#( and the fact his body was still trying to put itself back together after getting beheaded & quartered )

[endawn]

still thinking about a scenario where the tadcrew denies pax’s request to join them the first two opportunities, they’ll still have a third chance at moonrise depending on how they go about it. if they find him in bath’s hidden room. they’d find him vivisected and quartered on the operating table with a sustained sunlight spell above him to halt his regeneration. notes in the room describing his absolute rampage and slaughter through the compound before being overwhelmed by ketheric & the regrouped true souls still alive. probably attempting to tap into his immortality so they don’t have to solely rely on the nightsong. the crew can disable to spell and drip some of their blood into his mouth to kickstart his healing factor. then step waaaaaay back.

[satorugu]

In Every Era Part 2 (Sukuna x f!reader)

She is the reincarnation of his love, and he plans to be with her in every era.

PART 1 HERE

Warnings: Blood, violence, fighting, angst, lots of fluff

Note: The readers technique relates to ice and being able to lower the temperatures around her enough to create it. If the text is italicized it is one of the dreams she had. All take place during the Heian era, both Heian era and the version of Sukuna in Itadori's body is included. Takes place during the Shibuya Incident, and quotes the episode's sub at times.

The dreams hadn't stopped.

First, it was that night, the night she fell asleep in his arms.

Then she had another one following it.

Then a third.

It was always a memory from her point of view, so vivid she felt she could still feel his touch when she woke up. They were small, but they got her through the night, always sleeping straight through it.

That kiss was imbued with cursed energy. She didn't know how, but she knew that had something to do with it.

She couldn't take her mind off of it.

Every single night.

"Curses and mutations are mindless, you don't need to harness much cursed energy to exorcise them, although it is made out to be that way," Sukuna said. "If you make a hit on them before they can attack you, you have a better chance at survival."

She was sitting on his lap, up upon his throne. His body heat radiated onto her shoulders, his strong abdomen pressed against her back.

"Is there a reason you're sharing this with me?" (Y/N) asked curiously.

"So you will utilize this information when the time may come my dear," he told her. "Aim for the head."

"I don't think it will ever come," she laughed.

"You are correct to assume that," Sukuna said, putting a hand on her waist and pulling her closer to him. "I won't allow for anyone to harm you."

This was a trick.

The King of Curses wouldn't and couldn't possess emotions like these. He murdered hundreds of thousands, known to be the most powerful sorcerer in history. He needed something from her, to get her to trust him so he could use her and kill her afterward.

These memories were false, she was sure of it.

So she began avoiding Itadori, training after hours and for longer durations to be able to both strengthen herself and not be confronted by the eyes below his. In the end she would return to her dorm exhausted, forgetting that when she fell asleep she would be greeted by what she fled most.

Then a week had turned into a month.

"Master Sukuna had a gift delivered to your dressing room," the maid said almost timidly to (Y/N), as she bowed her head.

She made an emphasis on the fact it was in her dressing room rather than her bedroom. Being that her quarters were Sukuna's, the only part of the palace that was officially hers was her dressing room, which translated to a massive closet. It was filled to the brim with the nicest jewelry available in the lands, along with dresses he had especially picked out for her. It was also a known fact that the garden belonged to (Y/N), although it wasn't claimed by her. She fell in love with the area, so he made it off limits to others.

Unfortunately for her, he was away, handling a nearby village.

Two more servants gathered at the large double doors that led to the dressing room, opening them for her.

Inside was a large bouquet of flowers, white at the tips that slowly faded into a reddish-purple. It was as if they were glowing, vibrant and perky underneath the lighting. The vase was a piece within itself, like clear vines that curled around the stems of the flowers and bunched them all together.

Next to it sat a scroll, bound together by a cursed energy imbued seal. She was quick to unravel it, reading the hand-written, inked message.

'Although I am far away, I will remind you of my love.'

'These flowers are eternal, they will forever stay by your side, just as I will.'

'Sincerely, Ryo.'

She didn't think much of the dream, assuming it was some way of trying to make her think he actually loved her. Instead, she lingered around the campus after hours, honing a new ability with her ice technique. Once she grew sleepy, she returned to her dorm, entering the dark room to see something glowing on her desk.

It was a vibrant and perky flower, with white at the tips that slowly faded into a reddish-purple. While it didn't sit in a vase, it was unnaturally filled with life, acting as a light in pitch black atmosphere.

She thought she was hallucinating, reaching out a hand to pick it up, hoping it would dissolve as soon as she touched it.

The flower sat in her room for a week after that, as she continued to deny the significance behind it.

(Y/N) thought she could get out of having to see Itadori, but it seemed otherwise when another crisis hit.

A large curtain was cast around Shibuya, along with one at Meiji-Jingumae Station. Reports that mutated humans were attacking civillians inside were quick to spread, and both (Y/N) and Itadori were sent to handle it.

"I'll deal with the mutated ones, you search through the station for anymore hostages," she told him quickly, hoping they wouldn't have to interact much.

As soon as the two had met up inside the city, the eyes underneath his own appeared. They felt familiar now, a burning reminder of the dream she had the previous night.

They were in his bedroom, if it even could be called that.

It was larger than the average, with a desk that sat by an extravagant stained glass window, and a large table towards the center. The bed for the two of them sat against the wall, both of them already out of it, yet choosing to stay in one another's company.

Sukuna stood around the table, eyeing a set of scrolls as his wife sat at his desk. The chair was far too big for someone of her size, which he grew to love.

“I want to perform a binding vow between you and I,” he started.

“A binding vow?” (Y/N) asked, having yet to take her eyes off what she was reading.

“A pact bound through Jujutsu, except this one has specific terms accounted with it.”

As the words left his mouth he slipped his hand around her jaw, taking her by surprised as she looked up at him.

"I want to be with you in every era, as you pass, and once you are reincarnated. We will be bound together, it will be destined for you to wed me."

"And it's consequences?" she wondered.

"There are none, this vow is unable to be broken, it will see through that we are meant to be," Sukuna said. "And that you will remain mine."

She wasn't that knowledgeable on binding vows like the one he described, except for the fact it was supposed to leave a mark on your wrist. (Y/N) didn't have one though, so she assumed it was false.

A mutated curse barreled towards her, shards if ice being driven through it's skull as her pink haired friend ran down the hall. She flipped over it's corpse as it fell to the ground, attacking the others before they could make a move on her, and aiming for their heads.

The efficiency behind it was impressive, as she scolded herself internally for doing as the King of Curses had once advised.

And yet she continued for what felt like an hour, going through the motions up until the lights flickered off and she could hear fighting in the lower levels of the station.

Something was off.

(Y/N) jumped down the set of escalators and began running through the station that was almost unrecognizable. She could tell Itadori had fought here, as the remains of his strength imprinted different surfaces.

She was following her gut at that moment, turning down a set of halls until she saw a light bloom at the end of one. She could feel the heat as she got closer, as it formed an orange and yellow blur.

Screams came after the flames.

Two girls who had somehow survived being burnt alive, each coughing and holding onto one another.

As she turned the corner she saw him, Itadori, laying against the wall unconscious. He was littered in cuts, specifically his shoulder which was bleeding out. A special grade curse, Jogo, stood over him, a finger in his hand as he slipped it down the pink haired boy's throat and tilted his head back. She recognized him from the time he fought Gojo, as her eyes lingered over Itadori's figure.

(Y/N) could see the markings on his face.

She thought she might throw up.

"Don't waste my time," the special grade squinted is eyes at the three of them.

He went to lift up his arm and attack, only for it to begin bleeding out in front of him.

"I'll give you one second."

It felt like everything had frozen in place.

Silence in the dark hallway.

"Move."

The special grade fearfully jumped back, now a line of four.

(Y/N) felt her hands tremble, as sweat formed across her forehead and her heartbeat picked up in her ears. They were all that way, as the figure slowly stood up and brushed himself off.

Strength of a different kind than Satoru Gojo.

Overwhelmingly evil.

Fear that even the slightest move could lead to death.

He began to come towards them, as the wounds across his body healed themselves.

As his footsteps grew louder, she felt as if she might pass out.

Then they stopped, and he brushed his hair back in orderly fashion.

"You hold your heads quite high."

That voice.

It felt like there were invisible hands that wrapped around her back, guiding her down to a bowing position without control over her own body. She ended up in the same formation as the other two girls, as a wave brushed over top of the four that would have killed them.

"Did you believe taking one knee was enough?" Sukuna questioned.

The top of Jogo's head was cut off, considering he only kneeled. It was similar to a volcano, purple blood spewing out the top as he bled out.

"The greatest men bow the lowest, or so it goes. I see you value your heads quite lightly."

She could feel him looking down at her, as she stared at the cold floor and begged that whatever this was wasn't real.

She was terrified.

"You brats, I'll start with you," he said. "You wished to speak to me, yes?"

The girl nodded, tears staining the concrete surface below her.

"I'll grant you a fingers worth of audience. Now speak."

"Below us there's a man in monk's robes with a suture across his forehead," the dirty blonde began to say. "Please kill him, please free Geto-sama."

(Y/N) recognized that name, although she thought the man who had it was dead.

"We know the location of one more finger," the girl added. "If you'll kill that man for us, we'll tell you where it is."

"Raise your heads."

(Y/N) still kept hers down, although she could see the two girls raise theirs through her peripheral. It was a moment of relief, as he seemed to have agreed to their terms.

Red.

The head of the brown haired one next to her burst into nothingness, blood coating the other girls face as her corpse fell backward.

(Y/N) felt it splatter onto her uniform, shock pulsating through her veins as terror overrided her senses.

"MIMIKO!" the blonde screamed, shaking the lifeless body next to her.

"Did you think a measly one or two fingers would grant you the right to order me around?" Sukuna asked with amusement in his voice.

It seemed the girl couldn't care less, continuing to scream out her friends name.

"How offensive."

"SUKUNA!" she cried out in anger, slipping out her phone. "DIE!"

As soon as the words left her mouth, it sounded like a blade had cut through something. Similar to the one she heard months ago, when he had saved her.

Then, it sounded like several cuts going at someone at once.

One corpse turned into two, except the blonde had no remains. He killed the both of them without lifting a finger, a copious amount of blood being the only proof.

"You all are desperate," Sukuna turned to Jogo almost knowingly.

(Y/N) felt the invisible hands that once held onto her gently guide her to sit up again, looking at the King of Curses.

"This is the reward for the cursed fingers, come at her," he said, making eye contact with her. "If you manage to land even a single blow on her, I'll work under you all."

"What?" (Y/N) said under her breath, she felt like she couldn't breath.

Jogo slowly looked at her, as if he was making up his mind.

There was no way he was considering this.

"You're true to your word, yes?" he asked Sukuna.

No.

(Y/N) stepped back, like her legs were going to come out from under her at any second.

This was suicide, she couldn't fight him.

"Yes."

Jogos demeaner changed, as Sukuna's hands remained on his pockets and the curse went to face her. He held out his hand, a ball of fire forming within it, as (Y/N) tried to conjure ice in her own.

Again she was airborne.

Too quick for her to react as it all happened at once.

A familiar pair of arms held her bridal style, as she felt herself rest on his chest. It was cold, the fall wind curling around the two as they had fled the building.

He casually dodged them vast amount of fire-charged bullets being sent at him, as he looked down at her.

"Your avoidance has been quite amusing, I see you don't understand yet," Sukuna said, his tone changing into a softer one.

"What have you been doing to me?" she spoke boldly, like a wife would to her husband.

It made him smile, as he leaned on the edge of a building that Jogo shot more bullets at. Soon enough they were inside of it, Sukuna casually walking through a corridor as fire burned around them.

"That's my thank you for ensuring you sleep well?" he spoke teasingly. "I've been restoring your memories, although I knew you would doubt them to the best of your ability."

"They're not real," she mumbled, forgetting what he was capable of.

"And yet how relaxed you are in my hold says otherwise, little one," he said. "Your body reacts naturally to my touch."

(Y/N) opened her mouth to reply but the words never came out, as he jumped through the window of the building and met Jogo's fist. Sukuna was currently holding her securely with one arm, taking up the curse in hand to hand combat. He was quick, catching every single one of Jogo's attempts before holding onto his hand and slicing through his arms with his cleave technique.

The Special Grade was sent flying back, as he shot another beam of fire energy out of his head and (Y/N) watched it blow a whole through a building.

She had never seen a fight like this before.

Sukuna caught up with Jogo, taking his free hand that wasn't carrying her and wrapping it around his cape, throwing him down towards the streets. Smoke emitted from the area that he hit, as he continued to bounce off of it from the force before Sukuna came at him again. This time, he bashed his head into the ground, taking them below the level of the city floor.

She felt the King of Curses abdomen tighten against her side, as he laughed to himself. (Y/N) wasn't looking at him though, as her eyes were on the curse that hadn't landed even a single speck of dust on her.

His free hand slipped underneath her jaw, turning her head to face him.

"Impressed are we?"

Suddenly everything around the two seemed to burst into flames, as the blue skinned curse screamed out and flooded the street with Lava.

This was hell.

Sukuna didn't even react, as a wave of it blanketed over them, yet never touching their skin. He jumped up onto a building that was soon crumbling underneath the hot liquid as well, continuing to dodge without question.

The entire city was on fire, as hands made out of lava held onto two office buildings and lifted them up out of the ground. They surrounded the both of them, Jogo standing on a rooftop in front.

(Y/N) thought she was dead.

Out of pure instinct she took her arm around Sukuna's neck, burying her head into his chest and squinting her eyes closed.

It was only when she heard the sound of the buildings being bashed together, that she realized what she had done. Instead of feeling the impact of her skull being crushed, she felt a delicate kiss be pressed to the top of her head. A large hand then held her hair in a comforting manner, keeping her against him.

"Do you trust me, little one?" he asked her softly, low enough that Jogo couldn't hear.

"Yes."

(Y/N) felt weightless, like she was on one of those amusement park rides that threw you up into the air. Except for the fact that there was no harness, and nothing holding her anymore. Sukuna had thrown her up so far she felt she might touch the clouds, watching his figure dart towards the curse and throw him into a sky scraper.

She could see Jogo come out the other end of it, soaring through the air as Sukuna stood above him. The King of Curses drove his hand into the Special Grades head, sending the two through a roof of another office structure.

Meanwhile (Y/N) began to descend, screaming out and watching as the windows on each level shattered with each level Sukuna shoved him through. She grew anxious as time passed and nothing happened, until the bottom of the building burst out into flames and traveled upwards. She could make out the smaller details of the city now, as she picked up speed in falling and felt the wind course through her clothes. Her best bet was trying to use her ice to impact the fall, although she became distracted by what happened before her.

The building that Jogo had blown up began to form into a ball of fire, and Sukuna was nowhere to be seen.

Or so she thought.

She was trying to conjure up enough cold air around her to form the ice needed to brace her, but knocked into something else, throwing her off guard.

She wasn't surprised when she felt his heartbeat against her side again, but he moved at unregistrable speeds.

Suddenly they were on the ground, in the middle of the street, underneath the meteor Jogo was creating. All of the people around Sukuna froze in place, fear evident in their eyes.

Everyone knew who he was.

"I hereby forbid every person in a 100-meter radius from moving until I say 'now," he started. "And of course, I'll kill anyone who violates that rule."

The silence was horrifying, no one daring to take a step.

"Not yet," he teased.

(Y/N) could feel his hands underneath her weight doing something, as if he was now controlling the ball of fire above them.

"Still not yet."

The ground began to tremble, as it came closer.

"Now."

The sound was overwhelming, as Sukuna brought himself up above it as it crushed everything beneath. He sat down on the meteor, adjusting (Y/N) so she was sitting in his lap, his hands around her waist. Jogo was in front of the two, having yet to turn his back around.

The atmosphere around them was a swirl of orange smoke and broken glass that looked like stars. It floated gently in the air, as more debris from the architecture around them crumbled.

"I've grown tired of this, so I will fight you with your own specialty," he said, allowing for (Y/N) to get up as he stood and faced the Special Grade.

She stepped back, quick to cool the temperatures underneath her feet so she wouldn't burn.

Fire began to emit from his fist, beginning to curl around his figure.

"Arm yourself."

Jogo formed a small sphere of fire in his hand, as Sukuna stretched his own out to form an arrow.

The Special Grade burnt to ashes within a moments notice, while the King of Curses turned around to face the woman behind him.

"Your denial is in vain," he said. "There is nothing I am not capable of, and your death would have already occurred if i wished for it. In your moments of fear you trusted me by instinct, the vow formed between us guiding you to me."

"I don't understand."

"Because you don't want to," he corrected, coming closer to her. "Allow me to show you."

The king lifted her jaw up, taking his hand around the side of her face and kissing her lips.

It felt unworldly, as she slowly returned it and could feel him smiling. Her wrist suddenly tingled, making her to break away to see what caused the sensation.

It was a mark on her wrist, the same one that was on Sukuna's forehead.

"I will love you in every era," he said, taking a step back.

The markings on his face faded, his hair returning to hanging down.

"What happened?" Itadori asked.

She looked into the eyes underneath the original pair, not knowing what to say.

But she understood now.

A/N: I have a part 3 in mind. If you're interested let me know!

Tag List: @daydreamshenanigans @witchmoon10 @@spiderlilytengu @sircatchungus @sunshine7queen @yandere-consumer @emryb @96jnie @frogzxch @toshirolovebot @rottinginvelvet @rorel1a @cax-per @butteredwalnut @sweetcoorpse @mynewblackdress @serafina-nyx @karmazwrld @gambighoul @honestlysublimecherryblossom @sy557 @mag-chan

[trashogram]

He Chose You (Pt. 13)

Lucifer/Reader: Lucifer chooses you to be the mother of his child. Rated E for Explicit.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 13.5 | Part 14 | End

“This is just a dream.” Your words came out in a tangled string, altogether as air being forced out of a balloon. You partially sagged as well, instinctively locked muscles loosening again after you’d realize there was another person next to you on the beach. 

She was beautiful, as always, with long silver-blonde hair  and violet eyes cut into a soft face. You froze for the briefest instant at the fact that her tall, Amazonian body was clothed, but dreams never followed the rules. 

With your arms out wide, you reached for the woman that had appeared beside you on the beach. “Right? Is it just a dream? L… like the ones before?”

You wanted it to be true. The swell of hope rose within you like the tide at your feet, but it was tainted by something that shook you and made your heart race.

The truth was like oil leaking through and into your bloodstream, sticking to your veins until it couldn’t be ignored any longer. Until it made you feel sick and trapped inside your own skin. 

“Right?”

The serene expression on Eve’s face gave way and rendered her heartache. She looked at you with violet eyes gone glassy for a long, long moment. 

Eve shook her head slowly. “No.”

—

The realm-traversing portal opened up amidst rolling clouds without much fanfare. Lucifer’s eyes snapped shut as he was accosted by piercing white light on all sides when he stepped out of it. 

“Ugh.” The blond blinked rapidly, trying in vain to adjust to the shift from dark red to blinding light. “It’s like crashing into the sun...” 

Heaven’s gates came into focus. 

“… while it’s going supernova.” Lucifer finished, muttering as he took a moment to shake out his sleeves. 

He stayed in place, readjusting his clothes while his wings folded back behind him. Heaven loomed on the horizon, only a short walk away. A fact that was eroding the King’s resolve with each passing moment.

Lucifer swallowed, straightening his bow tie. 

He wanted to turn back. 

It had been many millennia since he’d stepped foot anywhere near what was once his home; and in spite of the time and the distance, Lucifer could feel dread creeping up on him. The memory of being pushed and plummeting down, down, down into fire and brimstone came to him as if it had happened yesterday. 

Lucifer glanced down, anticipating the rise of molten rock and plumes of smoke as he headed straight into the Earth’s core. 

He was still standing, hands shaking so hard that his apple cane was tapping against the slow yet merrily rolling clouds. 

      The former angel closed his eyes again, inhaling deeply to steel himself. 

This was for you. He needed to know that you were exactly where you were supposed to be. 

This was for you. 

He’d do anything for you. 

Another breath. Lucifer stepped out from behind the clouds and onto the golden path that led to you. Just a few feet away and the blond tried to keep his eyes level with the gate itself, purposefully avoiding the all-knowing symbol above. 

A very bored-looking angel was flicking through the pages of what Lucifer assumed to be a reservation list. He couldn’t quite put a name to the face, as unless St. Peter had dyed his hair and grown a good deal of scruff on his chin, this was someone totally new to the gig. 

      Lucifer grimaced, wondering if this was a boon or not. 

“Excuse me!” Lucifer called up. 

“Ah!” The angel squawked. “Oh! Shi-I mean—!”

He fumbled with the book, accidentally crumpling a page mid-flick. Lucifer waited, tapping his foot nervously while the gatekeeper pulled himself together. 

       Finally, he smacked both hands against the book, using it as leverage to lean over and get a better look at the new arrival. 

“My apologies! Welcome to He-H…” Pupils shrunk to mere pinpricks within the angel’s eyes upon catching sight of the newest ‘arrival’. 

‘Oh fuck, okay.’ Lucifer lamented, posture sinking as he readied himself for a shitstorm. 

       His wings stretched out once more, and Lucifer glided up as stealthily as possible. The angel reeled back upon his approach, horror-struck, while the blond met him face-to-face.

“Yes! Hello there Mmmm—”” Lucifer squinted at the name tag pinned to the angel’s chest. “Matthias! Wonderful to meet you! Unless we’ve met before, in which case I apologize! It’s been quite a while since I’ve been up rather than down. Heh.”

Matthias continued to stare, jaw practically hanging off his face. “Y-you—you’re-!”

Lucifer’s smile waned like a melting candle. He drummed his fingers against the table top and cleared his throat. 

“Right.” Lucifer continued. “So, anyway, I’m here just to say ‘hi’ to a very special someone, and I would be eternally grateful if you could help me out with that.” 

He waited a full minute, watching Matthias shake like a leaf. It left Lucifer torn between irritation and anxiety. 

“Look, I’m not here to make waves.” He tried again. “I’ve done that enough for an immortal lifetime! And you know that, clearly.”

He chuckled, pulling at his collar. “I’m not asking for much. If anything, I’m actually doing my due diligence as far as Heaven is concerned and what’s that you got there? Is that a flip phone? Didn’t know they made those anymore. Who’re you dialin-”

“PETER!” Matthias screeched into the dated device. Lucifer’s whole body flinched at the sheer volume. 

“Wait, no, no, no!” Lucifer panicked, arms flapping to regain Matthias’s attention. 

Matthias continued to rear back until he’d fallen off the podium, and he barely managed to remember his own wings before hitting the ground. 

“Peter!” He cried. “Come back! We have a situation here!”

“No we don’t!” Lucifer tried to butt in. “He’s being ridiculous Peter. Don’t listen to him!”

“You need to get back here now! No, now!” Matthias snapped the phone shut and kept aloft a good distance from the King of Hell. 

He then made the sign of the cross, of all things. 

“Stay back!” The angel yelped. “I’m warning you I-I-I’ve been abstinent for over a hundred years and it didn’t break me! Neither will you, foul Tempter!” 

Lucifer stopped, lips peeling back as if he’d just sucked a lemon. 

“Okay, I didn’t need to know that.” Lucifer said, floating closer. “Look, maybe you didn’t get what I was saying, I’m just—”

“I said stay back!” 

Lucifer groaned, running a hand down his face. “Fuck me for thinking Heaven learned to listen.”

—

You felt lighter as you made your way back into the cityscape of Heaven, although your heart was truly aching. 

     There was no use in staying hidden in the trees, but as you crossed back into the modernized version of paradise, you vowed to return. Unless Eve herself decided to make another reappearance and join the rest of her angelic peers. 

Speaking of which…

Wandering had led you back to the center of the town, and you noticed that it lacked an angel or two… hundred. 

“Where is everyone?” You asked the empty air. Not a soul stirred at your inquiry, but you stared at the cafe on your left. 

     The majority of cafe tables hadn’t been bussed. You peered at the plates of half-eaten pastries and teacups, noting that more than one was still full and steaming. 

“There you are!”

 The unmistakable voice of Emily put a stopper in your confusion. “Where have you been? I was so worried!”

The holy woman hovered before you, unable to stay still as her wings beat against the air frantically. You frowned.

“Hey Emily.” You responded slowly, your brain still picking up the inconsistencies. “Do you know where everyone is?”

The angel shook her head, staggering you as she instantly took your arm and plucked you from the ground like a flower. 

“Woah! Hold on, wait a second!” You choked on your own saliva in surprise. You struggled to pry her delicate hands off of you as you were dragged through the air. “Emily! What’re you doing?”

“You have to come quickly!” Emily exclaimed. 

“Let me go!” You demanded.

You gawked when she just sped up. Emily raced through the empty town center with you dangling behind her, until she had taken you out into the open air. The gate into Heaven rose above all else as you fast approached it. 

—

A crowd had amassed from the city pavilion to stand and watch, aghast at the scene before them. Some cowered in their places while others edged closer to whatever was happening on the other side of the gate. 

     People were still floating in as Emily rocketed toward the front. You had no choice but to follow her lead, windswept hair falling in your eyes and mouth. You spat as you were planted on solid foundation again, and jostled forward by a no less overwrought Emily. 

You parted your hair like curtains, expression already screwed up and twisted in anger. You looked up and over your shoulder at the angel nervously chewing on her lower lip. 

“Excuse my language but what the hell is going on?” You bit out. Ugh, hair still caught on your tongue. 

Emily didn’t deign to give you any answers beyond a hand raised, finger pointing ahead. Her gesture made you scoff, though you let your curiosity get the better of you. 

      The last thing you expected to see was a squad of angels in pastel blues and whites, brandishing technological spears at Lucifer fucking Morningstar. 

“Please, everyone, there’s absolutely no need for any of this!” Lucifer’s tone was an odd mix of disarming and pacifying. 

He was bowed over, arms held out in a bid for calm. It was only met with more hostility, as several of the spears pointed at him sizzled with visible electricity. 

“Spare us your lies, Serpent. And be gone.” One of the aggressors spoke, sporting a remarkably deep voice despite his youthful appearance. A chorus sounded behind the creature, shouts of ‘be gone’ and ‘back to hell’ resounding until the pounding of your heart drowned it all out. 

Your breath came up fast and shallow, the capacity to rationalize long gone at the sight of the Devil.         

     You’d just accepted the loss of him, had exposed the wound he had left behind in your soul to the open air and grieved the lesson it taught you. Death had parted you both and you had been preparing to accept it, no alternative left to contemplate. 

“Lou...”

Mouth open, you tried to formulate your thoughts into words. You were coming up short, voice cracking and striped like a dying animal. 

“Lucifer.” 

You went ramrod straight, electricity enveloping your sight. He staggered.

“LUCIFER!” 

Pain lanced through him, but Lucifer only had eyes for you. You, calling his name and racing forward to grapple with the bars of Heaven’s gate. You, beautiful and glowing and real again. 

The King stood up, gripping the spear that had made contact with him only moment’s ago and throwing it off. Gabriel fell to the wayside like a swatted fly, his squad of soldiers swarming around to try and right him. 

They might as well have ceased to exist as Lucifer moved toward you. Heaven ceased to exist altogether, as soon he was close enough to take your outstretched hands. 

“You’re here.” 

***

Tag List: @crescent-z, @for-hearthand-home, @undertale-is-sansational, @loslox, @navierkalani, @yaimlight, @ivoryviness, @crystalplays28, @flowerempress, @wally-darling-hyperfixation, @altruisticradiodemon, @moonlight-readings, @halparkebitch, @charliecharlie65, @sockgoblin, @cocomollo, @caniseethefourthsword, @squeegeeclean, @crow-twink, @an-emovision, @marydragneell, @lafy-taffy, @fandom-imagines1, @loquacious-libra, @glowymxxn, @avadakadabra93, @froggybich, @hamthepan, @ukor02, @adaizel, @boogiemansbitch, @vinillies, @lbcreations-blog, @thesoundresoundsecho, @serenity-loves-red, @alientee, @aquaamythest96, @0strawberrysorbet0, @fluffy-koalala, @washeduphazbin, @rebecca-hvnstn, @velvette3, @kermitdafroggy, @wpdarlingpan, @apatcheworkofproblems, @cherry-cola-100, @pink-apples001, @al-of-the-stars, @backinthefkingbuildingagain, @martinys-world, @alastorssimp, @wobblesthewaffle, @shikiribee, @undertale-anomaly20, @asakura-fangirl-stuff, @ringsofpersonti @angelicwillows, @wingoodlilboymyway, @cimadreamer, @museofzealoushope, @oneiric-rotaerc, @call-me-nyxx, @darling-angel222, @elementwind91, @bloody-delusion-expert, @devilslittlebabyxx, @diffidentphantom, @shamblezzz, @ranposanedogawa, @minamilinaqueen, @1-helluva-hazbin

[yzzart]

— 𝐈'𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐲𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐱 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You wouldn't leave Satoru facing a cold night alone.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Fluff, drabble, words a little explicit, comfort, mention of riko, kuroi and geto, a drop of angst, inspired by episode 3

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.780!

The cold, sharp, hard feel of the smooth floor surged through your feet; and mentally you berated yourself for not wearing your slippers, which were probably lying around the room.

A smug expression formed on your slightly sleeping face, and you nearly caught yourself in a groan. — But, in no way, would you go back to get them, after all, it's a crude and useless thing to gain your focus.

And, also, there was something far more important to focus your attention and dedication on.

With the vision, totally, heavy and sleepy, you started to direct yourself to the presence that was before and centered in your eyes. — It wasn't pitch black, or too dark for so much exaggeration; the light of the moon, which was on its full days, illuminated the calm, subtle and pleasant environment.

"You should be sleeping." — The heavy voice, in charge of tiredness, but denying itself in such a way, exclaimed in the place and in his ears. — And you would be lying, coldly, if you didn't claim that a shiver ran through your body.

At no time, or under any circumstances, did he need to turn or direct his eyes, in a fine way, to recognize you or observe your appearance; that's because he didn't need to. — The young sorcerer felt your presence, the moment you put your feet on the ground, in the same second.

"Satoru..." — Your voice came out weak, influenced by the sleep interrupted a while ago and not being able to hide the concern landing, perfectly, in the ears of the oldest.

His name was the only thing that came out of your mouth at that moment; and it was the only thing on your mind. — Satoru was awake, in a cold and full dawn, and it wasn't the first time he did that. — And it wouldn't be the last.

That not only worried you, it also bothered you; You felt your chest heave when you looked into his tired, overworked blue eyes. — At certain points, dark circles formed in the region close to his eyes and, with the luck of his glasses, which he made a point of hiding.

It was obvious that Kuroi and Riko could find something strange or question something, since that pair of glasses was a living part of Gojo; however, you and Geto knew what was actually happening.

Geto ended up, on his own, unraveling what was happening with Gojo in recent time; but, to be more specific, the young black-haired sorcerer put all the factors together today. — It was not difficult to listen to their conversation, which was brief, during the morning.

You hate the mediocre fact that you've snooped on someone's conversation. — Even more so when admitting such an act.

You moved your feet and walked towards Gojo's image; it seemed like with every step you took, a chilling shock coursed through your body. — You knew whether it was the cold feeling of the ground or Satoru's presence.

The answer was clear, direct and obvious. — It was him.

"Hmm?" — The white-haired boy, who was wearing an oddly flashy orange coat, grumbled when he saw you approaching. — He still kept the same clothes he spent the whole morning wearing, nothing changed; he didn't even close his coat against the winds.

However, his face was completely heavy, tired; along with his blank stare, but on the alert for everything, even a fly. — Satoru didn't know what it was to blink at that exact moment; he didn't know what it was, at least, to rest.

It wasn't the first time, let alone the last, that he would do this. — And you both know it.

"…and you should be there with me." — You replied, with a little rigor, with your repression and trying to stifle a yawn, but soon failing miserably. — "It's strange not to feel you trying to steal the blankets." — A clumsy, sleepy confession, however, causes a small, subtle laugh to escape Satoru's lips.

It wasn't just weird, it was more than that; it was something that I still didn't have the name in the language. — Discomfort? Affliction? Fear? Anguish? — You felt all of that at once.

"So is that a way of saying you can't sleep without me, my love?" — Gojo tried to soften the situation, at least a little. His voice was haggard, without much enthusiasm and charisma, which was rare to see in Satoru.

The blue eyes, which recall the sky and ward off any problems that haunted his mind, heavy but obliged to be aware of everything around, landed in your presence; who was now ahead of Gojo. — His glasses were a little droopy, so you finally get to see his bluish eye sockets.

"Understand it however you like." — A genuine smile, and a little shy, formed on your lips. — Satoru wasn't lying, or talking one more of his nonsense as usual; those words were indeed worthy of a truth.

A truth that also revealed one of his worst and greatest fears; not feel Gojo's presence next to your. — Not feeling the feel of his big body against your, not feeling his hands around you, not even feeling your legs pinning his to keep from getting off the bed. — Only, not feeling Satoru with you.

Perhaps, that might sound more selfish than it sounds; even more so because you are a jujutsu sorceress. — Along with the mission and oath to protect the weakest and those unaware of curses. — But, it was suffocating, a bit of torture, watching and witnessing all the cursed factors going on around you and knowing that you could be on the verge of failing everything and losing everything.

However, it is clear that in the jujutsu world one cannot get one's hopes up. — And that's something you haven't learned to deal with yet.

"We'll leave in the morning, i think you better go back to your room, little lady." — Satoru uttered with responsibility and reason, which was something he had at that moment; a very rare occasion. — "I don't want to hear your mumbling or having to carry you the whole way." — He raised one of his hands to his chin, as if he was thinking of something promising. — "Although i wouldn't complain, huh?"

"Eh? Shut up, idiot…" — You replied, unable to contain or interrupt a light and at the same time warm laugh.

Noticing that there was space left on the small sofa, where Satoru was sitting, you pass by the young man and don't wait or think twice, so you take comfort in the seat. — It wasn't as comfortable and fluffy, of course, as the bed in the room where you were staying, but it was better than standing all that time.

Suddenly, a cold but pleasant breeze, carrying the strong smell of the sea, passed by you. — You've never seen a night as cold as this one. — And, automatically, he put his legs together in the intention of trying to warm up and not go through those freezing seconds. — Maybe you were exaggerating, just maybe.

You took a deep breath, and prayed, mentally, that the night would pass quickly. — And finally, you guys go back to jujutsu school. — Your eyes tried to search, observe and admire something during that time to distract himself, intending to distance your thoughts about the present occurrences.

A surprising yawn escapes your lips, once again that night, and you feel your eyes getting heavier and heavier, unable to force them open but stubborn against it and trying, hard, to stay awake. — You didn't want to leave Gojo alone until dawn.

In a flash, you let your head rest on the tip of Satoru's shoulder; and with the fluffy and soft fabric of your coat, it doesn't make the situation so uncomfortable. — The word "discomfort" disappeared, bravely, from the world and from your mouth when he was close to Satoru. — It was as if all the curses, evils and badness in the world disappeared when his heavenly eyes met your or just saw his shadow.

Satoru was your home. — Where it made you feel safe and protected and loved.

And in such a comfortable and cozy situation, sleep, which had been accumulating for all that time, eventually caught up with you. — Your body relaxed, even though it wasn't in an appropriate position and that can cause certain pains in the morning, and all the thoughts that disturbed you so much had a chance to disappear.

Satoru wasn't scared, or bothered, of course, he would never bother with you or with any miserable thing you did; the sorcerer smiled. — But, it wasn't a common smile or the kind he lived in stamped on his face; it was a passionate smile, fascinated and alive. — A smile with a meaning he understood from the day you met.

Beneath his typical dark glasses, Satoru admired you with mixed feelings, but the feeling of passion struggled in the older man's chest; if he had the chance to steer you away from all the evil non-wizard and sorcerer reasons, he wouldn't think twice. — You were strong, he wouldn't deny that even if he had to walk over burning coals. But he cared about you, just like you cared about him.

Even though he didn't believe so faithfully in the talks and speeches about destiny, Satoru begged for the future not to be so heavy on you two. — He couldn't get his hopes up, that's what the jujutsu school insisted on, but Satoru was never one to follow rules or teachings.

With a slow movement, trying his best not to wake you, Satoru directed his large and thin hand in yours and, thus, holding it. — The size comparison between your hand and his always caught Gojo's attention. — Thin, cold and a little rough fingers began to intertwine with yours; Satoru, with just his thumb, made small, circular movements in the palm of your hand.

During his admiration, Gojo began to feel a grip on his hand and, soon, he understood that it was you. — You squeezed, lightly, Satoru's hand, as if you were dreaming or just instinct for the feeling, even not knowing what it was, in fact, he increased the smile that kept on his face.

"My angel." — He whispered, more to himself than to you; soon, Satoru directed his hand, which he was holding, to your thin and affectionate lips and leaving a lingering kiss under the soft and slightly warm region.

Only the gods, if they actually existed, knew how he wanted that moment to last forever. — Satoru would do anything, kill anything or anyone to keep that moment so intimate, so naive and cozy with you forever.

"My beautiful angel."

[sigh-tofm]

if you’re a gym rat… (some 18+)

… price

- gets back into it. has always had a certain level of physique he’s had to keep up being in the army, but he isn’t the young sergeant he once was anymore. still, he usually jogs twice a week and lifts some weights when time allows.

- that is, until you start pulling him along. early morning leg sessions with the sunrise and lighthearted planking contests during the footie halftime. equally enjoys getting back into the workout game, spending time with you and getting to look at your body in the tight gym wear. especially loves the the soft pudge at the bottom of your stomach and the way all of you jiggle when you do burpees.

- showers with you after the fact. long, steamy showers in each other’s arms. no sex in there (you’re both sore and the floor is slippery), but it’s not necessary. you’re content with the hot water massaging your spent muscles and the feeling of your solid lover around you.

… kyle

- hypes you up. already spends more time in the gym than you do, so he knows every exercise and machine in and out. eagerly teaches you everything and anything you ask him about. never lets anyone else spot you, always does it himself. especially likes spotting your squats.

- follows your pace, whether that means exhausting himself for you or slowing down for you. will join you on hill sprints and long distance runs, but is thankful he gets to hold the stop watch and blow the whistle when you do beep tests.

- thinks the act of exercising together can be as intimate as sex itself. getting to observe and explore each other bodies, each other’s strengths and weaknesses. half of it is a mental game and not too unlike kink, he thinks, as you groan and contort your face while pushing your feet into to ground, tensing your muscles into the belt to help with the deadlift. he nods approvingly when you straighten your back and breath out at the top of the lift. ‘one more for me, baby.’

… johnny

- eggs you on. like kyle, always helps you go harder, faster, longer, but does it by way of teasing. ‘that all, then? come oan, ye had more in ye last night.’ always toes the line between encouraging and infuriating, but to his credit he also tricks you into lifting the bar one more time instead of putting it down.

- jogs become races and walks become dogwalks. johnny is restless even if you’re both coming straight from an intense hiit-session. if you’ve decided on a leisurely pace, johnny will run ahead and circle back, take detours to look at interesting buildings and natural features, and constantly weave left and right on the path ahead or behind you, like a border collie.

- does not mind the sweat after a session. will eat you out in the parking lot until the car windows fog up. eventually pulls your panties back up and pat your belly over them, only to drive back home and do it all over again in the shower.

… ghost

- never leaves you. you’d think he keeps up a pretty strict routine with that pure strength he possesses, but he will drop anything if you suggest going hiking or practice a specific form. nothing is too boring, basic or easy if he’s doing it with you. that includes yoga, where you are actually leagues ahead of him in balance and flexibility. the only thing he has going for him is his sniper’s patience.

- effortlessly lifts the bar up when spotting your bench presses and you hit failure. leans down over the bar to kiss your nose while you catch your breath. ‘look at tha’. i’ll take ten kilos off, let’s end this on a high note.’ won’t hear your protests about how that’s not how it’s done, and make you do another rep with less weight, to keep the muscle memory of perfect form.

- ends each session with you practicing grip, which is something you both need to work on, you’ll hang face to face on the power rack and simultaneously try not to laugh while also gripping the bar for as long as you can. having an excuse to look you dead in the eyes is simon’s favourite part of each session.

[hunterwritings]

𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐃 | 𝐁𝐈-𝐇𝐀𝐍

summary: bi-han comes home wounded, trying his best to keep it from you warnings: mention of blood/laceration, stitching notes: i can only think of writing for bi-han rn 😭

You knew that Bi-han was hot-headed, ironically. You knew that he liked to fight and even though he would most likely win, he would still have battle scars.

It was something you expected, but never looked forward to. Bi-han has a problem being vulnerable and asking for help, so whenever he would get injured in battle he would do his best to hide it from you. Sometimes he'd get away with it and you'd eventually find out after the fact, but sometimes he's a bad liar.

It was the middle of the night when Bi-han stumbled into the temple, his brothers at his side. "Please brother, let us-" Tomas began before Bi-han shut him down. "I can deal with my own wounds." He beckons as he pushes them off and begins walking to your bedroom, holding a hand at his side. "He will be fine Tomas, the pain of us helping him would cause more damage than the wound itself." Kuai Liang reassures his younger brother as they turn and return to their own rooms to rest.

A small groan falls from Bi-han's lips as he rips the mask off his face, his teeth grinding together. He swiftly opened the door of your shared bedroom, trying his best to not wake you. As he quietly shuts the door, he turns back to see you sleeping peacefully on your side of the bed. A sigh of relief fell from his mouth at the sight of you, just knowing you were safe was enough to put him at ease.

His eyes darted to the bathroom, thinking that he could make his way there and clean up, while being quiet enough to not wake you. Bi-han would be lying if he said it wasn't difficult with the large wound at his side, but he would rather die than admit that. He took a breath before slowly beginning to walk towards the bathroom, a small wince caught in his teeth as his hand shot to his side.

As if you had super sonic hearing, you tossed in bed and turned your body to face him as your eyes slowly begin to open. Once you saw the shadowy figure in the dark, you quickly sat up. As you realized it was Bi-han, your heart began to relax for a moment. "I didn't think you were going to be so late." You whisper, still half asleep. "We ran into some trouble, it was a quick fight." He bluntly tells you, relieved you weren't able to see his wounded body in the dark. His relief is quickly gone when you reach over and turn on the soft light next to your bed. Your eyes instinctively shut as you held a hand over your eyes and try your best to focus on Bi-han. When your eyes adjust as best they could, you finally noticed the dark red on his blue uniform.

"What happened!?" You ask, now awake and pushing the covers off of your body.

Bi-han just groans before quickly walking into the bathroom. He tries to shut the door on you, but you quickly make your way into the bathroom.

"Are you okay?" You ask with your eyes glued on his wound. "I am fine." He hissed, keeping his gaze away from you. "Clearly not." You said, a bit of anger setting in.

You pushed him back and made him sit down on the edge of the tub. You turned to grab a small bit of bandages and stitching kits from under your counter. You crouched down next to him as he exhaled deeply. His hands reached down and tried to take the needles from you but you pulled your hands away from him.

"Stop." You began to open up the sewing kit. "I can dress my own wounds, go back to sleep." He tries to demand. You look up and give him a sour look before gripping his shirt. "Take it off." You demanded as you pulled up on the upper part of his uniform.

He reluctantly abides, knowing that you are too stubborn to let him do this on his own. Now with his skin exposed, you could see the wound in full. It was a large cut from his upper ribcage down to the side of his lower abdomen. "Bi-han." You breathe out as you touch the skin around the wound, feeling dried blood around it.

"You act as if I am fragile." He snarls, still looking away from you. "I know you are not fragile which is why this is a bit much, but I knw you will be fine." You nod before pouring a bit of alcohol on a rag before dressing his wound. The alcohol on the wound causes Bi-han to wince loudly as he tightly grabs hold of your leg as you stood next to him.

"Do not treat me like a child." He shakes his head, his eyes tightly pressed together. "I am not treating you like a child, I'm treating you like my husband. It is my job to worry about you, to want to help you." You explain, feeling his grip on your leg soften as he finally turns to look at you. "I know you do not want my help even when you need it, but I am always here to provide it. Because I wish for you to be safe and not in pain, just as I hope you'd like that for me." You hold his face in your hands as he looks up at you, his cold demeanor completely faded as soft eyes stare at yours.

"I would freeze the world over to keep you safe."

A soft smile goes across your lips before pressing a sweet kiss to his lips, pulling away and pressing your forehead to his.

Although you interpreted his saying as a metaphor, he meant every single word.

[hughiecampbelle]

The Boys Preference: Having The Same Abilities As Wolverine

Requested: Heyy! Can I request a the boys preference where reader is a supe who pretty much has wolverine's powers? Ty!! - @ghostlyaccurate

Requested: Hii can I request the boys pref x female wolverine? <33 - anon

A/N: Reminder my loves! Everything is written as gender neutral, I don't write specifically freader or mreader. I hope you like it! I am working 100% from Wolverines Wikipedia page lol since I forget most of his powers. Feedback is always appreciated 💜💜💜

Butcher finds your abilities both disgusting and impressive. Your super sight, smell, etc. are really helpful in certain situations. He jokingly calls you their own personal Tek Knight, which you shut down immediately. What's disgusting is when your claws come out, breaking through the skin of your knuckles. There's a lot of blood. There's a lot of pain even with your healing. And something about them just freaks him out. You jokingly try to poke him with them, touch him with them, and though he'd never admit it, he absolutely hates the feeling. There's just something wrong about them that he can't pinpoint or describe. They're helpful for sure and watching you use them is always gory, he'd just like for them to go away as quickly as possible.

Hughie finds you fascinating. The healing and the claws are always cool, but it's the fact that you're so much older than all of them, so much more experienced, and yet you age so little. Because you're body heals so well, you age at a slower rate than the rest of the world. While that's not totally new for Supes, he's always interested in hearing about your life. You have so much knowledge, so many more experiences, so many lives lived before this mess took over. You find it the least interesting part of your abilities, but Hughie's always had an appreciation for the underappreciated. He loves to listen to you talk about the past, what the world was like, what Vought and The Seven were like. It wasn't always this fucked, at least that's the conclusion he comes to as you talk. It was fucked, it was a mess, but the introduction of Homelander really set in stone this future.

Annie is your confidant. The healing factor has saved your and others lives countless times, but everyone forgets you can still feel pain. Long after your body has put itself back together, the phantom pain lingers. It's excruciating and, secretly, you live in fear of being torn apart. Days and weeks later, you move as if you're still broken. You'll wake up, confused for a moment, expecting to be torn limb from limb, before you come to your senses. Even your claws leave your hands raw, arthritic. You know Annie thinks about that more than anyone else. You told her one night about the pain and since then she's always been aware, quietly asking you if you're alright. Sometimes the pain goes away in a few hours, other times it takes weeks. It all depends on the severity. You try not to complain, knowing you must sound like a broken record, but she doesn't see it that way.

M.M., kind of like Butcher, is weirded out by your claws. He doesn't mind the healing or the heightened senses. For the most part, those things are hidden. It's the claws he gets the heebie jeebies from. You poke fun at him because of this. Out of all the Supe abilities you could have gotten, claws aren't the oddest thing you could have developed. He is reminded of Webweavers abilities and that puts things into perspective for a little while. He didn't trust you in the beginning. It was hard to show him you weren't just another Supe hopped up on V. You're a lot older than everyone, you've experienced more, you're wiser than he gives you credit for. He learns to trust you because of your level head. In situations where other people would be losing their shit, you're calm, cool, and collected. It isn't your abilities that make him befriend you, it's the person underneath them.

Frenchie both loves and hates your abilities. He finds your claws fascinating. Every time you use them he's left in awe. He loves watching you use them, the way you can hide them and bring them out when they're least expecting it. He doesn't find them weird or odd like his friends. They're amazing. He hates, though, that your heightened senses are basically a lie detector test he fails every time. You know when he's been drinking, smoking, getting high. You try not to make a big deal about it, but you do talk to him about it in private. You know when he's lying, though any non-Supe could figure it out when they learn all his tells. He's not as good as he thinks he is at lying. He's always amazed with your stamina, too. It's something a lot of people tend to overlook about your powers, but he doesn't.

Kimiko and you bond effortlessly. Your abilities are so similar and yet so different. Together you're a fantastic duo, unstoppable. She likes touching your claws, though hates the way they have to come out. She knows what it's like, to have to sacrifice yourself, your body, for the greater good. She knows what it's like to wake up confused and, for a moment, feeling as if you're missing parts of yourself. The two of you work together effortlessly and find a lot of humor in your abilities whereas everyone else sees a severed limb of broken bones, you can see just how silly the body is, how fragile and easily it both breaks and repairs itself. She loves your heightened senses and always tells her what you can find out: M.M. got a new chapstick (strawberry), Butcher ate something with peppers, Annie got Hughie a new cologne, etc.

[blackdollette]

"got your bible, got your gun." || part five.

꒰ ៹ . "𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀 .𝟑𝟖 𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐒."

tough. - lana del rey + quavo

୨୧˖-ׁ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: practice makes perfect...

꒰ ៹ . ୨୧˖ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: new ! bau ! female ! reader x jealous ! spencer

꒰ ៹ . ୨୧˖ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.3k

꒰ ៹ . ୨୧˖ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: possibly fluffy, somewhat playful banter

ㅤㅤㅤ꒰ ៹ . 🍒 previous chapters: 𝐈 , 𝐈𝐈 , 𝐈𝐈𝐈 , 𝐈𝐕

a couple of months in the analysis unit had been more than enough time for you to prove your glowing ethics and efficiency when covering cases. but how good of an agent were you if you couldn’t even stick a bullet in a cardboard man’s flat head?

“...damnit…” you mutter under your breath, watching as your stray bullet somehow managed to swerve and hit the parchment square in the chest, which would’ve been great if you hadn’t been aiming for his leg.

watching idly from the entrance of the shooting range, spencer felt an amused grin tug at his lips. between the tug that pulled at his heartstrings and the sight of you struggling (your seemingly only flaw), he couldn’t deny the stream of delight and supremacy that surged through his veins. even though he failed his gun qualification not once, not twice, but four times.

but still, the feeling of triumph was like a breath of fresh air after months of constantly being outshone by you.

“no offense, doctor,” he dragged out the last word as usual, never forgetting to sprinkle it with just a trace of disdain, “but it’s pretty clear that you have no clue what you’re doing.”

you sigh, putting your arms to your side and clutching the handgun that sat loosely in your grip. you had heard when he came in and to be honest, you were almost certain that the only reason you couldn’t hit your target was because of the feeling of his hazel eyes obsessively burning holes in your back for the past 30 minutes. 

“laugh it up, doc.” you said dismissively, getting your arms back into position and pointing the gun straight at the shabbily pierced cardboard man. “i’ve almost got it, anyway.”

he sucked in a breath of air through his teeth, hands shoved in his pockets. “not with that posture you don’t.”

you scoffed, rolling your eyes as you pulled back the earmuffs on your head, finally turning back to look at him in all his skinny, nerdy glory. you had never seen anyone pull off such an ugly sweater vest the way he did.

“what’s wrong with my posture, genius?” you placed a hand on your hip, watching his smug demeanor subtly wither away.

he cleared his throat, taking a cautious step forward. “for starters, you’re shoulders are hunched. pull them back a little and maybe you’ll actually hit the target.”

you narrowed your eyes slightly, trying to hide the fact that every single word had tattooed itself in your brain. 

he continued his instructions. “next, keep your feet shoulder-width apart. that’ll help you balance.”

you nodded slowly, visualizing the movements in your head.

“finally, apply pressure with both of your hands. i noticed that you allow your dominant hand to do all the work. try to distribute the tension evenly.”

spencer obviously didn’t mean to openly admit that he had been analyzing you and had only realized his screw-up when he saw a sly grin spread across your face.

“whatever you say, doctor…” you said quietly, facing your target once again and forcing your body into the instructed stance. you stood awkwardly, hands shaking slightly as you held them stiffly in front of you. clearly the boy-genius wasn’t as good of an instructor as he thought.

he cringed slightly, pulling his hands from his pocket as he approached you.

“you look like a marionette with a deranged puppeteer.” he gestured toward your feet pointing awkwardly toward eachother, your shoulders squeezed together, and your shaking arms.

you quickly fixed your posture, standing upright once again. “and who do i have to thank for that?” you asked sarcastically.

spencer held back a little laugh. as much as he found it hard to like you, he couldn’t pretend that he didn’t like the way you quickly snapped back at him and fearlessly put him in his place.

“okay, okay. just… hold still.”

with a few more careful steps he found himself standing directly behind you, using all his might not to rub up against you. he took your arms in his hands, pulling them up until they were angled perfectly with the target.

though this whole scene was undoubtedly inappropriate, you felt an odd sense of security sizzle in your chest.

“...feet shoulder-width apart…” his breath felt warm at the top of your head, leading you to obey him subconsciously. he nodded with approval, letting out a low hum.

“excuse me, reid, but i’m pretty sure if i landed a spot in the BAU, i’m more than capable of shooting a little gun on my own. how hard can it be?”

as you asked that question, he bit back the scientifically proven, and clearly unwanted tidbit of information that threatened to spill from his lips, deciding to say something much less mature, as he held your arms in place.

“has anyone ever told you how hard-headed you are?” he asked matter-of-factly.

you stay quiet, slightly taken aback by the boldness of the question. “no. but there’s a first time for everything, i guess. now am i holding this thing right or not?”

his hands snaked forward until they caressed yours, helping you keep a gentle but firm grip on the weapon. a soft sigh slipped through your lips as the tension in your body released. this was much better.

while you should’ve thanked spencer for the support, you were having a bit too much fun being stubborn. “why’re you helping me out anyway…”

your question caught him off guard. he had been wondering that himself. he didn’t even know why he had stayed in the corner watching you in the first place. but the addictive feeling of finally being better than you at something was too good for him to turn down. 

he sighed, speaking quietly. “i don’t know. i can relate to you, i guess. the gun qualification was the only test that i didn’t ace on the first try.”

you let out a small laugh. even his humility was laced with the fact that he and his all-knowing gray matter could do no wrong.

spencer felt a smile spread across his own lips as well, but a feeling in his gut stopped it from blooming. this temporary moment of paradise had let him to forget what terms you and him were on.

he cleared his throat, his lips inching toward your ear until he finally gave you the signal.

“now pull the trigger. nice and steady, don’t move your arms.”

a deafening bang rang through the room. your eyes instantly slammed shut, your body jerking back into his as you sent the bullet soaring forward. you panted heavily, the wind being knocked out of you from the impact. the thunderous noise was followed by an expecting silence.

“...atta, girl…” spencer whispered, finally encouraging you to open your eyes. a wave of relief surged through your body. you had hit the target head-on, making it the perfect shot.

you stood there, mouth agape as you stared through the hollow space in the center of the man’s head. a genuine smile graced your lips as you turned back, looking at the vestige of the proud expression that rested on his face.

“...thank you, spencer.” you said with formality that he couldn’t help but respect. with a pep in your step that hadn’t been there before you left the range, leaving him alone with his web of thoughts.

on one hand, he had helped a girl that probably had no experience with weaponry in her life. that should’ve given him at least a thread of pleasure, right? but instead, he was filled with the realization that he had just fed his only opponent the last thing she needed to be a fully qualified member of the unit. 

and he had served it to you on a silver platter without you having to lift a finger.

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[thebiggerbear]

So Close

Summary: You meet Colter and Russell at the morgue to help them gain access. Had you known how this was really going to go, you might have pushed Colter's call to voicemail.

Pairing: Russell Shaw x Female!Reader; Russell Shaw x FBI!Female!Reader

A/N: I have zero idea what this is. My muse demanded I type this out after watching the morgue sneak peek scene and at this point, I'm giving her whatever she wants. I have never seen this show, know nothing about the characters and any relationships they may have or their background stories, only vaguely know what the premise is, and I'm waiting to see the episode like everyone else. And yet, the muse still put me to work. She can be so brutal sometimes.

I wouldn't call this speculation for 1x12 because I have no idea what's happened before it yet. Unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine. Full text in italics is dialogue from the morgue scene.

Warnings: mention of dead body; angst

Word Count: 2096

Sequel | Series (please let me know if you would like to be tagged in the series or any future Russell or Tracker works)

Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187; @rieleatiel

Jensen Taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat

This work was recc'ed by @winchestergirl2 here.

You met Colter and Russell Shaw at the morgue, telling them that you were only doing this one small favor and that was it and only for Colter. Colter, as always, understood. Russell, not so much.

The older man turned to look at his younger brother. “I thought you said she’d be a big help to us on this one.”

Before Colter could answer, you narrowed your eyes in Russell’s direction. “I’m putting my job at risk helping you,” you snapped.

And still just as infuriating as ever, he gave you a smile, that teasing gleam in his eye. “It’s good to see you again, Y/N. You are looking…” He worked his fingers into the all-too familiar gesture of approval, giving you a glance over. 

“Go to hell, Shaw.” You spun on your heel and started marching towards the building. “Let’s go,” you barked. “We’re on a timeclock.” 

You never looked back to see if they were following you but you heard Colter mutter not too far behind you, “You mind not pissing her off until after we get to see the body?” 

“Yeah,” Russell quietly agreed, sounding far more serious than he had a moment ago. As a matter of fact, he sounded a little down, which made you wonder what was really going on. You already knew of the strain between the brothers so them working together was odd in itself but Colter hadn’t given you details when he called you and you hadn’t asked for them. You hoped this case they were working had nothing to do with anyone who Russell might… You forced away the thought and renewed your focus on the task at hand. You weren’t here for anything pertaining to that. You needed to keep your mind clear, and your eyes and ears open. 

Once you were all inside, you noticed an older woman sitting at the reception desk. You were about to walk in and pull your badge, ready to lie your ass off and give your official spiel when Russell held a hand up. “I got this,” he assured you both, before waltzing right in. You and Colter exchanged a look before following him.

The woman glanced up briefly and saw you all approaching before going back to her computer. “What can I help you with?”

“Hi, um…” Russell glanced down at her nametag as Colter moved to stand next to his brother, sporting a small smile. “Yolanda. Well, that is—that’s a beautiful name.” You slowly shook your head and crossed your arms. He was seriously going to try to charm his way in? Well, this ought to be fun to watch.

You weren’t surprised when she barely spared him a glance before going back to typing.

And of course, that didn’t deter him one bit. “Sadly, we, uh, we heard about Len Claimans. Recently deceased and, uh, we just need to see the body.”

That caught the woman’s attention as you expected it would. She immediately turned to face him and slipped her eye glasses onto her head. “What for?”

“How do you like working here?” You nearly smirked at the increased pitch in Russell’s voice, betraying his attempt at bullshitting and also a small case of nerves. It was almost as if he’d never lied before. Funny that. 

From Colter’s expression as he watched this trainwreck up close, he had to be thinking along the same lines as you, but more so wondering why this was even being attempted with you standing right there.

“Huh?” Russell continued. “I get a good vibe from you, you know. Kind eyes — helpful eyes, I like that.” You bit your lip to keep from saying something you shouldn’t. Russell had never been what you would call a good flirt, but he certainly was dialing up the charm to try to compensate. 

Too bad the charm didn’t seem to be working. Yolanda’s eyes immediately transferred to Colter. “What’s he talking about?”

Colter shook his head and turned to look at her. “The body might be connected to the disappearance of another man,” he explained. You noticed Russell glancing back at you out of the corner of his eye and you arched an inquisitive brow in his direction which made him immediately focus on Yolanda again, nodding along as his brother talked.

“Oh.” Yolanda looked regretful for a moment before going back to her computer. “I’m sorry, but unless you’re family, I can’t let you back there.”

Knowing this was the point Colter needed your intercession, you began to step forward but immediately froze when Russell snapped his fingers and spoke up. “I didn’t mention.” He gestured between him and Colter, giving Yolanda a smug grin, almost as if he had finally found the ruse that would work. “Cousins.” 

If you could have facepalmed right there without anyone seeing you, you would have. Wow. How was he so bad at this? And why didn’t he just let you do the talking? Or his brother for that matter?

Yolanda huffed out a breath of impatience. She was clearly done with this conversation and quite frankly, so were you.

Russell suddenly leaned forward. “We just-we just need a minute. Or two, you know? I promise we won’t disrupt a thing and then afterwards, maybe, uh, go grab a drink or, uh, somethin’ somethin’.” This time, you did briefly cover your face with your hand. This was just beyond embarrassing. Why did you agree to help these two again?

You could not believe what you were hearing and neither could Colter. You watched as he stared at his older brother before he decided to give it one last ditch effort and played along, turning a strained smile onto the woman.

And as expected, Yolanda finally reached her limit. “No. Sorry.” She got up from her chair and walked away.

Russell let out a disappointed breath. “That was so close.”

“No,” Colter rightfully disagreed.

You’d now reached your limit as well. Stepping forward, you loudly cleared your throat and came to a stop next to Russell. Yolanda turned to look at you, wondering what was coming next from the circus act that had apparently decided to roll into her office this afternoon. You gave her your best professional smile. “Hi there. I’m Special Agent Y/L/N with the FBI.” You slipped out your badge and held it up for her to see before putting it back into your pocket. “My associates here are correct. We’re currently investigating a missing persons case that may be connected to Mr. Claimans’ death. I’m going to need to take a look at the body as well as the autopsy report.”

Yolanda, clearly not believing anything you were selling today, stared over at you, unimpressed. “Do you have a warrant?”

“I can have one sent over to you in the next hour,” you lied. “But right now, we’re on a bit of a timeclock as I’m sure you can imagine.”

She glanced between you three, thinking it over. Russell and Colter looked back and forth between you two.

“Let me see that badge again.”

You grabbed it and handed it to her as she walked over. She studied it and then gave it back to you after a moment. “Ten minutes,” she decided. Both of you ignored Russell’s little smack to the counter and triumphant grin mixed with a quiet “I knew I liked you” in Yolanda’s direction. 

She looked bored. “That’s all I can give you.”

You gave her a nod of gratitude. “That’ll be plenty. Thank you.” 

She nodded and passed next to you to lead the way. You glanced in Colter’s direction and he nodded his thanks. Russell turned to you, his grin all but gone now, the serious tone from before back. “Thank you,” he murmured.

“Sure.” He gave you the beginnings of a grateful smile, his gaze never leaving yours. You could feel yourself being sucked in, almost as if there was a strong magnetic force trying to pull you back in. There was so much going on behind those eyes that looked almost as if they were pleading with you for something — something that you weren’t entirely sure you were ready to give. You were still putting yourself back together, trying to repair the damage that his chaotic whirlwind had caused.

Colter quietly cleared his throat and it shattered the moment, and for that you were grateful. Especially when you noticed Russell had been discreetly moving closer to you. You moved away a bit, making Russell’s jaw tighten and his eyes harden, and started after Yolanda. “We should go,” you told Colter, happy to look upon him once again while you regained your bearings. “We’ve only got ten minutes and I really don’t need an ass chewing from my supervisor because your brother has no game.” 

Colter smirked and followed after you. Russell’s jaw dropped and he appeared alongside you once more, keeping pace with you. “I have game!”

“No, you don’t,” you snorted, keeping your eyes straight ahead, unwilling to look at him.

“Yes, I do. It worked on you once upon a time, didn’t it?”

You leveled a menacing glare on him before turning to look at Colter on your other side. “Why did you ask me to help you again?”

Colter pressed his lips together and decided to keep quiet, focusing on waiting for Yolanda to open the door to the morgue. “I appreciate everything you’re doing.”

Russell leaned closer and murmured to you, “I do, too. And Y/N, after we get out of here, why don’t we go grab that drink I talked about? Just you and me? We can talk and catch up.” You turned your wide eyes onto him. Was he serious? He shot you a charming grin but you could also see the tiny gleam of hope in his gaze.

You ignored the familiar scent of his cologne as it wafted over you and you tamped down the painful memories it induced.

Colter looked like he would rather be anywhere else right then. You wished you were anywhere else right then. You turned your eyes forward, refusing to look at him anymore, not wanting to see any part of his reaction to what you were about to say. “You’re both on a timeclock, remember?” You asked quietly. “After we get what we need, you should go to the spot that's next on your list or immediately chase down any leads. As for me, I have to get back to work.”  You then surged ahead, standing right behind Yolanda and stepping into the room when she opened the door.

After a moment, you heard the brothers enter behind you and Colter muttered to Russell, “You good?”

“Yeah.” You nearly closed your eyes hearing that tone that you were starting to hate once more. “So close.” This time, when he echoed the words from before, there was no false bravado attached to them, no playfulness or humor, only what you detected as regret. 

This time, Colter didn’t say anything in response. Both brothers joined you and you all watched as Yolanda selected a drawer and slid it out. Feeling Russell next to you, you swore to yourself that this would be the last time you would take a call from Colter for a long time. While you liked the younger Shaw, it was the older Shaw you didn’t want to chance running into ever again. 

You stared ahead as Yolanda unzipped the body bag, tensing as you felt the sleeve of Russell’s jacket unintentionally brush against you. So close? Too close.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Russell watching you intently, his expression serious and that regretful look in his eyes once more. You forced your gaze back to the woman reminding you of your ten minute window, refusing to allow any sympathy for the older man on your left. You hadn’t been the one to ruin things between you; you’d only been left to pick up the pieces. You were done feeling sorry for Russell Shaw. 

You took the report Yolanda offered to you before she left and began flipping through it, skimming the text, as Colter took a closer look at the body. From your peripherals, Russell stared at you a moment longer and then moved to stand next to his brother, their backs to you. Sadly, a familiar sight of the man you’d once loved. You blinked away rapidly forming tears and went back to reading.

As much as you hated to admit it, Russell had been right. So close indeed.

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[awkward-tension-art]

Darkness on Umbara Chp.5 (Rex x Reader)

Chapter 4. Chapter 6.

Beginning of the List

cw: Rex x Reader, Reader is a medic, incorrect military procedure, graphic descriptions of injuries, blood, swearing, death and battle, Spoilers for the Umbara Arc, Pong Krell is an asshole, reader insert, Reader gets shot, details of a wound on reader, stress vomiting, reader is gender neutral, no use of (Y/N), if i miss a tag LMK

Minors DNI,

After the Umbarans had attacked again, everyone was exhausted. It was either luck or divine intervention that the 501st managed to fight off the second attack. This time, Krell actually fought alongside the soldiers, since he had been caught between blaster fire. You’d give the Jedi credit, he was lethal with his lightsabers, making quick work of the adversaries in his path.

You still hated him. Many good soldiers had died in the fight because of his half-assed strategy. To make matters worse you and Kix were at your limit trying to keep everyone alive. 

The supplies in your packs were low, and thankfully the speeder had more. But they wouldn’t last forever if Krell kept up his plans the way he was. 

You had just finished patching up your sixth, ARF trooper Steele, when Jesse put a hand to your shoulder, “Doc. you're hurt. Since the retreat on the road.”

The haphazard bandages you put on your arm had fallen off.  After a quick glance to make sure the soldiers that needed medical care weren’t in a dire situation, you finally assessed yourself. 

Lifting your arm in your uninjured hand, your eyes roamed over the damage. 

Direct hit. 

The minimal armor you had on your upper arm was completely scorched. The fabric underneath had offered no protection either, revealing the internal parts of your limb. 

Your bicep and tricep had been destroyed by the shot revealing the humerus. Bone was stained black with the ashes of your muscle. The only reason your arm was still attached was by the melted, burnt remains of the tendons of your shoulder. The lack of movement in your hand was the result of the fact that, along with a majority of blood supply, the nerves had been entirely disintegrated. 

It was almost comical how the true agony of the wound set in as soon as you looked at it. Well, truthfully, you didn’t feel it. The nerves were gone, so the burn itself and all feeling in your wrist and hand was nonexistent. 

However, you felt everything next to the wound. After all, you still had the nerves that functioned in the area of your body right next to the blaster shot. 

White. Hot. Blistering heat. Your entire shoulder throbbed, each pulse sending a wave of agony through you. Your ears were ringing and your head was spinning. You bit your tongue and tasted blood. 

Your jaw locked up, and you couldn’t scream. 

Everything was shaking. Your breathing was heavy. But you didn’t make a sound. Wordlessly, you stepped out of view behind a thick, dark tree and wretched. Bile exited your stomach as you gagged and heaved. Black dotted your vision, muting the bright red limbs of the plants around you.

Jesse, bless him, kept a stabilizing hand on your back, “do you want me to get Rex?” he asked, waiting for you to get yourself together.

You shook your head and dropped your injured arm, using your trembling free hand to inject yourself with painkillers. After a second, you leaned closer to Jesse to speak, voice strained, “Do not draw attention. Do not make a big deal of this. But please get Kix.” 

All attention was on Rex and the surrounding area right now. No one was paying any mind to your situation. You’d prefer to keep it that way.

Jesse nodded and quickly stepped away to get the medic. He wasn’t going to argue with you. 

Your body felt hot and feverish. You leaned against the tree as sweat dotted your skin. It was mere minutes when Jesse returned with Kix. but it felt like hours.

“Hey,” you croaked, sliding down to sit on the ground. 

The medic was kneeling by your side in an instant. He pulled off his helmet and silently used everything at his disposal to try and save your arm. It was clear you’d need more than several tubes of bacta and bandages to recover, but…well, you knew Kix, he’d think of something.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked, fingers becoming stained with the ashes of your upper arm. 

“I didn’t know.” You admitted, “I knew I got shot, I just didn’t know the damage until after the battle.” 

He nodded in understanding. He’s had tunnel vision before. Every soldier has.

You took a sharp breath as your medic friend cut away charred flesh, “I know I won’t die. So I’m gonna close my eyes for a bit, ok?” You nodded to him before addressing Jesse, “Thank you for getting Kix. You can go back to the others.” 

The trooper didn’t seem so certain, “I’ll be close by.”

Once he stepped away, you closed your eyes and rested your head back. The bacta felt cool on the remains of your arm. One eye cracked open, peering at what the medic was doing. He had soaked bandages and patches in bacta, and began to tightly wrap the pieces around your limb. 

Smart. You would have done the same.

“Tell me straight, doc, will I live?” you tried to joke, only to be met with the sound of a helmet hitting the ground. 

Your eyes shot open and you froze, staring directly at Fives. You tried to move, but were quickly stopped by Kix, “I’m not done.” He warned. 

“Listen, Fives. Before you say anything…” you tried to reassure him before the ARC trooper said anything, “Do not tell Rex.” which…sounded very suspicious. As if you had gotten in trouble or caught in a lie. 

It was futile. The two of them were close as hell, it would take a lot of convincing to get him to remain silent. 

“What?!” He nearly shouted, and you desperately tried to shush him, “Why?” 

“He’s going through enough.” You snapped, “I know it looks bad, but I’ve dealt with worse. The men have survived worse themselves.”

“This is different. You’re a field doctor! You warned Krell that you weren’t trained for the front lines with us.” He responded, kneeling next to you, “and he didn’t care. Now look at you!” 

“Both of you, shut up.” Kix snapped, tightening the bacta soaked bandages on the remains of your upper arm. 

You hissed, nerve endings getting irritated by the movement. Luckily the painkillers were strong, and you weren’t put down by the agony you should be in. 

It hurt like a bitch anyway, but you’d manage. 

“Don’t tell Rex.” You looked up at Fives, pleading with him. Fuck pride, your love didn’t need to know you’ve been hurt.

He picked up his helmet, mumbling, “You can’t hide that.” 

Oh, thank all the gods in existence he wasn’t going to tell Rex.

“I won’t. I’ll just…soften the blow.” You attempted to ease your ARC trooper friend. 

“I fucking hate Krell.” He spat before getting his helmet on, “Careless. Reckless. Heartless…”  There was a commotion on the other side of the tree cutting off his insults. “We’re getting ready to move out. Heading the capital.”

“Almost done.” The medic at your side said, helping you get a snug brace on. It was lightly padded, giving protection to the bandages that made up your skin for now. It also had a mechanism that allowed you to move your wrist and hand if need be.

You gave it a few experimental moves. You could close your hand but your fingers weren’t as precise. It would have to be good enough until your arm healed. Fives offered an open palm and you took it before standing, “Thank you, both of you.”

Back to work.

The three of you walked back to the main force. Luckily, Krell didn’t argue when you returned to the speeder. It had gotten much lighter since you and Kix already used nearly half the supplies. As soon as the men started to march you started up the vehicle and stayed at the same pace as everyone else. Despite your exhaustion, after about an hour, you stepped off and gave control to a limping trooper, Dawn, keeping one hand on the side just for stability's sake. 

Looking over the men, there were more injured than healthy now. Tup held his wrist as he walked. Appo had a bandaged thigh. There was a crack on Hardcase’s chestplate that was crusted with dried blood. Two soldiers, Ken and Rin, were laying damn near on top of eachother on the stretcher attached to the speeder. Both had taken severe burns all over their bodies, melting the plastoid to their skin in some areas.

But there were more dead than injured. You’ve been keeping count. Taking notes of the names that died in your arms. 

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Nim. Jamie.

You recited their names in your head. You had to keep track of everyone lost under your care. There were more. Those Kix couldn’t save. Those that died instantly without a chance to survive. Sadly, you knew the list would grow as long as Krell was in charge. Under Anakin, the list of dead wouldn’t even get to be half as long. 

Hopefully the city would fall soon, everyone in the battalion needed a bacta tank and therapy. 

A lot of therapy.

“What happened?” 

Rex.

Your lover had taken you from your thoughts and you snapped back into focus, “Just a graze,” you lied. At this point, you weren’t going to stress him out anymore than he already was. He’s been shouldering the weight of the Jedi's bad decision, and you refused to add to it. 

You gave him a soft smile, hoping to ease his worry, but Rex saw right through your lie. The amount of bandages on your arm and a brace wouldn’t be needed for ‘just a graze’. His shoulders shook with his breath, “Doctor, I need the truth. Your status is important to me,” He caught himself and added on, “and the men of this battalion.” 

Dawn, who was controlling the speeder easily, looked at you, then to Rex then back to you before looking away. He wasn’t going to be a part of whatever was happening next between field doctor and captain. Something you appreciated because you weren’t leaving the side of the vehicle.

With a heavy sigh you shook your head, “Sir, it's a blaster shot. Nothing more, I promise.” 

The two of you had to keep your emotions under professionalism. But…well the moment you and Rex were alone there was definitely going to be a conversation.

“...very well, doctor.” he responded, staring ahead, “just…be careful next time.” His tone indicated that this wasn’t done. When the both of you had privacy, he needed to talk.

You nodded and continued onward. 

That was, until you heard a ‘whoosh’ followed by several explosions to the left of you. 

Another ambush!

Everyone scattered, finding whatever cover they could. You didn’t take the chance to stay, instead, grabbing the trooper on the speeder and stepping on the vehicle. “That way, now!” you snapped, pointing at an opening. The balance was off since you were hanging off the side of the thing, but the soldier did a good enough job driving you and the injured out of the line of fire. 

You grabbed the steering, forcing a sharp turn and stopping behind a large root dotted with glowing red. Poor Dawn nearly fell off after your sudden control, but neither you nor the injured on the stretcher cared. 

This is what you had to do. Lay low, protect the medical supplies, and treat the injured. You were close enough to see the fight, but still far enough away that the Umbarans could easily miss you in the foliage of the dark jungle. The problem was that since everyone scattered, the battlefield moved slowly closer.

The trooper stepped off the modified transport and crouched behind the cover. He readied his rifle, aiming it over the root, “I’ll protect you and the supplies.” Dawn sounded resolute but you noticed the tip of his blaster shook ever so slightly. 

“Thank you.” you weren’t going to point out his clear terror, so instead, you focused on the leg he didn’t put much weight on. At the angle he rested his ankle, you figured that was the cause of his initial limping, “Don’t move.” you said, tending to it. 

Torn muscle. Fracture. Bone still in place.

Simple. Blessedly simple. Better than the usual gruesome burns, broken bones or fatal wounds.

There was another woosh overhead, and two more explosions that followed. You looked up, the Umbaran starship twirled once before lifting higher in the sky. Through the smoke, you saw the shadow of a soldier reaching up for help, so you ran to him. 

The battle was moving closer to your position as the 501st was pushed back. It didn’t take long for you to grab the trooper by the shoulders and drag him back to your cover. An Umbaran raised their blaster, intending to take you both out, but Krell deflected the shot.

Oh, the bastard found your position. Lovely…

“I got you.” you spoke to the writhing soldier as you removed his cracked helmet. Immediately you got painkillers into his neck and began to assess. 

Bleeding left ear. Missing left eye. Massive laceration on left cheek and temple. Awake. Conscious. 

“Talk to me.” your words seemed to do something for him, as he snapped into focus and kept his rifle up and pointed at behind your position. He handled the wound well, acting like nothing phased him.

“Vaughn, my name is Vaughn.” he responded, managing to aim steady and fire at an approaching enemy, “Is it bad, doc?”

“Your eye is gone.” you told him the truth as you kept your focus on him, “But you’ll be alright.” You tried to speak again, but your voice was cut off by more explosions. Those flying ships were causing too much damage. 

The fight had moved to your position, putting the injured and medical supplies at serious risk. 

Dawn jerked back with a sudden cry. He collapsed, smoking hole in the middle of his helmet. 

Dead. another name to add to the list.

Krell carelessly stepped over his body getting around you and Vaughn. He looked uninterested as he pulled out a holocomm. You stopped paying attention to the General as Kix brought you another injured soldier. And then a few more managed to bring themselves to your side.

At some point, Rex joined Krell. You didn’t even know when he had gotten to your cover, but it was a relief every time you saw him alive. Jesse and Dogma had joined him, the latter taking a step in front of you to defend you and whoever you treated. 

You and Kix managed to get about nine soldiers stabilized when the order came out.

“We’re moving out!” The clone captain shouted, “We need to move! Now!”

There wasn’t much time to help anyone else at the moment. You ordered a soldier to drive the speeder. Once you stood, you draped a soldier's arm over your shoulder and held his side as you walked. Kix literally threw someone over his shoulder, and took hurried steps to follow the battalion.

Your eyes were on Krell as you marched. He didn’t even bother to look back at those that were hurt or dying. He didn’t know their names. He didn’t care.

But you did. And you’d add every name to the list you repeated in your head.

[katnissdoesnotfollowback]

Do you think Peeta strangling Katniss affects their relationship in the growing back together phase? Most seem to think it would be Peeta getting reassurance and comfort from Katniss but I find that a little wrong since it was her getting strangled and with the neck covered in bruises

Why does it have to be either one or the other needing/getting reassurance and/or healing from the strangling?

By the end of Mockingjay, both Katniss and Peeta are dealing with complex ptsd, which means both of them have an assortment, a complicated mess of traumas they have to sort through during the grow back together phase. That’s why it’s essential that both of them work with Dr Aurelius. So I absolutely believe that it does impact their relationship, at least a little. But there’s A LOT that is going to affect their relationship during the grow back together phase. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, it’s just a fact of living with ptsd.

I agree with your hypothetical “most” that Peeta would absolutely feel guilt and responsibility over his trying to strangle Katniss. He put his hands on her and physically hurt her, left her marked and unable to speak for a significant amount of time. She needed to be hospitalized for her injuries. As a person with childhood abuse in his past, who we can readily assume wanted to break that cycle of violence, Peeta would be devastated to learn that he did that to Katniss. Just like he was devastated seeing himself throw Mitchell into the barbed net in the Capitol. Hijacked or not, he’s going to have to come to terms with the fact that he did it. He’s going to need reassurance from Katniss over it, and would have to learn to forgive himself as part of their growing back together phase.

As for Katniss… what I’ve seen argued is that she was more concerned with the verbal hurts Peeta inflicted upon her when he was recovering from the hijacking than she was with the physical ones… which I can see the case for this textually. She doesn’t fixate on the strangling itself but on the words he speaks and how she thinks he sees her, the “real” her in her self-loathing, after his hijacking. She almost acts like she deserved that violence against her body.

But here’s the thing. If we can assume that Peeta never wants to repeat the abuse his mother heaped on him by abusing those he loves… he’s going to feel like shit for the things he said to her in his pseudo hijacked phase as well. Peeta internalizes the things his mother said about him. She calls him a “stupid, worthless creature” in Katniss’s memory of the bread flashback. And in Catching Fire, Peeta lashes out at Katniss and Haymitch for keeping secrets from him by saying “Like I’m too stupid or inconsequential” to understand or deserve the truth…

Inconsequential is another way of saying worthless, my friend. He repeats what we know his mother has said about him. Because on some level, he believes that it’s true… symptom of trauma and abuse, my friend.

So of course, even if Katniss fixates only on the cruel things that hijacked Peeta says to her rather than the physical act of strangling her, there are still going to be a host of issues they have to deal with, and eventually, they’re going to have to deal with the strangulation aspect as well.

And Peeta’s no stranger to lashing out physically either. In addition to verbally lashing out, Peeta also physically breaks a lamp in that CF scene. Some people will argue that it’s a stretch, but it is still an indicator of his anger on occasion manifesting as physical ACTION. Lest we forget, he somehow kills Brutus in the Quell, and Brutus is billed as one of the stronger, more ruthless Victor Tributes in that arena. Oh and by the way, Beetee had Peeta’s knife at the lightning tree. So what in the fuck was Peeta armed with when he killed Brutus? His bare hands?!?!

Now, Katniss might not actively fixate on those things during Mockingjay, but I find it highly likely that she would flinch or visibly react to the possibility of physical violence when post MJ Peeta gets angry or distraught… because she knows what he’s capable of and knows that he’s lashed out physically before. And that is absolutely going to affect them both.

Do I think Peeta is abusive towards Katniss? No. Absolutely not. I don’t think that at all. But lemme give you a real life example.

I’m married to someone with ptsd. Some of that is a result of having physical violence inflicted on him personally. Some of it is just from witnessing violence and its results in real life. Some of it is from existing for long periods of time in a place where he was constantly in danger of dying. I have never physically hurt him. But one time, shortly after he came home, I playfully smacked his arm (not even all that hard, Anon) while we were hanging a picture on the wall, we were laughing and teasing each other… and he legit froze, completely tense, and whispered “Don’t… don’t do that again.” I had triggered a flashback.

So there is no doubt in my mind that at some point, Everlark has to deal with Peeta triggering a flashback in Katniss to the moment he tried to strangle her.

Conclusion: It’s both of them that will have to deal with it, will need to heal and need reassurance. I just think that it is going to take a lot of work for both of them to process, deal with, and overcome the verbal and physical violence in their pasts. I think really, the discussion you’re probably seeing right now is simply an acknowledgment that Peeta, as loving and soft as he can be, is also fully capable of violence, and he knows it, and he’s going to have to deal with it. He’s no cream puff. He’s got fire in him and is fully capable of biting back. But acknowledging what he has to deal with in terms of him almost strangling Katniss isn’t necessarily a dismissal of what Katniss will have to deal with alongside him. She’ll just be dealing with it from a different aspect and probably at a different pace.

❤️ kdnfb

[nivasichakano]

Orange Wine — Bonus Content for Driven

In Driven, Gale and Astarion are two rival Formula 1 drivers who've become teammates.

This scene takes place after the events of Chapter 12, in which Gale brings Astarion to visit his mother and her narrowboat.

🏎️

Morena makes her way unsteadily up the garden path, balancing dirty plates in one hand and her wine glass in the other. 

Stupid woman, she chastises herself. She should have checked with Tara whether Gale knew about the idea to bring him back to Weave as Astarion’s race engineer. She’d assumed that, because Tara knew and Astarion knew, Gale must know as well. She’d really assumed that the idea would have come from Gale himself.

Morena wonders if this means it was Astarion’s suggestion after all, and allows herself a smile at the thought. She glances back over her shoulder, her smile growing wider when she sees the boys clambering onto The Yacht’s well-deck bench and getting comfy on the cushions. 

“Whoops,” she exclaims softly as she trips over an unseen pebble or branch on the path. Or maybe it’s the back doorstep. She’s probably had a little more wine than is technically advisable. Still, it was orange wine. More antioxidants than the other colors. It’s practically a health drink.

She totters into the kitchen, depositing the plates in the sink as elegantly as she can manage without putting her glass down. For a moment, she worries that the loud clatter of it might alert the boys but, then again, an alien spacecraft could crash land next to those two and they probably wouldn’t notice if they were together.

It’s been downright painful watching them fumble around each other today. From the minute they got out of the car, Astarion staring at her son like he was some sort of god, Morena has wanted to clunk their heads together. All day, she’d observed how they gravitate towards each other, how they mirror each other’s body language without realizing. She’d noticed every time one of them stole a glance at the other when they thought they weren’t being watched. She couldn’t hold her tongue when Gale — who could just as easily have offered Astarion a hand onto the boat as they cast off — seized the younger man around the waist as though they were standing at the edge of a fatal drop. As though the canal would be any more than waist height if you stood in it.

Not that Astarion seemed to mind. Morena chuckles, remembering the way he’d leaned into Gale, fingers fluttering at Gale’s chest like a southern belle in need of smelling salts. Such a funny boy — sharp as a whip and with a tongue to match, but a complete kitten around her son. It had tugged at her heart to witness how upset he was at the hospital, his reaction to seeing Gale all wired up almost as strong as Morena’s had been. 

And Morena knows for a fact that Gale is smitten; she’s suspected as much for months. She knows her son, and the only other thing he’s ever rambled about as much as he does about Astarion is Formula 1 itself. It’s certainly a far cry from how he’d sounded when he talked about that bitch he was with before. When he used to talk about Mystra, Gale’s voice would be sad, weary. When he talks about Astarion he lights up.

Morena wonders if that’s what’s holding Gale back now. Mystra. The woman had been older than him, much older. She was also the damned team principal, and him only a rookie driver. It makes Morena’s blood boil to recall. It had taken them — herself, Tara, and Wyll — a long time to help Gale come to terms with the fact that Mystra’s pursuit of him had been inappropriate. So perhaps that was what his ‘too old’ nonsense was about earlier. He’s worried he’s doing the same thing to Astarion. Morena could kill that woman for the way she’s destroyed Gale’s confidence. 

Poor Astarion, Morena chuckles again. The boy had shown Gale a picture of ‘his type’ that may as well have been a mirror and Gale was still doubting himself. Astarion is going to have to try a bit harder than that. She’s of half a mind to text him right now and tell him to damn well get on with it and kiss her son — but no, she mustn’t get involved. She’s done all she can. They need to get there by themselves.

From the wide window over her kitchen sink, Morena can see them talking, huddled up at the front of the boat, heads together. She wonders what Gale will decide about going back to Weave. Anything that keeps him close to Astarion, she assumes. 

Almost on cue, Astarion rests his head on Gale’s shoulder, and Gale reciprocates after a moment’s hesitation. Morena dabs at the corner of her eye with her sleeve. She’s definitely had too much wine. Sneaking one last peek at them, she switches off the kitchen light and makes her way upstairs, passing the spare duvet on the landing that she completely forgot to add to The Yacht’s second bed.

🏎️

Read Driven on AO3!

[onlylove4louis]

Armands decision to keep Lestats "I love you" from Louis, in 2x05 was a violation of both Louis' agency and his right to choose... and here's why:

-- Before I get into this one, which should not be one of my long ones, but we'll see how it goes. I wanted to preface this by letting anyone reading this know, I am sick. Have been sick, and while I was going to wait to make any more posts, till I was feeling better... I have been having a great discussion with @faithandfairies in the comment section of one of their posts, off and on for a few days now. And there's something that we just got to, that I just commented there about, that then of course started my mind spinning about. And I was going to try and get some rest, but I can't stop thinking about it, so I figured why not make a quick post.

This is the scene in question (we all know it): I will be putting it under the cut, for those who don't do well with gore and/or body-horror.

TRIGGER WARNING!!

So in this scene Armand all but tells Louis that he means to abandon him, leave him to his pain and misery and suicidal ideation... but he claims, as a one last "act of service" to Louis

(is how I feel about THAT)

He's going to contact Lestat for him and act as essentially a phone cord, between the two... Now, there are so many things I can talk about, with this one scene in this episode, alone. This one singular moment. BUT seeing as how this post is for one main aspect about it, we're shelving everything else, including Lestats words, and focus on the point of this post; How and why Armand refusing to relay the 'I love you' to Lestat, was so wrong... Now, we're ignoring the fact that it's very possible this part of the conversation was not actually said. Seeing as how if Armand didn't choose to relay it to Louis, then we don't really know how Louis heard this part of it. And therefore have no actual confirmation that this is something that was said... For the sake of this post, we're assuming that it was. - And just as an added comment, I cannot for the life of me fully understand how people manage to feel sorry for, and sympathetic for Armand here. While he's doing something so horrifically cruel, to Louis. But I digress...

The fact of the matter is, Armand did not have the right to keep that information, from Louis. It was not his information to withhold. He had no right to make this choice for Louis, and in doing so completely take away Louis choice in what to do with it, how to respond. Because what he accomplishes here, in that one act (in the phonecall itself to be fair) is taking away Louis' agency. So @faithandfairies did make a point, in that at this time Armand is in fact Louis' partner. And being his partner he knew that relaying that information almost certainly would have brought these two back together. And that it's understandable, essentially, that under that circumstance, he wouldn't want to do that. Which is a fair point, I will give them that. But to that I say, that was still not Armands "right", it's not his place. My 2nd point in that conversation was that if Armand was not willing to relay the message, in it's entirety, then he should not have made this call. Especially under the prior circumstance and reason given for the call, being that this was something he was doing FOR Louis, something he was GIVING TO Louis. And that he would then be leaving him, and this relationship, presumably forever. If he actually wasn't willing to do, what he claimed he meant to do, then he should not have done it at all. Period. - I wanted to pull that to the front, for this post. And let the other point(s) I made, come after.

Now getting to the real heart of this... It doesn't matter what relaying those words would have meant to Louis. It doesn't matter what Louis did with that knowledge, how he responded or reacted. That would have been Louis' choice. And should have been a choice that he had every right, to make... If Armand was/is free to CHOOSE to leave Louis, in these horrific circumstances, where Louis has arguably never been in more need of actual help (at least since being entombed). If Armand had the right to make that choice, for himself, in complete disregard of Louis. Then Louis should have every right to make the choice, to then leave Armand for Lestat. Because Louis should have just as much freedom to leave this relationship FOR ANY REASON, that Armand does.

What Armand does in this moment, by withholding knowledge that was meant for Louis and Louis alone, is taking away Louis' option to choose. Specifically, what to do with this knowledge and/or how he wants to react to it... And by removing the possibility of that choice, is therefore violating Louis agency in their relationship. By controlling, and taking away his "freedom", to make the choice to leave it. And that's only assuming that Louis would have actually done exactly that. That's something Armand had no way of actually knowing, and we now never will know...

(which of course is then only further cemented, by erasing the entire interaction from Louis' memory).

Now, the example I used was that imagine this: Imagine if your partner answered your phone, or just a phonecall meant for you. And say takes a message for you, but then chooses to either not give you the message at all. Or to only give you a part of that message. Would you that be okay to you?... And then I went on to actually use an example from the show F.R.I.E.N.D.S:

For those of you who haven't watched Friends, or just don't remember it... I believe it's Season 9 Episode 9; Rachel & Ross are in a rather unhealthy relationship dynamic, where they're living together but not actually together, and while Ross very much hopes to get back with Rachel. She is trying to move on and see other people. Pheobe takes her out, they meet some guys, Rachel gives one of the guys her phone number. When Rachel is out, the guy does end up calling, but Ross is there to receive the call. And takes a message. When he realizes what the message ultimately was, and what it meant for him and the possibility of them never getting back together, he throws the message away. Rachel later, upon wondering why the man never called her, finds out that he did, and confronts Ross to demand to know WHY she did not get that message. The get into a big fight, where Rachel is genuinely truly hurt, it is made VERY clear that Ross was in the wrong. It degrades their relationship even further, and if I'm not mistaken, leads to her promptly moving out... Now the point of using this as an example, regardless of the differing situation, reason and circumstances. Is that the reason Rachel was so enraged and hurt. Is because it was a violation. Ross did not have the right to take that choice or option away from her, he did not have the right to decide for her whether she moved on from him, or not. Regardless of how it effected him, or what her possible choice might have meant for him. It was not his right, or his place to do what he did. And take that choice from her.

And it's the same thing here. Armand being so willing and able to do that, in that moment. And finding absolutely no fault in it. I a direct violation, and shows that he does not see Louis as having any agency in their relationship. I.E he can make the choice to leave, even if it affects or impacts Louis negatively, but Louis can not. He has the "right" to make choices for Louis, but Louis ultimately cannot be allowed, to make choices for himself. And in this moment, with this one action, Armand makes it very clear that he was very willing to take the choice of simply leaving the relationship, away from him. By way of manipulating possibly outcomes and circumstances, to remove the option itself. So not only did he take that choice away from Louis in that moment, but by then erasing it from his mind all together. He removes the possibility of Louis finding it out and being able to react/respond to even that, of his own free will.

The sheer violation of this, and the fact that Armand felt he had every right and was justified in doing this, is just... I don't even know what to call it...

(Now... back to bed for me)

[athforskz]

Sticky Dates - Bang Chan

Masterlist

type: drabble, angst (?)

wc: ~800

not proof-read

warnings: crying, loneliness, yearning, olfactophilia

a/n: wow something that isn’t explicit. also absolutely convinced that this man would smell like heaven.

Enjoy lovelies!

The place you called home felt empty, quiet, voided. It had become a shell of itself ever since you were the only one stepping through the threshold at night. Some days you couldn’t even bear to come back to the small and cozy apartment because it meant you’d be sleeping another night alone. It wasn’t that you couldn’t handle being on your own, it was more so about the constant reminders of him that these four walls held.

You loved the memories you created with Chan, the good, the bad, all of it. But maybe you loved them to a fault. Too much to the point where you can’t stay while he was away. Maybe that was another flaw of yours; depending on him so much. It couldn’t be helped though. That’s just the kind of love you two shared. Chan loved to be needed by you, and you loved to need him. Honestly, it was a dangerous game to play considering his job and now you were paying the price for it.

A heavy sigh left your chest as you entered the darkened apartment. This was the first time you’d been back in three days: opting to stay with your best friend to avoid coming back home. Home? No, your home was gone, he was out traveling the world for the next six months on another world tour. This place was simply a shelter while Chan was away. Nonetheless, you had to face the reality, he had already been gone for a month and you still hadn’t gotten yourself into a routine to make the quiet, well, less quiet.

You made your way into the bedroom and stared at the bed where he normally slept. The sight of the empty space made your heart clench and pull out your phone to stare at the lockscreen of you two. It was a photo of you both laughing together at the beach that was taken on a trip while visiting his family. He had you wrapped up in his arms and his nose was all crinkled with laugh lines, you could still hear his little squeaky laugh playing in your head. If only you could actually hear it again right now. Maybe you should call him?

Your thumb hovered over Chan’s contact debating on if it was a good idea or not. It felt like an hour passed before you finally decided against it, you didn’t want to bother him. He’s probably busy, besides he said he’d call when he had the time. Chan always called, in fact, you spoke with him this morning, but now that you were back in the bedroom you two shared the need to hear his voice became overwhelming.

Dammit, when did you get so clingy? You shook your head to steel your resolve. You’ve gotta get it together if you’re going to get through half a year with Chan being on tour. Just one step at a time, you thought to yourself while entering the attached bathroom. A shower should do you some good.

The water cascading down your body felt heavenly, you hadn’t even noticed how tense your muscles had gotten before the warmth and steam enveloped you. When you had turned to grab the body wash your eyes landed on the half empty Lush bottle on the shelf, it was one of Chan’s favorite scents. A pout formed on your lips when you opened the bottle and inhaled, it smelled just like him. It sent a rush of mixed feelings through you, the smell of him making you think he was so close, yet he was still so far. You lathered the soap all over your body savoring the smell of Chan flooding your senses. Maybe this would end up becoming your favorite scent too.

Eventually, the water ran cold after spending such a long time in the shower. You were trying to soak up every second possible in your makeshift Channie scented sauna. You continued with the theme of ‘Chan-ifying’ yourself by spritzing a bit of his cologne on your neck and even putting on one of his black t-shirts to sleep in. Anything to make the illusion of him last a little bit longer.

Your mood had been content until you had slipped into his side of the bed, then the weight of how much you missed Chan hit you. You buried your face into his pillow and a whine left your throat as your eyes watered. There was nothing more you could do besides face the emotion of missing the love of your life. It’d get easier as time went on, it had to, right?

Just as a pitiful sob was about to make its escape, your phone began ringing. It was like your whole world lit up again when you saw his contact flashing across the screen. You answered the video call without a second thought. The lazy smile on Chan’s face instantly warmed your heart.

And for a little while, you felt at home again.

Taglist: @doitforbangchan @jehhskz @laylasbunbunny @oc3anfloor @crybabykurominho

[skotchtapeowner]

Ok frens, I have some thoughts regarding episode 77 (latest free ep) so obvious spoilers ahead

Also, this isint me hopping on the Annabel hate train, I love her to the end of time, and I want to see her character be as morally grey as possible because that’s what makes her that much more compelling;

So a lot of people think that the wallening happened because Monty Will and Ada originally wanted to put Lenore in the wall first, but then Annabel stepped in and volunteered Duke (it coudnt have been anyone else) instead to protect Lenore. That in itself is very interesting but what I would find way more intriguing is if it really was Annabel’s plan all along…

Putting lenore in a wall benefits no one, monty likes toying with her and torturing her, so getting rid of her this early on would kinda ruin his fun, I still feel like deep down, ada still really likes lenore and the Annabel wouldn’t volunteer her for obvious reasons.

So then why put duke in the wall in the first place? Well as shitty as it sounds, duke disappearance benefits Monty and Annabel the most, Monty gets his room to himself and gets to get rid of Lenore right hand man, essentially being a way to torment Lenore, and Annabel gets to get rid of Lenore’s main distraction, since Lenore is messing up Annabel’s plan to protect her friends (she could also be a lil jealous of duke getting all her attention as well)

I also find the crime to be wayyyy too specific and complexe for it to have been purely Monty will and Adas idea, Annabel is a strategist after all, and it’s kinda the perfect plan to get rid of someone in these circumstances. If duke dies, he’s in a fuckin wall with no chance to escape, and dying in Nevermore means you get orbed. Assuming your orbed soul spawns where your body was when you died, dukes orb would be stuck in the wall with no way out and no way to be found. It’s litteraly impossible to find duke. If Annabel didint have anything to do with the original plan, I think Monty and co woudve just killed him and buried him somewhere, but that woudve left a trail that could be easily traced, and hi orb could’ve been free.

The question remains, are we really gonna hate Annabel for doing what she thinks is best to save her lover? She said it herself that she sees everyone around her as pieces to her game, so this isint a deceiving move on her part, at least for us the readers. And again, this all happened before the widows watch, so Annabel didint know yet just how far Lenore would go for her friends, if she knew this information before then she might not have done what she did. And of course the method at which dukes dissappearance is mega cruel, but we can’t forget that Monty is also a there and clearly had an influence on how he wanted things to happen.

Annabel being the one behind it all is ti me the most plausible and the most interesting story line, for the angst the drama and eventually the reconciliation (lennabel are endgame after all so them getting back together is inevitable).

No hate to this theory but if annabel was just protecting Lenore, and volunteered duke in her place, I find that it’s kinda a cop out, if you’re gonna make her villainous, might as well go all out right?

We also can’t forget that this is a one for all hunger games style story, people are going to be trying to kill each other left and right since there’s only one life, and we shouldn’t expect everyone to be all friendship first or whatever.

To me, morally grey/ corrupted characters are waaayyy more interesting m, and that’s litteraly the nature of Annabel’s character, just how far would she go to get her and Lenore out of nevermore? This series dosent pull any punches when it comes to morality, and that’s why I love it so so so so much, it’s brilliant story telling!

And then personally for me, my two favorite characters are Annabel and duke so this whole scenario is ripping me apart and I love it ✨

(Also, i wouldn’t be mad at all if I’m wrong and she did in fact do a wall swap, both possibilities are interesting!)

[importantgalaxyrunaway]

Better than the devil. (Matt Murdock x reader) part 2

read part one here (tPLEASE COMMENT AND REBLOG I WORKED REALLY HARD IN THIS ONE)

warnings: a little spicy at the end, very much implied smut at the end. Lots of angst. SO MUCH CATHOLIC GUILT. Guilt in general. Negative self talk. I tried my best wrote a lot more than normal. LOTS OF FLUFF TOO!!!, such cute interactions with the child.

note 📝: italics are Matt’s thoughts Might do a part 3 but I’ll do some one shots before hand. Have lots of ideas will post a poll. Let me know if ya wanna be tagged in Matt Murdock fics

@schneeflocky

Matt finally stirs with his wife in his arms. Maybe it was the fact it was now morning or perhaps indulgence on sounds the city was emitting this morning. The chaos, the carnage he could hear it all. The “blip” had blown everything apart and now society was scrambling to put itself back together the night after they returned. But then he feels her weight on him, like an anchor to the real world and his senses. Her soft sleeping heartbeat flutters and her skin…her skin was like honey. Her scent was intoxicatingly good. He breathed in her lavender smell. His fingers skate over her silk nightgown. He smiles to himself remembering how he had bought it for her. It was his favorite fabric, he loved feeling and loving her in it. She used to tease him by wearing it when she wanted his attention begging for his touch. Trying not to wake her, he shifts her body slightly off of his own and stands up walking to their bedroom. There he changes from his work suit to causal clothes (in the gif)

he walks back to her and stokes his hair. And a sudden pang of guilt washes over him, he could still smell her salty tears from the last night. Right now there was nothing stopping him from being engulfed in an ocean of catholic guilt.

he had left her. He had knocked her up and left her like some deadbeat. It was like he had used her for her body. No one deserves that let alone the woman he married. The woman he loved. Who had been through so much pain with him on his account. All the nights were she’d patched him up from practically the brink of death. Were her scent and touch were some of the only things grounding him from a volume of guilt and dispear. From overwhelming all the sounds and sense. Her delicate kiss and featherlight fingers keep him sane in those dark days where he almost lost sight of everything. This was the woman he said he would never leave. Vowed it to god on their wedding. No, She deserves much better than him. Better than the devil.

Now even Matt knew that the blip wasn’t his fault, there was nothing stopping the inevitable, but its catholic guilt and there no stopping it. Besides, he also left the city and the danguorus streets. God knows what Fisk did while he was gone. He clenched his fist and the mere thought. The devil clawing to get out of him. He needed to get back on the streets tonight. But then….he heard it a small body the pads of her feet halting to a stopped when she saw him. Her small but mighty heartbeat pounding.

“who are you? Get away from my mommy!” He was surprised at the fearlessness and authority in her squeaky voice. But mostly he was stunned. He tried to speak but it was as if his mouth dried up. He couldn’t believe it…he was a father? He had made her? She was so big he had missed so much. Another pang of guilt racked his body. God, she had to grow up without a father for the first years of her life.

“why are you staring at me like that?” She questioned. Of course he wasn’t Staring but he was facing her general direction and his thousand yard stare seemed to be unsettling. Sensing her slight discomfort he quickly grabbed his red glasses and put them on as not to scare her. Finally his body felt as if it was not cemented. And finally y/n woke up, stretched and yawned and her eyes fell upon the sight in front of her.

“angel it’s okay, i know him. He’s not here to hurt us” She says quickly and it puts her at ease. Matt can sense her shoulder untenseing and her heartbeat returning to normal. Y/n sighs “what are you doing up?” She kisses Matt’s still numb with shock body on the cheek. walking towards the kitchen that’s near the living room area so they can still talk.

her hands make a motion and cover her ears. She makes a face of discomfort. “City’s- loud today. More than normal, it hurts.”

his wife made a sympathetic nod as if this is not the first time she’s heard something like this.

“ok, I’m going to make all of us some banana pancakes and I promise angel I will explain everything” she says makeing the batter “oh and Mathew dear, you don’t have to wear those glasses this is your own home and she should get used to it”

suddenly realization struck Matt like a harpoon. And he find his voice. He snaps his fingers to make himself wake up out of this trance. He takes of his glasses tentivily.

“wait…you can hear the city?” He crouched down next to angel. “Does she have my sense?”

“she does. I…haven’t explained it to her fully yet but she knows she different than other kids”

a wave of emotions washed over him like tidal wave in a storm. He could barely even believe he was a father and now this. Concern, hope, protectiveness, guilt. But what beamed the most inside of him was pride. Intense pride. And he beams. She was like him, she could hear the city, feel the things he felt. From every heels on the pavement to every whiff of purfume that would hit him like a brick wall rather than a ‘pleasant smell’. He worried of course about it. But wasn’t this more than he could possibly have hoped for? He wasn’t alone. He puts her hand on his chest and his on hers.

“can you hear my heartbeat?” He says shakily. You can tell he’s fighting back tears

“mhm. It’s strong!”

“I-i can hear yours too. It’s small but it’s powerful.”

they sit the for a while , him crouching to meet her level hand on each others hearts in unison. His strong steady and hearty. The heart of a fighter. Hers quick and small, like a butterfly beating its wings. Listening to their heartbeats in chorus. As father and daughter. The moment is so beautiful he doesn’t want to break it but eventually withdrawals his hand and stands up. The girl looked at him quizzically and then ran to her room to play with her toys till breakfast is ready.

“you never told me” he walks towards where she is frying at the stove and hugs her from behind. She squeals slightly as he does this surprised. He wraps his arms tightly around her waist. “I’m sorry I left you ” he purrs into her ear. Nuzzling and nipping at her neck then pressing featherlight kisses all down her collarbone. Stopping for a moment to inhale her lavender scent. She flips the final pancake off the stove and turns it off. She turns around to face him and put her arms around his neck. Her livly met his unseeing ones and she wished for just about the millionth time he could see, just so he could stare into his eyes and for once have them meet hers back. His hazel eyes were so damn pretty and it always pissed her off that he hid them from the world. Not that he didn’t look good in his signature red glasses, oh no he was beautiful but to her it was sad he had to hide. His fluffy hair looked magnificent and she couldn’t help admire him. He ruffles his hair and goes to the table were she calls for angel and serves them all a healthy stack of pancakes. As they sit down eating their pancakes angel finally breaks the silence.

“so……who is he”

she takes a deep breath ready to plunge into the conversation “he’s your father”

“I thought you said dad was gone?”

“yes well, I thought that too. They are calling it a blip. Half of the universe seems to have mysteriously disappeared and then reappeared five years later. Your dad was one of them”

“oh” is all the little girl manages trying to wrap her head around the idea

“it’s confusing but the important part is he’s back and we’re going to be a family”

the little girl beams at her new found father. I hold Mathew’s hand and pat it reassuringly. The atmosphere feels like it’s ten pounds lighter and calmer.

“also, angel” matt starts as if testing saying her name “im not exactly normal. And neither are you . that’s a good thing. When I was a kid a truck with chemicals hit me in my eyes. And that’s why I can’t make eye contact with you. I’m blind sweetie.”

“you can’t see me?” Her eyes widening as if she’s never thought of the mere idea of blindness. Her tone astonished.

“no but you see, just like you i can hear everything in the city. Actually i can hear and feel and smell much more than you can. Even though i lost my sight my other senses were heightened. I can “see” in my own way”

“you aren’t blind but you still have some of your father’s abilities” y/n added

she nods taking in all the information. They realized it was a lot for a little girl but they didn’t want to talk down to her. She was smart and they knew that. There he had told her everything….well not everything.

——————/————/—————-/.——

As long as he could he would never tell her about the devil in him. The fact that he was balancing daredevil and being a father terrified him, all Fisk would see was a potential weakness. The day still haunted him to this day when he had kidnapped his wife and hurt her just to prove a point to him. He still felt guilty when his hands slid over her ridges, scars and burns from where he had hurt her. Everytime the guilt hurt him more than a gunshot. As he leaped across buildings listening for screams and cries he thought about this. A lot more crime had come after the blip, people who were devastated for losing their family’s or desperate because their jobs. He had been more busy in these days than he had ever before as daredevil. He had already stopped, an armed robbery, a kidnapping of a little girl, and prevented a woman about to be attacked by a man with a knife and done many others. He had sustained more cuts than bargained for, including a long gash across his side. Maybe it was the fact that it had been five years. The world had moved on without him. Crime was rampant in Hell’s Kitchen more than ever before. He couldnt continue not with dried blood caked all over his suit. Not with multiple gashes and cuts and bruises across his body. He made his way across the rooftops jumping back to his house. He slide in through the window. He listened to their hearts. Angels was slow and steady she was clearly fast asleep he could also tell by her little breathe. She was having a good dream. But y/n’s was up pacing the room her heartbeat quick, he could tell she was worried for him. She spot him on the windowsill instead and pulls him into her arms.

“oh! Matt” her voice gasps full of love and concern but mainly sorrow. she pulls him in for a tight hug in his weak form. “Look at you” she steps back to fully take in his appearance. He was caked in blood from head to toe. Weither it was his or someone else’s she didn’t know. He was exuasted, hair disheveled taking off his mask. She silently prayed that it was someone else’s blood on him. Glancing over at the clock, it was 3:30 am.

”sweetheart I’m sorry I-“ but he stumbles forward and you catch him barely before he hits the ground. “Ugh” he groans.

you practically drag him to the shower. She peels off his suit, stripping him down naked and turn on the shower. The lukewarm water is soothing on his skin as he sits down on the bench in the shower. A blush across his cheeks now that you decided to strip him down completely. My body heats up seeing him naked, even beat up he somehow manages to look like a Greek god. Or maybe a handsome devil would be more fitting.

“We’ve been married for 6 years and I can still make you blush, that’s says something” she jokes as she scrubs the caked blood off of him. It going down the drain in a stream of red. He is clearly out of it. Overstimulated, overwhelmed. Hes just sits there in a trance as she cleans him up.

“it’s worse than I thought” he whispers

“it’s Hell’s Kitchen of course it’s bad”

“no the blip created a power vacuum they’re back, all of them.”

he groans and leans his head back. She gently washes his hair and analyses his cuts. The water cascading across his heavenly body. His expression is pained.

I can hear them, all of them, the people I couldn’t. they’re screaming in my ears and I can’t drown it out. I’ve failed them. I’ve failed them all. I can’t do it all, I’m only one person there are dozens of them crying. Crying out for me. I’ll never be able to stop them it’ll never be enough to stop them. I’m a failure, I don’t deserve happiness. I especially don’t deserve her and angel. She could do so much better than the devil. I’m a f—

his thought loop round and round like a carousel at fair. The only thing that grounded him was her touch in his hair. A soft gentle anchor to life.

“Matt” she said sweetly her voice dripping in that honey tone that made his knees weak though he’d never admit it. And tone seems to shift in the room. “My Love, your clean now. Are you alright?”

I love her so much. I want to feel her every inch of her. I want her grounding me to earth. Her body on mine. I can tell her heartbeat picking up and her body temperature rising. She feels the same. I could listen to her voice all day. God, i love her.

there are still more days than often when he wonder ‘what did he ever do to deserve her’ and though he doesn’t know it she thinks the same.

he pulls her in for a kiss by her wrist. The kiss is hungry and desperate, full of lust and passion. But there is the signature taste of gentleness in there. When you finally break up from the long kiss, he pulls you onto his lap and and trails soft but rough kisses down her neck.

“I’m going to take you up on your offer from kitchen” he pants out with that signature devilish smirk that he always has before he takes you to bed.

“I’m all yours matty” you smile with a glint a mischief in your eyes. You know how much that nickname affects him especially when you said it in that sugary voice that you did now. He swallowed back a deep groan and kisses you eagerly to silence it.

there was no dening it, the road would be hard ahead but the two of you would go into it together. You would get through this together.