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lumelii · 3 years ago

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BREAKING IN ~|~ FUSHIGURO TOJI X FEM!READER

Summary: Your business partner and you are celebrating the end of a difficult project. Lucky you.

Content Warning: nsfw, smut, fwb situation, FEM!READER established "relationship", dilf!Toji, face fucking, slight degradation, face slapping (just once) (if I forgot any let me know)

Note: Big thank you to Moni and @shokami for being my guinea pigs on this one.

Word Count: 5.1k

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There were few things Toji liked about traveling for work. He liked seeing new places. He hated long plane rides. Hotels were nice, but sleeping on the mattresses for too long wreaked havoc on his back. He enjoyed making new business connections. Most importantly, however, he hated leaving his kids for long periods.

They were on his mind now, as he checked his phone periodically through the business party he was attending, celebrating the completion of another building Fushiguro Design Group had planned and engineered, this time in New York City. It was almost time for them to go to school in Tokyo, usually one of them called before they left so he knew they were up. His finger paused over the home phone contact for a moment before he put it away with a sigh. Megumi and Tsumiki were both teenagers now, almost in high school. They didn’t need him hovering all the time.

“Congratulations on another success, Mr. Fushiguro.” One of the executives of the company who contracted the firm came up to shake his hand. “You really outdid yourself this time.”

“It was a group effort.” His eyes searched the room, hoping to find a distraction to get him out of this conversation before he put his foot in his mouth. He didn’t deal with clients, he had employees who did that. He wasn’t great at curtailing his frustrations when in conversation. Especially with this client, who changed their design at least four times, which meant he had to redo all the math. Four times.

Luckily, his distraction came just a few seconds later as his phone began to ring. Looking at the caller ID, he felt a wave of relief seeing his home phone number. At least that meant one of the kids was up. He wasn’t counting on Gojou.

“Please excuse me.” Toji stepped away and walked out onto the balcony just off the ballroom, closing the door securely behind him before answering.

“DAD!” He held the phone away from his ear just slightly when Tsumiki yelled even before he said hello. He brought it back to his ear once he was sure his eardrum wouldn’t be ruptured.

“Good morning to you too, princess.” He answered sarcastically. “How are you? Getting ready for school?”

“Megumi stole my notebook again!”

“I did NOT!” Toji heard Megumi yell in the background.

“It had my homework in it! If I don’t get it back, the teacher is going to dock points!”

“Did you already look in your backpack? Everywhere in your room?”

“No, because Megumi took it!”

“Princess, look in your backpack and your room first. If you can’t find it, have Gojou help you. Now give the phone to Megumi.”

He heard her huff and set the receiver down, yelling for Megumi to get on the phone. A few moments later, the receiver was picked up again. This time, Megumi’s voice. “Hi Dad.”

“I swear to god, Megumi, if you have her notebook and you’re lying about it just to bother her—” Toji warned.

“I’m NOT!” He yelled again. “I was over at Yuuji’s house last night anyway, why would I need her homework when we did ours together?”

“Why weren’t you home last night?” Toji’s eyes narrowed even though his son couldn’t see him. “It’s a school night.”

“Yuuji and I were working on homework. Plus his neighbor made sweets. She sent some home with me. I’ll save you some. Are you coming home soon?” His tone was hopeful. It made Toji’s chest hurt. He missed his family.

“I’m going to be on the first flight back tomorrow morning, I promise.” Toji told him. “Are you ready for school?”

“Not yet. I can’t find my slacks.”

“Look on the right side of your closet, they’re probably in there. Where’s Gojou? Can you put him on the phone?”

“I think he’s still sleeping.” The phone was set down again, and Toji had to wait what felt like forever until he finally heard Gojou grumbling on the other end of the line.

“G’morning sunshine.” He yawned. “What’s up?”

“Are you aware the kids are ready to tear each other’s throats out?” Toji frowned. “And why are you still sleeping? They’re almost ready to leave for school.”

“Kento was on the phone late last night freaking out, I had to calm him down.” Gojou stifled a yawn again. “I made sure they have their breakfast and their school stuff is ready.”

“Tsumiki’s missing her notebook.”

“It was in the living room last I saw, I’ll make sure one of the dogs didn’t take it.”

“I KNEW IT!” Tsumiki screeched in the background.

“Shit, I have to go, Toji. Call later.”

The line went dead before Toji could ask any questions. He looked down at his lock screen with a frown, debating on calling back but ultimately deciding against it while he put his phone away. He would call later once both kids were at school, and keep an eye out for breaking news of fratricide in Tokyo.

He looked to the balcony doors when they opened, relaxing slightly when he saw his preferred distraction walking out with two drinks in hand.

You closed the door behind you before walking up to him, holding out his favorite, an Old Fashioned. “I thought I’d find you out here.”

He took the proffered drink and downed it in one gulp while you sipped your Gibson carefully. “Am I that predictable?”

“When it comes to these kinds of parties, yes. Either you were about to lose your temper and needed a breather, or you had to take a call.” You answered. “Problems at home?”

Toji shook his head. “Just wish we were back.”

“It’s been a month. I can’t wait to get back to Tokyo. No matter what anyone says, no one can beat Tokyo ramen.” You leaned your elbows on the balcony railing. He leaned next to you, copying your pose while you both looked over the glittering New York skyline in silence.

“Why don’t we focus on projects at home for a while?” You offered. “Or in Japan, at least. That way we wouldn’t have to be gone for too long, you’d still be able to go home at night.”

“We have some pretty big clients lined up in Dubai and Europe. I don’t think they’d want to wait until we felt like traveling again.”

“You’re the boss. If you don’t want to go, you don’t have to.” You reminded him with a smile. “I can take someone else with me, then send the specs once we’re done. I’ll even let you pick your stand-in.”

“I’ll pick my stand-in whether you like them or not.” He smirked before continuing. “I’m the boss.”

You rolled your eyes and took another drink. “Just don’t make it fucking Ren. I can’t stand that asswipe.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He promised.

The conversation wasn’t typical between a boss and employee, but you were more than that. You were partners at the firm, Toji was just the one in charge. You’d built the firm together from the ground up, making it the success it was today.

He had come to you, needing an architect for his own firm back when it was only an idea, offering two-hundred million yen out of his personal coffers as an incentive. But it wasn’t the money that had made you say yes. It was the almost maniacal determination in his eyes. He had something to prove, and he would burn the world to the ground to do it.

You learned later his wife had just died a few weeks prior, and it was part of his promise to her on her deathbed that he follow through with his plan of opening his firm. You’d been with him since the beginning, in the early days where you both spent countless sleepless nights completing projects other firms only dared to take on, through the intervention staged by his two closest friends Nanami Kento and Gojou Satoru, as Toji became consumed by his work as a way to suppress his grief, to the point where his son almost didn’t recognize him when he came home. You’d been by his side through the boom of success that befell the firm just a few short years after its founding, along with the money that soon flooded both your pockets, and his second “marriage” to a model he met at a film festival, who promptly disappeared after moving her daughter into his home. He had been surprisingly calm through the whole ordeal, submitting the paperwork to make Tsumiki his own once they were completely certain her mother was never coming back, with a hefty cash incentive and NDA to tie it with a nice bow.

He’d been through a fair amount with you as well, dealing with toxic family that had come out of the woodwork as the company started to increase your wealth, demanding money for so-called “investments” they had made into you by providing basic care until you finally left at fifteen. Through the sudden death of your fiancé, where Toji was the only one who could understand and help you navigate through the unending darkness that consumed your life for almost a year afterwards. He’d ignored some of your questionable choices as you tried to adjust to your new normal, but also was not afraid to step in when necessary if the choices turned destructive. You had thought it was just to protect the interest of the firm, but when he had come to your apartment after a sobbing phone call on the anniversary of your fiancé’s death and held you so you wouldn’t feel so alone, you knew it was because he cared about you.

“Are you ready to go back inside?” You asked after watching the sunset sink below the horizon, breaking you both out of your reflection.

“I’d rather drive an ice pick through my skull.” He admitted.

You laughed, the sound echoing off the glass windows and empty air around you. “We could always dip.”

“Wouldn’t they be offended, us leaving early?” He turned to face you with one hand on the railing. You ignored the way his suit jacket strained against the hard planes of his chest.

“Mari’s in there, it’ll be fine.” You said, referring to your project manager. “She loves people. She’ll have them eating out of the palm of her hand.”

“If you say so.” He took the empty glass from you, setting it on the railing before taking your hand to thread it through his arm. “Shall we?”

“Lead the way.”

You made a hasty exit from the party, repeating your excuse of an early flight at least a dozen times so no one would hinder your escape. No one bothered to ask follow-up questions. If they had, they might have found out you were flying private back to Tokyo, and the plane could leave whenever you goddamn pleased, obliterating your excuse.

Luckily, the lie held until you were safely in the cab of an elevator, heading up to the floor that held your two hotel rooms. The company had offered the two massive adjacent suites to you both, taking up an entire floor of the newly constructed hotel. Toji probably could have brought his kids if he had wanted, but he didn’t want to pull them out of school for that long. You were happy to have the entire suite to yourself. It meant you didn’t have to listen to neighbors through all hours of the night, and you didn’t have to worry about keeping anyone up when working late at night.

“The flight leaves at six tomorrow morning.” Toji told you as you stepped off onto your floor. “There’s going to be a car to pick us up an hour before.”

“Did you already send your bags with the service?” You stopped just outside your door, directly across the hall from Toji’s.

He nodded. “I saw yours were ready, I had them sent as well.”

“Thank you.” You looked behind your shoulder to your door then back at him, his hands in his pockets, watching you like he was expecting you to say something else. He looked downright sinful in his all-black designer suit, his normally straight hair styled back with hair gel but still looking soft to the touch. The watch that cost more than most people’s houses glinted in the warm light of the hallway as he played with his cufflinks, also worth a small fortune. You would know. You bought them.

He quirked his eyebrow at your examination, almost like a challenge. Damn him.

“Do you want to come in for a nightcap?”

A slow smile spread across his face. “I thought you would never ask.”

You smiled back and turned to the door, inserting your keycard to hear the small click of the lock disengaging, slipping inside with him closely following. “We haven’t broken in this one, yet.”

He was on you before you had the chance to slip out of your shoes. Maybe it was the alcohol that gave him a sense of urgency, the sweet bourbon still on his lips as they slid over yours with a practiced ease, or that you had an early flight in the morning and needed as much sleep as possible to prevent jet lag. If it were the latter, this was definitely not the activity to be participating in.

These liaisons only happened on trips, or late nights at the office or your apartment, where there would be no prying eyes. You both didn’t need questions. It was fulfilling a primal desire, one that burned within you even as both your hearts were locked by grief. There was an understanding. You cared for him, and he for you, but not in a romantic way. You were making sure the needs of a friend were met.

The “breaking in” was also a tradition as well, ever since your first major deal had been completed. When the building was finally complete for a major project, you and Toji would sneak off somewhere to do the deed, christening the building like a bottle of champagne before a ship’s maiden voyage. It had started as a joke, a way to release the pent-up stress that resulted from design and construction but eventually became a tradition. As the business grew over the years, you and Toji had christened well over a hundred completed projects with none the wiser.

You pushed his suit jacket off his shoulders before moving your hands between your fused bodies to start undoing the buttons of his shirt, working quickly in the tight space as Toji didn’t allow you any room to pull away. You struggled to focus while his kisses moved down to your chin and then your neck, licking and sucking the skin with reckless abandon. You let out a breathy moan as he bit your pulse point with a low growl feeling your heartbeat thrum beneath his teeth. Toji pushed your hands away when his shirt was finally on the floor behind him. He grabbed your face between his hands bringing your attention back to him to kiss you. Ever the multitasker, his tongue explored your mouth while he began his task of getting you naked.

“Don’t rip the dress.” You warned under his kiss while his large hands grappled for the zipper. “I borrowed it, it has to be in perfect condition.”

“I’ll buy Mei Mei a new one.” Gripping the top of the dress with a hand on each size of the zipper, he yanked hard, the fabric splitting like he had just ripped a sheet of paper as it fell off your body. His eyes went wide as the dress pooled at your feet, revealing the matching black lace set you had underneath. The cups barely contained your breasts and did little to cover your most delicate areas, nipples peeking through the sheer fabric.

“Fucking hell.” He breathed.

You grinned and kneeled in front of him, starting to undo the buckle of his pants. “Paris paid off, then?”

A sigh fell past his lips as you finally pulled his pants and boxers down, wasting no time to wrap your hand around his thick cock, pumping languidly. His breath hitched as you licked his angry red tip slowly, pulling back to prevent him from pushing past your lips when his hips moved forward. His hand went to the crown of your head, tangling his fingers in your hair. “Shit. You’ve been saving that since Paris?”

“I’ve worn this plenty before. You’ve just never seen it.” Your smirk was devilish. His grip on your hair tightened as you took him to the base, neatly trimmed hair tickling your nose while you forced your throat to relax. You tried to gather as much spit as you could to make the glide easier as you bobbed your head. Toji was a large man with an equally large and impressive dick, almost too much for you to take in. Through years of practice, both on him and several inferior specimens, you had learned just how to hollow your cheeks, how to move, and how to swallow to have a man cumming in minutes flat.

“Fuck, you okay?” He panted when he thrust involuntarily, hitting the back of your throat and making you gag slightly. Once you composed yourself, you hummed around his cock and nodded. Grabbing his other free hand, you placed it on the back of your head with his other one before taking him back down your throat. A silent invitation.

He wasted no time responding, beginning to thrust into your mouth with no reserve. You grabbed his hips to steady yourself as you relaxed and remembered to breathe through your nose. Tears ran down your cheeks while he choked you with his massive cock, mixing with your mascara and staining your skin black. The salty tang of precum hit your tongue, mixing with the saliva that fell from your lips the faster he moved. You smiled around his cock when you cupped his balls, squeezing just enough for him to let out a loud groan.

“Stop.” He growled, pulling you off him and tilting your chin up. He took in your tear-streaked face, your chin and neck covered with a mix of saliva and pre-cum. When he dragged his thumb over your bottom lip, you caught it between your teeth, sucking him in and lavving the digit with your tongue. He chuckled darkly, hooking his thumb in your mouth and using it as a guide for you to stand up in front of him.

“Messy doll.” He crooned. You had to admit, you were shocked as he leaned forward and licked up your neck, tasting both of you on your skin. While you were distracted with his sinful lips, you heard another distinct ripping sound before you felt the cool air of the room against your bare ass. You broke away and looked down to see your panties in tatters on the ground.

“Can you at least leave one piece of my clothing intact tonight?” You frowned at him, your voice slightly hoarse from his antics. “Those were expensive. I know we’re made of money now, but I’d prefer not to spend it all.”

He ignored you and reached around to plant a firm smack on your cheeks. “In the bedroom. On the bed.”

You knew exactly what he meant, but you decided to have a bit of fun as you walked through the massive suite. You could feel his eyes on you, almost predatory when you entered the bedroom and caught sight of the king-sized bed, made with fresh linens and piled high with pillows, accented in the light greys and blacks that matched the rest of the suite. You flopped down on the bed with a giggle, back down, and propped yourself up on your elbows to look at him.

He frowned at your position as he walked forward. “I said on the bed.” He rumbled.

“I am on the bed.” You played dumb and cocked your head to the side. “What did you mean?”

He shook his head and stopped at the edge, towering over you. “You’re such a brat sometimes, you know that?”

“It’s a nice break from those girls that call you daddy, isn’t it?” You purred.

The growl that ripped through his chest made your heart jump and another wave of arousal coat your lips as he surged forward, gripping your hips to flip you onto your stomach and pull them up so you were on your knees, your throbbing center level with his cock. He ground against you, slipping his length along your drenched labia to coat it, the glide easy as your spit mixed with your slick. He was more than ready to pound into you.

When you tried to prop yourself up on your elbows, he put a hand on your neck and pushed you down so your face was pressed into the mattress. A shiver ran down your spine when you felt his hot breath on your back and trailing up as he bent over you to whisper in your ear.

“You know, I was going to be nice, maybe take it slow at first so you wouldn’t be absolutely wrecked sitting for fourteen hours on our flight tomorrow.” He hummed. “But now, I think I’m going to like seeing you squirm.”

It wasn’t even a second later before he slammed into your pussy, the stretch almost painful as you wailed at the intrusion and he began a brutal pace that rivaled his speed while he was fucking your face just moments before. You were already sopping wet from sucking his dick earlier, turned on beyond belief as you thought about what lay in store for you after he was done with your mouth being his personal fleshlight.

“Shit, you’re so tight.” He hissed, spanking your ass to feel you clench around his dick. “No one can stretch this cunt as good as I can, can they? You need a fat cock to satisfy you, those skinny dicks can’t even get you wet.”

You moaned an affirmative, playing along with his narrative as he pistoned his hips into you. You could feel every vein on him as they dragged along your walls, his tip hitting that soft spot inside you with every thrust. There were plenty of other dicks that had gotten you wet, but it was true his was the most impressive, and the one that had more knowledge of just how to make you scream, monster dick or not. He had that advantage over every other man you slept with.

The slap of his hips against yours echoed through the cavernous room as Toji grabbed your upper arms, pulling them behind your back and forcing your back in arch, his thrust becoming more shallow but no less punishing. You bit your lip to control the noises you were making, but whines still escaped.

When the new position didn’t produce his desired response from you, he released your arms without any ceremony causing your upper body to fall limp back to the bed. You gasped as Toji pressed his hips flush to yours, curling his body on top of yours with one powerful arm wrapped around your waist to keep you from pulling away while his tip continually massaged your g-spot with every roll of his hips into you.

“Tell me how it feels.” He murmured in your ear, his voice steady without any sign of effort. His stamina was something to marvel.

“You know how it feels.” You moaned back, unable to control yourself. You were so close, just ready to reach that peak if he would only speed up. You reached back with one hand and gripped his hip hoping that would encourage him to resume his previous pace.

He took your hand from his hip and put it back near your head, delivering a harsh smack to your ass. The sharp sting of pleasure was what you needed for your back to arch, squeezing around him while you fucked yourself back onto his cock to prolong your climax as much as you could.

Toji pulled out as you finally slowed down, his heavy cock bouncing against his leg as he sat up against the headboard and patted his thigh, signaling for you to climb on. You wasted no time in doing so, raising yourself on shaky legs to straddle his lap. His hands moved to cup your ass as you settled over him, taking his length in hand and sinking down onto it with a sharp exhale through your nose. You could almost feel him in your throat in this position, the stretch still borderline uncomfortable even after he had already stretched you out, coupled with the sensitivity of just having orgasmed.

His gentle grip turned hard just as you were about to start bouncing to stop your movements. You gave him a confused look but understood when his hands started to guide you in grinding on his lap. The added friction on your clit against his pelvis made you sigh in pleasure, just a tinge of overstimulation creeping through the tightness already building in your stomach again. In this position with the lack of harsh movements he was able to play with your breasts, which he always gave proper worship.

His large hands made your breasts look small as he covered the left, slipping your nipple between his fingers and rolling it while he cupped the other, pushing it up and licking at the flesh. You sighed at the rough texture of the scar marring his lips against your sensitive skin and wrapped your arms around his head, tangling your fingers in his hair to hold him close. He loved to tease, licking and sucking all around your breasts until you were about to beg, arching your back further into his touch. You hated begging him, hated admitting how well he could affect you. But you had known each other for so long, you knew each other better than anyone else.

You whined as his lips finally closed around the pert bud, laying the flat of his tongue over the sensitive skin. You felt his lips stretch into a smile against your skin at your vocalizations before he moved to your other breast, immediately latching onto the nipple to produce a breathy moan. You knew he was enjoying himself from the way his hips matched each roll of your own, driving deeper as he got lost in the feeling.

“I got your milkies.” You whispered, part of your sinister trick to bring him back to earth. You were starved for actual friction, grinding not providing the drag on your insides you craved.

He pulled back with a soft pop and frowned, though his pupils were still blown out. “You did not just say that.”

You shrugged. “I thought it was funny.”

“Way to kill the mood.” He mumbled, pushing your breasts together to bury his face between them, licking through your cleavage and up your chest.

“Then why are you still hard?” You squeezed down on him deliberately. His eyes grew dark as he looked up at you through thick lashes and you knew you were in for it.

With one quick movement you were under him, back pressed into the pillows while he kneeled between your legs still holding your waist so he could stay buried inside you, your hips tilted so you were at an angle. You struggled to sit up trying to resume your previous position, but his strong hold on you didn’t allow you any room before he continued burying himself in your velvet walls. You could barely breathe from the force of his thrusts, twice as hard as before but just as fast.

You could have killed him from how composed he looked as he watched you slowly lose control. He watched you with an almost curious expression, studying how your brow drew together and short gasps fell past your lips while he was barely breaking a sweat. You refused to give him the satisfaction of hearing your moans. If he wanted them, he’d have to earn them.

“I know you like taking it from the back, but I think I like this better.” He mused, voice even like he wasn’t balls deep in your cunt. “I can see the look on your face when you lose control.”

“Fuck you, Toji.” You gasped, your words stuttering with each of his thrusts.

“No, that’s your job.” He grinned devilishly and bent down over you, resting on his elbows. “Scream for me, little slut. Let the floors around us know how good I fuck.”

You opened your mouth to retort but a loud scream came out instead as Toji sneaked his hand between you to roll your clit between two fingers. You barely felt his breath on your skin as you shattered beneath him, screaming just like he wanted as your orgasm crashed over you, ten times as intense as the one he had just given you. You gripped the pillow under your head and turned your face into it so he couldn’t see just how much you were enjoying this.

In an instant, you felt the pillow ripped from beneath your head and his hand come into contact with your cheek. The sting of his slap was dulled by the pleasure still running over your body as he gripped your chin tightly in one of his large hands, forcing you to look in his eyes, your noses almost touching. Your eyebrows knit together and mouth open on a silent moan made him finally push as far in as he could on a final thrust, painting your inner walls white with his cum as he groaned loudly. The roll of his hips didn’t stop until he deposited every last drop within you, until you could feel his cum leaking out the sides of his dick. How could he cum so fucking much?

His hands turned gentle as he pulled out, smoothing your hair off your sweaty forehead and tracing his fingers over the hickeys he’d left on your neck. He bent down to ghost his lips on your hairline before hauling himself off the bed and walking toward the bathroom. You could faintly hear him rummaging around through your post-coital fog, coming back with a warm damp towel and starting the task of cleaning you up.

While he did, he grabbed the phone from the room and dialed room service, ordering two meals, along with ice cream at your insistence, billing it to his room. Not that it mattered, you were staying here on your host’s dime. When he was done cleaning you, he laid on his side next to you, smiling down fondly as you still tried to catch your breath.

“You did good.” He whispered, caressing your face. You managed a weak smile and laughed.

“Don’t get soft on me now, Fushiguro.” You sighed. “I might just lose respect for you.”

He smiled down at you, basking in the afterglow of your liaison. “Wouldn’t dream of it, doll.”

Tags: @oikawaandkuroostan, @gummy-dummy

#growing pains #fushiguro toji #fushiguro megumi #fushiguro tsumiki #toji x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk fanfic

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skzsauce01 · 3 years ago

Text

Magnets

Synopsis: Opposites attract. 1950s AU. Takes place before Love Letters but can be read as a stand alone.

Warning: smoking, misogyny, slut-shaming

Word Count: 1.6k

Pairing: fem cheerleader!reader x greaser!unspecified Stray Kids member; fem cheerleader!reader x football player!unspecified Stray Kids member

There’s something about summer that changes people. They loosen up, become even prettier, and come back to school with a sense of assuredness. Or at least you did last summer. You figured out what styles were in, learned how to do your hair, and started wearing cherry red lipstick. He couldn’t stop staring at you, especially when you smiled with your pearly white teeth.

“Stop that!” you laughed, swatting his arm. “I’m still me, just with better clothes now.”

“I’ve just never seen you like this. It’s so weird now without your overall dress things.”

You playfully shook your head, the ends of your curls bouncing from the movement. “Ugh, some best friend you are. Just tell me I look nice and leave it at that. Also, they’re called pinafores.”

He didn’t care what they were called, only that you traded them in for fuzzy sweaters and skirts that flared at the hips. You didn’t look like the girl who brought her stuffed animals with her everywhere anymore. You looked like you belonged on a movie screen.

So this year he resolves to make you feel the same way. While you stay home for the summer, he goes on a road trip with his family. He thinks about you the entire time, from a tiny diner in the middle of nowhere to a dock overlooking the ocean. When he gets back, he has for you five souvenir handkerchiefs, all from different states. All he can imagine is how flustered you will be by his sun-highlighted hair and new broad shoulders when you answer the front door.

Instead, you give him a quick smile and place the handkerchiefs onto an end table without even looking at them. You’re late for a movie with friends, you tell him, as you carefully smooth out the wrinkles in your skirt. When he offers to give you a ride, you shake your head and bid him goodbye. You practically push him back into his car.

“You sure you don’t want a ride?” he asks as he opens the driver’s seat. You didn’t say a single word about his summer transformation. “I don’t have any plans tonight, so it’s fine by me.”

“Yes, I’m sure. I’ll see you at school then, okay? Tell your parents I said hi. Okay, bye.”

He reluctantly drives off but stops at the corner. In the rearview mirror, he catches you hurrying down the street to where a black convertible is parked. Even from this far away, he can tell it’s a greaser’s car.

What are you doing with a greaser?

As he stealthily follows you up to the mountain road nicknamed Lover’s Lane, he knows.

When school resumes again, you keep to your friends, not even trying to talk to him even though you’ve been friends since you were kids. He tries though. He even accepts the football coach’s offer to join the team because he knows you’ll be cheering at each game. But when he asks if you want to go to the diner after the football game, you look at him with confusion.

“You don’t even like football.”

“I joined the team this year. Coach thinks I can be a good quarterback. Might even go to state.” He rolls his shoulders back, showing off his new muscles in his tight shirt. You don’t even blink. “Aren’t you a cheerleader?” he teases. “Shouldn’t you know what the football team’s up to?”

“Me and the girls usually go out somewhere after, so I’ll probably be busy. Sorry.” You give him a small smile. “Anyway, I’ve got practice now. And I guess you do too.”

“Are you free on the weekend? We can get burgers or something.”

“I have to study and finish homework. There’s going to be a math test soon.”

“When are you free then?”

“I don't really know. I gotta go or else I’ll be late. See you tomorrow.”

Before you can run too far off, he asks, “Why are you avoiding me?”

You look taken aback momentarily, but then you sigh and furtively look around. You stay where you are, folding your arms across your chest. “Look, we’re in high school now. Things are different. If I’m around you all the time, people will think we’re dating. I mean, people have already asked me that. They’ve been asking since freshman year.”

“Is that such a bad thing? It’s not like you have a boyfriend or anything.”

You go still. He waits for you to confess that you actually do and that you’re sorry for hiding it from him, but you only shake your head. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t like you like that. I’m tired of giving them the wrong idea and being asked every day, so just… just don’t talk to me anymore, okay? We’re still friends.”

Friends. That’s all he will be to you, but the prospect of not even being in your life is even worse. “That’s so dumb! Forget everyone else.”

“You don't understand,” you say through gritted teeth. “They’re saying stuff about me, calling me a tease and a slu—” You break off there and cradle yourself, looking down at the floor. “Never mind, just…”

He balls and unballs his fists. He’d bet anything it’s that no-good greaser. “Who’s saying that? Give me a name, and I’ll take care of it.”

“It doesn’t matter.” You take a step back. “We can’t hang out or talk anymore, okay? I really need to go now. I’m late.”

He skips practice that day, choosing instead to head to the garage where the greasers usually hang. As expected, the greaser — your sleazeball of a boyfriend, he angrily thinks to himself — is in the middle of the group. All heads turn to look at him when he enters the room.

“Hey, look who’s here. Mr. Quarterback,” the sleaze drawls. He takes a drag from his cigarette, smirking all the while. “Hit your head too much or what? This isn’t the football field.”

“Get bent, you dog,” he spits out. “I know you said those things about Y/N. You’re pathetic, you know that?”

The greaser flinches. “Who?”

“She’s on the cheer team. Don’t play dumb.” He decides to leave out the part where you’re dating him; he’ll protect your secret at least. “You’ve been calling her a tease.”

“If people are saying it, it must be true,” snickers someone in a too-large jacket. “I mean, just look at her—”

“Shut up,” the greaser commands as he flicks cigarette ash towards his friend. “You’ve been giving me a headache with all your blabbing. As for you, Mr. Quarterback, you’re out of your mind if you think I care enough about someone like her to go around gossipping like some housewife. So, scram or I’ll make sure you’ll never play again.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I don’t care what you believe. Just get outta my garage.”

He does what he’s told, feeling humiliated as he walks back outside. The greaser didn’t sound like he was lying. In fact, he sounded like he was about to flip his lid when he found out.

A few days later, he finds out that the greaser did just that. The head cheerleader’s car is keyed and its tires slashed, and a baseball player comes to school with a broken arm. The rumors about you die down, and the new hot topic becomes the upcoming dance. You look more relaxed than he has seen you all month. Slowly, you begin taking the initiative to start conversations with him. No matter how many times he asks though, you always refuse to go to the diner or to the drive-in with him.

“You don’t have to feel bad for me,” you tell him as you look away from another cheerleader sharing a kiss with her boyfriend. “You should be going on actual dates with someone. Like, oh I don’t know, the girl who sits next to you in physics. She keeps making eyes at you during class. I swear, you’re the only one who can’t see how big of a crush she’s got on you.”

He shrugs. “She’s not really my type.”

“Then what’s your type?”

Preppy cheerleaders who love strawberry milkshakes and wear cherry lipstick. Girls who wore pinafores and carried a teddy bear around when they were five. Best friends who unfortunately only remain best friends.

“I don’t know,” he lamely replies.

“Go ask her out then. Maybe you’ll end up liking her.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

You swat his arm with your textbook. “You’re such a square, you know that? C’mon. The bell’s gonna ring soon.”

While you head to the back where your desk is, he slides into his own assigned seat in the middle. The girl next to him says hello with a smile, and he gives her a small one in return. She nearly swoons. When class begins, he can feel her eyes darting back and forth between the board and him. You were right about him being oblivious. How did he not notice this before?

This week’s lesson is about magnets, and he’s hit with the hard realization why he can never be with you. No wonder you ended with a greaser. Opposites attract, and your boyfriend is about as opposite as can be compared to you. You’re the girl next door. Meanwhile, your greaser wears leather jackets, drag races in his souped-up convertible, and chain smokes cigarettes.

With his button downs and a promise of getting a letterman, he’s too much like you; that’s why you don’t want him. He can be in your orbit, trying his hardest to touch you, but you’ll always keep him at a distance.

When the bell rings, he turns to the girl sitting beside him. She pushes her thick glasses higher on her nose as she struggles to pick up all four of the books on her desk.

He places his hand on top of the pile. “Do you have a date to the dance next week?”

~ ad.gray

To all those sent in requests for our anniversary, we’re still working on them! There will be a later announcement post about it, so stay tuned. Thank you for your patience!

#stray kids #skz #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids x reader #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz fanfic #skz x reader #stray kids au #skz au #greaser au #20210722

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9layerdevilfoodcake · 4 years ago

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

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

Word count: 3.3k

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your lover? Boyfriend? Mutual sufferer in eternal purgatory?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You just shake your head in dismissal.

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

“No”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“While they’re taking pictures of it.”

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

“Deal”

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

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

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

“Do you hear that?”

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

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

“All of them?”

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

“Hey! You guys should see this”

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

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

Something big must be happening.

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

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

“Oh no did Belinda Carlyle die?!”

“No...not yet anyway”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I guess we’ll find out soon enough”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you too”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The lake where you died.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Without a moments hesitation you take off towards its source.

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

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

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

“No I’m fine, are you ok?”

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

“You too?”

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

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

“we should find the others.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just trust me it’s important.”

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

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

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

“This is the entrance to Camp Redwood.”

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

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

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

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

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

Deciding not to waste more time getting upset he proceeds.

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

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

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

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

“...now I’m not...”

“and I feel fine”

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

Tagging this supporting queen: @guiltyfiend

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

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ask-them-bois · 3 years ago

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Of Monsters and Matriarchs, pt 1/3

TLDR: Musrio has a talk with Oliver and the ancestors.

TW: None

~~~~~~~~ Musrio knew exactly what god had chosen to shove its bulge up his wastechute and fuck him over when he’d walked into Scarbucks to see none other than Oliver fucking Maddel standing at the counter, chatting amicably with the barista.

The sun had only just set, so the coffeehive was nearly empty, and Oliver turned her head at the sound of the dongshouter above the door ringing. Musrio froze on the spot, despite Oliver being unable to see him. As he watched, a small, knowing smile spread across Oliver’s face, and the rustblood knew beyond doubt that Oliver knew exactly who stood behind her.

“Good morning, Almawt.” He said politely.

Musrio said nothing, rooted to the spot by his surprise. After a moment, he shook himself out of it, magic springing to his palms as he braced himself for the oliveblood to make a move. And since Oliver couldn’t see him, he flipped them the finger.

Oliver seemed unperturbed by his silence. “I was hoping to come across you soon, you know. I didn’t realize it would be now, but, ah well. Better now than never, darling. Come, order your drink, on me. We should talk.”

“What makes you think I want to talk to you?” Musrio scowled.

“Oh, I know you don’t want to, but I think you and I need to. Just give me ten minutes, darling.”

“I’d rather eat glass. Ribbit.” Musrio spat.

Oliver tittered, taking her drink from the barista. “With the amount of venom you ingest, would that even do anything?” She inquired, turning to fully face him. “Five minutes, then? That’s all I’m asking for. Perhaps we can set some of our grievances aside.”

Musrio narrowed his eyes, understandably suspicious. Oliver tisked, shaking his head.

“Well, I’ll be over here if you change your mind. Darling, put this man’s drink on my tab.” They said, talking to the barista over their shoulder, before they turned and headed for a booth far away from the other patrons, their cane clicking against the floor.

Musrio strongly considered turning around and walking back out. His feet were burning with the urge. At the very least, he was going to get what he came for, though. He approached the counter and gave them his order; a black coffee with as much espresso they were legally allowed to give him, and whipped cream.

It came out rather quickly, and he took it to the personalization station, watching Oliver out of the corner of his eye the entire time.

The oliveblood had taken a seat, and was tapping on his palmhusk, an earpiece reading out his claw’s placement on the screen as his purse and cane laid on the bench beside him.

Musrio reached into his robe, to his satchel, and removed a vial of a viscous, clear fluid. He splashed a healthy amount into the coffee and stirred it, before pouring in a few packs of sugar. He turned towards the oliveblood again, debating himself silently for several seconds.

Finally, he approached the booth, and wordlessly slid into the opposing bench.

Oliver didn’t look up from her palmhusk, but she smiled. “So glad you decided to join me, darling.”

“Five minutes starts now.” Musrio said pointedly.

Oliver hummed, flicking tabs away on their palmhusk before closing it down and setting it aside. “Indeed.” They knitted their fingers together, resting their chin on them. Even with their eyes covered, Musrio got the impression Oliver was staring him down. “We have quite the history together, don’t we, Almawt?”

“No, we don’t.”

“Oh, but we do. Perhaps not directly, but we shared one very important troll.”

“We didn’t share them; you took them away and gave me back the broken pieces. Ribbit.” Musrio snapped.

“If that is how you remember it, darling, sure.” She hurried on as Musrio opened his mouth to speak, “You know, it’s quite funny. I don’t even know what you look like, darling, yet this… animosity has grown so dark between us, that even I am blinded by it. I am thankful that I am a phoenix, so that I might have a chance to cut through the murk with a gracing light.”

Musrio scoffed. “What are you getting at, Oliver?”

“I am getting at your surrender, Musrio.” Oliver said bluntly, his smile suddenly dropped.

“My what?”

“I am asking you politely, and once: I ask that you surrender your side now, before this gets messy and trolls get hurt. I don’t care if you join me or not, but simply… stop fighting. There’s no way you can win- you see that, don’t you?”

Musrio’s claws dug into his palms as he curled his hands into fists. “Trolls are going to get hurt regardless, Oliver- you’re planning a fucking genocide! Ribbit!”

Oliver sighed, shaking his head. “Sacrifices must be made, for the good of-”

“The only troll this would be good for is you.” Musrio cut them off.

“Darling, please. Surely someone as logical as you can see how the odds are stacked? On my side, I have the entirety of the Black Hand- nearly three hundred strong- BB, the Enforcer, and the Bladepen.

You have a drunk, a chef, a pair of broken batteries, a pair of mangy mutts, a gardener, a rancher, a madman, a chronically sick child, a philosopher, a retired soldier, and a failure.” She listed them off like she’d practiced this. “That’s not even to mention those of us who are undecided, such as the Hounding, the mutant reds, and the dear prince. Your side is mere has-beens and broken trolls, darling. I am offering you a chance to surrender with grace, rather than see them all culled.”

Musrio took a deep gulp of coffee in hostile silence, setting his cup down with force. “That’s where you’re wrong, Oliver.” He said, his voice dark. “I “have” nothing. I didn’t ask for any of this. I didn’t ask for demons and shifter-beasts and robots. I didn’t ask for soldiers and thieves. They took a good look at the fight you’re trying to start, and chose to back up the one troll you seem afraid of. Ribbit.”

Oliver scoffed. “I’m not afraid of you, Musrio.”

“Then why are we having this discussion?” The rustblood demanded, “If you aren’t afraid, why meet me like this?”

“Because I, platonically, pity you, darling. Watching this all go down is like watching a warren of hop-beast grubs try to fight a howl-beast. Frankly, it’s depressing that the Infinite Scapegrace thought you were a suitable rival to strengthen me.”

Musrio’s mouth opened in shock. “You think that’s what this is? Ribbit?” He hissed, “That I’m some big obstacle your god put in your way to test your mettle?”

Oliver tipped his head. “Of course, darling. Why else would you be so inferior, yet so maddeningly annoying?” Musrio growled, low in his chest, and Oliver raised her hands in surrender. “No offense.”

“Oh, all offenses taken.” Musrio snapped. He slid out of the booth, standing up. “I think I’m done here. I’m not surrendering, Oliver. That’s not a fucking option anymore. I don’t give a damn about you, your god, or even this piece of shit world, but I do give a rat’s ass about the fact that you collectively ruined my fucking life. Ribbit. Fuck you, fuck the Black Hand, and fuck Neviserrath.” Oliver tensed in his seat, “I didn’t ask for this. All I fucking wanted was to be a professor and marry my partner. But since you ruined that, since you started this bullshit and I got no say in my participation, I’m going to put an end to it. Ribbit!”

He spat out the final croak, snatched up his coffee, and stormed out.

It took the entirety of the twenty minute walk down to the docks for him to calm down. He called Drayco as soon as he was a few blocks away from the coffeehive and told them everything that had happened.

“Holy shit, babe.” Was Drayco’s response, “Are you okay?”

“No.”

“I’m sorry, Mush.” The bronzeblood sighed, “I… I don’t know what to do or say. This all started because of m-”

“Don’t, Dee.” Musrio said forcefully, before his dropped into an almost uncharacteristic softness, “This isn’t your fault. It’s Oliver’s. You know that. Ribbit.”

“… Yeah, I know.”

“This will be over soon, Dee, and we can put this all behind us. We just need to find Lucina.”

“Are you headed to them now?”

“Yeah. I’d just stopped off to get a drink.”

He heard Drayco suck in a sharp, gurgling breath. “Well, good luck, then. Call me after and tell me how it goes.”

“I will.”

“Okay. I love you, Mushy.”

“I love you, too. Ribbit.”

Musrio hung up as he approached the docks, and ascended the ramp of the Warshark. Standing on the deck, smoking a cigarette, was the Ruthless Deepbite.

He let out his breath, smoke streaming from his mouth and gills.

“They’re all waitin’ in the dinin’ block fer ya, lad.”

Musrio paused, looking up at the violetblood. “You know what this is about, don’t you?”

Ruthless nodded, the haunted and exhausted look in his eyes, for once, slightly alleviated by the faintest spark of hope. “Aye. There’s only one color left.” He looked out towards the water, his tattered fins flickering. “Krakyn wanted ta be here fer this, but he can’t come this close ta shore.” He said.

“You can tell him about this afterwards. Ribbit.”

“Aye.” Ruthless dropped the butt and crushed it under his boot, before he turned and headed for the hatch. “Come on, then.”

He hauled open the hatch, and let Musrio into the bowls of the ancient ship.

Down the corridor, Ruthless let him into a large room that once crammed a crew of four dozen trolls into tables to eat.

Now, only the Incoding, the Innocent, the Decaying, the Deadscar Wanderer, and, inexplicably, the Hounding and Ashhur, sat around a table, the former sat on the opposite end of the two latter. They all looked up as Musrio and Ruthless Deepbite entered.

“Welcome, young Almawt.” Innocent signed politely.

“Hi. Thank you all for coming.” Musrio nodded. Awkwardly, he took a seat at the head of the table, while Ruthless took a seat between his morails. Taking a sip of his coffee, he cleared his throat. “I… suppose you’re all wondering why I called you here.” He internally cringed at saying such a cliché line. “Well…” He took a deep breath, trying to settle his sudden onset of nerves; he’d never been in a room with so many adults before. “I’ve got a lot to explain.”

Knocking back another gulp of poisoned coffee, the adults were silent as Musrio launched into the story; his death, his revival, his title as the second harbinger, the Black Hand, Neviserrath Apocriyna, the chosen child, the ritual, Oliver’s goal, and his mission. He spoke for over an hour without pause, leaving nothing out as he explained the reasons for their revivals, and why he’d needed them in the first place.

“… and now,” He said, his throat beginning to ache from talking for so long, “we’ve come down to the final color: Jade. Ribbit.”

Musrio watched Innocent and Incoding’s eyes slide directly to Ruthless.

The large seadweller swallowed. “But ya’ve tried a hundred times ta bring her back, lad. Nothin’s worked.”

“That’s the thing.” Musrio shifted in his seat, “The Hierophant came to me, and told me why we’d been failing.” He leaned forward, “Ruthless, your wife isn’t dead.”

A very loud silence fell as the violetblood’s face went slack with disbelief. “… She…?” He tried to speak, his voice faint. Slowly, he began to shake his head. “No, no, that can’t be right! She died in my arms! I watched-”

Musrio held up a hand to stop him. “I’m not denying that she died. She did. Ribbit. But she came back, long before I ever even hatched. She’s a rainbow drinker, Ruthless, and she’s waiting for us, somewhere.”

Ruthless sat back in his seat, before he leaned forward and buried his face in his hands as he digested this. His fins began to flare, before they drooped, only to hesitantly flutter upwards again. Incoding and Innocent each put a comforting hand on his shoulders as he digested this.

For a minute, Musrio honestly thought the seadweller was going to cry. At last, though, he took a deep breath and sat up again, running a hand over his face. “I…” he shook his head. “Okay. Sorry. Okay. My wife’s alive.” His voice cracked, “Where is she?”

At that, Musrio could only shake his head. “I don’t know. She could be anywhere on Alternia- for all I know, she could be off-world. We need to plan, to-”

“To what? We can’t possibly sweep the entire planet for her.” Incoding interjected.

“I know that.” Musrio huffed, “But we need some place to start.” He turned to Ruthless, “Think, Deepbite. There must be a place the two of you went to that she’d know you’d think of, or something. Ribbit.”

Ruthless frowned, brows furrowing in thought. “… No. The only places I could think of would be ‘er grave, or here. Most everythin’ ‘tween us happened on this tub.” He stamped his foot, and the ship responded with a creak. “An’ trust me, I’d know if she were here.”

Musrio swallowed the growl in his throat. “Well, then…” His gaze wandered the room, as if the answer would be scrawled on the walls. He turned to Deadscar, next. “What about you? You’ve been all over Alternia, have you seen anywhere that could be a rainbow drinker’s hideout? Ribbit?”

The Wanderer considered it for a moment, before he shook his head. “That is too vague a question. I have seen hundreds of places where it would be easy for a rainbow drinker to dwell.” He rumbled.

Musrio reached up and fiddled with his necklace, thinking. Looking over the gathered trolls again, his gaze landed on his own ancestor, the Decaying Mind. Brigan was staring fixatedly at him.

“… You know, don’t you?” Musrio asked him.

He nodded.

“What?” Ruthless rounded on the older rustblood, “How?”

Musrio sighed. “Brigan saw all of this happen before it even occurred, when he was caught between life and death. Ribbit. It destroyed most of his mind, which is why I gave him his title.” He explained.

“Rotted, totted, off to the maggots.” Brigan hummed, drumming his fingers on the table.

“Then tell us, Bri.” Incoding took his matesprit’s hand, squeezing it gently, “Where is Lucina?”

Brigan looked up at him, squinting at the goldblood’s face. “Oh, Cody…” he sighed, making Incoding start in surprise.

“Where is she, Almawt?” Ruthless repeated, more forcefully.

Brigan began to sway, his lips pursed. Slowly, he scowled. “Words, words, words. Rotten like my pan, spilling black ink on black paper. Leviathan drowned by wolf, heralded by scorpion, stealing my lexicon. Incomprehensible, even to the Ebonblack.” He said, sounding frustrated.

“… What?” Innocent asked.

That was when Ashhur suddenly stood up. He walked around the table to face Decaying, leaning towards him. “Incomprehensible, against the Ebonblack.” He chirred, “Scrambled eggs in fried pan. Indigestible for gods. Poison. Use it.”

“Brat, what’re you doin’?” Hounding growled. Ruthless shushed him, as Decaying fixed his gaze on the young mutant.

Ashhur made several clicks and hums, all four eyes blinking out of sync. “The raining bows sipper is…” more clicks, “hiding. You know?” He asked.

Decaying nodded, enthralled. “I know.” He agreed, a look of hopeful wonder on his face as he stared at Ashhur.

“Where do you know?”

“Where do I know…” Decaying repeated, scratching his stubbly cheek. He opened his mouth and shut it several times. “The monster.” He said at last, seeming pleased with himself. He pointed at Ashhur, “Monster to monster, water to sand. No- no water, but the sapphire eye, guarding to the metal serpent. Beast of thirst, watching beast of slake, guarded by beast of bone. You know?”

All of Ashhur’s fins waved, almost hypnotically, as he thought this over, Decaying leaning forward with anticipation. Finally, Ashhur turned to Hounding. “What call you, the place of sand with no water?”

“The desert?” Hounding raised an eyebrow.

Decaying slapped his free hand onto the table, shook it out, and pointed at Hounding, nodding emphatically. “Desert, dessert, sweetness in sugar sand and gritted gold.” He turned to Ruthless. “Therein lies the where I know, what I know, who is known. Follow the screaming serpent’s trail, into the red, and find the corpse of lifeless gods.” He said, as if that was both comprehensible and important.

“Cody?” Ruthless turned to his morail, hoping for a translation.

“The hound of war lies in the desert.” Ashhur spoke instead, “Guarded by a beast, of one kind or many.”

“Okay… what’s a screaming serpent?” Incoding inquired.

Ashhur looked to Decaying.

“Metal, screaming, scuttling upon legs of centipede, but a serpent none the less.”

“Oh- a trackscuttler.” Incoding realized. He glanced at Ashhur, impressed. “How did you… manage to make him do that?”

Ashhur shrugged. “He cannot speak the way his pan speaks. I am,” he hesitated, clicking to himself, “broken worded, with your tongue. Broken tongue,” He pointed at himself, “broken thinkpan.” He pointed at Decaying, “Together, we make the words.”

“Well, then...” Innocent signed, “We head to the desert, and follow the trackscuttler trail.”

“All of us? That seems… like a bad idea.” Incoding frowned, “We don’t know where in the desert she is, or even which desert. The supplies alone would be a huge burden, and-”

“Then I’ll go.” Deadscar interrupted shortly. He rose to his feet, “I have crossed many deserts. I can search on my own.”

“Now, hang on.” Hounding squinted at Ishran, “Why the hell are ya goin’? I’m the tracker; my name is the Messiah’s damned Houndin’, after all.”

As one, the entire table turned to look at him. “... Why are you here, even?” Innocent inquired, “Last I checked, you weren’t on our side.”

Hounding nodded to Musrio. “The scumblood told me I aught’a come. Said I could get away from Godric.”

“I thought Godric was your boss.” Innocent pointed out, “He is the one that set you on us in the first place. Why would you want to get away from him?”

Hounding eyed the limeblood reproachfully. “Name one laborer that actually likes their foreman, sewerblood, an’ I’ll hang up my ax. Motherfucker pays me ta clean up his messes, but that doesn’t mean I want ta do it. The jobs the church gives me are more important than offin’ off some bitchblood with a big mouth.”

“...”

All the other adults gave each other a look.

Musrio shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. “Hounding is no longer the bigger threat here. We have Oliver, and the Enforcer to worry about. Ancient animosities have to be set aside. Ribbit.”

“It’s true…” Incoding said thoughtfully, before he snorted a laugh and turned to Hounding, “You’re basic, big guy. You’re season one’s villain.”

Hounding growled at him. “I could still rip ya in half right now, pissblood.”

“An’ ye’d get a bullet in the eye fer it.” Ruthless hissed.

“Stop.” Musrio said sharply, “Now isn’t the time.”

“Aye.” Ruthless agreed, looking around. “But it’s decided, then? Ishran’ll head fer the desert ta search fer Lucina. When ‘e finds her, we’ll come a’runnin’.”

The others nodded.

Ishran turned towards the door. “No point in wasting time. I will leave now.”

“Already?” Innocent asked, surprised.

Ishran looked towards his former charge, his expression momentarily softening. “Yes. I will be in touch.” He said, before striding out the door.

With that, Musrio rose to his feet, before he bowed to the gathered ancestors. “You have my thanks, all of you, for hearing me out. And… I’m sorry, for all of this. If it was my choice, I would have left your souls to rest. Ribbit.”

The gathering broke up, then, Hounding and Ashhur leaving promptly after. Musrio stood on the deck of the Warshark, texting Drayco as the three morails chatted nearby. The young rustblood looked up as a hand touched his shoulder.

“Puzzle to puzzle, pieces to rest.” Decaying murmured, coming to stand beside him. He looked up at the moons; they were full and fat that night, bathing everything in silvery purple and green. “Connected, all of them, until the picture is made blurry by the buried secrets. Clicked together, string to thumbtack, followed by the puppet wires, until they all tie behind the boy with demons in his blood and gods in his brain.”

He looked down at Musrio again, an unreadable expression in his eyes as he gazed intensely at his descendant. “The line will be blurred, paint will spill, but painters spared. Follow the lines, balance, tight-rope walking, but let ashen feathers run amok. Flames consume breath until redemption breaks the puzzle. The bane of worlds and innocent constellations will be the salvation of us all.”

He squeezed Musrio’s shoulder, before he wandered away, leaving the young rustblood to contemplate the oncoming events.

#of monsters and matriarchs #story time #long post #musrio almawt #oliver maddel #the innocent #the incoding #ruthless deepbite #the decaying #the deadscar wanderer #the hounding #ashhur jaybez

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roman-writing · 4 years ago

Text

no great revelation (4/8)

Fandom(s): The Haunting of Bly Manor / Star Wars

Pairing: Dani Clayton/Jamie Taylor

Rating: T

Wordcount: 7,057

Summary: Jamie just wants to enjoy a drink after a hard day’s work on the Telosian Restoration Project. The last thing she needs is to get herself caught up in a mysterious woman with a lightsabre at the local bar.

Aurthor’s notes: Please don’t expect anything from this story. I’m just doodling in between writing ch11 and ch12 of ‘bring home a haunting.’

read it below or read it here on AO3

IV:

—

“I owe you a favour?” Rebecca said, and her voice sounded amused. “Is that how we’re remembering it?”

“Yup. After that fiasco you put me through in that club on Nar Shaddaa.”

The sound of an incredulous huff of laughter came through the cracked speakers of the transceiver in a staticky burst. “What is it this time?”

“Nothing special,” said Jamie. “In fact, it’s even a little boring.”

“You? Boring?”

“I like boring.”

“Pull the other one.”

“More boring than last time, then.”

“Last time you had me move three hundred freed Twi’lek slaves from Hutt space and back to their home planets.”

“And they’ve been singing your praises ever since. I know that for a fact, because one family sent me a holo-card which showed that party you went to where they made you godmother of their newborn child.”

“Oh! That reminds me,” Rebecca said, sounding suddenly excited. “Do you want to see the latest pictures of the kid? He’s four and adorable.”

“That had better be a rhetorical question,” Jamie drawled.

“So, that’s a no?”

“Shut up and send me the pictures to my personal transceiver when I see you.”

Rebecca’s laugh was infectious. Always had been. A smile pulled at the corner of Jamie’s mouth in spite of herself. The Jawas had crowded off to the other end of the tiny room, talking amongst themselves while Jamie used their transceiver. On the other hand Dani drifted closer, hovering just out of range of the transceiver’s camera, which — along with the microphone and speakers — seemed to be the only thing about it that actually functioned properly.

“It’s been too long,” Rebecca was saying. “I’ve missed talking to you.”

“So, you’ll do me the favour?”

“You know I hate moving people,” Rebecca sighed. “Pressurising the cargo hold is so expensive.”

“It’s for a good cause.”

“Always is with you.”

"It's not like that."

"Sure it isn't." Rebecca said, then groaned. "Why can't you ever ask me to run something normal? Like food? Or weapons?"

"I asked you to run those emergency rations to Taris that one time."

"The planet was being blockaded by the Empire!"

"And you snuck through like a ghost," Jamie said. "I've never seen anything like it in all my years."

"Flatterer."

"Fuckin' right I am. Is it working?"

A sigh down the other line. "All right. How many people is it this time?"

Jamie opened her mouth to answer, but before she could speak Dani came into frame and sat beside Jamie with a wave towards the camera.

"Hi," she said with as much false cheer as she could muster. "Just me. Dani Clayton. Nice to meet you."

Silence on the other end. Jamie really wished this piece of crap transceiver had a working screen of its own so she could gauge Rebecca's reaction. As it was: the silence didn't seem like a good start.

“I see,” Rebecca said slowly. “Jamie, you always did have a soft spot for a pretty face.”

Heat flushed all the way up to Jamie’s hairline. “That’s not -!” she said, then turned to Dani and insisted, “It’s not.”

Dani did not answer. Her own cheeks were pink and she was studiously avoiding Jamie’s gaze, watching the broken monitor instead where Rebecca’s face should have been displayed.

Rebecca — damn her — was the one who spoke next. "And where are you from, Dani?"

"Alderaan," Dani said at the same time Jamie hissed, "Don't answer that."

Dani shot Jamie a puzzled look and lowered her voice, “I thought you two were friends.”

“We are, but -”

“No whispering,” said Rebecca through the crackling speakers in a sing-song voice. “If you’re talking about me, at least let me hear the juicy gossip.”

Rather than continue down that vein, Jamie corrected course. “We need to get to Tython. We’re on a transport through the Hydian Way to Coruscant, but we’ve got some undesirables on our tail. Think you can help?”

Rebecca gave a thoughtful hum. “You know I’m not a Core World girl. Not my speciality.”

“I wouldn’t ask you if I wasn’t desperate.”

“Next time,” Rebecca said in a dry tone, “just call me for drinks and a laugh.”

“First round’s on me,” Jamie promised with a grin.

The sound of tapping down the line and a series of beeps as Rebecca did something with her ship’s computer. “I’m picking up your signal from hyperspace just past Bandomeer. I won’t be able to meet up with your transport until you come out of hyperspace for a stop over at Corsin tomorrow afternoon. Think you can survive that long?”

Leaning back, Jamie exhaled a long relieved breath, her shoulders slumping. “It’ll have to do. Thanks, Becs. You’re a lifesaver.”

“I know.”

And just like that, the call ended. No fanfare. No goodbyes. That’s how it always was with her — touch and go. Probably why the two of them got along so well, Jamie thought. Not many people could go without exchanging a single word for four years and then pick up where they’d left off as if no time had passed at all.

Jamie pushed the transceiver away. Dani was watching her with a curious tilt of her head so that a lock of her hair was curled along the column of her neck in a way that made Jamie want to reach out and card her fingers through her hair.

“She seems nice,” Dani said.

“It’s complicated.”

Understanding lit up in Dani’s mismatched eyes. “Ah.”

“Not like that,” Jamie said quickly. “We never - I just meant that she’s complicated. For a smuggler like Rebecca, trust is its own currency. And now I owe her a very big favour.”

Dani nodded but didn’t comment further. She had turned her attention back to the huddle of Jawas, listening to them quibble and murmur together. “As much as I like them,” she said, “I don’t think we can hide here for a full day without imposing.”

That and Jamie could not imagine trying to sleep in a pile with a bunch of Jawas. She made a face at the very thought. It was cramped with two people in one of these rooms. Let alone eleven. Even if the other nine were less than a meter in height and smelled of damp womprat.

“Please tell me the alternative doesn’t involve the garbage chute,” Dani said.

The alternative only partially involved the garbage chute. And even then, they only had to use it once to ferry their way up to the mid decks when their transport dropped out of hyperspace and docked at Corsin. Jamie kept checking over her shoulder for sign of the Jedi and the Troopers as she and Dani snuck off the transport with a crowd of others. She did not relax even as they stepped free of the transport and into the hangar bays of Corsin.

The arched transparisteel ceiling was a void of star-speckled ink viewing out into space, and far below the planet was a marble of blue oceans and green islands, white tufts of cloud drifting across its surface.

“It looks beautiful,” said Dani, pausing to wistfully admire the planet below.

“It looks unaffordable,” Jamie replied, not sparing it a glance and instead standing up on her toes, craning her neck to get a better look around the hangar.

“Reminds me of Alderaan.”

It was said almost softly enough that Jamie couldn’t hear it. Jamie stopped her search and turned back to Dani, who was still staring longingly out the windows. Hesitating for a second, Jamie curled her fingers around Dani’s hand. Startled, Dani blinked at her.

Jamie offered what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “C’mon,” she said, and gave Dani’s hand a tug.

Dani did not pull her hand away as Jamie pulled her along further into the hangar in search of their ticket out of this mess. She linked their fingers together and held on tight, her hand cold; Dani was always cold. Jamie needed to think about buying her a set of thermals.

Pushing through the crowd, they made their way from various bay to various bay. Other passengers who knew their destinations went straight to the cruiser that would ferry them down to the planet below. Most of them wore enough Ottegan silk to last Jamie a year if she sold it on the black market, no questions asked. This was not a planet for people like them, and a few security droids around the place had started to take notice of that fact. Jamie was constructing an elaborate lie in her head about how they were janitorial staff, when she finally saw her.

Rebecca was standing before a side bay with her hand resting easily on the holster of her blaster pistol. She looked just as Jamie remembered. All in smart and durable beige and black, the cut of her clothes fashionable in a rakish sort of way but unafraid of hard labour. Her dark hair was longer and was bound in a long plait over one shoulder. And her dark skin was slightly darker, too — she must have been visiting a sunny planet lately. Letting go of Dani’s hand and striding forward with a broad smile, Jamie caught her in a fierce warm hug.

“God, but it’s good to see you again,” Jamie said.

Only one of Rebecca’s hands came up to rest against Jamie’s back to return the hug. When she pulled back slightly her smile had an oddly sad slant, and she murmured, “I really am sorry for this, Jamie.”

Jamie blinked, her face falling. “What -?”

Before she could move, Rebecca’s other hand came up and pressed something to Jamie’s flank. A flash of something like fire rippled through Jamie’s body, and then she slumped forwards into Rebecca’s arms, the world spinning and going dark.

When Jamie came to, she had a splitting headache and her side felt like it had been kicked by a very large very angry animal. She winced and slowly sat up with a groan. Blinking muzzily, she took inventory of her surroundings. Just a small room sheathed in dark metal panels from floor to ceiling, complete with the only door blocked by yellow plasma beam bars, and a Czerka logo stamped into one of the panels on the hallway outside.

And worst of all: no Dani in sight.

Great. Alone in the brig of a Czerka ship. And given her shit luck, Jamie had an inkling of exactly whose ship this belonged to as well.

“Fuck,” she said, lingering emphatically over every aspect of the word.

She had been placed along a bench in the cell, and now she dragged her sorry carcass into the corner so that she could prop her legs atop the bench and lean her head back against the wall. When the world finally stopped trying to tilt with every sluggish beat of her heart, Jamie patted herself down.

No mining laser, of course. That would’ve been the first thing they stripped off of her. No credit chits in her pocket. No multitools that she always kept on her person in case she ever needed to disassemble some machinery at work. The dogtags were still around her neck at least. At least if she died, whoever found her would be able to identify her body and return it to Tython or wherever the fuck nobodies like her in The Order went after death. Small miracles.

Nothing for it, then. She staggered upright and went to use the loo. When she’d finished, she returned to her place on the bench and thought about how fucked she was.

She’d been in plenty of bad scrapes in her time, but this was taking the coveted position of ‘Worst Hole Ever Dug by Jamie Taylor — May the Force Be With Her.’

A door opened in the near distance, then another, followed by quick footsteps. Jamie frowned at the hallway, waiting for some Czerka pillock to come take her away and shove her out an airlock. Instead Rebecca came into swift view.

"Here," she said, sliding Jamie's handheld mining laser along the floor through the bars, then began trying to pry a section of the wall away from the hallway in order to reveal a nest of wires leading to the control panel. "I've disabled the alarms and cameras for the brig, but we don't have much time. There's a cruiser docked in bay three. It has a hyperdrive and enough rations to get you to wherever you need to go. The Czerka fleet won't fire upon it so long as you're quick and you don't let them figure out it's you."

Jamie did not move. Teeth clenched, she crossed her arms and glowered at the opposite wall.

"Jamie -"

"Nope," Jamie said, jaw taut, refusing to even look in her direction.

"Listen to me," Rebecca gave up on hacking the control panel. She tried to move into Jamie's line of sight but Jamie kept turning her head aside. "There is more to this than what it appears. I know about the infiltration of House Thul. I know about the -"

"I don't care about what you know,” Jamie cut her off. "If you think I'll listen to another word out of your mouth, then you've got another thing coming."

"I'm trying to make sure I can get you out of here alive, you thick-headed Rim-Rat!" Rebecca snapped.

“If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place!”

With a bitter laugh, Rebecca leaned against the frame of the cell, careful to not touch the plasma beam bars. “That’s rich, knowing your history. I’ve never met a person who gets into more trouble than you.”

Jamie put on her best sneer and asked, "What's Quint got over you this time, then? Eh?"

Rebecca shook her head and looked away with an incredulous noise, hands on her hips. "It's not like that."

"Like hell it's not," Jamie growled. "All that time you spent outwitting the Empire, and now this? He is Imperial through and through."

"I know exactly what Peter is."

"Yeah. A piece of shit, who'd sell his mother if it means saving his own sorry hide."

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Rebecca said and her voice was low. She darted her eyes down the hall, as if watching for any potential eavesdroppers. “And you are in far deeper shit than you could possibly understand. That woman you’re with -”

Sitting up straighter, Jamie swung her legs over the side of the bench and onto the ground, suddenly alert. “Where is she?”

Rebecca fixed her with a serious expression. Rather than answer, she said, “She’s dangerous.”

“She’s scared,” Jamie corrected.

“Which is quite possibly the worst thing for her to be.”

Rising to her feet, Jamie glowered through the plasma bars. Her voice was pure venom. “If you had just helped me get her to Tython, then I could’ve gotten her proper training.”

“The Order won’t take her.”

Jamie had to stop herself from striking out at the bars, even knowing they would give her burns all across her skin. “You know fuck all about The Order!” she snarled, pointing at Rebecca’s infuriatingly calm face through the bars.

In the distance a door opened with a hiss of pressurized air. Both Jamie and Rebecca tensed and looked over in that direction. Or, well, Jamie tried to look but the view from the cell was pretty limited, all things considered. She'd had better views from the brigs of far less fancy ships than this.

Footsteps approached. Turning back, Rebecca lowered her voice and said in a rush, "Jamie, listen to me for once in your life. You are my friend, and I am going to get you out of this, but you have to do what I say."

Jamie shook her head. "No. Not without her."

Swearing fluently under her breath, Rebecca slammed the section of wall back into place to hide her attempted tampering. She’d only just managed to get everything in place and turn around, when no less than four Czerka guards in green and gold livery marched into sight. All of them were holding blaster rifles and were armoured to boot. They weren’t walking military-grade arsenals like the Republic Troopers from the transport, but they still weren’t people Jamie wanted to fuck with unless she had some serious firepower at her back. Hastily Jamie hid her mining laser in one of her bulky pockets, praying they wouldn’t pat her down.

“You shouldn’t be down here,” one of them said to Rebecca.

Rebecca pointed to a corner of the ceiling. “I noticed the cameras were down and came to investigate in case the prisoner managed to escape.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, then stomped past her to key in a code into the control panel leading to Jamie’s cell. “Next time, alert one of us instead.”

The plasma bars fizzed out of existence. The leader of this particular pillock squad made a sharp motion to the others, and two of them marched forward, grabbed Jamie by the shoulders, and hauled her upright.

“Easy does it, lads,” Jamie grumbled. “Could’ve just asked.”

One of them clipped her on the back of the head with his gauntleted fist. “Quiet.”

After they yanked her hands behind her back and clipped a set of handcuffs around her wrists, they marched her out of the cell. Jamie gave Rebecca the dirtiest glare she possibly could, and Rebecca just rolled her eyes in response, trailing after the group. Two sets of hands remained firm around Jamie’s upper arms as they walked, guiding her further into the depths of the ship.

When they all crowded into an elevator together, doors sliding shut behind them, a cheerful cantina tune began to play.

“So,” Jamie ventured. “Don’t suppose anyone’s got a light?”

No answer. From the corner of her vision, Jamie could just make out Rebecca biting back an ill-timed smile in the back of the elevator. Or maybe she was trying to stop herself from screaming in frustration. Difficult to tell from this angle.

“Just trying to be neighbourly,” Jamie grumbled.

“Shut up,” said one of the guards whose fingers dug into her arm.

A light dinged, the music stopped, and the elevator doors opened with a hiss. Jamie couldn’t see beyond the massive frame of the two guards standing in front of her, but soon the four of them were flanking her as they all moved forward, leading her onto the bridge of what appeared to be Peter Quint’s flagship.

Or at least, that was what Jamie assumed. And given that Peter Quint was standing at the head of the bridge, she reckoned she wasn’t too far off the mark.

His hands were clasped behind his back and he faced away, looking out through the transparisteel windows at the sleek fore of the ship pointing into space, surrounded by a veritable fleet of other vessels that looked like they were on direct loan from the Empire. The long hems of Peter’s dark coat brushed his ankles, but he did not turn around or indeed take any notice of the new arrivals. In fact, he seemed engaged in deep conversation with someone whom Jamie could not see. The light glinted off one of his hands, the metal dark of his cybernetic limb dark. If Jamie hadn’t been looking for it, she might have mistaken it for a glove of some sort.

The bridge split into three segments, the centre being command ending in a . Two of the guards veered off to the left, while another marched straight forward to address Peter. The last kept a firm hold of Jamie’s arm and hauled her off to the right, circling around while Rebecca trailed behind them, silent. As they went, Jamie got a better view of exactly who Peter was talking to, and she started.

“Dani -”

The guard yanked at Jamie’s arm to keep her on course, and the three of them stopped at the head of the right wing, separated from command by a pit sunk into the floor, where engineers and pilots and God only knows who else toiled away pressing buttons or something. Jamie had no idea what was required to run a ship this size. Armed men, apparently, for that constituted the majority of people on the bridge. Guards at the doors. Guards at the helm. Guards along the walls.

Dani’s wrists weren’t bound with handcuffs, but she was kneeling on the ground as if she’d fallen there, and her cheek bore a bruise that was already starting to go purple. Her shoulders were hunched around her ears, and she was leaning away from Peter. When Jamie had spoken, Dani’s eyes flicked in her direction then widened. She opened her mouth as if to answer, but snapped it shut once more, wringing her hands together in her lap. She was not wearing the lightsabre anywhere on her person.

Peter had tilted his head to listen to whatever report the guard was delivering to him. He nodded and the guard went away with a sharp salute. And then he turned to look at Jamie.

“Jamie,” he said, “It’s been a minute.”

“Yeah, not nearly enough,” Jamie muttered.

The guard cuffed her again. Not enough to bruise, but enough to sting. On the other side of her, Jamie saw Rebecca’s hand tighten into a fist.

If Peter seemed at all troubled by this exchange, he did not show it. “You’ve led us on a bit of a merry chase, you know. Could’ve saved me the trouble and just let me have her back on Telos IV.”

Nodding towards Dani, Jamie said, "Since when do you care about dead Jedi? Or bounties for that matter? You’re rolling in credits."

Peter let out a bark of laughter. "About - what?" He looked down at Dani, saw the stricken expression on her face, and then he smiled that sickly sweet smile of his. "Oh, I see."

Dani did not move. She did not speak.

When Peter continued speaking, it was not to Jamie. “No, it’s not credits I’m after. Or Jedi. But you know that. Don’t you, darling?” He crouched down before Dani, who shrank back from him. His voice was soft when he said, "You know what I want. Just give it back, love, and you can be on your way. I'll even give you your own personal escort back to Alderaan with enough credits to drown yourself in. How does that sound?"

Dani blinked up at him in surprise. Then her eyes darted in Jamie's direction.

Peter followed her gaze, and Jamie wanted to burn the smirk off his smug fucking face. "Ah, no," he said, turning back to Dani. "I'm afraid that one stays with me."

Dani licked at her lips and straightened her shoulders. "You let her go, or I won’t give it to you."

From this angle Jamie couldn't see the expression on Peter's face. His broad shoulders held a barely restrained tension, as though on the cusp of explosive movement. And when he spoke, even the gentle softness of his voice was a lie, "Very well. You have my word."

Don't, Jamie wanted to shout in warning. Don't do it.

Slowly, Dani reached into her cloak and unpicked a section of the lining, revealing a makeshift hidden pocket. She rummaged around then pulled something out and set it on the floor. Jamie strained to get a better look. Her captor kneed her roughly in the back for her trouble, and she would've gone face first into the ground if not for the hand in her hair yanking her back so that she remained upright.

It didn't stop her from catching a glimpse of what was being exchanged, however. Shards of metal, black gold. All in pieces, like a disassembled puzzle.

Peter was silent. He stared down at the pieces Dani had placed at his feet. Then in a smooth motion he stood, pushing himself upright to loom over her.

"Do you think this is funny?" he asked in that too quiet, too dangerous tone.

Eyes wide, Dani shook her head. "No, I -"

Peter kicked the pieces away with a vicious swipe of his foot, and Dani flinched back with a startled cry. He darted forward and seized a handful of her cloak.

"Where is it?" he snarled.

"That's - That's all I have! The box fell apart after I touched it, I swear!"

Peter's hand tightened around the fabric, pulling up so that Dani was held slightly off the ground by the scruff of her neck, her feet scrambling for purchase on the metal flooring. "Box?" he repeated. "I'm not asking about a fucking toy box! Where is the holocron?"

"The -? The what?"

With a vicious curse, he threw her back onto the ground. Dani caught herself on her hands with a hiss of pain, and she flinched back when Peter began to circle her.

"Don't play dumb," he said. "You know what I'm after."

"I don't -"

"You think I'm fucking blind? You think a piece of shit nobody from a backwater in Alderaan can kill a Jedi? You think you just woke up one day with powers?" He stalked around her, his expression a mask of fury. "You are nothing. You are nobody. You're not Force sensitive. You're a puppet. Just a piece of meat to house something greater, and you don't even fucking know it!"

The deck fell silent but for the beep of electronics, the rustle of fabric as pilots kept the ship on course. Jamie darted a look towards Rebecca, but her face was carefully blank and guarded, her thumb hooked through the belt of her blaster pistol in a way that Jamie knew meant she was actually nervous about something. None of which boded well.

“I was so close,” Peter was saying, and he didn’t even seem to be talking to Dani anymore. His words were a ranting mutter, wrathful and desperate. The metal of his robotic arm clicked in a menacing fashion every time he clenched his hand into a rhythmic fist. “This was it. This was my last run. The last deed I’d ever have to do for those evil cocksuckers on Dromund Kaas. Plant a holocron and be done with it. Be free of the Empire forever. Until you -”

His voice trailed off and his steps slowed to a halt. In the muddy light of the bridge, he was a faceless silhouette. He clenched his metal fist so tightly that it creaked and sparked. Dani shivered on the ground at his feet, her shoulders hunched, as though she were trying to make herself small enough to disappear.

“You went snooping. You took something that didn’t belong to you. And I need it back. No matter the price.” In a swift movement, Peter crouched down on his haunches again. Dani flinched back, but Peter merely watched her for a long and uncomfortable moment before he continued, “So, what’s it going to be?”

From where she stood, Jamie could just make out the defiant set of Dani’s jaw.

Sighing, Peter reached out and tucked a stray curl of hair behind Dani’s ear, while Dani sat, frozen in place. “Contrary to popular belief, I don’t like hurting people,” he said. “Always the worst way of going about it. And, you know, it just doesn’t work as well as you’d think. So, tell me. What’s your price? Hmm? What do I have to do to get you to talk?”

When again Dani did not answer, Peter withdrew his hand. “Normally I’m a patient man, but as we live and breathe, there’s a Dark Lord of the Sith coming our way. If you don’t deal with me, then you’ll be dealing with him. And I assure you: you want to be dealing with me instead.”

Licking her lips, Dani said, “I already told you everything I know.”

“Well, that is disappointing.”

Jamie tried to shift her feet slightly so she could get a better angle on the rest of the bridge, but the guard behind her kicked her in the back of the knee. When she went down with a grunt of pain, her knee slamming into the ground, the guard then yanked her back up by the handcuffs behind her with enough force she felt her arm sockets complain.

“Get up,” the guard growled, and Jamie shot him a look that should have dropped him on the spot.

The brief commotion drew Peter and Dani’s attention back in this direction. Peter pushed himself upright and turned, while Dani’s panicked gaze moved from him to Jamie and back again.

“Or maybe I’m going about this the wrong way,” Peter murmured. He walked slowly across the bridge towards Jamie.

“Even if I did know something, you and I both know I’d rather cut out my own tongue than tell you,” Jamie spat. The guard tightened his hold on her handcuffs, but she pinned him in place with a fierce glare and said, “Touch me again, and I’ll end you, mate.”

Peter held up his hand before the guard could react. When Jamie faced him once more, Peter was close enough that she could see the thin scar on his cheek. Unfortunately, she hadn’t been the one to give it to him. She didn’t know where in his sordid past he’d gotten it.

The corner of his mouth twitched in a smile that never touched his eyes. “Oh, Jamie. I never thought you actually knew something. You’re much too simple to get sensible answers before leaping to a lost cause.”

In spite of herself, Jamie’s gaze darted to Dani who was watching their interaction with naked dread.

Peter followed her gaze and grinned. “Aye,” he said. “That’s the one.”

And without further ado, he drew his blaster pistol, pointed it at Jamie, and shot her. The smell of burnt flesh was an afterthought to the blinding pain that sent her vision white. Jamie staggered, keeling slowly over the charred wound low in her abdomen just above her hip. Something cold was pressed against her face, and it was with a blurred realisation that Jamie found herself lying on the floor. She blinked through the muzzy borders of her vision, trying to move and only managing to gurgle weakly.

Right. Bad idea, that.

At least blaster fire didn’t allow for my bleeding. Mass internal burn trauma, yes, but she wasn’t about to bleed out on the floor. Every breath was a sharp lance through Jamie’s stomach. She pushed herself into a crouch on all fours, registering the commotion around her as if experiencing it through water.

“ - Don’t touch her! Don’t you dare -!”

“Peter, killing her gets you nothing. You should -”

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do, Becs! I won’t be taking orders ever again! Not from you, and especially not from the Empire!”

“Then get what you need, but Jamie doesn’t have it. And neither, it seems, does she.”

Three sets of boots surrounded her. The guard beside her, and Rebecca standing between her and Peter. As Jamie tilted her head up, Peter started to stalk away. His footsteps were loud against the metal grating of the floor, and he dropped heavily into the captain’s chair at the head of the bridge. He had holstered his pistol and now he reached down to pick up something that had been propped up against the base of the chair.

He pressed a button, and the lightsabre leapt to life. The blue light scattered across his face. “The holocron isn’t on Alderaan,” Peter said. “We did a very thorough check. Which means you -” he pointed the lightsabre at Dani, who was now standing at the centre of the bridge facing him, “- must have left it somewhere between there and Telos IV.”

Dani’s expression was dark, her hands were trembling fists at her side.

With a sigh, Peter sheathed the lightsabre and set it on the arm of his chair. He leaned back in his seat, crossing his legs so that his ankle was propped on his opposite knee. Addressing the guard beside Jamie, he said, “Rebecca’s right Jamie doesn’t know anything of use. Take her to the lower decks and throw her out the airlock.”

The guard did not even say an affirmative. He simply hauled Jamie to her feet, and began dragging her back towards the exit despite Rebecca’s protests.

“Leave her alone.”

There was something wrong with Dani’s voice. An odd burr, a hard quality that did not suit her. She still had her gaze fixed upon Peter, but something in the way she spoke made every person in the room tense. The guard shoving Jamie along froze, looking back towards Peter for further instruction.

There was an internal pressure building in Jamie’s chest, something like desperation, like the acrid aftertaste of gunmetal and blasterfire. All around them, the wall panels groaned. A few crumpled beneath the strain. Rupture of pipe and control panels, and with a screech of metal on metal all the lights on the bridge went out. Steam from the burst pipes billowed along the floor. Every guard in the room — even Jamie’s — raised their weapon towards Dani, glancing nervously around. Moments later, the emergency lighting flickered to life, illuminating the deck with a faint glow.

Quint’s face was cast from below. Unlike the others, he had not moved, remaining slouched on his captain’s chair like a low-slung throne. He smiled at Dani. “Was that supposed to impress anyone?”

Dani reached out her hand and the sabre that had been resting on the arm of Peter’s chair was in Dani’s grasp before Jamie could even blink, as though it had leapt into place there. With a press of her thumb, the blade extended, slicing a blue line through the gloom. The air was cold, so cold that Jamie could see her own breath misting in a cloud, and the icy fear that had twisted in her chest was a thing now slicked with darkness. A treachery of black ice beneath every step.

She watched, handcuffed and helpless, as Dani gripped the sabre so tightly that her hands shook. One of Dani’s eyes gleamed gold and bright, unblinking, fixed upon Peter, and from the hilt a crimson light peeled down the length of the blade, a slow and burning bleed of kyber, until the sabre was completely engulfed in a light as red as a dying star.

“Open fire,” Peter said, voice trembling, face pale, staring at her with wide eyes. He jabbed his finger in Dani’s direction and repeated in a shout to the room at large, “Open fucking fire!”

Over a dozen guardsmen sighted down their blaster rifles and began shooting. The lightsabre was a living thing in Dani’s hands. It moved in ways Jamie had only ever seen in training manuals, in the hands of Knights and Masters. No motion wasted. Every angle of the blade made with surety of purpose.

Four guards were dead by their own reflected blaster fire before they could even manage to pull the trigger a second time. Dani reached out, and four others had their rifles ripped from their hands, the weapons warping into useless hunks of metal and cast aside. One of the guards stationed at the exit raced forward, pulling out a long knife that had been strapped to his thigh. Dani did not even pause in deflecting incoming blaster fire; she swept the lightsabre behind her, passing the hilt between her hands and bringing it back around. Half of the guard’s severed body went careening into the control pit, where the pilots and engineers cowered with hands over their heads. The other half skidded to a halt on the floor, dead weight.

Jamie’s mouth hung open. Blaster fire continued to fly through the air in streaks of red. The guard who had been assigned to her was torn between trying to shoot Dani and trying to keep a hand on his charge. Then Rebecca stepped forward, pressed the muzzle of her pistol to the side of his head, and pulled the trigger. He crumpled into a heap on the ground, and Jamie swore loudly.

Crouching down, Rebecca grabbed something off the guard’s body and used it to unlock Jamie’s handcuffs. “Don’t just stand there!” Rebecca yelled over the din, and she circled an arm around Jamie’s waist to help her along. “Let’s go!”

The two of them lurched towards the exit. A deflected shot struck the ground beside them, and they ducked down. Smoke and steam filled the air. The smell of blaster fire and burnt flesh was thick enough to make Jamie gag. Cursing under her breath all the while, Rebecca pulled Jamie to the exit, where a guardsman was sprawled, dead on the floor with a hole the size of a fist burnt through his chest. Rebecca had to let go of Jamie for a second to haul the guard closer so she could use his hand to unlock the biosecurity lock on the exit. The panel flashed green, and Rebecca dropped the guard in favour of Jamie again.

The elevator was eleven floors down and slowly started to ascend.

“Come on,” Rebecca was muttering under her breath to herself. “Come on, come on, come on -”

Behind them, the blaster fire dwindled to a halt. There was the sound of something heavy and wet falling to the ground. With a thrill of sickening fear gripping her stomach, Jamie turned and felt Rebecca do the same.

The walls were scarred and pitted. A shower of sparks fell from the ceiling where a wall panel had been shot loose. Through the haze of smoke, Jamie could make out the shape of bodies scattered across the floor, and at the very centre of it all Dani stood.

Her back was to them. She faced the captain’s chair, the lightsabre burning red through the acrid smoke. For a moment it seemed Peter was standing to his feet, but then Jamie realised he was being lifted up. He grasped at his throat with both hands, heels lashing out at the air, making wordless strangled noises, gasping. Then his head snapped to one side with a sickening crack, and he went still. Dani looked up at him and with an almost lazy gesture, tossed him aside. His body slammed into a far wall and fell to the ground in a heap.

Jamie’s pulse skyrocketed when Dani turned around and looked at them. And when Dani started to stalk in their direction, adrenaline coursed through Jamie; every nerve in her body was screaming for her to flee, to hide in some small dark place until this danger had passed over the land like the shadow of night.

Dani’s cold gaze fell upon Rebecca, and she raised the lightsabre once more.

“Woah!” Maybe it was the adrenaline or maybe it was the pain doing funny things to her head, but Jamie leapt in front of Rebecca, hands trembling and lifted as though in surrender. “No, no! I mean, yeah, I’m also mad at her, but I don’t want her to die!”

“Thanks,” muttered Rebecca behind her.

“Shut up,” Jamie muttered back.

Dani had gone still, but the weapon was still a gleaming line of bloody crimson held overhead.

“She can get us a cruiser with a hyperdrive,” Jamie said. “We can get out of here. Just - put down the lightsabre? Please?”

The elevator made a bright ding behind them and the doors slid open. Dani leveled the lightsabre and for a brief terrifying moment Jamie thought she was going to cut it straight through her from shoulder to hip. The blade stopped, pointing at Rebecca just over Jamie’s shoulder, and she made a sharp little gesture with the tip that Jamie could hear burning up the air right next to her ear.

"Move," Dani ordered softly, and her voice sounded odd. As though there was more than one person speaking in unison.

Rebecca moved, backing slowly into the elevator. Lowering her hands, Jamie followed. Dani watched them with the fixedness of a predator, the air around her cold enough that Jamie shivered when Dani stepped into the small enclosed space with them. The lightsabre still seared in Dani’s fist, pointed towards the ground. Rebecca hit a button for hangar bay three, and the doors of the elevator shut with a hiss.

The elevator started its descent. If this had been any other time, Jamie might have been tempted to reach out, gently grasp Dani’s wrist and urge her to put the lightsabre away. But this was not any other time, and there was nothing of the woman Jamie had grown to know over the last week in Dani’s face now. She stared blankly at the shut elevator doors, never blinking.

They arrived at hangar bay three and Rebecca immediately rushed over to the console that controlled access to the ship docked just beyond the hangar doors. She hooked something into the base of the console, making the screen flicker before giving her full admin privileges. As she started keying in the right commands, Jamie walked up beside her.

Dani drifted behind her, blade in hand, completely silent. It felt like being followed by a mute ghost.

Whatever Rebecca did worked. The hangar doors unlatched, turned, then slowly opened to reveal the sleek polished interior of a luxury cruiser yacht. Jamie stepped into the yacht’s entryway and looked around at the gleaming walls. Finally, Dani hit the button to sheathe the lightsabre and brushed past Jamie without a glance in her direction, vanishing around a corner of the cruiser. The brief contact made Jamie shiver.

“Right. Okay,” said Jamie, hand pressing on the wound at her abdomen, still jittery from that feeling of being prey in the sights of something with very big teeth. She turned to Rebecca. “Fuck you, I guess?”

From behind the console, Rebecca smiled weakly at her. “I suppose I deserve that. Does this mean I owe you a favour?”

“The biggest favour,” Jamie said gravely. “Like - seriously huge.”

“Until next time, then. Oh, and Jamie?” Rebecca said, and Jamie paused to glance back at her. “Don’t die.”

Swallowing thickly, Jamie nodded, then Rebecca hit the button to shut the doors.

Easier said than done.

#thobm #the haunting of bly manor #star wars #roman writes #no great revelation #damie #dani clayton/jamie

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bugmomwrites · 5 years ago

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Animal Crossed Lovers (Tamaki Amajiki)

Alrighty so I haven't put any finished work on here in a hot minute, that’s my bad. ANYWHO my mom got me ACNH as an early birthday gift since my birthday (April 5th) just missed the supposed quarantine cutoff date for our area (7th). I may be be stuck inside while everything’s closed, but hey- at least the island of Escapism hardly rests 😉

(SW-3129-0651-5422)

Tamaki Amajiki x GN! Reader

Tamaki was never one to play video games, but he had to admit there was just something...soothing about Animal Crossing that melted much of his anxiety away. Nejire had initially preordered a copy for his birthday weeks ago, but her friend who worked at the local (s/n) (who he may or may not have been crushing on since their second year after they joined them at lunch one day) was able to pull a couple strings and get it on the fourth of March instead of the twentieth. Of course he had no idea, but he was so stunned when he opened it that it didn’t even occur to him that the game wasn’t even out yet until Mirio had reminded him. He didn’t question it though- his friend group was one wild card after another, so he guessed he shouldn’t have been too surprised.

He was thrilled, and just the fact that no one else had a copy yet made it feel all the more personal. Of course he knew in sixteen days it would be all anybody ever talked about, but for the time being it felt like the game, the little world he had created in the past few days with its gentle music and soft, wholesome theme, was his and his alone. The fact that it was a gift from his friends made it all the more special, and even if he had a hectic day at school he could turn on the console and water pretend flowers on a pretend island, and for those few moments, all was right with the world.

He was pulling weeds to sell to Timmy for bells when his screen pinged in the corner that made his blood run cold.

(Gamertag) is online

Playing: Animal Crossing New Horizons

That’s right, you had friended him on the switch after realizing all his friends had one, and now with a fourth person they could have a full team online. Mirio has suggested everyone exchange codes, and you had taken the liberty of showing him how to punch in the code and adding yourself while he sat there trying not to melt into his seat at how excited you got, or how nice you smelled up close. You had passed it back with a beaming grin, telling him you couldn’t wait to do co-ops. At the time he could only nod, speechless as the rest of his friends made idle chatter until the bell rung, and everyone scurried back to class.

He quickly realized he had left the terminal gate open when he was poking around the various features, learning about what each thing does in game. He tried sprinting to the airport to close the gates, and he made it to the dock before a big green banner flashed across his screen reading “you have a visitor!”

Out of the threshold popped your avatar, and for a moment he was grateful he could hide behind a screen. He wanted to be mad, upset even, that you had wandered onto his digital sanctuary, but couldn’t find it in himself because, then again, it was you.

The Nookphone in the top left corner buzzed to life, and he opened up the chat log with shaky hands. In a cutesy, pastel speech bubble was your message, and he wondered how something that was once so therapeutic to him could do a 180 and suddenly become the source of his anxiety.

G/T: Hello! Sorry to pop in unannounced, I hope you don’t mind^^

Tamaki felt his mouth go dry, reading it in your voice and after steadying his breathing, he painstakingly typed out a response.

Suneater: its ok.

G/T: It’s kinda hard to find others to play with when the game isn’t even released yet >~<

Suneater: Oh?

He should have known it was too good to be true. You were only visiting him because no one else was on yet. He sighed, trying to keep the dread from crawling back in before another note popped up.

G/T: The game doesn’t actually release until the first day of spring, but working at (s/n) has its perks. I saw the trailers and the hype and figured it would be the perfect game for you.

He felt a wave of relief wash over him upon reading that. So he wasn’t the last choice- rather, the game simply wasn’t out to the general public yet. But if that was the case, how did you also get a copy?

Suneater: thats nice of you

G/T: And then a little birdy told me you had a birthday coming up, so since I have a couple connections after I got my copy, I asked my manager if they’d set aside one more.

Suneater: you

Suneater: you were the one who helped get it early?

Boy did he feel stupid now. You worked at (s/n), (as you had literally just mentioned in your previous notes), Nejire got him a game that wasn’t out yet, you guys were all mutual friends- how did he not put two and two together?!

G/T: Yes lol that would be me^ you liking it so far? You picked a good name for the island too.

“Sunshine Island” may have seemed a little cliche to most people, but Tamaki had so many things in his life linked to it that by this point, it was just routine. Mirio was his sun in dark times. His nickname Suneater, even the sunflowers he had received from his parents for his birthday each year was tradition. He knew not everyone would see it the way he did, but to him, it was perfect, and he was definitely chuffed when he thought it up and punched it in for the first time.

To hear you loved it too sent a swell of pride through him, and he wondered if it was possible to love someone as much as he did just then.

Suneater: you really think so?

G/T: Absolutely

And with that, the two of you explored Sunshine Island together, he showed you his tent, the shops, and the little orchard of peaches he had arranged. You were impressed by the amount of detail and care that went into arranging everything, and asked if he’d be willing to help you with your island sometime, to which he obliged.

You guys did some more walking, and he told you to feel free to shake theres and take a couple fruits with you. His native fruit was peaches, and in exchange you dropped a couple of your own fruits from your island on the ground for him to pick up so he could have more variety in his world.

G/T: There’s six different kinds, and each island is assigned one main type of fruit. the more you visit with friends, the more biodiversity you’ll get. Pretty cool right? I have some spare (F/N), and if you take and plant those, they'll grow and multiply!

His avatar hesitantly wandered over to the offering after yours stepped back a little to let him take them. Your generousity was surely appreciated, and even though you couldn't see it, he smiled softly before typing out a new message.

Suneater: Thank you. I’ll go plant those.

The game might have been synced up with real time, even getting darker after a certain hour- yet despite it being outside, neither one of you noticed just how much time had passed between all the bug catching, fishing, exploring and talking. When your screen loaded up a clock that read 2:54 AM, you blinked a few times, as if that would change the reading. But lo and behold, it was going for 3am on a school night, and you knew you both had to get to bed.

G/T: Ah beans its 3am, I gotta get to bed soon. Thanks for letting me hang out on your island, and sorry for keeping you awake >~<

Suneater: don't be sorry, i had a lot of fun. can we play together again sometime?

G/T: Of course! I can't wait to meet up again. Maybe we can visit my island next time? I should have those peaches planted by then, and you can teach me your ways, oh master landscaper.

Tamaki chuckled out loud at that, blushing, as he suddenly had a brilliant idea.

Suneater: That would be nice. Wait here a second.

He scurried off to a patch of flowers he had blooming, and with a shovel, picked up a few in your favorite color before making his way back over and dropping them in front of you.

Suneater: You can start by planting a few of these around your island. It is your favorite color, right?

Now it was your turn to blush as you picked up the (f/c) flowers he dropped in front of you, smiling like a goon at his burst of confidence. How he remembered your favorite color is beyond you, but hey- you weren’t complaining.

G/T: They’re perfect, thank you Tama!

Suneater: You're welcome. I’ll see you tomorrow?

G/N: You know it! Goodnight <3

And on that note you walked down to the airport, his avatar following close behind as if to see you off. It was a simple gesture, but appreciated nonetheless. Both of you powered down your switches for the night before plugging them in, and promptly hopping into your respective beds with racing hearts. It was the perfect end to your digital “date” and you couldn’t wait to log in again.

Thank you for reading! Feedback and reblogs are appreciated. Hope you guys enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it. The inbox is always open for future ideas, so don’t be afraid to drop in.

Also gonna tag @katsukisprincess cause I mean...Animal Crossing and wholesome Tamaki fluff. ‘Nuff said.

#bug mom writes #amajiki tamaki x reader #tamaki amajiki x reader #acnh #bnha #mha x reader #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #boku no hero academia x reader #tamaki x reader #amajiki tamaki #tamaki amajiki #x reader imagine #fluff

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cordytriestowrite · 4 years ago

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Excuses and Uses

Bucky Barnes x Reader

One Shot

Summary: Excuses were all you got from Bucky. Uses were all he wanted from you. (Aka I need a world where F&WS exists and until then I make up my own plots thanks)

"Bucky, what a surprise."

Your greeting was laced heavily with sarcasm. It was in fact not a surprise to have Bucky Barnes knocking on your door long after it was appropriate to receive visitors. You were in your sushi pajamas for Pete's sake! Despite those comically cute pieces of sashimi littering your clothing Bucky looked at least a little guilty to be standing in front if you, even if he had a not so cute arsenal of guns and knives littering his body you weren't intimidated.

"I need your help."

Rolling your eyes you turned around and left Bucky in the doorway of your studio apartment. You picked up a few pieces of scattered clothing so you wouldn't attempt to wrap your hands around his thick neck and squeeze the annoying life right out of him.

"You never come over to hang out you know. Not even to see your son!"

Bucky closed the door behind him and almost immediately Alpine was winding between his legs, rubbing and purring, happy to see his true owner. Alpine, in his snooty cat way, made sure you knew where you ranked on the totem pole despite filling his food bowl every day.

Bucky picked up the feline and buried his face into his fluffy white fur. When he spoke again his words were muffled.

"He knows I still love him. Even if I can't see him all the time."

You honestly weren't sure if he was telling you or the cat but you felt like arguing anyway.

"I have Mario Kart. It's like, your favorite game and you don't ever come over to play."

Alpine jumped from Bucky's arms as he moved further into what was designated as the living room, even if there were no walls separating the couch from your bed, refrigerator, or washing machine.

"I don't have time to play."

"Bullshit." You muttered under your breath, tossing a misplaced fork into the sink, letting the loud clang of metal on metal hide the curse. Excuses and uses were all you got from Bucky and all he wanted from you. You took a few seconds to settle down before turning to face him.

"What can I do for you Bucky?"

He was in his usual spot. Not quite in the living space, not close enough to the door to be heard by a nosey neighbor, not quite close enough to you.

"I have a lead I need you to look into."

You just didn't have the strength to keep doing this. It was late, you were tired, and honestly if Bucky wasn't going to treat you like anything more than a human search engine then you weren't interested in moving forward with this conversation.

"Go ask Sharon." You said dismissively, walking around the couch and putting more distance between you and Bucky.

"Sharon can't know about this. Sam either. You're the only one. I need you."

You ignored him. At first you there was a thrill in being Bucky's confidant, in having a secret mission just you and him, but all you ended up feeling now was lonely and more than a bit bitter. You pulled back your blankets, slid out of your slippers, and crawled into bed.

"Agent-"

Your back was turned to Bucky. You spoke loud and clear so it would get through his thick skull, because obviously your physical dismissal of him was a bit too subtle.

"I'm no longer an agent, Soldier. I quit remember? For you."

You turned over, the comforter pulled up to your chin so the parts of you that were exposed were cold and hard; your eyes and mouth set with stubborn lines of tension.

"And I have a name. Do I need to remind you of it? Goodnight."

You turned your back to him again, hitting the light switch near your head and plunging the studio into darkness. You could feel Alpine's paws gently press against your toes as he joined you.

What should have come next was a few footsteps leading away from you then the opening and closing of your front door, but instead you felt the mattress dip near your hip, then a matching weight on the other side as Bucky briefly straddled you before wedging his large, fully armed and armored body between you and the wall. You could barely see him in the dark, but you could hear him clearly utter your name. You let out a hollow laugh and hoped it hid how nervous Bucky's proximity was making you.

"So you do know it. Could've fooled me."

Bucky was quiet for a long time. That combined with his uncanny ability to keep entirely still meant you drifted off and only realized it when he spoke.

"I'm sorry. I'd love to play Mario Kart."

You smiled, blinking slow as sleep made your eyelids heavy.

"Too sleepy. In the morning." You muttered, lips barely moving to form the words.

Gentle fingers brushed through the hair at your temple, lulling you further into an unconscious state. You resurfaced at the feeling of Bucky moving over you. Your body followed him as he made his exit

"Buck, the lead."

If the cold metal palm against your cheek wasn't enough to wake you up the press of lips to your forehead would have raised you from the dead.

"It can wait."

A few footsteps, then the opening and closing of your front door and he was gone. Your thoughts stayed on him long after he left and until the thinnest strip of sunlight colored the dark sky a dusky blue-grey.

You woke up late the next day, much to Alpine's displeasure. He made sure to dig his claws deep enough to scratch your feet as he stretched and sauntered toward the corner kitchen.

"Not even my cat." You grumbled, pulling back the covers and following the small white ball of attitude. He waited impatiently for his breakfast, meowing and batting at your hand when he deemed the task was taking too long by his standards. He didn't even wait for his bowl to be moved to the floor, digging in the second you finished scraping the lumpy, wet chunks of fish and carrot out of the can.

You watched Alpine chow down without really seeing him. Your mind was back to last night and the way Bucky said your name, the way his fingers carded through your hair, the way he pressed his lips to your forehead. It all seemed so unreal, unlikely to be something that could ever happen, so you assumed your mind had made it all up. It was the only way it made sense to you.

Bucky wasn't the guy from last night, he was a super soldier with a super chip on his shoulder who happened to like Mario Kart but refused to play because God forbid he experience any joy in life. You were his pet sitter, his informant, the woman who went rogue from the new and improved S.H.I.E.L.D. the moment those big blue eyes sparkled in your general direction and just happened to steal a high tech laptop on her way out. You and Bucky Barnes weren't friends. You were just the idiot who allowed yourself to be used. You understood that now.

A knock on your door pulled you out of that head space. You shook your head and rubbed the sleep and bit of teariness from your eye before you opened the door.

It was Bucky, no longer decked out in leather and weaponry. His hair fluffy and productless, and his black and gold arm covered by a slightly baggy navy hoodie. He looked normal and that made it so odd.

"Didn't know you took days off Barnes." You greeted sarcastically, arms crossing over your sleep wrinkled sushi pajama top.

Bucky started to smile, bit his lip to hide it, then relented to a playful smirk.

"I didn't either."

You eye him skeptically before turning around and walking into your living room, bending over to pull your stolen S.H.I.E.L.D. laptop out of its hiding place between the couch and the wall. You sat down and powered it on.

"What's the name?" You asked plainly, knowing your tone was clipped with anger despite your best efforts toseem unaffected.

Bucky closed the front door behind him before bypassing his usual spot just beyond reach to sit next to you on the couch. He was close, granted it was a loveseat and the man was thick in all the best ways, but he was closer than necessary. Knee to shoulder you were connected and in the light of day at this proximity you could see flecks of grey growing at his temple. Of course he would be a silver fox, you thought.

"Mario."

You accessed the database and typed in the name.

"Got a last name?" You asked, desperately glaring at the screen as to not give in to the desire to keep looking at Bucky up close.

"Kart."

You typed in the word and hit search and Bucky was already deep in laughter before it hit you. Slamming your laptop closed you leapt up from the couch and pulled the joycons off the dock.

Alpine, finished licking his bowl clean, finally noticed Bucky and had bounded over to claim his attention. You passed Bucky a controller and plopped back down next to him, purposely tucking yourself surely into his side. You looked at him excitedly, no longer attempting to hide behind a mask of cool indifference. He was looking back with something in his eyes that made your whole body flush with a sudden warmth.

"So the lead can wait then?"

He nodded, happy expression turning a tad too serious as he searched your face.

"Thank you for always taking care of Alpine. And helping me with missions even though its dangerous. And introducing me to Mario Kart. And-"

You would have let him continue if your heart could handle it. It was pounding so hard against your sternum. And your mouth, it hurt with the intensity of your smile. Your eyes were misty again and before could think it through you planted a solid kiss to Bucky's stubbled cheek, silencing him instantly. It was as you pulled away, an apology already waiting on your tongue, that Bucky turned his head so his lips met yours.

Your lips tingled, numb from elation and nerves. It was a firm and warm and chaste and, while totally unexpected, perfect kiss. So maybe Bucky was the guy laying in your bed last night, maybe he was also kind of an ass who forgot that life wasn't always about the mission. People can be multidimensional!

Alpine, realizing he wasn't the center of Bucky's world at the moment, stretched up on his hind legs to swat a tiny paw against your joined lips. You separated with laughter, giving Alpine scratches behind the ears while he purred in contentment. You couldn't be upset when Bucky picked up his controller instead of kissing you again, seeing his easy smile and bright eyes was enough.

"So, Rainbow Road?"

"Oh, I'll kick your ass Barnes!"

Alpine was a great ally in distracting Bucky from beating you to the finish line and kissing was a great weapon both of you wielded excessively to the point the game was long forgotten in favor of making out on the couch.

Before Bucky departed later that evening, after an entire afternoon with no talk about a mission or a lead and without any brooding or far away gazes, you wondered if it was too good to be true. He had to feel the change in your posture when he asked between open mouth kisses against your neck.

"Take a look into that lead for me?"

You pulled away, your glare intense.

"Just tell me if you're just using me. With Alpine, intel, or now being your fuck buddy, whatever. I don't want excuses, Bucky. I don't want to be lied to."

Bucky didn't have to have to open his mouth to say anything, his eyes so expressive in initial surprise, then anger so great it tightened the muscle in his jaw, his expression settled into a somber determination and when he opened his mouth you wished you had never said anything and just enjoyed the attention.

"No excuses. I'm not good at...I spent so long being used I don't think I know…"

You wrapped your arms around Bucky. It was awkward with your position on the couch and how broad his shoulders were but it seemed important to just hold him. He held you back in strong and solid arms you weren't sure you would ever be held by again. You had your cheek pressed against his shoulder and eyes steadfast on the coffee table as you took a deep breath and tried not to cry. If this was a hug of comfort you weren't sure who was supposed to be feeling comforted. To you it felt like a hug goodbye, because no way could you keep doing this.

"Figure it out, okay."

Bucky left not long after, untangling from you while keeping his head down, scooping up Alpine on his way out.

You thought that was going to be it from him. You didn't expect Bucky to recover from decades of abuse anytime soon so you went on with your life. Sharon stopped by to collect the stolen laptop, promising no one would know where it snuck off to in the last few months. You stayed home a lot, willfully ignoring the reason you stayed home every night was in case Bucky stopped by. You bought new pajamas with little white kittens on them, then promptly shipped them back after opening the box.

You finally got off your ass and got a new job. Private and slightly sketchy, but confirmed by Sharon it wasn't the world dominating kind of sketchy, the job was right in your comfort zone. Bright and early you were dressed and ready to head out for your first day of work and when you opened the door you almost ran into the wall of metal and muscle that is Bucky Barnes.

"Bucky? And Alpine!"

A small white head poked sleepily out of Bucky's worn leather jacket. Alpine yawned before meowing up at Bucky who instinctively stroked a few fingers between his ears.

"Sharon said you were starting your new job today and I-we, me and Alpine, wanted to come wish you luck."

You tried not to frown, not wanting to give the wrong impression, so you turned around and locked your door at a deliberately slow pace. Had he been keeping tabs on you or was it just some small talk with Sharon? By the time you turned back around you couldn't help but smile at the sight before you.

Bucky, short hair combed neatly, leather riding jacket zipped up to hold his kitten securely to his chest, hands gloved, jeans dark. He looked cool and confident until you looked into his eyes and saw how out of his depth he really was.

"Walk me to work?"

Bucky nodded, shoulders sagging in what seemed to be relief. You spent the walk catching up and laughing. It felt like Bucky and you had finally reached a friendship that wasn't based on how you could be benefit to him.

Until Bucky moved in for a goodbye hug while you leaned in to kiss his cheek. Then it was more like a two idiots fiercely making out in front of one of those idiots new place of employment until the receptionist asked you to move the show somewhere else. But the two idiots agreed to talk later over a game of Mario Kart.

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chipper9906 · 4 years ago

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Third Times The Charm

WARNING: SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 15 (Episode 03: The Rupture, Episode 09: The Trap

Pairings: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 6,508

Status: One Shot - Complete

Chapter Preview:

“Well… not… not that part,” Dean stutters out, taken aback by the fiery, spitting rage that Cas so rarely displays towards him. “If you’d just let me-,”

“No,” Castiel interrupts him, slowly rising back up with his duffel in hand. “You think you’re trying, Dean. You really do. But when it comes down to it, you’re not entirely ready to apologize to me. Not yet.” Dean couldn’t even get a word out as Cas reached into his trench-coat pocket before firmly planting something into his hand – something familiarly rectangular and thin in shape. “And even if you are… I’m certainly not ready to forgive.”

* * *

Three times Dean Winchesters attempts to "apologize" to Castiel. Except... This is Dean Winchester. Apologies aren't exactly his strong point.

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He knew he’d messed it all up the second the words left his mouth. And yet, in that moment of overboiling, long over-due anger spilling out, he simply didn’t have enough reasoning left to realize it.

So, he said it.

“Yeah, why does that something always seem to be you?”

Cas had looked at him like he had physically hit him. He might as well have. But through the seething rage he felt, he just didn’t care that he had hurt Cas. A part of him felt good about it. Vindicated. Because if he was hurting, then Cas should, too.

And maybe that’s why… that’s why he can’t take it back. It’s why he can’t just apologize, tell Cas that he didn’t mean it, that it was a moment where he wasn’t thinking right. And that right there was the problem. He had meant it. He had been thinking back to all those times, all those fuck ups that have happened in their lives, and there was no doubt that Cas was involved in a lot of them. Maybe it had been something clung to the back of his mind, building, and building until he was pushed over the edge.

But it didn’t matter. He had said it, and he couldn’t take it back. He couldn’t remove the pain he had inflicted on Cas.

And he still wasn’t sure if he wanted to.

But that was beside the point. They didn’t have time for this. They didn’t have time for petty silent treatments, and the boatload of therapy they probably needed. Mom was dead, Jack was dead, Rowena was dead, they had just barely averted yet another goddamn Apocalypse whilst simultaneously being thrown into another; this one with God himself out on a personal vendetta against them, and the entire friggen Universe, and goddammit, they didn’t have the time for Cas to go off sulking on his own!

So now that’s why he was sat here on the edge of the map table, phone in hand, staring glumly down at Cas’s name as it glowed back at him from the screen, thumb hovering just over his name. He didn’t have much faith that the call would even go through, considering the past twenty or so times he’s tried so far were sent straight to Cas’s voicemail. And not in a way that suggested his phone was off, or even that he was letting it ring out and not answering it. Dean knew that the few brief rings he heard before being cut off by Cas’s voicemail could only mean that the bastard saw Dean was calling and was rejecting the damn call.

Which is why, as he waited to be greeted by the same annoying voicemail message he’s listened to way too many times now, he’s caught by surprise when he’s instead greeted by the click of the call connecting, and the loud silence of Cas on the other end, not speaking.

“Cas? You there?”

Nothing but silence greets him. For a moment, the annoying part of him that still cares starts envisioning the worst scenarios. What if it wasn’t Cas? What if someone or something had killed him, and the killer wanted to know who the hell was stubborn enough to call someone twelve times in the span of around four minutes.

But no, it’s Cas that answers on the other end of the line with a very curt and unfriendly sounding, “What?”

Dean just about holds his tongue – pretty much has to bite down on it to stop himself from saying something he shouldn’t – and takes a deep, not at all calming breath. “Any reason you’ve been ignoring both mine and Sammy’s calls?”

“I think the answer to that question is fairly obvious,” Cas’s answer is scathing, dripping with levels of sarcasm that Dean didn’t think angels could even reach.

“Alright, fine. But couldn’t you at least answer Sammy’s calls? Or even just his messages?”

“No.”

Another deep breath, Winchester.

“And why’s that?” Dean gets out through gritted teeth, hearing his phone crack and groan in protest under his vice-like grip.

“Because I don’t want to.”

Turns out, that’s all he needed to be pushed over the edge again.

“Yeah? Well, Cas, funnily enough, you don’t always get what you want. Woulda’ thought you of all people would have learned that by now, with as much time you spend with us. And you know what? Now isn’t one of those times where you get what you want. Hell, what neither of us want. But we both know that the crap going down right now is bigger than what you, or me, or Sammy, or anyone wants. So how about we both put aside our hissy fits for the time being, get over our own damn egos, and you get your feathery ass back here and help us figure out how the hell we’re supposed to kill God?”

His voice has raised perhaps a little bit too much near the end there, so much that he felt like it was ringing in his ears for a while after he had stopped talking; perhaps even enough to drown out whatever it was that Cas decided to respond with. Except, Cas didn’t respond. Not for a while, anyway. Nothing but silence – in the form of crackling white noise – emitted from Dean’s speaker, stretching on long enough that he had to take his phone away from his ear and check the screen to see if the phone was still connected.

And then Cas laughed.

He’s pretty sure he can count on one hand the number of times he’s heard Cas laugh, and this one… was not a good one. There was some amusement in it, but mostly it just sounded tired. And… a little bit bordering on insane.

“Something funny?” Dean damn near growled down the phone.

Cas’s laughter faded away at that. “No. No, I suppose there isn’t.”

A single beep emitted from the speaker. Gone was the white noise. Gone was Cas’s voice.

Cas had hung up on him.

Dean takes another deep breath, one just as unsuccessful as the last few. He holds the phone limply in his closed fist, staring blankly out into the bunker before bringing his fist down hard on the table, barely resisting the urge to launch his “too expensive to keep breaking through rage or hunts” across the room.

“You stubborn son of a bitch,” Dean grits out, balancing his phone in his lap as he massages his now sore hand. “Just gotta make this complicated, don’t you…”

The idea pops into his head right then and there, jumping down from the table and settling into an actual seat. He pulls his laptop towards him, flipping open the top and getting to work. “Fine, Cas. You don’t wanna come back home? Then I’ll come to you…”

* * *

There were a lot of things Dean thought Cas might be doing in some small town out in the middle of nowhere.

Well, not a lot of things. Actually… Dean had no idea. The last time Cas went off on his own – admittedly, not of his fault – he had gone and tried to be a proper citizen of America with his own degrading, low-paying, soul-sucking retail job. He supposed that was a possibility, but, he doubted it. Most of the time, Cas is… well, with him, Dean supposed. Helping him and Sam with whatever big ugly had decided to rear its head for the year. Cas didn’t really get much free time, didn’t have much time for hobbies (neither did he unless you counted drinking and porn watching, but whatever), so of all the things he expected for Cas to be doing…

Fishing certainly wasn’t one of them.

Cas had managed to find himself a nice little dock to fish off as well. A cozy, hidden spot within the reeds, far out enough from civilization that Dean actually had to hike out here to find him. Admittedly, he was a little pissed to have to leave Baby behind and hike for four friggen hours in the heat whilst swiping away blood-sucking mosquitos, but it wasn’t like he had much of a choice.

There was a single fishing rod cast out into the water, its little neon orange bobber oddly still despite drifting amidst the gentle waves created by the evening’s wind as it blew across the surface of the water. Strangely, there was an honest to God boom-box sat next to Cas, which would have undoubtedly scared away any fish in the area if it was playing music. Which… it wasn’t. Even from the other end of the dock, Dean could see the tape holder was open and empty.

Dean stands there long enough to see the little bobber start bobbing in the water, flicking left and right as fish nibble on its bait. It’s not long after that the lure disappears completely, sinking below the surface of the water and into its murky depths as a fish takes the bait. But… Cas doesn’t react. In fact, he hadn’t even been looking at the lure. He must have been holding something in his hands - what exactly that is, Dean can’t see from here – as he can tell from Cas’s hunched posture that this mysterious object must be whatever had won Cas’s attention over his bait being taken.

“You know, you’re actually supposed to catch the fish when fishing. I get that it’s supposed to be relaxing, but… you could at least try to catch something when it’s on the end of your hook.”

Cas doesn’t jump or startle at his voice, much to Dean’s secret displeasure. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if Cas somehow sensed his presence. Maybe he could smell his scent or something. Hear his heartbeat. Feel his soul. Something like that.

What he does do is sigh. Loudly. Loud enough for Dean to hear from all the way over here, which kinda hurts if he’s being honest. That being said, he does put away whatever he was holding into his coat’s pocket and picks up the rod at Dean’s words and hooks the fish, reeling it in like he’s done it a hundred times before.

“I thought I’d give it a try. Perhaps make some sense of my thoughts,” Cas says without looking back at him, keeping his gaze fixated on the water ahead. “Try and see why so many are invested in this past time. I suppose maybe it’d be different if I was human, but… I just don’t get quite the same satisfaction.” It seems that, in a blink of an eye, Cas has the fish reeled in and dangling in the air in front of him. He gets the hook out of its mouth just as quick, looking down to the decent-sized carp he held in his hands. “What is it about fishing that makes it so worthwhile to humans? Is it the struggle of trying to reel it in? The sense of satisfaction you get out of pulling this creature from its habitat? Some feeling of power, a superiority, that you’ve outsmarted and outmuscled a lesser being than yourself?”

“Uh… I’m not much one for philosophical debates, Cas,” Dean looks to Cas wide-eyed, taking a few cautious steps onto the dock and towards him. “I just find it relaxing, I suppose. Bobby used to take me and Sammy out a few times when dad was off on hunts. We wouldn’t talk about dad, or where he’d be taking us once he got back - - if he got back. It was nice to just sit out in the sun, Bobby and Sam next to me and… get to feel some sense of peace that I haven’t felt since I was four.”

Castiel only hums at that, gently lowering the fish back down into the water and letting it swim away. “How did you find me?”

Dean steps even closer. “Sammy put a tracker on your phone a long time ago, bud. Can never be too careful.”

“Sam did?” Cas said, sounding genuinely surprised. The first bit of emotion Dean had heard slip into his voice.

“Yeah. I actually argued with him over it, believe it or not,” Dean shoves his hands into his jacket pockets, keeping a small amount of space between him and Cas. “Guess it turned out useful…”

Cas was still refusing to look at him, which was all kinds of frustrating. “When did…”

“Not long after you came back from… y’know… the Empty,” Dean gets out. “But, uh… he brought it up after you knocked us out with your mojo and ran off with Kelly against our wishes.”

Cas tenses up at that, carelessly tossing his fishing rod to the floor next to him and finally, finally, standing up from the edge of the dock and turning to face Dean. “And if I’d have gone with your wishes, there would have been every chance that Jack would have ended up dead – perhaps before he was even born!”

“Yeah? Well, he ended up dead anyway, didn’t he?” Dean says it like the words don’t hurt him as much as it does Cas. He says it like he doesn’t see the way Cas’s face fall, the little frustration he held shifts into what can only be described as both shock and grief. And then, to make it worse – and because he just can’t his mouth shout – he makes it a hundred times worse. “Maybe we’d be better off if we had stopped him from being born. At least then mom would still be alive.”

There wasn’t any grief left on Cas’s face. No sadness, no anger. It was nothing but disgust that he held for Dean and his words, and Dean knew he deserved such a look from Cas, but it wasn’t exactly like the rational part of his brain that knows this is in control right now.

“What do you want, Dean?” Castiel asks him, sounding too small and tired for a mighty angel of the Lord. “Did you track me all this way, come all the way out here to… what? To hurt me more?”

“No!” Dean yells, which totally defeats the point of what he’s trying to go with here. “No, that’s not why…” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and scrunching his eyes shut. “I… I came to bring you home.”

Castiel raises a single eyebrow up at him. “To… bring me home?”

“Yeah. You know, back to the bunker. Look Cas, I’m not stupid enough to pretend that I… that we don’t still need you.”

“That’s surprising to hear,” Castiel bites back. “Considering you think I’m the ‘thing’ that goes wrong in every mess we’ve been through.”

“That’s not-,” Dean tries, but Cas has already turned his back to him; hurriedly picking his fishing rod back up and began disassembling it. “I’m trying, okay?”

“Trying to do what?” Castiel grumbles under his breath, pulling apart the rod pieces a little harsher than he intended.

“What the hell do you think?!” Dean throws his hands in the air, letting his irritation boil over. “I’m trying to make things right, I guess. Trying to… to apologize.”

Castiel actually pauses in trying to stuff the rod back into its duffel, his head snapping up to look at Dean. “Apologize…? In what part of you admitting your wish for Jack to have been terminated before birth should I take as an apology?”

“Well… not… not that part,” Dean stutters out, taken aback by the fiery, spitting rage that Cas so rarely displays towards him. “If you’d just let me-,”

There was nothing Dean could do. Nothing but stand there in astonishment as Cas simply walked right by him, leaving him there standing at the end of the dock staring down at the object Cas has pressed into his hand. And honestly, this in itself was more painful than anything Cas could have ever said in return.

In his hand was a clearly well used, well-loved mixtape, his own writing staring back at him in crudely drawn sharpie on the faded white label:

‘Deans top 13 Zepp TRA XX’

“Thought I told you you’re supposed to keep gifts,” Dean just about manages to get out, braving a look up at Cas’s retreating form.

Castiel’s steps halt for just a moment. Just long enough to say one more thing before continuing on his way. “You did. But, it is to my knowledge that you only keep a gift so long as it is wanted, is it not?”

Never mind. He was wrong.

That hurt a lot more.

* * *

He was a dick.

He knew that. He got that now. But now, it seemed, was too late.

He can’t say he wasn’t angry, because he was. What he can say was that he held onto that anger for too long. That he didn’t stop for a moment to look at things the way Cas probably did. Instead, he only saw things the way his anger wanted to, to keep him steeped in that burning rage, letting himself lash out at Cas because it was easy. Because he’d put the blame on Cas so many times before, so why not do it again?

And now, Cas might be…

No. No, he refuses to believe it. Cas is fine. He’s made it out of a few bad scraps before, he’s sure Cas will find a way to take out those dick-head leviathans and… and Eve… the mother of all monsters… right?

“CAS!” His yell echoes between the trees that surround him, seemingly amplified by the low fog that swirls around him. An endlessly hopeful part of him expects to see that trench-coat-wearing idiot stumbling towards him in the distance, maybe a little bloodied and battle-worn but otherwise whole. But there’s nothing. Nothing but the odd stillness of Purgatory when creatures aren’t busy ripping each other apart.

How long had it been now? It had felt like he has been out here, wandering aimlessly for any sign of Cas for hours. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out his phone, and that awful squeeze of fear clenches around his heart at the timer ticking down, making it hard to breathe.

29 minutes. That was all he had. 29 minutes to find Cas in the whole of Purgatory and get them back to the portal in time. It took him damn near an entire year to find Cas the last time. 29 minutes just wasn’t enough, and it wasn’t fair. He couldn’t… He couldn’t tell Cas what’s been tearing him up inside, can’t tell him what Cas shouldn’t have to hear from him to know, and now he never will and-

“No, no no…” The words spill out of his mouth without his permission, sounding as close to a whimper of pain that actual words possibly could.

He didn’t want to do it like this. Hell, he didn’t even know if Cas even had enough grace left to hear him. But he had to try. It worked last time, didn’t it? Every damn night…

“Cas? Cas I hope you can hear me… that wherever you are, it’s not too late,” It was harder than he expected, saying this out loud. Almost like he was accepting that he was never going to speak to Cas again. Never get to say these words face to face. “I should’ve stopped you. You’re my best friend, but I just let you go. ‘Cause it was easier than admitting I was wrong.”

The incessant burning in his eyes gets too much, the heavy weight in his nose forcing a shaky sniffle out of him. He reaches out a hand to the tree next to him, barely enough time to process the scratchy roughness of the bark before his wobbly knees are giving out, forcing him down to a crouch, leaning his weight against the tree.

“I… Ohh…” He nearly says it, but the words get caught in the back of his throat. ‘Not yet’ a voice seems to whisper in his head. It was at least better than the voice that would always whisper ‘Never’ whenever he let himself think those words. “I don’t know why I get so angry. I just know – I know that – I-it’s always been there. And when things go bad, it just – it comes out. And I can’t – I can’t stop it. No matter how-,” His voice catches once more. He was well past the point of holding the tears back. “-How bad I want to, I just can’t stop it.”

This was it. He couldn’t hold back now. Not when this might be his last chance. Even if… Even if Cas was no longer alive to hear this message. “And – And I – I forgive you. Of course I forgive you. And – God, Cas. I love you. You hear me? I love you. And I – I’m sorry it took me so long. I’m sorry it took me till now, till it might be too damn late to say it. Cas, I’m – I’m so sorry. I hope you can hear me… Please, hear me…”

He can almost hear the ‘whomp’ of wings he hasn’t heard in years. Could almost envision the sight of Cas stood behind him, head tilted to the side, looking to him in genuine angel curiosity as he answers Dean’s prayers. But when he looks around, the forests of Purgatory look just as empty through his tear-filled vision as they did moments before. “Okay…” Dean forces himself up, wiping a hand down his face to wipe away any evidence of what had just happened. Reset himself back to Dean Winchester. Hunter. Son of John Winchester.

Get the job done. Get back home.

His mind seems to switch off after that. He’s sure he looked every part the stereotypical zombies in the movies and tv shows and comics as he shuffles forward in the direction of the portal, face blank and devoid of life, shotgun heavy in hand and only the barest of survival instincts keeping an eye out for any movement within the trees.

He wasn’t far now. Just up ahead was his way out of here. He would step through, and be home. Without the flower. And… and without Cas. Mom. Jack. Rowena. Now Cas? What was the point? Would the world expect him to keep fighting if he lost Sammy too? And… God, what if Cas wasn’t dead? What if he walks through that portal, letting it close behind him, and leaves Cas here to be trapped for eternity?

Maybe he still had time. Maybe he could-

No. He didn’t. The timer on his phone displaying the numbers ’00:02:56’ proved as much. There wasn’t time. Cas was-

“Dean?”

Both hands are wrapped around his shotgun and pointing it towards the direction of the voice before his mind has fully caught up. His finger slides away from the trigger as his mouth falls open, lowering the end of the shotgun down at the sight of Cas, glorious Cas, looking a little worse for wear sat at the base of a tree. He looked every bit as dirty, bloodied, and miserable as anyone would after nearly twenty-four hours in Purgatory, but it didn’t matter, as it was the best sight Dean had ever seen.

Cas looks equally as shocked to see him, grimacing to himself as he pushes himself up to stand. “You made it?”

Dean can’t help but laugh. Not really the time for laughing, but it was mostly the delirium and pure, sweet relief bursting out of him. “I made it?”

Cas stumbles towards him, a bit of a limp in his gait, and Dean quickly makes up the short distance between them, throwing his arms around Cas and pulling the angel towards him. Cas feels real and solid pressed against his chest, and Dean thumps his hands against Cas’s back almost to prove to himself that the whole of Cas is here and intact. He almost wasn’t. He almost lost one of the only people left in this world he can say that he loves.

Which... which he’s said now.

“You okay?” Dean asks as soon as he feels Cas begin to push away from him, letting his eyes scan across Cas’s form to check for any obvious wounds or spilling of grace.

“I’m fine,” Castiel insists, probably a lie if Dean knows him. But, other than the sluggishly bleeding scrape on Cas’s head, he does look fine.

“What happened?”

“They were after me, not you,” Castiel gets out through panting, pained-sounding breaths. Yeah, sure. Fine. “I figured it would be safest to give myself up.”

And there it is again. Just another goddamn slap to the face. Even after everything that’s happened, after all the awful crap he’s said to Cas, the way he’s treated him… Cas was so willing to just put himself in the firing line for him.

‘These are not just monsters, Dean. They’re Leviathan. I have a price on my head, and I’ve been trying to stay one step ahead of them, to – to keep them away from you.’

“They take you to Eve?”

“Yeah. We were en route. I waited until I… saw this,” Cas reached into his trench-coat pocket, pulling out a sad-looking excuse for a flower that looked about as beat up as the person holding it. “It… got a little smushed.”

Dean could almost cry. Again. Here Cas was, somehow having escaped from a bunch of freak leviathans before being handed over to what would likely be horrendous torture and a death sentence from the mother of all monsters, manages to find the stupid fucking flower they came all the way out here for, get all the way back to the portal where he sits and waits for him… and he looks embarrassed that the flower got a little ‘smushed?’

That’s beside the fact that he probably crushed it by hugging Cas.

“Once I had the blossom, I fought; caught them off guard,” Cas continued. “They fought back. I managed to get away.”

Dean smiles. For what feels like the first time in quite a while, he smiles. “You did it. You did it, Cas.”

And then, by some miracle by God – wait no, not him, by something or someone… Cas gives him a tentative smile back. “Well, they’re still after me. We should hurry,” Cas gestures with a small shake of his head towards the portal, already starting to move away.

“Okay, Cas I need to say something-,”

“You don’t have to say it,” Castiel interrupts, that tentative smile back on his face. “I heard your prayer.”

But that wasn’t enough. Sure, it was of some comfort knowing that the prayer had at least reached Cas, but… but something didn’t sit right with him about that. Besides the fact that what he said is something that really should be said face to face (and maybe sending a message like that over the prayer is the equivalent of sending it over text message or… or voicemail?), Cas’s reaction was just… not what he was expecting. Not that Cas was ever entirely predictable in his reactions, and perhaps basing what Cas’s reaction would be on what his reaction would be if Cas ever confessed to him like that wasn’t the best of ideas, but… still, it was odd. Dean was expecting at least something, some sort of reaction to his words other than an acknowledgment that it had been heard.

Cas was right, though. They really needed to hurry; what with a bunch of leviathans after them and probably around 30 seconds left before the portal closes behind them.

They race towards the portal, his hand on Cas’s back helping to push him forward as he struggles with that new limp of his. Dean can hear his pulse racing in his ears as they step closer and closer to the portal, watching its light flicker and shimmer as it struggles to stay open. He wouldn’t be surprised if God had somehow caught wind of their plans, and was waiting until the very last second when they were about to step through, to close the portal a few seconds earlier and laugh in their faces as the portal disappears from sight.

But that’s not what happens. They step through the portal, one after the other, neither being left behind. There’s a split second of nothing but blinding white as the portal flares, losing sight of Cas for just a moment, and then he’s there again; stood just in front of him in the bunker, the tension and stress of Purgatory already draining away from his hunched posture.

The portal gives one last pathetic flicker, and then it’s closing down on itself. The bunker is left in silence, the crackle of the portal’s energy gone, and they’re both left standing facing each other in this awkward, “what happens now” kind of stillness.

“Um… I suppose I should-,” Cas begins, taking the flower out from his pocket and motioning towards the bunker hallway.

“Cas, wait,” Dean pleads, taking an unsure step towards Cas, who freezes in place with flower still in hand. “I… I really need to talk to you, man.”

Castiel’s forehead creases in confusion, hesitantly reaching back into his pocket to put the flower back. “I already told you, Dean. I heard your prayer-,”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Dean cuts him off with a wave of his hand. His tongue darts out to wet his upper lip, a nervous gesture he could never quite hide. “I just… I feel like you should hear it directly from me, if that makes sense?”

“Not really.”

Dean huffs. “Look Cas, it’s… I meant it, okay? Even if I was panicking over the thought of you being stuck in purgatory again and… it wasn’t just a “I might as well say it because you might be dead” kind of thing, okay?”

“I know,” Castiel says, still looking just as confused as he did moments ago. “I know you’re sorry, Dean. It’s okay. I believe you.”

And then Cas turns to walk away again, and Dean can’t help but get the feeling that Cas isn’t quite getting what he’s trying to say here. So, he darts out a hand and grasps Cas’s arm, bringing the angel to a standstill. Cas looks down at Dean’s hand around his arm in genuine surprise, almost as if Dean had done something incredible offensive, and then brings his gaze up to meet Dean’s desperate one. “Dean? Are you okay?”

Dean couldn’t help it. He laughs, though it sounds about as humorless as he was feeling right now. “No, Cas. I’m not. But… are you… did you hear my entire prayer?”

Castiel frowns at him again, blue eyes scanning across the sudden, unexpected timidness look on Dean’s face. “Yes. I heard all of it.”

Dean returns the inquisitive gaze, searching for any kind of reaction, a give of some sort that Cas was thinking back to those words he had prayed to him. But there’s nothing. Nothing but the usual patient look that Castiel always held. “Listen man, I’m always one for avoiding big girly talks as much as the next guy, but… are you really not going to say anything about it?”

“About what?”

Damn it. He’s really gonna make him say it again, huh?

“You know… the bit about how I uh… the thing I said, after I said I was sorry?”

“Oh!” Castiel says, his tone bright in realization. “When you said you love me?”

And wow, what a way for Cas to say it. Like it was just… a matter of fact. Like he was simply stating what the fucking weather was like.

Dean must be staring at Cas with a damn right bewildered face right now, as the look of concern Castiel had worn for pretty much this entire conversation began to increase tenfold. “What is it?”

“Seriously?” Dean splutters out, throwing his hands up in the air. “You’re telling me I had to discover this mind-altering revelation for myself, keep it pushed down, come to terms with it and finally get the balls to admit it to you, and your reaction is absolutely nothing?”

“But… I already knew you loved me?”

It’s enough to bring Dean’s mind to a standstill. Had he… he had somehow told Cas he loved him and didn’t remember it? Oh God, that damn memory spell… had he somehow called Cas and told him something before his memory completely went kaput? No, no, it couldn’t have been that… the counter spell regained all his memories of that shitty night, he’s pretty sure… Could Cas sense it, somehow? What if it was in his soul? Some kind of change to his soul that Cas picked up on?

“You… you knew?”

“Yes… You’ve reiterated to me many times that I’m like a brother to you, and, given your connection to Sam, I assumed that meant that kind of love extended to me as well? I don’t mean to offend you Dean, the fact that you put me in the same regard as Sam is an honor of itself-,”

Oh.

Oh, Cas. Oh, Cas, Cas, Cas. He had listened to what he had said, but he hadn’t really heard him. Strangely, it kind of hurt to think that, upon hearing his confession, Cas had just sort of automatically assumed that he had meant he loved him like a brother. Perhaps it hurt because, he wasn’t sure if Cas assumed that because of the way he’s always treated him, or because Cas could just never see Dean in any other way.

“Not what I meant, Cas,” Dean says quietly, though the words sounded loud in the quiet of the room. “Oh, Cas. You damn fool… I didn’t mean as a brother.”

Cas almost looks scared, and it’s about the equivalent of a rusty knife being twisted in his gut. Cas looked scared to be hopeful. Like he was scared to think of what his words meant. Dean reaches out a hand once more, gently grabbing hold of the sleeve of Cas’s trench coat. Cas doesn’t flinch or move his arm away, so Dean lets his hand slowly slip down, lets his fingers settle in the gap between Cas’s. Cas’s breath hitches at the feeling of warm skin against his hand, his eyes darting to their entwined hands then back up to Dean. His mouth parts, a question on his lips, which Dean answers with his own.

It’s… not what he was expecting. There’s no moment of inner panic, no feeling of wrongness that has him ripping away from Cas and furiously wiping at his lips. But it’s no “fireworks” moment, either. Cas’s lips are, confusingly, chapped and dry from the cold winds of Purgatory, and yet have a tender softness to them that has him leaning closer for more. He doesn’t taste like… well, that one Dean wasn’t sure about. He had kinda been expecting some kind of… of… soapy cleanliness taste of pure, heavenly Grace. But no, Cas tastes like dirt and sweat with a little metallic twang from what was likely a busted-up lip. It’s nothing like any girl he’s ever kissed has tasted like, and strangest of all, he doesn’t give him a damn. He’s not panicking about kissing Cas because “It’s Cas!”, he’s sinking into it, melting into the touch of Cas’s hand on his back, because It’s Cas.

But the moment can’t last forever. Cas goes tense under his hands, a sudden fear taking hold, and then he’s holding Dean at arm’s length. His eyes are wide and fixated on Dean’s face, chest rising and falling in tandem with his harsh breaths, despite the fact Dean’s fairly sure Cas doesn’t even have to breathe.

“Did you mean it?” Castiel asks, his fingers tightening their grip around Dean’s shoulders. “You… you love me like…?”

“Yeah, Cas,” Dean says with a blissed-out smile. “Not like a brother. I don’t just love you. I’m in love with you. And listen, I know I kinda sprung this up on you at a bad time, and… I know I’ve acted like a real jerk to you lately, so you have every right to just pretend like this never happened and-,”

“Don’t be an idiot, Dean Winchester,” Castiel cut him off, but there’s no malice to his voice as he does it. In fact, the small pull of a smile at the corner of his mouth widens to a gummy smile that Dean knows means this is a really happy Cas, and considering how rare he sees that from Cas, it brings him a sense of satisfaction that he’s the reason Cas is smiling like that.

“Sorry, Cas. Being an idiot is just who I am. Especially considering I was apparently stupid enough to go and fall in love.”

And then it’s Cas’s turn to make Dean freeze up in disbelief and stare at Cas wide-eyed, because he chuckles warmly at Dean’s statement and tells him, “I suppose that makes me stupid too, then.”

“Oh…” Is all Dean can squeak out, probably the un-manliest he’s ever sounded, but considering the beaming smile Cas sends his way, he guesses Cas didn’t seem to mind. “You, uh… you don’t have to say it if you don’t-,”

“I love you,” Castiel confessed, soft and sweet, yet it punches into Dean hard. “But I thought you already knew that.”

“Maybe you should stop assuming things, Cas.”

“And maybe you should stop waiting until you think I’m dead to say how you feel.”

“Touché,” Dean settles, grabbing hold of Cas’s hand once more and tugging him towards the door. “Oh, and-,” He stops mid-stride, Cas nearly colliding into him. Dean forces down a grin at Cas’s curious head tilt as he searches in his jacket pocket, pulling out the mixtape he’s kept there ever since Cas gave it back to him and planting it perhaps a little too harshly against Cas’s chest. “Don’t you ever try and give this back to me again.”

Cas places his free hand atop Dean’s on his chest, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Cas grabs hold of the mixtape before it can drop to the ground as Dean removes his hand, fingers curled protectively around the tape as he looks down at it with a fond smile.

“I suppose I should have known,” Castiel murmurs quietly, eyes softening with realization as he stares down at the tape. “You already tried to give your love to me. It was just in a language I had yet to truly understand.”

#Destiel #destiel fanfiction #Destiel fanfic #oneshot #castiel/dean winchester #castiel/dean #angst #angst with a happy ending

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cosmiclove-heavenstruck · 5 years ago

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Gravity | JJ Maybank (Outer Banks, Season 1)

Pairing: JJ x fem!reader

Wordcount: 2100 words

Warnings: swearing, mentioning of underaged drinking/smoking

a/n: English is not my native language, so there might be spelling/grammar mistakes. Also, this is just a simple oneshot, so don't expect a great plot or anything. Have fun!

“because in my world, i'm constantly havin' a breakthrough or a breakdown, or a blackout, would you make out with me underneath the shelter of the balcony?”

─ clementine by halsey

[ Clementine, better known as Clem by the Pouges, lived on the southside of Outer Banks with her mum, near John B's home. Her mum worked pretty hard and was often out of town, so Clem was usually to herself. Since she began to work for Kiara’s dad two years ago, she sort of grew on the chaotic group and got involved in a lot more shit than expected. Besides serving tables at the restaurant, hanging out in the hammocks or on John B’s boat and handling the one or other mystery on the island, Clementines mind was occupied by a certain blonde guy. ]

The sun was nearly unberable, making me fan myself with my book. Summer had arrived, in full glory and a lot of hot air. I relaxed in my hammock behind our small bungalow and swung from side to side to keep myself from falling asleep, one foot on the dry grass.

Summer break just started two days ago and it was already boiling outside.

My hammock was placed between two thick trees, right beside the water and the wooden dock. Small waves sloshed against it from time to time and seabirds squealed above my head. I felt at peace and my body nearly forgot it already had more than ten hours of sleep last night as my phone vibrated. A new message from JJ lit up on its screen.

get urself ready

5 min.

A smile spread across my face. Within seconds I was back in my room, putting on my bathing suit, a pair of shorts and an open shirt with hawaiian flowers. I packed some drinks into my small cooling bag, slipped into my flip flops and wrote my mum a message in case she would be home before me.

With a towel over my shoulder and the cooling bag in my hand I walked outside again and onto the dock. John B was already steering his white boat towards the wooden planks as I reached the front.

“Aloha boys,” I greeted them with a big smile, and JJ held out his hand so I could easily jump on board.

“Hi Clem.”

“Aloha, darling. Watcha got there?” JJ asked, peeking over his sunglasses.

Once in a while, when I hadn't seen JJ for a day or two, I thought I wasn't completely head over heals for the sunkissed boy anymore and my heart had settled. But then he had the nerve to smile at me again and my whole body began to tingle.

“One for you.” I handed John B a cooled beer bottle which he thanked me for with a fast kiss onto my tempel. He was at least two feet taller than me. “And one for you.”

I threw another one in JJ's direction before getting myself one, placing my stuff under the bench seat and sitting down beside him.

“That just saved my day,” JJ answered and gave the cold glass a kiss, then he kissed me on my cheek. I hid my smile by taking a sip of beer.

“Don't lie, you already had two,” John B said grinning while he navigated the ship to where Pope lived. The boy was standing outside, helping his dad by cleaning some empty, second-hand boxes as usually.

“Hey, Pope, get your ass in here!”

“I told you yesterday, I can't!”

His dad came outside, a broom in his hands as if he wanted to chase us away. It wasn't a secret his dad disliked us.

“Oh, come on, it's summer vacation,” I interfered and waved him. Pope was already putting down the water hose and giving his dad an excusing look.

“I'll do it tomorrow. I promise!”

“Hell nah, you're stayin'!”

“I’ll be back for dinner!” Pope laid the pipe down and snatched a towel from the railing.

“Get in the boat, get in the boat,” John B whispered, whereupon Pope jumped onto the deck of the ship.

“Pope! Get back here right now!”

“We're getting him back safe, promise!” JJ yelled as John B turned the speed back up and we rushed through the waves up to Kie's house.

“Man, your dad is so unrelaxed. He should try one of my joints.”

“Don't you dare. He'll get us all killed.”

I laughed at the boys conversation. Such idiots. But I loved them nonetheless. They were my family.

Kie lived on the rich northside of Outer Banks, even though she hated it with nearly every fiber of her heart. The darkhaired girl was casually walking up to us, in her hand a bag fully of snacks ─ at least I hoped so.

“Morning y'all.”

“Welcome on board, pretty. Are those snacks?”

JJ got up to give Kie a hand, just like he did with me. Her hair was in a messy pointail, held together by a green cloth.

“Oh, you know. Some watermelon slices, stuff like that,” She joked, smiling.

Kiara was pretty. And not just that, she was smart and knew how to handle things. That didn't stay unnoticed by the guys. They were practically all into her, even if they weren't admitting it. Which wouldn't have been a problem if I was that confident in myself too. Or a bit more adventurous, inventive, whatever.

I wasn't jealous of her. In fact, she was one of my best friends, the only female one I may add. She made sure I got a job at her father’s restaurant, for which I couldn't be more thankful.

“Hey Kie.”

“Hey,” She greeted me, hugging me tightly before sitting down next to me. We provided everyone with drinks so we could touch glasses.

“Salud, guys. To the best summer of all times,” JJ announced, holding up his bottle.

“To the best summer of all times,” We echoed him and clinked our bottles together.

John B turned up the speed and the volume of the stereo as the waves splashed against the boat. I closed my eyes, smelling the salty water, my coconut sunscreen and the beer. I had missed summer.

We stayed out all day long on the water, sunbathing and diving in the ocean. Kie connected her phone with the stereo and put on some of our favourite songs. As the sun was slowly going to set, we all laid in the front of the white varnished boat, sandy and drained from all the sun. Within five minutes, we infested Kie's brought snacks and finished the beers.

JJ was passing around a joint he made himself. His skin glowed orange in the evening sun, even though there were some light bruises on his rips. His head was resting on my tanned legs.

After everyone had taken one or two drags, my body didn't feel as tired anymore. Kie started some more upbeat songs and while Pope navigated the boat back to John B's place, we danced. It probably looked horrible, but it was fun.

First, I was just dancing with Kie. Spinning her around and stuff, but she knew about my feelings for JJ. She was the only one I had told, ever. She was also the only one who believed JJ was interested in me too, as much as I tried to talk her out of it.

So, of course she used my blurry state to get me to dance with JJ. To make it less awkward, I stole his sunglasses and put them on, stupidly smiling at him.

“We dancin' now?”

“Absolutly.”

Grinning, he grabbed my hands and pulled me closer to him. Kie winked at me.

JJ put one of his hands on my hips, swaying me around in the front of the boat.

The sun was melting into the water and gave everything an orange touch. My body was glowing because of the heat, my heartbeat was going way too fast. JJ's blond hairstrands fell into his eyes and I couldn't stop laughing. Then he let me make a twist so my back was pressed against his belly and our hands were intertwined. Once he had unknotted us, he dipped me before pulling me up again. We were so close, our noses nearly touched.

“You look good with my glasses.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Then I might keep it.”

I grinned and bit my bottom lip. His eyes looked so pretty. Blue like the ocean.

“Hey guys, not on my boat, okay?” John B reminded us that we still had company around us.

I rolled my eyes and ─ as much as I didn't want to ─ let go of JJ. My hand slipped out of his and it felt like I was suddenly bound to gravity again.

Pope and Kie attached the rope of the boat with the hook on the dock, and I grabbed my stuff and followed the others to John B's house. I placed the now empty cooling box and my towel on the porch. My body felt like the alcohol and weed had left out of nowhere. The sun was barely seeable by now and the wind was colder than expected.

Inside, I put my clothes back over my swimwear and tamed my frizzy hair in a loose bun.

“That. Was. So. Much. Flirting.” Kie bumped her ellbow into rips with a knowing smile on her lips.

“Shut up. That was nothing.”

“Are you kidding me? Have you seen the way he looks at you?”

I crossed my arms, eyeing her in disbelief. My head just couldn't comprehend the idea of someone liking me like that. Especially not JJ.

“He likes you. A lot. Trust me.”

“Come on, Kie. Just because he flirts with me once doesn't mean he has feelings for me. You know how many girls want him.”

She scoffed. “Okay, fine. I'm gonna ask him.”

“Wha─ No. No, Kie!” I whisper-screamed at her and tried to grab her arm, but she escaped my grasp and jogged into the kitchen where the boys probably looted John's fridge. Fuck.

“Uh, guys, my mum texted me. I'm gonna go now, see ya tomorrow!” I yelled and quickly escaping onto the porch. The warmth seemed to have disappeared, thick rain drops where pouring down onto the shelter of the porch.

There was no way I would just let Kie embarrass me because ─ surprise ─ JJ wasn't actually flirting with me. Absolutely not.

I was already on the last step and out in the rain, as someone called me.

“Clem? Wait.” JJ. Goddamnit. I shut my eyes for a second before facing him.

“Yup?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

He scratched the back of his neck. “You─ uh... You still have my sunglasses.”

My heart dropped. Had I honestly expected something else?

“Yes, right. Sorry.”

I shook my head, scoffing as I took them off and went up the stairs again. I left my stuff down on the paveway. Internally, I was shaking like hell. My heart was a wreck. Utterly nervous. Maybe Kie hadn’t said anything, maybe he hadn’t heard her, I thought.

I stood infront of him again, not as close as before though. Without thinking and instead of just handing the stupid glasses over like a normal person, I put them on his face. He didn't need them, the sun had already vanished beneath the ocean. I did it anyway.

JJ pushed them up in his hair.

And then we were just looking at each other and I hade to pull myself together so I wouldn't faint. I gulped and tugged at my own shirt, that ridiculous hawaiian shirt.

“So,” JJ spoke under his breath. The rain was still pouring down onto the plastic shelter. My heart beat felt louder, and I wondered if he could hear it. I was so scared.

“Goodnight, J.”

With that, I turned around and wanted to leave, like I always did when I was too afraid to face the truth.

“I like you too.”

Everything in me froze just to melt in the next second. My heart stumbled. So Kie did tell him.

Slowly, I turned back around.

JJ just stood there, hands in his pockets and sunglasses in his hair, chewing unsurely on his bottom lip. He seemed vulnerable. No smug grin, no stupid joke on the tip of his tongue.

“I mean I really, really like you, Clementine. More than that.”

For once, I didn't want to be afraid. If he could be brave, I could too. Within a second, I was back in front of him, though way closer. Even closer than on the boat.

And this time, I kissed him.

My hands grabbed his hair, pulling his face down to mine, and once he had understood, I felt his arms wrap around my waist. There was no gravity pulling me down when we were this close.

“I really like you, too,” I mumbled between two kisses. I could feel his lips forming a smile as he pressed them onto mine again.

“"I thought you'd never admit it,” He said, grinning.

“Don't get used to it,” I answered, grinning just as wide as he did.

And then he kissed me again under the shelter of the balcony, surrounded by the heavy sound of the rain, while I buried my hands in his hair and he pulled me off the ground.

#outer banks #jj maybank #jj x reader #oneshot #outer banks netflix #jj maybank x reader #JJ #outer banks imagine #rudy pankow #my writing

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itsclydebitches · 4 years ago

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Hello, lovely readers! Welcome back. Buckle up, this chapter — and its accompanying recap — is one of our longest so far.

To start, I am grappling with my surprise over the opening sentence of Chapter Seven:

“Scarlet was disappointed that there’d been no big celebration following reinitiation.”

I’m sorry, reinitiation is over? First, this goes against the expectations set up last chapter. Sun, Velvet, and Scarlet had a whole conversation about how this test looked exactly like normal initiation, so obviously there must be some key difference in order to both differentiate it from regular initiation, and ensure that students originally from Shade don’t have a major advantage. They seemed to expect a twist to this test so I expected a twist too. In fact, as a reader looking for entertainment, a twist was all but assured. Or so I thought. When nothing much happened during Velvet’s adventure — she just drops down the first hole she sees, immediately spots the relic, and dodges some grimm on her way out — I thought, “There must be a Part II coming up.” The airship isn’t taking them back to Shade, it’s taking them to the next sequence in the test. …Apparently not. It really is just like regular initiation.

Second, what about the rest of Team CFVY? What about Team SSSN? We don’t need to follow every character individually (that would indeed take a while), but at least do something similar to what we just got with Velvet and Sun undergoing the same challenge. If I remember correctly, the student body was divided into three or four groups, meaning that by default every member of our teams will be mixed up with someone else and, based on Velvet’s challenge, every airbus team is given the same task. So just show us two more adventures and you’re done. Given how short most chapters are (Chapter Eight is a mere six pages) and the fact that we’ve got twenty-one of them overall, that’s not much of a hardship. As it stands this is… weird. Why Velvet? Why, out of eight separate characters — two of which are team leaders and seemingly more of a main character than she is, as least two others who we know next to nothing about — does she get the extra time and attention? It’s like if RWBYJNR underwent a test but we only heard about Jaune and Blake’s experience, with Jaune dropped halfway through the chapter and everything else is told through Blake’s PoV. Like yeah, that’s technically fine, we can assume they all completed the same task, and Blake is great! But it’s still weird when you’ve got seven other characters to balance.

Not to mention missing out on everything else that I assumed we’d get answers to. Velvet obviously never found Yatsuhashi since we were never given a test section where they were together. How did Yatsuhashi deal with the panic he was struggling with when we left him? Did Fox have to rely on someone else to get him a relic since he couldn’t see them? What does Coco think about all this??

We might get flashbacks at some point, but right now we’re starting Chapter Seven having skipped all of this including, as Scarlet points out, the immediate emotional aftermath. I don’t really care about another Beacon Brigade meeting, I care about the shocking change that was thrown at our characters and changed the whole dynamic of this school… but apparently we’re moving on.

As said, Scarlet is sad there was no party because he, unlike everyone else, is pretty thrilled with the new teams. Yup, they actually changed. At least that’s an engaging development. Especially given how uh… volatile these teams are likely to be. Scarlet now fights with Coco who is no longer the team leader. Instead, it’s a girl named Reese who “didn’t strike [Scarlet] as a born leader. On the other hand, she wasn’t Sun, so she was definitely an upgrade.” Yeah, it becomes clear within a couple of paragraphs that Scarlet straight up hates Sun, rather than simply grappling with frustration over his recent behavior.

He’s likewise critical of the Beacon Brigade, mentally referring to them as a “pity party” which 1. Yikes, Scarlet, people died and 2. Why is he here? It seems like everyone whose perspective we’ve gotten so far — with the exception of Velvet — thinks these get-togethers are a waste of time, yet they continue to attend them. From a writing standpoint it’s easy to see why you’d want these characters there to prompt personal conflict, but I’m confused as to the in-world reasons for why so many of them are sitting through something they only have criticism for. Is it peer pressure? Loyalty to their friends? Lack of anything better to do? The disgust or indifference for this group is well established, though not what makes all these characters attend it anyway.

We’re at least told that Sun was “dragged” here by Velvet which… okay? Why? Last chapter Velvet didn’t particularly like Sun either, so I suppose she’s simply looking to improve him or something? Honestly, the Velvet we’ve given while seeing the world through her eyes and the Velvet of other chapters seem radically different from one another. By that I don’t mean that Velvet sees herself differently than she really is. An example of that would be Ruby thinking that she’s bad at making friends, when in reality she forms deep bonds incredibly quickly.

It’s a characteristic that has always existed, obvious to the viewer too, but Ruby simply doesn’t notice it due to her own self-confidence, self-esteem, etc. Velvet, meanwhile, is written as a different character altogether. The Velvet who exists across most of this book comes across as far quite kind and patient, whereas when we’re in her head Velvet is both internally and externally mean. Her attitude flips on and off like a switch. I know I said last time that Sun’s admiration at her avoiding the Ravagers might finally start changing her tune about him, and that could indeed be an explanation for why she brought him back to the Beacon Brigade, but that doesn’t explain the extreme change in how she holds a conversation with him. Remember that last chapter we had “tough love” Velvet who was insulting Sun almost every chance she got. This Velvet speaks calmly and patiently until Sun understands their reasoning behind forming this group… which yeah, is a good thing. I’m glad someone is offering to explain things to Sun instead of just assuming the worst of him, but we’re nevertheless left with very inconsistent characterization. How and why did this change come about? Will Velvet revert back to tough love? Who can say? Certainly not me.

At least Scarlet’s opinions are clear: “just when [he] was ready to get a little distance from [Sun]” he shows up again. He goes on to think about how he just wanted a fresh start which, okay. Fair. That’s partly the point of this whole exercise and but right now Scarlet is convinced that a fresh start isn’t possible “with Sun in charge.” So Sun as an individual seems to be the problem here, not Scarlet’s team as a whole. Which would likewise be fair if I had a better understanding of where such intense opinions were coming from. In this chapter we’re suddenly told that Sun running off isn’t a new occurrence:

“Well, you were always leaving us and going solo. We were never sure why,” Scarlet said. They might not be on the same team now, but his questions hadn’t gone away.

Sage still had questions, too. “Were we not good enough for you?” he asked.

Okay, that definitely sounds like a legitimate flaw that would alienate your team members from you... but when did this happen? Granted, the answer to this might (again) just be, “In After the Fall, Clyde” but we’re nearly a hundred pages into this book and this issue hasn’t come up before now—something that would be very easy to accomplish when each chapter is changing perspectives. Upon reflection, Sun is doing things semi-solo in a lot of the main series, but that never came across as anything other than an easy writing choice to me. Meaning, Sun originally existed as a faunus friend for Blake, someone outside of Team RWBY to get involved in the White Fang fight. Introducing him as a single character is easier, having him meet with Blake alone makes sense, etc. Not only is the concept of teams existing as a single unit that always does everything together ridiculous, but Neptune was clearly meant to exist as a representation of the rest of the team without having to write three distinct characters alongside Sun every time he comes on screen. Sun is solo on the docks. Sun is at the cafeteria with Neptune. Sun infiltrates the White Fang with Blake. Sun eavesdrops on Team RWBY with Neptune. In the main series I never got the sense that Sun was avoiding his team, only that he had a life outside of his team and that his team was otherwise represented through one guy instead of three. Three wouldn’t have worked for most of these scenes.

All of which isn’t to say that Sun didn’t avoid his team — I’m not claiming Scarlet is lying — only that I’m not convinced we’ve seen that flaw. Which is incredibly common in RWBY. Characters will make quite significant statements and the viewer/reader is left wondering when this thing happened, or why the contradictions we can easily see in the story aren’t acknowledged. If Sun, as leader, has a habit of ditching his friends, both leaving them to function as a team without him and acting as if he doesn’t like spending time with them… then yeah, that’s absolutely something that needs to be addressed. But where is that Sun? Why haven’t I seen that characterization? Every time they’re together his team avoids him (Scarlet being a perfect example). Even Sun baffled by the accusations.

How could he not know? Scarlet wondered.

I don’t know either! This certainly seems to be a misunderstanding, but oddly the one person who can shed some light on the miscommunication doesn’t speak. Sun looks to Neptune in his confusion which makes perfect sense because: Hey, best friend! The guy I do everything with and who functions as clear evidence that I’m not always going solo like Scarlet claims, can you explain what’s going on here? We might have gotten an exchange where Neptune points out that spending time with him doesn’t equal spending time with the whole team, Scarlet and Sage feel left out, and that’s absolutely a claim that would stand up within the canon… but Neptune says nothing. Sun is simply accused of being a horrible leader who doesn’t want anything to do with his team, despite there being very little basis for this in the text. All we’ve got is him leaving with Blake which, as I’ve explained, is something he does need to apologize for. But that’s the conflict we’ve seen, not this broad, wishy-washy claim that Sun is an all around bad person.

What it comes down to is that Scarlet’s disdain is apparently rooted in more than just a single action of Sun’s, it’s apparently a pattern of behavior that he takes issue with, but I haven’t seen him be a particularly bad leader/friend lately. Or, I should say, certainly no worse than everyone else around him, given that this entire group does what they want and insults one another on a regular basis. Sun isn’t an exception in that. Both the book and this conversation feels like an attack on Sun’s character, not the event we know he needs to redeem himself for. When Blake left, Team RWY didn’t speak ad nauseum about how horrible a person she is, not talented enough to fight with them, incapable of doing anything right… insults that are separate from the issue at hand. The mistakes we’ve seen Sun make aren’t aligning with the complaints other characters have about him, but nor is the story acknowledging that his friends might be biased or simply wrong. Basically, like Velvet’s character, it’s a confusing, inconsistent mess.

And if it feels like I’m repeating myself every chapter it’s because the book is repeating itself every chapter. How many times are we going to tell the reader who awful Sun is? We’re nearly a hundred pages in, folks.

I’ve been getting very ahead of myself though. Before we delve into Sun’s apology and the resulting confessions, let’s quickly lay out the new teams. Yatshuhashi and Neptune have ended up together, which explains a certain scene that I know is coming later. I figured that the entirety of CFVYSSSN was conducting their investigation together and some cross team duos came about. Turns out they’re actually part of a team now. It’s an interesting premise! Too bad I know it’s heading in the worst possible direction.

Also, everyone already has color names. That’s the true evidence for non-random assignments! The instructors would never come up with enough color related terms otherwise lol.

“Oh brilliant headmaster, why did you choose to put me on this team? Was it because I worked so well with this peer of mine? Or does my semblance compliment another’s?”

“No, kid. Your name just happens to start with an ‘F’ and we needed one to get an abridged version of ‘Forest.’”

“…ah. I see. One more thing, sir.”

“Yes?”

“I’d like to transfer to a less stupid institution.”

These conversations had to have happened.

Velvet has been paired with Octavia as well as another Beacon hating student named Nebula. No surprise there. Then, just to make sure we don’t go more than a few paragraphs without insulting Sun, we’re told that “poor Sage” is still “stuck with him.” Sage is now the team leader, another choice that Scarlet doesn’t understand. Indeed, he actually says that this is “proof of the utter randomness of the exercise.” I’m both inclined to agree (in the sense that, as said, managing all these team aspects intentionally is nearly impossible) and also point out that by all intents and purposes Jaune should have read as an idiotic choice too. “How can you say that, Clyde? Jaune showed astounding leadership during his own initiation!” No he didn’t. Jaune noticed that a scorpion’s tail was loose, yelled out a generic call to action, Pyrrha figured out what to do, and then he told Nora to finish it off. Jaune said they needed to help get across the gap and help them in the first place (no duh) but Nora is the one who figures out how. It’s really not much, especially compared to things like spending most of his initiation stuck in trees and having no idea how to wield his sword. If Jaune can be made leader Sage should absolutely be given the chance. Everyone should be given the chance compared to the guy who became team leader without knowing what a landing strategy was.

Scarlet concludes all this by saying that “Sun didn’t seem bothered in the slightest by not being the boss,” but remember, when a character is already inclined to think the worst of someone, their assumptions about their emotions aren’t necessarily accurate. We won’t know until/if we get back into Sun’s head whether he’s truly indifferent to these changes or not. Not that Scarlet needs any such confirmation. He decides that Sun “probably didn’t care who was in charge because he wasn’t going to listen, anyway.”

This is still so confusing to me. Did the rest of team SSSN tell Sun not to leave and he blew him off? Am I forgetting a time recently where he made his team do something they didn’t agree with? If not, where is this ‘Sun doesn’t listen to anyone’ criticism coming from? Even if we establish that it’s true — perhaps supported by the free spirit personality Sun wields, though that’s not the same thing as ignoring orders — why is he the only one getting heat for it? Coco doesn’t listen to anyone either. She’s out here metaphorically flipping Rumpole off to conduct an investigation that Sage and Scarlet didn’t seem to agree with, but Sun, trying to integrate everyone into Vacuan culture, is the one who abandons everyone to do what he wants?

But this is normal for RWBY. A flaw is a flaw until it’s applied to the character this story supports, then it becomes something to praise instead. In some respects, this is even more frustrating to experience in the novel because unlike in the webseries, there’s plenty of time here to explain a character’s opinions, show us their memories, lay out the nuance in these relationships, all the techniques that would help convince the reader of a difference in behavior when actions seem pretty identical at first glance… yet here we are, not utilizing that time or, when we are, providing inconsistent information. There have been precious few moments in this novel where I’ve felt like I have a firm handle on a protagonist: what their motivations are, what actions they’ve taken in response to that, how those actions have been received, and whether that reception is justified.

Honestly, the most consistent aspect of this novel is how closely it aligns with the webseires: both texts don’t make good internal sense and leave me scratching my head over what I’m supposed to take away from the story, let alone whether that takeaway makes sense based on what I’ve been shown.

But I promised you all Sun’s apology. Let’s just chuck out the whole thing:

“Here we go again with the Beacon Brigade stuff,” Sun muttered.

“Excuse me?” Velvet frowned. “I thought you came back here to apologize.”

Scarlet laughed. How could she even believe that? “Sun’s pretty bad at apologies.”

“I can apologize!” Sun’s tail swept back and forth.

“Go on, then.” Scarlet said, prompting him.

Sun put his hands into his pockets and looked down. “I’m sorry I said all those mean things and stormed out of here last time,” he said quickly.

“Thank you—” Velvet began.

Sun lifted his head. “But I was only trying to help you understand how elitist this group looks to everyone else.”

Scarlet rolled his eyes. He leaned back to watch the show.

I’m going to fall back on a list for this one.

1. As said in the past, I’m well aware that a story needn’t show us every scene but should rather provide information that allows us to extrapolate things based on the context and basic logic. e.g. “I haven’t read a scene yet where these characters brush their teeth, but I can assume it’s happening and we just don’t see it because that’s incidental to the plot and would (theoretically) be boring.” In fact, a story that provides too much information—be it in world building, characterization, every detail of the current event—will often have failed in one of its core intentions: entertainment. I get that. However, it feels like more often than not RWBY struggles to pinpoint which moments should be shown and which should be relegated off screen. I, for one, would have liked to see this conversation between Velvet and Sun. Not because a conversation inviting him to another Beacon Brigade meeting is inherently exciting, but because we’ve been given a context wherein such a conversation is significant for both of their developments. Velvet was incredibly critical of Sun last chapter. Now she’s “dragged him” back to this meeting. Is it because she’s changed her tune about him, or because she hopes to change him further? That’s important. Sun, last we saw, was digging his heels in regarding the meetings, the new teams, and the refugees’ overall approach to living at Shade. Now, Velvet tosses out that he “came back here to apologize.” What changed Sun’s mind and got him to admit he overstepped? Or is Velvet wrong in her assumption about what he intended to do? This story is character driven—we’ve gotten very little action thus far, none of which has been integrated into the emotional stakes—yet consistently the story fails to answer questions like, “What does this character want?” “What made them change their mind about this?” and “Do we trust their perspective and interpretation of events?” Like skipping out on everyone else’s reinitiation, it’s impossible to get invested in the “development” of characters when we’re always unclear about where they started, where they’re heading, and what in the world happened to enact any change we see between chapters.

2. Similarly, we’re told that “Sun’s pretty bad at apologies.” Did anyone else know this prior to Scarlet announcing it to the group (the reader)? Yes, Sun has yet to apologize for leaving with Blake, but that is, as I’ve stated above, one event that is not necessarily indicative of a behavioral trend. I’d much rather have known a Sun across the webseries and this book who consistently demonstrates an inability to admit when he’s wrong, not simply be told that by a character when it becomes relevant to the scene. Or, at the very least, allow our time with characters like Scarlet to provide that information in a more persuasive, fulfilling manner. Maybe he thinks about all the times Sun has let him down and then refused to acknowledge it. Maybe we get another flashback to a similar event that this is reminding Scarlet of. Maybe he and Sun actually talk and we get a sense of how this opinion formed. Something other than an announcement simply informing us of an impactful character flaw that we haven’t seen up until now.

3. Especially given that Sun does apologize and it’s not a bad apology either, it’s just that he’s chosen to apologize for the things he’s actually sorry for: saying mean stuff and storming out. It takes a lot to admit that two of his responses weren’t appropriate and there’s enough specificity and sincerity here that Velvet immediately accepts it with a “Thank you.” Where Sun arguably messes up is in continuing his apology with a “But…” yet here I’d like to reiterate that the simplistic advice we find on tumblr isn’t applicable to every situation. Meaning, I’ve seen a lot of posts lately about apologies, reminding people that it should be about acknowledging how you hurt someone regardless of your intentions, not using your intentions as an excuse for your actions. I agree with that. I likewise think Sun did this. He admits that he hurt people despite not meaning to and he owns up to that, even if he does so in a quickly, clearly uncomfortable manner. Acknowledging that you hurt someone despite your intentions doesn’t mean that your intentions can never be brought up again. If I accidentally insult someone in the act of confronting them about, say, destructive behavior, I should indeed apologize for that… but that doesn’t mean the issue itself—the destructive behavior—is forever off the table. It’s an important topic and Sun likewise has an important topic he’s trying to broach again, this time in a more respectful manner. Sun is sorry for the cruel things he said, he’s sorry for storming out, he’s sorry for how he responded to things… but he’s not sorry for his opinion about the situation itself, and that’s fair. Apologizing for your behavior does not require that you suddenly agree with the person you’ve hurt. Indeed, it’s only Sun challenging the group again—this time in a non-insulting, non-storming out manner—that the group itself realizes that they haven’t been clear about their own intentions. The issue was never whether the group is a good thing or a bad thing, but rather that the group didn’t bother to explain to Sun why they were doing this in the first place, leaving him to come to his own conclusions—and then getting upset when those conclusions turned out to be inaccurate. Up until this moment, no one in this room is inclined to spend time with Sun, let alone ensure that he has an accurate view of what this group means, so is it any surprise that he took things at face value? The group who named themselves after Beacon doesn’t want to be a part of Shade. That’s what it looks like on the surface and thus, that’s what he assumed.

4. Despite the complexity of this situation—by far the best Myers has managed thus far in this novel—Scarlet doesn’t acknowledge any of it. Not the group’s behavior towards Sun that resulted in a lack of understanding, not Sun’s understandable assumptions, not his inappropriate response to them, nor his apology. Scarlet said Sun was bad at apologies and Sun just proved him wrong… but acknowledging that requires likewise acknowledging everything in the above paragraph. Scarlet doesn’t want to think about what Sun is apologizing for vs. concerns he still has, he just hears a “But” and “rolled his eyes" to “watch the show.” What’s perhaps the most strange about all this — and the easiest to pinpoint as a potential problem — is that Scarlet agrees with Sun. He thinks the Beacon Brigade is a waste of time too! In another story I would expect to either a) have Scarlet grudgingly admit that Sun had a point, helping to lead him to some realizations about his bias, or b) have the story itself acknowledge that Scarlet is interested only in criticizing Sun no matter what he might actually say or do. If we boil the conversation down we’ve got:

[Scarlet is critical of the Beacon Brigade]

[Sun is critical of the Beacon Brigade]

[Scarlet ignores that tie between them]

and

[Scarlet thinks that Sun isn’t capable of apologizing]

[Sun apologizes]

[Scarlet ignores this]

This trend is likewise seen at the start of the meeting when Scarlet goes, “The gall of it. It was so obvious what Sun was doing—he was practically gleeful to be rid of his teammates” in response to Sun not seeming devastated by the changes. It’s the same situation we got last chapter with Velvet, wherein one character’s interpretation of a situation — Sun doesn’t look sad enough to my liking — doesn’t necessarily match up with reality. Indeed, when Scarlet throws out another accusation we’re shown precisely how inaccurate his perspective is:

“I guess it’s not hard to move on when you’re always moving, huh?” He sat up straight and looked at Sun. “Just how ecstatic are you to be moving on from us? Be honest. While we’re at it, maybe you can explain why.”

Sun was taken aback. “What?”

Sun is shocked by the idea that he’s “ecstatic” over these changes because he’s clearly not. There’s so much miscommunication among these characters and, thus far, incredibly little done to resolve it. This conversation explaining the Beacon Brigade to Sun is the major exception and, as a result, is one of the only worthwhile scenes. I feel like our characters have finally changed in some way. Yet to continually balance out any enjoyable bits, Scarlet’s bias stands in contrast to this improvement we see with Sun. It’s even more obvious when we factor in Scarlet’s revelation about Nolan in the same conversation. Despite witnessing nothing nearly as concrete as an apology when he said apologies weren’t something Sun was good at, Scarlet comes to the conclusion that he had been “underestimating Nolan all this time” and seems, from a single comment, to form a much higher opinion of him. The kicker is that not only does this moment not jumpstart a similar revelation regarding Sun, but is rather used as another segue into criticism of him: “Just like Sun had been underestimating the rest of them. But would Sun ever see that?”

Sun is indeed blind to some things, but so is Scarlet. Arguably more-so. At least here we see Sun listening to the others and flat out admitting that he was wrong. The confusing nature of Scarlet’s anger — is he upset about the Blake incident or something that seems to exist ‘off screen’? — coupled with his inability to acknowledge the improvements Sun is striving to make when they’re literally happening right in front of him, makes for a frustrating read. So as always: Yay flawed characters? It’s just too bad that this cast seems to be made up primarily of flaws and are doing incredibly little to improve themselves. Unless you factor in things like Velvet’s randomly changing personality.

As said though, I think the group does a good job explaining their perspective to Sun, largely because they bother to take a moment to connect with him, see how and why he came to these conclusions, and respectfully lay out their own perspective. Velvet explains that names are important, a part of your identity, and thus when they came to Vacuo they wanted a new name to reflect their new life. “Beacon was the obvious choice.” By the end of the scene Sun freely admits his mistake — “Maybe I was wrong,” Sun said — but still maintains that his misunderstanding stemmed from something. All of these (somewhat convoluted) explanations involving names, identity, belonging, moving on, but keeping their past is in no way obvious when you just hear the name Beacon Brigade. “‘Well, you’ve been sending a mixed message with this group, at least to Vacuans,’ Sun said stubbornly” except that “stubbornly” is uncharitable because he’s right. Not about the Beacon Brigade being a useless waste of time like we saw a few chapters back, but about the name and meeting sending the wrong message without that complicated context attached. The name alone has no connection to Vacuo. The name sounds like they’re refusing to move on. The name is also weirdly about being an army despite this being a therapy group, but we’ve already mentioned that. The statements “Your reasons for having this group and naming it this are valid,” “It’s not your fault that the Vacuans are refusing to accept you,” and “On the surface that name and these meetings send an unintended bad message that doesn’t help your already iffy social status” can and all do exist simultaneously.

The fact that Sun is using this opportunity to understand where the Beacon Brigade is coming from, but the Beacon Brigade is continually insisting that his perspective has no merit, just reinforces that the only one undergoing any growth here is Sun. Which, coming into this novel, I would have said is justified. He abandoned his team! He followed Blake! He listened in on her private conversations! He hasn’t even apologized to his team yet! Sun obviously has things to work on. But the expectation of him being the most in need of improvement rests on those around him being more level-headed, empathetic, talented people than he is… and they’re not. In this novel, the people Sun has hurt can be just as stubborn and cruel, making just as many iffy decisions. So when we’ve got a whole school of incredibly flawed teens, with one individual clearly striving to do better while the others endlessly pile on him… uh, I’m in that guy’s corner. At least I understand how Sun’s development is coming about, unlike Velvet. At least Sun admits when he’s made mistakes, unlike Coco and Scarlet. At least Sun hasn’t done anything close to the horror that I know is coming with Fox and Yatsuhashi…

So yes, to say that this scene and its resulting implications is complicated is an understatement. For the love of God, let’s move on.

We get another flashback, this time to Team SSSN arriving in Vacuo to meet with Headmaster Theodore and Rumpole. Recall that we were shown the exact same situation with Team CFVY… but wow is Theodore different here. Previously, I praised his compassion and ability to inspire new students because in that scene it was clear he was thrilled to have Team CFVY joining his school. Theodore is not thrilled to accept Team SSSN and I’m honestly unclear as to why. Both did well in the Vytal Tournament, which is something Rumpole apparently looked over when evaluating the students. Both participated in — and survived — the Battle of Beacon. Both are here now, hoping for a new place to call home, yet the reception SSSN receives is distinctly frosty.

Granted, this is at least partly because we’re still seeing things through Scarlet’s perspective, but that doesn’t cover everything. Theodore starts the flashback by reminding them that he believes “Actions speak louder than words,” to which Sun wholeheartedly agrees. Rather than acknowledging that they have similar outlooks, Rumpole tells him to be quiet — “[she] put a finger over her lips” — and when Sun doesn’t seem to notice the gesture Scarlet interprets this as him being “cocky.” That… doesn’t really line up. Regardless, Theodore is interested to know why Sun didn’t attend Vacuo if he grew up here, seeming to read that choice as some sort of insult towards him and his school: “He exchanged a look with Professor Rumpole. Then he looked sternly at Scarlet, Sage, and Nexpeptune.” When Sun explains that he wanted to see more of the world before settling down, Theodore and Rumpole jump on the word choice.

Sage snickered. Rumpole’s eyes flashed gold.

“So you think of Vacuo as ‘settling’?” Theodore asked.

Wait.

Excuse me, educator, but the phrase “settling down” is not comparable to “settling.” The former means to live a quieter, stable life usually after, yes, traveling the world for a time. It has few (if any) negative connotations. In fact, it’s quite positive. The implication is that you’ve been to many places, seen a great deal, experienced much of what life has to offer you, and now you’re choosing this place as your home. It’s also framed after a sought-after end goal. The weary hero longs to settle down but is unable to due to their quest. Settling down with friends and family is the prize given at the end of a story. It’s good. In contrast, “settling” for something does have a number of negative implications attached to it. It suggests that it’s not what you want, but you’re willing to put up with it at the end of the day given that you have no other choice. It’s second or third best, at most, but you’ll tolerate it. The concept of settling for something is insulting because it says that given different circumstances, you never would have chosen it.

Sun says he’s “settling down” in Vacuo; this is the home he’s choosing. Theodore and Rumpole both interpret this as “settling;” he’s choosing them only because he has to. But why? Where did this interpretation come from? Schools were a mix of people from different kingdoms long before Salem shook things up, so why is Sun getting heat for going to Mistral? Especially with the rather persuasive justification of, ‘I’d like to see more than just my backyard, thanks’? Are Vacuans so xenophobic that the mere act of one of their own leaving for a short time makes them an outsider? Why is this never explained then? Why doesn’t Sun, the Vacuan, understand this and seek to defend himself?

I’m still so confused, folks!

Things just go downhill from there. Sun asks if he can call Theodore “Theo,” which doesn’t go over well.

“No!” barked Theodore and Rumpole at the same time.

“Right. Sorry. Professor—”

“Headmaster.”

This is unnecessarily strict. As someone who has known a number of “You must refer to me as ‘Doctor’” people, I have never heard a single one “bark” out a negative in response to asking about using a different address. They respectfully correct a student because instructors — and people in general — should strive to be respectful. Then Theodore nitpicks about “Professor” vs. “Headmaster.” A look back at what I read does show a consistency of students addressing him as “Headmaster,” but if that’s a preference why not just say that? As it is, the curt correction feels like he’s trying to limit Sun’s options, especially when we’ve heard others like Ozpin be referred to as “Professor.” It’s not exactly a weird mistake.

Then Theodore goes,

“And which of you is the leader again? I know it’s not Neptune, but you can tell that just by looking at him.” Neptune’s jaw dropped.

What is wrong? With this cast?? Theodore was a splendid Headmaster whom I loved a few chapters back, now suddenly — as soon as he’s talking to Team SSSN — he’s become downright mean. What the absolute hell was that comment? “You can tell that just by looking at him”? That’s so insulting! He’s another Velvet, turning basic compassion on and off depending on who he’s speaking to, yet I still remain in the dark as to why everyone in this novel hates Sun, to the point where even his teammates bear the brunt of that negativity. Because, you know, when Sun says he’s the leader,

Rumpole was momentarily speechless.

Hold on. Let’s take a hot second to summarize what Sun has done in this conversation thus far, AKA everything that exists to form such a horrible opinion of him that Rumpole would be “speechless” at the thought of him leading. Sun has:

Agreed with Headmaster Theodore regarding a life philosophy.

Says he grew up in Vacuo.

Admits that he wants to settle down here, making Shade his permanent home.

Asked to address the Headmaster as “Theo.”

Apologies for his presumptiveness.

Correctly changes his address to “Headmaster Theodore.”

Explains that he was on a “special assignment” last semester and that’s why he wasn’t at Haven. Scarlet mutters that the assignment was given “by himself.”

So Sun is a native who’s heart has “grown fonder” for his kingdom and who agrees with Theodore’s outlook. He is willing to apologize and change his behavior as instructed. The only marks against him so far are 1. Being overly friendly with an authority figure and 2. The implication that he simply ran off without justification, though thus far it’s Sun’s word against Scarlet’s. That should hardly count until the accusation is proven one way or the other.

So Sun is implied to be an unfit leader because he was friendly? That outweighs positives like being from Vacuo and taking direction?

Everyone is really just out to paint Sun as The Worst Person Ever, huh? Here’s your trophy, bud.

After this stunning display ranging from indifference to what appears to be outright disgust, Theodore says that they can stay on through what’s essentially a trial period. “Until you wash out, or he changes his mind,” Rumpole explained. “Frankly, that happens a lot.” Again, Team CFVY didn’t receive such a threat. Theodore concludes the meeting by requiring a written account of the White Fang attack, something Sun is nervous about. “You do know how to write?” Theodore asks, just casually tossing in a final insult. Scarlet reassures him that they’ll help Sun with the “big words.”

Wow. The farther I get into this story the less surprised I am that the fandom has been hissing at it like an angry pack of cats. Or at least, a solid chunk of the fandom here on tumblr. I can’t recall if I mentioned this in an earlier Chapter, but at the start of this project I popped onto Goodreads and was somewhat shocked at Before the Dawn’s 4.16 rating, accompanied by numerous glowing reviews. Were we given different copies of the book? Then again, I often feel as if I’m watching a different show than the fandom talks up. I too would love to be watching a gripping, emotionally compelling, complex RWBY story of the sort that I’ve heard about. Ah well.

Back to the text at hand.

It’s the next day and everyone is attending Professor Rowena Sunnybrook’s Weapons Training Class. I briefly grapple with the image of Rowena Ravenclaw at Sunnybrook Farm. Then I consider how close “Rowena” is to “Rebecca.” Then I remember that in the stories Rebecca’s middle name was Rowena. Then I move on with my life.

(How badly am I dating myself if I bring up Shirley Temple?)

There’s a sandpit set up in the middle of that classroom which “had always seemed odd to Scarlet. If you wanted to fight in sand, why not just go outside? There was plenty of sand in this place.” Honest answer: ease of access and control over your environment. It’s the same reason why you’d take students to an indoor track rather than just telling them to run anywhere there’s space outside. There may be qualities to the sand that make it a better practice tool — less coarse, no rocks hidden underneath — and it’s presented in an accessible, otherwise safe classroom. No one is wasting time finding a spot outside. No sand storms will suddenly interrupt an exercise. Rowena and the students alike aren’t fighting against the wind, or the sun, the grimm, or anything else they might have to pay attention to. Given the tech of this world, there may even be cameras in the classroom that allows instructors to record and revisit their students’ practice. Unless you’re looking to prepare them for the unpredictability of the real world in a given lesson, this is just an all around easier choice. A pain to set up, perhaps, but easier once the pit is in place.

So Scarlet is, per the trend, in somewhat of a bad mood. He says he’s excited to see what class is like with his new teammates, but he doesn’t understand why you’d have a sand pit inside (in a world where competitions like the Vytal Festival exist…) and he likewise doesn’t get why anyone would fight on sand if they didn’t have to. But… you do have to? Scarlet just got done reminding everyone that they live in a desert now. He doesn’t get much of a say in whether he’s fighting on sand or not, so he’d better learn how to do it. I don’t think the grimm and occasional baddie is going to let Scarlet choose the setting before a fight begins.

Scarlet is also exhausted, which I can definitely understand. I’m tired just reading about the week they’ve been through. We get a tiny glimpse into the Chapter That Never Was where he thinks that “Spending hours in an underground Dust mine fighting a herd of Jackalopes wasn’t exactly a fun time.” Too bad we didn’t get to read about it. Though I do quite like the tiny insight into Scarlet we get here. He’s extra tired because he was “staying up so late to clean his clothes and shine his shoes.” Yeah, I could say something about implied-to-be gay guys and their obsession with clothes, though considering that Scarlet’s sexuality is nonexistent in this text or the main series, it feels disingenuous to make any claims about stereotyping. Besides, that may be a reach even if he was confirmed as queer. Rather, I like the line because it can be read in different ways, one of which is further confirmation that Scarlet seems to be a straight-laced, eager to please authority sort of guy. He doesn’t like having a spontaneous team leader. He hopes that Theodore will see his worth over Sun’s. Scarlet already comes across as the sort of student who would put additional time into shining his shoes while everyone else gets some much needed sleep. Appearances matter to him.

This entire time Sunnybrook has been lecturing, though seemingly not about anything important. Scarlet is surprised that they haven’t started an activity yet. The stalling is explained when Rumpole shows up, stomping into the classroom and grousing that Sunnybrook started without her. She rightfully points out, “You’re late, and this is my class.”

Ooh, Scarlet thought. Sunnybrook just went from chatty to catty.

…No? Beyond my ardent love of writers insisting that women are “catty” whenever they show an ounce of assertiveness or self-respect (/s), how is Sunnybrook being “catty” when she’s literally just stating two facts? Rumpole is late. This is her class. Both those things are true. There is an implied criticism there, but it’s hardly undeserved. If anyone is close to being “catty” right now it’s Rumpole, arriving late without an apology and criticizing Sunnybrook for doing her job in Rumpole’s absence.

Which begins the very strange read of watching Rumpole give an excellent lesson while the story characterizes her as the bad guy (we’ve been down this road before...).

Outside of that rude entrance, I don’t think Rumpole does much wrong here, but it becomes clear by the end of the chapter that she’s someone we’re meant to dislike.

She begins her lesson by pointing out that “Before you got here, some of you were trained to rely on your teams. But what do you do when your team is gone and you’re on your own?” Yes! Excellent point! Just like Scarlet needs to know how to fight on sand while living in a desert, every huntsmen needs to know how to defend themselves solo in case they’re separated from their team, their team is knocked out, or they’re killed. Wasn’t Sun alone at the start of this novel? Didn’t Ruby fall through the floor into a White Fang hideout by herself? Wasn’t Blake out in the woods alone when she encountered Adam? In each case they either sought out additional help or help thankfully arrived in time — you should strive to have backup — but in the case that there’s none to be found, how well can you defend yourself? It honestly shocks me that these talented, experienced fighters so often reject learning something that’s so obviously useful, whether we’re talking about Ruby telling Ozpin they already know how to fight, or Scarlet scoffing at fighting on sand in Vacuo.

Rumpole also says that they need to learn how to fight without their weapons.

“The room filled with whispers. Fight without weapons? In Weapons Training? Is she kidding?”

See, this is the kind of nonsense I’m talking about. Are you telling me that none of these fighters have ever lost their weapon in battle? It’s never broken (Blake)? That they can’t reach the basic conclusion of their fists being a weapon too? Too often RWBY introduces entirely unnecessary reactions that don’t fit with the characters’ intelligence, experience, and overall world view. They say and do ridiculous things in the context of their fictional lives. I could bring up a Volume 8 “Divide” example, but I’m trying to keep these recaps spoiler free. For those of you who have seen the premiere though, you likely know what Ruby moment I’m talking about.

So the whole class is upset for an incredibly stupid reason. Scarlet has gone from his usual grumpy to downright pissed. Things only go from bad to worse when Rumpole chooses Velvet to fight Nebula.

“Oh, come on!” Coco said, intervening for her former teammate.

What exactly is the problem here? According to Scarlet it’s that they’re on the same team. “This is so not cool,” he whispers to Coco. He believes they “shouldn’t be forced to fight each other,” but why? He admits freely that they’ve all fought against peers before. What do they think this is? It’s just another sparing session. Apparently the distinction is “with the intent of beating them, especially in front of an audience.” So when sparing you normally don’t intend to win? Or if you spar no one can be there to see you do it? Both of those defeat the purpose of sparing in the first place: to improve, partly by receiving feedback.

Arslan provides a bit of clarification with “They should not fight each other. We’re teammates, and we have to learn to work together. This just undermines that goal” but that is a staggeringly narrow view of what it means to “work together.” Frankly, a worrisome one too. Are team relationships truly so fragile that they can’t handle a little competition? You wouldn’t think so given the continuing message of teams as friends, family, and coworkers — those relationships are rock solid — yet Arslan seems to believe that a single exercise would undermine all that. There might have been some justification if she’d specifically brought up the problem of fighting new team members, prior to forming those bonds, with the added difficulty of working with people who might not think much of you yet… but she doesn’t. No one here seems to think that teammates should fight, period.

So then what do we make of Ruby vs. Oscar in Volume 5? That’s almost the exact same setup, with two teammates fighting one another, one of whom is new and hasn’t formed a solid bond, in front of an audience, with an instructor — Ozpin — evaluating their performance. Do we honestly believe that because Ruby got frustrated for a hot second that any care she had towards Oscar evaporated?

Is Team CRDL incapable of fighting beside Pyrrha in the Battle of Beacon because she absolutely kicked their ass in class? Does Weiss grow to hate Winter because she beat her during training? Of course not. There is something to be said for an institution that constantly pits teammates against each other in a manner that interferes with the ability to form those bonds… but this isn’t it. This is a single exercise for students who are currently shocked that they’d ever need to fight solo/without a weapon, so they clearly need the lesson, yet their reactions are extreme. Coco yelling, Scarlet muttering about how bad this is, both of them praising Arslan like she stood up against an actual attack on Velvet — “Good for you, Arslan,” Coco whispered. Now there’s a leader for you, Scarlet thought. — and Yatsuhashi is going so far as to stand in front of Velvet to protect her. They’re all acting like Rumpole told them to engage in a death match, not do the exact thing they’ve come to this school for: learn how to fight.

So yeah, that all is exceptionally weird imo and feeds into the general sense that Rumpole is the supposed to be the bad guy here, but it’s not done persuasively. She’s oh so evilly making them fight one another, evilly smiling about it, evilly telling Coco that that’s enough… though none of this is actually, you know, evil. The closest we get is a moment when Rumpole “haughtily” says that “In the heat of battle, a weak teammate can be worse than the most powerful enemy,” which frankly comes out of nowhere given that she’s responding to Arslan’s criticism of the test as the whole. If you say, ‘We shouldn’t fight other because we need to learn to work together’ and your teacher responds with ‘Weak teammates are more dangerous than your enemy,’ that’s very nearly a non sequitur. Yeah, the general subjects of teammates and fighting are the same, but otherwise these points seem to belong to different conversations. What Rumpole says in the context she says it is nearly nonsensical and serves only to make her look cruel. She tosses out a startling truth unprompted, leaving the reader going, “Wow! Rumpole is awful!” unless they’re inclined to consider whether any of that makes sense.

That moment with Coco did catch my attention though, simply because we’re told that Rumpole’s eyes flashed and then Coco gasped, cluing Scarlet into the fact that she’s not as “unshakable as she usually let on.” That’s another extreme reaction to a tame event, as well as the second time this chapter that we’ve heard about Rumpole’s flashing eyes, the first occurring in the flashback when she was displeased with Sun. So perhaps it’s something involving her Semblance? I’d look it up, but I kind of what to be surprised in the next 173 pages. Got to find things to look forward to in all this lol.

One the group realizes that they do actually have to fight one another (the horror) Velvet and Nebula give up their weapons. As expected, Nebula jokes about how she hasn’t lost anything, “What good’s a camera in a fight, anyway?” which produces applause from other Shade students. Right, because Velvet got into a top academy and survived the Fall of Beacon without a weapon. I’m not sure if this is just bullying for the sake of bullying, outside the bounds of logic, or if these students, living in their magic-infused, crazy tech world, legitimately can’t reach the conclusion that Velvet uses photos as a weapon, even if they can’t figure out how. Either way, it’s not endearing, but at least this time my reaction aligns with what the text is aiming for. Rumpole tells them to “Save it for the arena” with “a hard edge in her voice,” but of course no one comments on when she sticks up for Velvet. Asking her to complete a simple exercise results in fury, but telling her own students to leave the newcomer alone results in silence. Seems about right.

The fight finally begins and it’s a tad underwhelming. There’s nothing specifically wrong with it—nothing that stands out on first read through anyway—it just not a particularly compelling action sequence. Any interesting tidbits are seen in the dialogue instead. Nebula continually establishes herself as another Mean Girl character, taunting Velvet with how she’s “been wanting to do this for a while” and how “fun” it is to fight her. The spectators, specifically Scarlet and Coco, comment on how Velvet is able to use her semblance outside of the hard light weaponry. Here, she draws on moves from “Pyrrha Nikos, Yang Xiao Long, and even Sun.”

Pyrrha 😭😭😭😭

Why the “even” though? 😒

Coco summarizes her style by saying that “Velvet may fight like a lot of different people, but no one else fights like Velvet.” I quite like that. Velvet is a living embodiment of being more than just the sum of your parts.

As the fight continues Nebula’s taunts grow more vicious, saying that she is better than Velvet because “We left Beacon because we knew it was a lost cause.” Beyond that just being a horrific thing to say, I want to ward off any potential comparisons between our Volume 7 conflict and this statement. RWBY might be trying to draw a parallel between the mean student who would abandon her school and the villainous general who would abandon his city (depending on how my Myers knew about upcoming plotlines), but there’s a huge difference between fighting a grimm army and fighting Salem herself with a grimm army. Velvet and the others were absolutely correct to fight for Beacon because they had a shot at taking it back. A slim one, but a shot nonetheless. Volume 7 provided none of that in regards to Team RWBY’s stance.

This remark does its job though and soon after Velvet becomes stuck in the sand, distracted and upset. Rumpole goes full Mean Teacher then, telling them to keep going. In fact, she quickly becomes the only mean person in the room because the formerly feuding teams are all banding together in Velvet’s defense and even Nebula randomly demonstrates honor—

(sorry I had to)—in how she approaches Velvet now: “[she] reached a hand down to help Velvet up.” Rumpole is clearly meant to be the enemy here, uniting friends, bullies, and even Sunnybrook too. Thing is, it’s once again not that bad? I’m not going to pretend that she isn’t harsh. Too harsh for a normal school? Absolutely. Too harsh for a combat school where these students are learning how to defend themselves from monsters and murderers during a war? Ehhh. Rumpole says that Velvet “beat herself” because “You don’t stop fighting until you can’t fight anymore.” That’s true. Within the context of a school exercise where everyone knows they’re safe and can stop the battle at any moment, it feels finished when Velvet gets stuck, but an actual life or death fight? Do we really think Velvet would stop trying to defend herself, passively staring up at her attacker while they do whatever they please with her? Of course not. She’d either find a way out or she’d go down fighting. You’re telling me that students who frequently break apart stone or, in Ruby’s case, blast through steel doors specifically meant to keep people inside can’t punch downwards and free themselves from some sand? Are the pieces of either of their weapons anywhere within reach? Can Velvet trick her attacker, pretending to be down for the count and then lashing out when she gets close? At the very least, as we saw with Sun’s first encounter this novel, can she talk enough to buy herself time until others arrive to help. Obviously there’s no arriving in this structured exercise, but the point is to try. Rumpole is telling them not to stop trying — to treat this exercise seriously (which they haven’t done from the start) — and they’re throwing back that challenging Velvet to get creative is too mean? In the same way that the students shouldn’t be pit against each other 24/7, they shouldn’t be pushed to their limit 24/7 either… but for once class? One lesson? When they know an attack is on the way and have already watched people die?

See, this is why I can’t take this cast seriously as the leaders of this war. When we’ve got scenes like this the characterization — whether intentional or not — is that they’re not nearly as devoted to their and others’ safety as they should be. Such characterization is fine when one group isn’t conducting a secret investigation, the other hasn’t been given licenses early, and both haven’t been through a battle that cost them the lives of numerous friends. But when they have experienced all these things, you have to wonder what they’re doing complaining about a teacher who says, ‘Hey, don’t just roll over and accept defeat.’

Eventually Coco, Yatsuhashi, Fox, and Arslan step in front of Velvet to keep the fight from continuing. Yatsuhashi pulls her from the sand and when free “she pushed his hands away.” That’s the other thing: no one seems interested in what Velvet wants. They all speak for her in deciding that she can’t and shouldn’t fight anymore.

As a suggested change, I would have liked this so much more if we have the group uncomfortable with the fight continuing, Velvet insisting that she can keep going, and then she asks them for help. Rumpole never laid down a hard rule that this was a 1v1 fight. That’s the unspoken assumption, yeah, but she speaks far more about them not using their weapons. If Velvet had called for reinforcements, so to speak, and the group had dropped their weapons before entering the sandpit, it would have arguably just been an extension of what they learned in reinitiation: “The only rule is survival.” Allies are right here, why wouldn’t she use them? Friends of Nebula step forward to back her up, Rumpole puts a stop to things before it becomes an all out brawl, she compliments Velvet for bending the rules to her advantage, and reminds everyone that this is why it’s so important to learn to work with their new teams: they’re your lifeline so long as you have them. Honestly though, a RWBY story that doesn’t make everyone over 30 out to be a literal or personal villain? Unrealistic.

What Rumpole does instead is remind them that they have to be prepared for the worst and the unexpected to happen. They no longer have the excuse of “No one could have predicted that”: “We know a threat is out there. We know it’s coming to Vacuo. To not prepare for that eventuality would be irresponsible, dangerous, and naïve.” Exactly! Too bad no one else wants to think about that truth. Instead, Scarlet mentally criticizes her for the “cheap shot” and Coco waylays Sunnybrook to ask if she thinks Rumpole seems alright. Of course, Sunnybrook agrees that she’s being too hard on them. She’s “mean” now and “picking on” Velvet.

It astounds me that these characters are grieving over their murdered friends in one chapter and then going ‘You’re mean to challenge us in training :( ’ the next. Don’t any of them want to defend themselves the next time? Or avenge their lost peers? Whatever other faults RWBY has, I think they did right by Jaune and Ren by making the former (briefly) Cinder obsessed and the latter angry that they’re going to a party rather than training. Going too far in those directions obviously isn’t healthy, but neither is demonizing the instructor trying to keep everyone alive. It’s the same underlying problem as Ironwood’s antagonism in Volume 7: armies and threats of martial law are a problem when there isn’t a justified emergency for them. RWBY has, time and time again, given us that emergency in a variety of ways, so why do the characters act as if they’re living in our world where such measures are extreme?

It’s a question I’ll never get an answer to, I’m sure. That’s where we leave the cast though, with Scarlet thinking about how “As long as they were here, every day was going to be a bad day in Vacuo.” Fantastically emo ending for this long and frustrating chapter. I am massively behind on my NaNoWriMo challenge thanks to normal RWBY Recaps, but this? This was a substantial boost. If you somehow made it to the end of all this please accept my virtual cookies.

I’d share the actual gingersnaps I made if that were possible :(

Alright. I’ve kept you all here long enough. Until next time! 💜

[Ko-Fi]

#rwby #mymetas #BTD Recaps #Before the Dawn

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treeni · 4 years ago

Text

Say My Name

Day 1 of Soulmate September

DRLAMP

Summary: When people turn 16, the name of their soulmate appears on their palms in black. When a person meets their soulmate and introduces themselves, the mark changes to a color reflecting that person. However, when Janus turned 16 all that appeared was a big black smudge.

Words: 5229

TW: swearing, mentions of traumatic childhood event, fire

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Taglist: @tsshipmonth2020

It was rude to ask, but that hardly ever stopped people from inquiring why Janus didn’t know the name of his soulmate. Everyone knew the name of their soulmates. When you reached the age of 16, it would literally appear across your palm. Janus remembered that year, all of his class mates, one by one coming in with names written across their palms, some in fancy script, some in large bubbly fonts, some in absolute chicken scratch. He remembered one person’s walked in with gloves on because it turned out the name was written in comic sans of all things. Yet, when he walked in with countless people waiting in anticipation for his big birthday reveal, all Janus had to show them was a large, seemingly meaningless black blob on his hand.

It seemed like no one around him had ever seen anything like it before. The doctors had said it might somehow be linked to his scars, the fire that he barely survived as a kid if not for his father’s near-suicidal rescue mission. They both made it out alive, but Janus was barely holding on. Weeks of hospitalization, monitoring, skin-grafts, and a lot of grief, left a child with scar tissue on the whole left side of his body. He wasn’t teased as much as you’d expect. When he finally returned to school a big, school-wide assembly was held about happened that left him being treated like some hero for some reason. Janus didn’t like the attention at the time, but it had its advantages in the long run. When he didn’t want to participate in gym, he could blame sensitivity and the other students were quick to defend him on it even against the teachers. When his work was late because he took a self-care day, he was never docked the extra time.

However, there were disadvantages too. The sensitivity was something he did deal with, especially against the cold or direct sunlight, the scar tissue didn’t handle the exposure well. It seemed that never knowing the identity of his soulmates, if he even had one, was one of them. Just another way he was different than everyone else.

Then again, the black spot might have been the universe sending another a big karmic “fuck you” his way for all of the times he used his scars to play innocent and garner sympathy. After all, it couldn’t have been Janus who pushed the bully jock down the stairs, not Janus. He was practically crippled after all!

That was how people treated him at least, even his parents. Especially his parents. It was a frustratingly fruitless endeavor to try and prove he wasn’t absolutely useless. So he let people think what they were going to think. If everyone wanted to believe he was a fragile snowflake that would fall apart at the slightest touch? Well, it just made easier to get away with things because general perception became his permanent alibi.

Still, when college rolled around, he took the first ticket out to the farthest, decent university that would take him and a distance he went. Between his high grades and essays he didn’t receive one rejection letter. Universities really ate up sob stories of grievances that had to be overcome and he certainly had a grievance. Still, he liked to think at least part of it was his own merit, even if it felt like a lie.

Though there were a lot of things he had already given up on in life by age 18, when he had first attended the university he had let himself be a little bit excited about it. It was a new place with new people, people who didn’t see the kid who almost burned in a house fire, the kid who would never find a soulmate. He had a chance to start over and be more than his circumstances.

Except, he quickly realized it was more of the same. He tried layering fabrics, covering up as much of his scars as possible so people wouldn’t notice as much. He already kept them mostly covered anyway to protect against sensitivity, so it wasn’t a huge change. He started wearing gloves, one to hide the scars and the other to hide the mockery of a soul mark. It seemed no matter what he tried though, it made no difference. He couldn’t hide the scars on his face.

So there he was, nearly finished his freshman year of college, sitting in the library by himself because he refused to repeat his past experiences. If people didn’t want to treat him like an actual person, then he resolved that he didn’t need them. He had settled on the path of becoming a lawyer and honestly it wasn’t like he needed anyone slowing him down anyway. Truly. Friends would just hold him back by taking up valuable studying time anyway.

Janus took a sip of bitter coffee to refocus himself as he stared blankly at the computer screen in front of him. He knew that his course load would most definitely keep him too busy for friends in the future, but the now was a bit of a struggle. He had actually... run out of assignments to complete and was nearly a month ahead. The professors had laid everything out in the syllabus so it was easy to just work his way through. Sure, when the library started to crowd with procrastinating students scrambling to make the grade, he’d be able to just relax because he’d all but finished his work for the semester. Still, it felt a little hollow. Nearly a month of... basically nothing to do, no one to see, just mindlessly attending classes to be assigned work he’d already completed.

It wasn’t the first time it happened either, Janus had been miserable toward the end of the previous semester as well after finishing early then too. The last few weeks were basically miserable stagnation that continued through the holidays because he refused to go home over the break. He only started to feel like himself again when the new term started and he had a whole new set of work to complete.

With a huff, he angrily clicked the e-learning program closed and was left unsatisfied by finality of it. He needed something, like an old school corded phone or maybe he’d just go key some poor sods car. The university’s president had a dedicated spot and he’d heard she was a real piece of work. He’d never met her himself, but he’d heard some stories that she was a real Jekyll and Hyde, except the Hyde was her default. Somehow her transition only seemed to magically take place when a camera was pointed in her direction. Speaking of cameras, if he redirected the security camera he could probably get away with it too. At least it’d be something to do. Plotting through how best to get away with it, he took a long sip of coffee. It was hot and burned his tongue, but taste-wise it as bitter as his current mood and felt appropriate somehow.

While contemplating if he should raid the library’s staff lounge for sugar (it’s not like they’d do anything about it anyway) a loud noise sounded from his left, immediately grabbing his attention. He realized the almost ‘harump’ like sound was a book hitting the floor. He didn’t think too much of it as he involuntarily looked in the direction of the sound’s source. Occasionally falling books were an inevitability in a place that housed so many. The person closest to the fallen book though caught his attention for more than just a passing glance.

He was tall, lean and muscular and Janus found himself immediately trying to swallow down the gay. It didn’t help that the guy wore low hanging cargo pants with ripped muscle shirt that showed off his midriff. His face was tucked in another book, but Janus could see an odd tuft of silver hair sticking out against a full head of soft dark curls. As he inspected further, he noticed the guy was covered in red splatters of some sort that he sincerely hoped was the ink of a red pen. He had a large smudge of whatever it was up his left bicep. He continued to flip through pages, seemingly at random before haplessly tossing the book onto the floor next to the first and pulling another off the shelf and doing the same.

Oh.

This guy was a bastard.

Well, at least that meant Janus’ guilt over staring immediately evaporated.

In fact, Janus just let himself lean back in his chair, coffee in hand and legs crossed as he openly watched the antics taking place in front of him. Other library patrons started to look toward the bastard as well as the sound of random books hitting the floor continued. Though, while Janus stared in amusement, the others mainly threw looks of annoyance. Not everyone had the leniency of being weeks ahead in their coursework he supposed. As the pile seemed to grow almost endlessly the sound seemed to pause as the bastard took longer with the current book in his hands, sifting through it slower than the others until he shut it with a reverberating ‘bang’ no quieter than any of the books falling to the ground and stuffed it into a backpack that was leaned against the shelves. Now without a blockade in front of the bastards face, Janus could see that he was unfortunately handsome. Even from his position a few feet away Janus could see the high cheekbones of an almost sculpted face. It was only ruined slightly by a nearly cartoonish mustache sitting atop a perfect cupids bow. It was almost as if a generic Greek artist carved the guy from straight marble and some teenager vandalized the statue with ratty clothes, an exploding pen, and god-awful facial hair. The lips he was focusing on stretched in a wide grin as Janus looked up to see the bastard wiggling his eyebrows at him. He scoffed in reply and pretended to gag, like he was uninterested.

You know, like a liar.

The bastard still had the audacity to stare his way with a big, wolfish grin and winked as he walked away... and straight into the banister separating the open concept from the lower floor. Tall, dark, and handsome fell across it, bending at the hips like a rag doll. He let out a yelp as the wind was knocked out of him from the railing pushing hard into his stomach and then he started to slide. Janus was running to his aid before he had even realized he had gotten up, his coffee a forgotten puddle on the floor as his cup was still rolling from the impact. The guy had managed to grab hold of the banister with one hand on his way down, but he was left dangling and it wasn’t clear how long he could hold himself there. Janus reached down and secured his grip by wrapping his forearms around the one gripping the banister. There was no way Janus would be able to pull him up on his own, but he could probably hold the position.

“Can you swing?” Janus asked, putting all of his focus and energy in his grip. Don’t let go, don’t let go, don’t let him slip, don’t let go.

Without answering, the guy did a small test swing that had Janus clenching his teeth and tightening his grip to make sure as hell this guy didn’t fall.

“Oh three then, one, two-” Janus counted and reached further down to lock their elbows straight to make sure this worked. “Three!”

With a strong swing of the hips the dangling stranger arched upward, with Janus using leverage principles from his position above to add the extra oomph needed for the guy to lock his foot underneath the rail and grab hold of the bars with his other hand. Janus let himself be used as a handhold as the stranger crawled over the banister and back onto solid ground. He was reminded of just how unfortunately attractive the guy was a strong hands gripped his shoulders and bright emerald eyes stared down at his own mismatched pair.

“My hero!” The guy yelled and then suddenly foreign lips were pressed against Janus’ own.

The kiss was over as soon as it began, but that didn’t stop Janus from noticing the tongue that had traced over his lips before he pulled away.

“Oh! Sorry! Pattoncake’s always reminding me to work on my boundaries. I’m supposta try askin’ before I start mackin’ ya know?”

Janus knew... some of those words. To be fair, he wasn’t even sure he was processing the ones he did know, still a little dazed between the guy in front of him nearly falling off the indoor balcony and then the sudden kiss. His first kiss.

“I’ve always wanted to do that though and it was just nice to be saved for once by someone who wasn’t Roman. No one wants to kiss that ugly mug anyway,” the stranger said before holding out a hand to him. “I’m Remus by the way!”

Janus was about to take his hand and shake it, the way normal people do. He really was. It’s just suddenly he felt something tingling against the skin of his right hand. It felt... intense, but didn’t hurt, like friction without the burn. Automatically glancing at his hand, he could see something glowing through the fabric of his glove. He immediately ripped it off without a second thought and stared down at the bright light carving out a name on his hand in big, electric green letters.

Remus.

Remus apparently found it appropriate to disregard the boundaries advice and stepped into Janus’ personal space, taking the green glowing hand in both of his own, staring down hard at the name that had appeared for a moment. Without warning Remus dropped the hand to move both of his own to Janus’ shoulders, squeezing.

“What’s your name?!” Remus demanded, his hands trembling as if he was holding back a deep will to shake the boy in his grip.

Janus didn’t answer immediately, he just stared back at the emerald eyes in shock while it felt like his stomach was trying to crawl out of his own throat. Taking a couple hurried breaths through his nose as he tried to push back the sheer panic that had overtaken him in this big what the fuck of a situation, he managed to whisper out in more breath than noise, “Janus.”

They both watched in equal astoundment as Remus’ own hand began to glow as a name that was previously scrawled out in inky black redesigned itself into a bright golden yellow. Janus could see that unlike his own hand that now had green letters against a large blob of black, Remus’ was a rainbow of letters in different colors overlapping each other.

Suddenly Remus’ strong hands had scooped him up into a twirl as he yelled, “It’s you!”

Some poor bastard with a cart at the edge of Janus’ vision had the audacity shush them and Janus flipped them the bird. If it were any other situation, he would have taken note of exactly who they were and plotted how best to ruin their lives in the most intricate way possible, but he was a little preoccupied at the moment. The fact that they were in the midst of picking up the pile of books Remus left behind didn’t buy them any mercy points either.

“Oh they’re going to love you!”

With that, they were off with Remus’ backpack bouncing with each long stride. Janus wrapped his arms tightly around Remus’ neck, holding on for dear life as the man ran like a bullet out of the library, artfully sidestepping anyone in his way. He was clearly practiced at being a general menace. Why not add kidnapping to the list? Not that Janus really minded the feeling of Remus’ chest pressed against his own.

His soulmate’s chest, Janus had to remind himself as he looked back down at the green letters branded against his hand. He felt tears well up in the corners of his eyes.

He had a soulmate.

Janus choked back a sudden sob, and gave into the absurdity of the situation by letting his head rest against Remus shoulder as he was carted off to who-the-fuck-knows-where. He was half certain this was some surreal dream.

He was half terrified that he would wake up.

Before Janus had really caught up with what was happening or even where he was, he found himself being deposited in a lap of someone who looked just as confused as he felt. At least it was comfortable as arms covered in the fabric of a plush hoodie caught him as Remus dropped him while announcing “Lo, I got your book!”

“What the fuck Rem?” voiced the person he was now being held by.

Janus looked up to survey the area. He began internally panicking to find five very attractive boys suddenly looking in his direction. This had to be a dream. He’d wake up and there would be no harem and definitely no soulmate mark beyond the black blob he’s known since he got the damn thing. The check he was pressed against let out a huff and Janus had to lean backwards a bit to see a scowl aimed in Remus’ direction. Scowl or no, he was beautiful. Dark eye shadow and long bangs that couldn’t quite obscure the stunning amethyst eyes.

“I see you checked out more than just a textbook from the library Remus,” said the one apparently called Lo. Even from his strange position Janus could tell that Lo was sat with straight posture, but somehow seemed relaxed. He had sharp, angular features, a pointy nose, and a strong jawline. Thick, black framed glasses did nothing to obscure the picturesque looks of a truly symmetrical face. Lo looked unphased by Janus’ sudden presance, especially compared to the others as he accepted the textbook Remus offered him without so much as a frown.

“Cute right?” He asked, tossing his arms around another boy in the group who was staring at Remus with a frown. He was in a cyan polo with extra floofy hair and a splattering of freckles across his nose and cheekbones. “He saved me from falling off the banister Patty!”

“Again Remus?” Groaned the last boy of the group and glancing in his direction left Janus wondering if he’d even be able to speak if he wanted to. He looked like Remus. He was a little less lanky, a little more top heavy with more defined arms and shoulders especially. There was no cartoonish mustache on this one.

Janus’ mouth had gone dry. There was too much attractive surrounding him.

He couldn’t swallow down the gay anymore.

The unnamed one who looked like Remus and apparently had the same lack of personal space suddenly took his hand and pulled him into a standing position before dropping to his knee and bowing deeply like a god damn fairy tale prince, without letting go of Janus’ gloveless hand.

“You have my deepest gratitude for saving my brother. I, Roman Royal, am in your debt.”

Janus was going to tell him to get the fuck off the groud and stop being so god damn cliche and charming and adorable because guys like that didn’t exist in the real world, but then both he and prince charming were left awestruck as they watched Janus’ hand start to glow again. Because of course it did.

“Whoops! Did I forget to mention my last soulmate mark changed?” Remus asked before cackling as he sprawled his legs across the lap that Janus had vacated.

“Wait, he’s-!” The hooded one exclaimed underneath Remus’ legs.

“Yep!” Remus said cheerfully, popping the ‘p’ sound.

Janus didn’t even realize he was crying until the goddamn prince charming, his soulmate Roman reached out and gently wiped the tears away with a softness that matched every fucking YA novel love interest ever.

His chin was titled up to stare into ruby eyes, only to find that Roman was crying too and how dare he still be so beautiful crying?! Who sanctioned this?

“-please, my dear, please, please, please tell me your name,” Roman whispered, cradling his cheeks on both sides as he wiped away Janus’ tears with his thumbs. Janus wasn’t sure how Roman could stand touching the scars on his face, but Roman didn’t seem phased at all. He didn’t hesitate in the slightest or treat the scarred skin any differently than the unmarred side.

“I’m... I’m Janus.”

Janus wasn’t sure where to look as four lights suddenly appeared, surrounding him from all directions. As the lights faded he found himself swept up for a second time, but now in Roman’s arms as he too twirled Janus in the opposite direction of his brother.

“It’s finally you!” He cried and kissed Janus on the top of the head before setting him down.

Janus swayed on his feet, dizzy from spinning and just very overwhelmed. This was a lot. This day was a lot.

“I’m so sorry!” Roman exclaimed, taking Janus’ hand in between both of his own and looking down at Janus with eyes full of remorse. “I should have asked before kissing you! Or even grabbing you at all, I was just so happy-”

“I-it’s okay... I’m just... this is just a lot,” Janus admitted, trying to push down his strong sense of panic. He had never had this much one on one social interaction... ever. Much less with his soulmates!

“Hey,” said the smooth voice of the one in the hood as he reached across Remus’ legs to grab ahold of Janus’ sleeve. “Breathe okay? In for four.”

Janus turned his attention to the soothing quiet voice, focusing on it and only it as it slowly grounded him. Lo pulled Remus’ legs away, as the hooded boy scooted forward in his seat, taking each of Janus’ hands in his own and rubbing soothing circles into both the bare skin of his right hand and the fabric of his still-gloved left hand.

“Hold it for seven,” he said, keeping strong and intent eye-contact. Janus wasn’t sure he could look away if he wanted to. He felt entranced. “Breathe out for eight. You’re doing great.”

“If it helps you feel any better Ro, I already macked on him without asking first too so-” Remus said with a big grin, like the cat that got the cream.

“That’s not something you should be proud of Rem!” Roman said and swatted his brother on the shoulder.

“Remus, what have we said about personal space?” The floofy that was called Patty said.

“Uggggh,” Remus groaned dramatically and let himself fall backwards. as if the two laps he occupied were a fainting couch. “Roman did it tooooo!”

“I didn’t try to make out with him without permission! Plus, I apologized!”

“So did I!”

Their conversation continued on from there. It was always so strange to be talked about, as if you weren’t there. Still, a deep gentle voice was guiding him away from their squabble, refocusing him on the moment, on hands within his own and the sound of exaggerated breathing that was demonstrated for him to match.

It took a few minutes, but he started to feel as if he was regaining his bearings. Janus looked down at their joined hands and saw colors peaking out at the edges of the palm holding his. More importantly, he saw yellow, the same yellow he saw appear on Remus’ hand with his own eyes.

He had to know.

He wanted to know.

“What’s your name?” Janus asked, tugging gently at the hand that had his name inscribed against it.

“We don’t have to do this now, we can do it later. It’s okay to wait, I promise.”

Janus was almost convinced, almost let it go, but he couldn’t. He had gone years believing he’d spend his life alone and now his own name apparently was written across the palms of five people.

Five soulmates.

He wanted to know.

“Please- I just... never expected this. I thought... I thought-”

“That you’d be alone,” the purple eyed stranger muttered sympathetically and in that moment he knew. They must have been like him, waking up one birthday expecting a name only to find an illegible smudge of ink instead. “I’m Virgil.”

His palm shined as bright purple letters defined themselves against against the black and it was finally enough to be able to decipher the remaining two names still in black.

He could read Patton and Logan.

“It’s so nice to meet you Virgil,” Janus said, squeezing the hand still holding his. “Before today I didn’t believe you were real.”

He heard various laughs around him as Virgil snorted. He even heard a “mood!” somewhere behind him.

Janus glanced back down at his own palm again. He was determined to never see black on it ever again. He squeezed Virgil’s hand once before relinquishing it and squared his shoulders, walking over to the last two he had yet to officially met. Roman scooped his brother out of their collective grasps and deposited him against the currently unoccupied metal bench to the side of the C shape the three formed.

“Hey!” Remus yelled as he was dropped.

“Stay still for once you absolute delinquent,” Roman said, and sat on his brothers back pretzel-style, effectively pinning him in place.

One sat stark still, his hands folded in his lap, but bowed his head slightly with the barest smile touching the corners of his mouth as Janus approached. The other was shaking his leg, drumming his fingers and chewing on his lip with big nervous eyes and he looked toward Janus, like he couldn’t’ sit still if he wanted to. Janus fell to his knees, cautiously putting one hand on each of their legs and looking up at two curious gazes.

“Before today I thought I would spend the rest of my life alone, that there was no one out there for me. I didn’t have a name and now-” Janus said, cutting himself off as his voice cracked.

“And now you have five,” said the one in the dark blue tie.

Janus could only nod in return, trying to will away the need to cry again. He was never this emotional, today was just... an extra bitch on the feelings meter.

“I need to know.”

The one who had been shaking’s hands flow up and covered his mouth as he cooed out an appreciative noise. Janus waited, trying to give him time to gather his bearings.

“Can I hug you?” he squeaked out and Janus couldn’t hold back the smile as he nodded.

Immediately, hands were thrown around his neck as the life was squeezed out of him. After a few seconds though, it relaxed and he was led into a rocking motion that was reminiscent of a boat, swaying listlessly against a gentle river. After hesitating, Janus’ own arms found their way to a waist and then around a back as he pulled the humming boy closer to himself.

They stayed like that for several minutes and Janus wasn’t sure if it was for the his own sake or for the sake of the boy in his arms. Maybe both.

“I’m Patton,” he finally whispered and Janus didn’t even bother to look down at the glow. He preferred to stay with his eyes closed, his ear leaning close enough to the pulse point of Patton’s neck to hear the beat of his heart. Still, as nimble fingers eventually tapped his shoulder, he looked up to find he still had one more person left to meet.

Before pulling away, Janus made sure to take a good look at the cyan that had found itself on his hand. Patton squeezed him tightly one last time before finally letting go of his grasp. Maybe it was revenge for the impromptu kisses he’s already received or maybe like the others he’d simply been lost in the moment but before pulling away completely, Janus leaned down and ghosted a kiss against Patton’s neck, causing the cute sky-eyed boy beneath him to shiver. It only made him more endearing.

Then he turned for he had one last person to meet. Standing up Janus found he was tall and sturdy looking. He wasn’t as broad shouldered as Roman, but he still looked strong and proportionally so. It was like every part of him was carefully curated.

This time, Janus knew his name.

Logan.

The only name left on his palm in perfect typed Arial.

“It is ironic that after struggling to read the names at all, the last of my soulmate’s names becomes more difficult to read upon its reveal,” Logan said, holding up his palm, yet it still took him a moment to understand.

Oh!

Oh.

His name would have been in black before and the yellow would most definitely be more difficult to read.

“Do not misunderstand. I am not displeased in the slightest, I just find it a bit humors. The black was always a glaring and ugly reminder of what I did not have.”

“Tell me about it,” Janus muttered in return.

Logan’s smile grew slightly as he reached down to take Janus’ hand within his own and gently held it up as he traced over the letters he recognized as his own still in black.

“Would you tell me your name?” Logan asked in a murmur before leaning down and leaving a kiss on Janus’ palm unapologetically.

Janus’s cheeks flushed at the care, but blinked as his mind went blank in confusion.

“But... you already...”

“You gave your name to Roman,” Logan whispered and tilted his head gently. “I want you to give it to me intentionally.”

Janus gulped, staring up at the sapphire eyes that were so intently focused on his own. “Janus. My name is Janus.”

“It is a pleasure to finally meet you Janus,” Logan said and bowed just slightly at the shoulders. “My name is Logan.”

The light shined between them as Logan still held Janus’ palm up and Janus watched the various streaks of blue in Logan’s eyes dance like light reflected through crystalline. With the deep blue lettering now situated on his hand, every trace of that ulgy black smudge was finally gone from his hands.

He had soulmates.

He wouldn’t be alone.

“Damn, Lolo’s got more game then you Ro,” Remus snarked despite being squished underneath Roman.

“Shut up Rem!” Roman declared with an indignant huff.

“No, he’s got a point Ro,” Virgil said, chin in palm and a blush across his cheeks as he watched Logan seduce the newest member of their unit.

“Awww, I think you’re Romantic Ro!” Patton declared reaching for Roman’s hand from his current place next to Virgil.

“Patton and Janus are currently my favorites and to hell with the rest of you,” Roman declared, as Remus cackled underneath him. Virgil stuck out his tongue and Logan just shot Roman a smug smirk.

Yeah.

Janus thought he was going to like it here but....

He would have the rest of his life to make absolutely sure.

#sanders sides #roman sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #fanfiction #drlamp #tsshipmonth2020

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risingsouls · 4 years ago

Text

Recruited: Chapter 4

[I did it. They did the thing! Their favorite thing! Yee!]

The Saiyan prince only released his exasperated growl once his scouter beeped, indicating the emperor severed the line of communication. In battle, Vegeta responded to the most unexpected changes fluidly and with little issue. Outside of the field in which his very nature, his blood, offered him innate skill in, shifting anything he had grown comfortable with bristled his ill temper. Within a few weeks, he grew used to Nappa’s absence on the jobs assigned to him and Raditz. The oaf would rejoin their ranks when he completed his final session with that new recruit, and Vegeta’s life would return to the normalcy he had become accustomed to over the past few decades.

That was until Frieza graced him with news he didn’t particularly care for.

“Frieza’s really making that woman our fourth, huh?” Vegeta grunted and climbed out of his pod to join the taller Saiyan, deeming words unnecessary when Raditz heard the whole conversation. “I suppose there are worse candidates, especially in looks, but she’s a complete rookie. Won’t she just slow us down?”

“Most likely.” He tapped the button on the side of his scouter. Nappa’s power level flashed across the screen on the other side of the planet, the second nearby no doubt his pupil’s. Their new teammate. Her power level had increased some, though he couldn’t decide if he wanted to attribute it to Nappa’s tutelage in ki control or her own natural competence. "Nappa's reports were...promising for her ability as a warrior, at least. But we both know the oaf is like a puppy and gets excited over even the most mediocre of talents. Not to mention he could be fudging her progress to make himself look like less of a failure."

"I suppose so. Guess only time will tell."

Vegeta fought the urge to roll his eyes. Had he not harbored his own curiosity and desire to see their new addition in action, he would have berated Raditz for his moping and apparent attempt to play on the prince's impatience to convince him to peek in on their training. It wouldn't be the first time he tried to convince him when they returned to base before Nappa finished his session with his trainee. Now they had a viable reason to outside of drooling over her.

His boots left the metal of the landing dock. "Come along, Raditz, I think it's time I take a personal look at this woman's skill." A slight smirk curled his lips as he took to the sky, that innate excitement for a proper rival to his strength tantalizing. The thrill of battle that often fizzled to nothing in the face of disappointment after disappointment in his opponents' overall power and fighting prowess. "Perhaps I will give her a proper test myself. See what she's really capable of. Nappa no doubt either sparred her himself or sicced his Saibamen on her. Neither a particularly telling gauge of what she can do."

Raditz snorted beside him. "You're not going to try and kill her, are you? Poor girl's only been here a month and hasn't even been in the field yet."

"Tch, well I'm not planning on holding back if that's what you're getting at." The prince shot his cohort a scathing glare, then returned his attention to the front. "What would that prove? If she dies, it just shows Frieza wasted his time in plucking her from whatever backwater planet she hails from."

If Raditz had any further protest, he astutely kept it to himself, the rest of their flight completed in silence. Obsidian eyes narrowed when he found Nappa chatting with the woman rather than training her. Typical. The last day to push his student and he sees it as an excuse to slack off. Had he known Frieza would force her onto his team, he would have suggested he train her himself.

“Of course I would find you flapping your gums rather than training like you’re supposed to be,” he scolded Nappa, landing with Raditz behind the pair. Both turned to face him, and the large Saiyan’s incredulous expression amused him. The woman blinked in surprise, her head tilted slightly as her gaze roved from him to Raditz and back again. Her lips curved into a light smirk of her own, and he noted it twitch further upward as Nappa stuttered and grasped desperately for an explanation.

“We were only taking a small break,” he finally settled on, huffing and folding his arms. “What the hell are you two doing here, anyway? Come to see the progress I helped my pupil achieve, or did you just miss me that much?”

"Actually, the jobs have been rather peaceful without your big mouth running all the time," Raditz said, the loose end of his tail thwapping lightly against his armor. Though he addressed Nappa, Vegeta didn't miss how he observed the woman. She was either oblivious or blatantly ignoring him. "We were talking about convincing you to retire, old man. It would be worth the peace and quiet."

Nappa raised a fist and growled. "You little whelp! I could turn you inside out without breaking a sweat!" he shouted. Another huff and a warning glance from the prince calmed the general, his tone returning to as conversational as the blustery Saiyan could manage. "Vegeta would boot your ass to the curb before me, runt, and you know it."

"I'm about to put you both in the ground of you don't quit squabbling." Vegeta rested his eyes back on the woman. Dropping her blissful ignorance, her golden gaze shifted to meet his obsidian, her amusement lingering as a spark in her eyes and the hint of that smile on her lips. Pretty, but that meant little to a Saiyan prince. Power was the language of respect.

He raised a gloved hand and beckoned her to follow him with a pair of crooked fingers. The wave of surprised expressions that spread from her and then to Nappa amused him. "Let's go. I don't care what Frieza wants, you're not joining my crew unless I personally test your skill." He halted in the center of the open space, and his lips twisted upward as he turned to face the trio he left behind. "It's about time someone gave you a proper challenge, woman."

"My name is Nabooru," she asserted, blatantly ignoring Nappa's paling and silent warning. An unneeded one; Vegeta had yet to decide if a strategy of fear would be needed to force her in line. If she survived their spar at all. She followed in his path and halted a respectable distance away, hands on her hips. No hesitation to rise to his challenge, the chance to prove herself, a commendable trait. In light of it and his own nature raring for a decent fight, he could excuse and even laud her boldness in correcting him. For now.

"You must be Vegeta."

"A lot of good our names will do you if you don't survive this," he retorted with a dark chuckle. He sank into a combat stance, arms lifted and knees bent. "Come on. Show me how much Nappa lied in his reports about you."

Her full lips pressed together and turned downward in a frown and he saw the spark of anger flash in her eyes. Good. If he pissed her off, she was less likely to pull her punches, a mistake regardless of her mood. Outside of testing the waters, he refused to go easy on her. The rest of the universe wouldn't, so neither would he. She took his lead and took up her own stance. "I think you're going to find I'm difficult to kill if that's your goal here."

No sooner had the word left her lips did she launch forward, and Vegeta dodged her first punch by a hair, the wind from rushing over his face and ear as he tilted it to the side. She followed up with a flurry of light-speed attacks, bent on forcing him on the defensive with her speed. A trait he underestimated and the half second it took him to readjust to it cost him ground and a rattling strike to his forearm when he couldn't move fast enough to outright dodge it. She was no amateur, certain to be mindful of leaving openings while she attacked. The title of Elite she supposedly held on her home planet, according to Nappa, a meaningful one, at least. How often he found soldiers claiming to be their army's greatest, most elite warrior only for him to tear through them like tissue paper, or their skill in combat questionable at best.

He caught her next punch in his gloved palm, the crackle of her orange energy sparking around the connection. He grit his teeth at the pain, at the effort to keep it from completing its course to his face, revealing elongated canines, but his lips remained stretched upward in a grin. Adrenaline thrummed through his system, that thrill of battle, of a challenge, that evaded him for so long igniting a wildfire within him. Perhaps he would try harder not to kill her after all. When time permitted, he could use a sparring partner like her.

Vegeta took advantage of the halt in attacks he created and pushed back on her with his own. Despite the shift in his offensive stance, she refused to play fully defensive, trading blows instead of only working to block or dodge them to prevent damage while still ensuring she didn't take anything too critical. They used every inch of the battlefield, the sky, a dance of strategizing and re-strategizing, breaking up the high-velocity swapping of melee blows when either of them took a rattling hit that threw them off their groove by being forced to create a pocket of space with a knock back or doing so themselves for a millisecond of reprieve. It was all either of them seemed keen on allowing.

Whether out of exhaustion or a moment of sloppiness, the Saiyan gripped her ankle before the swing of her leg could crash into his head. Surprise ghosted over her features and he wasted no time in taking advantage of it. Laughing, he yanked her backward and flung her back toward the planet's surface. With the speed at which she sailed, her cry was a short one; the Gerudo's body slammed into the ground, a cloud of rust-colored dust pluming above the shallow crater it made. Knowing that wouldn't stop her for long--or, perhaps hoping for such--Vegeta charged ki in either of his palms.

"I hope you had fun with the warm up!" he crowed, laughter continuing as he fired a volley of ki blasts straight downward where she had landed.

A blip from his scouter was all the warning he had, the light from his blasts covering her daring tactic from sight. Orange ki enveloping her and protecting her to some degree from the weak blasts, Nabooru rocketed straight upward through his barrage. He watched in surprise as she deflected a sphere with a swipe of her arm. A distraction, as he failed to see her other arm rise, her hand glowing with energy. With little more than a few feet between them, he had no choice but to cross his arms over his face as the blast struck and sent him flying back from the force. He rolled off of it with a growl only for pain to erupt in his back, his skull, as she brought her leg down on him and sent him hurtling back to the surface. He collided with a grunt and another surge of pain throughout every bone and muscle.

Sensitive ears pricked at the sound of the whoosh of air. He flipped on his back in time to see Nabooru descending on him, knee bent and aimed for his abdomen. Cursing her extended his arms and captured her knee in both hands, the force of her drop forcing him downward into the ground. He growled and powered up himself, the planet quaking around him and energy crackling between them. Grunting, he pushed up to a seated position and threw her off. She somersaulted and skidded along the ground. He sprang back to his feet as she twisted around to face him again.

"You've done better than I thought," he said. A compliment he didn't give out lightly. While still no match for him, at least she had proven she could handle herself in a fight against a powerful opponent. His doubts had been minimized a degree or two, at least, and she offered him a better spar than most could. Something he didn't realize he craved until his first attacks that landed didn't break her. That instead of dropping to her knees and begging him for her life, she was rising to her feet for next round. The only thing keeping his temper in check.

He noted the rise and fall of her chest as she used the reprieve to catch her breath, her eyes alight and a proud smirk returned to her lips. “Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself.”

Vegeta chuckled, half curious about how long she would last if she were fresh. A test for another time. “Don’t thank me yet.” He widened his stance and pressed his palms together, fingers crooked inward and pointed in opposite directions. Purple energy crackled around his hands, his body, his smirk verging on crazed. He pulled his hands back by his head. He vaguely heard some semblance of a protest from their audience, witnessed the woman’s eyes widened as her scouter warned her of the rapid rise in power level. To her credit, she didn’t freeze, but shifted her own stance and powered up herself, gathering her own orange energy in her hands.

“You’ve been training with ki, right? Let’s see how much it paid off! Galick Gun!” He pushed his hands outward toward her, firing his signature attack. “Fire!”

He felt her blast collide with his, pushing back against his own energy but ultimately matching it and resulting in a stalemate of violet and tangerine swirling between them. His scouter informed him of another surge of her power, the result of it pushing on his and forcing him to dig his heels to maintain his ground. Had this been another situation, he wouldn’t toy with her. He would pour the last of his energy into his blast and watch as it swallowed her and her ki like an insatiable beast. Offering false hope wasn’t usually his style, but he supposed he could reward her promising showing and quick thinking.

The orange-gold ki crept closer and closer until his began to spray outward at all angles the closer it got to the source. Another second and he forced the remaining energy needed to overwhelm her attack, the beam widening with the ki he fed into it. It sped toward her and he heard her wail, the sound of it drowned out by the crash of the blast colliding with a rock formation several meters behind her.

Vegeta lowered his arms and straightened, waiting for the smoke to clear to see how she fared. The dust thinned and he hummed in approval when her standing silhouette came into focus. Upon clearing entirely, it revealed the Gerudo with her arms crossed in front of her, armor chipped and a fair portion of her battlesuit ripped and tattered. Even from a distance, he could see her body quaking with the effort to stubbornly remain on her feet.

He strode over to her and her arms dropped to her side and, as though it sapped her of what remained of her energy, she swayed forward. The prince caught her with a gloved hand pressed to her abdomen. He snorted when she mirrored him, obviously anticipating an attack.

“I’m not going to kill you. This time.” Her knees finally gave out and he let her sink to the ground, her hands catching her and keeping her from eating dirt. How fitting. Kneeling to a prince. Her new commander. The display of his power should have more than cemented that in her mind and serve to keep her in line. If she knew what was best for her and didn’t want to properly incur his wrath.

Still...due to being the only Saiyans left and loyal to the remaining member of their race’s royalty, he never had the need to assert his dominance in their group. He gave orders, Nappa and Raditz followed them with little to no argument. Could he really be sure with her? A stranger with no real reason to be loyal other than to spare her own life?

Spurred by the remnants of adrenaline and the heightened mood the decent spar put him in, he wasn’t quite ready to leave the game on such a simple note. He reached down and rested his hand beneath her chin, tilting her face upward and forcing her to meet his gaze. He smirked down at her. She winced with the sudden jerk and though her eyelids were heavy with exhaustion, her lips remained fixed in a stubborn line.

“Welcome to the team.” He let her chin drop and he flipped around on his heel and returned to his cohorts. “Let’s go.”

Nappa glanced between Vegeta and the Gerudo still on all fours. “Shouldn’t we--?”

“Now, Nappa.” He glared at both Saiyans until they ascended and started back for the base. He cast the woman one last glance, the end of his tail swaying idly at his hip, and watched her shakily regain her feet. A smirk twitched his lips, and he followed after Raditz and Nappa.

He could deal with this arrangement.

#fic: recruited #:: nabooru ☀#// vegeta ♅#vegeta is such a shit tho

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