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buddiebeginz · 8 months ago

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Since I'm still seeing posts where people are saying Buck wanted Tommy's attention in 7x04 I thought I would do a break down of the episode. Cause the entire thing was about how Buck wanted Eddie's attention full stop and I'm baffled that some of you missed that it wasn't exactly subtle:

This is going to be a long post with gifs so I'll put it under the cut

First there was the mansion call. (I know some might say this scene is different because it was meant to be a part of episode 7x05. Doesn't matter they changed the order so it's canon for this ep and so Buck's behavior in it is relevant).

Buck trying to get Eddie's attention with the random facts he knows and also because he knows no one listens and appreciates that stuff about him like Eddie:

Buck glued to Eddie's side the whole call.

Buck also not showing any interest in the ladies from the Bachelor while he's standing with Eddie.

---

Then you have the scene at the hanger:

Here's the thing I do believe Buck has an attraction to Tommy and is interested in him but the main draw Buck has to Tommy is because of the multiple similarities Tommy has to Eddie. The show was practically putting a neon sign above Eddie and Tommy multiple times saying that Tommy is a mirror of Eddie.

I'd also like to point out that maybe it was just me but Tommy didn't seem all that interested in Buck throughout this scene or really any scene until the last one. Now yeah he could have been being cautious because he didn't know if Buck was into guys but I honestly got the vibe he was into Eddie. I can't help but wonder if he was trying to get with Eddie and then maybe in Vegas Eddie told him he was straight (not that he is) or maybe Eddie just told him he has a beard girlfriend. No one can convince me otherwise that Tommy doesn't think there's something between Eddie and Buck. I 100% believe all Eddie did was talk about Buck when they hung out and Buck did the same thing right up until Tommy kissed him. That whole "my attention" line was very telling. Tommy you're gonna get your heart broken but I get it dude Buck is hot.

So anyway Buck goes for a tour and unsurprisingly he brings up Eddie before Eddie ever shows up. And while yeah it's him responding to Tommy saying he was in the army it just feels like a partner moment. Like yeah no way my boyfriend was in the army. Buck talking about Eddie is as second nature as someone talking about their spouse. They're such an integrated part of their life that they don't even realize how much they talk about each other. It'll be interesting to see if Buck does the same thing when he's on his date with Tommy too.

Then Eddie shows up and if you watch Buck the whole scene once Eddie arrives he's almost exclusively watching Eddie.

(watching Eddie walk away)

Here's the difference btw in one of the few times he looks at tommy (when Tommy speaks) after Eddie show up 👇

Then at the end you have Buck make this face:

Which I think isn't so much about feeling left out as it is seeing how happy Eddie is and knowing he's not the one making him happy. Although I don't think Buck is consciously processing all of that right now but I definitely think that was a big part of it.

I think in this whole scene what's going on in Buck's head is this: 1. surprise that Eddie is there because he didn't expect him 2. Why didn't Eddie tell me he was hanging out with Tommy (I usually know everything going on with Eddie). 3. Trying to understand what he's feeling when he sees Eddie and Tommy together. 4. Feeling confused about everything. 5. Jealous that Eddie is going off with someone who isn't him but not really understanding that's what it is.

I get some people might watch that scene and say well Buck was essentially asking Tommy out on a date and then Eddie showed up an took off with him so he must be jealous that Eddie is getting to spend time with Tommy. Buck obviously has an attraction to Tommy but the person he really wants and wants to spend time with is Eddie this is further highlighted by the next scene we see them in when Buck keeps getting more and more upset over hearing about how Eddie is doing things he enjoys with someone who isn't Buck. But also in how Buck acted while at the at the hanger. He wasn't focused on Tommy. I mean have you ever been crushing on someone when they're in the room it's like no one else is. The person who Buck couldn't take his eyes off of was Eddie.

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Next we have the sewer rescue scene with Ravi. (We really need more Ravi and Buddie scenes btw I love them together) We have Buddie working together as per usual. Highlighting like in the Bachelor scene how well they work together which they always do.

You have Buck telling the story from the pilot about when he saved that baby in the wall and Eddie smiling fondly like a typical spouse who has heard that story a million times.

While they're working Buck is spending the whole call trying to find out what Eddie was up to when he went to Vegas.

Buck is asking a million questions which implies that Eddie hasn't told him yet about the trip. This goes back to the helicopter scene where Buck didn't know Eddie was spending time with Tommy and is really starting to feel left out. Again this isn't really about Tommy or Buck feeling like he's missing out on spending time with Tommy it's Buck feeling like he's missing out on Eddie's life.

Buck calls out the similarities between Eddie and Tommy

Although he's still clueless that this is what is primarily causing him to be drawn to Tommy. More than anything this was for the audience to again say in case you didn't catch it by now Tommy is like Eddie. They want to keep reminding us of this before the kiss so we know Buck is going to date someone who is like his best friend.

Also want to point out that while Buck is talking about Tommy to Eddie the camera shakes at points so we feel Buck's nerves. He's nervous to hear what Eddie has to say about Tommy.

Also the whole conversation about "naked men pummeling each other" and Eddie saying that he was wrestling with Tommy. Like I'm sorry but not one ounce of that convo felt heterosexual.

I've seen someone say that Buck's jealousy must have been about Tommy because Buck isn't even interested in the things Eddie and Tommy were doing together like Muay Thai and basketball etc but you can hear/see Buck getting more and more hurt as he and Eddie talk because Eddie is sharing parts of himself with someone else.

I feel like there's multiple reasons why Eddie and Buck haven't been spending as much time together. I mean yeah Eddie made a new friend but for the longest time it's been BuckandEddie like peas in a pod in work and outside. But I think the end of season six played a role in some of that changing

At the end of last season they were both dating someone else and they had both gone through some major trauma with Buck literally dying for 3+ minutes. We know that seriously affected Buck but the show didn't touch on how I know it must have affected Eddie. If you watch the scene (from 7x01) where Buck talks to Chris and we see Eddie's reaction in the hall when Chris talks about how everyone leaves. I can't help but think Buck's brush with death made Eddie think of Shannon and how scared he is to lose another person he loves or worse put Chris through that.

Not to mention what Buck said in the cemetery how he felt like Natalia this woman he had known for less than a minute saw him better than anyone. I feel like all of that combined made Eddie distance himself a little even if he wasn't doing it totally consciously.

There's also the fact that I think Buck has kind of taken Eddie for granted a little. We find out later in the ep that Eddie had asked Buck to play basketball with him many times but he'd always turned him down. I also got the impression in this ep that Eddie has all these hobbies that he was sharing with Tommy when he would have rather been doing them with Buck (he was so excited when Buck showed up on the basketball court).

And I'm not saying Buck doesn't love Eddie or hasn't tried hard to be there for Eddie and Chris over the years but it's something that happens in relationships sometimes. You think the person is always going to be there and you get distracted with life stuff.

This combined with things Oliver has been saying in interviews about how Buck is going to have to put in work for his next relationship. How Buck has always gotten whatever person he wanted mostly and I can't help but wonder if that's going to play a role in how Buddie is developed. Is Buck going to have to prove to Eddie how much he means to him?

This part of the scene if no other really lets you know it's about Eddie and not Tommy. We can see how Buck is looking at Eddie when he says I do I really do and we feel all these intense emotions from him more than would make sense for the brief amount of time he's known Tommy. He's clearly thinking of when he met Eddie.

These are really just the baby steps of Buck recognizing how deeply he feels for Eddie. Because right here he's thinking that he thought their connection and place in each other's lives was special and unique to every one else they knew but then he hears Eddie talk like that and thinks maybe he was the only one who felt that way. Maybe he's easily replaced in Eddie's life.

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So Buck goes to talk about his feelings on everything with Maddie. Tbh I wasn't thrilled with how they did the Buck and Maddie scenes in this ep. Though I do think we're going to get more of a heart to heart with the two of them in future eps when Buck officially comes out. I just feel like Buck needed someone to really listen to him and Maddie was a little dismissive both times he talked to her. I also really want someone to try to ask Buck about his feelings for Eddie.

It's kind of crazy to me how no one in the 118 has ever really brought up the fact of how close Buck and Eddie are. Maddie has said the whole "boy crush" thing and that elf mistook them for being married but what I mean is you know the 118 sees how they are. Look at when Eddie was shot. It was assumed automatically that Buck was going to be the one to talk to Chris because they knew how close Buck and Eddie are and how they're essentially raising Chris together. This is how people talk about someone's spouse not just their friend.

Back to the convo with Maddie

Buck is complaining to Maddie about Eddie and Tommy. His feelings in that scene don't come across like he's unaware of some attraction he has to Tommy or like he's trying to hide feelings for him. He comes across as hurt, and frustrated, and confused that this new person has moved in on his place in Eddie and Chris' life.

Again I'm not saying Buck doesn't have an attraction to Tommy but I do think Tommy is a distraction more than anything. I think Buck is focusing on him rather than looking at the entire situation. Instead of asking himself why does it matter if your friend has a new friend? Why does it matter if Eddie spends time with new people? Why does it matter if Eddie shares parts of himself with someone else parts he might not be sharing with you?

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Then of course there's the gym scene at the firehouse. I've seen people say Buck thought Eddie was on the phone with Tommy. And maybe he did. But you expect me to believe he was upset and jealous over Tommy and because Eddie was getting to talk to him and his way of dealing with that was to try and get Eddie's attention through lifting weights and pointing his dick at him. o_o

Literally sitting up in the middle of lifting weights so he can see if Eddie is looking over at him.

Nothing about this scene is telling the audience that Buck is thinking about Tommy. It's saying he wants Eddie's attention.

This scene is actually very similar to what happened at the hanger

Buck saw Eddie looking incredibly happy and he wasn't the one making him happy. Eddie also wasn't sharing what's been going on in his life with Buck. Buck felt shut out and ignored from the one person who he's been the closet with for years. Even when they've had girlfriends it's clear Buck and Eddie have been close and connected in ways they never were with anyone else. Buck is scared he's losing that.

If the show wanted us to believe that the scene was about Buck and Tommy and Buck's growing attraction to Tommy there are so many different things they could have done to highlight that. Have Tommy ask Eddie about Buck (if that even was who Eddie was talking to) and have Eddie tell Buck he was talking to Tommy maybe direct a question from Tommy to Buck. They also at the least could have said that's who Eddie was talking to and they didn't even do that. They could have had Buck ask Eddie hey is that Tommy? But they didn't because the scene wasn't really about Tommy it's about Buck's feelings for Eddie that he still hasn't fully come to terms with yet.

Buck buys a basketball literally has it sent to the firehouse so Eddie can see him with it and hopefully ask him to go play basketball with him. Because remember he's feeling left out of Eddie's life. It's not like he asked Tommy to play basketball or asks Eddie if he can go with him to the court in hopes of seeing Tommy. No he wants Eddie to invite him. He wants to know Eddie wants him there.

Watch how Buck acts even when he's opening the basketball. He's trying to do it quickly and even while he's doing that he's looking over to Eddie to try and get his attention.

Also someone on twitter pointed out that in season 3 it was shown in Buck's loft that he already had a ball. My head canon is that he still has that ball and the lunatic that he is he just bought a whole new one and had it sent to the firehouse so eddie would see him with it. 🤦‍♀️

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Next is the infamous basketball court scene where I knew the minute I heard "basketball beard" and playing with the boys and other Top Gun references that canon bi Buck was a go.

Similar to the hanger scene Buck's attention is almost exclusively on Eddie through the whole scene.

Oh I'd also like to point out that both times that Eddie was with Tommy in this ep he was wearing sunglasses particularly when the two of them were side by side. I feel like it's the shows way of saying that Buck is not seeing Eddie right now and he's not connecting with his true feelings for Eddie.

I know Oliver is good at basketball but I couldn't help but laugh when they included that shot of him spinning the ball. Like we're meant to believe Buck doesn't play how did he learn to do that 🤦‍♀️

If the basketball scene had really been about Buck wanting Tommy's attention or being jealous that Eddie was getting Tommy's attention Buck wouldn't have been spending the entire time trying to get Eddie's attention. He also would have been competing with Eddie for Tommy's attention and he wasn't he was trying to get Eddie to notice him because he felt like all Eddie was doing was focusing on Tommy.

You can watch Buck get progressively more upset through the game as he feels like Eddie is competing against him and partnering with someone else when for so long that's been his role on and off the court. It's been Buddie against the world.

Also there's a moment when Buck runs into Tommy but the show never plays it as some kind of moment between the two. I mean they had more of a moment on the boat after the cruise ship when Buck patted Tommy's shoulder. But like according to some this is supposed to be the episode Buck is all into Tommy but that's just not present most of the episode.

Buck immediately knows he's fucked up after Eddie is hurt. I've seen people say why wasn't he running to help him but I've been in a similar situation like that where you're so stunned that you did something to cause someone you cared about to be hurt you can't even move.

Then as soon as Buck wants to try and help Tommy swoops in and says he'll take Eddie to the hospital. Taking care of Eddie has been Buck's job for a long long time. Think about how he saved Eddie during the shooting and took care of him and Chris. Also he took care of them during Eddie's mental health crisis. Buck is feeling like Eddie doesn't need him anymore.

Here's another thing I want to bring up about the basketball scene. Like I keep saying people have said that a lot of Buck's motivations in this ep were about Tommy. I'm sorry but you don't have those kind of strong emotions over someone you just met. Even if his emotions were that he had a crush on Tommy and felt like Eddie was taking all Tommy's time away. If Buck behaved that way from a simple crush on a guy he barely knew I would think he'd lost his mind. No he reacted the way he did because all of these feelings (that he's just now scratching the surface of dealing with) are connected to Eddie someone who means everything to him.

Remember too that Oliver said in his interviews that Buck doesn't even know why he's jealous or who or what it's about. Which is why I think even by the end of the episode when Buck thinks he's figured some things out there's still a lot he's missing.

----

The second Maddie scene

I definitely agree with what others have said that unfortunately Maddie's words here only served to further confuse Buck. What he was feeling was not just being left out and excluded from this friend but mostly jealous over a man he loves being all excited to spend so much time with someone else. Buck was jealous and scared of someone taking his place in Eddie's life and doesn't really know how to process that.

Oh and for people who say he wasn't jealous over Eddie he literally says he was to Maddie.

Buck admits he was trying to get Eddie's attention which like I said in the basketball scene you can see because Eddie is all Buck is focused on.

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Then of course we have the end scene with Buck and Tommy.

First we get the opening shot where Buck answers the door. And before he even answers we the audience are made to think it's going to be Eddie and made to think Buck also thinks it's going to be Eddie. Because all of the tension that's been between them in the ep hasn't been resolved and Buck hasn't talked about how he's been feeling to Eddie at all. So we're left waiting for that resolution.

Instead however when Buck opens the door it's Tommy

One thing I didn't mention earlier was that the show has made it a point to have Tommy only call Buck Evan. I've seen a number of theories people have for why this is, personally I think it's a reminder to the audience that Tommy for all his similarities isn't Eddie. Like they give us all these signs that say look Eddie and Tommy are so much the same but everytime you hear Tommy say Evan so casually like that you remember they're different.

Eddie who knows the real Buck only ever calls him that and it's only on the rare serious occasion does he use Buck's real name. Maddie is similar. It's like when Ana called Eddie Edmundo. These people have an idea of who Buck and Eddie are but they they don't know all the little intricate pieces that's something Buck and Eddie only have with one another.

So Buck is smiling and laughing (somewhat out of embarrassment for how he behaved on the basketball court) but watch his body language at even the mention of someone replacing him in Eddie's life:

I find it extremely foreshadowing of what's to come with Buddie that the show chose to have Tommy and Buck spend most of the time before their first kiss even right down to the seconds before it talking about Eddie and even talked about him afterwards. I mean if you didn't want your audience shipping a ship or giving them hope it was going to happen would you do that?

Buck not only talks about Eddie before the kiss he talks about how great he is and brings up memories of their past. Almost like someone talking about an ex they're still in love with. Like you're trying to move on but you can't help what your heart wants.

Like I said above I fully believe that when Tommy said "my attention" he knew that Buck is all about Eddie. Buck's response being "I guess" is even more telling because it shows his confusion. I definitely think that when Buck and Tommy break up (or however far they get in their dating) that we'll get some kind of confirmation that Tommy always knew Buck and Eddie were in love.

I think a lot of the stuff Buck talks about in this scene is him trying in the moment to make sense of the confusing way he's been feeling. I do think he's attracted to and likes Tommy but there is also a whole host of other feelings he has that really were the main motivating factors into why he acted the way he did in this episode.

The last time Buck was with someone and there was an I love you it was with Taylor and it was like Buck just went along in that relationship because he felt like he was supposed to. Buck and Eddie are similar in that way. They have this amazing love and bond with one another but there's a reason besides the fact that they're both guys that they keep avoiding really confronting their feelings. They're scared. They're scared to loose what they have. They're scared to change it. They're scared of fucking it up like they believe they have their past relationships. Scared of so many things. So they just kind of side step it at every turn.

The show mentioning Eddie right before the scene ends is one of the biggest indicators that this is all leading to Buddie.

If the episode was really just a misdirect where Buck was really into Tommy all along they wouldn't have made the last scene so Eddie heavy and especially not the last bit of dialogue about Eddie. The last few lines are what you're leaving the audience with until the next episode and the words they left us with are about Eddie (and Buck) so we're meant to focus on them.

If you read all this thank you ❤️. This post took me forever (which would be why it's getting posted a full week after the ep >_< ) please reblog if you like it. Can't wait for the ep tonight.

#buddie #911 meta #911 7x04 #911!#long post #911 s7 #buddie s7 #b*ck t*mmy for bl

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restless-soulz · 12 days ago

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HOW THE HOUSEWARDENS ACT W/ A BABY (not their own, they're all still underage)

RIDDLE:

-man this guy is so bad with babies, but damn it if he isn't efficient

-he'll make sure that the physical needs are taken care of, but that's not entirely what a baby needs.

-but a baby can't tell you what exactly it needs so it'll just be stressful for both of them until he figures it out

-it might be a while

-doesn't do super well with physical affection (giving)

-he probably won't burn down the house to make a bottle for the baby but he will stress about the temperature and it'll go cold before he's satisfied and it'll repeat the process ad infinitum

LEONA:

-pls the baby he knew was cheka, and he was easy he's got this (NOT)

-lion man just wants to sleep and does not appreciate being woken up for feedings or changings or anything else

-doesn't care about bottle temp, milk is milk

-won't show but is a little stressed about having claws vs incredibly fragile baby skin

-genuinely confused to as why not all babies are not like Cheka

-after a while he'll get down the baby language and be so fast at it, just to maximize his sleep

-hey if it works it works

AZUL:

-another one not really fit for children

-would try to foist off the child to the leeches, and then realize that unfortunately he is the much better option (because morays eat their young)

-he will do his best tho and he will do an almost perfect job

-he just...overestimates human baby milestones

-it's ok, it can go one of two ways. either the parent is delighted by fast progress or Azul feels embarrassed

-like riddle, doesn't super love the whole physical contact thing

-also secretly i'd think he'd be great to talk to for anything involved in being recognized outside of your children or a body dysmorphia kind of depression cause same

KALIM:

-mans has 40 siblings or something

-i trust him, but he can be a little...cloud heavy

-he will make sure that baby is cuddled, and fed, and played, but sleeping is not his thing. adorable, but babies are AWAKE around him

-plus he's had servants that take care of the gross parts so he's clueless about how messy babies usually are

-jamil would lose his mind having two people to take care of, one infinitely more dependent than the other

-as much as i love him, don't give him a baby

VIL:

-he wouldn't try very hard

-babies are hard and he's not planning to babysit very long, he has more important things to do, but in the meantime

-this baby will be TAKEN CARE OF

-he bought a lot of...well...everything and all the excess goes to the parents.

-the cutest outfits you've ever seen

-detests changing and other gross parts but will do it

-does not like the not sleeping part, but he will admit they are very cute

IDIA:

-you're playing with fire here

-the only baby he's ever been around was Ortho, and that...ended terribly

-panicking every single second, and rapidly googling every time the baby breathes a little weird

-builds an automated bottle warmer and baby rockers so he has minimal contact with the baby as possible

-until Ortho says that skin to skin or physical contact is best for optimal health

-he'll whine and cry but do it, for a super short amount of time

-made an automatic changing station so he never does the gross parts

MALLEUS:

-adores children. they do not adore him.

-he can scare them a bit being all dark colors and rbf

-but he does theoretically know how to take care of a human baby

-i don't think silver should count since he's more of a changling

-will not put the baby down unless absolutely necessary (my kind of guy)

-the baby lives in a singular too big shirt or the most regal ensemble you've ever seen. no in between

-doesn't bother with changing since he can just magic it away

-also buys everything for the baby and keeps half for when he hopes to be asked to babysit again

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heroes-among-us-all · 1 year ago

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How would Izuku, Katsuki, and Shouto react to walking in on their girlfriend for the first time while she's changing?

Izuku:

Poor baby will be mortified, and there's no doubt this moment will live on in his mind rent-free.

You've forgotten to lock the door, so when he walks into the room, he finds himself looking at you while you are very much exposed.

He pretty much faints for a split-second, and when he finally blinks to make sense of the situation, his freckled cheeks turn the deepest shade of red you've ever seen.

"I-I-I'm so sorry!" he exclaims, immediately covering his eyes with his hands. "I didn't know that you were... it-it was an accident! I'm so sorry!"

He's just about as panicked as you might expect, and even though this isn't exactly how you wanted him to see you half-naked for the first time, his innocent reaction is adorable in its own right.

"It's okay, Izuku," you reassure. "I'm not mad. I know it wasn't on purpose. I probably should've remembered to lock the door. It's my bad."

His eyes are still covered, so when he tries to walk out of the room, he ends up smacking his face into the door a few times. You feel bad for thinking it, but it's kind of hilarious.

Still, you know that your boyfriend is a flustered little cinnamon roll, and it's one of the things you love most about him. It'll take him a long time to calm down though, that much is for sure.

Once your relationship progresses a bit more, you'll be happy to show him a more intimate side of yourself. But for the time being, you should take things slow and not surprise him anymore, otherwise he'll probably have a heart attack.

Shouto:

At first, you don't even know he's walked in on you changing, because he's completely silent. It's only when you turn and catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of your eye that you gasp and hurry to cover yourself up.

Shouto just stands there, refusing to blink. His expression is usually so stoic, so it's hard to tell the difference, but there's no doubt that his face is red, his eyes are wider than usual, and his lips are parted in awe.

"Um," you say, doing your best to cover up your exposed parts with your hands, but it's not an easy feat. "Shouto. You know you can look away, right?"

He finally blinks. "Oh. Right. I should... probably do that."

Even then, it still takes him a while to turn around. You're not sure if it's the shock of it all, or if he's trying to prolong the moment for as much as possible. You're definitely embarrassed, but you'd be flattered if that was the case.

"I'm sorry," Shouto says, standing with his back facing you. You can see that the tips of his ears have turned red. "I should have knocked before coming in."

"No, I could've locked the door. It's okay. This is no big deal," you reassure.

"It's a big deal for me," you hear him mutter under his breath. He opens the door and walks out, but right before he closes it in his stead, you catch him not-so-subtly stealing one last peek.

Even if he's respectful enough not to bring this moment up, you get the feeling that he'll be thinking about it for a long time.

Katsuki:

He's hardly the type to check before barging into a room, so he just blows right past the door and says, "Hey, [Name]! Where'd you hide my damn chili powder? I told you to stop-"

He isn't able to finish his sentence, because there you are, with your most delicate parts exposed.

Katsuki stiffens up, and he immediately barks out, "What the hell? Why didn't you lock the damn door?!"

He's as loud as ever, but that's mostly because he's trying to downplay his embarrassment by yelling. The fact that his face is bright red - basically as red as his eyes - tells you everything you need to know.

"I don't remember where I hid the chili powder," you admit, using your hands to cover yourself up.

Katsuki's face turns even redder. "As if I could care less about that right now! God... j-just let me know when you're done changing. We can talk later."

He likes to act macho and like nothing could ever faze him, but the sight of his girlfriend half-naked wasn't something he was prepared for this early on in the relationship. In fact, he even fumbles with the door handle as he tries to close it behind him.

"Shit!" you hear him curse out, and you can't help but laugh, even as embarrassed as you are.

As you finish changing, Katsuki stomps through the house in a hopeless attempt to try and calm down. At least you have something to tease him over for the next little while.

#boku no hero academia #mha imagines #bnha imagines #bnha headcanons #mha headcanons #bakugou katsuki #todoroki shouto #midoriya izuku #bakugou x reader #bnha #mha #fluff #midoriya x reader #todoroki x reader #my hero academia

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panda-noosh · 1 year ago

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authors note: oh hey. enjoy!

ask me about commissions!

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this is Daryl's fault.

all Daryl's fault, as most things tend to be nowadays.

this isn't the first time you've been held captive in the three years since you joined Rick's group. in fact, you get captured at least once every fortnight, but you always took it as a sign you were doing your job right; hunters cannot be hunters without a brief spell of missteps, and getting caught by the enemy is usually high on the list of scenarios that could take place. by now, you are used to it.

but this is different, because it's Daryl's fault, and that makes it ten times worse.

the rope holding your wrists together is painful, skin already red raw despite the fact you've only been tied up for an hour. Daryl tells you it will hurt less if you stopped trying to maneaveur your wrists enough to flip him off, but that doesn't stop you from continuing your attempts.

the walls are oozing condensation. it drips onto your head, slides down your nose, gets in your eyes, and it smells like damp. mould grows in the cracks in the floor. mice dart in front of you, as if boasting the fact they are free to roam and you aren't.

the worst part is, your knives are nowhere to be seen.

"i didn't even see them take them off me!" you exclaim. beside you, Daryl has barely moved. his hands and feet are tied in the same way yours are, but he's putting up no fight to get free, or even loosen them. he keeps his head down, shoulders sagging, shifting every now and then with his ragged breaths. you can't make out his expression due to the curtain of dirty brown hair shielding his face, but you would like to think his expression is one of pure guilt and sorrow for being the idiot who got you both captured in the first place.

"oi," you hiss. "a little communication would go a long way right now."

"what do you want me to say?" he bites; anyone else would back away from that tone, but you're not anyone else. you're the person put on this earth to be a pain in Daryl Dixon's ass, and that's exactly what you plan to be.

"i want a plan," you reply. "the others are expecting us back before nightfall."

"we're not getting back before nightfall."

"not with that attitude." you sigh, doing yet another pointless scan of the room - well, dungeon more like, considering the amount of rock and concrete there is. "how long has it been since they left? do you think they'll feed us?"

"we're not dogs, y/n," he grumbles. "we're hostages. chances are, next time we see them, it'll be so they can slit our throats."

"i didn't really get that vibe off them, to be honest. i know we're tied up and everything, but i think we can negotiate."

finally Daryl looks up, bloodshot eyes bored. "don't even try. things always go tits up the minute you open your mouth."

your jaw drops open. "are you serious? how can you say that when you're the one who got us into this situation in the first place?"

Daryl rolls his eyes, looking away. "i never asked you to come with me."

"yeah, well, someone has to keep you from killing yourself."

"you can keep me from killing myself, but not getting kidnapped?"

"i'm not a miracle worker."

Daryl scowls. you scowl back, even though he's not looking at you. it would be so easy some days to just punch him square in the face, but you've never let yourself get that far. at the end of the day, and as tough as it is to admit it, Daryl is the only one in the group you can properly talk to, whether he likes it or not. everyone else is too. . . flowery, too keen on sparing your feelings. they know what you've been through, and that effects everything they do when in your presence.

Daryl isn't like that, and for some reason, it feels safer to be with someone who tells you the truth, and nothing but the truth. sometimes, it feels safer to be with someone who hates your guts.

still, that doesn't mean he doesn't drive you completely mad. the way he chokes up in stressful situations, offering no help or communication - this is a life or death situation, and yet he still insists on kneeling there with his thumb up his ass. you could scream. in fact, you're so mad at his silence that you're being driven into your own silence, unable to come up with a plan when you're so angry at the idiot beside you.

he's a domino effect. a bad one. a domino avalanche.

you sigh heavily, closing your eyes, tilting your head against the concrete wall behind you. Daryl glances over, but neither of you get a chance to continue arguing - as much as you'd love to - before the rickety wooden door on the other side of the room creaks open. light spills in, blinding you, but you don't let your discomfort show. instead, you stare right into it, waiting for the face of your captor to appear, because you don't remember it all too well. they were wearing balaclavas for one, the smart bastards, but you can imagine they're young with the shabby way they've tied you up, and the complete whim of which they decided to-

"what the fuck."

two people come into view once the door is closed. their faces are lit only by the flashlights they carry, but the puny yellow light is enough to show the wrinkles indented in their leathery skin. the flashlights shake from elderly trembles, held by veiny, pockmarked hands damaged from years - years - of hard labour never soothed by retirement.

you and Daryl share a look; something isn't right. these can't be the same people who managed to pin you to the ground and tie you up.

that would be too embarrassing to even fathom.

"are you awake?"

the voice is frail but commanding.

"yes," you reply, earning a glare from Daryl that you ignore. "quite hard to sleep on concrete."

the flashlight pivots in your direction. you wince.

"right, stop blinding me, would you?"

"what's your name?"

"who's asking?" Daryl grunts.

the stranger - the male - steps closer. "the people who have the power to kill you, or let you go. i suggest you cooperate."

you stare at Daryl, hoping to God he can feel what you're trying to say through gaze alone; he needs to work with these people. they didn't come in here guns blazing, which means there is room for release if they just cooperate, but that word has never been something Daryl fully understands. right now, you need him to understand. right now, you need him to use his brain, need him to-

he spits on the concrete, right at the mans feet.

you close your eyes, resisting the urge to start cursing.

"go to hell," he growls.

the man steps back and wraps an arm around the female's waist. she curls into him, shooting daggers at Daryl as she places one hand on her husband's chest, as if protecting him from Daryl's lack of manners. you really can’t say you blame her.

“there’s no need for the hostility,” the man says. “we did what we had to do; you can’t trust anyone nowadays.”

“the wise thing would have been to leave us. kill us, even.”

“he doesn’t mean that,” you hasten to add.

daryl shoots you a glare before continuing. “instead you tie us up and bring us to your base. what good is that going to do?”

“it keeps us in control,” the female replies. “just because we want the upper hand, doesn’t mean we want you dead.”

daryl scoffs. “biggest load of horseshit i’ve ever heard.”

“do you want us to kill you? because, young man, that can easily be arranged,” the man growls.

your heart jumps in your chest; this isn’t going as smoothly as it could be going, all because daryl can’t keep his mouth shut. he’s the quietest guy in the group when he shouldn’t be, and the biggest loud mouth when he should.

your brain work at a mile a minute as daryl and the elderly couple have a stare down. it’s your first instinct to scan the room for any weaponry, but then you imagine yourself actually slaughtering this elderly couple, and your stomach twists; there has to be another way, some kind of reasoning you can find, even ground you can all agree-

your eyes land on the wedding bands on the couple’s fingers.

you don’t even fully process the next words out of your mouth, just dive head first into the ridiculous idea that has suddenly sprung to your mind. “look, i’m so sorry about my husband. he gets grumpy when he’s tired.”

daryl’s head snaps around, mouth open,ready for a retort, but you’ve stated digging the hole, and you’ll be damned if you let him ruin it now.

��i’m sure you understand, being a married couple and everything.” you laugh nervously. “we were actually just talking before you came down - we think i’s so admirable that you two have grown old together. it’s the kind of marriage we want. of course, the cards we’ve been dealt make that a little more difficult, but hope prevails.” you look at daryl and smile. “hope prevails. isn’t that what you said, dear?”

daryl only stares.

the elderly couple share a glance. if you’re not mistaken, they look almost sympathetic, and when they look back at you and daryl, their expressions have changed entirely, watered down to something you can certainly work with.

“i’m sorry,” you chuckle, waving a dismissive hand. “i always get carried away when it comes to taking about him. we’re newly weds, you see - got married just a few weeks before the news broke about. . . well, everything.”

“oh, goodness,” the female gasps, wrinkled hand covering her mouth. “you poor souls. did you at least get to have your wedding?”

“a tiny one,” you reply. “people were isolating, you see. my own mother, god rest her soul - she never made it. we had to put her down the day after.”

the woman shakes her head like this is the worst story she’s ever heard come out of the apocalypse. you glance at daryl, urging him with your eyes to play along, though you have very little hope you’ll ever get him to tart spewing bullshit marriage stories. the least he can do is stay quiet - that’s all your asking.

“we’re married, though, and we’re together,” you continue. “that’s what we’re focusing on.”

“yes, of course,” the man says. “do you . . . do you have a home to go back to?”

“a group, actually,” you reply. “we have a few young’un’s waiting for us. don’t tell anyone, but i think of them as our children now. they’re probably worried sick.”

the couple share yet another glance, and you know you’ve got them. when it comes to old married couples, the idea of a young couple mirroring their experience with marriage is always an easy fix; if you want anything, just tell them it’s because you want to end up like them, old and in love. they fall for it every time.

the woman inhales shakily, letting her hand drop to her side before she pulls a knife from a tiny sheath in her leggings; you almost whistle appreciatively at the blade, how shiny and well-kept it is, nothing like your own which have grown almost completely dull with age and overuse, and very little care on your part.

she walks over and slices the ropes from daryl’s hands, and then she steps back and waits. you blink at the scene, waiting patiently for her to make her way over to you to do the same, but she doesn’t. she just stares at daryl, lips pursed.

she’s waiting for him to make a big scene about being released.

what would a young, married man do in this situation? probably rush to his significant others side, smother them with kisses, ask them if they’re okay. daryl just rubs the raw skin on his wrists, cursing quietly under his breath, seeming almost oblivious to the audience watching him.

panic grips your chest. you have to do something before they realise something isn’t right.

“baby, you’re free!” you exclaim.

daryl’s head whips around. “huh?”

“you’re free!” you repeat. “come here, let me make sure you’re alright.”

daryl raises a brow, but he’s at least got the common sense not to say anything in the presence of your captors. slowly, he crawls over and kneels in front of you, confusion still etched on his expression. you rake your eyes over him dramatically, feigning worry; in truth, he looks to be in better form than you are, his wrists not even raw from the ropes.

“what are you-“ he begins.

“you’re okay!” you throw yourself forward, letting him catch you, and then you do the extreme part of the plan. without warning, you press your lips to his. he grunts against your mouth, eyes widening, fingers curling around your biceps, but he doesn’t pull away, and you almost sob in relief. you were fully expecting him to shove you to the floor, probably fight his way out of this dungeon and leave you for dead. instead, he goes still against you, but his lips don’t leave your own. you’re almost tempted to push your luck and stick your tongue in his mouth just to piss him off, but there’s a time and place for things like that, and it certainly isn’t here and now.

you keep the kiss short and sweet, pulling away with a smile you hope is convincing. the elderly couple are looking at you like you’ve hung the moon and the stars in the sky; apparently the kiss was all they needed, as the man walks over and finally cuts the ropes binding your wrists. the cold air against the raw skin makes you hiss in pain, but you don’t let it take you from the character you have suddenly developed. as soon as you’re free, you throw your arms around daryl’s neck and drag him in to a hug. his hands hover at the small of your back.

you turn your head and whisper in his ear, “play along, you son of a bitch. i’m trying to get us out of here alive.”

he drops his hands, wrapping you in his arms. a warmth spreads through you, an odd sense of relief tat you don’t want to acknowledge when you’re in this position with daryl dixon.

“you two get home safe,” the man says, his voice being the only thing to remind you and daryl that you can actually let go of each other now. “tell your folks we’re sorry. we didn’t mean no harm.”

you pull away from daryl. he keeps his arm around your waist, tugging you into his side like the old little actor you never knew he could be. “thank you. honestly. we appreciate this.”

daryl gives a nod, which is probably all you should expect from him.

and with a final goodbye to your captors, you walk up the stairs and into the night.

——

daryl doesn’t speak the whole way back to camp. you didn’t really expect him to.

nonetheless, you still try. you would hate to go back to camp with all this tense energy between you, a direct result of daryl’s inability to communicate like a regular human being.

he barrels ahead of you, letting all the branches swing back in your face. usually you would tell him to fuck off and stop being a child, but it’s obvious what happened has shocked him, and the last thing you want to do is make it worse.

maybe you shouldn’t have kissed him. maybe you shouldn’t have let things get that far. hell, you probably could have worked out some way to get free without telling lies, but in the heat of the moment, it was the only thing you could come up with.

it worked, didn’t it?

“daryl!” you holler after him. “daryl, come on. slow down.”

“keep up,” he shoots back.

“are you mad at me?”

he tugs on the ropes holding the prison gates together; in the distance, glenn stands atop one of the watchtowers, watching you like a hawk.

you grip daryl’s arm. “are you mad?”

he pulls away and glare before finally getting the gate open; he doesn’t give you a reply, instead storming off without another word, which you suppose is answer enough.

you follow him into camp, eyes cast to the floor in any attempt to hide your emotions from anyone you might come across; it doesn’t matter that you’ve been gone for hours - you don’t want to explain why daryl has marched off in a huff, because that will be the first thing they ask you. always you, like you’re tied to the man in some way.

you make your way to the canteen without seeing anyone. you slump in one of the metal chairs and finally take time to rub at the raw skin of your wrist; it burns, but the sting is familiar at this point. you could easily go another few days before having it looked at, but of course hershel has other plans.

“you’re like a bloodhound,” you say, sensing his presence in the doorway.

the click of his cane echoes. “what happened?”

“what always happens - we got in shit, got out of shit. now we’re here.”

“now you’re here.” hershel kneels in front of you, taking your wrist for examination. “where’s your other half got to?”

you wince. “don’t call him that. he’s nothing of the sort; especially not right now.”

hershel raises a brow. “no?”

you sigh, looking at the ceiling; hershel is one of those men you are able to trust with anything, the grandfather of the group after dale died. you have told him secrets, confided in him with embarrassing questions, but he has never judged you. in fact, nine times out of ten, he knows what you’re going to say before you’ve even said it. still, he expects you to make an effort, which is why he doesn’t fill in the blanks, just inspects your wrist whilst waiting for you to speak.

“it’s complicated.” your go-to statement when it comes to daryl. “we ran into some people, and we had to. . . play pretend, and i don’t think daryl appreciated it very much.” you wince, cheeks burning. “did i violate the poor guy?”

“i’ll need more details before i can answer that.”

you hesitate. “we kissed.” hershel’s head snaps up, but you’re quick to clarify. “we had to kiss. the only way we were going to get free was by pretending we’re a married couple.”

hershel blinks. “i’ve. . . never heard of that tactic before.”

“either have i, but it worked like a fucking charm.” you sigh. “only problem is-“

“daryl’s huffing.”

“yep.”

hershel shakes his head, muttering almost to himself. “i don’t understand that man. he makes absolutely no sense.”

“he has every right to be mad,” you say. “it took him off guard, and we all know daryl doesn’t like surprises.”

“yes, but. . .” hershel shakes his head, taking your wrist again. “never mind. i’ll have a chat with him; i want to check him over anyway.”

——

the days pass, and daryl continues ignoring you.

you’re very good at pretending this doesn’t bother you; the group are absolutely none the wiser, not mentioning daryl to you once. however, you refuse to be in denial - you have greatly pissed daryl off, and you don’t like it.

your hunting trips aren’t the same without him. they’re lonely, and boring, and too quiet; you never realised how often you turned to him when it was just you in the woods, and no one else, how often you leaned on him to take your mind off everything going wrong in the world. without him, these hunting trips are almost scary.

of course, it would be easy for you to approach him, just ask if he wanted to hunt, but you can’t throw your pride away like that.

so you spend the next few days trying to distract yourself from his ever-looming presence. he stands in the corner of the room during group meetings, arms folded, avoiding your gaze. the fact he finds it so easy to completely block you out is a punch to the gut, but you refuse to let it get to you.

you will not be the first one to break.

two weeks pass with no disturbances at the prison. days actually start to grow boring, a repetitive cycle of prison upkeep and hunting that drives you insane. you tell carl this as the two of you sit on the floor of the courtyard, watching the small pile of walkers cling to the gates; you and rick fixed them up yesterday, so you’re in no rush to get up.

carl scoffs at your complaint. “have we not earned a little boredom?”

“yes,” you grumble. “i knew you were going to say that. make me feel all bad and stuff.”

“I’m not trying to make you feel bad.” he shrugs. “i’m enjoying the boredom.”

“not like you.”

“keeps dad calm. can’t ask for much more than that.”

you nod. “fair enough, i suppose. fair-“

carl suddenly lurches forward, eyes narrowed. immediately your knife is in your hand and you're joining him, one hand on his shoulder, the other curled around the hilt of your knife.

you don't need to ask him what he's looking at, because you see it instantly, the one breathing being amongst the dozens of corpses clawing at the gate.

"fuck," says carl.

"watch your mouth." and then you're both on your feet, sprinting for the gates. you catch glenn's attention up in the watch tower and wave your hand above your head, signalling for him to get the others. your heart pounds with an adrenaline you haven't felt in days, you're dizzy with it, on the verge of-

you nearly trip over your own feet when you finally get a glimpse of who the person is.

the same woman who watched you kiss daryl. the same woman who took you captive and forced you into this situation.

the same woman who let you go when she could have easily slit your throat.

"carl, wait!" you grab his arm and yank him back. "i know her."

carl doesn't lower his gun, merely glances up at you with a raised brow.

you step forward, pushing him behind you. the woman meets your eyes and continues to yell, slamming her hands desperately against the wire fence; a few walkers have already noticed her, slowly peeling away from their group and making their way towards her. by the looks of things, she doesn't even have a weapon; she's come here out of pure desperation.

"what's going on?" rick hollers, sprinting down the hill with most of the group close behind. "y/n?"

"open the gates!"

"what-"

"open the gates!" you demand, before thrusting your knife through the fence and into a walkers brain.

you ignore the confusion happening behind you and just hope they're following your orders. you continue to stab and yell, drawing the dead away from the terrified woman and towards you.

it doesn't take long for daryl to join you, though you aren't sure who he's doing it for. even though this woman showed you kindness, she is still the one who kidnapped you in the first place; you aren't sure if daryl would appreciate her presence near him again. and yet he takes the walkers down without hesitation, even helping glenn and rick rip the gate open, allowing the old woman in.

she's disgruntled to say the least, gasping and stumbling. she collapses at your feet, and that's where she breaks down completely. tears streak the mud caking her face, dripping into a mouth held open in absolute horror. her grey hair is matted with blood, and her husband is nowhere to be seen.

you glance at daryl, and for the first time in days, he looks back.

"someone grab her," rick orders.

"no," you bark, pushing maggie back. "can't you see she's distraught?"

"that doesn't matter," rick fires back. "we don't know who she is, how she found-

"y/n said no."

all heads turn to daryl. he meets everyone's gaze, letting them know he is not one bit intimidated before looking back at the woman. too caught up in daryl's overall presence, you hadn't even noticed the woman go silent, flicking her gaze between you and daryl like you're some kind of spectacle.

you kneel next to her. "hello again."

----

you and daryl decide to talk to her together. nobody else allowed in the room.

he's nervous, or furious - you don't really know which one. he paces back and forth, crossbow not leaving his hands once; rosalie stares with wide eyes, glancing at you like she expects you to do something about it.

you have a sip of your water. "you can ignore him if you want. he never really adds anything to the conversation anyway."

daryl whirls. "you know, your little jokes really aren't handy in situations like this."

"good thing i don't give a fuck-"

"no, of course not. everything's just a big game to you."

"why are you yelling? you think that's going to-"

"please."

rosalie's voice is barely a whisper, but you hear it nonetheless. she sounds so fragile, so broken - so much so that you actually feel guilty for being so hostile in front of her. you have been in this interrogation room for nearly twenty minutes, doing nothing but bicker with daryl.

"please," she repeats, not looking up. "don't fight. we don't need any more of that in this world, especially between two people who love each other."

daryl stiffens, and you wince. that's right - she thinks you and daryl are married.

you fold your arms on the metal table. "rosalie. sorry. look, you have to understand why daryl and i have been sent to talk to you. this - you showing up out of nowhere. . . it looks a little weird. we just need some answers."

"why are you here?" daryl demands.

you shoot him a glare and repeat the question, softer this time. "why are you here, rosalie?"

she sniffs, wipes her nose on her blood stained sleeve. "our base got ambushed. patrick didn't make it; they got him while he was trying to protect me." she squeezes her eyes closed. "i ran out and just. . . kept running. your prison was the first place i came across that looked like it had any sign of life." she opens her eyes again. "i didn't know it was you two. i promise i didn't."

"bullshit," daryl scoffs. "it don't matter that you just kept running. this place is in the asshole of nowhere. you couldn't have found it unless you had us followed that day."

rosalie's eyes widen, darting to you for support you can't give her. despite daryl being a known drama queen, he also has a point right now. rosalie could have ran for days, but the chances of her finding the prison without forewarning of it's whereabouts are slim.

daryl stalks over, leaning close to rosalie's terrified face. "what do you want?"

she pulls back, and you don't miss her wince when she does. "i-i don't want anything you're not willing to give. i just needed a place to rest. i'm exhausted."

"you think we should give you anything after-"

"where are you hurt?"

daryl looks down at you, that familiar glint of frustration in his gaze. it's a look you've become accostomed to, so it's easily ignored, especially when you're focused on something else. you didn't notice it at first, but the wince rosalie makes every time she moves is becoming increasingly suspicious.

rosalie stares for another few seconds, as if waiting for you to retract your question. you lean forward, pushing your knife closer with your elbow.

"i've been nice to you," you say. "and i'll continue to be nice if you tell me where you're hurt. why you're hurt."

daryl stiffens. "a bite?"

you narrow your eyes. "i don't know."

rosalie shakes her head violently, fresh tears beginning to leak down her face again. "i'm not bitten! i swear i'm not bitten!"

you grab your knife. "show us."

immediately she scrambles to her feet and yanks up the hem of her pink jumper, revealing not a bite, but what looks like a nasty burn mark. still, you and daryl have been through this before, are both well aware that there's no such thing as being too cautious when it comes to injuries. it's an unspoken routine when daryl grabs rosalie's arms and tosses you the flashlight always strapped to his belt. you catch it with ease, shining it on the throbbing, wrinkled mess on rosalie's hip.

"well?" daryl grunts.

"looks like a burn." he drops her; she lands back in her chair with a clatter.

you glare at daryl.

he plucks his flashlight from your fingers. "now what? we keeping her here or not?"

"you're letting me decide?"

daryl shrugs, but you don't miss the tiny blush rising to his cheeks, one he tries to hide by going back to his pesky pacing.

you decide to leave the teasing till later, instead turning to rosalie. "hershel will want to check her over."

"why does hershel have to know? send her out on her ass without telling him, he's gonna be none the wiser."

you raise a brow. "you're not really that evil. the tough guy act doesn't work on me." and just to add salt to the wound, you add, "we're married, remember?"

daryl scowls, but that blush only gets more pronounced. you're finding this quite fun.

"okay," you say to rosalie. "we're gonna get our medic to look you over. that burn doesn't look too good. once he's said it's alright, the group should have some idea of what to do with you."

rosalie hollows out her cheeks, slumping back. "thank you." "don't thank us yet," daryl grumbles. "we aint decided yet."

----

daryl lets you in his cell that night.

it's the first time in a while he's let you follow him to bed, the first time in a while you've actually wanted to. after everything that happened when you were captured, it seems almost. . . inappropriate, even though these little sleepovers have never been anything more than a platonic comfort for you both, just having someone there to exist with.

daryl doesn't invite you in or anything, simply lets you hover in the doorway as he sits crosslegged on his bed, busy sharpening an arrow.

you fold your arms, watching him. it's always jarring to see him like this - sitting still, doing something slow paced. he's the type of man you expect to always be in motion, like he might cease to exist otherwise. when he's sitting still, you can admire everything about him, and there's nothing he can do about it.

"you didn't like it, did you?"

you say it because that's really the only thing you need to say, the only elephant in the room. judging by the way he freezes, it's obvious he knows it too.

"i thought it was our only chance of getting out of there." you shrug. "you know me and my stupid ideas. i should have asked you first."

"you admitting you were wrong?"

you hold your hands up. "just 'cause the word 'sorry' melts your brain, doesn't mean it melts mine."

he glares through the tops of his eyelids, making you grin.

you step into his cell. "i'm just messing. i really am sorry."

"stop apologising," he grumbles. "fuck, it worked, didn't it? we got out alive."

"alive and wed."

he scoffs, but it's close enough to a laugh that you make your way over to his bed and take a seat. he goes back to sharpening his arrows, and suddenly it's just like old times. it was only two weeks of his silent treatment, but you still missed the evenings spent just like this, watching him work, those calloused hands so skilled in anything he puts them to. you can imagine a ring on his knobbly finger, though you aren't sure why the image sends heat racing through you.

"have you ever been in a relationship before?"

the question takes you by surprise; it's not the kind of thing daryl would ever ask about, not a topic he particularly cares about. when you look at him, he keeps his head down, tongue gliding across his bottom lip.

you shift on the bed, bringing your feet under you. "not a serious one, no. i'm better on my own, i think."

"ain't that what they all say?"

"what about you? have you ever had that special person?"

he pauses a moment too long. your heart jumps, a flood of some dark, grim feeling filling your body before you can get a hold of it.

you clap a hand over your mouth, gasping dramatically. daryl groans, lifts his head to tell you to shut up, but you need to bury this burning jealousy somehow, and the only way you can come up with is by embarrassing the shit out of daryl.

"you have, haven't you?" you grab his arm. he lets out a hiss of pain, drawing his arm back to reveal a droplet of blood welling on his finger.

you flinch back. "shit, sorry!"

daryl glares, placing his finger between his lips, and holy god, why is the room getting so stuffy? why can't you stop staring at his lips? those same lips you kissed only two weeks ago, those lips you have tasted, those lips-

"i've never been in a relationship," he grumbles, snapping you out of your daze.

"i don't believe that," you scoff. "a fine, sociable man like yourself? surely the ladies were dropping at your feet."

daryl rolls his eyes. "funny."

"seriously though. never?"

"don't act so surprised. you haven't either."

"yeah but that's. . . different. i'm . . . me."

daryl freezes, eyes snapping up to meet yours. "what's that supposed to mean?"

"well, i'm not exactly the best person to-"

"shut up y/n. you're ridiculous."

your eyebrows rise. "woah, okay. fuck you, dixon."

he just shakes his head, going back to his arrow sharpening. this is what he does, one of the many things that infuriate you about him; he will say or do something entirely out of pocket, and then go silent when you confront him on it.

but it's been years, and you're used to it by now. taking a deep breath, you try steering the conversation someplace safer. "you know if rick decides to let rosalie stay, we'll have to pretend we love each other."

he flicks his eyes up. "why do we?"

"well, she thinks we're married."

"who gives a fuck what she thinks? she's our prisoner now."

you roll your eyes, exasperated. "don't call her a prisoner. we're not tyrants, daryl."

"everyone's a tyrant."

"she came to us." you sigh. "we could just stay away from each other if you think that's easier."

his reply is quick, almost panicked. "what good will that do? married couple it is."

just to really seal the deal, you shake hands. it goes quiet after that, neither of you knowing what to say or how to proceed. still, you don't leave his cell, enjoying his presence more than you would ever willingly admit. despite him being a complete pain in the ass, he's still your closest friend in this place, the guy who knows you better than anyone. the guy who somehow managed to break down every wall you've ever put up, all whilst keeping his perfectly in tact.

---

rosalie is released from the infirmary and put under watch, but she is still free to roam the halls of the prison. rick decided an injured, unarmed, grieving old lady isn't much of a threat in the grand scheme of things, and you weren't going to argue. you have no problems with rosalie besides the fact you have to get uncomfortably close to daryl when she's around.

again, this isn't something that ever bothered you; once upon a time, you and daryl would spend hours with each other, out in the woods hunting, or just sitting in each other's company. however, after your last little sleepover, being in daryl's presence has become a very confusing experience, one you don't have time to face head-on. all those weird, warm feelings you felt just don't make any sense.

nonetheless, you keep up the charade when rosalie's around, because it's easier that way. even daryl agrees, which is why he sits beside you now, an arm thrown loosely over your shoulder. you can hear glenn and carl snickering behind you, but rosalie is talking, so you can't do anything about it.

she's in the middle of a story about the travels her and patrick used to embark on, how they aren't even from atlanta, but got caught there after the first wave of walkers made an appearance.

she's explaining how they didn't fret, because at least they had each other, when she turns her attention to you and daryl and says, "i'm sure you two understand. this world could really do some damage if we didn't have people we love."

daryl's grip tightens, and you purse your lips. you can appreciate rosalie's optimism, but her naivety takes the forefront; how can she say such a thing to a group of people who have lost everything, have watched their loved ones get ripped to shreds one by one? it wasn't that long ago rick lost his wife, carl his mother, you a friend.

you sniff, grabbing daryl's hand to keep your angered trembles at bay. "very true, rosie, very true."

"such a good thing that daryl and y/n have each other," glenn chimes in, amusement dripping from every word. "not so lucky for us - they can be loud when their - uh - love takes over."

carl chokes in his attempts to keep from laughing.

"oh!" rosalie gasps, abashed. "goodness, well, at least that spark is still there. i loved patrick dearly, but when you're busy surviving everyday, you don't get time to . . . you know."

"i wish you'd tell that to these two," glenn continued. "almost every night its-" and then the little bastard starts slapping his hand against the wall just to really get his point across.

you spin around and punch him right in the leg. carl bursts into laughter as glenn cries out. even rosalie laughs, a nervous little titter that tells you she doesn't want to get on your bad side.

you slump back in your seat, and daryl immediately wraps his arm back around you, tighter this time, like he needs something to hold on to or he'll lose his temper. you flick a glance his way, but he doesn't meet your eyes, jaw set and gaze straight ahead.

you turn back to rosalie, shaking your head. "ignore them."

"they're just jealous anyway," daryl pipes up. "couldn't make someone moan if they tried."

you choke and bury your head in your hands; this is not where you expected the conversation to go. around you, everyone besides daryl is doubled over in fits of laughter, a sound you would have treasured if it wasn't for the fact it's aimed at you.

you glance at daryl through a crack in your fingers. he smiles smugly, chewing casually on a toothpick. you hate that he looks so good after embarrassing you like that, putting the image of that in your head, and now you feel all warm and gooey, like you might melt straight into his arms.

rosalie excuses herself to help maggie and hershel with dinner, and glenn and carl follow suit shortly after. you dislodge from under daryl's arm, ignoring the way you instantly crave the weight of him again.

"didn't realise you had such a sense of humour," you say, plucking your shoes from the floor. "good job by the way; arm over my shoulder and everything. you're really sticking to the character."

he shrugs. "might as well have fun with it."

"fun?"

"watching you get all flustered?" he trails his eyes down your body, back up again in a slow, almost sensual way. "my idea of fun."

you blink. he stares right back, and the thing is, he isn't even doing anything he wouldn't normally do. the man is just sitting there, waiting for you to reply to his teasing remark, but there's been something in the air these past few days, finally coming to immobilise you for good. you can't even keep the eye contact as heat crawls up your back.

"right," you mumble, looking away. "that's all good then. glad we got that over with. i'll see you later."

he lifts his hand in an amused little wave, ending the conversation and allowing you to scramble from the room.

----

"you were stomping too loudly the entire time. no wonder we didn't get anything."

"if anyone was being too loud, it was you."

"bullshit, daryl. i would have had that rabbit if you hadn't-"

daryl shoves past you, storming towards the prison. you grit your teeth and follow close behind, desperately trying to keep calm. another unsuccessful hunting trip, and daryl is clearly losing his patience - still, he doesn't have to take it out on you, and you're not going to let him.

"you can be such a child, you know," you call after him. "there's still plenty of food in the kitchen, so you don't need to be throwing all your fucking toys out of the pram."

"oh, shut up!" he exclaims. "all your smart little remarks ain't helping!"

"i'm not saying them to help, i'm saying them 'cause you're being a fussy little-"

he whirls around and pushes you against a tree.

you gasp, but the noise comes out weak and choked by the fingers gently tracing a line along the column of your throat. daryl presses his knee between your legs, all but holding you up at this point, because suddenly he is so close you can see the tiny green specks in his blue eyes. you have half a mind to shove him away, tell him to go to hell, but the words fail you when he drops his forehead to yours like it's the most normal thing in the world.

you swallow thickly. "w-what are you-"

"no more yelling at me," he says quietly. "rosalie is standing at the gate."

you go to turn your head, but daryl catches your chin, keeping your gaze pinned to his.

"don't look over," he orders. "that'll be too obvious."

without another word, he trails his fingers down your throat, hooking them in the neckline of your shirt. you rise on your toes, you can't help it. you've never had him so close to you before, never had the opportunity to crave this proximity so much, but there is a fire lit in your stomach right now that is impossible to ignore.

"y/n," he croaks, sounding just as desperate as you feel.

"daryl," you manage. "i-is she still looking?"

he nods without looking over, but you take his word for it, because you don't want the moment to end just yet.

you watch the movement of his eyes, the way they slowly slip to your lips, lingering there. he wets his own lips with a swipe of his tongue, throat bobbing, and suddenly this isn't a performance. suddenly you are overcome with the urge to grab him, drag him into you, audience or not.

you have the strange, impossible feeling that he might want the same thing.

but that doesn't make sense, because daryl doesn't like you in that way. from day one, his boundaries have been clear when it comes to you - you're his hunting partner, someone kept around to make life a little easier, his pain in the ass. not once has he ever expressed feelings for you. not to your face. not like this.

his hands fall away from your throat like leaves tumbling off a branch. your breath escapes you in a rush as you wait for him to step away, but he does no such thing; his hands find your waist, and he oh-so-gently nudges your hips back against the tree.

"y-you're taking this roll very seriously," you manage.

he huffs a laugh, breath fanning your face. his eyes slip closed. "right."

you cup his cheeks. "hey, open those eyes or she'll think we're breaking up."

he looks at you then, the eye contact more intense than it has ever been before. daryl isn't an emotional person, but he could fool anyone with the gaze he levels on you, like you're the only person in the whole world.

you draw back, hand still holding his face. "hey. what's wrong?"

"nothing."

but his answer is too quick, too orchestrated.

you furrow your brows and finally risk a glance at the prison gates; rosalie is nowhere to be found.

"coast is clear."

daryls eyes snap over, and he immediately stumbles away. "right. good. let's get back."

you watch him leave, legs still too weak to follow. he runs a hand through his brown hair, tugging on the strands, a complete demeanour change that leaves you stunned. you don't want to acknowledge your racing heartbeat, but it's difficult to ignore when it is so all consuming, so confusing.

you have to take a few calming breaths before heading to the prison. you duck under the gap daryl made in the fence and head to the canteen, desperate for a distraction. you think you've managed to sneak past the group until you actually enter the canteen to see hershel sitting at a table, all on his own. you have half a mind to walk away, avoid any conversation, but then you remember this is hershel.

"need company?" you ask, sitting across from him.

he looks up with a smile, though that expression is quickly replaced by furrowed brows and a frown. "what's wrong with you?"

you don't meet his eyes. "what do you mean?"

"you look like you've ran five miles."

"i don't know what you're talking about."

he lowers his head in an attempt to get a better look at your face. you do everything to hide away, but you should know better when it comes to hershel greene - nothing gets past him.

he slowly leans back, having clearly inspected your flushed cheeks and frazzled hair enough to make his own conclusions. "oh."

"don't start," you grumble.

"you know i hate gossip, but could you explain. . ."

you chew your bottom lip, twisting the ring on your finger. "just. . . daryl. rosalie was at the gate, so we had to keep up appearances, obviously. he's just. . . really good at his role. got me a little flustered, that's all."

hershel is silent for a beat too long. you risk a glance up and catch his sceptical eyes, all furrowed brows and a frown so deep you think you may have accidentally hurt his feelings somehow.

"what?" you ask.

"rosalie was nowhere near the gate."

you pause. "huh? yes she was. daryl-"

"rosalie's arthritis had a flare up this morning; she's been out cold all day. hasn't even left her cell."

your heart stops, because surely that isn't right. daryl wouldn't have gone anywhere near you if rosalie wasn't watching. you were having an argument, for crying out loud, and lord knows the only way daryl settles an argument is by blanking you, not pinning you against a tree and making your insides turn to complete sludge.

you go to tell hershel this, but the words die the moment you see the amused little smirk pulling across his face.

"what?" you spit.

"is it not so obvious?"

you know exactly what he's referring to, but you refuse to acknowledge it. "clearly not."

hershel chuckles. "my dear, that man is head over heels for you."

please don't.

"that's not true."

"you don't believe me?"

"it's not like that with me and daryl. we're hunting partners at best." you don't mention the way your heart races when he's around, the way you aren't comfortable with anyone in the same way you are with him, the way you would call him your best friend.

hershel tilts his head, but you can't meet his eyes. that would give too much away.

"y/n," he says softly. "come on now."

"you're looking too deep into things."

"i would agree if daryl hadn't confessed his feelings to me personally."

you open your mouth to shoot back a reply, but again, the words die the minute you process what hershel has just said. a confession from daryl? daryl dixon talking about his feelings? the idea is so bizarre you nearly start laughing, but the shock has left you almost immobile, so all you can do is blink, waiting for hershel to get to the punchline. he stares back, not a trace of humour on his face.

realistically, you know this isn't something hershel would joke about, but you can't bring yourself to accept any other possibility. it doesn't make any sense. it doesn't fit in the puzzle that is you and daryl.

"he. . ." you shake your head. "what did he say?"

"will you believe me if i tell you?"

"what did he say, hershel?"

"that he thinks he's in love with you, and it scares him." a soft smile graces his lips. "that's why i was so confused when he reacted the way he did to you kissing him. i would have thought he would be over the moon." "but that's. . . why wouldn't he just tell me?"

hershel scoffs. "when has daryl ever made his own life easier?"

you close your eyes, letting your head fall into your hands. "holy fuck."

"rosalie was nowhere near those gates today, my dear. i can promise you that."

you stand before you can think better of it. you are suddenly overcome with the need to see him, to look him in the eyes and hear this confession for yourself. you don't care that he'll be put on the spot, that his anxiety will probably morph him into a hostile beast. you need the truth, because going one more day without it might just drive you mad.

hershel doesn't even try to stop you. you storm out of the canteen and make a b-line for daryl's cell, pushing past a confused rick and carl on the way.

of course, daryl is laying on his bunk, crossbow held over his face as he inspects the weapons underbelly. he looks over when you storm inside, opens his mouth to no doubt yell at you, but he doesn't get the chance as you grab his crossbow and chuck it onto the floor.

"do you love me?"

the colour drains from his face in an instant. it is answer enough, so answer enough, and you nearly crumble under the weight of it. part of you wants to kiss him, another part of you wants to yell at him for making all of this so complicated, for denying himself something good just because he's less in tune with emotions than the corpses walking around.

you trail your hands through your hair. "oh, daryl. . ."

"did that old fuck tell you?" he sits up. "i swear to-"

you push him back onto the bed. "don't you dare start on hershel. you wanna know where rosalie's been all day? nowhere near those fucking gates, that's for sure." daryl looks away, but you're not playing games any more, not when your heart is beating so fast, and you don't know if it's out of anger, or excitement, or dread, or all of the above. you just need things to be straight forward from here on out. you just need the truth.

"daryl, what was that?" you demand. "why . . . why would you play along instead of just telling me the truth?"

"it's a lot harder than that," he grumbles.

"how long?"

he narrows his eyes. "huh?"

"tell me how long you've felt this way. since i kissed you?"

he scoffs like the suggestion is ridiculous.

you raise a brow. "before?"

"a long time before," he replies. "that's why the kiss. . . freaked me out so much. i ain't used to that shit. especially not with someone. . ."

you pause. "someone you love."

he squeezes his eyes closed. "it's so fucking stupid. hershel should have kept his goddamn mouth shut."

"rosalie's on bed rest. i would have found out eventually." you take a step closer and reach for his hand. he stares for a moment before slipping his hand in your own; his fingers are rough, yet the minute he intertwines them with yours, you realise you never want him to let go. "it's nothing to be intimidated by. it's not stupid."

"it is stupid. it should be the last thing on my mind. the dead are up and walking, but all i can fucking think about is you. it's always just you." he shakes his head, grip tightening the smallest bit. "i'm caught in a hoard and all i can think about is where you are, if you're safe or not. do you know how fucked that is? how in my head you are?" he scoffs in disbelief, tilting his head back. "christ, and you don't even try. you never have tried; you just managed to completely take me down without a care in the fucking world." he rakes his hands down his face, groans into his palms. "i should hate you for it."

"but you don't."

he drops his hands into his lap, dejected. "no. no, i really don't."

he looks up at you then, expectant, like a child waiting for their next task. you can only stare back at him, because there isn't an awful lot a person can say after an admission like that. you wish you could reply with something coherent, something that would get your own feelings across, but for the first time in history, daryl has articulated your emotions for you. every experience he so heart-wrenchingly described is one you have experienced yourself, so there's nothing you can add.

so instead, you guide his hand to your waist and let him draw you in. he's hesitant at first, never taking his eyes off you as you step between his knees and take his face in your hands. for a man so muscular, his cheeks are soft and round, a feature you've always found so amusing and appealing at the same time.

he inhales shakily. "you're still a pain in my ass."

"but you love me."

he scowls, but there is no denial.

you grin, and finally your mind clears enough for you to kiss him. for real this time.

he stiffens for just a moment before easing into it, grip tightening on your waist to pull you closer. you slide your hands over his shoulders, deepening the kiss, feeling his body against your own. you taste the cigarettes on his tongue, a flavour so perfectly him that it doesn't even gross you out. your nails bite into his back, forcing a growl from his throat that nearly has your eyes rolling into the back of your head with how desperate it leaves you.

that's how you know it's time to pull away.

he chases your lips, hands never leaving your waist even when you gently push him back. he groans, pressing his head to your stomach as he says, "why'd you stop?"

breathless, you reply, "it's the middle of the day, daryl, and these cells aren't exactly private."

"so? as far as everyone knows, we're a married couple." his hands slip lower, making you gasp. "and according to glenn, we're known for being loud anyway."

you swallow thickly. the only response you can give is another kiss, only this time you do let your eyes roll into the back of your head.

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

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darkonekrisrewrite · 4 months ago

Text

This can't be the final "End", for both the heroes and the villains

(Spoiler warning, long post)

Deku and Ochako's stories didn't end well, and not just for the shipping or not keeping One For All.

The narrative endings they got, either don't make sense or flat out don't work at all.

The end of Ochako's arc doesn't work because it conflicts with what we've been shown to be true.

She does try to help others after hearing PARTS of Toga's backstory, a natural progression of her character.

But the problem is that it leads to this:

"Uravity to expand access to Quirk Counseling"

EXPANDING Quirk Counseling...

Not REFORMING and then expanding Quirk Counseling.

Remember that this is Quirk Counseling:

"Where they attempt to hammer out any bumps in your understanding of the world and program you to fit neatly into society's little boxes.

It's a far from perfect process, the counseling ends up emphasizing the inherent differences among us all, and that's one bug they've yet to work out of the programming."

Stated by Curious during the MVA Arc, then confirmed later in a flashback featuring a counselor talking to Toga and her parents:

"Let's straighten you out so you can be "Normal".

Deviance is common in children with strong Quirks.

We'll fix it. It'll be like it never existed."

Focusing only on repression and the appearance of being normal, not actually helping the child at all.

So yeah, knowing that this is how Quirk Counseling really is, how exactly does expanding this help??

THIS WAS WHY TOGA STAYING CLOSE TO OCHAKO WAS SO IMPORTANT

(Not being with her in the shipping sense but working, talking with her and just being together.)

Anything good about this project that Ochako is creating is only implied not shown, and it doesn't mesh well at all with what we already know.

And even if Ochako did do things right, it still wouldn't be a satisfying payoff.

Ochako wasn't fighting so hard and struggling so much to help random, unnamed, unseen people from the villain life.

She was fighting to help Toga Himiko.

Her failing to save Toga and only (implying) saving others we don't even know, will never carry the same weight.

It won't feel right in a story that's supposed to be "Hopeful", because there's no solid connection left for that sentiment to be attached.

And there was no saving going on between Deku/shigaraki and Ochako/Toga after their battles were over.

This is the sentiment put forth by Nana Shimura (and at the time agreed upon by All-might and Deku), on what a true hero saving someone means:

"When you have to save someone, they're usually in a scary situation. A true hero saves not only their lives, but also their hearts... That's what I believe."

"Saving" is supposed to be both the life and the heart.

Not just one or the other.

And even if Gran Torino was supposed to be the one in the right -

(The narrative sure as hell made it look like he was supposed to be in the wrong and Deku was going to be the one to prove that.)

- in that killing can be a form of saving.

Deku and Ochako didn't even save the villain's hearts.

Not fully.

Shigaraki tells Deku that he still needs to be a hero to the villains and that he fought to destroy until the very end.

Only giving a snide encouragement to Deku at the end of the fight because he's literally crumbling into dust and got his world view rocked by the "It was AFO all along~" reveal.

Toga tells ochako that she didn't make "the bad stuff", the pain in her heart go away.

Only telling ochako that her efforts and words made Toga feel happy, but that's it.

They couldn't save their lives, only partially saved their hearts, leading to the results:

100% - 50% - 25% = 25 % (final grade)

FAIL

The rest of Deku's conclusion doesn't fair any better.

Deku's heroic finale ends the exact same way it ended in every filler bnha movie, only with even less payoff.

He didn't succeed in his goal, with who he wanted to save and he just goes back to doing what he always did at the start, being a hero.

He doesn't develop in any noticable way until the OFA embers run out off screen.

Even the symbolic saving of the scissors boy, Deku doesn't get.

It would have been a world of difference if deku had seen tenko's full backstory, then told it to the world.

Telling the civilians that they needed to do their part to help those in trouble.

(Knowing that there's no AFO left to potentially get in the way.)

Resulting in many civilians coming together to help the scissor boy.

That would have delivered on everyone's narrative payoff.

But instead the theme doesn't work here because the single old lady who does step up to help, does so out of guilt (Not helping tenko) rather than because it is the right thing to do.

Nobody among the civilians besides the old lady stepped up to help on top of that.

So it looks less like a societal shift and more like the redemption of one single person.

The narrative makes a half-hearted attempt to tie this back to Deku but it doesn't work there either.

Because how exactly does Deku punching shigaraki into powder inspire the old lady to extend a helping hand to someone who represents that same villain??

It doesn't.

Even if the sentiment is: that everyone must do their part to help, there is a giant disconnect between:

Everyone seeing the heroes helping each other, fighting and succeeding in destroying the scary villain.

and

Realizing that someone has to help the person who looks like a scary villain.

It doesn't add up together.

Doesn't flow narratively at all.

The 8 year time skip makes more problems with Deku.

The line of: "You too can become a Hero."

Is meant to be the payoff callback to All-might giving those same words to Deku in bnha's beginning, so now Deku says the same thing to another kid that has doubts about his ability to become a hero.

It is kind of sweet but thinking about it for more than 5 seconds should give pause because:

Deku was about to receive the most powerful quirk in the world from All-might.

And the kid Deku was giving those same inspirational words to could throw plates from his head.

It's not even confirmed whether or not the kid could control their size, telepathically manipulate them or something like that.

So if what that other loudmouth kid in the final chapter said is true, about how only the most capable can become heroes in the current time.

The entire conversation, just like many other things in this ending, reads like false hope from the heroes.

Not like Deku has to deal with any of that or the kid himself anymore because he gets a tech suit, allowing him to be a hero again.

We don't know if he keeps his teaching job or not, maybe he did, maybe he didn't.

But still, once again Deku avoids any difficult questions that the story puts in front of him.

And all of this doesn't even cover the other issues that the story brought up:

The popularity poll expanding instead of ending, as if that would prevent the Endeavor/Dabi situation from happening again.

Lack of social/government help for anyone who gets dealt more than a couple of bad hands in life, those caught up in hero/villain conflicts or other disasters (quirk based or not).

Remember how twice became a villain?

THE QUIRK SINGULARITY DOOMSDAY

Now that AFO, shigaraki and the doctor (all of his research and technology) are gone, what's going to happen when children start wiping out whole city blocks?

(The doctor may be alive and imprisoned but with AFO dead, the doctor likely won't help anymore because AFO was so important to him.)

With the power and complexity of the quirks inevitably increasing, think Eri unintentionally killing her dad X10.

Then the next round of kids, make it X50 then X100.

And finally, in the last chapter it's stated that there's a: "Decline in the villain emergence rate."

Why exactly that is isn't said, but it's implied that it's due to the efforts of Ochako and Shoji.

Let's put aside the suspension of disbelief and assume that it's true, that what they did worked in stopping villains from being made enough to have a real impact.

What happens to the people that are already villains??

The ones currently on the run or in jail.

If the hero kids made that big of a difference in the demographic of villains just by expanding counseling and nonviolent resolution, then that only reinforces the truth that the villains are easily preventable victims.

The implications of that aren't doing the heroes or hero society any favors.

We don't know what happens after because Rehabilitation was never offered to anyone who wasn't a small time criminal (Gentle Criminal) or a former assassin of the state (Lady Nagant).

Are the other villains still currently stuck in their circumstances just out of luck, help came too late for them too just like the Lov?

We don't know.

You can assume, imply and head-canon the solutions to all these issues, with what the hero kids might do, as much as you want to.

But if you have to do that with the big questions and plot points, then the story hasn't delivered on what it said it was going to.

Maybe horikoshi isn't that good of a writer but it's hard to believe that.

Horikoshi put so much into this series and all the characters in it, the central villains and the hero kids being the most important ones.

That he'd just fumble everything and pull a Falcon and the Winter Soldier: "You need to do better" and then they did'-Type ending.

This can't be it.

Maybe the "Ending" endpoint of this narrative but not the end of the overall story.

For the villains just as much as the heroes.

Toga dying to a blood transfusion, despite everything other characters survived (Gran Torino donut, edgeshot worm, Dabi charcoal skeleton) and things that she herself survived already.

Having curious bombs go off inside her body leading to internal damage and severe blood loss, yet she still survived until she received help and recovered just fine.

They got Dabi to medical and kept him alive.

Other villains like overhaul, muscular, compress and spinner survived.

It's not like she either had to die or go to jail, she could have just escaped.

Leading to her meeting up with Ochako again in secret or something, to finally fulfill both of their arcs and iron everything out for what would have happened in the future.

Then the Quirk Counseling ending could have worked.

Shigaraki dying after finding out his life was entirely manipulated by AFO.

Strung along like a puppet, mentally and physically manipulated to believe he is a force of destruction, so much that by the time the series starts, it's all shigaraki can believe himself to be.

Twice and Kurogiri fight and die trying to save Toga and Shigaraki, so they can live and be reunited with their friends.

This all just meant nothing in the end??

Ochako, Deku, Toga and Shigaraki's stories can't be over yet because they are important characters and there's too much left unresolved.

Ochako's resolution is incomplete and undefined.

Deku's hero ending feels disappointing and tone-deaf.

Toga completely disappeared before Ochako was taken by the helicopter, nowhere to be seen where she should have been if she had died.

And how is shigaraki a force ghost still walking around in the world if there's no quirks left tethering him as a vestige?

ALSO this recent interview with Horikoshi himself:

(Warning: Spoilers for the most recent BNHA movie)

"Horikoshi says one thing to pay attention to from the My Hero Academia "You're Next" movie is the relationship between Giulio and Anna and how it connects with Deku and the others' goals.

He writes:

"The relationship between Giulio and Anna is a part of the goal point where Deku and the others will eventually reach.

The movie as a standalone in itself is interesting, but if you watch the movie then return to the actual story, then you might feel 'oh so this is where the story leads to.' As such, please pay attention to Giulio and Anna in the movie!"

To give context, by the end of the movie, Giulio is able to cancel out Anna's quirk using his own, allowing her to live a life without being sheltered in fear of her quirk or used as a weapon. So Horikoshi's comment is probably referring to how they help each other accept their quirks or lack thereof and still be able to live in harmony.

In regards to their relationship, Giulio tells Anna he will always be by her side no matter what, they hug and then walk off into the sunset together at the end of the movie."

And another heavily lampshaded moment in the movie novelization when Giulio inner narrates this:

'He knew that killing her wouldn't be a true form of salvation.'

What was all this about??

There has to be more left.

#bnha #mha #toga himiko #shigaraki tomura #ochaco uraraka #bnha meta #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers

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lunarw0rks · 1 year ago

Note

Hi can you do a fluff drabble where you do a facial mask with 141 +köing kinda like a at home date night

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.･ﾟﾟ･｡♡ ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

PRICE

never, and i mean never, does anything to pamper himself unless it involves his facial hair.

but, if there's one thing that he loves more than his beard — it's you, and your endearing domestic date ideas.

what's the harm? it's no fun being strict and hardened 24/7 — and he swears by that when he's home with you.

you do it with him, slathering on a charcoal mask on the both of you while you set up in the kitchen.

"sorry, lovie. 'm not used to this." he grumbles when you tell him to sit still, peaking at you through his closed eyes. you maintain a gentle touch, putting an even coat of the spread.

you cuddle on the couch, surely staining his shirt when you forget you have the tacky mask on your face.

he doesn't care, because this will be a fond memory next time he's away. or worse.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.･ﾟﾟ･｡♡ ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

SIMON

he's always been interested in your pampering. what you're doing, what that bottle does, what scents you like, etc...

often, he leans on the doorway and just watches you go through the motions of your skincare routine.

it's just another small detail for simon to remember about you — and that's enough for him.

so, being asked to participate, he acted as grumpy as ever.

but did he join you in the bathroom, allowing you to put whatever on his face? of course, he did.

"like the smell of that one." he says, instinctively scrunching his face while you smooth the rose-scented mask onto his often untouched skin.

while you wait on it to dry, he uses a magazine to fan his face, "how exactly is this helping me? 'm not the prettiest of test subjects, love."

well, his skin ended up glowy and clean for a few hours, until he put his mask on again.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.･ﾟﾟ･｡♡ ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

SOAP

it's constant questions. "what's this? what does that do?" and etcetera.

to your horror, soap only does skin care after he shaves, which isn't always consistent when he's deployed.

years of sand, dirt, sweat, and other grime not being properly scrubbed out of his pores — oh god !!

you have to put the face mask on for him, otherwise he would've put too much or too little.

probably tries to bite your fingers when you swipe the paste along his jaw... he's like a feral raccoon.

"don't know why ya' bother with this stuff. too much work. and you're already smokin'." he says in a pout, giving you a sly wink when you roll your eyes.

but, by the time he washes it off and feels his skin; smooth and hydrated, he eats his words.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.･ﾟﾟ･｡♡ ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

GAZ

gaz has an intricate and strict skincare routine that he follows, so you've had self-care dates often.

it's usually his idea before yours !!

he has the pricey stuff — any drop in quality and his skin is wiped and irritated for days.

"now put this on, it'll cool our skin off after the scrub."

he hands you a squeeze bottle of a peeling mask; mint and eucalyptus-scented, cool against your fingertips and exfoliated face.

laying in bed, wearing hair and face masks together until they're set and ready to be peeled.

best believe, you're not going to bed without a proper lotion routine — it's customary with dating gaz !! he wants you well taken care of !!

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.･ﾟﾟ･｡♡ ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

KÖNIG

he has little, if not no time for skincare/self-care, so if you're able to convince him — you got lucky !!

forcing him to sit still and kneel in front of you, putting all kinds of skincare on his dry skin.

how he's gone on this long without moisturizer, especially when in such gritty climates, you have no clue.

"i don't get it, schatz. this is unnecessary." he grumbles, merely going limp and allowing you to apply the peel mask. "i bought these things for your face, why waste it on me?"

his pores desperately need it, that's obvious !!

the sight of a giant man, dressed in dark colors, now wearing a cucumber green mask — is definitely one you're going to remember.

still, he does it for you, because you asked him to.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.･ﾟﾟ･｡♡ ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

#rachel speaks #mw2 #task force 141 #call of duty #141 headcanons #141 hcs #cod headcanons #cod hcs #mw2 hcs #mw2 headcanons #tf 141 #141 task force #cod 141 #141 x reader #tf 141 x reader #mw2 fanfic #task force 141 x reader #task force 141 x y/n

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nogenderbee · 8 months ago

Text

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ 𝔸𝕥𝕥𝕒𝕔𝕜! ₊˚ˑ༄

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ anon request: Hi, I hope you're having a good day/afternoon/night :) I'd like to ask you for some platonic headcanons (although if it's not your style it's okay to ignore it) about the demons in obey me and how they would react if MC saves them from a surprise attack by a demon hunter (whether she ends up very injured or not I leave it to your choice 😉)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Hello! I love this idea honestly. But I take up to 8 characters and there's total of 9 demons in OM! that I write for so I removed Lucifer and did the other demons because they're getting too little love </3 Hope you won't mind this little change and still like it!

Also I really hope I did platonic for everyone- I might've got ahead of myself and automatically did fluff for some so... lemme know if that happened!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ platonic, TW: mentions of reader dying, small descriptions of cutting/sword swinging

✧ the moment news about demon hunter going around Devildom spread, you were paranoid and the weight of calming you down landed on Mammon

✧ your age didn't matter, he'd take you to casino to relax. Or... he'd want to... if you're too young for it Lucifer or security would definitely kick his ass for trying to do that

✧ luckily tho, he wasn't worried about you since the demon hunter obviously hunts just demons, even he knows that!

"Don't ya worry, human! I'm called THE Great Mammon for a reason!"

✧ but the moment he crosses patches with one... he's actually more concerned about you than himself

✧ he's gonna step in front of you, assuring you it's alright while it's actually him who's considering if it'll be better to fight or run away

✧ and the moment YOU save HIM is like a hit to him... I mean, he was supposed to protect you, not the other way around! But you'll still catch him blushing from emberassment as he mutters small thank you. Bur you better listen because he's not repeating it!

✧ that's if you wint end up dead... if you do, he actually breaks into tears when he realizes he lost someone important again...

✧ the demon hunter might not be here anymore but even then, he makes a promise to your empty eyes

"I'll make them pay... for doing this to you... I'll be the one protecting you this time. I won't fail for the 3rd time."

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

✧ Levi would be just as if not more scared than you

✧ he's already isolating, what made you thought he'd even consider going out in such a circumstances? Well... you would...

✧ after solid 6 months, even you calmed down and figured that demon hunter must've calmed down so you thought you might as well go game shopping with the third brother!

"Uh... seriously? What if that demon hunter is walking around? No, don't go alone!! Alright I'm coming..."

✧ but as he imagined, 6 months were definitely not enough to calm down... because just before you entered the game shop, you had to be push Levi aside or he'd get hurt

✧ if you didn't got hurt badly, he'll definitely first talk them off but he will summon Lotan without hesitation if they decide to make second attempt

✧ but if you did got hurt badly... he summons Lotan immidietly, not caring about consequences, he just wants them gone after seeing you in this state

✧ but surprisingly you didn't even felt a single drop on you, he was ready to destroy all the buildings in this city but made sure you won't be anymore hurt

"Y/N please tell me you're alright... and that I didn't hurt you more... c'mon they're gone now, let's go back home, this store had nothing that catched my eye anwyay..."

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

✧ Satan was the wise one here, like usual. He figured news must be playing jokes or that the problem will pass soon enough, so after 2 months, after news completely calmed down, he tried calming you down as well

"Remind me, for how long this 'demon hunter' had been quiet? 2 months, exactly. No murders, no signs, just quiet. You're being paranoid, Y/N."

✧ he eventually had enough and took you out by force to show you no one's scared anymore and it's just you

✧ but as he was dragging you along, focused on not bursting with anger from your whining, he didn't notice the swing which you took

✧ it definitely left a bruise on you, but let's assume it didn't kill you! He'd still be pissed, the moment he sees blood on you, he's already in his demon form ready to hunt down anyone who did this to you

✧ and if you're actually dying? He'd make sure to remember their facial characteristics, he want to run and get vengeance but he also knows you're close to death and need help QUICK

✧ but in the end, he can't save you... he becomes even more angry on daily basis and will hunt down anyone who looks at least a little similar to that demon hunter, he didn't care if it wasn't them, he can't risk not trying

"I'll make you pay... I won't kill you once, but 100 of times, so you can feel what you did to them."

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

@miya-akane - come get your cat lover!

✧ let's be honest, both you and Asmo were absolutely terrified at the news of demon hunter going all around Devildom

✧ you can't count how many nights you two spend together and how many times he complained to you that he's running out of his beauty products but doesn't dare to go out alone

"I can't go alone!! Y/N c'mon... I'll buy you something too!"

✧ it wasn't helping your worries but you really had enough of his whining... so you figured one hour in the city shouldn't hurt! I mean, what's the chance demon hunter will appear in this exact city at this exact hour?

✧ well this hour apparently was enough... you didn't even had good luck around when you noticed something shining as Asmo was still rambling... you quickly realized it was a sword and without second thought, pushed him away

✧ at first, he was a bit upset because you pushed him on dirty wall, ruining his outfit but upon realizing WHY you did that, his emotions shifted on the person who caused it in the first place

✧ seeing the cut on you made him absolutely furious, and believe him, he wanted to fight. But whether the cut is deadly or not, he'll rush back home with you

"Ugh! They're the real demon here! Hang on Y/N... I will not let you end like this."

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

@vodka-glrl - come get your pretty princess~

✧ Beel was actually quite cautious but still confident in his skills, always assuring you he can manage even if he gets attacked

✧ but you still insisted on going with him anytime he goes out, so that's how it also was today

✧ and he's actually more careful when he's walking with you so that's actually good for you both

"We should get something to eat while we're at it... I'm not this focused on my surroudnings when I'm hungry..."

✧ it was just the moment when Beel's stomach was growling that the demon hunter striked before he knew it. And before demon hunter knew it, you got in front of ginger demon

✧ it won't be a lie when I say his heart stopped for a second when he saw a sword making an injury on you, he even threw his food away just so he could fight the one who did that!

✧ believe him, that demon hunter tasted better than the food

✧ now, you injury doesn't matter, injury is still very risky for humans, he'll just be more worried if it's deadly one

✧ he's definitely not leaving your side, be it when you're alive or a ghost, he promised himself to always have an eye on you

"Hey... I brought your favorite snack... I thought we could... eat together or... appreciate it... however it wouldn't sound..."

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

✧ Belphie is kinda simoliar to his third brother with it... why go outside and risk your life when you can sleep?

✧ you literally don't have to worry about him because he not only sleeps through whole days but also keeps you trapped so you can't go in the city, the only source of news for you is tv and media

✧ so when you heard cafe's are opening again as Devildom have calmed down... you thought it could be nice to go back to your dates!

"Uhh... it's so early... didn't that demon hunter just kill someone 2 days ago? ... Maybe 2 months, same thing... let's sleep together, it can also be a nice date..."

✧ you'll literally have to force him to go outside, not because he's scared but because he's lazy, and looking at how it ended... he'd actually prefer if he was stubborn enough to pin you to bed and not go out...

✧ because when you went outside, he just saw blade in one second and your injury in another

✧ no matter of your injury is deadly or not, he'll throw his fists at the one who caused it

✧ he's having flashbacks now and trust me, he'll go all the way out, especially with deadly injury

✧ he looks so scary and ready to kill, but once you're alone, he breaks...

"I'm so sorry... I'll save you in another life, I promise... Believe me, I or anyone won't hurt you once..."

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

@miya-akane - come get your sleepyhead~

✧ Diavolo just wanted to see human world, he didn't expect there was still something like 'demon hunters'. And even if, he made sure to disguise as human well!

"Well isn't that nice... You certainly have quite a culture! What do you recommend we visit?"

✧ apparently tho, it wasn't good enough because in one second he was sharing a donut with you and enjoying the time, and in another he saw you getting in front of him we someone swinged their sword right through your stomach

✧ if you didn't end with deadly cut and more of a warning one, he'd manage the situation, it was just the attack from surprise that caught him off guard

✧ he chooses to try persuading them first but if that won't work, he'll only break their weapon and eventually knock them down, not wanting to cause too much damage

✧ poor boy will be like a puppy following you around because he feels guilty for this whole situation

✧ but if you did end up with deadly cut... he feels like he failed. Failed as your partner

"I'll do better from now on... I promise."

✧ his heart was telling him to get vengeance but his mind was telling him to wait... so with small sadness he tried persuading this demon hunter to give it up but when it obviously doesn't work, he will 'accidentally' finish their life

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

✧ you decided to accompany Barbatos with his tea shopping in human world, thinking it could be nice to spend some time together and learn a thing or two about tea

"Now we'll be heading there. I know it seems like shady place but believe me, it's actually the opposite. It'll be best if you see for yourself."

✧ but he for one had a bad feeling about it... he tried keeping his guard up but in one moment, when he was checking what's tea made of, he let his guard down...

✧ he just heard you bumping into his back, making him turn around, realizing he was lost in his thoughts for a little while

✧ he'll be so relieved when he sees you with just a little scratch and makes sure to scare the demon hunter you're dealing with, be it with his appearance or be throwing them into wall, it all depends how cooperative they'll be

✧ but if you ended up with no chance of living, he wouldn't care to scare them off and would rather immidietly end them, apologizing while reporting to his lord for what he did

"How can someone so careless even call themselves a good butler... Eh... maybe I could mess with time again... just a little bit..."

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

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pricegouge · 7 months ago

Text

Fatted Rabbit Part Six on AO3

Contents

Bearshifter!Price x reader | explicit

Simon stands behind the bar like some sort of massive, brooding Aeacus. As if they were always bound to meet here, and John was always bound to spill his secrets, and wasn't John such a stupid little twat for not having ever realized that before? It speaks volumes that not even Simon's shit eating grin puts a damper on John's mood.

A/N: texts are displayed as screen caps, but alt text is available. Warnings for John being a weirdo about Bunny menstruating, and for disparaging comments about Bunny's weight (not from John, obv)

It speaks volumes that not even Simon's shit eating grin puts a damper on John's mood.

"You're relieved, Riley."

"I'll say. Didn't even need to have a talk with 'er about curfews."

"Well, I know how you worry. It went well, by the way."

"Didn't ask. How'd you manage not to muck it up?"

"I got this excellent relationship coach that gave me some great ideas."

"You keep adding to my workload and I'm unionizing."

"Yeah?" John laughs, "You and who?"

"That new barkeep seems easily impressionable."

"Mm. That what got your stamp of approval?"

Oh, it's always a good day when John can pry a real reaction from his head brewer. Simon doesn't squint, but there's a tightening around his eyes that suggest he would do, if he suffered such banal things as 'automatic response disinhibition.'

"Am I gonna need to sit you down with the harassment video again, Riley?"

"Don't technically work at the bar, cap. One Four One pays my bills." He's aiming for a sarcastic 'so what if I am,' lands slightly off center.

"Good point. You been putting a lot of thought into it?"

The pause is a half a beat too long. "Too busy thinkin' about having to cover my boss's shifts while 'e flits about with some young bird like 'e's in uni again."

"Aye. Gonna need you to do it again on Sunday, too."

"Sunday?" Simon barks. "You're training on Sunday."

"No, you're training on Sunday. By the time I get here he'll probably be good to go."

Now he does squint. "And if I got plans?"

"You'd've mentioned them first. Thanks, Si. I owe you one."

"You owe me the business at this point."

"Already in my will and testament."

"Mm. Keep trying your luck and I'll take what's owed sooner'n later."

***

Simon stays on to cook, a blessing considering it ends up being a decent Friday turnout. The early spring seems to be pulling in more than just the locals. John resolutely does not put on the hockey match he knows his rabbit's interested in because he doesn't want to listen to Simon's opinion on that, but he does watch the ticker tape at the bottom of the basketball commentary to monitor the score when he can. He's not sure why; he can't exactly participate in any informed conversation on the subject, but it seems like it'll be a good anecdote to know when they're skating.

Fuck, skating. He'd been a few times in his life and it had all been perfectly fine, but he usually sleeps right through the season so it's not something he's practiced in a while. He doesn't want to make an ass of himself, even if the rabbit had the same concerns. It's embarrassing enough being as twiggy as he is currently, he couldn't stand to be uncoordinated or in any way less physical in her eyes. He remembers how raptly she'd watched that match, the ways her eyes had tracked the men on screen. He hadn't found it in any way threatening at the time, but he doesn't want to be compared negatively to them. The fact that they're professional doesn't matter, of course, at least not to the beast in his chest.

John shoots her a sympathetic text when the team she'd been following loses (again. He's going to have to figure out how playoffs work here, the basketball announcers are even talking about multiple games) but he doesn't get a response until quite late, when he's on the roof enjoying a cigar after closing.

Christ, another game?

John damn near preens

He'd rather buy her those panels but he doesn't think she'd let him. More than that he'd rather drive her car into Whitefish Lake, but he supposes she'd be a little cross about that, too.

John nearly bites through his cigar. It's an honest struggle to force his bear back under his skin, the animal not fully understanding that such a challenge could be issued through miles of suburban landscape and a thirty foot drop off a roof. Much as he wants her here (on her knees between his thighs, mouth hot and wet through the fabric of his trousers as he shoves a boot under her cunt, preferably), it's probably a good thing she isn't because he doesn't want her on all fours their first time, his jaws clamped on the nape of her neck as he leans his full weight on her, trapping her big soft body between the mass of himself and the cold hard ground, uncaring if the whole city heard her whining, or screaming, or begging, or moaning. He wants to see her face as he fucks her, learn what she likes or doesn't. He wants to eat her out as if she's the only food he'll need for winter - until she's crying about how she has nothing left to give and then he wants to lick her tears up, too.

But right now the only thing he wants from her is her round arse presented in apology, the feel of her flesh between his teeth.

It's a struggle to be witty when your body is trying to prime you for both a fight and a fuck at the same time and your circulatory system feels like the Magic Roundabout, so John doesn't bother.

And that's -. Fuckin' -.

Just like that, she's got him back to heel. More pup than predator, eager to beg for treats from her hands. A brat he can handle; even his bear seems greedy at the prospect. If her challenges aren't in earnest - if she's simply trying to get a rise out of him because she wants him to fuck her hard, he's more than happy to allow it. Happy to let his bear take over and give her what she wants.

Fuck, he's hard. A green cub, can't even distinguish rational thought and animalistic impulses. No, she's not asking for an actual bear in human skin to take her to task, Christ. He needs circulation back to his brain STAT. And to think this all started with a Viagra joke.

***

Saturday is a lesson in patience. He feels unmoored, confused. A bit like standing in a cold stream waiting for the salmon run to leap into his mouth, weeks before they're due to arrive. There is so much to do. His rut looms in the distance like a sundog: a beautiful, bad omen. He should be preparing. Securing his mate, improving his den, padding his own body, ensuring she's equipped to carry both herself and his cubs through the winter.

Instead he's lying to QuickBooks about where his head brewer worked this week and hosing off beer mats, listening to some old coot veer dangerously close to homophobic remarks about the lesbian couple who own the boot shop across the way. It sets John's teeth on edge, makes him snappy. He spills the man's third beer across his lap as he hands it off and gets even more irritated when it only garners benevolent absolution. He wants a fight. Wants a fuck even more. Is turning in circles knowing he won't get either any time soon. Simon doesn't stop by, doesn't offer himself as a verbal, pricker-covered punching bag. The rabbit never texts. John would give his left eye to eat a porcupine right now, feel the satisfaction of the kill and the anger of his prey, both.

He closes shop early, finds his way to the edge of town. He hardly even bothers to hide his clothes in a sparse, budding green thicket before he's on all fours, lumbering off into the woods. Her scent has been growing stronger for him. In his human form, he can usually smell her from across town but like this, snout high in the air as he sifts through the noxious scent of the other humans in town, he can track her clear up to Lake McDonald. It's soothing, usually: the sweetness of the simple foods she eats, the saltiness of her skin. Her cunt. But it's sour tonight, distressed and distressing. He sets off in a blind panic.

He's nearing the Flathead when it hits him properly and he slows, relief and understanding washing over him. Poor rabbit, she's nearing her monthlies. He can smell it now, the stink of her discomfort and the impending blood. No wonder he was so off kilter all day. It speaks to the quality of their bond that he can already sense these things. Means when his rut comes around, she'll likely be impacted too, which sets his mouth watering. Although -.

If their bond was really that strong, she wouldn't be menstruating. Waste of bloody resources. A stupid fucking design flaw he could cure her of.

With a proper bond or a cub, whichever came first.

She's not parked in a proper camp tonight, just tucked away on a four wheel path safe from the main road. He considers not disturbing her for all of thirty seconds before he starts chuffing and sniffing like a hog around her wheel wells. He hears her shuffling about and then her little curtain moves and she beams at him.

"That you, big guy?"

John lowers at her and she pulls her screen down properly to get a better look. He doesn't raise himself half onto her roof this time, just remains on all fours and lifts his head enough to peer back at her.

"You know, we have to stop meeting like this. People will talk." For once, John doesn't think he'd mind. As if to test that theory, she shuffles around a bit and John sees her pull her phone out of the center console to power it up. She was supposed to get battery back ups today. Part of the reason he was so irritable; he'd wanted to speak with her. But if even he was feeling so completely out of it, he can't imagine she cared very much about a trip to the store herself. He waits patiently for her phone to power up. She keeps an eye on him, but he just continues to puff foggy breaths onto her window, unbothered. Eventually she tells him to say cheese and he makes a soft noise at her that makes her grin.

"I never knew bears could moo," she teases and John sneezes at her in annoyance which only makes her giggle. Christ, an honest giggle. She's so fucking cute he could squeeze her til she popped.

"I think that's my favorite noise you make. Though the huffs are pretty cute too." So John does it again, just to show off. "Yeah, that one! Gonna have to do some studying, figure out what those all mean. Just suppose I'm lucky you haven't roared at me yet."

Don't worry bunny, he'd never.

She putz around on her phone and John wonders how many people she's sending the picture to. He's being careless, he knows, but it's worth it to see her - to ensure she's thinking of him, even if she doesn't know it. She holds her stomach absently as she types and after a few moments her face scrunches and she winces, curling in on herself a bit more. When it passes, she eyes him with mock suspicion. "That why you're here, big guy? The bears can smell the menstruation!" That last bit is said in an affected voice, probably a reference to something he's too British to understand. "Thought that was a myth?"

It is, clever rabbit. For all but you.

She hasn't actually started yet, he doesn't think. Poor lamb will likely start right as they're due to meet at the rink. He wonders if she'll cancel. He's already making contingency plans, wondering if she'll let him take care of her or if she'll make excuses and leave him to figure out how to both pretend he doesn't know what's really going on and also make it clear she's allowed to ask him for help with it.

"Well, periods are a curse enough as it is. It's not fair that god sends his cuddliest looking creatures out to kill us, too. You look like an industrial size heating pad and the world's biggest spoon all rolled up in the fuzziest weighted blanket imaginable. You're a frickin' cure all come to kill me. Tease!"

Oh, he's the luckiest man to ever walk the earth. She's so perfect, already warmed up to his bear, no coaxing required. Soon, honey. You can cuddle up to his beast anytime you want. He can't help the constant chuffing noises her spiel has earned; or the way he presses against her car as if he can transfer some of his heat through the metal. He'd been struggling to keep his impulses in check all day, but in this form it's even harder. He's split between the elation of her accepting this form and the frustration that she won't let him help her. He wants to turn back right here, let her see, ferret her out of her den and let her use his body to cure her ails in whatever way she sees fit.

"You're so cute though, I guess I can forgive you," she continues, and it's a struggle to keep his grunting noises in check enough that he can still hear her. "You know, I told my friend about you. He said the bears around here can be pretty well socialized because it's such a high traffic area. You got other girls you're seeing on the side?"

Never, bunny, he snorts, never again.

"I promise I won't be offended. We can keep it casual." She puts on an overly breezy air, being silly. "I mean like, cause they're not like feeding or petting you either, right? Like, you're not… getting that from any girl at all, right?" A beat. John tries to play along by looking as contrite as a bear possibly can. "You whore!" she gasps, "Who is she?"

His response is to stand and lean against her car, ducking his head to nod at her.

"Mmm, nice recover. You know if you really wanted to make it up to me, you'd stop scraping my paint." Admonished, Price lowers himself back to the ground. The rabbit eyes him suspiciously. "I swear, sometimes it feels like you can understand me. Are you a circus escapee? Do you know any tricks?" She pauses, as if waiting. "Can you speak?"

Fuck it, John gives her a halfhearted, rumbling roar.

She laughs, delighted. "How about lay down? You know that one?"

And that sounds like a great idea so he does, makes himself comfortable with his belly on the muddy trail.

"What about roll over?" She asks, voice soft with apprehension; unfortunately, twice is a coincidence but three times is a pattern. John ignores her command in favor of chewing at the pads of his forepaw and after a moment, the rabbit breathes out a heavy, chuckling sigh.

"Might be going a bit batty, spending all my time alone," she mutters. Louder, she tells him, "I think you've got the right idea about getting comfy, though. I'm turning in. You staying there? You'd make some guard dog."

John just rolls his eyes to her and huffs.

"Right. Well, goodnight. Please be gone when I wake up so I can pee without fear." He snorts at her and she chuckles in response, shifting her weight around the car enough to make it rock a bit. She doesn't put her privacy screen back up, he notes with some frustration. He'll have to stay until the early hours just to be sure she's safe, but he doesn't mind. He's been tempted to spend every night exactly like this since he first spotted her rubbing herself raw in the early spring dawn. He's just happy to know she doesn't seem too freaked out by his presence.

***

Sunrise finds him fishing his damp clothes out of the bush he'd hastily tucked them into the night previous. They make for an unpleasant trip back, but he's warmed by a missed text from his bunny: a picture of himself captioned 'Think I made a new friend'.

She'd been asleep when he'd left her but even still, John cannot help replying right then and there.

***

John is leaning against his passenger door when he spots her big Wrangler pulling in and he makes his way to her with enough time to offer a hand as she slides out of the car. He maybe stands a bit too close, appreciating the way her thick, soft thighs rub briefly against his own as he helps guide her gracefully to the ground.

She's got on leggings and tall socks with converse and a thin henley under a worn denim jacket. She's so cute he wants to throw her in the back of her Jeep right then and give the suspension a run for its money. Compounding his dilemma is the strong scent of her monthlies evident through the thin material of her trousers. It's weak enough he doubts anyone else will notice, but the scent of the iron rich blood has his teeth itching.

Plus it's upsetting to be slapped in the face with such strong evidence that their bond isn't fully formed.

Despite his turmoil, John smiles at her warmly and kisses her on the cheek in greeting, making her blush.

"Good to see that bear didn't make off with you. Not sure I could win that particular fight."

She laughs as they make their way inside, "I don't know, he seems more of a lover than a fighter. You could probably win him over with some berries or something."

"So then I'd have to share both you and my food? I gotta run this bloke out of town." John can feel the rabbit eyeing him suspiciously, weighing the quality of his words. He, of course, doesn't flinch; simply holds the door open and guides her through with a palm on her lower back.

He's hoping she'll tell him he doesn't need to worry about sharing her, but it seems that's a bit much to expect from a casual second date. She motions to the door he's held for her instead. "See? And here you were worried about not being a gentleman."

John's laugh is a mean, hot puff of breath. "There's still time," he warns, standing too close.

He helps her into her cute little skates, lets her use his body to keep herself upright as they stand in the carpeted hallway waiting on the zamboni to finish up. He's maybe a little swept up in the domesticity of it, surrounded as they are by other couples and families with small kids. 'Stanley Cup hopefuls,' the rabbit calls them, and John nearly goes weak in the knees imagining her bringing his cubs back here one day, decked out in her team's colors. He stands too close but she doesn't seem to mind; and when he kisses her on the crown of her head and keeps his lips there, she just leans a little more into him and he sighs in contentment. And when the doors finally open, he is treated to the absolute delight of watching his rabbit trying to figure out how to keep her feet under herself, laughing all the while.

The crowd is a mix of old hats just trying to stay limber; pesky children who rocket by, trying hard as they can to get under feet and trip people up; and landlubbin' newbies like them. It's good, sweet. Gives John an excuse to keep his hands on his rabbit, and seems to take her mind off her cramps, if the way her sweat turns from acrid with stress to good clean salt is anything to go by. It would be perfect, John decides, if not for a pair of twenty-something boys that linger, skating big ambling circles around John and his girl. They're casual, keep their eyes mostly to themselves, but John is already on edge and something about their presence makes him want to stand his ground.

Of course, he can't quite do that when the whole point of free skate appears to be 'skate in a circle'.

"Might've had it wrong, bunny," John grins as he gets his hand around her thick waist for the dozenth time, catching her just as her right foot goes slipping out in a direction she didn't authorize. "Think you're more of a Bambi than a thumper."

"With these thighs?" she jokes, slapping her quad for effect.

John doesn't bother to hide the hunger that elicits in him. He's about to give her a tiny little smack of his own when -,

"Nice catch, man. Way to take one for the team."

"Yeah, they'll have to bring the zamboni back out if she goes down."

John is distantly aware of his rabbit going stiff and quiet, her gaze drifting somewhere down by her feet. He keeps hold of her arm but it's more an instinctual comfort than a conscious decision, as all his higher brain function is dedicated to not growing fangs between which to trap these boys.

"They'll have to bring it back out if I use your teeth like an auger, too." John's voice is low. Possibly too low to be strictly human. It gets the point across anyway. The twiggy twats who have been circling like sharks all morning take one look at him and decide they have severely misread the depth of his feelings for the soft girl they've targeted. Finding no easy prey here, they mumble an apology (to John, the gits, not his rabbit) and dart off to pester a gaggle of teenage girls. John draws himself even closer to his girl, waits until he's certain he can control his voice better. "Fucking bellends. Sorry about them. You okay, honey?"

"Yeah, it's fine. Thanks for that. Sorry I clammed up, I can usually fight my own battles."

John scoffs, unamused. "No need, sweetheart. Unless you'd rather, of course. Actually, sorry if I overstepped. Knee jerk reaction."

"Oh, no, trust me, you're fine. Not mad at all." Her breath is soft, nearly amused, and John can't help but feel a little proud at having turned her mood around so quickly.

"Do you want to go do something else?"

"And let them know they bothered me? Absolutely not."

John grins, hums appreciatively. "That's my girl." His grin only widens when she blushes at the term.

They talk about their hometowns when they're not busy stumbling. John tells her about Hereford and his mom, and she tells him how similar this area is to where she grew up. She deflects a bit when asked about her family and John doesn't pry. He wishes she would tell him everything, of course, but can't help being a tiny bit selfishly pleased at the knowledge there's no tight knit family waiting for her back home. He tries asking about Dallas instead but the answers she provides are stiff and rehearsed, and her body language locks up so much it negates the small progress she's made in her skating abilities. John quickly moves on to film preferences and she's quick to loosen back up (she likes period dramas and high fantasy and isn't immune to a night in with a kid's movie).

Eventually her discomfort seems to catch up with her and John thinks he has the unique experience of realizing she will need to make a sanitary run to the bathroom before she does. He debates how best to handle it for exactly thirty seconds before his mouth is moving.

"Do you want to go get lunch?"

The rabbit stops, turning to face him fully. Well, John stops. She grabs his coat sleeve and tries to convert her momentum into a quick u-turn. It's mostly successful in that John has to swing an arm around her back to keep her upright. It's extremely successful in that the momentum carries her right on through and into his chest, where he keeps her pinned tight just because she seems quite content there. "You don't have to work?"

John shrugs, knowing Simon may well quit. "What's the point in being the boss if I can't bang in late every now and again?"

"I guess, but you don't want to -?"

Whatever she's about to suggest is interrupted by the very loud sound of John's stomach growling.

"Oh so that was more a cry for help than a suggestion?" the rabbit laughs, cute little nose scrunching up.

"I may be bloody famished, yeah."

"Oh, poor pumpkin. What are you feeling, then?" she asks as she heads off toward the exit, confident as she skates out of his arm's reach.

"Burgers. Maybe steak. Or lamb." Really, he wants an entire barrel of fish and perhaps some apples, but he wants to feed his poor little mate a mouthful of iron supplements more.

"It's lunch time," she laughs at him.

"Burgers, then?"

"Yeah, alright." He helps lower her onto the hall carpet and squats to help her with her laces. "You don't have to do that," she tells him but he just shakes his head at her.

"Want to." She's quiet after that, perhaps a little contemplative. She excuses herself while he returns the skates and when she comes back she smells like the fake, perfumed chemical they coat feminine products in which always sticks to his nose.

Honestly, cunt is supposed to smell like cunt. Even when it smells like a bloody cunt. Humans are fucking ridiculous.

"Hope you know I'm driving you there," John informs as he holds the door for her yet again.

"That doesn't even make any sense," his rabbit laughs. "You're gonna drive me all the way back here before going into work?"

"Might do. Or: new bartender starting today. Might let you be his guinea pig all evening."

"Oh yeah? You trying to loosen my morals?" Her tone is light and airy but something has shuttered behind her eyes.

"No," John's voice is confident but quietly reassuring. "I'm trying to get you all lushed and cute tonight and then maybe try my hand tomorrow when you're charmed and impressed by the breakfast I make. How well you handle a hangover depending," he tacks on with a teasing little wink.

She blinks once, twice.

"That okay?"

"No. Well, yes, but uh -. It's not a good... time."

John just cocks his head at her, knowing full well what she means but needing to hear her say it so he has an excuse to spoil her.

The rabbit sighs, "It's just -. Christ this is embarrassing. If that's your end goal you should maybe know I'm on my period. Just so you don't get your hopes up too much."

"Oh, poor lamb." John's smile is wolfish, the cat that got the cream. "And here I've had you on your feet all morning. Do you want to get lunch? Or would you rather just curl up? I can make you something if you'd rather not stay out."

"No, that's - um. Lunch sounds good, thank you, but uh -. You're not… mad?"

A beat. John's smirk slides slowly off his face. "Mad?"

"I mean, if that was your plan and I'm… you're not upset?"

"No, honey…" John's not entirely sure how to handle this turn. Logistically he knows the first step should be reassurance, but there's a desperate, cloying, insightful little creature in his chest that wants to push all these niceties aside and demand why she would think he was mad. "A man can dream, but I had no expectations. There's nothing to be mad about." She gives him a wan smile and he can't help but continue, "In fact, I oughta give you my mum's number. I ever seem mad about that, you go ahead and tell her to sort me out."

It works, the quiet giggle she lets out has a touch too much relief for his taste, but he'd take that over whatever the hell misplaced anxiety she'd just been exhibiting.

"Can chastise you myself, you know. No mum's needed."

"Oh thank God. Would way rather you do it. She can be proper scary."

"And I can't?"

"Rabbits aren't scary. You ever yell at me, it won't be fear makes me change my ways."

"Not scary? They don't make kids sit on the Easter bunny's lap back home? I still gotta steer clear of malls this time of year."

John grins again, can't help the mental image she's conjured of him having to scare off a man in a pink bunny suit for her. "So I'll have to wait at least a month to spoil you with a shopping trip, noted."

She splutters. "You don't have to do that ever!"

He shrugs, "Told you, want to. Now get in, I'm hungry enough I'd eat you if you held still long enough." When she blanches, scandalized, he can't help but grin.

"Okay, yeah, let's go. But -."

John resolutely doesn't let his smile drop lest she thinks he's mad again, but he can't help the punched out feeling her continued protests elicit.

"- if I'm spending the night, I do definitely need to drive the Jeep to a more anonymous parking lot. That thing gets towed, I'm screwed."

Yes, it sure would be a shame if someone hobbled her speedy little den before she realized she belonged with him. Still, "I'll tell you what. You keep letting me treat you to lunches and dinners and whatever other little excursions we can come up with and I'll let you park at the bar whenever you'd like, hm?"

"What, so I can deal with the noisy neighbors?"

"Have it on good authority the second floor's pretty well sound proofed. You can hang your hat up there if it ever bugs you," he winks. "But fine, go get your bloody buggy. I'll send you the address, yeah?"

Next>>

#bearshifter!price #captain john price x you #captain john price x reader #john price x you #john price x reader #bear!price #fatted rabbit #💷🔪

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remusluvr · 1 year ago

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say it ain't so | steve harrington

summary: Byers reader and Steve's last night together before leaving for California. content: female reader, angst, f oral, sex, no usage of y/n

The bedroom you have lived in for the last eighteen years is nearly completely vacant. All that's left in it is your bed and your duffle bag for the trip. It's weird seeing your once vibrant room so dull.

"I don't like it," you say, crossing your arms as you stand in the doorway whilst Steve is laid out on your bed.

"Neither do I, none of your personality is in here anymore," Steve sighs before proceeding to sit up. You shut the door behind you to go sit with him.

Tomorrow morning you'll be in a car driving to California with your family. There was no other choice for you since you still have your senior year to complete, which means you have to leave Steve behind for nearly an entire year.

Curling yourself into his lap, his arms wrap around you. You two have already discussed visiting each other many times, how he'll fly out to you and you'll fly back to Hawkins to see him. And you and he have already made spring break plans for you to come back to Hawkins for nearly two weeks.

It'll work, you'll work.

Your heart aches at the mere idea of not being able to see him every day, or hear his voice, or visit him at work, or have him climb through your bedroom window so you two can have sleepovers. Usually, Joyce was a lot more strict about sleepovers with significant others but with you leaving tomorrow, it's okay for tonight.

All you want is for this night to never end so you never have to leave Steve.

His hand rakes through your hair as you lay on him, "I'm going to miss you so fucking much."

You're already quite emotional that you have to leave everything and everyone you've ever known and Steve is simultaneously making it worse and better. He turns your face up to look at him and he coos down at you when he notices the tears welling in the corners of your eyes.

"It's just not fair, Stevie. Why can't I just live at your house for the rest of the school year? You can work at the video store, I'll go to school, and then at night, we sleep in the same bed like we live together."

"I know, baby. It's not fair at all. But you'll love California and imagine when I come to visit. We'll drive to the beach and spend the whole day there. Just you and me."

"That'll be nice," you hum. The image is crisp in your mind and you're giddy about it. Steve always knows exactly what you need to hear. "Ah, and then you'll come back to the house and I'll show you my new room. I'm not sure how I want to decorate yet."

"Send me pictures. I wanna see everything you get up to out there."

"That's such a good idea but I don't have a camera," you whine, flopping your head down onto his shoulder. He laughs and moves you off of him. "Where are you going?"

He reaches under the bed where he's hidden your going away present. A camera, a stack of envelopes, paper, pens, and stamps. The perfect concoction for when your relationship is about to go long distance.

"I got myself the same stuff. I expect at least one letter a week and at least five phone calls a day," he proclaims, watching as you smile down into the box. You laugh before setting the box to the side and climbing back to him. "Not an ideal situation by any means but everything will be fine. I promise."

You kiss him from your position in his lap. He kisses back with even more fervor. Your hands drape themselves around his neck as his grab at your hips. Any time you kiss Steve, it makes you dizzy but especially now. When he's putting everything unsaid into this kiss, how could it not?

It hits you as he flips you over onto your back that this is the last time you'll be able to do this in a while. Your lips stutter against his and he pulls back, thumb coming up to rub over them. There's no need to bring down his mood by addressing the elephant in the room. Tonight, you'll just enjoy the fact that he's here.

"So pretty," he whispers, leaning down again for a quick kiss before his thumbs slip just underneath the waistband of your shorts so he can slide them down. He moves slowly, deliberately, so he can savor this moment forever.

And once they're off and thrown to the side, he's laying on the bed between your legs. His lips are like fire on your legs as he kisses a path up to where you want him the most. He won't let you rush him though, making sure to take his sweet ol' time to nip at your inner thighs.

He's cruel with his teasing, fingers ghosting idly over your panties. Pulling down your underwear has his vision glazing over as he focuses in on the very thing he's been planning since the beginning.

"It'll be hard, very hard, to not be able to eat this pussy any time I want," he sighs, leaning in to lick at your clit. You're panting from all this teasing and his words don't help at all. Reaching down, your fingers tangle into his hair, pulling him closer to you. He grins into you, finally giving you what you want.

If there's anything Steve is the best at it is eating you out. He goes to town, sloppy and wet just to make you feel your very best. His lips suction around your clit before moving down to dip his tongue into you. It's world-changing. You don't know how you'll survive months without him.

Your thighs squeeze his head and he moans, letting the vibration move through you. It has your legs shaking as his hands grip at your thighs, keeping them spread enough for him to do his job properly. He loves it though, loves every little thing you do.

"Steve!" you whine, remembering that there are other people in this house but when you're getting the best head of your life, there's bound to be escaped noises. Steve is a cocky boy and you can feel his smile against you. It's boosting his ego knowing you're having this much trouble keeping it down.

You don't even warn him at all before cumming but he knows. Steve always knows. From the clench of your fingers in his hair, to your hips bucking into his face, and your sudden gasp of breath it's not hard to figure out. And he takes everything you give him, watching as you bite down on the pillow beside you so you don't wake the whole house. There's nothing more that he wants right now than to hear you, it's killing him.

He huffs as he settles in next to you, letting you cuddle into him so you can regain some of your breathing.

"Wonder if those cameras do video cause I don't how I'll last without hearing your pretty sounds for so long," he groans, tossing his head back against your headboard. You giggle as you look up at him. You press upward, sucking at his neck whilst you climb into his lap.

"We can always call each other," you whisper directly beside his ear, biting at it for extra measure, "Think I'm getting my own phone for my room."

"P-perfect, baby." He's whining quietly as you continue the assault on his neck, maybe getting too carried away but the look on his face is worth it. There is still a t-shirt and pajama pants on him and while the fabric may feel nice on your bare cunt, you need him out of them immediately.

"Take your shirt off for me, Stevie?" It's off before you can even make it down the bed at all to pull at his pants. He chastises you for teasing but it's no different than what he was doing. "Poor baby, you're so hard."

He's panting and it feels nice to be the one in control of him. Your fingers run over his tip, leaving him to chase your touch.

"Please, put me out of my misery, sweetheart." Smiling at him, you do. His inhale is sharp once he's inside you. You lean your forehead on his shoulder as you get used to him. "You're my lovely girl, god, I love you so much."

He grips onto your hips, helping you bounce on him. All of your confidence faded away as soon as you got what you wanted, turning to mush instead. You just need him to take care of you.

It doesn't take all that long before you're close again, sensitive from your first orgasm. And the way you're clenching around him has right there with you. His lips press messily onto yours as he tries to fight off his impending orgasm so this doesn't have to end. Your hands are glued to the sides of his face and he's never felt this loved.

"Mmpfh, g-gonna cum. W-where you want it?" he groans into your lips.

"Inside please," you whine, grinding down onto him to meet his thrusts, "Please, I want it. I'll get the m-morning-after pill."

It's too much for Steve and he cums with a loud moan that you have to muffle by clamping your hands over his mouth. You don't blame him because you have to bite down on his shoulder as you finish. And when you're both done, he's so drunk off of you that he whines when you get off his lap.

"I don't want you to leave me," Steve frowns as you lay on his chest.

"I know. But I'm not gone forever, you're not losing me." He's still upset and he will be for the next few months as he gets used to it. All he can think about is how much money he's about to make because that's all he'll be doing, work. But he'd be okay with being the poorest man in the world if it meant that you were with him.

"We should get some sleep since you have to be up early," he instructs, trying to be firm and ignore the ache in his chest. Once he's asleep, he'll have to wake up to you leaving him and he's not ready. He'll never be ready and you're not ready but it's what will happen.

"Probably. I love you."

"I love you more."

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notsomania · 1 month ago

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Deltarune theory: Our choices do matter but the characters' don't

First I wanna admit that I personally never liked the cope that "toby fox is lying" when it came to theories. However it seems at least possible that the "there is only one ending" claim isn't fully true.

This is probably gonna sound fandom-y in some parts but it'll probably make more sense as it goes on...

"Your choices don't matter" is a metanarrative plot of the game, not a rule to the player. Here's why...

Do OUR choices not matter?

From the start this game wants you to know that "your choices don't matter". For example, before Chapter 2 was released. This would show up before you download Deltarune Chapter 1:

Then, after giving a name to the vessel you created and yourself, a second voice (who has yet to be identified) trashes it before telling you that "No one can choose who they are in this world".

That's not the last time we're told something like this. After bullying Kris, Susie cuts you off and tells Kris "your choices don't matter".

An important detail about this is that the battle system in Deltarune is different from Undertale's. One of those differences is that when we attack enemies, they'll run away instead of getting killed. Because of this, people assume "your choices don't matter" simply means that the player can't make any long-lasting choices.

But this is NOT the case, because Ralsei tells us that our choices do in fact matter.

So far, the "Your choices don't matter" motif seems comparable to the infamous "kill or be killed" from Undertale.

But if our choices DO matter, then why is the message "your choices don't matter" so relevant in Deltarune?

Because the player's choices do matter. It's the characters' choices that do not.

What Spamton is really about

Spamton is usually associated with the player, and it's reasonable to assume why. He's mainly puppet themed, and he connects the most with Kris.

But this begs the question... how exactly he's getting controlled??

It's not like there is literally another character directly controlling his actions. He clearly has free will.

So then why does he talk like he doesn't? Why does he see himself as a puppet?

Because he doesn't represent being controlled by Kris's soul.

... he represents being controlled by fate itself.

Remember, we were told that no one can choose who they are in this world. He doesn't get to choose to be a "big shot" again. His life fell apart, and he can't do anything about it.

Spamton was written to be doomed from the start.

... So "freedom" must mean the freedom to choose your own life.

Then, after breaking the strings from Spamton NEO, he says something that can actually give you a whole different context on his battle if you look into it. He tells the whole party that they could be strong enough to remove their own strings.

This line wouldn't make sense at all if he was talking about the player's soul. We all know Kris is being directly controlled by US, but Susie and Ralsei aren't. They can do whatever they want...

... Right?

What Gaster represents

Let's talk about the legend now. In Chapter 1, Ralsei tells Kris and Susie that it was foretold by "time and space".

Time and space has been mentioned before in Undertale:

And deltarune.com looked like this in like 2015:

Translation: "THREE HEROES APPEARED TO BANISH ANGEL'S HEAVEN". and "THIS EXPERIMENT SEEMS VERY VERY INTERESTING."

W.D. Gaster told Ralsei this legend.

This confirms (if it hasn't for you already) that Deltarune is an experiment run by Gaster. Furthermore, he's the one who sends us this game in the first place.

It's also strongly implied that he met Jevil and Spamton, and was the reason they have gone insane.

Why does the obvious need to be said? Ralsei says that the legend foretells EXACTLY how your adventure is destined to go, similarly to how Spamton's failure seems destined to happen.

Gaster chooses what happens to everyone in Deltarune, including the main characters.

Again, it is told to us that no one can choose who they are in this world. Gaster is choosing for them.

But why is he doing this?

Could it be because he wants the player to be the only person in Deltarune who can make certain choices? After all, he wants us to play Deltarune. His experiment is the game itself.

That sounds an awful lot like a game developer, huh? It's possible that Gaster is a metaphor for game developers, similarly to how Flowey is a metaphor of the player in Undertale.

That's why Gaster knows exactly what will happen in the heroes' journey. He decided that they will be fated as heroes of a legend.

None of this means the characters aren't real people (in-universe). But it means that everything that happens to them is chosen by Gaster, whether they like it or not.

Except when it's the Snowgrave route, though...

The heroes and the angel

Now that we know the characters can't control what happens, you would think this means the game would only have one route, right?

Except it doesn't. There is a secret alternate route that has DRASTICALLY different events from the main story.

Remember, Ralsei says the prophecy predicts their exact journey, and yet we have the option to make Noelle kill both Berdly and Spamton.

The "your choices don't matter" motto does NOT apply to Noelle nor the player.

In fact, this can be proven by the Spamton NEO battle in this route, in which he tells us himself that this route will in fact give us freedom.

Meaning the alternate route is not supposed to happen on Gaster's part.

So how did we change the story? We know that the soul can apparently hold the fate of the world, but how did Noelle get freedom?

Well, Noelle is a special case of a character. For one, both Queen AND Spamton wanted to use Noelle for their plans. It's implied that she's actually very powerful.

This is further proven by her fatal spell that costs 200% TP if you don't have the Thorn Ring.

This means the alternate route can only happen with Noelle. (sorry... no chapter 3 firegrave lol)

But how does Noelle have freedom, like the player, while others don't?

Because both the player AND Noelle are the "Angel"

(he notably says "angel" twice. could be because both of them are right in front of him...)

This brings me back to Spamton. This is why he got obsessed with the NEO form. He thought it would give him this power to have freedom as well.

This also explains why Spamton used to spend all of his time praying in the basement.

He was praying to become an "angel" like Noelle and the player.

This could also give us an idea on what "Heaven" means. Could Heaven be a place outside of the Deltarune world, such as real life? Or something less dumb than that?

A place where Gaster isn't choosing what happens in his life?

Okay now back to this scene. Even though Spamton finally admits that he'll always be a puppet on strings, he says that the main characters could be strong enough to break their own strings.

What does that mean? Why are Kris, Susie and Ralsei so special?

Maybe because they're the only characters who can act in their free will. That's why they're chosen as the heroes of light.

(For reference, "free will" and "freedom" are two different things. The heroes of light have free will, meaning they could do major actions completely unscripted from Gaster. Noelle and us, the players are angels, which is a character that has the freedom to change fate in Deltarune, even if it goes against what Gaster wants.)

After all, we have seen Kris tear out the player's soul in both ending cutscenes, and do things on their own sometimes...

And Kris isn't even the only one who does things like this. Susie interrupts and even ignores the player multiple times.

These details are why the heroes are the only ones who can stop Gaster from choosing their fates.

Ralsei and the shadow crystal bosses

If each chapter has a character like Jevil and Spamton, then secret boss characters are the result of what happens when Gaster tells Darkners the truth about Deltarune's world. But every time, they go insane.

Except for one.

It's been speculated for some time that Ralsei is hiding something. He is.

As mentioned previously, Gaster has told Ralsei the entire story of the game. That doesn't seem to be all he told him, either. Ralsei is implied to know a lot more than he lets on.

So what is he hiding and why is he hiding it?

It's not obvious, but Ralsei knows just as much as the shadow crystal bosses do. He just hasn't gotten insane from it.

One of the biggest piece of evidence for this is when he suspiciously tells Kris and Susie to ignore everything that Spamton says.

Ralsei clearly doesn't want them to know any of this.

Ralsei is also shown favoring the player over Susie. Especially in Chapter 1. For example, he's completely fine with attacking enemies as long as we're the one who commands them to... but lectures Susie for doing the exact same thing if she's on her own.

In this chapter, Ralsei is in general very open with whatever we choose to do in the game, even though he encourages ACTing and being nice. But he wants Susie to completely go against her nature to act like a "regular hero".

Lastly, he is shown to intentionally let the player make all the choices in scenarios, whereas Susie often doesn't:

He knows that the players exist, so he goes out of his way to let us make all of the important choices.

Of course, none of this means that he's evil and that he doesn't care for Kris and Susie. He admits that he became appreciative of Susie's personality in Chapter 2 and shows signs of realizing the complexity of personalities as a whole.

... However, he still feels the need to treat the player as top priority, while limiting freedom from Susie and himself.

After all, he even admits that he doesn't know what his own personality is like.

Makes you wonder... is Ralsei just being nice to us to encourage playing the game as a pacifist?

Anyway, how did he even learn all of this while staying completely sane, when the other 2 turned into straight up killers?

... Because unlike them, he accepted it.

The difference between Ralsei and these characters is that both Jevil and Spamton reacted by trying to reach what they see as "freedom", while Ralsei does the opposite and strictly follows the legend he was told.

Does Ralsei have to simply accept everything that happens to them in order not to lose his mind, instead of attempting to gain freedom like Jevil and Spamton did?

Ending...?

Yes, it has been said more than once by Toby Fox that Deltarune will only have one ending.

However, if "your choices dont matter" is actually more important to the game's story than we think...

... Mmmmaybe this could be teasing a secret ending in the alt route where we challenge this?

Thanks for reading

#deltarune #deltarune theory #gaster deltarune #gaster #wd gaster #undertale #jevil #spamton #ralsei

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givemea-dam-break · 2 years ago

Note

im a sucker for lockwood x reader angst and i mean angry confessions, miscommunication and the “go ahead and leave then. everyone does, it wouldnt be a surprise if u did too” 😩😩😩

a/n: AHHHHH yes!! i'm so sorry this has taken so long to be written, and the fact I've been inactive for a week or two - it's been assignment week so i needed to focus on that unfortunately, but i hope you enjoy this! angst is my favourite thing to write lol. unfortunately, there's not much miscommunication in this, but i hope I've ticked the other boxes :)

warnings: angst, language gn reader

"Will you say something?"

You keep your head turned, staring out of the night cab's rain-covered window. Your heart is pounding, filled with rage, and you're worried that if you open your mouth, it'll come spilling out and you'll say something you'll either regret or get fired for.

Lockwood was an idiot during your case. He was reckless and impulsive, and it meant that the two of you narrowly finished it with your lives and all of your limbs in good health. You would've forgiven him if it had been a one-off, but he does this almost every single time, and it's becoming a big issue.

So here you sit, arms crossed over your chest as the cab speeds along, biting your tongue. Lockwood sits across from you, watching you with those dark eyes of his while a cut oozes blood on his forehead. Any other day, you would've patched it up immediately, but tonight he'll have to cope. You've had enough.

It doesn't take long to reach Portland Row and the taxi has barely stopped when you jump out and storm off towards the house. Lockwood is delayed a few seconds, having to pay the cabbie, but he catches up easily.

"(name), come on. Talk to me."

Wordlessly, you unlock the front door, half tempted to slam it shut in his face, but this is his house. He's got more right to be here than you.

You make to angrily climb the stairs and hide out in the attic to await Lucy's return and rant to her about Lockwood, but his hand wraps around your wrist as you reach the second step, stopping you.

"Please, (name). I can't stand it."

For a minute, you just stare at him. The blood from his cut has been smeared across his forehead, and the bags under his eyes have become a little more pronounced, but your usual sympathy has disappeared, eaten away by fury.

"What do you want me to say, Lockwood? Oh, it's okay that you almost killed yourself being so reckless tonight. You're my knight in shining armour. Or, how about: I know you promised to be reasonable tonight to make amends for all the other times you've almost killed yourself, and you didn't end up being reasonable, but I forgive you."

He looks at you, his gaze soft. His eyes are desperate, but he's got you talking which was his goal. It seems that the context of the conversation doesn't matter all that much to him.

But you don't care.

"Every single case," you say, trying to keep yourself from raising your voice, "has ended the same. We almost die or get seriously injured because you get reckless. I get it. You're trying to save us, and, believe me, Lockwood, I'm grateful for that, but what would happen if you died? Who would protect us then? Because all of this - you throwing yourself in the face of danger for us - will mean nothing if you die."

"I'm not going to let you guys get hurt," Lockwood says, and there's an undertone in his voice that gives you a clue to how he's feeling. He's getting irritated.

Good.

"And I thank you for that," you say. "But this is constant. Do you ever stop to think what we'd feel if you died? We'd be lost, Lockwood. Not to mention jobless."

"What am I meant to do? Let you get hurt? Not a chance!"

His rising anger is feeding into yours, and soon it'll be a raging fire, ready to burn everything in its wake. You have half a mind to let it loose, to tell him exactly how you feel about his stupidity, but you reign it in for now.

"Don't you hear me? I said I'm grateful that you try to keep us safe, but not at the cost of your own life!" You tear your wrist out of his grasp, breathing heavily. "Just take a minute to imagine this: you die on a case, and we have to deal with the body. We have to watch you die, and then we have to ignore the grief to not only finish the case but also make sure your body is taken away safely, that you're given a funeral. After that, a lifetime of grief and regret and denial, hoping you step through that fucking door one more time! Of all people, I thought you'd know what that kind of thinking does to a person."

His gaze hardens. "Watch yourself."

The laugh that escapes your lips is humourless. "Right, okay. I forgot. We don't talk about that topic because you're not ready, and that's fine. But it'll be me that has the burden when you die. Then George and Lucy will have to figure out how to cope, too. But we don't have a room to hide your memories away in, Lockwood. We live in a house surrounded by you."

You climb up a few stairs and point at a photo on the wall. "These pictures? They can be stashed away, but the feeling of you can't. Your soul has practically been embedded into the walls, the floor, the ceiling. Nowhere we go in this house will allow us to escape the memory of you."

His face is a little red as he watches you. He's angrier than you've ever seen him.

"So leave then."

The words feel like a punch to the stomach. "What?"

"If you're so sick of it, if the thought of my possible death is too much, then leave. Everyone does. It wouldn't surprise me if you did."

It takes all of your willpower not to scream at him. Instead, chest filled with the pressure of your fury, you make your way back down the stairs until you're eye to eye with Lockwood. He's breathing heavily now, too, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he watches you, eyes blazing with anger but also something else... Guilt?

"You don't get to say that," you growl. "I have been here for you since the beginning. I helped you set this company up. I helped you get it licenced, and I was the one who sweet-talked our way into getting full DEPRAC insurance. I have supported every stupid decision you've made. I've questioned you, but I never pushed. And yet, you still have the gall to say that you wouldn't be surprised by me leaving?"

The anger is so strong that tears threaten to cloud your eyes, but you push them down. You will not cry.

"I've tried my hardest to make sure you stay alive." The waver in your voice is embarrassing, but something in Lockwood cracks at the sound of it. "All I do is make sure you stay alive because you're all I've had for years. I've always cared for you. I've sat and patched you up night after night because I care about you - shit, I love you, Lockwood! I always have! So, don't you even dare suggest that I would ever leave. It's as good as insulting my parents' graves."

At that, you turn on your heel and storm up the stairs, leaving Lockwood standing at the bottom.

It takes a while for you to calm down.

After cleaning yourself of all specks of blood and dirt, you change into clean clothes and sink down onto your bed, closing your eyes and trying to slow the thrumming of your heart. Your hands are shaking from a mix of rage and sadness, but they lie on your chest, easing as your heart rate slows.

It takes all of your willpower to try and not think about one of the last things you said to Lockwood - that you love him - but it proves to be harder than it should be. You didn't lie. In your years of knowing Lockwood, you've grown close to him, something that had been hard originally because of your lack of trust in people, but he charmed his way right into your life. Every smile, every touch of your fingers left your heart racing and your mind hoping, begging, that he felt the same.

Now, though, after that argument, you're almost entirely convinced that he doesn't.

When George and Lucy arrive back at the house, you trudge downstairs to the kitchen where everyone awaits to discuss the cases. Lucy's already made you a cup of tea that you accept gratefully as you sit down at the far end of the table.

Away from Lockwood.

The change in your seating is noted by everyone, your usual chair left empty beside Lockwood's at the head of the table. George frowns, glancing between you and Lockwood, and Lucy gives you a look that you ignore.

"It was a phantasm where we were," you say, scribbling away at the thinking cloth. "Well, there was that, and then there was a very angry Wraith as well. Murder victims. We dealt with them quickly."

George's eyes find the plaster on Lockwood's head, much less neatly applied than it would've been had you patched him up.

"Rawbones for us," Lucy says, sipping her tea. There's a patch on the sleeve of her jacket that smokes slightly, burned by plasm. "George found the source - a manky old mug. Made no sense. Skull was no use, either. I think he's mad at me."

"Again?" Lockwood asks. His voice isn't entirely there. "What did you do this time?"

"I didn't do anything. He's just a little prick."

You bite your tongue to stop yourself from making a snide comment. The others are watching you carefully, easily picking up on your mood, but they don't bring it up.

Lockwood's eyes haven't left you this entire time. He's trying to communicate in that silent way you both developed after years of friendship, but you tear your gaze away from his, pushing down the re-emerging fury in your chest.

"Well, we're all alive," Lockwood says, laying emphasis on the final word. "Let's get a good night's sleep. We've got a meeting tomorrow with another client."

Lucy and George get up immediately as if they were waiting for a cue to leave. They're gone in seconds, closing the kitchen door behind them. It makes no difference. You silently sip your tea, still scribbling away. Your little mess of lines has turned into an angry face.

"(name) -"

You stand, making to leave the kitchen with your mug in hand, but Lockwood blocks the door.

Staring up at him, you scowl. "Excuse me, Anthony."

There's a little smirk playing on his lips. "Using my first name? I suppose I am in trouble."

"It's nice that you think this is funny, but I certainly don't. Now, let me get past so I can go to bed. I've had enough of today."

"Please, wait." He looks down at you, his eyes soft. He doesn't seem angry anymore - that makes one of you. "Can we just... talk?"

Against your better judgement, you turn and sit back in your seat, placing one of your feet on the seat and resting your head on your knee. You're tired. Not just from the case, but from being angry.

"I'm sorry, okay?" Lockwood says, and you know he's genuine. "I saw that Wraith coming for you, and I couldn't just stand there and let you get hurt."

You sigh, more exhausted than mad now. "That's not the problem, Lockwood. You do this in every single case, even when there's no need to. Half the time, I'm not sure whether it's because you want to protect us or if it's because you want an excuse to die." Your voice catches a little.

He falters, not expecting that. Part of you wants to feel good about catching him off guard, but the topic quenches any of it. You've spent countless nights worrying that you would get up in the morning only to find Lockwood not there or scared that you'd end a case leaning over his dead body.

No one should ever have to think like that.

"I care about you a lot," you say, running a hand over your face. "You know that. But I don't think it has ever occurred to you how badly it'd affect me if you died. And, I know, I'm being selfish, but I don't want to have to live in a world without you in it."

He's silent for a moment. "I'm sorry - about what I said earlier. I didn't mean it."

You barely have the willpower to shrug. "We were both angry. People say stuff they don't mean when they'd angry."

"So, you don't mean what you said? About loving me?"

It's hard to not look at him, but you focus your gaze on the thinking cloth, tracing the messy writing and doodles with your fingers. There are a few coffee and tea stains covering it.

"I meant it." Your mouth feels dry, so you take another sip of your tea. "I meant everything."

The only sound is of both of your breathing and Lockwood's foot tapping rhythmically on the tiled floor. He's nervous.

"I don't expect you to feel the same," you clarify. "To be honest, I hadn't meant to say it right then. If I had my way, I wouldn't have said it at all unless I was sure you felt the same. But, it's out there now."

Lockwood's chair screeches against the floor and, suddenly, he's kneeling beside you, moving so that he can catch your eyes. That stupid grin of his has parted his lips. His hand grasps yours softly, and you can feel his pulse faintly. It's faster than it should be.

"Don't look so smug," you grumble. "I don't forgive you, so I don't see what you have to be cocky about."

His grin only widens. "I'll show you what."

And then his lips have captured yours.

It's a short kiss, no longer than a few seconds, but it's enough to have your stomach performing a whole gymnastics routine. The anger in your chest slowly fades away until it's nothing but a small prickle, still there but nowhere near as powerful as it was.

His lips are startlingly soft, but, really, you wouldn't put it past him to be applying chapstick every waking second. He always wants to be camera-ready. Your eyes have fluttered shut, and, by the feeling of his lashes brushing your cheeks, it seems his have also. You wonder if his brain is throwing a party, too.

When he pulls away, you find yourself wanting more. Instead, you press your forehead against his, shutting your eyes tightly for a moment.

"If that wasn't enough to convince you to stop being so self-sacrificing on cases, I honestly don't know what will."

He laughs, and the sound has your heart soaring. "I'll try my best, but if you need saving, I'll most definitely come to save you. I am your 'knight in shining armour' after all."

His gaze is already locked on yours when you open your eyes again. The darkness of his eyes entraps you, and it's impossible to look away.

"Will you forgive me?"

A sly smile curves your lips. "Maybe if you kiss me more."

#lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood and co fanfiction #lockwood and co #lockwood and co netflix #anthony lockwood #george karim #lucy carlyle #x reader #fanfiction #givemea-dam-break

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tgmsunmontue · 4 months ago

Text

What to write weekend...?

Same time, same place... Let's get this writing started. If your curious about wordcounts etc. I have a spreadsheet here.

Explanation on how "What to Write Weekend" works and fic descriptions under the read more because it's long... Once you know you know though.

NUMBERS:

Sagas of Solitude 8/? - IceMav with side Hangster AU - angsty Nepo!Baby

Season to Taste 0/? - Professional and Famous Chef Bradley and Naval Aviator Jake Seresin. (Building on this).

CURRENT LETTERS:

A, B, C, D, E, H, I, J, K, L, M

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

If you need it, here's an explanation of how it works:

You pick 1-3 of the above and either:

Message

Send an ask (Anon is on)

with the letters/Numbers of the fic/s you wish would hurry up and get finished/posted already. (Yes, you can pick the same one three times - some of these fics are that close to getting parts/chapters finished that would be enough to tip them over, you also don't have to pick more than one).

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

I WILL WRITE AT LEAST 250 WORDS for each one you pick. I reply to let you know when it is done. I've also started tracking it in a spreadsheet.

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

Numbers indicate fics I am consciously working on updating/completing, and likely have a completion date in mind.

Letters are fics that are often getting completed because people ask for me to work on them through things like this. (I usually do this every weekend).

Doing this keeps me on task and makes me accountable. It stops me from procrastinating and I really appreciate people providing their numbers.

THANK YOU!

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

A) Upon which our souls touch - 3/? - Hangster TGM AU involving dragon riders and shape shifters and fantasy... Seriously, I wouldn't vote for this one because my kids ask about it almost daily so... it gets attention regardless.

B) I'd know you anywhere 2/4?- Bradshaw Twins - Hangster (Tumblr post)

C) To wake, perchance to dream - 3/? - Hangster Jake wakes up in the future, gets a glimpse of what their life could be and then wakes up back right before being called back to Top Gun for the special detachment (e.g. TGM). (Tumblr post and the beginning of the fic)

D) Together or not at all... (SEQUEL) - Hangster - years after Javy/Nat get together they think their best friends (Hangman and Rooster) could maybe try dating each other. It'll either end in disaster or not.

E) Cyclone/Maverick - Cyclone is struggling to deal with being attracted to the most annoying person he's ever met. Why does he like him so much?

H) From the top - 1/? - an Ice/Mav epistolary fic where Jake and Bradley matchmake them, not realising exactly who it is they've matched together.

I) Life is too short to waste time matching socks... 3/? The peach and eggplant socks as an anonymous gift as an incredibly unsubtle hint that someone would like to fuck them. (tumblr idea unspooling here...)

J) Barista Jake who cannot spell Bradley's name. (HERE)

K) Caring, Keeping and Collecting Transformers - A Guide - 5/?Transformers cross-over.

L) Hangster Soulmates, Bodyguard (leftover from the Bingo...)

M) IceMav Florist/Undercover Agent AU (also leftover from Bingo)

#what to write weekend #writing and wrangling woes

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sleekervae · 4 months ago

Text

New York Romantic 1.2

Masterlist

a/n: I'm so so soooo sorry I'm dragging out the date sequence... but I also love a good build up and I hope I did them justice! And I promise that the actual date is next!

pairing: Tom Blyth x ballerina!oc

summary: the seagull

word count: 4,943

taglist: @watercolorskyy @carolanns-world @alana4610

"Tom, how many hours did you sleep last night? Quickly," Tom glanced up at the call of his name, finding Marcelline standing over him with her phone.

"Are you filming me?" he asked plainly.

"Yeah! We're gonna look back on this when we're in fourth year!" she replied ecstatically, "How many hours did you sleep last night? C'mon!"

Tom was taken aback at first, his mind blanking out before he stuttered a quick, "Erm -- six?"

Marcelline's face fell into shocked dismay, dropping her camera lens and turning around, "What the f-- how are all the guys sleeping better than us!?" she shouted to another classmate, Kathy.

"Because men don't fret like women do," she replied.

"Hey! Brian got three hours!" another student pointed out.

While Tom managed about six hours of sleep, it wasn't exactly the kind of rest that left him feeling refreshed and ready to take on the world. Instead, it was a restless, fragmented slumber filled with half-formed dreams about missed cues and forgotten lines. He'd spent most of the night tossing and turning, his mind running a relentless marathon of overthinking. Every detail of the day ahead looped through his brain: rehearsals, costume fittings, the potential pitfalls of his performance.

An hour on the phone with his mom before bed had been both a blessing and a curse. She was her usual buoyant self, overflowing with encouragement and excitement, "You're going to be brilliant! I just know it!" she'd said, her voice brimming with pride. Tom could almost see her smiling on the other end of the line, her enthusiasm a bright beacon in his otherwise cloudy thoughts. She'd wished him all the best for his show and reminded him how much she was looking forward to having him back home in England. One more week and he'd be on a plane again...

As he got ready that morning, he tried to shake off the lingering drowsiness. The mirror reflected a version of himself that looked more frazzled than he'd like to admit. Dark circles underscored his eyes, a testament to his lack of rest, but there was a spark there too—a determination to push through the fatigue and give the performance of his life.

He packed his bag with a meticulousness that bordered on obsessive, double-checking that he had everything he needed for the day. Script, check. Costume, check. Snacks to last the day, check. With each item he ticked off his mental list, he felt a tiny surge of control in the midst of the chaos.

Sunny's performance review was the following Monday, so he had the luxury of staying home that morning. He lounged on the couch, feet up, looking more relaxed than Tom had ever felt in his life. That being said, he wish Tom luck and told him he'd catch him at the show. Just as Tom was about to leave, Sunny stopped him and tossed him a small bottle of cologne, "Trust me, you'll want this for your date,"

Tom caught it, barely. "Thanks, I think?" he read the Jo Malone label with intrigue, "Basil & Neroli..."

"It'll make a better impression than just deodorant," Sunny assured him.

Tom stuffed the cologne in his bag, feeling a bit overwhelmed by Sunny's thoughtfulness, but grateful nevertheless, "Seriously, thanks mate,"

"Go knock 'em dead," Sunny said, waving him off, "And remember, the date's about having fun. Don't overthink it!"

With a final nod, Tom stepped into the hallway and nearly collided with Noelle. She emerged from her door at the exact same moment, wearing a navy mini dress sprinkled with delicate white flowers. A light white cardigan draped over her shoulders, her hair cascading in long, soft waves that framed her face. The white trim on her black backpack coordinated nicely with her converse sneakers, and there were little white berettes clipped at the sides of her hair that added a lovely touch of innocence and charm.

Tom felt his breath catch. This was a far cry from her usual ballet attire which was clean, sleek and perfectly packaged. She looked relaxed, fresh, and irresistibly sweet. Every time Tom thought Noelle couldn't be any cuter, she somehow managed to surpass his expectations.

"Hey," he greeted, his voice betraying his admiration.

"Hi," she replied, a shy smile curving her lips.

He couldn't help but stare, feeling like a giddy schoolboy, "You look... wonderful,"

Her cheeks flushed a delicate pink, "Thanks. You don't look too bad yourself,"

"Thank you,"

They started walking to the stairwell, slower than usual to a fault, "So... are you excited?" she asked.

"For what?" a teasing smile tugged at his lips.

She shrugged shyly, "For tonight,"

"What part of tonight?" he asked, his nerves easing a bit, "There's a lot happening tonight!" he laughed as she rolled her eyes.

Noelle shook her head with a candid smile, "And I'm personally excited for all of it," she said.

"Me too," now, if he could just make it through the next twelve hours with peace and calm...

They hit the lobby and immediately heard the sound of sticking and cutting, they were both curious and dismayed to find Doris putting up 'DO NOT ENTER' tape over the elevator doors. She was mumbling under her breath, only pausing when she turned and found Tom and Noelle watching her.

"Elevator's out of commission," she simply said, "Don't ask,"

With an uncertain glower Noelle looked to Tom, who simply shrugged back as they started for the doors and wished Doris a good day. The older woman was so frustrated and annoyed with her renovations plans, she was none the wiser to the palpable energy between the pair.

The ride to school was nothing remarkable—New Yorkers squeezed together like sardines, the air thick and unmoving. Noelle and Tom managed to snag the last two seats at the back of the bus, a comfortable silence settling between them.

Tom turned to her, curiosity piqued. "So, when did Daniel give you the ticket?" he asked.

Noelle shook her head, her expression softening into a smile, "He didn't."

Tom blinked, confused, "Then how did you get your ticket?"

Her eyes sparkled with mischief and excitement, "Stanis is a magician," she replied, her smile widening.

Tom didn't press for more details; there was still a part of him that found Stanis intimidating. He could very well imagine Stanis being involved in a high society crime syndicate, the type where he knew dirt on everybody and would use it to his advantage. So instead, Tom settled back in his seat, smiling to himself as Noelle locked her pinky around his, the simple gesture filling him with warmth.

And that was how Tom found himself here: sitting on the cold auditorium stage floor, watching his castmates run through their final rehearsals. The memory of her finger wrapped around his was still fresh in his mind, a welcome reassurance that he could push his nerves down. The bustling energy around him, the snippets of dialogue floating through the air, all of it seemed more manageable with the thought of Noelle in the audience, her presence a comforting anchor.

As he tried to focus on his lines, a familiar voice broke through his thoughts.

"Jordan! How many hours did you sleep?" Marcelline's voice carried across the auditorium.

Tom couldn't help but snicker to himself as Jordan forced himself to look up at the camera, a dry, tired glare crossing his face.

"Eight," Jordan answered bluntly, his voice tinged with irritation. Somehow, it still didn't look like enough for Jordan.

Tom's amusement was short-lived as he realized his own exhaustion mirrored Jordan's. The final rehearsal was proving to be as challenging as he'd anticipated, but the thought of Noelle watching him perform kept him going. He straightened up, ready to dive back into his role, determined to give it his all.

In the dressing room, the tension wrapped around Bianca like a suffocating shroud. She meticulously adjusted the layers of her costume, her movements sharp with a lingering resentment she refused to acknowledge. As Iseul delicately applied makeup nearby, she ventured cautiously once more into the fraught silence.

"You've been awfully quiet all day," she noted, carefully applying her eyeliner in the mirror.

Bianca scoffed back, "I've had a lot to do today," she replied simply, "Stanis doesn't have just one star pupil, after all,"

At that, Iseul put her liner down, turning to her friend with a concerned scowl, “Bianca, I know how close you are with Noelle,” she began, her voice gentle but firm, “but do you think there might be a part of you that’s feeling… maybe a little jealous?”

Bianca froze mid-adjustment, her brows knitting together defensively, “Jealous? No way,” she retorted, her tone sharp with denial, “Why the hell should I be jealous of her?”

Iseul sighed softly, sensing Bianca’s resistance. “It’s okay to feel that way, Bianca. It happens between friends, more often than you think. But maybe… maybe you’re projecting your fears onto her?”

Bianca shook her head adamantly, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her features. “I’m not projecting anything,” she insisted, her voice wavering slightly. “I'm not afraid of anything, either. I'm a friggin' ballerina in New York City for Christ sake...” her voice trailed off, the unspoken fears lingering heavy in the air.

Iseul reached out, placing a comforting hand on Bianca’s arm. “Bianca, listen. Noelle’s not you. She feels things more, she had a lot of compassion for people. I'm not saying you don't!" she held up a finger before Bianca could interrupt. "But... even you've admitted you can be intense, and stressed. And we know how stressed you've been since getting this part --"

"What is your point, Iseul?" Bianca finally asked, "We have like -- ten minutes before we have to be on stage!"

"I know!"

"So get to the fucking point!"

"Don't be so mean to Noelle! And lighten up about Tom," she told her.

Bianca scoffed, "And what does Tom have to do with anything?"

"Noelle told me what you said about him. How he's no good for her? For the record I completely disagree, but... Maybe you think that because you're jealous of her? You're jealous of what they have?" she reasoned gently, “Maybe instead of antagonizing her, you could talk to her. Tell her how you're feeling, truly,”

Bianca hesitated, her emotions a tumultuous storm inside her, “I'm not jealous, Iseul. I'm just... I'm so sick of everything coming so easily to Noelle!” she admitted quietly, her eyes avoiding Iseul’s gaze, “She's got a great body, flawless hair, everybody loves her -- even friggin' Stanis! And why not me? Why can't I be that likeable? Why can't the guy that I like just pay attention to me and not to her?"

Iseul’s heart ached for her friend, seeing the vulnerability beneath Bianca’s facade of strength, “Bianca, of course people like you! We're your friends!” she reassured softly, “But to be honest... you can be really bitchy sometimes, and just really unapproachable. And if that's the way you've been feeling then maybe you should talk to Noelle about it? Just be honest with her! She'll definitely understand!”

"Will she? How could Little Miss Perfect possibly understand?" she rolled her eyes.

Iseul cocked a brow, "What perfect? She gets zits and period cramps just like we do. She farts and burns her food just like us. Her parents are deadbeats who probably don't even give her a second thought. And she had to miss this recital because she got really sick, and you got her part! So really -- how perfect is her life?"

"You're not gonna' guilt me, Iseul!" Bianca snapped, "I worked just as hard for Giselle as she did!"

"I'm not trying to guilt you, Bianca!" Iseul snapped back, "I just want you to chill! You and Noelle have been best friends since kindergarten, and you know she has your back! You don't need to be threatened by her!"

Bianca nodded slowly, her thoughts swirling with conflicting emotions, “I guess so,” she murmured finally, a mixture of resentment and determination simmering beneath the surface.

As they finished preparing for the performance, Bianca’s heart was still heavy with unspoken fears and unresolved feelings. Deep down, she knew she needed to confront the truth she had been avoiding: the fear of losing herself in Noelle's shadow, losing her to someone who might not understand her as deeply as Bianca did. Yet, amidst the swirl of emotions, Bianca clung to her denial, unwilling to admit the jealousy that gnawed at her heart.

Just as the tense silence settled between them, a knock on the dressing room door broke the moment. Startled, Iseul turned to see a delivery person holding a bouquet of vibrant red roses, a card nestled among the blooms.

"I've got a bouquet delivery for Iseul Jeong," he announced. Iseul's surprise was palpable as she accepted the flowers.

"Oh my gosh, thank you!" the delivery man took off with a curt nod and Iseul settled back in her chair, both girls adamant and curious as she read the note.

“Dear Iseul, good luck on your performance tonight! Wish I could be there in person, but I already know you're going to kill it! All the best... your secret admirer? I've got a secret admirer!” Iseul exclaimed softly, her cheeks tinged pink with pleasure.

Bianca’s gaze flickered to the roses, her irritation simmering beneath the surface as she averted her eyes. The timing of the gesture felt like a cruel twist of the knife, a reminder of her own tangled emotions. She busied herself with her makeup, her thoughts a turbulent storm of envy and uncertainty.

As Iseul admired the flowers, a faint smile playing on her lips, Bianca wrestled with her inner turmoil. She knew she needed to confront Noelle, to voice her fears and concerns. Yet, as she watched Iseul’s delighted reaction, a part of her couldn’t help but resent the happiness that seemed just out of her reach.

The auditorium hummed with the low murmur of excited conversations, the anticipation of the upcoming ballet recital palpable in the air. Noelle and her family settled into their seats, Franca fussing with Chiara's hair and trying to fix her slightly smudged makeup. And ever in her teenage angst, Chiara batted her away like a bratty cat. Noelle, however, was only half paying attention. Her eyes kept darting to the illuminated face of her watch, or she would double check that she had her ticket in her purse.

In another part of the campus, Tom was in the final stages of preparing for his performance. The backstage area was a flurry of activity as actors milled about, doing vocal exercises and stretches. Tom adjusted his costume, the stiff collar and unfamiliar fabric feeling both thrilling and constricting.

He glanced at the mirror, taking in the reflection of himself as Boris Trigorin. Excitement bubbled in his chest, mingling with a gnawing apprehension. He could hear snippets of lines and bursts of laughter from his castmates, their warmups filling the air with a kind of chaotic energy. Tom’s fingers tapped nervously against his script, the worn pages a comforting anchor amidst the chaos.

Back in the auditorium, Franca leaned over, her voice coming in a whisper "Are you feeling alright? Do you want to stand up before the show?” Franca’s voice was a soft but frantic hum in the background as Noelle’s gaze flicked to her watch again.

"I'm fine, Franca. Don't worry," Noelle smiled reassuringly.

The house lights dimmed, signaling the start of the performance. Noelle’s heart pounded, not only from the excitement of seeing her friends dance but also from the anticipation of what lay ahead with Tom. She forced herself to focus on the stage as the first notes of the orchestra swelled, the curtains parting to reveal the dancers.

Tom, meanwhile, took a deep breath, the finality of the upcoming performance settling in. He moved to join his fellow actors, feeling the camaraderie as they wished each other luck. The scent of greasepaint and the soft rustle of costumes created a familiar backdrop to his growing nerves.

As the ballet began, Noelle’s eyes flickered between the graceful movements on stage and the persistent ticking of her watch. Her friends twirled and leaped with ethereal beauty, their dedication evident in every precise step. Noelle felt a pang of pride and longing, wishing she could fully immerse herself in the moment but knowing that her mind was already halfway to Tom’s show.

Despite the tremendous music, Maurice could still hear Chiara's nails tapping away over her phone. She was texting furiously. With aloof dismay, he leaned over, his voice barely a whisper as he scolded her, "Put the phone away, Chiara. Security's gonna think you're filming," Chiara sighed dramatically beside them, clearly unimpressed, but Noelle remained oblivious, her thoughts far away.

As Noelle watched Bianca gracefully glide across the stage, her emotions swirled like a tempestuous sea. Pride welled up within her, a fierce joy that threatened to overflow as she witnessed her friend's flawless execution of each pirouette and arabesque. Yet, beneath the surface, a trace of lingering resentment lingered from their recent argument. Despite the saltiness tainting her admiration, Noelle couldn't deny the admiration she felt for Bianca's talent and dedication, her heart swelling with conflicting emotions as she applauded vigorously at the performance's end.

Sunny sat in the dimly lit theatre, his anticipation palpable as he waited for the play to begin. His fingers twitched with nervous energy, but he was anxious as his phone buzzed discreetly in his pocket. Retrieving it, he read the confirmation text: his flower bouquet had been delivered anonymously. The gesture warmed his heart, and he couldn’t suppress a giddy smile as he imagined Iseul's surprise and -- hopefully -- delight. He hoped she wouldn't think she had a crazy stalker or anything. Adjusting in his seat, Sunny glanced around the theatre, his excitement growing as the lights dimmed and the stage came to life.

Tom’s turn on stage was fast approaching. He joined the others in a circle, their whispered encouragements a soothing balm to his nerves. His mind wandered briefly to Noelle, imagining her in the audience, her presence a steadying force. He straightened his costume one last time, taking another deep breath.

As the ballet performance reached its crescendo, Noelle’s eyes met her watch once more. It was almost time. She leaned over to Franca, whispering her plan to slip out quietly. Franca nodded, giving her a reassuring squeeze.

Noelle rose from her seat, her heart pounding with a mix of emotions. She cast one last look at her friends on stage, then slipped out of the auditorium, her steps quickening with purpose.

Tom stood in the wings, the stage lights casting long shadows. The call for his scene came, and he moved forward, his heart racing with a mix of excitement and apprehension. Somewhere out there, he knew Noelle was making her way to support him, and the thought filled him with a surge of confidence.

As he stepped onto the stage, the world seemed to fall away, leaving only the performance and the promise of seeing Noelle after the final bow.

Noelle slowed her pace to a cautious jog, mindful of her surgeon’s warnings against strenuous activity, including running. She focused on reaching the theater without pushing herself too far into discomfort. The new auditorium for the theater kids was more accessible this time, and she navigated towards it with determination, her purse clutched tightly as if afraid her ticket might escape.

Arriving breathless, Noelle found the door attendant in the process of closing up. Her lungs protested the exertion, legs already sore from the brief jog. She managed to catch her breath enough to hand over her ticket, which the attendant glanced at briefly before nodding her through the entrance. The theatre was already dark, the actors already on stage opening up the scene when Noelle ducked in. She skimmed along the wall and finding one in a handful of empty seats in the back row.

Just as she sat down, Tom stepped onto the stage, his heart racing with a mix of nerves and excitement. The auditorium stretched before him, a sea of expectant faces shimmering under the soft glow of stage lights. His gaze flickered across the audience, searching, hoping to catch a glimpse of Noelle.

"In this tranquil setting," he began, his voice steady and resonant, "where the lake whispers secrets to the wind, I find solace in the embrace of nature's beauty."

Marcelline, embodying Nina's youthful admiration, approached him with eagerness, "Boris, tell me of your latest story. Your words weave magic in my mind."

Tom, as Trigorin, smiled warmly at Marcelline, his eyes reflecting the character's depth of experience. "Ah, Nina," he replied, "your enthusiasm is a balm to my soul. I draw inspiration from the simplest of moments, the fleeting whispers of life."

Jordan, portraying Konstantin, interjected with a hint of resentment. "Your stories, Boris, they enchant Nina and the world. But do they speak of truth or mere fantasies?"

Tom met Jordan's gaze, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Ah, Konstantin," he mused, "the artist's eternal dilemma. Truth, illusion—perhaps they are two sides of the same coin, perceived differently by each soul."

The other actors, fully immersed in their roles, engaged in a lively discussion that echoed Chekhov's exploration of art and existence. Tom's performance carried the weight of Trigorin's introspective nature, his voice resonating with the character's complexities.

Throughout the scene, Tom's eyes darted to the audience between lines, silently hoping to spot Noelle among them. His performance, a delicate dance of words and emotions, captured the essence of Chekhov's themes while his heart beat in anticipation of her presence.

Noelle sat in the dimly lit auditorium, her gaze fixed on the stage where Tom, transformed into Trigorin, held court with his eloquent words and charismatic presence. The play's dialogue floated through the air, mingling with the soft rustling of the audience and the occasional cough. Yet, for Noelle, all peripheral sounds faded into insignificance as she watched him.

Tom's voice resonated with a depth that captivated her, each word a brushstroke painting vivid images in her mind. His eyes, usually warm and inviting in their everyday encounters, now held a new intensity—a reflection of Trigorin's conflicted soul. She noticed the subtle shifts in his expression, the way he leaned forward in earnest engagement with his fellow actors, and the graceful gestures that punctuated his dialogue.

As Trigorin, Tom embodied a blend of charm and vulnerability that stirred something deep within Noelle. It wasn't just the character he portrayed but the essence of Tom himself, laid bare on stage. She felt drawn to him in ways she hadn't fully acknowledged before, his presence enveloping her thoughts and emotions with an undeniable allure.

In the darkness of the auditorium, surrounded by the unfolding drama and the palpable energy of the performance, Noelle's heart beat in sync with the rhythm of the play. She couldn't tear her eyes away from Tom, each fleeting glance he cast towards the audience igniting a flutter of anticipation in her chest. The distance between them seemed both vast and infinitesimal, a tension she struggled to define yet couldn't deny.

Noelle's fingers curled around the armrest of her seat, her breath catching in moments of poignant dialogue that resonated with her own inner turmoil. She watched Tom with a mixture of admiration and longing, the lines between reality and fiction blurring as she found herself caught in the spell he wove with every word and gesture.

She glanced around the theater, noticing the rapt attention of the audience, but her focus remained on Tom. In that moment, watching him embody Trigorin's complexity, she couldn't deny the magnetic pull he exerted on her heart. Each word, each gesture only deepened her admiration and affection for him.

And then finally, finally, Tom saw her. As his gaze settled on Noelle, a soft smile touched his lips, and he delivered his line with an intensity that resonated with his own emotions:

"Amidst the chaos of life's stage, a solitary figure emerges—a beacon of serenity in a sea of tumult...."

The words carried a dual meaning, echoing both the character's sentiment and his personal recognition of Noelle's presence; a calming presence amidst the nerves and anticipation of the performance. He was doing so well, he was so close and he would be at the end.

On stage, Bianca's movements were fluid and precise, each step echoing the rhythm of the music pulsing through the theater. As she pirouetted and leaped, her eyes occasionally strayed to the audience, seeking a familiar face. Amidst the sea of spectators, she caught sight of Noelle's family—her aunt adjusting her seat, her uncle leaning forward with interest. But Noelle's absence was palpable, a void in the audience that Bianca couldn't help but feel keenly.

A flicker of disappointment crossed her features, mingled with a hint of resentment that tightened her movements, infusing her dance with an unexpected intensity. She pushed through, channeling her emotions into each graceful arc and turn, determined to make her performance memorable despite the absence that weighed on her heart.

The final curtain fell with a hushed finality, the stage bathed in the glow of the overhead lights. The audience erupted into a thunderous standing ovation, hands clapping in unison as cheers filled the air. Backstage, the cast of gathered, their faces glowing with relief and pride. Tom stood among them, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He ran back on stage to take a final bow with his cast mates, so overwhelmed and grateful for the reception.

Amidst the celebration, Tom's gaze found Noelle in the audience. Her eyes sparkled with pride as she clapped enthusiastically, a radiant smile lighting up her face. Their eyes locked briefly, a silent exchange of shared joy and accomplishment passing between them. Tom's heart swelled with happiness, knowing that he had not only impressed the audience but also earned Noelle's admiration.

As the curtain fell and applause thundered through the theater, Tom found himself swept up in a whirlwind of backstage activity. He exchanged quick hugs and high-fives with Marcelline, Jordan, and the rest of the cast, their faces alight with exhilaration and relief. The adrenaline from the performance surged through him, keeping fatigue at bay as they navigated the maze of corridors backstage.

They reached the dressing rooms amidst laughter and excited chatter, the air thick with the lingering euphoria of a successful show. Tom sank into a vanity chair, his legs trembling with lingering nerves and the lingering rush of performing. His costume felt like a second skin, a reminder of the character he had just inhabited, and he couldn't help but replay moments of the play in his mind.

"Tom! Group photo!" Marcelline's voice broke through his reverie, pulling him back to the present. He pushed himself up with a smile, joining the cast for a photo that captured their shared triumph. Flashbulbs popped as they posed, their faces still flushed with the heat of the performance.

As the theater buzzed with post-show excitement, Tom stood near his dressing room, scanning the crowd with anticipation. Amidst the throng of well-wishers and fellow actors, he spotted Sunny weaving through the crowd, a wide grin plastered on his face. Sunny approached with his characteristic exuberance, arms outstretched in a gesture of camaraderie.

"Mate!" Sunny exclaimed, pulling Tom into a quick but heartfelt hug, "You killed it out there! Seriously, the whole audience was eating it up."

Tom laughed, returning Sunny's embrace briefly before pulling back to meet his friend's enthusiastic gaze. "Really?"

"Yeah! Fuck'n move over, Dicaprio!" Sunny clapped Tom on the shoulder, nodding towards the dispersing crowd, "You were incredible. And hey," he added with a wink, "I reckon someone else agrees with me," Sunny nodded subtly towards the hallway where Noelle stood, her presence a beacon amidst the backstage chaos.

Tom followed Sunny's gaze, his heartbeat quickening at the sight of her. Noelle's eyes met his across the room, her smile radiant and genuine. She approached them with a grace that seemed to quiet the bustling energy around them, her focus solely on Tom.

Noelle moved gracefully through the bustling crowd, her steps echoing just behind Tom's. As she approached, a rush of excitement and pride filled her chest. When Tom turned to face her, she couldn't contain her joy. With a playful squeak, she threw her arms around him, feeling his warm embrace as he lifted her off her feet for a brief moment. His presence, neroli oil mixed with the faint scent of his costume, enveloped her, filling her senses with a blend of musk and the lingering energy of the performance.

"Oh my gosh, Tom!" she murmured against his shoulder, her voice barely above a whisper but filled with sincerity, "You were incredible!"

He chuckled softly, "Thank you, Noelle," he replied, his breath warm against her hair, "I'm so happy you could make it!"

"I wouldn't miss it for anything," she said softly, her fingers brushing lightly against his as they stood close together, "You're always worth the wait,"

Tom's smile widened, his gaze softening as he squeezed her hand gently, "And you make every moment special," he replied, his voice filled with quiet sincerity.

In that fleeting moment, amid the buzz of the crowd and the shared euphoria of the evening, Noelle felt a comforting warmth envelop her. As she locked eyes with Tom, a silent giddiness passed between them, a taste of whatever adventures lay ahead for them for the night...

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