He hadn't left his parents on good terms, and now he found himself penniless unless he made up with them. Not one to beg, he'd decided to look around for a job. So far, he wasn’t all that successful. There was a heavy weight on his heart preventing him from truly committing to his work. He found it impossible to focus.

Felix sighed, taking a seat opposite him. " Chan...do you not have a place to stay?"

He shook his head finally, his gaze on the plate as he ate. He'd already told Felix the situation with his parents, somewhat. If his perception of Felix was right, he would be overcome with sympathy.

He was right. Felix wrung his fingers, his thoughts racing. He hated seeing the distraught expression on Chan's face. The words were on the tip of his tongue- the only thing stopping him was the thought of how you'd react.

You'd be pissed, beyond doubt.

Felix swallowed. Then again, this was his apartment. You didn't really have the right to oppose him if he wanted to let someone else stay for a bit. Besides, maybe he'd be able to talk some sense into you?

How bad could it be?

"Chan..." He began, inhaling.

"Do you want to stay here? At least until you find a place."

Chan sighed. There it was. He wasn’t surprised to find out he’d predicted correctly. Felix had been his best friend, after all. He knew him like the back of his hand. "Are you sure you...and your roommate...would be fine with it?"

"I'm positive." He lied, scratching the back of his neck as Chan groaned.

He didn't really have another choice. Psyching himself up to agree, Chan sucked in a breath and pushed away his intruding emotions.

"Sure."

***

You knocked on the door, inhaling deeply as you ran through all the different ways you were going to murder Felix in your head. You couldn’t believe it. He really had the audacity to not only invite him over, but also neglect to inform you the same.

Tapping your foot, you rubbed your forehead as the door remained closed. Sighing, you dug into your bag for your keys, procuring them after a few seconds of searching through the crumpled chewing gum packets and loose coins. You really had to clear out your bag sometime.

You entered your apartment, yawning as you shed your coat, heading to the kitchen for a drink. Your throat was dry, your head pounding with stress. Ugh, what a bad day it had been. Marginally better due to the time you’d spent with Minho- but still bad. Chan’s sudden appearance really had put a damper on everything you’d done since then.

As you reached the kitchen, you stopped in your tracks.

Fuck. You turned around immediately when you saw who was sat at the table, an empty plate in front of him as he scrolled through his phone. He hadn’t seen you standing in the doorway. Yet.

Carefully, you started padding away as quietly as possible. Unfortunately, the gods really weren’t in the mood to smile upon you today.

“Y/n?”

His voice was tired, bare of any emotion whatsoever. You twisted your neck to look at him, opening your mouth and closing it. He was staring at you, his eyes devoid of feeling, his lips pressed in a thin line. You had no clue what to say. Looking at his face again brought back memories you’d much rather forget.

“It’s...nice to see you again.” He mumbled, tearing his gaze away from you.

‘Nice’ was really not the word.

“Yeah. How have you been?” You managed to ask, swallowing the lump in your throat. He drummed his fingers on the table top as his mind searched for an appropriate response. You watched him, your heart clenching as you remembered the way his hand felt in yours.

“Fine.” He finally decided to say. “I’ve been fine, more or less.” After all, he was used to lying.

“And you? Having fun with Minho?” There was a slight bite to his voice as he uttered the words, making you raise an eyebrow. Suddenly, the anger you harbored towards him was reignited. What was he implying? It shocked you that he could talk like that, without a trace of apology in his tone. As if it was you who’d betrayed him, and not the other way around.

“For your information, yes. We’re having a lot of fun.” You snapped, turning and leaving the kitchen to go straight to your room. Just read a book, listen to some music and calm yourself down. He’ll be gone soon.

Chan watched you walk away, his hands balling into fists. So you had absolutely no remorse, whatsoever.

He bit his lip, hating the weird amalgamation of emotions that were gripping him like a vice. He’d felt envy flood him as you said it, rubbing it in his face. Shaking his head, he turned back to his phone, biting his lip.

***

You knocked on Felix's door, biting your lip in anger as you waited for him to open it. Tapping your foot, you shook your head. Why was he still here, even? He should be gone by now.

"Looking for Felix?"

You started, turning around with a glare on your face.

Shit. He was way too close to you, his face inches away from yours. All you'd have to do is lean in just the tiniest bit, and your lips would be on his...

"He went out. Errands. Won't be back till tonight."

You groaned, taking a step back as you rolled your eyes. "Okay, whatever."

Chan watched you, an amused smile making its way onto his face. He'd flustered you a little, that much was evident. He wasn't quite sure yet if that was something to be proud of...but it was the little victories that counted, right? A part of him was glad that he still managed to have some sort of effect on you, even after all these years.

"You know if it's important, you can always tell me. Is there anything I can get you?"

You scoffed, shaking your head as you backed up further, your hand on the doorknob. "This is my home." you reminded him, his incredulous sentence rubbing you the wrong way.

Chan almost felt bad for you.

Shrugging, he turned to walk away. "Not anymore."

"Huh?" His words took a while to sink into your brain, and you raised your eyebrow in confusion. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Y/n...is that any way to talk to your new roommate?"

No. No way. Felix wouldn't...

"What?!"

"Not forever." He shrugged, his hand running through his hair. "Just until I find a permanent place to stay. Until then though, I'll be here."

This couldn't be happening. The anger was increasing slowly, rage directed to your roommate as well as the man in front of you.

Chan looked back at you, sighing as he noted the upset expression growing on your face. Did you really hate him that much?

"Look. I'll stay out of your hair." He muttered, his tone clipped. "I don't think it will be that difficult for us to co-exist if we manage to be civil to each other."

You pressed your lips together in a thin line. "Sure. I don't care." You had already planned on remaining in your room for the entirety of his stay, however impractical that would be. You weren’t ready to dig up all that trauma from your teenhood just yet.

Chan gritted his teeth, his eyes searching yours as he thought of what else to say. The atmosphere was tense- too many things left unsaid, half spoken promises lingering in the air between you. It was frustrating, yet Chan held himself back. He was an adult now. There was no space for immaturity or trivial grudges in his life currently- no, he had to stay strong. With his credentials, it would be fairly easy to land a job. He just had to speed the process up, and soon enough he’d be out of this apartment.

So he took a deep breath and gave you a smile, turning around to go back to the kitchen. He prided himself in his decision, a small first step to eliminating his inability to let go.

You watched as he left, chewing on your lip. Your heart hammered against your ribcage as you turned to go back into your room, grabbing your phone and dialing Felix’s number aggressively.

“Where the fuck are you?”

“Um, I left to grab some groceries-”

“Did you really offer to let him stay at our place?” You asked, your tone calm as you gripped the bed sheets.

“W-well...yeah..” You heard him gulp on the line. “It’s just for a few days, Y/n, till he gets a job-”

“And do you know how long that’s going to take?” You hissed, rubbing your temple as you heard his footsteps in the kitchen.

“I...look, Y/n. You have every right to be angry. I’m sorry, I should have checked with you first before making a decision.”

“No shit.”

A sigh. “Look, I won’t be home till evening. Please um...keep it mature. Again, I’m sorry.”

You shook your head, cutting the call and throwing your phone onto the mattress. It was going to be fine, as long as you stayed away. The apartment was small, so you couldn’t avoid running into him, though...whatever. It’d be fine, you’d be able to hold yourself out for a few days, if Felix was to be believed. You rubbed your forehead, groaning.

You were in dire need of a nap.

Sighing, you fell back onto the cushy pillows, curling up on the mattress. Your head was throbbing with the beginnings of a headache. You needed a glass of water, but you weren’t going to leave your room today, at least until Felix comes back.

You hated the way your heart was still pounding, your emotions a jumbled mess. It was natural, right? To be this affected? He was your first love, after all. And he’d betrayed you.

At first, you didn’t want to believe it. There was a part of you that hoped a tiny part of Chan had actually loved you, a part that hoped Minho was lying. But then you’d asked Felix about the ‘bet’, and the guilty look on his face told you everything you needed to know.

Of course it had been suspicious, the popular guy coming up to talk to you- a lonely new kid who barely anyone talked to, especially when half his friend group were cold to you. But the more time you spent with him, the more you had begun to feel like he truly did love you. Was it even possible to fake emotions as well as he had? Chan was a good actor.

After you left, Chan never acknowledged the message you’d sent him. Not at all. You’d poured your heart out, for nothing. It had been the final nail in the coffin, the final incident convincing you that he’d never truly loved you back.

You sighed and sat up to switch the lights off, flooding the room in darkness as you buried your face in the pillow. There was complete silence in the room for a few minutes, and you let out a peaceful hum, snuggling further into the blanket. Sleep was beginning to overtake you slowly, your eyes closing as you slipped further into dreamland. You slept for about an hour, untroubled.

That is, until there was a loud crash from beyond the door, forcing you to shoot up and rub your eyes, anger coursing through you. You threw the blankets off your figure, storming up to your door and flinging it open. Ugh, fuck this. Fuck staying in your room and not causing trouble. You needed an outlet for this pent up anger, or you were going to fucking lose it.

“What the fuck was that?” You called out loudly, only to be returned with complete silence. Standing in the middle of the empty living room, you furrowed your brows in confusion.

The bathroom door opened just as you were ready to turn around and head back into your room. Swiveling around, you glared at Chan as he stepped out, a rather innocent look on his face. Innocent...nothing like the fact that he was fresh out of the shower, naked except for a towel wrapped around his waist.

For a minute, you were rendered dumb. Your eyes watched as his dripping wet hair trailed droplets of water down his torso, down the ridges of his abs and disappearing into the towel. You didn’t even know he looked like that underneath those clothes...

“Hey. Sorry for the noise.” Chan mumbled, pushing his hair back as he closed the door behind him. “The shower caddy fell down randomly. Don’t worry, I fixed it.”

His blank expression slowly transformed into something more devious as he shut the door. He smirked as he observed your expression, his ego boosting as he realized he was the reason you were speechless.

“I- well-” You grunted and shook your head. “You fucked up my nap. Thanks a fucking lot.” You grumbled, crossing your arms as you kept your gaze fixed on his face. “Now if there’s nothing else, I’ll be leaving.” You coughed, voice slightly shaky as you desperately tried to conceal your burning cheeks,

“And...put some clothes on.” You grumbled before heading back. Before you could, though, you felt a hand wrapping around your wrist, pulling you back towards him.

Stopping yourself before you could stumble too close to him, you looked up at him angrily, yanking your wrist away. “What?” You hissed.

“You don’t look too well.” He said, lifting his hand to your forehead. Before he could press his hand to your skin though, you backed away out of his reach.

“I’m perfectly fine. It’s just a tiny headache.” You lied, your head throbbing with a migraine even as you said it.

“Hm.” Chan’s face softened a little as he sighed. “A headache? Do you need water? I have some pills that could help numb the pain.”

You shook your head vehemently. “I don’t want anything you offer me.” You tried to ignore the flash of hurt in his eyes as you said the words. No, Chan wasn’t the victim here, you were. What right did he have to display vulnerability?

“Fine.” Chan opened his mouth, looking like he had more to say. For a second, he contemplated blurting everything out then and there. He wanted you to know the pain he’d been living with through his years...he wanted you to know that despite your betrayal, you were all that was a constant in his mind. And yet, as he continued watching your icy glare, he knew you weren’t in a position to be amicable.

“Get some rest.” He muttered, anger seeping in again at your coldness, mixing with the concern that was still etched into his heart.

“That’s what I was fucking doing before you woke me up so rudely.”

Ugh. God, he really did have enough of your behavior.

“Stop being a brat, Y/n. Just because you’re sick doesn’t mean you get to be snippy with me. You have no right to be angry.”

The fuck? Oh, this entitled prick-

“I have every right to be! This is my house you just barged into, I make the rules here. So shut up and leave me alone.” You spat out, clenching your fists.

Chan felt an unknown urge creep through his being as you continued your remarks, scrunching his eyes shut and trying to calm himself down for a second. Okay, so this definitely wasn’t the sunshiney Y/n he’d once known.

“Felix asked me to stay, I didn’t barge in.. God, you really are a bitch. I’m a guest here, and yet you’re treating me like-”

That was the last straw. You inhaled deeply, feeling your headache grow worse as your anger amplified. You’d had enough. Biting your lip, you shoved past him and headed for the front door. You couldn’t be in the same space as this dickhead for a second longer.

“Where are you going?” His voice was confused, as he turned to look at you storming out in your pajamas.

“Fuck you. Away from here.” You explained, flashing him one last glare over your shoulder as you slammed the door behind you.

Chan stood in the middle of the room, letting out a deep sigh at your sudden departure.

What was he going to tell Felix? He’d promised himself that he’d keep it civil.

He seemed to be breaking a lot of promises lately...

***

You stood outside of the door, leaning against it and trying to calm down your breathing, chest heaving. Just the sight of him brought back memories you wished you could bury. How could you be expected to live in the same place as him without wanting to tear out your eyeballs?

Just when you’d thought you were finally moving on, he barreled his way back into your life. It wasn’t like you hadn’t tried to be mature.

You just wanted him to know you were no longer the meek little optimistic girl you once had been. Adult life has a cruel way of opening your eyes.

Rose colored lenses eventually lead to dismay and disappointment.

***

You didn’t realize you were going to Minho’s apartment until you reached his door, hand poised over the door to knock. Breathing in, you firmly rapped on the wood. A few minutes of silence passed, and you tilted your head in confusion. Minho usually answered the door right away, without too much delay.

You waited a bit before deciding to ring the doorbell, heaving a sigh of relief when the door finally opened, revealing a smiling Minho.

“Hey, thought it was you. I was in the shower.” Clearly. His hair was slightly wet and he’d clearly pulled on the first shirt he could find- unless he actually liked wearing 2009 Britney Spears t-shirts around the house.

Why was the universe chucking so many soaking wet boys at you today? At least Minho was clothed.

You chuckled as you pointed out the motif on the shirt. “’Oops I Did It Again’? Really?”

He shook his head, crossing his arms. “Hey, that music video is a masterpiece. Did you know it was released on my birthday?”

You giggled. “Of course it was.”

He smiled, before standing up straighter. “Wait, why are you here?”

You pursed your lips playfully. “Do I need a reason to visit one of my best friends?”

“Of course you don’t. We just spent time together in the afternoon, though. Is there a reason you’re back so early?” He questioned, placing a finger on his chin and pretending like he was deep in thought. “Oh, got it. You can’t get enough of me.” He said smugly.

You rolled your eyes, walking in as he stood aside to let you in. Minho’s apartment was smaller than the one you shared with Felix, but a lot more nicely decorated. You flopped down onto the sofa, sighing. “That’s not it.” You shook your head. “It’s Chan.”

“Oh. Him.” Minho cleared his throat, crossing his arms as he came to sit down next to you. “What about him?” He asked carefully.

“He’s staying with us.”

“What?” Minho wasn’t sure he’d heard right for a moment, his eyebrows raising slightly.

“Yeah, Felix let him stay. Until he gets a job, apparently.” You groaned, slipping off your shoes and curling your knees up to your chest. “I can’t stand being around him. Not after what he did to me. You understand, right?”

Minho stayed silent for a few minutes, swallowing the lump in his throat as he leaned back. “Right…”

You watched Minho, frowning at his expression. “Anyway, as I said, I couldn’t stay there. Um, can I crash here for a few days? He said he’ll get a job soon and move out, so it’ll be quick.”

Minho’s eyes widened. “Oh? Yeah! You can! You can stay.” He blurted, trying not to seem too eager. His ears turned a light shade of red as he watched you nod in relief, snuggling further into the cushions. “I’ll take the couch.” You mumbled, eyes fluttering as you rubbed your forehead for the millionth time.

“No, you take my bed. I’m alright on the couch.”

You opened an eye, shaking your head. “Minho, this is your home. Unlike Chan, I’m a good house guest.”

“Yeah but... I don’t want you out here on the couch alone. This isn’t exactly a nice neighborhood.”

You sat up, sighing. “I’d feel bad stealing your bed while you sleep on this lumpy couch.”

“Aha! So you admit it’s uncomfortable! That’s it, you’re sleeping in my bed. Besides, it’s big enough for the two of us!”

Minho wished he could take it back almost as soon as he said it. “Um, I mean…”

You raised your eyebrows, shrugging. “Uh, no, it’s okay. I don’t mind.” You sat up, a little shakily as your head swam. “God, my head hurts.”

Minho shot up to his feet, sighing. “Come on, I’ll take you to bed.” He grabbed your hand gently, taking you to his bedroom and making you sit down on the edge. You hummed in content, eyes still closed as you burrowed under the covers, snuggling into Minho’s pillows that faintly smelled of his cologne. It was comforting, and soon you found sleep overtaking you.

Minho sighed as he watched you fall asleep, sitting on the edge of his bed. He was nowhere near sleepy and had originally been planning on making some dinner before you came, but now he didn’t want to leave you alone.

Groaning, he lay down on his mattress, pulling the sheets over his body and making sure to leave a respectful amount of distance between you.

He watched you for a while, your eyelashes fluttering slightly as you slept, chest rising and falling with your breaths.

He didn’t know what he was feeling, exactly. There were strong emotions gripping his heart, most of them towards you, and yet he couldn’t act on any of them. Hell, he couldn’t even comprehend half of them.

Minho turned to face the ceiling, eyes following the tiny crack in the plaster. He couldn’t deny it any longer.

Guilt. The heavy weight sat on his heart was guilt. Thick, all consuming guilt, that threatened to swallow him whole unless he came clean.

He knew he didn’t deserve you...not just because of how he’d acted, but also because of what he was keeping from you. He didn’t deserve for you to accept his apologies, not after the way he’d treated you. Not after he’d kept the complete truth about Chan from you.

Was he being an asshole? Chan was once his friend. A close friend, one he spent every day with. And yet he’d screwed him over.

For a minute, he wondered what would happen if he told you that he’d been the one to make the bet. He’d made Chan continue with it despite his reluctance. He’d noticed Chan actually falling in love with you, and yet had brushed it over.

Would you still be beside him now if you knew?

He doesn’t want to find out. No.

There was moonlight streaming through his window, illuminating the entire room too brightly. The light, combined with the remorse, ensured a sleepless night.

He glanced at you again. At least he’d have you by his side. For now...

#chan angst #chan smut #chan fluff #bang chan angst #bang chan smut #bang chan fluff #chris smut #chris angst #chris fluff #skz smut #skz angst #skz fluff #stray kids smut #stray kids angst #stray kids fluff #minho angst #felix fluff #felix angst

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everythingsinred · 3 years

Text

Let's Talk About NatsuMikan: Natsume (pt. 25)

Hi there.

According to Wikipedia, the term "star-crossed lovers" refers to a couple "whose relationship is thwarted by outside forces". Furthermore, "such pairings are said to be doomed from the start". Often, the tragic end of these pairings can be seen from a mile away, even though the audience may hope and wish desperately for things to be different. In fact, the relationship between Romeo and Juliet is immediately revealed to end tragically, with both of them dead. It's just a matter of watching the heartbreak unfold.

The same is true here. Natsume and Mikan are "doomed" from the start. You hope and wish desperately that fate will be kind to them, that certain things will be different, that they can be happy, but it's not to be and you know it, deep down. All you can really do is watch the specific way it all goes up in flames. Now that we know they're both romantically involved, star-crossed to be separated, we're about to see a tragedy unfold. Let's suffer about it.

Chapter One Hundred and Forty

The school was being invaded, and the only one of Shiki’s conditions that the ESP could not accept was Mikan being out of his reach. In order to save the school, Mikan allowed herself to be put into the ESP’s custody under the condition that she cannot be harmed or manipulated.

But Chapter 140 doesn’t start by checking in on Mikan or even showing the others’ reaction to her absence. Not yet.

Just in case you didn't know how this would end to begin with, Higuchi will let you know now. It will not end well!

The chapter starts with a monologue from Ruka about the lengths Natsume would go to for Mikan, but also pleading for him not to go anywhere. This is unsubtle foreshadowing. We see a glimpse of the future, of Natsume’s presumably dead body, and the misery his death brings. We can see more evidence of what we already knew: Natsume thinks so little of himself that he’s willing to sacrifice anything for others, never considering that his absence will cause utter despair in the people he leaves behind.

At this point, it becomes even more obvious that the story will end with tragedy, and Natsume's probable death will be part of it.

We finally get to the real start of the chapter. It’s winter again. Ruka is musing on life at the academy without Mikan. They all talk about her often, even after months of not seeing her. They don’t even know where at the academy she is, or what she’s been up to.

Just for a glimpse. ;-;

He recalls Yuka’s funeral. The children were instructed to leave the area, but it was the last time they’d see Mikan, so they all stay. Natsume doesn’t even have an umbrella despite the rain. Mikan was then escorted from Yuka’s grave by the ESP. Her classmates want to know where she’s going, concerned that she’s in trouble. When the ESP threatens Shiki for not disciplining them, Mikan smiles and promises to see them again.

Fate does not smile upon them.

Natsume watches, and although they’re all surprised and concerned, he seems more so than anyone else. The last time he saw her there was a lot left unsaid. She had confessed her requited feelings telepathically and he’d had to say goodbye over and over and over. But Mikan hasn’t used up all of the telepathy stone quite yet, so he’s able to promise her that he’ll do everything he can to find her. She smiles, tears in her eyes, and that’s the last image of her he has for a while. He will find her. That’s his new mission, his new reason for living.

Back in the present, Natsume finally appears to join the group. He’s been missing, looking for Mikan. He spends most of his time running around campus trying to find her. The telepathy alice stone is the only tie they have to each other now. It’s all he has to go off of.

He smiles upon joining the group. Mikan isn’t there, but he’s still smiling. It might not be entirely genuine. He’s smiled like this before, to make Ruka feel better before the Z Arc. He has to have hope, too, because he can’t die before he finds Mikan. Submitting to the misery will only mar his chances.

Ruka knows that Natsume’s long absences are due to his search, that he spends hours and hours looking for her, calling for her, waiting for a response.

Yes, Shiki, and as a minor, he CANNOT consent to being a member of a group that has "war potential" because that's against international law and you should be charged with human rights' violations. Also, since he's a child, even being a criminal wouldn't justify this kind of punishment either, on account of him not even being a teenager yet.

Natsume is still a Dangerous Ability type. Shiki urges him to transfer out, but Natsume can’t. He has to stay, because as a DA type he can search in more areas that are off limits to normal students. In general, the DA class is more comfortable now that they’re under the management of the Middle School, not the ESP. Still, it’s described as a group “with war potential” and he wants to feel like he’s doing something to protect the people important to him rather than simply standing by. Natsume’s mindset of always having to protect people, to the extent that when he cannot protect people he feels useless and worthless, is damaging. He thinks he has to do these things, and although the narrative paints the DA class choosing to remain as them choosing to protect people, it’s kind of ridiculous that a school would put such a task on students’ shoulders in the first place. They’re the ones who should be protected, not the other way around. No matter who is in charge of the DA class, sending kids on dangerous missions where they could get hurt is still child abuse and endangerment.

In any case, he’s told it’s useless to try and find her, that the barrier hiding Mikan is too powerful, but he won’t listen. He won’t let anything anybody says get in the way. Just like he said when he first rebelled, no matter how much somebody tries to convince him not to, he’ll do whatever it takes to protect her.

Chapter One Hundred and Forty-Two

Tsubasa is also opting to remain in the DA class. It’s easier to be in on the action that way, for one. He also wants to help Natsume because he’s concerned about his alice shape. Natsume and Misaki both tease him for this, and Tsubasa chases after Misaki. Natsume watches them wistfully. Tsubasa doesn’t even seem to realize how lucky he is. He can hug Misaki, tease her, apologize, talk to her, see her. Natsume misses Mikan and he’s jealous that Tsubasa is able to have with Misaki what he’d love to have with his own girl. So, naturally, he sets his hair on fire.

God, Tsubasa, have some sensitivity!

Back at the dorms, Yuu laments that Mikan won’t be allowed to attend the Christmas Ball, and it’s unlikely she’ll be allowed to graduate with them either. Hotaru comes up with the idea of sending Mikan Christmas presents, and everyone is immediately on board. They all try to come up with present ideas, but Natsume’s a step ahead, already making another alice stone for her.

Hotaru notices and immediately tears him apart for it. He knows the stone won’t make it through the examination, and the fact that even making alice stones takes a toll on his body will only make Mikan worry. In addition to all that, Mikan already has his alice stone, so there shouldn’t be any worries on the “love tradition” front.

Hotaru is Mikan’s best friend, someone who knows her pretty well and whose opinion Mikan cares about. This criticism wouldn’t hit as hard if it was some random person, or even just another kid in Class B. Because it’s Hotaru, he has to take it seriously. Hotaru is calling him out and he’s embarrassed and defensive, but she’s a step ahead of him, having thought of a much better present.

Natsume's like, "I'll be her prince!"

She gives him a story book, about Rapunzel. The story is similar to Mikan’s--a girl is trapped in a tower with no way to escape. She found a prince and they were able to escape together and live happily. All Mikan needs is to find her prince and the story would fit perfectly.

Natsume likes this story a lot. He wants to be Mikan’s prince. He has to be her prince. He doesn’t have a choice but to save her, because that’s all he’s living for. And letting Mikan know that a prince is on the way seems an important enough mission that everyone wants to help get Rapunzel through the examination. They will all send story books to make Rapunzel seem less suspicious. Of course that doesn’t stop Hotaru from claiming that the prince in her story is actually more useful than the one in Rapunzel, implying that Natsume is a subpar prince as well.

Chapter One Hundred and Forty-Three

It’s time for the Christmas Ball. Mikan isn’t there, so Natsume is morose. Just like last year, he finds refuge in the tree. Last Christmas was pretty nice, all things considered, because he got to kiss Mikan.

It's just not fair. All he wants is a smooch. And to save her and keep her safe but. The kiss too.

At the time, he’d thought it was a one-off, his only chance. He was just going to kiss her real quick because he was convinced Ruka already had, and then when it was done he would run away and never do it again. She wouldn’t want to kiss him over Ruka anyway, right? But apparently Mikan loves him too, something he had never even considered a possibility, so maybe she’d want to kiss him again?

Except that Mikan isn’t around and the only way he can see if she wants to kiss him again would be if he found her.

How come everyone is calling him out so boldly lately? You guys DO realize his days are numbered, right? Not even double digits? So cruel.

Sumire is talking about dancing with him this year, but he’s only thinking about Mikan. Koko calls him out for it, saying there’s someone in the tree thinking about kissing. It was such a strong thought that it took Koko by surprise, even.

There’s a present exchange and Yuu again expresses sadness that Mikan isn’t with them, wondering if she’s spending Christmas all on her own. This spurs Natsume to get the hell out of there. He can’t sit around for too long, after all. He wants to find her and he won’t find her at the ball for sure.

He’s out looking for her, just like he does every day and every night. Shiki might be a hopeless romantic, or feeling guilty for having Mikan watch the ball on TV, so he loosens the barrier on Mikan enough for Natsume to be able to find her.

Shiki is also a NatsuMikan shipper... You a legend for that one, fam.

He hasn’t seen her in months, not even after searching every corner of the school over and over again, but tonight he has finally found her.

Conclusion

Although in many ways, Natsume's story was set up to be tragic from the beginning, these chapters establish for good that something horrible is coming, and we know that to be Natsume's death, in about a week. I'll talk more about the star-crossed lovers aspect in the upcoming parts. It's an aspect of their relationship that I find very interesting.

Thank you for reading this far!

Y'all have caught up to where I'm at, more or less. I won't post tomorrow because there'd only be a chapter of content to post and that's no fun. I'll spend the weekend getting ahead a bit and then on Monday I'll continue. In no time at all, we'll be wrapped up! It's all so exciting!

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mymostimaginaryfriend · 3 years

Text

between a heart & a hard place

♛ 5x05: Teresa and James plan the heist (1.9k words; rating T; tags: missing scene, weaponized jazz music, angsty dancing)

➢ read on ao3 or below the cut:

The Van Gogh was beautiful. It was a shame they’d have to cut it from the frame, yet Teresa knew better than most that no beauty survived long in this world without collecting a few scars. So while it was a shame, it wasn't enough to stop her. Indeed, it’d be one of the only decisions she’d been forced to make lately that she wouldn’t lose any sleep over tonight.

Losing Kostya wasn’t an option. The pain of lost beauty was nothing compared to the pain of lost power.

They gathered in the hotel lobby, using the private concert by a semi-famous jazz pianist as cover for some recon. Kelly Anne gamely chatted up the hotel owner while Pote stifled a yawn and nursed his beer. James leaned casually against the bar, seemingly entranced by the music. It was only because she knew him so well that she could see the relaxed demeanor hid a man at work, busy formulating a plan. He hadn’t said much about his time away, but it was hard to believe any of it had involved art heists.

She felt a frisson of worry about putting him in unfamiliar, possibly dangerous territory but she knew better than to underestimate him. It was a lesson she’d learned the first day they’d met.

She followed his gaze to the piano, wondering what he was studying there. Teresa had never thought herself a jazz fan before moving to New Orleans, but it had become the soundtrack of her triumphs and heartaches over the past year. She found herself drawn to the melancholy of it, the soaring heights of a trombone, the plaintive pleas of a piano. Rising, falling, rising again. Even now, each soulful note plucked at her heartstrings with the simple strike of a key.

The song was beautiful, perhaps James was merely getting lost for a moment in the music. He’d said she’d changed and she had, but she wasn’t the only one. When he’d left, there’d been sharp edges, edges that should have been honed to lethal blades by his work with Devon and yet the James who had returned had a softness she was unprepared for. A sort of fragile vulnerability that made her want to shelter it from the wind like a flickering candle flame, to nurture and feed it until it was strong enough to warm her too. Her throat ached at the knowledge of how easily it could be snuffed out.

She’d almost done it herself this past week. It’d hurt to see the light in his eyes dim when he looked at her but that had been what she wanted, hadn't it? This distance between them. If it wasn’t easy, it was necessary. She’d rather let the sun set between them than watch the light in his eyes permanently go out because of her.

Emotional attachments equaled vulnerability. Romantic attachments could get you killed. She had needed someone once and his loss had nearly destroyed her. She felt in her bones she wouldn't be able to survive losing James. If she let him into her heart, his death would take that vital organ with him. For as much as she thought about the future these days, there was a part of her relentlessly certain in the knowledge that they’d never get there. Not in one piece.

That didn’t stop her from wanting to reach out to him though—for comfort, maybe, or reassurance. Perhaps it was the thought he no longer understood her that hurt the most, that made her want to seek communion with him skin to skin if not soul to soul. But that wouldn’t be fair to him, to push him away then pull him close just because she desperately needed someone—him—to tell her it’d be okay. That it was all worth it. She suspected his silence these last few days was answer enough.

It was for the best. The higher the climb, the longer the fall. She couldn’t afford weakness and neither could he. If he was no longer able to be as ruthless, then she would have to be ruthless enough for the both of them.

The song ended and she turned back to James to find that he wasn’t studying the room anymore. He was studying her, his expression inscrutable.

His gaze, like the silence between them, was heavy with unsaid words, words that might never be spoken at all but most certainly not here in public. Best to get back to business.

“You have a plan?” she asked, grateful that her voice remained steady.

He nodded.

“Walk me through it,” she murmured, eyes drawn back to the painting in question.

“Dance with me.”

Her attention snapped back to his face at his surprise counter offer. She’d expected a cool recitation of information—sight lines, security cameras, escape routes—not a softly uttered invitation to be close to him, to touch him for the first time since that night in New York.

“James,” she began, not sure if she meant it as the prelude to a warning or an apology.

A flash of emotion was quickly smoothed away by his normal mask of professionalism. “Relax,” he said, pushing off the bar. “I just need a reason to be in the northwest quadrant of the room.”

She shot him a questioning look and the corner of his mouth ticked up in muted amusement. “The dance floor,” he clarified, holding out a hand.

Right. Of course. The plan. Just business, just how she wanted it. She ignored Kelly Anne’s double take and took James’ hand, letting him lead her to the far side of the small dance floor.

Once it would have been a simple thing to step into his arms, but as the first few notes of the next song began, she hesitated. He might not recognize the tune, but after being a bar owner in New Orleans for over a year, she sure did.

They’re writing songs of love, but not for me. A lucky star’s above, but not for me.

If he noticed any significance, he hid it well, guiding one of her hands to his shoulder and holding the other against his chest. His other hand found her waist and turned her smoothly in the direction he needed to surveil.

She didn’t speak, letting him work in silence. She tried to concentrate on the people around them, the sound of the piano, the lights of the city beyond the windows, anything but the warmth of his body, not under the usual leather jacket, but the expensive fabric of his suit, his scent of new cologne and old cigarettes as foreign as it was familiar.

After a moment, he pulled her closer, leaning down to murmur near her ear. “We’ll do a smoke bomb, smash and grab. Extract the painting, ditch the van. Travel by motorcycle to the drop-off.”

“We?” Teresa asked, a little breathless. Some not small part of her wished she could watch him in action, especially in the kind of situation when no one was shooting back at them.

“Me,” James corrected. “You’ll be at the rendezvous point with Pote. I’ll use a two-man team—”

“One of the men?” Teresa asked. She trusted the crew that had accompanied her to Berlin to handle security but wasn’t sure who she’d recommend for a job that required the finesse of art theft.

“I know a guy nearby,” James told her and she let out a breath of laughter. Of course he did.

“You know everyone.” She turned to smile up at him but was taken aback by the seriousness of his expression.

“Not everyone.”

His words, or maybe the weight behind them, had her wondering if he was thinking of her.

She had done her best to hide her inner turmoil over the events of the last week. Suppressing her guilt and remorse over turning in Marcel. Hiding any misgivings she had about ordering the hit on the crooked cop with defensiveness or dismissal. She was la Jefa, it would do no good for anyone to see her doubts. So she'd put on strong front but hadn’t realized until now how much she’d depended on James seeing through it. He always had before.

“You think we made a mistake,” she ventured, allowing space for his answer to clarify what was specifically bothering him the most. Perhaps it was vindictive of her to use “we” but distance or not they were still in this together.

James looked away. “It’s over now.”

“That’s not an answer,” she pressed.

He frowned, hesitating. “I did. I don’t know. You were right, the feds were ready to raid us. Bringing in Gamble would have been their next step.”

It was almost shameful, the intensity of the relief that washed over her at his words. But by James' grim expression, it seemed he grew even more troubled by the admission.

“But?”

He glanced at her, eyes bleak. “His wife was home. She found him while I was still there.”

Teresa’s heart dropped in her chest. She knew from the news reports that there’d only been one victim that night but looking into James’ eyes she saw that it haunted him. The future that might have been. He’d have killed the wife too if she’d caught him. He’d have killed her for them.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, letting her hand find the tender skin of his neck and the staccato rhythm of his heart beat. “I’m sorry. But…”

His eyes briefly fluttered shut. “I know.”

If she couldn’t help herself from holding onto him a little tighter, it seemed he welcomed her momentary lapse. His hand sliding to the small of her back to draw her nearer until they were touching the entire lengths of their bodies, their only attempt at dancing a slight swaying from side to side.

“I just want to keep you safe,” he said, resting his cheek against her temple. She felt the old familiar panic at the implied even from yourself, but this wasn’t like Phoenix. He wasn’t trying to make decisions for her.

Couldn’t he see that she wished the same safety for him? That everything she did was in pursuit of this shared goal?

“I didn’t think I’d be back here,” he continued, slowing their sway until he was just holding her. “And now...hope is a dangerous thing. It draws your attention to the horizon instead of keeping it on the danger right in front of you.”

She wondered if he was feeling it too: the walls closing in from every angle, the same echoing dread that haunted her midnight hours. The ever narrowing window of daylight to that future someday.

But as the final notes of the song were played, even as the distance between them didn’t seem as vast anymore, even if for a moment she entertained the idea of not letting go, of leading him back up to the suite to finish repairing with their bodies what she’d bruised with her words, she knew that if they had any hope at all of that other life, they had work to do now.

James, as always, understood that better than anyone. He released her and smiled, eyes once again lit from within.

Many, many hours later while she waited in a safe location as he once again risked life and limb and freedom at her request, Teresa tried not to give too much credence to the sickening feeling in her stomach that the danger he’d mentioned earlier, the danger right in front of him that threatened their much dreamed about future…

....might end up being her.

(ao3)

#queen of the south #qots #qots fic #jeresa fic #jeresa #*ficbyme

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firstofficerwiggles · 3 years

Text

Signed, Sealed, Delivered

Sequel to Sending a Message (link)

Din Djarin x Female Reader

Rating: M, 18+ only please (If you prefer, I also have a T rating version of this fic that skips the sex click here)

Warnings: Smut, but like fluffy smut, unprotected sex – this is fantasy people, please be safe in real life

Summary: Din and the reader confess their feelings and then they have sex, there’s not a lot of plot here

Word count: approx. 3700

Author’s Note: This is a continuation of Sending a Message; I’ve included the ending lines of that fic here to start us off. This is only my second fic and my first time writing smut, so be gentle. Timelinewise with the show, this is some point between season 1 and 2 and the Razor Crest is still with us (RIP Space Honda Civic). Also, I’m going with the relaxed interpretation of the helmet rules that as long as you can’t see him, Din can take off the helmet. I hope you like it!

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“Thank you, for doing… for helping me out,” you feel rather flustered and it’s making you babble, “back there.” “I just couldn’t get those guys to bug off.”

“It was my pleasure,” he responds rather cheekily, “I figured I was going to get into a bar brawl, but I liked your idea a hell of a lot better.” He tilts his helmet at you and you can swear that you can hear the smile in his voice.

“Well, thank you, again” you say softly. He steps closer to you and you’re practically touching him as he looks down at you and says with a chuckle, “Any time you need me to feel you up again, just let me know.”

And before you can stop yourself, you blurt out, “I will.”

He laughs and tips his head down to you, “Message received.”

This whole evening has really been something. What started out as a little ploy to act like you and Din were a couple in order to stop those men from hitting on you, had quickly turned into you practically blurting out your feelings for him. But now, he’s teasing, dare you say, flirtatious, making you flustered. Is he actually interested in you? You would love to hope it were true, but he’s probably just laughing because this situation is quite funny, I mean you made him, practically demanded, he put his hand up your skirt in a crowded cantina and in front of the kid. Who does that? You can’t help but chuckle along with him. It breaks the tension of the moment and you decide it really is time to let him have some privacy and wind down from the day. You give Din a smile and a small nod before you turn to go when he reaches out and takes your arm, stopping you.

“What were you going to say?” he inquires.

“Nothing,” you reply, confused.

“No, I mean back at the cantina, before the waiter interrupted…” he explains, “it felt like you wanted to tell me something?” His voice is softer now, no longer teasing.

Oh? Oh! you remember that moment, Din’s hand caressing your thigh, turning you on, you moaning his name and wishing that he wouldn’t stop, that it was all true, and that you really were his.

“Oh, I… it wasn’t, it doesn’t matter…” you try to play it off, too nervous to tell him what you were really thinking.

“What was it?” he really wants to know.

“I--” you don’t know what to say, you just stare at the black visor in his helmet, all words escaping you.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” he says gently, “I want you to know you can always trust me.” He is still holding your arm, but now he slides his hand down to yours and gives it a gentle squeeze.

“I do trust you, but, maybe some things are better left unsaid.” You’re afraid that if you tell him the truth, it could ruin your friendship. You look down, worried the emotion in your eyes will give you away.

“I think I want to hear it,” Din urges you, tenderly, “I think I need to hear you say it.” He steps closer to you, brushes a tendril of your hair off your face, and gently strokes your cheek. His hand stops on your chin and tips your face up so he can look in your eyes.

And you can’t help but tell him the truth, “I wanted to tell you how much I was enjoying it, enjoying you touching me, how I didn’t want it to stop, and how I wanted it to be real, to really be yours.” The words come out in a breathless rush of emotion.

Din feels a warmness permeate his chest at your words and he lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He’s been imagining this moment for a while now, wanting to know if you have feelings for him and wanting to try to show you how he feels. But these emotions are new to him and he has been at a loss for how to say something or do something. He needed you to make the first move, to guide him before he screwed it all up. In the past, his romantic interactions with women, if you can call them that, have been brief sexual liaisons lasting only a couple of hours at the most. With you though, he knows this is something more, he wants it to be something more. Yet, he feels like an awkward, gawky teenager trying to express himself around you. Your words give him confidence though and he tells you,

“It was real to me,” his voice sounding huskier than usual “I didn’t have to pretend at all.”

“You didn’t?” you sound surprised, “I mean, you, wanted to do that?”

He chuckles softly, “Did I want to touch you? Hell, yes. I’ve wanted to touch you practically since the moment we met,” he confesses. “It’s not how I imagined it happening, but I’m glad it did.” He pauses for a moment and shuffles on his feet a bit. He has had years of intense training, but would it have killed them to add in a few lessons on how to talk to women? At least you’re smiling at him, so you’re clearly pleased with his words. He plows on because he wants you to understand this isn’t just about lust, “It’s more than just wanting to touch you though, I want to be close to you, to share more with you, because I can talk to you, and you listen, you understand me, and you’re so beautiful.” Oh Maker, he’s babbling like a nitwit.

Thankfully for Din’s sake, you don’t care that his words aren’t smooth, and you jump in before he can panic too much, “Din, I want that too,” you tell him your face lighting up with joy, “I care for you so much.” You take his other hand in yours and give them both a light squeeze to punctuate your words.

Din is quiet for a moment but squeezes your hands in response and then says, “I’m smiling. I know you can’t see it, but would you like to feel it?”

“How?” you’re curious and excited about the prospect.

“How do you feel about the dark?” he asks more confident now.

You think about what he’s implying, and you say rather flirtatiously, “I like the dark.”

“Let’s get more comfortable, first.” Din has a plan of action now and he feels more at ease. Still holding your hand, he leads you over to your sleeping area where you have a semblance of a ‘room’ with some storage crates pushed up against one of the walls of the ship acting as chairs. You watch as he removes his cape, gloves, and armor, placing everything in a neat pile on top of one of the crates, but he leaves on his helmet and one of his vambraces. He then sits down on the other crate, tilts his helmet at you, and then pats his lap suggestively. You let out a small laugh, he’s so cute, and then eagerly settle yourself on his lap again. Without all the beskar, he’s much warmer and now you can feel his body even though he’s still wearing his protective clothing. He seems content just to hold you for a moment as you let yourself relax in his arms.

“Ready for the dark?” he asks.

“Mmm, yes,” you reply. He presses a few buttons on his vambrace and you are plunged into almost total darkness; there is only a tiny bit of ambient light from a few of the glowing buttons on the ship, but at most all you can see are shadowy figures even as your eyes adjust. He has to let go of you for a moment, and you sit up a little, giving him space to move. You can hear the shuffling of him removing his vambrace and then, the helmet. One of his arms wraps around you again, pulling you back against his broad chest and his other reaches down to find your hand. You gasp a little at the touch of his bare hand; it’s softer than you would have thought and much warmer without the glove. He brings your hand up to his face letting you caress his jawline.

“Can you feel that I’m smiling?” Din’s voice sounds different without the modulator but you love it because you can hear the emotion in his voice more clearly. You let your hands wander to his cheeks where you can feel a dimple on one side, then, you move towards his mouth and gently run your fingertips along his lips.

“Yes, I can. I’m glad that you’re smiling, you deserve to be happy,” you tell him.

“You make me happy,” he says and you can feel his smile widen.

“I can also tell that you have a mustache and some sexy scruff on your jaw,” you say playfully as you resume your exploration of his face.

He chuckles at that, “I can always shave if you prefer.”

“No, no, I like it.”

You let your hands wander into his hair around the back of his neck feeling how thick and soft his hair is. “You have curly hair,” you say with delight, “I like that too.” He laughs again, amused by your pleasure at discovering more about him. You play with the curls at the base of his neck and slowly bring his head closer to yours.

“May I kiss you?” Din whispers against your lips.

“Yes,” you breathe, and then you feel him pull you closer and gently touch his lips to yours. His kiss is tender and slow at first, and he moves his lips with yours in a delicate dance. You sigh into him and as you open your mouth, he follows and deepens the kiss. You feel his tongue brush over yours and it ignites a spark within you. You entwine your fingers into his curls and kiss him back passionately, showing him the depth of your feelings. He kisses you until both of you are breathless and panting. He begins to let his hands wander, stroking your back with one and bringing the other up to caress your neck. His lips follow his hand as he places soft kisses down the column of your neck. You let your own hands explore, running them over his well muscled shoulders and back.

“You’re so strong,” you say softly to him, and you can feel his lips pull into a smile against your skin. He doesn’t say anything but returns to your lips and kisses you intensely, showing you how pleased he is with your praise.

“Tell me what you want me to do,” Din says his voice taking on a sensual tone. He has a desire to recreate the scene in the cantina.

“I want you to touch me,” you respond, “Be handsy again,” you flirt with him.

“Gladly.” He brings his hand up to the exposed skin of your upper chest and lets his fingers skim near the neckline of your dress, only this time your feel his warm fingertips instead of his glove. He begins to let his fingers wander underneath the material of your dress, gently caressing the curves of your breasts and the edge of your bra. You let out a sighed, “yes,” as you lean into his touch, encouraging him. It’s enough of a positive sign for him and he lets his entire hand slip into the bodice of the dress and under your bra palming your breast and seeking out the sensitive tip of your nipple. His fingers circle and brush over the hardened peak causing several moans to fall from your lips. He pulls you back into another searing kiss before repeating his actions with your other breast. He tugs at your clothing a little, pulling it open so that both of your breasts are now exposed to him. He turns you slightly so that he can keep up the work of his fondling hand and fingers, but now he can also dip his head to capture your tight bud in his mouth. You moan his name over and over as he licks and suckles your breasts, causing you to arch your back and move your hips over his lap feeling the hardness of his arousal as you do. It makes Din groan out and he raises his head back to yours for another kiss.

His hand travels lower now, down to your legs, and he drags his fingertips over them lightly in a playful manner until he reaches the hem of your skirt, “What should I do now?” he muses.

“Din,” is all that you can say, slightly exasperated.

“Hmm? What was that?” he kisses the tip of your nose.

“Din, please” you breathe out.

“Please what? What would you like me to do?” he places a kiss in the hollow of your throat.

“Please put your hand up my skirt,” you beg him.

“I thought you’d never ask,” he says with a chuckle.

“You’re driving me crazy with all of this teasing,” you tell him.

“Good,” he responds as he caresses his way up your leg the same way he did in the cantina, only this time he keeps going until he reaches the apex of your thighs. He brushes his fingers over your cloth-covered core making you gasp and tremble slightly. “Should I keep going?” he asks, not to tease this time, but to make sure you are comfortable.

“Yes, please keep going,” you tell him and you reach out to bring him back in for a kiss to show him how much you are enjoying his touch. His fingers find the edge of your panties and make their way to where you want him the most. As he grazes over the delicate folds, you moan and let a shiver of pleasure take over your body.

“You’re so wet for me already, sweetheart,” Din is pleased as his touch gets firmer and he brings your wetness up to your tight bundle of nerves and lets his fingers begin to circle there. All you can say is his name as rational thought is leaving your mind. He shifts his hand and lets his thumb continue to strum your clit while his long middle finger slowly slides inside of you. He sets a steady pace, thrusting his finger in and out being sure to brush the particularly sensitive spot on the top of your walls. A string of mewls and cries are ripped from your throat as your pleasure mounts, “Yes, baby, let me hear you,” Din encourages as he adds a second finger to his thrusts. You feel your internal muscles being to flutter as he guides you to your peak, higher and higher, until you see stars and cry out his name. He keeps up his movements as you ride out your orgasm.

He has you so keyed up that you start to feel the pleasure burn through you again. He starts to slow his fingers and pull away when you grab his wrist to keep him in place and tell him, “Not yet. I can. Again.” It’s all you can get out but it’s enough for him to understand what you need. He renews his movements with vigor as he asks, “Can you? Can you come again for me, sweetheart?” he sounds impressed. You groan in response and he continues with dirty praise, “So responsive to me, letting me get you so hot and wet.” The deep rumble of his voice is all you need and you reach the height of your pleasure a second time, clenching even harder around his fingers, and shuddering all over.

Din presses light kisses to your chest, throat, and face as you come down from your high. He captures your lips again with his own. He can’t believe how wonderful that was. Din’s always thought himself to be a decent lover, making sure his partners enjoy themselves, but he’s never relished foreplay so much before. He loves knowing that he is the one making you feel so good, making you want him as much as he wants you.

“You are incredible,” you tell him breathlessly.

“You’re the incredible one,” he responds, “Does that happen often? Twice, I mean?”

“Only with you.”

“I’m honored,” Din says but you can hear a little smugness in his voice and you smile at his pride in his own sexual prowess.

You sit up a little straighter on his lap and it brings your attention back to the evidence of his desire for you. “I think I’ve been a little greedy though,” you tell him, “Tell me how I can make you feel this amazing. Tell me what you want.”

“I want to make love with you, to feel you around me, to know that you are mine,” he answers you in the most romantic words you’ve ever heard. You lean in to kiss him deeply in response before pulling back to tell him, “I want that too.”

You stand up, pull your dress over your head and shed your bra and panties, so that you are completely naked before him. You hear Din remove his clothing too, and when he pulls you back into him, all you can feel is his warm skin against your own. You reach up to kiss him again, reveling in the feeling of your soft curves against his hard muscular frame. You back up towards your bed still kissing him, but you miscalculate the distance in the dark and you both end up tumbling onto the bed. You giggle in amusement as Din says, “And I thought I was being so smooth,” and joins in your laughter. It feels good to just laugh with him, to feel him so relaxed and happy. Din enjoys the moment too, amazed at the easy way he can connect with you. With the other women he’s taken to bed, he knows such a clumsy fumbling would have been awkward and unsexy, but with you, it feels natural and light.

As Din shifts his body over yours, his movement causes a delicious friction across your skin, and your laughter dissipates into a soft moan of pleasure. He positions himself between your thighs and lets out his own moan as you brush your hips up into his. Din’s lips find your neck and he begins placing open-mouth kisses all over your throat and chest, returning to your breasts to lavish them with even more attention. When he lifts his head, he brings himself back up your body and as he does so, you can feel his hard cock brush over your sensitive folds. He leans down to your ear and says, “Some other time I want to taste all of you, but I can’t wait any longer to make you mine,” and you feel him position himself at your entrance.

“Yes, Din, make me yours,” you tell him, pleadingly, and he slowly enters you letting you adjust to his size as he goes. When he is fully sheathed within you, both of you release a sound of pleasure at finally being joined. You stay still for a moment enjoying the feel of him deep inside you. Din has to bite his lip and hold himself there or this will all be over way too soon. In a way, he’s glad for the dark because seeing you at this instant might send him into bliss right now. He can feel you getting a little impatient though as you flutter yourself around him, tightening and releasing him, and making him practically growl at you. Din gives in to your impatience, beginning to roll his hips slowly in gentle thrusts allowing you to feel every inch of him. You bring your hips up to meet his, changing the angle slightly and he is able to penetrate you even deeper. This earns you a forceful moan from him and he increases his pace.

“You’re so tight, sweetheart, but you take me so well,” Din praises you.

“Oh, Din, you feel fantastic, so big, so hard,” you gasp out as you lift your legs and wrap them around his waist moving in perfect counterpoint to his thrusts and grinding your clit against him. “Faster, please” you beg him and he is happy to comply. You are still so sensitive from earlier and you feel a powerful orgasm starting to build within you like a spark of light getting brighter and brighter each time Din drives himself in and out of your body. He begins to cry out your name and you know he is getting closer to his climax too. You chant out his name as if it’s all that you know how to say as the light overtakes your body in a white-hot intensity and then shatters into a thousand glittering stars. Din feels you come apart beneath him, your internal muscles clenching around him. He wishes he could see your face, but for now, he just enjoys hearing the way you cry out his name and feeling you shudder with ecstasy. He thrusts a few more times trying to prolong the pleasure as much as possible, before letting his own release overtake him, shouting your name as he spills himself inside you.

As you both drift back down from your peaks, you reach up to kiss him again tenderly. Din rolls off you to lie on his back and you shift with him settling in the crook of his arm. You pillow your head on his chest and wrap your leg around his, cuddling up to him.

“I never thought I’d say this, but I’m glad those guys were hitting on you,” Din says with a snicker, “I should have taken you to more cantinas.”

You chuckle with him, “It’s not your typical romantic beginning, I suppose,” you reply, “but if that’s what it took to get you to really be mine, I won’t complain.”

“I’ll let you in on a little secret,” Din says, “I was already yours,” and you can hear the smile in his voice again.

“Maybe so, but now, I know that you’re mine and I’m going to make sure that everyone else knows it too.”

“Sending more messages?” Din chuckles, “I’ll be happy to help you deliver them.”

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Thank you for reading!

#the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian x female reader #din djarin x female reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian smut

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9layerdevilfoodcake · 3 years

Text

HelloGoodbye/Part 1:It’s The End Of The World As We Know It

Summary: it’s the last day of life as you know it at Camp Redwood when the apocalypse comes calling, but what does that mean for the souls shackled to this particular hellmouth?

Word count: 3.3k

Warnings: mentions of death, implied-ish smut, the end of the world?

The day the world ended started out the same as any other.

You woke up to the sunrise, wrapped in a jumble of blankets, limbs and bleached hair.

Sleep wasn’t really necessary for the undead, but it just came naturally, like muscle memory. Plus it was a nice way to pass the time.

But it was what came after a good night’s sleep that was your favorite part of the day, more specifically it was waking up next to him.

There are few things better in life (past or present) than waking up in his arms.

Your lover? Boyfriend? Mutual sufferer in eternal purgatory?

You’re not really sure what you would call him. You and Xavier both agreed the afterlife was no place for labels.

But if you asked any of the other souls shackled to this hellmouth with you, they would all call you two the same thing; inseparable.

It had been that way for decades, you spent almost every reawoken moment together. He was the one thing that made your afterlife feel as though it’s axis tipped more towards heaven than hell.

He was the light at the end of the tunnel. And looking at him now, eyes closed, lips parted, and sleeping soundly without a care in the world. You might go as far as to say you are thankful you didn’t listen to your gut, and made the (what at the time you thought regrettable) decision to take your friend's extra ticket and step foot on the haunted site for a music festival, one that never even happened mind you.

You got stabbed in the face and she didn’t get to blow Billy Idol, you guess you would call the weekend a bust for the both of you.

You’re comfortably laying back and reminiscing, when you feel Xavier stir.

The long hum that leaves his lips, followed by their soft touch on your shoulder lets you know he’s awake and it’s followed by a mumbled “Good morning”.

“Good morning” you answer back. Leaning down to plant a chaste kiss on his lips. A little too chaste for his liking, so before you can pull away he grabs hold of the back of your neck and pulls you back down for more.

One perk of being dead, no morning breath. There’s no need to break the mood with a trip to the bathroom to brush your teeth. Not that that would stop him anyways, through your time with Xavier you have come to realize that there are very few things he won’t try, and even less he would determine “too gross” to kill his mood.

So much like countless mornings before this, it’s a good couple of hours before you two make it out of bed and decide to properly “get up”.

“What should we do today?” He asks as he’s rummaging through the luggage some ghost adventurer left behind in their haste to “get the fuck out of this place”. It had been years since anyone around here had partaken in any blood sport. But that didn’t mean there was still no fun in scaring the tourists. (And maybe occasional bets were taken to see who could get a camper to wet themselves first).

He pauses and holds up a pair of dark blue wranglers, waiting for your opinion.

You just shake your head in dismissal.

“We haven’t been in the lake in a while. We could take a dip...then maybe you could take a dip…” you say wiggling your eyebrows to insinuate your innuendo, while you make your way over to the stash, taking over the search for yourself.

“No”

“Why not?” You know the reason for his rejection, but can’t help giving him a little pout anyways.

“After what happened last time? Not happening.” His voice is stern but with the underlying playfulness that’s always present between the two of you.

“Oh come on...I won’t let that happen again.”

“Believe it or not, drowning is not fun, dead or alive. And you know what’s worse than drowning once? Coming back to and drowning again because the person with their legs wrapped around your head hasn’t even noticed!” He emphasizes his “anger” by snatching the green umbro shorts you’d found from your hands and proceeding to dramatically stomp his legs through the holes before pulling them up around his hips.

“You only have yourself to blame for that, if you weren’t always such a tease I would have known something was wrong. I just thought you were trying to work me up and build my anticipation, not give me some signal your foot was stuck in the mud” You argue back tossing him a cut off Duran Duran t-shirt, that despite its tag saying 2018 has been given holes and bleached to give it a “vintage” look. The irony of donning such items always makes you laugh.

As he finishes getting dressed you simply look at him with that same pout back on your face, although it slowly morphs into a smile as you see his resolve slipping away.

Who is he kidding, he could never say no to you. He would do anything you ever asked. He would drown every hour, on the hour, if it kept you looking at him the way you are now.

“Fine, but if I start slapping your thighs it is not to keep you in line, it’s me begging for oxygen.”

“Ok” you agree with a chuckle as you grab his hand and head to the door, but he holds his place, making you turn and raise a brow at him.

“And the next time those birdwatchers are in camp, you have to blow me in front of that Condor’s nest they all jizz their jeans for.”

“Sure” you answer, shrugging your shoulders, not a bad trade...

“While they’re taking pictures of it.”

You pause for barely a moment to think that over, who were you kidding, you’re just as whipped as he is.

“Deal”

You weren’t in the water very long before you heard it, a siren sounding in the distance.

Xavier had only just removed your bottoms before you were pulling him up by his hair.

“What?” He asks, as he emerges, shaking droplets out his face with a look of confusion mixed with some underlying self doubt. “What’s wrong?”

“Do you hear that?”

As you both listen the sirens start to get louder and new ones join in the cacophony of sounding alarms.

“Yea, they’re probably just testing the storm sirens?”

“All of them?”

Before Xavier can talk you out of worrying and let him “get back to work” you’re interrupted by Chet yelling at you from the dock.

“Hey! You guys should see this”

Once you both redress you make your way to the cabin which once upon a time was assigned to the male counselors, but now it serves as more of a clubhouse for the lingering spirits. Upon entry you see almost every soul in the camp crowded around the TV.

There have only been two occasions when you have all collectively been in the same place at the same time; when you got revenge on Margaret, and when you made plans for what to do about the “Ramirez problem”.

Something big must be happening.

“What’s going on?” Xavier inquires as you join the group.

“The end of the world” Answers Montana, in a voice so calm she almost sounds bored, it’s like that happens every week.

“Oh no did Belinda Carlyle die?!”

“No...not yet anyway”

Your attention is brought back to the flat screen television Jingle’s son Bobby had gifted you. After his visit, he had been kind enough to set up wifi around the camp, as well as pay for a cable package, with the help of Brooke and Rita (or whatever her real name was). After hours of trying to explain how a touch screen works, as well as the grappling concept of Bluetooth; he deemed the pursuit pretty much a wash. But you did all know how to work a television, so most days were spent watching reruns of Knight Rider or Press Your Luck, and checking in with the nightly news.

So now you found yourself surrounded by your fellow ghosts, watching the man on the tv announce the incoming missiles and saying a teary goodbye to his family.

“What does this mean? I mean for us?” The question came from one of the victims of the first massacre in the 70s, whose name you were now feeling a little guilty for never bothering to learn.

It was a good question nonetheless, your souls kept coming back after just about any obstacle thrown at you, staying attached to the camp, but would they stay attached to a camp that wasn’t even there?

Unfortunately this was also a question nobody knew the answer to.

“Should we go to a basement or something?” Chet chimed in

“I doubt a basement will win the fight against a nuclear bomb, at least this close to the blast radius.” Trevor now spoke up, making his way over to the television to check another news channel, before addressing the group. “Besides does that even matter for us?”

“I guess we’ll find out soon enough”

As everyone is switching back and forth between intently checking the news and murmuring confusion between each other, you pull Xavier aside.

“Xavier, just in case we don’t make it. I just want you to know” you start, averting your gaze as you feel the tears begin to pool in your eyes. “...I just...I’m really...you’ve been…” you’re trying to find a way to tell him how much he’s meant to you, and the amount of gratitude you have for his patience and understanding, how he’s made every day a memorable one for you, how he’s the best person you’ve ever known, dead or alive. How you don’t believe you’ve actually been stuck wandering the earth together all these years, because when you’re with him you think you must have done something right in your life, because there is no doubt in your mind this is what heaven feels like. But you can’t, you can’t get a single word out if you want to keep any semblance of calm and keep the flood gates from opening.

Thankfully Xavier stops you before your nonsensical blubbering can go any further.

“I know, you have too.” He says this as he clasps your hands in his, before moving one hand up to wipe a stray tear from your cheek and bringing your attention back to him. As you look at him you see glassy blue orbs filled with tears that match your own, holding behind them eons of love and unsaid devotion. But he is much better at holding himself together so he marches on.

“If something happens and we don’t make it through this. Or we end up in some new shittier purgatory, I promise you I’ll come find you there! There is nothing in this life or any other that can keep me from you, okay? We’re gonna be alright though, I promise”

All you can do is nod your head, and muster up enough strength to get out a quiet “I love you”

“I love you too”

You and Xavier sit on the bunk that was once designated as his, all those years ago when he came here with the hope of a fun summer away from his troubles. Back then he was always running; running to something, running from something. There was never any certainty in his life, not even in his after life, not until you.

Now he’s starting to feel like that scared boy he once was. The one once found on the edge of death in MacArthur Park, trying so desperately to feel anything, and trying even more in vain to make that feeling last. He had nothing to loose back then in his desperate pursuit for euphoria. But he learned real fast that when things sounded too good to be true they most certainly were.

And that’s why he holds you closer now. Because you were the greatest good he has ever known, and there is certainly no way someone as wretched and cursed as him could ever keep someone as exceptional and pure as you.

He’d tasted bliss for too long now, and it must be time for the collector to come calling. But that didn’t mean he would let you go without a fight, because here in your arms is the only place that has ever felt like home, and he would protect his fortress come hell or high water (or the literal end of the world).

But that fight may or may not come and right now was about settling your nerves and keeping you calm. So he puts his resolve on the back burner and moves to pull you into his lap to whisper words of love and encouragement while you wait for the missiles to strike.

You feel them before you hear them, the impact on the earth, who knows how many miles away, before it broke the sound barrier. You didn’t even have enough time to process the incoming force before you were knocked out and everything and everyone you had known for decades was wiped away.

There is no way to tell how much time has passed when you wake in a pile of rubble and ash, with no discernable clue as to where you were in relation to the miles of identical rubble and ash that surrounded you. You weren’t sure where in the camp you were. The only thing keeping you believing this was even still Redwood were the semblance of remaining trees around you. Other than that there was nothing else insight but dirt and debri, and no sign of any other soul.

After you got your bearings you go in search of Xavier, or anyone else for that matter.

After a few minutes you come across a spot of land that seems vaguely familiar. Although there are no more cabins and no more dock, you’re pretty sure the crater that sits before you used to be the lake.

The lake where you died.

The lake you had no escape from for the past 30 years.

The lake you were swimming in only a few minutes ago.

The lake where you and Xavier spoke your first words to each other.

The lake where you sat on the dock dipping your toes in the water as you told one another that you loved each other for the first time.

The lake that you used to think if you never saw again, would be too soon.

The lake that you would now give anything to see full again.

After a couple minutes lost in your reverie, you hear a voice in the distance. One you’d recognize anywhere.

Without a moments hesitation you take off towards its source.

After tripping over countless branches and what you can only assume used to be one of the cabins you make it to a clearing and see Xavier bounding your way with Chet in tow.

“Oh my god! Thank god you're okay!” He breathes out as he pulls you into his embrace. You feel him exhale in relief as he holds you, before he lets you go in order to inspect you, searching for any signs of distress.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

“No I’m fine, are you ok?”

After looking him over in return to make sure everything’s alright and he gives you a nod, you look over to Chet, who you had quite honestly forgotten was there.

“You too?”

“Yea we’re fine, it’ll take more than one measly nuclear bomb to take down all this” he accentuates by raising his shirt and slapping his abs.

“I’m glad to see your modesty survived the blast as well” you answer giving him a wink and a nudge before you continue.

“we should find the others.”

It took a couple hours to track down the rest of your group. At least what felt like it, with the clocks gone there was no telling what time it was.

And the haze the bombs left kept it constantly looking like dusk.

After regrouping you all agreed you should look for any pieces of camp left behind, any signs of life, or just any signs of anything at all.

And that’s how it went for the next couple of days. You would walk around looking for signs of life, and finding very few momentos left behind by the camp. Then every once in a while you would all regroup in the middle of the crater that was once the lake, and switch between theories of what was happening out in the rest of the world and reminiscing about times when this place was still standing.

Almost everyone in your group of confidants, aside from Ray, was sitting at your usual meeting spot when he came barreling towards you all.

“You guys come here I have to show you something.” His voice was full of excitement.

“What?” Montana asked back, thoroughly unimpressed with his optimism. You had never met two people more different. To Montana, Ray was like a pesky mosquito, who she would often shoo away, that is when she wasn’t bossing him around and telling him to “make himself useful”.

“Just trust me it’s important.”

After a few minutes of grumbling and feet dragging. You and Xavier, Montana, Trevor, and Chet made your way to the empty piece of land Ray was pointing at. Picking up Bertie and the real nurse Rita along the way.

“What? What are we supposed to be looking at?” Bertie questioned, taking it upon herself to ask what you were all wondering.

“Right here.” He points to a spot on the ground, that aside from the line he had made with his shoe, looked the exact same as the rest of your surroundings.

“This is the entrance to Camp Redwood.”

“How do you know? There’s nothing here.” Xavier pointed out motioning around to the surrounding emptiness.

“I have measured the number of steps to the entrance, from just about every place in this camp.”

“God somebody needs to get laid. You have way too much time on your hands.” Xavier regards. And you can’t help but let a laugh slip out.

Narrowing his eyes at that comment, Ray attempts to defend himself. “We’ve been here for decades. Chet wouldn’t even talk to me for years, and before you met y/n, you and Montana only acknowledged me when I was cleaning up your messes, and I….you know what I don’t have to explain myself. What I’m about to show you will have you praising me for the way I chose to pass the time. You should all be kissing my loafers for this.”

Ray was really getting sick of still being the butt of the other counselors jokes and jabs. Even now at the end of the world, when he has made such a monumental discovery.

Deciding not to waste more time getting upset he proceeds.

“So as you know most of the camp has been destroyed and there aren’t really any notable places left behind? Well there is one. The tree we all signed our names on, well most of it anyways. But lucky for us I could still make out both Trevor and Xavier’s names. And exactly 644 steps straight ahead of those signatures is the entrance to the camp.

“You’re point being?” Montana snips, tired of waiting for him to get to the climax of his story.

“My point being. Right now I am in Camp Redwood.”

He says, before he slowly and dramatically takes one long stride over the line he had drawn.

“...now I’m not...”

“and I feel fine”

Notes: i wasn’t really planning on uploading any of my writing here, but I feel like there is more of an interest in Xavier content than on ao3 so why not? Basically the jist of this comes from speculating what would happen to the spirits stuck at the hellmouth’s after the apocalypse (which I know many people have wondered and we’ve never been given a definitive answer). So I wondered what would happen if the whole world became one large hellmouth and the spirits could roam free. This series follows you an Xavier as you eventually make your way to rumored Sanctuary. It will involve Michael Langdon, and as of right now might get kind of dark, so fair warning. Anyways, thank you for reading!

Tagging this supporting queen: @guiltyfiend

#Xavier Plympton #Xavier Plympton x reader #ahs 1984 #michael Langdon

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