#ive gone into it more in previous posts

[neofelis----nebulosa]

Po and Tigress's relationship is so funny because they're written like a queerbait couple but like. its a male character and a female character. like theres some stuff that is obviously written in a way that can be interpreted as romantic but like the movie never actually backs it up with any further development of a romance between the two. there's always that plausible deniability so they dont actually have to follow up on it.

[slowlyvaliantmoon]

eegggghhhhhhhhhhhhh

[jetii]

Promises Made (pt. 1/3)

Part Two | Part Three

Pairing: Crosshair x fem!Reader / Crosshair x Jedi!Reader

Words: 5,234 / 23,314

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! angst, hurt/comfort, themes of grief/death/mourning, protective!Crosshair, everyone is bad at feelings, this part is at least 50% bickering, smut in part 3

Summary: Crosshair is back, and you're the only one who still can't seem to forgive him. When you finally have the lead you've been seeking since the extinction of the Jedi, you seize the opportunity to escape the constant turmoil his presence causes you. Of course, Crosshair has other plans.

A/N: This is my longest work yet, so I decided to split it up into parts. But if you’re just here for the smut, don’t worry, the emotional edging is worth it! It’s my first time writing Crosshair so please let me know how I’m doing.🤞 Part two will be posted same time next week.

Previous Work | Next Work | Masterlist

“I’ll be back before you know it.” You pat Omega’s head, smiling warmly down at the young girl as she clings to you. It hurt to leave her again, but you were going to be gone for a few days at most, not weeks.

Still, her grip doesn’t let up, and her gaze is turned downwards. Things had slowly gone back to normal since you all returned to Pabu from Barton IV, with the exception of Omega’s reluctance to let any of you out of her sight. 

That, and how Crosshair had been acting, which was to say he was avoiding you at all costs.

That was fine with you. The others may have forgiven him, but you weren't so ready to let bygones be bygones. You could tolerate being in the same room as him, but that was as far as you were willing to go. At least until you could figure out why you were still so upset.

And it was frustrating, not being able to put your finger on the cause of your irritation. Crosshair hadn't apologized, but you expected as much. He wasn't the type. You had already forgiven him for betraying the team and refusing to come back, but something was still keeping you from completely letting go.

It was unbecoming of a Jedi, you knew that, but you couldn't shake off your resentment.

It didn't help that his behavior was confusing. The day you got back, the others had gone about their usual routine. But not Crosshair. He was more quiet and standoffish than ever, but it didn't seem directed at anyone. It was almost like he was uncomfortable, and not just in general, but with being around you.

You knew he was spending most of his time by the water, though you never saw him when you went out there yourself. Just his rifle, sitting on the rocks.

The others insisted it was a good sign that he was taking the time to process everything. You didn't have the heart to tell them that you could still sense him through the Force whenever you went out, and his unrest was clear. The tremble of his hand, his uneven breaths, his mind racing, all of it.

The only other time you felt him was when you were alone in your room. You were trying to meditate when he walked past. You could feel his eyes on you, could feel him hesitating at the door, before he ultimately chose to move on.

The thought of confronting him made you anxious. You didn't know what would happen, and you didn't know if you wanted to find out. 

For now, you just wanted to keep your distance and get your anger under control. Leaving for a few days to take care of your own problems will give you the space you need, and hopefully, things will go back to normal once you get back.

"Omega?" you ask, trying to get her attention. She finally looks up at you, and you see the concern in her eyes. Your heart aches, and you kneel down, pulling her into a tight hug.

“I know,” she finally whispers.

She doesn't want you to leave. But you were.

The mission would only take a day or two, and then you'd be back. One of your old contacts had called in, saying that she had some intel you needed. You didn't have the full story, but that wasn't going to stop you from dropping everything to answer. You'd been waiting over a year for a call like this, and you needed to see it through on your own.

So you kneel, meeting Omega eye to eye. You hold out your little finger, and she sighs, unmoving. You wiggle it, drawing a soft laugh from the girl.

You’d taught her how to pinky swear not long after you rejoined the Batch. It was a sort of tradition between you and your Master, and him and his, and so on. 

The promise was more sacred than a verbal one to you, even if it was more juvenile than others. It meant that the person who sealed the deal was obligated to fulfill their promise, or face a lifetime of bad luck. 

Of course, you never believed that part, but you liked the sentiment behind the gesture.

"I promise I'll be back," you whisper, "don't finish Spaceworld without me, okay?"

"Okay," Omega mumbles, a weak smile on her lips. She takes your pinky with hers, and the two of you shake. "You promise you'll be safe?"

"Always," you tell her, low and serious.

Hunter watches the exchange, nodding his approval. He doesn't understand the point of the ritual, but he knows enough to know that Omega feels better. And that you'd keep your word.

Your eyes meet his and he nods, silently telling you to hurry and get going. You straighten and turn toward the Marauder, your bag slung over your shoulder, and start off.

Before you can step foot on the ramp, a voice stops you in your tracks, and your blood runs cold.

“You’re leaving?”

Crosshair steps out from under the shadow of the archway behind you, and you spin around. His eyes narrow when you face him, his hands clenched tightly around his rifle. He stands stiff, as though waiting for a fight.

You're surprised by his presence, surprised he's even talking to you, but your expression doesn't betray the shock. Your brow furrows as you regard him, trying to figure out his angle.

“I’m meeting up with a contact for a mission. I won't be gone long. Two days, maybe less, if everything goes according to plan." 

You don't want to explain further, and your tone leaves no room for argument. But Crosshair has never been one to listen to what you want.

He takes a step forward, his eyes flitting over to Hunter for a brief moment, before looking at you again.

"Who's going with you?"

You frown. "What does it matter?"

"Who's going with you?" he repeats the question, slower, a hint of anger lacing his words.

You're silent for a moment, trying to figure out his ulterior motive. You didn't want to tell him, but if he wasn't going to give up, it might just be easier.

"No one," you answer, the words spilling out. "Just me."

The second the words leave your lips, you know you've said the wrong thing. Crosshair's expression morphs into one of fury, his jaw clenched, his brow furrowed.

"You’re letting her go alone?” he asks, turning toward Hunter with an accusatory look. You bristle at the remark, the need to defend yourself growing stronger.

Hunter sighs, running a hand through his hair. He glances at you, and you stare back. You were determined to handle this alone, and while Hunter didn't like it, he understood. So you'd made a deal, the same one you made with Omega, that you'd return quickly and come back alive.

He gives a subtle nod, and you return it.

“I’m not ‘letting her’ do anything. She's an adult, she can do whatever she wants," he answers, crossing his arms. Crosshair's head snaps toward him, his mouth open, but Hunter cuts him off, "Besides, she said she could handle it, and I believe her."

Hunter's words should have made you happy, should have filled you with a sense of pride, but instead all you feel is dread.

If Crosshair had looked angry before, he was downright furious now. His expression morphs from shock to frustration, and his glare shifts from Hunter to you.

You're taken aback by the change. Crosshair had never looked at you like that, not even when he left the squad and you behind.

The look is gone before you can question it, replaced by a steely resolve. He stalks past you, his shoulder brushing yours as he climbs the ramp of the ship.

He doesn't say anything else, doesn't even spare a glance in your direction, and you stare after him, mouth agape, until you realize what he's doing.

"Absolutely not," you snarl, stomping up the ramp behind him. You move to grab his shoulder, but he shrugs you off. "You are not coming with me. I don't want or need your help."

Crosshair ignores your protests, dropping into the copilot's seat. He begins going over the controls, his brow furrowed.

"I don't remember inviting you," you snap. "Get out."

"Don't you mean thank you?" He doesn't turn to look at you, doesn't even spare a glance, as he answers.

"I will thank you when you leave," you seethe. You take a step forward, reaching for his shoulder again. You want him out, and if you have to drag him off the ship, you will.

But he's quicker than you, spinning around to catch your wrist. His hand trembles slightly as he holds it, his grip tightening for a fraction of a second before he releases you.

"You're welcome."

He turns away again, focusing on the control panel, and you growl, frustrated. You can feel your anger bubbling beneath the surface, and you know if you don't calm down, it'll spill over.

"Cross," you start, slowly, trying to keep the venom from your voice, "I don't want you to come with me."

"And I don't want you to leave, but here we are."

He doesn't sound angry anymore, doesn't sound anything, really, but his tone still sets you on edge.

"Look, I know you don't like it, but--"

"Then don't go," he interrupts, his fingers gripping the armrests.

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. This was pointless. He isn’t listening to a word you’re saying, and the longer you argue, the longer it will take for you to get off world. If you don’t get going soon, you’ll be late.

"Fine," you hiss, moving to the pilot's seat. "Do whatever you want."

"Good," he replies, his tone sharp. He leans back in the chair, his arms crossed. 

You buckle in and begin the startup sequence, ignoring him. You try to focus on the task at hand, but his presence is distracting, and it takes you a minute longer than usual to finish prepping the ship.

He's still tense, and so are you, but the tension is different. It's uncomfortable, the atmosphere too quiet and too loud all at once. Neither of you speak, and the only sounds are those of the Marauder starting up and the distant chatter of the others outside.

You focus on getting the ship into the air, and Crosshair stares at the ceiling. When you've cleared the planet, you set the coordinates and the ship jumps into hyperspace.

The silence continues. You hate it. You hate how tense things have been, how awkward, how strained.

You don't like him, not anymore, and he's made it clear he doesn't like you, but you were stuck with each other now. You were on a mission, and you didn't have time to sit and stew in your emotions.

"I have a job to do," you say, finally breaking the silence. "It's nothing major, just an exchange. Intel for credits. If you're going to come, then don't get in my way."

Crosshair says nothing, and you don't turn to look at him, but you hear him shift in his seat, the fabric rustling.

"Fine," he responds after some time, his voice quiet. "So what are they giving you?"

You glance over at him, startled by his sudden interest, and you're not sure how to respond. He stares back, his face blank, his expression carefully neutral. It's hard to read him, and while you can't sense any negative emotion from him, you don't trust it.

You fidget, wringing your hands in your lap. This was a bad idea. You shouldn't have told him. He was going to judge you for it, or worse, mock you.

You open your mouth to reply, but the words don't come out. What were you supposed to tell him? The truth?

No.

"Doesn't matter," you murmur, turning away from him.

You wish he'd let the conversation drop. You weren't ready for him to know. You weren't even sure if he'd understand.

"It obviously does, or you wouldn't be this worked up about it," he counters. His voice is quiet, but his tone is firm.

"I'm not worked up." You cross your arms, staring out the viewport.

"Sure you're not." 

You can practically hear him roll his eyes, and it makes you angrier.

"I'm not!"

"Okay, okay. Just calm down."

"Stop telling me what to do," you growl, shooting a glare in his direction.

"Stop being so stubborn, and I will."

"Why do you even care, anyway?”

He flinches slightly, and you can see his expression soften as you hold his gaze, watching as he searches for a response. It takes him a second, and you observe in real time as the walls go back up, his face morphing into a neutral mask.

"I don't."

"Then stop acting like it," you say, rolling your eyes.

He tenses at your words, and he doesn't respond right away. You think he's finally dropped the subject, but he pushes further, his tone cold. "Why do you need it?"

"It's none of your business."

"You're my business,” he says, quick and sharp.

Then, his eyes widen, and his mouth snaps closed. He's clearly as surprised by his response as you are, and the two of you stare at each other in silence, your heart pounding.

"Oh." 

You're not sure what else to say. The two of you aren't friends, aren't anything, but the weight of his statement doesn't go unnoticed.

You can't figure out if he means it.

You're not sure what to think.

"I mean..." he starts, but doesn't finish. He looks away, clearing his throat. 

"It's fine," you interrupt, not wanting to make things more awkward. The tension is back, and you hate it, but at least you've reached an understanding.

There's nothing between you, not anymore.

Crosshair's quiet, and you're grateful for the silence. You take a deep breath, letting the air out slowly. You'd have time to unpack that later, but right now you had to focus on the mission. You could worry about him when this was over.

After a moment, he turns toward you, his gaze flitting over your face. He doesn't look mad, and his expression is almost pensive.

Finally, he sighs.

"You're not going to tell me what it is, are you?" he asks, watching you carefully.

You shake your head. "You’ll find out when I get it."

He stares at you for a long time, his eyes narrowed. Finally, he huffs, slumping back in his seat. His resignation is a relief, and you breathe a small sigh.

"I have to ask," you begin, eager to change the subject, "what was the point of that little display?"

He raises a brow, glancing over at you. "Display?"

"With Hunter," you elaborate, "back there. I assume it wasn't just to annoy me."

He smirks, the corner of his lips curling upward. He tilts his head, and you try not to think about how it's the first time he's looked at you that way since everything happened.

"I was mostly doing it to annoy you."

"Of course you were." You roll your eyes. You don't believe him, not entirely, but you didn't doubt that he wanted to get under your skin. It felt like that was all he'd done since the beginning, and it was getting tiresome.

"But," he begins, leaning back, "if I can't talk you out of doing this, the least I can do is make sure you have backup."

You stare at him, unsure of how to respond. Your mouth opens, then closes, and you blink several times. What were you supposed to say to that?

"That's... sweet, I guess?" You don't mean for it to come out as a question, but the surprise gets the best of you.

He rolls his eyes and shrugs, and you're reminded of the old Crosshair.

The Crosshair who used to tease you, to rile you up, just because he knew it would make you laugh. The Crosshair who would sit with you while you studied, who would make you food when you were too tired to do it yourself. The one who loved his brothers fiercely, even if he was a pain in the ass. The one that you, despite everything, missed.

You didn't think he was capable of being like that anymore, but here he was, proving you wrong.

"Well," he says, shifting uncomfortably, "It’s my job to keep an eye on you."

You can't help but chuckle at his reasoning, though there's a hint of bitterness to the sound, and his scowl returns.

"It's not funny."

"Oh, come on," you reply, crossing your arms, still laughing. "It's a little funny."

"Is not," he argues, but there's no heat to it.

You snicker, shaking your head. It's not funny, but it's nice. Normal, even. It's the most normal conversation you've had in a long time, and the most normal Crosshair has acted, and it's almost like things are the way they were before.

"Whatever you say, dear." 

The pet name slips out without a thought, and you regret it the second it does. You wince, looking over at him. You hope he doesn't take it the wrong way, but he doesn't seem to notice. He just scoffs, a small smile playing on his lips.

You relax in your chair, letting the tension slip from your body. You'd almost forgotten what it was like, how easy things used to be. It felt good, and you wished you could keep that feeling.

"So," you begin, "are you going to be a good boy while we're there, or am I going to have to watch my back?"

"I'm always a good boy," he replies, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You can't help but laugh, and his lips twitch upward, a hint of smugness coloring his features. It's an old joke, and it's ridiculous, but it feels good. You didn't think he had it in him, and hearing his sarcasm again was a welcome surprise.

"We both know that's not true."

"You'd be surprised." He stands, stretching his arms over his head. When he lowers them, he looks at you again, a faint smirk on his lips. "I can be very good, when I want to be.”

He brushes his fingers across your shoulder as he walks past, and the simple touch sends a shiver down your spine. You can't help the heat that rises to your face, and you're thankful that he's turned away from you.

You're left in a daze, your mind racing. You didn't think he was capable of having a civil conversation with you, let alone flirting. And yet here you were, trying desperately not to think about the implications behind his words.

It reminded you of before, before everything had gone to shit. Back when he could make you laugh in just a few words and make you blush with even less. He’d tease and flirt and push all your buttons, and it drove you crazy.

And you loved it.

You thought maybe you loved him too, at some point.

But he had thrown all that away when he abandoned the team. He had tossed aside every moment of laughter and affection and friendship, and he'd never seemed to care. And maybe that's what hurt the most, knowing he'd so easily let go of whatever it was between the two of you.

You'd tried not to think about him, after he left. You'd thrown yourself into the missions, and you'd tried not to look back. The others had done the same, you thought, but when Crosshair came back into your lives, they had forgiven him.

So why was it so hard for you?

The answer was supposed to be easy. You’d been the one he’d tried to kill, after all. But you knew it wasn’t his fault, knew it was the chip. You wanted to forgive him, and in a way, you had, but it still hurt.

Maybe it was because he had hurt you, not physically, but in another way. A deeper way. He had left you. He had abandoned the team, and he had left you behind, and despite ample opportunities, he'd refused to come back.

Or maybe it was because, after all that, after he'd hurt you and the people you cared about, you still couldn't bring yourself to hate him.

Maybe, deep down, you were worried that part of you still loved him.

Your head was spinning. You needed a drink, or a nap, or a distraction.

"Where are you going?" you call after him.

"To make sure Omega didn't sneak aboard," he calls back.

You can’t help but smile, shaking your head. He'd never admit it, but he cared about her. He'd probably deny it to his dying breath, if asked, but you knew better. And as you watch him disappear down the hall, a strange feeling blooms in your chest.

It's warm, and light, and familiar.

And for a brief moment, things almost feel right again.

Crosshair is, for lack of a better word, insufferable. He doesn't listen to a word you say, doesn't follow your directions, and has a bad habit of doing the opposite of what you tell him to do.

He also has a knack for making you feel like an idiot. It was something you conveniently forgotten about during your time apart, and now, you were beginning to remember why you'd fought so much in the past.

And the worst part was, he wasn't even trying to piss you off.

He was just...himself.

"That's not how it's done," he sneers, leaning against the wall. His eyes are on your hands, watching you clean your blaster. You know this game, and you don't want to play. So you do the one thing that always seems to get under his skin.

You ignore him.

You pretend like you haven't heard him, and you continue with your task. You can feel his eyes on you, but you don't look up. He sighs and huffs as you wipe around the trigger mechanism, he crosses his arms as you check the power cell, and you know he's getting antsy.

It isn't until you wet a swatch with solvent and push it through the barrel from front to back, and Crosshair makes a noise of disgust, that you snap.

"What?" you bark, your grip on the weapon tightening. You're not angry, not yet, but you can feel it creeping up on you.

“You’re going to damage the rifling,” he says, pushing off the wall. He reaches for the weapon, but you pull it out of his reach.

"I know what I'm doing."

"Clearly." He rolls his eyes. “If you keep doing that, you’re going to to end up with a misfire or a malfunction, and I don’t think either of us want that. Do you?"

You know he's right, but you don't want to admit it. "No, but—"

"Then give me the damn blaster," he says, reaching out again.

You consider refusing, just to prove a point, but his tone has caught you off guard. He doesn't sound condescending, or mocking, or even annoyed.

He sounds worried.

So you hand it over, and he takes it, his fingers brushing against yours.

"Just let me do it, alright?" he asks, and the frustration in his voice is gone, replaced by something softer.

You nod, watching as he sits next to you, his attention on the weapon. His movements are confident, practiced, and you can't help but notice the way his fingers move as he cleans.

You watch as he sets the blaster aside, grabbing the canister of solvent and a rag. Crosshair's movements are quick and meticulous, and he doesn't miss a spot. What took you nearly twenty minutes to accomplish, he completes in five, and his technique is far more thorough than yours.

“It’s a miracle you haven’t blown your hand off yet," he says, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “If this is what the Jedi were teaching you, no wonder the Empire wiped them out."

Any good will you were feeling toward him disappears in an instant. You bristle, your anger returning, and you glare at him.

"Fuck you."

"Maybe later," he teases, his lips twitching upwards.

You can't decide if his comment was meant to piss you off or annoy you, and you settle for a combination of the two. You're not sure why you expected anything else from him, but the joke hits a sore spot. The fact that he doesn't realize what he's said, that he doesn't understand what he's done, only makes it worse.

Crosshair's smile falls when you continue glaring despite the flush in your cheeks, and you can sense his frustration. He huffs, looking back down at the weapon in his hands.

He's quiet for a long time, his brow furrowed. Finally, he breaks the silence, his voice soft.

"Here," he says, holding the reassembled blaster out, its barrel glistening. It’s the cleanest it's been in months, though you won’t admit it out loud.

Crosshair had always taken great pride in the cleanliness and efficiency of his weapons, and seeing his handiwork in front of you reminds you of simpler times. You’d lost count of the amount of times you’d passed out from exhaustion after a mission or gotten too distracted, only to find your weapons cleaned and ready to go the next morning.

It had irritated you, at first. You hated having your things touched without permission, but eventually, you got used to it. It was nice, knowing he cared enough about you to do such a thing. Though Crosshair always denied it when you tried to thank him. As if it would be anyone other than him.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, and it’s genuine.

He looks at you, and there's a flash of something in his eyes, something softer than the usual indifference. But it's gone before you can decipher its meaning.

“Why do you still use that thing, anyway?" he asks. “It's a piece of junk. Don’t you have a lightsaber?”

You suck in a breath, his words cutting deep. Of course he would bring up the one thing you didn't want to talk about. You should have expected it. You weren't sure why it had never come up, but you should have known it would happen eventually.

He's staring at the blaster, and you know he didn't mean to hurt you, not this time, but the ache is there, nonetheless. The grief sinks in your stomach like a stone, heavy and cold, and your hands shake. You clench them into fists, hoping to hide the movement.

You've gone quiet for too long, and Crosshair knows he's hit a nerve. He turns his attention to you, and his eyes widen when he sees the look on your face.

You're pale, your expression pained. Your mouth is a thin line, your jaw set, and your shoulders are stiff. “No,” you say, your voice quiet. “Not anymore.”

He frowns. He looks confused, and for a second, he almost looks worried. "What happened?"

“I lost it.”

“What?" His voice sounds incredulous, as if the concept is inconceivable. "When?”

You bite your lip, trying to hold back the tears. You'd promised yourself you'd never cry over this again, but it was proving to be more difficult than you'd thought. It hurts, talking about it, and a part of you wants to shut him out. 

But another, bigger, part of you wants him to know. Maybe it's a test, of sorts. If he can't handle this, if he doesn't want to hear the truth, then there's no way he'd be able to handle the rest.

“On Kamino," you say, and your voice shakes, despite your best efforts. You pause, taking a deep breath. You close your eyes, and the memories come back, clear as day. "Around the same time I…” 

You can’t continue, but the words are there, lingering in the air. The same time I lost you.

His mouth forms a silent 'oh', and the room falls silent. You look at the floor, avoiding his eyes, and he does the same. You're not sure how much time passes, but it feels like hours.

He clears his throat, and the sound breaks the spell. You look up, and his eyes are on you, intense and dark. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, and the apology surprises you.

"Don't be." You shrug, but you can't shake the melancholy that's settled over the room.

"You should get a new one," he suggests.

You shake your head. “It wouldn’t be the same.”

Crosshair hums, and he turns away from you. He picks up the cleaning kit and places it back on the shelf. You watch him, wondering if that's the end of the conversation, and a part of you hopes it is.

But when he turns to face you again, his expression is pensive, and his tone is somber.

He sighs, and the weight of his words hit you, his voice quiet.

“You’re not the same, either."

You swallow thickly, unsure how to respond. You’ve had the same thought rolling around in your head for months, but to hear it spoken out loud, to hear it from him, suddenly makes it seem real.

Because he's right.

You aren't the same, not anymore. You hadn't been since the fall of the Order, since Crosshair left, since you'd lost everything. And you couldn't deny the changes that had been wrought within you, no matter how hard you tried.

"Yeah," you say, and the word is heavy on your tongue. “I guess not.”

You stare at each other, and a moment passes. It's an unspoken understanding, an admission, and neither of you can find the right words.

It's then that you realize that maybe he's changed, too.

And that, for whatever reason, makes you sad.

The silence drags on, and you're not sure if he's waiting for you to speak, or if he's waiting for something else. His eyes are searching, his mouth slightly parted, and he looks almost nervous.

Your heart pounds in your chest, and there's a pressure behind your eyes. You want to say something, but you can't think of anything. You're not sure if the urge is to comfort him, or comfort yourself.

You're grateful when you can feel the the hair on the back of your next prickle, a sign of something shifting in the Force. It's a distraction, a welcome one, and you take the opportunity to break eye contact. You stand to make your way to the cockpit, holstering your blaster as you go.

When you reach the door, you pause, glancing back. Crosshair is still standing in the middle of the room, his head tilted in your direction. His eyes are fixed on you, and he looks almost sad.

You swallow thickly and force yourself to speak. “We should be there in a second."

“How do you—“ 

He’s interrupted by the subtle lurch of the ship dropping out of hyperspace, and his confused expression turns to one of exasperation.

You smile, just a little, and Crosshair scoffs.

"Show off," he mutters, following behind you.

[aealzx]

_______________________

Update Post

Prologue | AO3

Previous Next

_______________________

Despite not being comatose anymore, Danny’s health still wasn’t the greatest. After getting introductions for who everyone was they had started to explain to him what had happened. Only for him to fall asleep again before they got very far. After being assured by Bruce and Leslie that it was normal for those who had been in a coma to not be able to stay awake very long in the beginning, the others had found ways to entertain themselves while letting him rest more. When he woke up again hours later they let him orient himself again before trying to pick up where they’d left off. They had to repeat the same sequence again two more times before they got through the entire two months worth of events.

The hardest part of catching Danny up on everything had been admitting they didn’t know what had happened to Maddie and Jack. During the third time of being awake Danny had asked where they were, being confused why they hadn’t shown up to see him yet despite everything. And when Jazz had finally admitted it was because they weren’t there, and they didn’t even know if they were okay, Danny had panicked slightly. If he’d been in better health Jazz knew she wouldn’t have been able to stop him from running out into the city to try and find them himself. Yet at this point he couldn’t even push himself upright without help, and changing forms or even floating seemed impossible. Which had left him collapsed in Jazz’s lap, sobbing, “You don’t get it, Jazz! None of this matters at ALL if the people I care about aren’t alive! That includes mom and dad! None of this matters if they’re not okay too!”

Jazz knew that Danny really only fought to keep certain people happy. He’d protect everyone, sure. But the reason he kept going, the only real motivation he had for throwing himself in harm's way all the time, was to protect his friends and family. He did a lot of crazy heroic things, but he didn’t want to be some big time famous hero like she had learned Batman and Superman were. It was hard to not be able to tell him that he hadn’t failed. Only Sam, Tucker, and Danielle had been able to get him to calm down by reminding him how resilient Jack and Maddie were. Despite all the fights they got in, it was very rare that those two got hurt. So odds were they were still just fine after this disaster too. It had been enough to calm him down at least enough to stop crying, and allow himself to rest more. But his words still rang in Jazz’s head the next day.

Throughout the days Leslie was present more, checking Danny’s vitals, drawing a little more blood for another panel, bringing him room temperature water to sip in the afternoon. She strangely didn’t try to get Danny to eat anything until the next day. When Jazz asked about it Leslie had explained that while Danny definitely needed to eat again, there was a chance he wouldn’t be able to handle it just yet. While the cryo stasis had helped him not deteriorate as much as anyone else would have over a two month coma, he still had. He was underweight, malnourished, and easily fatigued. And that included his digestive system. She tried to help by giving Danny another vitamin IV with a slightly different formula. But even with that the first time she’d let him try eating two plain crackers he’d ended up throwing up less than an hour later.

That was when Bruce happened to come check on them. With the biggest hurdles for now having been taken care of, most of his kids had gone back to their own homes, as they usually did. It was hard to keep them around for more than a few days, and while there was still the task of getting these displaced kids back home they all knew that could wait until Danny was feeling better. Especially after learning through bits and pieces of information that there was a government team back there that would just love to hunt him down the first chance they got. So with Duke and Damian currently at school that left the house rather empty, and Bruce found himself taking charge of checking on their visitors. He had learned a lot about them in the past two days. The kids were obviously used to helping patch Danny back up, without the help of any adults. But they still relied on Danny being okay to feel secure. Danny was the one that protected them. Danny was the one they relied on being okay to judge whether or not everything else was okay. When Danny was cracking jokes the others were at ease. But when Danny couldn’t force himself to reassure them, there was a harsh spike in their anxiety. And usually Jazz was the one that took charge, trying to keep them all calm and reassured.

It was an unfair, but understandable situation that didn’t allow for Danny to truly rest. And that was what motivated Bruce to enter the room and approach the kids this time, stopping by the connected bathroom to grab a soft towel first. Jazz was once again the only one sitting on the bed while the other three hovered nearby, waiting to be directed. Her hands were on Danny’s back and arm as he was curled over the bucket Leslie had made sure was left just in case, coughing and half heaving despite there being nothing left in his stomach. Bruce couldn’t imagine how much stress it must be to have an audience, so decided the first thing he’d do would be to get the others to disperse. When he raised his hand to Tucker’s shoulder he couldn’t blame Tucker for jumping in startle.

“D’dude! You scared me,” Tucker protested shakily.

“He’ll be alright,” Bruce chose to assure instead of apologizing for inevitably sneaking up on the kids. “Can you three go work with Alfred to find a change of clothes and bedding?”

The three almost jumped on being given something to do, a series of affirmatives before they scurried from the room. Bruce sent Alfred a text to request he keep the three of them occupied for a while then knelt down next to the bed and offered the towel to Danny. It seemed his stomach had decided to stop throwing a fit for now, and as Danny took the towel and buried his face in it Bruce relocated the bucket to the nightstand. He didn’t need to wipe his entire face, but from that angle Bruce hadn’t missed the tears, and realized Danny was hiding.

“Jazz, can you join the others?” Bruce requested on Danny’s behalf. “And find Leslie to help waterproof his injuries so he can have a bath?” Not only would that give Danny some time away from the others, but he actually really needed one too. A fact Bruce realized when he’d reached up to help pull Danny’s hair out of his face. He’d probably feel a little better after getting fully cleaned up for once too.

Jazz seemed reluctant to leave, but at least seemed to know when her presence was a detriment more than comfort. She knew her brother well, and after leaning down to give Danny a peck on the head and whisper a quick ‘I love you’ she headed out the door.

“...Am I even allowed to have a bath?” Danny’s question came after he was sure Jazz was gone, raising his head and looking and sounding as miserable and pathetic as he probably felt.

“Of course you are,” Bruce assured, using his thumb to brush away another tear that escaped when Danny blinked. “We’ll just have to waterproof your injuries and IV site. But then you should be fine to take one for as long as you want.”

“...Really?”

“Yes.”

The idea of getting some time to himself was welcomed, but after realizing what he was thinking Danny’s expression crumpled again, and Bruce had to raise a little to catch him as we swayed. He was a little surprised when Danny actually curled into him then, his form shaking.

“Sorry,” Danny whimpered, and Bruce couldn’t keep himself from gathering the boy up in a tight hug. “...I’m not okay.”

That sounded like it had been incredibly hard to say, and Bruce had to wonder if it was something someone had been working on with him. He’d heard from Jason that it was relatively recent that Danny’s parents even knew what he was, let alone what he’d been going through. Perhaps one of them had been the one to talk him into letting them know when he wasn’t doing well.

“...I know,” Bruce responded quietly as he moved to sit on the bed and pull Danny into a ball. Everyone knew Danny wasn’t doing well physically. But Bruce knew he wasn’t just talking about that part of his health this time. “You’re going to be okay though.”

It felt good to be held by someone he didn’t have to protect. Someone that he didn’t have to pretend he knew what he was doing for. Act like he was just fine and nothing fazed him. It had been something he had just started getting after his parents got involved with all aspects of his life, and he hadn’t realized how much he would miss it until they weren’t there to give him that comfort. Jazz had a habit of calling out the fact that he was just a kid, but she was too, and couldn’t quite give him what he needed. But Bruce was an adult. And someone who seemed to have also lived through similar injuries. Hearing him say he’d be alright felt like a stated fact instead of just a confident reassurance.

It didn’t take long for Leslie to arrive and expertly shoo Jazz away again to help Alfred with the others. She wasn’t surprised at all to hear that Danny had thrown up, and instead just assured him he was going to be okay, and to think of it like having the stomach flu. The comparison did wonders in helping Danny calm down more, to the point he was only sniffling quietly as she took care of dressing his wounds in a waterproof covering.

“Don’t scrub too hard on the edges of the bandages when you’re washing up, okay?” Leslie directed while rubbing the said edges of the last bandage she was placing around his arm to encase the temporarily detached IV. She’d taken some time to clean the sites that would be covered so Danny would be able to feel completely clean after his bath, and was pleased to see he was healing a lot faster now that he wasn’t in some sort of stasis mode. She wouldn’t be surprised if his wounds were completely healed by the end of next week at this rate.

Danny gave a small hum in acknowledgement, understanding that he couldn’t break the seal if the bandages were going to work properly. The desire for an actual bath was strong enough that he was willing to comply with their conditions, even if it meant he had to have Bruce in the bathroom with him, just in case. It made sense considering he couldn’t go to the toilet on his own just yet, but at least Bruce had promised to stay facing towards the door as long as he could. He also had his phone with him to work on his own projects, so wouldn’t even try to get Danny to talk to him.

It was exhausting, but Danny also didn’t realize just how much it would feel good to be clean. To not have his scalp itch, and skin feel like a layer of grime was coating it. And also just to lounge in the warm water, in the silence and almost complete isolation. He was there for a little over an hour - dang fancy rich people's tubs and their ability to keep the water just right - before it became uncomfortably apparent he wasn’t just imagining the aching starting to get worse. Which led him to reluctantly using his foot to nudge the plug out to allow the water to drain and reaching out to knock his hand against Bruce’s shoulder.

“Done already?” Bruce asked easily, glancing over his shoulder halfway.

“Morphine is wearing off,” Danny admitted with a grimace, resting against the side of the tub.

“Ah,” Bruce nodded in unfortunate complete understanding, turning his phone screen off and tucking it into his pocket while grabbing the towel and soft robe to hand to Danny. “Let me know if you need help.”

Danny hummed once again to acknowledge what was said, but stubbornly took care of at least getting the bathrobe on himself on his own once the water had drained. Unfortunately he had to ask for help to get out of the tub, still too weak to lift himself up or stand. But Bruce didn’t react differently towards this than if Danny had simply asked for help opening a jar or something. It was nice.

Alfred had already brought a pair of soft pajama pants and fluffy socks when he’d returned to change the bedding as well. And once Danny was dressed Bruce had carried him back to the edge of the bed where Leslie could double check that the bandages had worked, get the IV reattached and another dose of morphine going. He found he was so worn out from the simple task, but also found that once the morphine did its job taking away the aches and pain he did feel a lot better than before. Enough that Duke pausing in the doorway while returning home from school didn’t make him feel too wary.

“Oh- First post injury bath?” Duke asked, pointing a finger at Danny as he noticed the bathrobe on the bed and Danny’s still damp hair. When Bruce nodded, Duke grinned. “Nice! Those always feel amazing somehow. You should take him to the couch next.”

“The couch?” Danny couldn’t help asking. Was it just the family room couch or something different?

“In the study. It’s quiet in there, and being stuck in bed sucks,” Duke explained. “I bet he was actually already planning on taking you there. After living here I came to find out Bruce is actually really good at helping people feel better. Even though he’s not perfect, no one is, he still makes a nice dad-”

“Duke,” Bruce interrupted, a slight scowl hiding his embarrassment. “Make sure you have enough time to finish your homework before patrol.”

Other people may have been put off by the glower, but Duke just laughed. “Sure sure. I’ll meet you in the study?”

It took Danny a moment to realize Duke was talking to him, and couldn’t keep his shoulders from drooping. He didn’t really want to entertain people yet, he was already feeling physically drained on top of emotionally.

Surprisingly Duke picked up on the mood easily. “I’ll keep quiet. Promise. But trust me when I say it’s really nice,” he offered, easily picking up Danny’s anti-social vibes.

“...Sure. We can try,” Danny accepted, figuring he could at least attempt the idea since Duke didn’t seem to want to spend the time talking.

It was just a few more minutes for Leslie to finish giving him another routine checkup and add an anti nausea patch behind his ear before allowing Bruce to pick him up again. Danny inevitably felt tiny as Bruce was able to carry him with just one arm, leaving the other free to bring the IV pole with them. But he found he didn’t mind. It had only been two days of him being awake in that bedroom, but Danny found getting to leave the room was nice. The study was quite a ways down the hall, and when they reached it Alfred was already there.

“I’ve provided the usual snacks for Master Duke and Master Damian. There’s also a thermos of warm broth that Dr. Thompkins has approved for Master Danny to try if he’s up for it. I will continue to keep the rest of the children occupied until supper,” Alfred informed, bringing their attention to the mentioned food on the low table in front of the very plush couch.

“Thank you Alfred,” Bruce responded simply, heading further in the room to get settled.

There was a fire crackling gently in the fireplace, keeping the room pleasantly warm despite the autumn chill outside. There was already a slight frost on the windows, but the glass was the only thing that reflected that cold. All the colors of the room were warm, and the faux fur blanket Bruce grabbed to help bundle Danny up in only increased the cozy feeling the room had. It was quiet, as Duke had said, and comfortable. Even when Duke and Damian joined them to work on their homework they rarely spoke. And when they did it was in low voices, and to each other about their homework or school day.

Danny had accepted being brought there with the thought that he’d have to end up asking to go back to the bedroom later. But after having spent some time quietly looking around the room his gaze had settled on watching the fire. And slowly the crackle of the wood, soft scratch of pens and pencils, rustling of paper and quiet taps of technology muddled into a soft haze. Eventually Danny’s eyes drooped closed as the soft sounds and comforting warmth became a lullaby coaxing him to sleep. 

Duke was right. The couch was pretty nice.

_____________

This entire chapter was unplanned X'DD but I ain't complaining.

Bruce was as hard to draw as Dick was 8 | my art style is too cute coded for these rugged american comic characters.

Also I am extremely distracted translating a manga that not available in english just so I can know the story |D updates might be a little slower.

_____________

Tag list: @galaxy-sharks-and-bottled-ships, @starscreamlover, @nerdynonnativenarnian, @dragongoblet, @megacharizardx99

@bellathecatastrophe, @cj-ghostemoji-destielpie, @asexual-insomniac, @wolfeyedwitch, @tkiesai, 

@fanaroff, @raven1508, @nebulainajar, @serasvictoria02, @oliocelottafanfics,

@honeysuckletook, @omniithe-deer, @wolf-under-the-stars, @gingernutcalo, @that-random-fangirl,

@op-sys-chaos, @kirasigncomics, @ehobep, @paranoid-ira

[defectiveporcelaindoll]

Chapter IV: The Prophecy

“Hand on the throttle. Thought I caught lightning in a bottle, oh– But it's gone again.”

series masterlist previous chapter

pairing: post-prison/ cm: evolution Spencer Reid x BAU AFAB!Reader (I like to think this is where Spencer is during the current seasons.) series synopsis: an unsub with a taste for couples and power imbalances leads Doctor Spencer Reid not only back into the classroom but down the hypothetical aisle with the BAU's newest Probie for an undercover assignment that may change his life. cw: age gap (Spencer is 42, reader is 24 in chapter 1), Use of y/n's (I'm sorry, I know I'm sick of it too.), fake marriage, romance romancing, kisses, and touches but no smut (yet…maybe); Reader is feisty and flirty; Spencer is anxious and has an aggressive outburst; female reader she/her pronouns, and mentions of typical CM violence. wc: 2.5k of conversation and world-building

The drive back to the university was nearly silent, with only the hum of the engine and the rhythmic tap of the rain breaking the tension that still hung in the air from Spencer’s outburst. When they finally arrived home, an unmarked car with government plates was waiting for them.

With a sigh, Y/N moved to open her door, only stopping when Spencer reached out, taking her hand in his. “Wait—” His voice was soft and timid, melting a part of her soul. Her gaze shifted from the waiting officer to Spencer. He cleared his throat, his grip on her hand tightening. “I’m really sorry that I snapped at you. We were having a great night, and I hate that I might’ve made you feel unsafe in my company…”

Y/N’s brows knit together as she shook her head, turning to better face Spencer. Her free hand cupped his cheek as she leaned in, her nose brushing gently against his before their lips connected. “Hey…I could never feel unsafe with you, okay? I understand it’s the job, it’s tough, and it can get to you…but we’ll figure it out. We’re in this together…till death do us part or whatever.” She teased, desperately trying to lighten Spencer’s somber mood.

He chuckled, nodding his head gently against hers. “Yeah…okay.” He kissed her quickly before letting her hand fall away, getting out of the car, and rushing to grab her door for her.

The pair looked a sight—clothes still dampened from their frolicking in the rain, wild curls, and kiss-bruised lips. They looked more like a pair of high schoolers than professionals.

“Looks like you two had a good night,” the agent called, slamming his car door. He looked annoyed, or maybe that was just his face, Y/N thought, observing the new file box securely under one of his arms. “The press finally caught wind of this one; it’ll be all over the 11 o’clock news if you two are too busy…socializing.”

The agent smirked, his eyes raking over Y/N’s body, catching the way her dress clung to her curves, leaving little to the imagination.

“I’m going to need you to apologize—” Spencer started, taking a protective step in front of Y/N. She had to admit, the role of husband looked good on him. Her hand gently gripped his bicep, trying desperately to ground him. “Spence—” Her warning tone begged him to stop.

“Come on, bro, be serious. I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. I mean, good for you, honestly, bagging a newer model?” The agent threw Spencer a wink.

“Newer model—?” Spencer’s brows shot up in disbelief as Y/N snapped, her brows knitting together. Her feet carried her towards the agent, and her fist connected hard with his jaw before she even had time to register what she was doing. She snatched the box and stormed into the house.

“And I look unstable—

Gathered with a coven round a sorceress table.”

“Em, sorry, I punched him. If you get a call saying that one of your agents punched Agent Asshat or whatever his name was, I take full responsibility. Go ahead and write me up.”

Y/N all but yelled into the phone sitting in the middle of the table, a very tired Emily Prentiss on the other end.

There was a muffled yawn from the other end. “Did he deserve it?”

Y/N sighed, “Well—”

“Yes,” Spencer cut her off, returning from the kitchen with a makeshift bag of ice for her hand. “We may have looked less than professional, but that doesn’t excuse his blatant misogyny, nor the way he was practically eye-fucking Y/N on our front lawn.” He huffed, sinking onto the sofa.

“Sounds like he deserved it…” Much to Y/N’s surprise, Emily didn’t sound upset. If anything, their unit chief sounded amused.

“Should’ve seen it, Emily. She would’ve made Morgan proud. I think she might’ve broken his nose,” Spencer chuckled, glancing over at his literal blushing bride with a cheeky grin.

Prentiss laughed. “I don’t condone violence…but good on you, kid. I’ll let you know if I receive that call, but if he’s the jack-off you’ve made him out to be, I doubt he’ll admit to his superiors that a woman broke his nose. Regardless, I won't be writing you up for this.” There was a brief pause, the sound of shuffling papers and drawers closing on Emily’s end. The time difference between Seattle and the District meant it was past midnight.

“You should go home, get some rest, Em. We’ll look over the newest crime scene photos and see if anything stands out. If it does, we’ll let you know. The agent made the comment that the press had the story…so we’ll keep an eye on that as well…”

Emily, ever the workhorse, sighed. “Fine…I’m going to head out of the office now, but as always, call me if you need me or if there are any urgent developments.”

“Have a good night, Em…” Spencer sighed, his head lulling back against the cushion as the line went dead. “How’s your hand?” he muttered quietly as he started unpacking the newest box of evidence onto their coffee table.

“It hurts…” she shrugged, flexing her fingers under the ice pack, “but I hope his face hurts more.”

Spencer couldn’t help but laugh, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he gazed at Y/N with pure admiration and pride. “Angel, I genuinely think you might’ve broken that idiot’s nose. I can almost—actually, no, statistically, I can guarantee his face will be hurting for a while, especially right now.”

“Pad around when I get home— I guess a lesser person would’ve lost hope.”

The night slipped by, the story was run, and the case stayed the same— unsolved. Nothing particularly groundbreaking was found at the crime scenes, and the MO and victimology were painfully consistent, which left little for Spencer or Y/N to analyze. It was driving Spencer crazy, how after nearly twenty years with the BAU, he found himself genuinely stumped.

In the coming days, everything suddenly became real. After their date, their kiss—it wasn’t just a cover story anymore. Spencer and Y/N no longer felt like characters in a tragic play. They were a couple, who kissed and held hands, who slept in the same bed and talked about their days.

Days turned to weeks, and before they knew it, August had slipped away like a bottle of wine. As the leaves began to change, the lines between reality and their cover began to blur. 

For the first time in a long time, Spencer was happy, and content in a life he had always imagined for himself—a wife, a home, a steady schedule. None of it was real, but if only for a moment, it was real to him. His classes ran smoothly, with students who weren’t just there because he had a pretty face—they cared, and it was groundbreaking. The university had even given him a TA to hopefully lighten his workload. She was sweet, not much older than Y/N, but working on a doctoral thesis in his field of expertise. All the pieces of this illusion had fallen perfectly into place.

"Still, I dream of her…"

Spencer woke with a start. He hadn’t had that particular nightmare in years, not since his brain had nearly bled out all those years ago, not since he saw Maeve that one last time. He couldn’t seem to catch his breath, his hands blindly searching for Y/N in the bed beside him… and then there she was, groggily furrowing her brows.

She wasn’t lying next to a psychopath in a pool of blood, cold and lifeless at his feet. She was in his bed, in his arms even, tangled in the sheets.

Memories and flashes of that night with Maeve, with Diane—the way she’d touched him, the way Maeve had looked. The cases were different, yes, but something felt very familiar to him. Reluctantly, he pulled himself out of bed, padding into the living room where the coffee table had been overrun by evidence from the newest murder. The body count was up to eight now, four couples, and the press was having a field day with this; they’d named the unsub The Albatross.

“Cautions issued, he stood shooting the messenger. They tried to warn him about her.”

The words danced across his mind, echoing in his ears as Spencer sat on the sofa, his eyes searching the crime scene photos desperately. The MO had shifted with the latest couple; the once precisely slit throats were no more, instead replaced by a single shot through the heart. The couple themselves were the same—an older man and a younger woman. However, with this couple, there had been an incident—a fatal shooting years back involving a stalker. Spencer shuddered at that information, his stomach twisting as he read the original case report.

“Shooting the messenger…” he scoffed, tossing the note back into the pile of evidence. He sat back, his head lolling tiredly against the back of the sofa as his mind worked overtime, assessing the words on the page as well as the previous notes left behind, trying to find any connection, any story or reason to the cryptic poem.

“What’re you doing up…?” Y/N’s sleepy voice caught him off guard. He turned to glance behind him at the half-asleep woman leaning against the hallway wall. “Rolled over and you weren’t there…” Y/N mumbled, trying to rub the sleep from her eyes.

“Couldn’t sleep…” he shrugged, trying to hide the fact that he’d been sleeping just fine—except for the haunting nightmare. He opened his arms for the younger woman, beckoning her to come and sit beside him on the couch. He needed to hold her, to know that she was real, but he wasn’t quite ready to get back in their bed just yet.

After a brief moment of contemplation, Y/N shuffled over, flopping down beside Spencer on the couch, her blurry eyes scanning the photos from the crime scene. She’d seen them earlier before they had inevitably decided to call it a night, but now, something she hadn’t noticed before caught her eye.

Without hesitation, she leaned forward, snatching up the evidence bag that held the latest note, her brow furrowing as she examined the reddish-brown splotches near the edge of the page. 

“Is that blood?” she asked, glancing back at Spencer as she handed it to him.

He stared blankly at the mess for a moment before reaching out for an evidence bag that held yet another cryptic poem—though this one was different—if only because he was fairly certain the unsub’s blood had dripped onto it, considering that when the lab had run it, there was no match to any victim. 

"Poisoned blood from the wound of the pricked hand."

“Oh—” Y/N shook her head, looking over the victim's hands…not a drop of blood.

“If it’s not from the victim, it’s sloppy…why not start over, why leave a trace behind?” she said softly, fighting a yawn as Spencer nodded slowly. 

“It’s almost like she's giving us a clue—”

“She?” Spencer asked, raising a brow. Dr. Spencer Reid was the king of picking out a female unsub, usually long before anyone else on their team. What had she seen that he’d missed? “How do you know it’s a woman? What stands out to you?” Spencer asked, leaning forward on the couch, observing the mess of case photos.

“Well, up until this last set…the husbands' throats are slit, and these notes are placed in their left palms. It’s brutal, but there’s an art to it.” She hummed, sinking back into the plush cushions of the sofa. “The wives, on the other hand, are laid out peacefully in bed with an albatross feather in their hands. It shows remorse—after the fact, the unsub is giving the women the respect that’s deserved…it's a different kind of death for the women."

“Okay, and what do you think the notes signify?” Spencer encouraged, slipping into teacher mode as his own mind raced a million miles a minute, putting together all of the points she’d made against the profile he’d been building in his mind.

“Well, they’ve always been in the left hand…ancient beliefs said the left hand was feminine, while the right was masculine. Other ancient stories point to your left hand being bad luck…which clearly…” she motioned to the gruesome photos before them with a sigh. “In some literary works, the left side symbolizes decay…death.”

Spencer nodded along. He’d already reached his conclusion, put the puzzle together, and built his profile. Now he was left to guide her, wait, and see if the younger agent would find her way to the same conclusion.

“Why slit their throats?” he asked softly, his eyes trained on the younger woman’s features, carefully analyzing every micro-expression he could find.

“Obviously, our unsub believes the husbands took something significant from their wives. The way our unsub is slitting their throats leads me to believe that she thinks it’s their voices or possibly their autonomy…I mean, we’re dealing with older men… I mean, it’s the history of man, right? To use women? Take something so simple but vital,” she said thoughtfully. “But it’s the albatross feather in the woman’s hand…such a heavy symbol, and you said before that the bird is associated with burden and guilt. It feels like the unsub is trying to release the wives from any guilt she believes they’re enduring…she’s just setting them free.”

Spencer nodded. “And this tells you what about our unsub?”

Y/N paused for a moment, thinking over the details before offering Spencer a small shrug and a heavy sigh, “Well, I would say that our unsub is a woman, and these men are surrogates…but she identifies with the wives and feels a need to avenge them.” She glanced up to meet Spencer’s eyes, desperate for the approval of the older agent, which he gave with a small nod, so she continued, “The careful way she arranges their bodies shows she has a sense of empathy… she sees herself in these women.”

“Exactly,” Spencer said with a warm smile. “Why do you think she targets older husbands?”

“She probably has a history with an older man—someone who dominated her or took away her voice. This is her way of reclaiming her power and avenging the other women she sees as victims.” Her voice trailed off, her eyes fluttering between Spencer’s eyes and his lips, as he leaned in to gently press a kiss to her forehead.

“Right…you are one hundred percent correct,” he sighed softly, his eyes raking over her delicate albeit exhausted frame with a frown. “And fortunately for us, this case will still be here when we wake up. Come on, let's get you back to bed…”

With a soft yawn, Y/N nodded, slowly rising to her feet, her hand outstretched for Spencer.

“Come on.”

"But I look to the sky and say

please…"

taglist : @olives-and-sunshine @iniyalovesall @suzysface @guiltyyassin @spencereidbasis @tatilolz @cherrycemeterry @hiireadstuff @r-3dlips @sweetpeterparker @catertotshitposts @purple-flower9 @wonderstruck4llthew4yhome @torturedpoetspsychward @skewedcherries @jackchampiongf13 @bouquetolegoflowers @pleasantwitchgarden @conrad4life13 @jdjwjdjjd @lilyn1909 @liquormoneysex @lynlin379 @imgublergirl

I hope i got everyone! if you’d like to be added to the taglist don’t hesitate to lemme know and as always i’d love to know the thoughts and feelings! So sorry this took so damn long

xo

[legy]

hi! i'm caelum. you might know me from @goldentruths-pod or from posting online. im in a financial quicksand pit and i really, really, really need help.

i'm disabled and receive approx ~$950 a month from social security. this has gone from "rough but survivable" when i first started receiving SSI to "i am literally not making ends meet" in 2024. right now my current status is that i am covering my basic needs but any kind of extra purchases are impossible. and the extra purchases i need to make keep piling up because i just can't afford them. some things i need include, in vague level of priority:

dolphin, my cat, is years overdue for a vet visit. this is going to be $300 minimum, possibly more because she has an adversarial relationship with the vet. she needs dental work done which they had quoted me as being $1500 but ive been putting it off for so long that i would not be surprised if that's more expensive too

i have learned today that my gold crown needs to be replaced. really unhappy about this one. it was a miserable experience the first time (everything that went wrong did go wrong, i'll spare you the details) but what is relevant here is that my insurance does not cover this and it was $900 last time. insurance also does not cover extracting the tooth either so that's cool. i have some time before this one is due (my next consult is in july)

my phone is approaching "unusably broken". i've had it for close to 4 years now. the call speaker no longer works (i can only use the phone on speaker mode) and it struggles to run apps or a web browser which makes things like GPS pretty dire. this would be like ~$100-$150 probably, i havent done serious phone shopping yet

my driver's license is expired and i need to get a new one. this was $110 last time. note i havent driven a car in years due to the disability but it's really valuable to have a universally recognized form of photo ID and ive already been hassled over it being expired

god this one is so embarrassing to get into but i had to flee my previous apartment last year due to it escalating into a DV situation. the other tenants did not pay the heating bill, which was in my name (and my dumb ass didnt close the account because it was the middle of february and i didnt want to freeze them to death) so i have a $250 utility bill in collections. i might be able to dispute or debt forgiveness this one but tbh ive been so fucking drained given everything else going on and also my phone barely works so i havent pursued it. especially since i can't afford to pay it if i cant challenge it

i would really like to have a passport again. my previous one was destroyed by my landlord in 2018 but even if it wasnt it'd also be expired now. not sure how much this one costs. likely $200?

my food stamps were slashed in half (covid emergency ending lol) and do not cover my food costs for the month so im paying like $150 a month on food that i didnt have to previously. i can maybe fix this one but im slowly losing my mind from malnutrition from trying to not go into debt and also eat. so i havent had it in me to go 1v1 welfare bureaucracy and possibly make everything even worse

my shoes are probably two months out from fully decomposing. they were $100 three years ago and id like to get something comparable given they lasted me this long

the rest of my clothes are also very literally becoming threadbare, falling apart, or are too big and keep slipping off. i legitimately feel embarrassed to go in public these days because i dress so shitty all the time

insurance doesnt cover my HRT anymore so that's $30 a month i didnt used to have to pay

im sorry this turned into such a ramble. i'm in such a bad way right now, i have been for quite a while and the dental work news is really just the final straw. i can't really have a fundraising goal because due to the SSI asset limit i can never own more than $2000. & i'm aware both that this is the poor people sending each other the same 20 dollars website and that there are people urgently trying to raise money to escape an active genocide. but i held off from making this post as long as possible & idk what else i can do

anyway if theres anything you can contribute to help me i would appreciate it more than anything. at the very least i need to do something about my tooth.

http://paypal.me/hivehum

[niceonejames7]

the vices of mice

james potter x reader

fluff, friends to lovers(?)

warnings: none really

content: james didn't envision his second date with you to involve so many......rats?

a/n: i kinda hate this ngl, ive looked at this too long. terribly nervous to post but fuck it we ball

Mice. 

No offense to Wormtail, they were not James' favourite. But unfortunately, actions always have consequences, and this was it. Mice, popping up in their room, out of nowhere! Someone has retaliated to one of their pranks, and as hilarious as it was to watch Sirius jump around before he had the idea to turn into Padfoot and run away, it had become a nuisance, just in the span of a day. Sirius had made it very clear he wasn't scared of them (he definitely was) which "comforted" Peter (no it didn't, it was very clear that he was scared).

Remus had very explicitly said he would not do it, because he respects his friend's kind. But when after a week, the mice had taken over the dorm, running over sleeping bodies, ruining clothes, eating hidden stashes of sweets and chocolates, it was very clear what needed to be done. The predicament became much more severe when Sirius started wailing about his "lost hair" which had been "eaten by the rats". That's because it's shedding season Pads, Remus jokes. 

Some would say this was a diabolical move, as the announcement to finally get rid of the mice was made on a Monday, the exact Monday when it was James' turn to keep the dorm clean, an exercise started by Remus. Previous week, it had been Remus's shift, but the full moon had rolled around, and James didn't have the heart to accuse his friend. If he can go through the extensive process of becoming an animagus, he can get rid of mice, though the former was a much more interesting project. 

But this was not his biggest worry of the week, as surprising as it must be. 

James had gone on a date. 

And now he wasn't sure how to ask for another one.

Oh, the horror. 

It had been a week since the date, and you had had a great time. The date had been a success, even though you were pretty nervous. James and you had known each other for a while, and it took much coaxing from Sirius and Peter and a particularly meticulous plan made by Remus to get you two to go on a date.

Now, both of you shut out again, a game being played on who will ask first. Bit of you wanted to win, but the paranoia of losing was much too great. 

Two days went by but there had been no progression. Remus, again, had to take matters into his own hands.

"James, just go ask her out. She's not gonna say no!" He exclaimed to the bespectacled boy, who was now rolling his fork to capture his noodles in a spiral, but as he lifted his fork they fell down and James took a bite of a single noodle. But he kept his vision glued to yours. You were unaware of your admirer, or as Remus put it, stalker.

"Actually, I don't care. Just get rid of the rats." He said, shooting a quick apologetic glance to Pete which he responded to with a wave of his hand. He slung his backpack and began leaving the Hall, with Sirius and Peter hot on his tail. James took his time, finally took a few bites of his food and started cleaning up.

He took his last bite when he heard a voice say, "I thought you four had all the same classes." 

His head perked up and he saw you, sitting opposite to him, nibbling at Sirius' leftovers, or well, the crusts of bread he had cut off. Fucking prince, you thought.

James was caught a little off guard and he couldn't explain why he decided to slurp the single noodle in his mouth before responding. He had anticipated the wait to be around five seconds, but it seemed as if the noodles had no intention of ever ending. He tried to speed up the process but that only added to his embarrassment. 

Your eyes lit with amusement as you took small bites of the crusts,"Take your time." you tease. 

He finally let go of the noodles, cleared his throat and spoke as calmly as he could, "I don't take Astronomy. And Remus has Divination."

You hum and a silence follows. James had been nervous before, and now he was panicking. It wasn't a welcome feeling. He had known you since you were kids, it was always easy to talk to you. The nervous anticipating silences bothered him. Fuck this, he thought. 

"We have a mice problem."

"Let's not call Pete a problem."

"Not him, you idiot."

You grin but ask,"Who else is a mouse?"

He sighs before responding, having flashbacks to Remus' lectures."We  got payback for a prank we pulled. I'm willing to bet this was your friend Marlene's work."

You were willing to bet on it too. The Slytherins wouldn't do something so secret. They liked to show that they had won.

"Suddenly she's only my friend?" You ask with mock skepticism,

"Real friends don't do this."

"Speak for yourself." He grins wide, caught in his own accusations. 

"How do you plan on solving it? Burn down her dorm?"

"Unfortunately, I can't. Something very special to me belongs there." He says, a pleased smile taking over his face, which made you smile in return. 

"Huh? What do we have of yours?"

"You. Can't let your pretty head burn, can i?"

This took you by surprise, and there were no quips you could respond to him with. A quick blush covered your cheeks and he tilted his head, his smile contagious. You rolled your eyes playfully and tried to brush off your giddiness, "Alright, what are you gonna do?"

"Well, if I don't clean up the dorm by today Remus is going to be my head." James says, thinking back to a few minutes ago. He also remembered how he had told him to 'just ask her out', and a terrible idea popped in his head.

"Would you help me?" He asks, his voice a little quiet. He tried for an air of nonchalance, he didn't think he had achieved it.

"You want me to help you shoo out mice?" You ask, your eyebrows raised.

He only shrug his shoulders, a pleading expression on his face,

"Alright. Sure." You agree, as if you would ever give up a chance to spend more time with him. "I've always wanted to chase mice anyway." You make an excuse, which makes no sense. 

"You've 'always' wanted to?" He asks skeptically,  

"You have your fantasies, and I have mine, Potter."

"Strange fantasies you got there." He says, slinging his bag over his shoulders and extending a hand, inviting you.

You follow his lead, a bright grin on your face and James' heart does a few cartwheels. 

…

"Let me get this straight," Sirius says, holding up his hand to any obstructions, "You asked her to clean YOUR dorm room, which is infested with mice because of YOUR prank, and she's still coming?"

"She's not cleaning it for me." James tries to justify his poor choices,"None of you pricks will help me. So I had to ask for help."

"You must be packing for her to agree with this sorry excuse of a second date."

"Wouldn't you like to know loverboy?" James extends his hands and makes kissy faces towards Sirius when Sirius swats his hands away and escapes him,

"I'll pray for her well-being. You're clearly not right in the head." Sirius says, opening the door rather dramatically before leaving the room with a grin. 

"Wow, so it's not cool to kiss homies now?" he shouts after Sirius. 

Remus and Peter bark out a laugh at this. They both get up and head towards the library. 

He waits impatiently, fiddling with his hands and running his hands through his hair then fixing it, then doing it again and again. He was in the process of deciding whether his glasses looked better on his eyes or resting on his head, when he heard a knock on the door. The same time you always use to indicate it's you who's knocking. 

A smile graced his lips and he made a last futile attempt to tame his unruly hair before opening the door.

"I brought cheese!" You hold up a bag, and sure enough, James sees a block of cheese inside.

He barks out a laugh,"For us or the mice?" still chuckling.

"I thought we could share." You say shyly and James wraps an arm around you in pity (or that's what he tells himself).

"Well, at least this will go well with the snacks." He muses.

"Do we have snacks?" You ask excitedly and he points to a pile beside his bed and you run over with grabby hands but he's quick to stop you.

"One snack for every mouse. Think of it as a treat." 

After a bit of arguing over the snacks, and opening three chocolate frogs, you finally get down to business. Your hair is pulled back in a ponytail and you've set rat traps around the room when you huff,

"Tell me again why we can't use magic to summon them?"

"You don't think I've tried?"

"This is the last time I'm helping you."

He only grins and gives you pieces of cheese laced with rat poison,

"These are NOT for you." He reminds you. 

You giggle and start placing the blocks where they need to be and you've already spotted the first rodent bastard, "James, look!"

James sprints towards the rat, barely catching it, his body jumping off of beds when his feet get tangled in his sheets and he falls with a thump on the bed, his hand still outstretched to reach the rodent. You both sigh in defeat when the rat escapes his reach.

"Goddamn it."

You pat his back comfortingly trying to contain your laughter and say, "It's okay, soldier."

This continued on for a while, and now it had turned into more of a laughing contest than catching (or rather chasing) rats. 

You're on the floor clutching your stomach when James disposes of another rat, alive in the bag they had been collecting the rodents. James caught the first one and couldn't bear to kill it, saying it reminded him too much of Wormtail. 

Your bag had two more rats than his, not that this is competition, which he has pointed out later in the game, so you were winning.

After having two rats crawl over you before catching them had you at your end, and after what seemed like a few hours of this, it felt like you both had tackled the mice problem.

"You think we're done?"

"Think so."

Both of you headed to the Care of Magical Creatures professor, feeling it more fit to hand them to someone capable. It had taken a while to explain exactly why we had so many rats in bags with us, but he had let us go.

The day had ended and both you and James headed towards the kitchen to grab a bite, after extensively washing your hands. 

Sitting down at a corner the house elves had prepared for you both, a bit too nicely than either of you deserved with your untimely demands, but they didn't seem to mind.

The silence after a day of chaos was comfortable, but there was an inkling in your brain that just wouldn't go away.

"I won the game, what's my prize?"

He looks around confused pretending he has no idea what you're talking about, "What game? There was no game."

"I caught more mice than you."

"Oh, did you? I didn't notice." 

You nod your head with a smile, a grin fighting to break out. As you take bites of your food, occasionally casting each other a look after a day of enjoying each other's presence, it feels an awful lot like… 

"James…" you trail off, his eyes on yours, asking you to continue. Your bottom lip rolls between your teeth to suppress a smirk when you ask, "Was this a date?"

His chewing stops momentarily and he fixes his glasses, pushing them onto the bridge of his nose, 

"Could be if you want it to be."

You scoff, amused, "Your idea of a second date is catching mice together?"

"I just wanted a helping hand from a friend-" He stops at your raised eyebrow, his own smile mirroring yours,"I didn't ask you about this as a date. It just…" He trails off, looking for the right words,

"... happened."

"Yeah. Something like that."

His eyes flicker to your lips and there's a moment of hesitation but he leans down anyway, slowly. His lips are just a whisper away from yours,"We could make it an official date."

Your hands rested on his chest, another barely holding onto the piece of orange from your plate, "Good idea."

His smile is wider than ever when his lips lock with yours, slow and teasing as his hands curl deeper into our hair. You sigh into the kiss and you can hear James chuckle, and you swat his chest, which is only responded with him deepening the kiss. You abandon your orange to free your hand when you hear a loud hiccup, "Oh, Missy apologizes deeply. She didn't mean to see that, or interrupt you. Missy feels sorry, please forgive me, I will leave." A house elf, her eyes wider than they already are is covering her face with her hands. 

"Missy, no, it's alright, wait don't leave-" She's gone into thin air before either of you could say anything.

You look at James with a defeated look and he says, "I'll find a better place for the third one."

"This one might need a do over, though." You gesture between the two of you,

"Oh, really?" He asks, a teasing edge to his voice,

"Mhm. Multiple runs, so we know which one's the best one."

"I like the way you think." 

[shiny-jr]

damnation (peek V?)

Warning: Yes, this is a yandere thing. Gender-neutral reader.

Characters: Neige LeBlanche, Epel Felmier, Rook Hunt, Vil Schoenheit.

Summary: When you commit a crime, you receive a punishment. This is especially true in your society. No matter the crime, your punishment is the same: banishment. But to where you will be sent in exile and how miserable will it be? No one knows, because no one has ever returned.

Note: Should I be posting this right now? Probably not. Especially since Scarabia isn’t completed, but I haven’t posted anything in a while and I’ve been more motivated and inspired for Pomefiore lately. Maybe seeing comments and opinions on this might boost my energy and make me write more and complete both Scarabia and Pomefiore. Hopefully. Anyways, I wanted to post this anyways because technically it was part of the first sneak-peek before I edited it out so I could make its own and make it longer too. That, and after seeing fanart by a mutual, I wanted to write even more. I’m finally getting the chance now. So I’ll be writing right after I post this. Go check out the most recent fanart I got for this specific part of the project. Oh, and if you have no idea what this is, you might want to check the first sneak-peek post (the “I” below) and my previous posts under the #damnation twst au tag. One last thing. None of this is edited, I just copy and pasted from the draft I have so yeah, just in case y’all see mistakes it’s because I haven’t gone over it yet. I usually go over everything once it’s completed.

I . . . II . . . III . . . IV . . . V . . . VI . . . VII

THE BEAUTIFUL KING

A dark robe. Wrapped around your shoulders was a black cloak, like wings folded in. Speaking of feathered appendages, there was a single shiny feather tucked behind your ear. You had felt it tickling your earlobe, leading you to pluck it out of your hair to examine it. It was long and black, huge in size, making you imagine it came from a beast of a raven. Slowly you looked up, confused to find yourself at a desk surrounded by books, bottles of odd colorful liquids, and there was even a cauldron in the corner of the stone wall!

Returning your attention back to the feather, you were perplexed but quite liked it so you placed it back behind your ear where you had originally discovered it. Upon standing from the wooden chair, you noticed your change of outfit. A simple white ruffled shirt and black pants, although nearly every inch of you was covered by the black cloak on your back that reached all the way to your ankle and draped around you like a curtain. Lifting up the cloak, you could feel a short sword strapped safely and securely in a hilt on your back hidden away from sight. What was this place…? Why were you dressed like this? Why did you have a sword? What was going on? Was this your punishment?

Just then, your eyes drifted over to a book stand where a heavy leather tome sat open to prying eyes. Your prying eyes, to be exact. Curiously you stepped toward it, your fingers ghosting over the crisp pages of the aged book as you squinted incredulously at the words printed on the surface in a large font, occasionally dotted with red ink. “Poison apple…?” Beside it was the painted image of a ripe red apple, and in its shining reflective skin was the distinct shape of a skull. “One taste of the poisoned apple and the victim’s eyes will close forever in the sleeping death.”

But that… that was from a fairytale! The story of Snow White and the Beautiful Queen! This page about a poisoned apple, the tome, this basement filled with ingredients and suspicious concoctions… So it was true, criminals were often sent to dangerous tales where they would perish. And you... you were a criminal and you were here, but... what role did you play? Lifting your hand up to your ear, you suddenly felt the familiar soft sensation of the black feather accessory and realization dawned on you. Didn’t the queen have a pet raven…? Could that explain why you were here in these strange but fancy clothes? Of all things, why did you have to be the raven?

How did the story go again? The Queen was vain and wicked, she wished to be the most beautiful of all. It was said that she consulted her magic mirror every day and would inquire as to who the fairest of them all was. Should the mirror ever reply with another’s name instead of hers, she would find a way to kill her rival and would only be satisfied once the mirror answered her name. So when her step-daughter, Snow White, grows to become the fairest of them all, the Queen goes mad with jealousy and has a huntsman attempt to kill her. When that fails, the Queen takes matters into her own hands, eventually turning herself ugly as a disguise and even causing her own untimely demise by falling off a cliff and being crushed by a boulder, her remains left as feed for hungry vultures. That was the Queen, but what about the raven? Well, it’s never disclosed as to what happens to the bird, at least to your knowledge. The last the raven is seen, it was being tormented by the wicked Queen as she was creating the poisoned apple. Actually, maybe being the raven wasn’t so bad afterall… At least it didn’t perish or receive some other horrible ending.

Knowing this brought you much relief. At least you didn’t end up as the raven in that other story about a sleeping princess. That raven was turned to stone! You pity any poor sucker that might’ve ended up in that position. This outcome was adequate, for now. Perhaps it was best to venture outside, to attempt to find this beautiful queen. To be honest, it was a little exciting. You had always wondered how beautiful she was, since the novels always claimed they could never do her justice. But that's besides the point. Once meeting her, you then had to decide what your next move would be.

Keeping all that in mind, you climbed the spiraling stone staircases just barely lit by candles. You winced whenever you heard the squeak of a rat or spotted a rotting corpse of a forgotten prisoner still in chains. Quickening your pace until you reached a wooden door, and stepped into the sunlight. It was warm and delightful, the sun’s rays shining on your skin. You felt free. As of now, this was far from punishment. But knowing that you were sent here to be punished or even die, was what kept you from being completely at ease. You could almost just relax here in the calm and beauty of this garden–– key word, almost. Shrieking and many voices shattered your temporary peace, even scaring away the white doves that had flocked in the open courtyard.

Grumbling, you followed the sound of the commotion. It sounded like it was coming from over the high palace walls. There was one portion of the wall that was shorter than the rest, if you climbed onto the smooth edges of the railing by the stone steps, you could successfully scale onto the top of the wall where you decided to lounge about and spectate the action. On the other side of the wall, you could see a young man getting closer and closer, nervously waving at a large group giggling and following him. It was obvious that he was a little uncomfortable, and that he was trying to lose them without hurting their feelings by how he continued to smile even as he picked up the pace.

When his eyes landed on you, he appeared surprised, and as he walked the path he was getting closer and closer. Feeling pity for the lad, you sighed and stretched your arm down, to which he hesitated a moment before finally deciding to place his hand in yours. You heaved him up and slid down to the safe side of the wall, the palace side, just before his apparent fans could catch him. Their whining and complaining was amusing.

“Thank you…! You saved me!”

Oh, right, he was still here. You glanced over at the young man peering happily up at you with the brightest smile on his lips. Your eyebrows furrowed as you slowly began to notice his features. Hair black as ebony, skin white as snow, dressed head-to-toe in rags… No way––

“Ah, I know you!” He exclaimed, delighted as he took a step closer. “You’re my elder brother’s attendant! I’ve seen you around the palace countless times. You are always working so hard that I’ve never gotten a chance to properly meet you! Of course you must already know but my name is Neige, it’s truly so wonderful to finally talk like this with you!” He performed a small but polite bow. Such manners for a prince in rags. “I never knew you were so kind! Is there any way I can repay you?”

“Ah, no, there’s no need for that…” You studied his face, attempting to make sense of it all. If this Neige was Snow White, it did make total sense. His skin was flawless, it looked like a marshmallow, so pristine but soft. He was cherubic. His beauty was more of a one of innocence and cuteness, and it seemed the townsfolk noticed his looks judging by how they focused on his physical features instead of his attire. You force your gaze away. This was the prince who the Queen would try to kill. But there’s a chance it may be King in this version, because you’re fairly certain that Neige had just mentioned something about having an elder brother that you apparently worked for. “It was nothing.”

“Please, don’t be so modest! Your actions were selfless and heroic. Had it not been for you, I’m afraid I would’ve been stuck outside all day with no choice other than to interact with all those that followed me. And I couldn’t have that! I promised my brother that I would do my chores.” A sad frown appeared on his face as his gaze traveled back over to the wall, “Although I do regret having just left them without so much as a goodbye…”

So he was kind… Makes sense. Most princesses, or prince in this case, were kind-hearted souls that were far too naive or trusting and had the strangest ability to communicate with woodland creatures. However that last part worked, you weren’t entirely sure.

“The doves of the courtyard gathered by the well with me this morning! And we all made a wish! I, well… It's a bit embarrassing, but I wished for something truly special. And I believe that my wish may have come true!” A pretty pink blush made his cheeks rosy as he clasped his hands together, looking so truly content as he peered up at you.

“Is that so…?” Well, magical animal talking ability, check that off the list. He really was like the princess from the fairytale. But you didn’t like where this was going. You outgrew fairytales a long time ago, but when you read something so fantastical and magical in your innocent imaginative youth, it sticks with you. Perhaps that was a good thing, because even now you could recall the small details of the story.

In the beginning of the story, Snow White is cleaning the courtyard when she meets the doves at the well where she makes a wish to meet her true love. Not too long after, the prince appears on horseback, hearing the princess’ song that leads him to climb over the palace walls to get to her. When you got older, you quickly realized how creepy that actually was. The prince crept up on her like some sort of stalker, and essentially trespassed on private palace grounds. But that’s besides the point right now. The point is, Snow White made a wish to meet her true love which happened to be the prince. Well, right now, you have yet to see another so-called dashing prince or princess. There was just the courtyard and you were alone with Neige, and he was gazing up at you through his lashes and with a pretty smile that appeared too fondly. The Queen, or King, really needed to stop cooping up Prince Neige within the palace walls. It was dulling his sense towards social cues and common sense.

“Hey! What the hell are you doin’...?!”

Surprised at the sudden presence beside you, you looked to see another stranger. This one you couldn’t automatically connect to a role. It was a short young man with a cuteness that could possibly even rival the prince. He had such wide blue eyes and odd soft lavender curls that framed his face. Unlike you and Prince Neige, his outfit was of much finer detail which consisted of a white tunic and long dark blue sleeves from the shirt he wore underneath. A red cloak was draped over the shoulders of his small frame, the ends brushing against his simple pants and boots. But despite his fine clothing and adorable appearance, he spoke with such brashness, irked for whatever reason.

“Ah, you must be Epel! My brother speaks often about you! He says he sees great potential in you!” Neige interjected, oblivious to this Epel fellow’s irritation. Epel… the name didn’t ring a bell. You could accurately deduce what Neige’s role was based on his appearance and the fact that his name meant snow in French. But you still had no idea who Epel was supposed to be. Again, Neige bowed his head in polite greeting as he exclaimed, “Today must be my lucky day! Not only have I met you now, Epel, but I’ve also met–– Um…” He paused, turning to you and inquiring softly, “I’m sorry, I’m so excited that I’ve forgotten to ask your name.”

The lavender-haired boy quickly snatched your attention away from the prince, grabbing your cloak where your arm would be as he hissed in a whisper so as to not involve Neige. “Are you crazy? Talkin’ to the prince…! Vil is gonna fly off the handle!” Not-so-discreetly gesturing to the window right above them with his eyes darting to it and back to you, but not moving his head, so as to not alert the onlooker behind the glass.

You froze, not moving your head but your eyes moved up to where Epel had been glancing at. Out of the corner of your eyes, you could just barely make out a tall and thin figure in purple standing at the large window, holding the red curtains open with both hands. They were watching, and just as you moved your head the tiniest bit to get a better look, you only caught a glimpse of a deep angered frown before the curtains were abruptly shut, barring you from seeing anymore. That could’ve only been the beautiful royal, the monarch in charge that sees Prince Neige as a rival. When you looked back at Neige, he was still smiling at you with his hands folded in front of him, patiently awaiting an answer. Poor guy doesn’t know what’s coming.

“We gotta go, or Rook is gonna drag us back himself…!” Without even waiting for you to give Neige your name, Epel took your hand and ran like a bat out of hell. Making a beeline straight for an entrance to the palace, you attempted to keep up with him. He was surprisingly strong for someone so small.

Behind you, you heard, “W-Wait, I never got your name…!”

Well, that’s a crying shame. Focusing your attention on where you were heading, you began to lose track of all the twists and turns within these palace walls. Epel led you forward, he certainly knew where he was going. But you? You hadn’t a clue. That is, until after a few minutes, you arrived at a long hall where at the very end there were double doors already opened. The few soldiers standing guard paid no mind to you and the lavender-haired fellow, probably because in their eyes, you belonged here. And yet that couldn’t be further from the truth.

You felt so incredibly out of place as you stood on the lengthy blue carpet that stretched forward toward a small yet intricately designed throne of gold and jewels formed in the shape of a magnificent peacock with its feathered fanned out. But what was more entrancing than the priceless throne, was the person sitting atop it. Oh, how the novels did not lie, they truly could not do the monarch any justice in portraying their beauty. The King, who must’ve been Vil, could’ve been a world-famous model. His face looked like those perfect sculpted marble statues, it was the type of look that would incur the envious wrath of gods and goddesses in mythology. There was not a single blemish or flaw. Not even a single hair of his golden locks fading into lavender was out of place. The long purple robes under the longer black cloak flowing down his body, complimented the color of his amethyst eyes. Those eyes looked even more shiny than the golden crown perched atop his skull. You weren’t a simp but wow.

The King appeared less than pleased, it actually made you incredibly nervous when he bore a frown and silently beckoned you closer with a single curling movement of his index finger.

Walking past Epel who stood by the door, you took a deep breath as you recounted what knowledge you had on etiquette during this time period. Once you were a few feet in front of him, you began to kneel, when he spoke and caused you to freeze.

“Don’t.” Intense gaze glued to your form, he watched you carefully as he instructed, “Come closer.”

You slowly stepped forward, closer to him.

“Closer.”

Hesitating, you took another step so one foot was on the step in front of his throne.

“Closer.”

Pausing, you inched forward, now standing on the same elevation as the throne. Now you were just centimeters away from him, and it was putting you on edge. When he appeared seemingly satisfied, that’s when you finally kneeled in front of him. With a bowed head, a common sign of respect in customs with monarchies, you greeted simply, “Your Majesty.”

The King peered down at you, silent for a moment as you kept your head down and eyes glued to the ends of his purple robes and how his black cloak that matched yours, but his was much longer, pooled around his throne to look like a black void. After a few moments, you felt his hand at your chin, his slim fingers urging you to look up. When you did, he hummed, “Well, my lovely pet, have you had your fun with my little step-brother?” He gave a question, but it became obvious that he didn’t want an answer. At least not yet. This king must not be too fond of the prince. As his thumb stroked your chin and raised it so your head was almost at his knee, he continued slowly while gazing down at you, “You know that I loathe sharing, don’t you? So why would I share you with my step-brother, hm? Have you perhaps… begun to favor him over me?”

It struck you then that the royal must be an extremely envious person. Not only did they want to remain first in standing when it came to beauty, but he also wanted to monopolize people’s attention so that they may focus on him. Replying carefully, you spoke while keeping your eyes glued to his enchanting yet intimidating gaze, “Of course not, Your Majesty. It was merely a coincidence that I encountered him. I cannot be as easily swayed as the masses.” For a moment you hesitated, seeing that he seemed unconvinced as you proceeded, “... My loyalty to you cannot be broken by a prince in rags.”

After a few moments, the tension in the air evaporated as the king graced you with a smile that made your breath hitch. You had said the right thing. Tempted to glance at Epel for a possible clue on what to do next, you refrained and instead remained still as a statue when the king reached forward with his other hand to remove your hood. “Let me see your face, my retainer.” As soon as the hood was removed, he examined your face in the light. It took an incredible amount of calm to keep composed and not squirm in place under his intense scrutinizing gaze. Finally, he frowned and sighed, “I’ve been keeping you confined beneath the castle for far too long. You’re beginning to look ghastly, and I can’t be seen with someone beside me that’s less than appealing to look at.” Removing his hands from your face, he motioned for you to stand, which you did. “You’ve done enough. Getting rid of our guests and covering it up must’ve been challenging, especially for you to do it all on your own. This time, Rook will take over while you will be receiving enough sunlight to revitalize your complexion. Do not overdo it. Rook.”

Guests? Cover up? This wasn’t in the story. There wasn’t any time to fully process what you heard before you detected yet another voice just right beside your ear.

“Good day, petit corbeau!” You felt your soul leave your body for a single second when these words were said beside your ear by a voice, an extremely close and unfamiliar voice. When you jumped, startled, you noticed there was another young man literally only an inch behind you. When did he even get there? You didn’t even notice him until now! When you stepped to the side out of the way, you furrowed your eyebrows at his smile.

The young man was blonde, with hair styled into a ridiculous looking bob-cut but he somehow made it work as he wore a wide-brimmed brown hat with a black feather. Over his shoulders and back he wore a large hunter green cloth that wrapped around his shoulders like a scarf and extended over his back like a small cloak. Underneath, concealed by the cloth, was a dark tunic and black pants with a belt and knife at his hip. However, what unnerved you wasn’t the knife at his hip or the bow and quiver chock full of arrows on his back. It was his eyes.

His forest green eyes were glued to you, and he bore a wide and charming smile. “Ah, to see you without your hood and out of the undercroft, what a rare sight! Marvelous! I must thank you, Your Majesty, for making this possible! It is not everyday we see your dutiful, striking, mysterious little raven. It is truly a spectacle to behold! I will treasure this rare moment where I’ve not only heard you speak, but have seen your visage without being shrouded by shadows and concealed by your hood!”

You did not like this. The way he was looking at you as he spoke so dramatically made a shiver crawl up your spine. Yes, he spoke nothing but praise in such an honest tone and declaration, but there was something in his eyes. Something that placed you on edge as his smile turned slightly ominous and his eyes narrowed at you. There was a twinkle in his green eyes as he tilted his head at you inquisitively, as if sensing your unease without you even saying a word. This had to be the Rook fellow that Epel mentioned offhandedly, and now it made sense as to why he ran back so quickly just to avoid encountering him.

Much to your relief, Vil sighed and interjected without even standing from his throne. Furrowing his eyebrows, he scolded in an irked tone, “I didn’t summon you to pester my little retainer, Rook. Stress from you is not what my retainer needs right now. It causes wrinkles.”

“Apologies, Your Majesty.” Rook chuckled, obediently turning to fully face the royal as you stood stiffly beside him, keeping a safe distance between you two.

Behind you, out of the corner of your eye, you could see Epel quietly closing the doors once Vil gestured for him to do so. It seemed the king wanted privacy, he wished to say something not even the guards outside the thick wooden doors were allowed to hear. The only ones that would be witnesses to his words were you, Epel, and Rook. You had to wonder what was so secretive that he didn’t even want his soldiers stationed outside to hear, and why were you allowed to hear? Was it because you were supposedly in the role of his trusted retainer? Maybe it had something to do with that cover-up he mentioned just a short time ago.

The tension in the room was thick, it disturbed you and you can tell it bothered the short purple-haired young man too if his growing perturbed frown was anything to go by. Despite this, he took up the space beside you. The blonde with the bow, Rook, who you now were assuming to be a huntsman if his attire and weapons were any giveaway, continued to smile without much of a care. Rook was on the left, Epel was on the right, and you were in the center, and still on his throne was King Vil. With luck, you’ll be able to keep up this act. It wouldn’t do for a retainer to fail. It might cost you and be the slip-up that would put an end to this charade of survival.

“I’ve decided. Rook, the duties I normally give to my retainer will be passed onto you today. You’re much more suited for this job. It involves my little step-brother, Neige.” The way he said the prince’s name made it sound like it pained him just to utter it, like it burned his tongue just to mention him. But he continued. “It seems he’s been working hard at completing his chores, hm? He’s been begging for a day out, and he adores flowers so… Rook, you will take him far into the woods, a secluded meadow where he can pick as many wildflowers as his little heart desires.”

Once you processed his words, you froze. It dawned on you that it was happening, this was the moment in the story when the beautiful queen commanded her huntsman to murder the princess in the woods. Vil must’ve already consulted the magic mirror and was told that he was no longer the fairest in all the land. That title now officially belonged to Neige, but it wouldn’t for long if the king had anything to say about it.

The other two loyal and trusted by the king had no idea, as Epel appeared vaguely bored and disinterested while Rook seemed elated. “Of course! I’ll see to it that it is done, Your Majesty––!”

“I’m not finished.” Vil interrupted, frowning tersely as his gaze turned cold. Tapping his well-manicured nails against the armrest of his throne, his eyes narrowed and he leaned an inch forward while instructing, “There, you will kill him.”

The shock was immediately evident on the face of the two beside you. Epel, who had been quiet throughout this entire exchange, finally broke his silence with a small gasp as he moved to cover his mouth with one hand. But it was too late, everyone had already heard him and seen his stunned expression. And yet, no one seemed to really care. Everyone was far too engrossed in what was just said by the king.

Rook appeared just as confounded before disbelief took root, as if he didn’t even wish to believe his own two ears. Removing his hat, he held it to his chest and lowered his head respectfully as he placed a hesitant foot forward. “Your Majesty, our beautiful and lovely Vil, you can’t possibly mean–– our prince Neige…!”

“Silence!” Immediately standing from his seat, he scowled, the prince’s name only making his rage more bitter. And then, he said something unexpected, something off script and never in the story. Gesturing to you, he hissed, “My loyal retainer here could make six souls vanish without a trace, why can’t you do it with one mere prince? Must they do everything? Must I have to dirty my own hands? Hm?”

Lowering his head further, the huntsman replied quietly, somberly, his smile now gone. “Of course not, Your Majesty. Your delicate hands aren’t meant to be soiled…” It’s as you suspected. Rook stayed alive and was one of Vil’s closest servants because he was witty enough to think of something on the spot that was complimentary enough to appease the bitter royal. At least, that’s what it seemed like at the moment. For now, you were grateful you weren’t him. Some people who read the story of Snow White liked to theorize that the huntsman was murdered by the vicious queen for failing to assassinate the princess.

Vil was quiet, not completely calm judging by his sneer but he was composed enough not to say anything more. Standing tall, his gaze honed in on you and Epel, to which he spoke, “My loyal, diligent retainer, escort my successor out. I need to have a word with Rook, privately.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

[first-edition]

Fox and the Hound

Sum-Joffrey wants to send a message to your family after your brother embarrasses him, so he marries you off to his most unwanted man in his court, the hound. But will this marriage truly be a statement for an eyesore, or will it grow into something more. 

Cw for chapter- pregnancy, 18+ words and themes overall. Slight angst, death of family member, THE PLAUGE, Smut, masterbation fem!, fingering. Let me know if i missed any.

// A/N: just wanted to apologize for the broken links at the beginning of the book since i changed my username they haven’t been working but i assure you I’ll get to fixing them. I will also end up making a goggle docs with the entire book for downloading when this series ends//

Read previous chapter here.

Youve taken the liberty into avoiding your mother and the new prince shes so kindly “gifted” you with. Youve gone out of your way to eat at different times, pass the halls at different times and even attend family duties separately. The month slowly passes as you count down the days sandor to arrive and sweep you away from this place or better yet put the new prince in his place. 

Your hope for him reaching you sooner rather than later rises at you notice your belly growing as your previous dress begin to tighter around your middle leaving you to advance to different dresses or removing the corsets that comes with it. Most nights your spend standing infront of the mirror viewing your body from the side. 

Despite the thought of supplying yourself for your babe you thought of nothing else but sandor. Where he could be, how far he could be, if hes safe. But there were also other thoughts, thoughts that embarrassed you but burned your cheeks as you though about them every waking moment. You replayed your shared nights in your mind and imagined what he'd do to you when you reunited. Those thought drove you into ecstasy at night. 

You starred up at the over post of your bed as your mid ran with images and feeling of sandor against and in you. You hand ran down the front of your body and to the hem of your nightdress before you pulled it up just enough for your fingers to reach your core. You moved your fingers in circles as you mimicked, how he touches you. Your other hand would grip your breast and massage it as you touched your self. You pushed one finger into your wanting cunt before adding a second then a third but nothing not even your own self pleasure could fully satisfy nor fill you the way your husband did. The way he kissed your sweet spots and discovered any and all part of yourself. Most of your nights would be a pillow between your cunt or or your fingers as you rode yourself into climax whispering out his name in wanting for him and only him. 

You'd always dream of you both whether it was risky or not you'd wake up crying once you revealed to yourself it was nothing but just that, a dream and he wasn't near you. Later those feverous nights turned to nightmares leaving you to wake screaming in fear that he was killed and never find his way back to you. Your guards posted outside your doors would run into your chambers in search of any danger but would only find you alone and sobbing, sending in your ladies to comfort you. 

The only thing that brought you and family back together again from the long silence you exposed was your father and half your city becoming sick. It had come on so suddenly the most modern of medicines were applied to him but nothing seemd to heal him. 

You sat by his side as you cross stitched and slept in his bed. 

“Wh-what are you m-making my dear?’ he asked weakly. You turn the draft twords him showing him an intricate flower. 

“Delightful.” he says you smile at him. You mother walks into the room holding another blanket and tea to hope for something to enter your fathers system. She places the blanket over your father before sitting next to him and helping him drink the tea. 

“Y/n..” you mother says looking up to you. You look back to her. 

“Ive arranged for Marco and your ladies to go north.” She says. 

“What.?” You ask. Putting your work down. 

“The meisters say the sickness does not touch the cold. So if you are there then yo are safe from its grasp. With the babe inside of you I cannot risk your demise.” She says taking your hand in hers. 

“Are you to join?” You ask her. She glances down at you hands before back up to you and shakes her head no. 

“But mother-“ you begin. 

“No buts. Do you understand.. i need to be here to take care of the city to take care of your father on his last days and i need you to be safe.” She says as tears well up in your eyes. 

“I will not go.” You say. 

”oh..y/n” your mother scoffs looking down glancing at your father but then double takes. 

“Harnold…” you mother speaks to him. You frown looking at your father in the bed. 

“Harnold?!” She exclaims she stand the teacup that was sitting on her lap falls shattering to the floor as she takes your fathers face in hand and begins to sob. 

“Get the meister.” You say standing telling joss. He runs out quickly. 

“Father!?” You call for him taking his hand the warmth slowly leaving it as both you and your mother cry. 

————

“Fucking whore.” Sandor barks out as he tries and fails to sew up the large bite mark the bounty hunter took to him. 

“You’re doing it wrong” Arya says as she cleans her sword. 

“Fuck off.” He huffs. 

“You need to burn away that bit there if you dont it will fester and youll die.” She says. sandor huffs and tries again but not being able to reach it. 

“I- i know you dont like fire but if i could just help you-“ Arya begins as she puts the mini sword down and gets up. 

“No fire.” Sandor huffs and tries once again now more irritated. Arya sighs and walks to the campfire she set up previously. 

“It’ll only take a second, and it wont hurt that mu-“ she pick. Up a small branch with fire on the end of it and being it to sandor. Seeing the flame in hand he stand quickly and back off yelling at her. 

“NO FIRE!” He frantically back off almost tripping over the rock he was just sitting on. Arya freezes before dropping the burning twig and kicking dirt over it putting it out. 

“Shut up about it! About everything. Im as stupid as that hog you fucking skewered back in that little village I should have never taken you with me. For what a little bag of silver. Fuck..i would be in volantis by now but instead im on bounty for the fucking Lannister’s.” Hound barks at her before taking back his seat. 

“You keep mentioning volantis, that where y/n is? Back home?” She ask sandor sighs and nods.

”why?” She asks. He looks twords her as another sigh leaves his chest. 

“She’s pregnant. Mine. We married” he says. Arya glances back at her sword before looking back to sandor. 

“Do you love her?” She asks. 

“What? Why does everyone keep asking me that.” He huffs. Arya chuckles. 

“Your fighting so hard to get back to her. The only type of man to do as much as you, with child or not, is one that loves his wife dearly. My mother told me that.” She says.

”mm” sandor grumbles. 

“So, do you?” She asks. Its quiet for a few patronizing seconds for sandor before he answers Turing his face away. 

“Yes.” He speaks a sneaky smile forms on aryas face before she begins the playful taunting. 

“She’s a princess you know, you married a princess, which would in turn make you a prince. Lannister bounty or not you are now of royal blood, your highne-“ 

“Oh shut the fuck up will you!” He exclaims making her giggle. The laughter dies out leaving her to speak once more. 

“Let me wash it out then. And sew it up for you at the least. No fire just water, needle and thread.” She clarifies. Sandor nods. Spray gets up and grabs the canteen of fresh water collected and makes her way to Sandor clearing away the blood with the water before getting to sewing up the deepest parts of the bite. 

“Let me know if im hurting you…your highness.” She snorts. 

“I will throw you off this cliff side girl mark my fucking words.” He holts to her. She shuts up and continues. 

————

With the plague spreading faster to imangine you joss, prince marco and several of your ladies make way twords the north. Your mother has arranged passage for you to stay near within the walls of castle black. You’re not used to cold and being 4 months pregnant may not be the safest but it is safer than succumbing to plague and dying a slow death. 

You sit across from Lucy and joss in the carriage. 

“We should make it within the month once we get to the port my lady.” Joss says. You rest your hand on your stomach. You nod to him. 

“How many day on sea?” You ask. 

27 my lady we will be docking at stonedance, Gulltown, and widows watch for short resupply and a careening.” He says. You nod as you look out the window. 

“I don’t want to leave what if he arrives.” You pester Lucy. 

“Than he shall meet us in the north once directed.” She replies. You chew on your lower lip as you watch the Mountain sides pass by

———

NEXT CHAPTER HERE

here the tag list if you’d like to be added comment below!

Taglist @stephyshadows@germansarechill@urfavbiscuit@daphneyblue@takemeaemond@holb32@allison-119@pxstelink@imsolonelyimissyou@myshitaccount@broadsdrinkwhisky@@evie-beanie@eulysa23-2@greeknymph18@rudiruds@ex160-blog1@im-an-assho1e@chompwoman@heartb8k2@lovely--lover ex160-blog1 @midnightprocrastinator

[crowberry62]

Hiii

Could you write something about the papas with a little that's really upset? Like just some comfort for the big sad 🥺

The papas comforting an upset little

Papa nihil

Super scared

Was not a super great dad to his previous kids so he doesn’t really know how to comfort littles

He brings you lots of treats and stuffies

If that doesn’t work then he gets copia or sister imperator to help

While they help calm you down he stands to the side very awkwardly

Papa i

Honestly he’s the best at comforting in general

He’ll take you out to his garden if you enjoy it

If your mindset is younger then he’ll do his best to put you in a swaddle

He may also bounce you up and down on his leg

Papa ii

He defiantly struggles with comforting someone who is in a younger mindset

He struggles with comforting anyone

He tries to figure out why your upset and how to put a stop to it

He’ll carry you around if it makes you feel better

Papa iii

He’s pretty good at comforting people

His method is to make you laugh

He try’s many different methods including tickles, funny faces, jokes, puppet shows and many more things

Papa iv

He’s defiantly not the best at it

He struggles with connecting to people when their upset

He’ll bring you some of rats

He’ll hold them up and pretend to make them talk

If that doesn’t work the he’ll bring In his ghouls

Note- sorry I’ve been gone for so long. I’ve been very uninspired and I’ve been struggling a bit with my own mental health. I hope you are doing well and I’ll try to post more<3

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

I'll crawl home to you II

Previous chapter

a/n I welcome you all to the part two. Thank you so much for all the love and reading. 🤍✨

summary: having a fight with someone you care about right before the mission might be the worst idea ever especially when you don't know if you'll make it out alive.

warning: fighting, guns, past trauma, injuries, blood lots of it, mentions of death, needles, IV's, bruised veins, heavy mention of hospitals, death nr.2, choking, nudity, mentions of sexual intoxications this one packs a punch so be weary.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"Right, what's on your mind?", you muttered, pushing the cigarette closer to Javi, which he happily took into his fingers before dragging in the smoke. Allowing the warmth of it to go down his lungs. Javi was sitting by the tub in his apartment. The tub that he used as a shower at best. He hated baths, hence his naked, sprawled-out form, right beside the bath and not in it. Not behind you. Even if he wanted nothing more than another handful of moments of holding you. But it was enough to just watch you like this for now. More than enough. Well, Javi was convinced that he was still riding the post-orgasmic high.

"Work", he muttered, dropping his head back before puffing a cloud of smoke, "That fucking lead is on my mind". Your eyes scanned him for a moment. Today had been one of those days where, besides the unbearable heat, so much shit went south that the screaming in the office didn't ease till 3 in the afternoon. A new record of everyone being pissed off at one another was achieved.

"And how many fucks does it usually take you till you forget about work?", you asked, leaning your head at the edge of the bathtub. Not caring about covering yourself up. Javi had already seen everything more than once. Although you are being pressed against his bedroom wall, with him deep within you, growling in your ear as he edged you closer to your orgasm now felt ages ago, your skin was already missing the feeling of his fingers.

"One", Javi muttered, and you couldn't help the chuckle that escaped your lips. "Shit, agent, I'm doing that bad of a job?". Just what Javi truly meant was that it took one carelessness. Chaotic fuck with you. For him to come back to his senses. If he was fucking a random whore, his head wouldn't settle at all. And it's not even about the sex here. Fuck that, even if it's good. It's you. The smell of you. The way you trace your fingers down his back while he's still deep inside you, panting as he catches his breath. It's the way Javi can feel your heartbeat beneath him. The way your warm skin is pressed against his own, and he finally feels it Feels what calmness feels like. What it feels like to stop and just be.

Javi splashes his face with cold water, shoving that moment as deep as he possibly could. Not now. Not like this. His hands are still stained pink. Fuck knew the blood didn't budge like that. But then he had never been covered in so much blood before. Your blood. His body stagers again. The hours spent in the hospital had been brutal. Javi's eyes fall on the bandage covering the place where they had punctured a needle only a couple of hours ago. Had it only been that? A couple of hours? Javi runs his hand through his hair.

"Get a doctor in here! Quick!", A pair of nurses rushed out; Javi jumped up, and Steve was right beside him. You had been in that room for no longer than thirty minutes. It was all okay, they said. Under control. This didn't feel like something that was under control. "What is going on?", Javi's voice sounded weak. Gone were the confidence and snarl. No, Javi doesn't remember the last time he felt so many emotions. He did not know that he was capable of them.

"What the fuck? Is. Going. On. ", Javi swiftly yanked a nurse rushing to go back inside by the collar. Steve moved to step in, but at that moment, even he knew that interfering meant finding your head in the wall in the next ten seconds. "She's rapidly losing blood and the hospital…", the woman took a moment to swallow, and Javi quickly shook her, "Our blood supplies are low, sir".

And just like the moment the bullet pierced your skin, Javi's world stopped spinning. Halted. Shutting down all of his senses before he's thrown back into the waiting room once more. No. This can't be the reason you die. Fuck all of it. He'll pay for every drop of blood. He'll get you the blood himself if he had to. Get you… "It's the same…", Javi gripped the nurse's hand even tighter, "Tell them it's the same. Put me in there".

And that whole procedure was a blur. Until you're only a hand's reach away. The machines were clacking all around. The number of wires and tubes sticking out of your body was crippling to the core, and the first time Javi's eye landed on you, he had to fight the bile rising in his throat. Then the shock faded, and the need to protect you rose. To hold you. The machine that Javi too was hooked to started beeping, indicating the rapid increase of his heartbeat. His head jerked up; suddenly he was scared it would disturb you too much. But your eyes don't shoot open, and you weren't grumbling at him for being too noisy, like some mornings.

Javi clenches his jaw. Tears now once again threatened to spill over his cheeks. And they do. But Javi doesn't brush them away. Who cares. No one is here. Just you. He can be venerable in front of you. "You will wake up, right?", he muttered, his hands reaching out to touch your limp fingers. The angle was awkward. And the nurse had strictly informed Javi not to move his hand too much. But fuck that. Fuck rules. Were they getting you both anyway? So Javi laces his fingers through yours, "You will wake up and snarl at me, will you? For being an ass", Javi bites down on his lips, suppressing the sob that is now right there at the peak of his throat, "And yet I won't tell you; I told you so this time. You just woke up, okay?"

Javi rips the bandage off, right as another wave of tears blurs his vision. The vein raptured, and the purple bruise was already forming. But he didn't care; he couldn't bring himself to care. It had been static nothingness after they walked him out of the room. Out and away from you. Javi clenches the sink angrily. The old thing rattles beneath his grip. He should have pushed harder. He should have never walked out because his stupid, manly pride was hurt. And he knows that if you don't… No, Javi chases that thought away. We manifest our thoughts. His pope always said to him growing up, Be careful of what you think, Javier.

"I was a pinch away from blowing his balls right there and then", the back door shuts with a bang as you stride towards Javi, who had been leaning against the wall for the past ten minutes. "Did you pull your gun?", Javi asks casually, as if that were a normal procedure for a Thursday night. "Pulled? It was up his nutsack," Javi snickers. Poor fuck crapped his pants for sure. Now he's almost upset that he didn't stick around to see that.

"What are you smiling for?", you snicker angrily, snatching a lighter from Javi's back pocket. Your left hand is shaking. With a mix of anger and strength, you probably held your gun. Javi takes the lighter back. The last thing he needs is for you to burn your hand now. "You amuse me", he admits when the cigarette finally catches the heat.

"Don't fuck with me, Pena. I might just pull the same stunt on you", you warn him, now feeling the shaking seep into your whole body. No matter how many times you went through the waves of adrenaline. The aftermath was never pretty. Javi pushes his cigarette against the brick wall and says, "Come here", You don't move, but his hand laces behind your neck, bringing your body closer to his chest. You don't fight it.

Letting the warmth of him envelop you. Your free hand clenches his shirt. It's such a small gesture. Simple one too. But it's all that you need. All it takes is for your body to budge, and you're not shaking anymore. It's like Javi just soaked up all of that bubbling within you in seconds: "Next time you pull a gun at any of them, keep me around", and Javi can hear your muffled laugh against his chest. And he's smiling. Truly smiling with you pressed tightly to his chest.

"The nurse said she'd be transferred soon", Javi nearly jumps at the sound of Steve's voice, which snatches him out of his head. Javi lost track of how many times he had told Steve to go home. Everyone did. Everyone left. Not that many stuck around for the hospital run in general. But Steve didn't budge. He was there. He stuck to very few or none of the comforting words. Connie hadn't even managed to drag him home. A part of Javi wanted to shove Steve out the door, but then again, he was glad that he wasn't alone.

"You know what that means?", Steve speaks up again. Pulling the neatly wrapped-up sandwich from behind his back, "I think it's time you eat just how you were instructed to". Javi glares at him before turning his attention back to the door. The door that leads to the room they were keeping you in: How were you doing? Did your body push through the transfer? Had they checked that you were stable? Double checked? Did triple-check?

"Come on, Javi, you don't want her…", Steve tries again. His voice is gentle and soft, and Javi hates it. His hands banged on the plastic chairs, sending a sharp sound down the empty hallway. "Stop fucking talking, Steve", Javi snarls; now his glare is all for his partner. "Shut up…", though the last words didn't sound even half as convincing. And Steve catches the crack. He catches sight of every tiny piece finally falling apart.

So Steve brings Javi closer into an embrace, and Javi is quick to push back instantly. Steve just doesn't let go. He's keeping Javi in a tight grip until the agent stops the fight; his shoulder's sagging and only the uneven breathing gives him away. "She will pull through", Steve states quickly, trying to keep his own emotions at bay. "You want to know why?", Javi only grips the back of Steve's jacket tighter: "Because she would crawl from hell itself for you. Because she loves you and she hasn't told you yet, and we both know our tiny girl is a farce".

And then he's back in your apartment. And he's walking back to you after using the bathroom when his eyes catch a glimpse of the picture. Multiple. But all of them have the same boy in them. Big eyes. Curly hair. And he's so similar to you. It's almost disturbing. Javi had seriously considered that you had a child there and then, and he knows it is noisy, but he snatches one of the frames as he heads back to the living room.

You're sprawled out like a cat on your sofa. Soft music is playing. Dirty dinner plates are still on the table. You're humming under your breath. Fuck, Javi doesn't remember the last time he heard someone hum, and a part of him wanted to keep that moment just like that. A part of him had shouted at him not to say anything, but… "Who's this?", the words slip past his lips, and your head instantly turns towards him. And he should have listened to his gut because the lazy smile fell from your face and you suddenly looked so small. So fragile.

"Michael", you mutter as you step closer to Javi, taking the frame from his hand, fingers skimming over the image frozen in time, "My brother. The only couple pictures I have left". The frown suggests that it's something that still hunts you. That still aches. "You don't see your family much?", Javi asks as if he can judge, as if he flies back home often or even calls. Yeah, no. Javi avoids home like the plague, and then the said home returns the favor. "Nothing to visit", the sad chuckle that follows your words strikes Javi.

"I'm…", he starts, but you had already turned towards him. "Sorry? You pity me. You're surprised I'm still here? Or maybe you're disappointed?". Javi crosses the distance between you and quickly catches both of your elbows. "No…", his words die down, and you're laughing again, just this time your eyes are full of tears. You sure?", you say bitterly before dropping your hands over your face, salty tears still streaming down the side of your face.

"Y/n… carino…", And Javi doesn't remember the last time he called out to someone in such a soft manner. He doesn't remember the last time his own heart dropped to his heels for someone. And you're crying, and Javi can't stand it. Because you shouldn't be, because instantly he wants to make it better. "Hey, come here; you're not alone. Shh…" And equally as much, Javi almost doesn't know how to comfort you because Javi never does that. It's always others who do the comforting, who splatter encouraging words.

"But I am. I'm so alone", The sob that slips past your lips makes Javi close his eyes for a moment because the shared agony of it rips through his own heart. Javi wraps his arms tighter around you, fingers running through your hair as you wrap yourself around his neck. Holding onto him as if your whole world now depends upon him. If Javi chose to move, you would crumble. Crumble beyond repair. "You have me", he mutters, but then the anxiety of commitment kicks in and he finds himself adding, "And Steve, and Connie", he doesn't mention Carillo. At first, he's not sure why his tongue doesn't twist to say it, but does it matter? It would be for selfish reasons one way or another.

"They killed them", you rasp out in between catching your breath. Javi pushes away the strands of hair that are now stuck to your face because of the tears. "Dad fucked up a deal, so they came to butcher them all in front of my eyes", you continue, looking up at Javi with desperation. Did no one believe you when you told them what happened? Did anyone ever listen? "I hid in the closet and then…", another sob slips past your lips. "I just saw him, purple face, big eyes, they choked…", and you crumble, legs bucking beneath you, but Javi is there with you. Bringing you even closer as he sways from side to side. Your nails are digging into his flesh, but he doesn't care. Whatever he can do to ground you and calm you down, Javi is willing to do it. "I've got you, carino", he mutters, pressing his lips to your temple, trying to keep his composure, to keep strong because now you need him. And he'll crawl out of his own grave if he had to, just to make sure that you are okay.

"Sir", the voice that doesn't fit the memory cuts through his head. "Sir", it rings, and Javi snaps his eyes open. An elderly woman is standing in front of him, her hand braced on his shoulder, as she attempts to wake him. "It's past 3 a.m., and the visiting hours are long over", she starts, and Javi is once again filled with rage. Try, he thinks, you just try to walk me out. "They transformed her into room 337; I can let you in. You can rest there", Javi blinks a couple of times, convinced that he had heard it wrong. It's against the hospital rules, and the confusion on his face tells the lady that he's trying to find a catch for this.

"Is your name by any chance Javi?", she asks right as Javi stands up. How does she know? He had said his name when he handed you to the sea of doctors and nurses. They had marked his name for the blood transfer, but he hadn't seen this woman in any of the rooms. "Miss. Y/L/N had called out for Javi a couple of times", and he has to both keep himself up so he doesn't sink to his knees and stop himself from running down the hallway. Are you awake? Have you been fully conscious? Why were you calling for him? Is it because you hate him? Or do you want him to be there?

"She's stable; however, with a blood loss like that, I'm sure she will be out for a couple of days", the lady says, and Javi only nods. He probably looks like a maniac there. He is barely managing to stay still, trying not to overstep as he constantly slows his pace to match the nurses.

She walks straight through the door, but Javi halts. You're a door away. You're there, and he will get to see you. But can he see you? Will he be able to look at you without hating the whole world? And most importantly, himself? Yet he does, and you are in there. Still pale as a sheet of paper, but it's only the wires and IVs that surround you. Someone had neatly brushed your hair, and it's not an absolute tangled mess like it was in the emergency room. No, it almost looks like you're lying in… Javi closes his eyes.

"You can talk to her. She should be able to hear you. It'll calm her anxiety and give her something to hold onto", the woman either doesn't notice that Javi is slowly losing it or is great at hiding it as she checks over the machines before turning back to him. "Just catch some sleep yourself, son", she says softly, patting his shoulder just like she did in the hallway. "The emergency button is here, but her heartbeat is strong and steady. I doubt you'll need to use it", that soothes some of Javi's worries, but there are so many of them that it almost feels like nothing. Javi keeps standing till the nurse slips out the door, and then he reaches for the chair, pulling it closer to your bed.

"Hey", Javi mutters, his fingers carefully brushing over your hand. There are so many needles and things poking you that he's almost hesitant to do so. So scared of hurting you more. Making it worse than it already is. Javi let his eyes settle on your face, then down to your chest, watching it move up and down. Up and down. Up and down. Steady. He brings your knuckles closer to his lips. There's still blood under your nails, but he doesn't care. "I miss you already", Javi admits, waiting for an answer he knows he won't get. He nestles his head on your legs, takes your hand into his, and just hopes.

[fictionfixations]

going through 2.5

2.5 STORY SPOILERS

trigger warning later of minor character death. shown off screen but is described in a way that could sound horrible to the faint of heart

WHAT

i know i joked in my previous post when going through 2.4 that it sounded like the start of a fanfiction but im genuinely disgusted by this ew i was really fucking tempted to just write a fic where jiaoqiu beats his ass (even though i know hoolay is way more powerful then him) but also 2.5 already came out so i gotta get through the story before i get spoiled

the smart choice would be to do 2. but also fuck you hoolay im doing 1. HHH jiaoqiu's voice sounds so like. stressed. like trying to have composure but you can tell hes struggling a little.

also im sorry but hoolays human form looks so fucking ugly (okay maybe im biased but also FUCK YOU HOOLAY) idk ppl might still simp for him but also fuck you im on jiaoqius side >:(

STOPPP USING THE WORD ALPHA like ive heard it so many times in media im DONE i cant hear it the same 😭

"💀 " "None Can Hurt Me" UHHMSOFJFO i sure hope nothing happens to you buddy but

BURN BABY BURN

what the fuck im scared

wait but so i CAN go try to get help? IM SCARED WHAT HAPPENS. uh. uh. uh. FUCK YOU HOOLAY IM DOING IT

wait if i do this will he die. like the the the npc?!?!??!?! GUYSS

AHAHa.. AHgahah.... im. so fucing nervous

im. ohhhh fuck literal chills. im. should i look at what other options i can do to escape or. im so fucking stressed holy shit. logically speaking if jiaoqiu leaves and the ship gets sabotaged or whatever he could die (both him and npc). if he asks him to send a message then the npc will die. guys i hate this what the fuck

I HATE THAT ITS RED TEXT. okay with acheron it was a little startling but we never got like a warning that OUR ACTIONS have CONSEQUENCES. im so fucking scared

me too man. me too. idont want jiaoqiu to die thoguh what if what we choose changes whether or not he dies in canon im

okay ive talked to everyone. and the warning text for everyone is

the skarskiff(?) guy is just an ordinary person the realm keeping person is not prepared for this kind of emergency and that the cloud knight doesnt have backup (has the same choice options as the realm keeping person of borisin are here and introducing ourself)

also that we're being watched. who the fuck

okay the best option would be to cloud knight. but also is it a good idea? no. but. hiusgh. oh my god i hate this.

IM GOING TO BITE THE BULLET. i dont trust that this will end well for me but the logical option even if i get fucked later is to alert someone. a cloud knight knows what risks and responsibilities they're taking on by becoming one and if they die well fuck man but i REFUSE to just not do anything because that'd be like. playing into hoolays hands which 1. i hate him. 2. as a person who very much values my independence I NEED OUT OF THIS SITUATION

and maybe its what hoolay wants, for us to fail his 'test' but whatever. IM REBELLIOUS. (and probably really dumb)

cant wait to see how this affects story in the future. and also seeing how different choices affect things when i watch other people do this. haha. but predicting that they might not talk to anyone out of fear IM going to talk to someone

uhh im going to introduce myself first. its like how you're meant to share your address first in emergencies or something i think maybe? because if the call cuts out then they can find you quickly (i think your phone can be tracked but it takes awhile its not that easy i think?)

okay i did it. wheres the guy who was watching me i cant remember where he was. is he gone? did he disappear? i acnt tell im so fuckings tressed

nothing happened but. but the cloud knights gone now (presumably to spread the news)

i. do i tell other people ? do i. im. okay im

i only talked to the cloud knight. and then im going to do what hoolay asked. thats it. im not brave or reckless enough to tell eVEryone

HIS VOICE IS TREMBLING for the 100th time i hate this

GUH

I FORGOT THEY HAVE OFFICIAL IDENTITIES PRETENDING TO BE--

oh fuck MY DUMBASS

his voice... AGHH JIAOQIUUU

GO FUCK YOURSELF YOURE NOT THE BOSS OF ME

i knew it. i fucking knew it. IM JUSTIFYING IT TO MYSELF BECAUSE CLOUD KNIGHT YOU BECOME IT KNOWING YOU COULD DIE OKAY. id rather have tried to escape then not at all and prove his racist belief 'right'. okay i know im probably in the wrong because they couldve lived if i didnt do anything and i had a hunch that they wouldve died if i asked for help. but. okay at my core i am selfish. and for all i knew there was a teeny tiny chance that it couldve succeeded

and listen. im quoting twisted wonderland now.

"Zero is zero no matter what you multiply it by, right? But if you take some form of action, that zero could potentially become 0.001. And 0.001 has a chance of becoming 100. In which case, there's no reason NOT to do it." (Book 6 - Chapter 48 • A Sequel Cut Short)

i hate these kinds of mind games.

hoolay fucking yapping and i know we're in a tough situation meant to demonstrate how jiaoqiu's kind of powerless but hoolays just talking about how jiaoqiu will eventually crumble and im just. yeah okay big talk. and like i get that hoolay does have connections still and ppl pretending to be foxians keeping a close eye on everything and genuinely wont hesitate to kill someone but okay i just hate him

god he sounds like one of those people who are like. when you refuse their advances and they go 'oh so youre playing hard to get huh?' and keep going with the belief that we definitely want them or some shit💀

i should pretend. but no i cant. thats not the kind of person i am.

oh shit. yeah okay remind me that maybe this could potentially lead to jiaoqiu dying in canon. i mean. its happened in npc stories before right? like that one person in penacony who we could choose to stop her from falling or let her fall

but fucking OW. hoolay talking doesnt terrify me. and maybe thats why im choosing all the dumb options. but ow.

does he have this pose if we pretend to show weakness? i mean maybe its cause we got hurt and hes exaggerating it and showing weakness then. or maybe it actually hurts like a bitch and he cant help but show reaction.

OMG MOZE

okay actually other idea of jiaoqius plan. contacting someone for help and deliberately being caught so its not suspicious if we go along with his demands too easily (but having another plan to get help thats more secret)

like okay i know it was my choice to try to get help and fucking it up but still canon-like right. although i doubt he'd be okay sacrificing an innocent life so um oops

AHHH FUCKING LITERAL CHILLS. we got jiaoqiu flashback where he was like a healer on the battlefield. i dont think im saying that right i forgot what theyre called. but like remember feixiao mentioning in 2.4 how jiaoqiu healed her, and later became her like main healer or something something i forget the wording

and then it goes black and we hear hoolays voice. i have a little hunch that it might be the thing to stop the lupitoxin's effects starting to fade, nad thus the toxin starting to affect him

hh his voice... :(

yeah okay so let us go

sorry did he just bite someone and they turned into a borisin or did it just get rid of the guys disguise

i wasnt paying attention to who it was. i know it wasnt mok tok (different appearance, also it showed jiaoqiu turning away to not see it and mok tok standing there while that was happening)

its genuinely so confusing trying to tell who is a foxian and whose a borisin cause disguises but i assume its an actual borisin who was disguised...

hes talking to moze but all i can hear is monke from ben's stream (aka moze's EN VA LMFAO)

OH IT WAS A NORMAL FOXIAN

what if he does it on jiaoqiu but then they figure out how to turn jiaoqiu back to normal and learn how to cure feixiao. right? right??? probably not but im so stressed

HOLY SHIT JIAOQIU. he sounds so.. wrung out. exhausted.

acting is fucking 10/10 he sounds kind of unhinged but in the slow still exhausted but with emphasis on some of the words?? like. like he still has fight in him. i dont know how to explain this but its really cool

oh shit does he die now

hooly fucking shit literal chills the text appearing on the black screen actually like communicating in a way to us and helping us get an idea of whats going on

okay major manga spoilers for demon slayer. but here is my next prediction: he has poison in his blood that will affect the borisins if they drink it, like how shinobu kocho had like a shit ton of wisteria in her blood (it was also under her fingernails and shit like that, she put it EVERYWHERE) so that when douma (who killed her sister) ate her he'd be poisoned and severely weakened

AM I RIGHT??

I. FUCKING. KNEW ITTTTTT

okay well it was pretty obvious because right before it mentioned the green peppers(?) thing and how to get a picky child to eat it, it re-mentioned that conversation. and then changed it how to get a wolf to something something i already forgot so it was obvious

but JIAOQIU LETS GOOOO i really hope you didnt die

no wait but shit

okay so i cant share any more images i hit the limit on tumblr but okay so if he consumed poison (ist tumbledust. i already forgor. was it like the thing thats like a sedative thats good in small quantities but lethal in large quantities? or was that like yabruh or something)

does that mean he'll die anyway or

i dont think jiaoqiu said it in front of hoolay but anyway im so unhappy that cutscenes lag for me (hoolay immediately clocks on that it was probably jiaoqiu who poisoned him but sdhfuf. this MEANS that hoolay drank JIAOQIUS BLOOD?!?!?!?!? is he DEAD??? )

also i HATE the hoolay fight im struggling so bad ahuisdhdisuad

YANQING LETS FUCKING GOOOOOO (boutta trigger hoolays jingliu trauma)

im sorry for accusing you of being a disguised borisin, sparkle traumatized me ok (and im sorry for pinching your cheeks in 2.4 being cautious of if you were a fake but also i didnt know that was what that option meant)

you were just acting really weird so i got stressed but LETS GOOOO

WHAT WE'RE FIGHTING HIM AGAIN????? YOURE FUCKING WITH ME

oh shit feixiao boss fight

heyy her character. trailer?? i think thats what it was called teased this. like cause she got drunk and couldnt recognize jing yuan and fought him (briefly)

YANQING FUCKING POPPED OFF THIS STORY

i (think) all thats left is feixiao boss fight that we saw in the livestream

some stuff. ill do wardance later. but im gonna end this post here. havent gotten to the end but i dont think ill have anything else to share and i dont have space here anyway so brr

OH FINALLY I CAN ACCESS DIFFICULTY MODES

AND YOU CAN CHOOSE THEM WHILE IN STORY OH THANK FUCK casual mode my precious

okay we figfhting preceptor oh

dan heng: the oath of the alliance doesnt matter to me because im not a part of the alliance anymore *attacks*

me using imbitior lunae dan heng in battle: uh. uh. uh. uhm. YEP

anyway jiaoqius alive (he almost died though)

he sounds so more subdued :(

HOLY SHIT HES BLIND? OH MY GOD thats both better and worse than i thought

OH MY GOD TINGYUN

i was so confused on ruan mei appearance but OH MY GOD

[roykiller07]

idk if anyones done this yet but i translated the fine print on bills soul contract 👍👍👍 its under the break in case its considered spoilers

you are now twenty one grams lighter

this contract is legal and binding[] we reserve the right to use your likeness[] face[] voice and small town pluck in whatever nefarious manner is deemed necessary[] sans soul[] your soulmate will not recognize you and will walk right past you on a cold autumn day[] never making eye contact[] not even processing that you have eyes at all[] no amount of interaction will move them to a place where they can remember[] in feeling[] the thousands of lifetimes you have already spent together[] each time choosing whatever form would keep you closest like otters holding hands in a tumultuous river[] you were birds[] you were trees with roots entangled[] drinking in the sunlight together[] []wherever we go next[] whatever you choose[] i will always be right there with you[][] thats done[] buddy[] congratulations[] you have chosen bill instead[] mcdonalds reserves the right to put a giant yellow m on your torso and forehead and send you walking through a crowded times square while you scream []the fries[] the fries[] they don[]t degrade in nature[][][] it[]s an immortal food[][][] they will be in the landfills long past our deaths[][] good god[] the things s i[]ve seen[] me[] who am i[] oh i[]m bill[]s previous lawyer[] he put my soul into a quill pen so i can write his legal documents until the sun snuffs out like a candle in this sick universe[] i used to be so hot[] i was so fine[] now i[]m fine print[] speaking of which[] bill reserves the right to put your soul into an inanimate object[] a strange creature[] a concept[] a sentence[] a tasteful but rustic mason jar with wildflowers in it[] if at any point you wish to have visitation rights with your soul[] you will be swiftly denied[] unless you had a cool day planned for the both of you[] then bill might want to come along[] by signing this document you forfeit any rights to eating soul food[] it will turn to ash in your mouth[] a fitting punishment for a fool who squandered the only true gift life owes you[] bill reserves the right to dress your soul however he deems necessary[] especially if your soul was a nerd before acquisition[] soulmakeoverrr[] your soul may become fractured and placed into different objects[] this has no purpose and will not resurrect you if you die[] signee has forfeited all rights to any afterlife[] including but not limited to[] heaven[] hell[] purgatory[] big corner[]flow state[] the dream house[] the reincarnation processing center[] axolotl[]s tank and consequences hole[] signee can no longer board any soul train and is advised to discard all bellbottoms[] signee can no longer have a puppy as a best friend[] they can sense what is gone[] cats are indifferent[] signee can experience occasional demon possessions from horculus the red[] plabos the merciless[] morbus son of mortem[] plaga the oozing and other such common demons roaming earth searching for weakened[]empty vessels[]tips for ripping your soul out at home[] watching youtube commentary channels[] attending an extended family event with an open bar[] using generation ai and asserting that you are creative[] turning a blind eye to human suffering[] amassing more wealth than needed[] purchasing a blue checkmark

i didnt feel like interpreting the punctuation (which is all just rectangles on the og document). it is translated letter by letter so if it seems like i forgot a space or wrote a letter where there shouldnt be its because it was like that in the original. pls let me know if u think i achsually made a mistake !!!!!

ive been translating everything i can and ill post the rest if ppl want but i felt like everything else was small enough anyone could translate it, this one was just long enough a lot of ppl wouldnt wanna bother 😋

i believe the code to get this image is: NAITSUAF

[beguilingcorpse]

hi!!! its been a while since ive read the books, and im not sure if im remembering right, but when silas uses his necromancy is colum able to move? fight? or is being used as a battery so blistering overwhelming that he can only stand there and breathe? i remember colum fighting ianthe but that was the thing possessing him, no?

anon i am so so sorry that it took me so long to respond to this ask. in my own defense i reread all of gideon the ninth to do it. just for u <3

colum in fact cannot move while being siphoned - the first time silas does it is after abigail and magnus are found dead, and colum is described as “still standing, but he was breathing more shallowly” (gtn us paperback p. 190). when cytherea collapses and protesilaus punches silas, colum still can’t move: “Strangely enough, Colum the Eighth did not even react. He just waited greyly next to Protesilaus like concrete, as Protesilaus stood over Colum’s floored uncle, sword held at the ready. They both looked like crude sculptures of men” (p. 191)

even AFTER they bring abigail’s and magnus’s bodies up the ladder, colum is STILL unresponsive: “Harrowhark’s skeletons could climb a ladder, even bearing wrapped corpses, but Colum the Eighth did not respond to pleas, threats, or physical stimulus. He was slightly less grey than previous, but he had to be hauled up bodily by Corona and Gideon” (p. 193)

so yes! whatever moves colum at the end of gtn is not him - his soul is completely and utterly gone. he couldn’t have moved if he’d wanted to. whether his soul was consumed or simply displaced is another thing…… but that’s a separate post ;)

[rakkuntoast]

hi i underestimated the lenght of this post but here's some q!philza rambling and thoughts about his current arc and lore cuz im kinda insane and i havent been the same person since the birdcage arc started

seeing qphil slowly but surely losing himself has been definetly something, its just an impending event that its taking too long to happen, there's gotta be some point where he breaks

cuz all this birdcage and missing eggs arc has been nothing but him feeling lost, losing his own purpose and place in the island, losing his sense of reality, he feels like a former shell of himself, always wandering around with nowhere to go or reason to BE there, yk? like he's experiencing some hard derealization symptoms its constantly affecting the way he approaches things, the way he approaches people. the empty stares when he saw the parrots or when he heard the thunder, it genuenly feels like he relapses back to that, like he lost all confidence in himself

constantly brushing off the birdcage as a dream, choosing to ignore the glaring red herrings that point into it actually happening (the weird vine, the trees, the avocado sapling, the trail of birds leading to the place, the indestructible grass, the weird blue vine, the toucans) and try to minimize whatever happened to him, not even thinking more about the feathers in his ticket... like just now he feels like he's a target, a part of something grander yet he doesnt believe that himself

ive said this before i think but qphil is one of those parents that had the least going on apart from taking care of his kids, yk? his only purpose was just to be there for his kids and be a hermit but now with them gone and no clue to where they could be he just feels hopeless and empty. like if dont grab him he'll dissapear, just something about him saying that he doesnt know where he should go anymore and that he feels so drawn to uppies now,,, just slowly starting to isolate from everyone else

is this the test quackity was talking about? is the world testing how long will phil endure the constant taunting before going insane? before choosing to isolate himself and leave everyone behind?

it feels like whatever is going on with him and now the special ticket he got is part of something more grander that his character is part of, something that somehow leads to a connection with quackity. feels like we're missing something crucial that will fit the piece that is missing with him, that explains the sudden involvement he now has and why they decided to fuck with his mind, to make him doubt himself in purpose. something that makes it so they are suddenly so interested in him

like yeah the whole bird thing is a huge possibility but why??? is he an experiment? is he patient zero of the hybrid experiments? is he a previous resident that escaped and then came back? why now focus on the whole crow hybrid thing now??? does he have a previous connection with the feds like jaiden and baghera have or is he like quackity and the feds are actively fucking with him

[alienatedtsuki]

Best of Modern AU Part IV [Smut Edition]

Hi! I am indeed alive; I've just about finished recommending all the Naruto fanfiction I wanted. I recently started reading danmei (I've already read "Heaven Official's Blessing," "Scum Villain's Self-Saving System," "Devil Venerable Also Wants to Know," and "Mistakenly Saving the Villain"). In this blog, I will recommend fanfics from these fandoms in the future.

This post is about a Modern AU where Naruto and Sasuke are switches (smut of godly quality). Truth be told, this is my favorite dynamic.

Mine by Skyheaven @0skyheaven0

Even the most satisfying of relationships can be tainted by insecurity and jelaousy. The best thing to do is to talk about it. Or just beg him to fuck you in a car. But maybe that's just Naruto's great idea.

Part 4 of a series. Here for the plot? Read the previous. Here for the smut? Come on in! - I already recommended this series in my Kinktober post; it is just logical to recommend this extraordinary continuation as well. In this one, Sasuke tops for the first time but finds he prefers being under Naruto more.. SasuNaru/NaruSasu | First time Topping | Car Sex | Oral Sex | Semi-Public Sex | Public Sex | Switching (12,749)

--------- Next fics are all written by amazing @missoblaine / MissOblaine. I love her style of writing so much; there is just so much power behind her words, I can't even describe it.

It Started in a Closet by MissOblaine / @missoblaine

Series about Naruto and Sasuke finally getting together and it started indeed in a closet. SasuNaru/NaruSasu | Highschool AU (36,170)

1. Deep and Meaningful by MissOblaine / @missoblaine

“Shove over, idiot,” came a smooth baritone and before Naruto could protest that this was his closet and he found it first and there were plenty of other good closets in this massive house, said figure squeezed in opposite him, kicked Naruto's legs aside to make room for his own, dropped an extra bottle of alcohol and dragged the door shut. In the enclosed space of the closet, Naruto was overwhelmed by the scent of fruit and leather. Sasuke Uchiha. He’d recognise that fucking schmancy cologne anywhere.

Naruto and Sasuke find themselves in a closet together hiding from their exes at Ino’s 18th birthday party. It gets real slutty real quick. - Naruto finally has his gay awakening! He realizes how much he appreciates the male body, especially Sasuke's.

SasuNaru | Soft Dom Sasuke - read as - Smitten Sasuke | Closet Sex (only blowjobs) | Gay Awakening | Oral Sex | Facials | Cum Play | Cockslut | Highschool AU (7,213)

2. Down to Fuck by MissOblaine / @missoblaine

“You think Kiba’s already told everyone?” Naruto asked, his breath rushing across Sasuke’s neck, causing him to shiver in a way that Naruto found fucking delightful. Sasuke tch’d. “Let him. I don’t care.” As soon as the door closed behind them, Naruto was on Sasuke, crowding him back against the door and leaning in to capture his lips. “God, you really are cock-drunk, aren’t you?” Sasuke said in that same low voice that went straight to Naruto’s dick.

Somehow, in hiding from their ex-girlfriends in a closet at Ino Yamanaka’s 18th birthday, they’d gone from rivals to ex-rivals, Naruto Uzumaki was now a newly awakened masochistic cockslut, Sasuke Uchiha was a sexy dominant freak and they were now, supposedly, down to fuck.

A follow up to Deep and Meaningful (aka the slutty closet romp). It gets sluttier. -

The author's summary pretty much covers it, but Naruto increasingly wonders why it all feels so natural to him. SasuNaru | Soft Dom Sasuke - read as - Smitten Sasuke | Sub Naruto | Top Sasuke | Bottom Naruto | Sex Toys | Edging | Rough Sex | Mirror Sex | First Time Bottoming | Highschool AU (7,007)

3. Different Strokes by MissOblaine / @missoblaine

Naruto was lying between Sasuke’s legs on the padded floor of the cinema room, watching some Christopher Nolan movie called ‘The Prestige’ on the giant projector screen. Sasuke’s chest was warm against his back, his arms lazily wrapped around Naruto’s waist, and they were surrounded by empty instant noodle packets—the dry kind that you eat like chips. Oh—and also Sasuke had one hand down Naruto’s borrowed plaid pyjama pants, loosely wrapped around his cock, stroking absentmindedly while Naruto tried his best to follow the plot of the non-linear movie. Just an ordinary movie night. Yup.

After their closet blowjobs and hot sex, Naruto and Sasuke have a movie night and switch things up. It's filthy and it's soft and dumbass Naruto realises something he should've realised a long time ago. - Their dynamic evolves into something much more than just sex. It is shown as a natural progression and is pure delight to read. SasuNaru | Powerbottom Sasuke | Top Naruto | Sex Toys | Rimming | Cumeating | Riding | Idiots in Love | Movienight | Highschool AU (9,296)

4. Damn Straight by MissOblaine / @missoblaine

“The carpet is fucking ugly,” Sasuke Uchiha muttered from Naruto Uzumaki’s elbow as soon as they stepped through the grand glass doors of their school formal behind the rest of their group. “Look at it,” Sasuke scoffed derisively, running the toe of his fancy dress shoe along one cream-coloured swirl in the burgundy carpet. “Who the fuck thought this colour scheme was a good idea?” “Of course that’s the first thing you notice about a place like this,” Naruto said with an eye-roll. He went to punch his boyfriend’s shoulder playfully but Sasuke slapped his wrist away and looped his arm through his instead and goddammit—Naruto just about melted into that ugly carpet. “You’re staring, idiot.”

Two months after that fateful night in the closet, Naruto and Sasuke attend their Year 12 Formal. - This is the end of the series, and it's just perfect—also set in a closet, both slutty and lovely. SasuNaru | Soft Dom Sasuke - read as - Smitten Sasuke | Sub Naruto | Top Sasuke | Bottom Naruto | Slutty Naruto | Idiots in Love | Oral Fixation | Oral Sex | Closet Sex | Semi-Public Sex | Sex Toys (12,654)

lavender prose by MissOblaine / @missoblaine

Sasuke is a writer. Naruto is a reader and an artist. - I'm at a loss for words to describe it; it stirred something in me that made me want to sit down and create afterward. It is so HOT, but also, I love every single line of dialogue in both of these fics. It's the power of art behind smut, if I can put it that way. This is NaruSasu only, but we also see the power a sub can hold. NaruSasu | Writer Sasuke | Artist Naruto | College/Uni AU (19,913)

1. turn my pages gently (read me like a paperback) by MissOblaine / @missoblaine

Slowly—too slowly—Naruto traced up and down Sasuke’s knuckles, caressing each finger, skipping across his bones. Sasuke’s fingers twitched—he wanted to grip Naruto’s hand, to pull him closer, to take more, but, as if sensing it, Naruto’s fingers slid up the back of his hand and circled his wrist lightly, holding, commanding—stay—he seemed to say. And Sasuke obeyed. With his other hand, Naruto reached for his Kindle. “It’s just us here,” he said softly. “You said you wanted to read good smut.” He tapped on the screen and pushed it towards Sasuke. “Here. This one’s my favourite.” Sasuke nodded, pulled it closer with his other hand, not wanting to withdraw from Naruto’s touch, when suddenly the blond’s expression changed into something playful yet predatory. “Read it aloud.”

Naruto reads smut in a stylish library. Sasuke is the night shift librarian. The topic of Hysterical Literature and smutty fanfiction comes up and Naruto has a sexy voice and wicked ideas. - NaruSasu | Writer Sasuke | Artist Naruto | Dom Naruto | Sub Sasuke | | Verbal Bondage | Semi-Public Sex | Library Sex | Voice Kink | Praise Kink | Under-desk Blowjobs | College/Uni AU (11,749)

2. cover me in colours (let me be your canvas) by MissOblaine / @missoblaine

In the centre of it all, sitting on one of the paint-stained tables, confidence radiating off him, was Naruto. His dandelion blond hair was tousled in a way that was so gorgeous it almost seemed manufactured, like he’d deliberately styled it to look like a sexy bedhead but Sasuke knew it was genuine because . . . well, it was Naruto. He was genuine to a fault. There were even streaks of red and orange paint on Naruto's cheeks, sideways slashes like coy little whiskers, as if he was a fey or a shapeshifter, come to tempt Sasuke. The wickedness at the edges of his smile didn’t help either, the sharp tilt that whispered, i’ve been dreaming about fucking you. Sasuke wasn’t one for flowery descriptions in his writing. His style, even in poetry, tended towards sparse, but Naruto—and only Naruto—drew Sasuke’s mind to metaphor and the mythic.

Sasuke visits Naruto at the art studio after hours. He’s stressed about his writing and Naruto has a wicked and messy idea on how to take care of him. - NaruSasu | Writer Sasuke | Artist Naruto | Dom Naruto | Sub Sasuke | | Cockwarming | Subspace | Verbal Bondage | Body Paint | Semi-Public Sex | Mirror Sex | College/Uni AU (8,164)