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ladythornofrivia · 28 days ago

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Lady with Teal Eyes || Aemond x Aunt!Hightower Reader (Part Four)

author’s note: i hope S3 of HOTD gets better.

warnings: incest, cockwarming, teasing, sucking, p in v, rough play, flirting, wholesome moment, jealous aemond, possessive, roughness, mild manhandling, mild degradation, unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex, second hand embarrassment, dark content, mentions of su*cide, Aemond being too touchy with his aunt, degradation, humiliation.

summary: Aemond meets his aunt for the first time, and there’s more than meets the eye.

The dreams had sprung again.

But in the voiceless abyss was a never-ending sprout of chilling winter.

You have dreamt of your unknown past, smothered in cold darkness. Raindrop voices plopped onto your ears, the wind spoke in hush. Like water, it slithered and drowned in your clear, lulling thoughts. An endless realm of dreamless abyss. Terrible as it was, you somehow found odd comfort.

Prayers were answered in dreams, but comes with a cost in life.

Dreams is a preferably escapade among others, among passions and desires and distractions.

Every night, your prayers sent before went straight to bed, gazing at a low glow of candle light, a little flame brightened before your tired eyes. Within the flames, it almost felt as if the flame spoke to you, a message that is hidden beneath the flicker, a little flicker that warms the nightfall.

A voice hollered.

(Y/n), (y/n)…

(Y/n).

(Y/N), IF ONLY YOU HAVE NEVER BEEN BORN!

A flash of the tallest tower struck another flash, a faceless woman in teal nightgown fell from the window and dove into the deep shores, washing the banes and blesses of life. The figure blended into the watering depths.

In other dreams, you saw your father abandoned you, crowning Alicent as the new queen of Westeros, right beside the crying Rhaenyra, betrayed and broken, after her mother’s death. Even in dreams, you are jealous of a young Rhaenyra free address, an expressing her of dissatisfaction against the likes of your father’s schemes and tricks for the foolish king to be a once again fool. A fool of a Targaryen is a fool’s downfall, and within that downfall is also yours—stagnant and cruelly poorer. Poorer than a peasant, poorer than a hound starved, poorer than infants dying on their mother’s breast, like a cold winter’s night, white naught of the cold beasts and Others. A long dead of night is what hungered the realm’s downfall.

Your downfall.

A curse has been born from dreams.

And you are still.

~*~

Your dressed shredded and torn apart by your husband, the prince dragon himself. Moans and groans and smothered sweat permitting in the cold air. Despite the cold air, their heated love is eternal.

Aemond’s lips parted to a long moan, pressing it against your flushed skin. Since wedded by the Weirwood tree and a septon, you felt the happiest moment in your life, where the dragon prince provided you with comfort and welcoming to fill in the halls.

Your mind erased the negligence and the isolation that your family has put you through.

“Aemond,” you whined, clutching your hands behind his neck. “I need you.”

“My sweet princess,” he murmured, kissing you on the lips, his indigo-stoned eye gleamed in a dimmed candlelight. “I’m here. I won’t go anywhere.”

The silver glint on his ring finger stared back at you as Aemond reached his hand out to cup you face.

“I’m here, my love,” he said to you, kissing you once more as his hips thrusted forward—fast and harsh, until his hot seed spilled inside you.

As he laid down beside you, his arm wrapped around your frame and hauled you against him.

“Something on your mind, my sweet?” he murmured.

“Nightmares…” you said, snuggling against him.

“What of them?”

You sighed. “I hear voices in my sleep. They were screaming at me. And I hated it. And I found myself drowning into the ocean. It was cold and dark, and I’m frightened. I don’t know how to swim.”

His grip tightened. “I’ll keep you away from the waters.”

“I heard a woman’s voice,” you continued. “And I couldn’t figure out who was it.”

“It is normal to have these dreams,” he said.

“Almost everyday?” you questioned.

“Not everyday. Dreams can offer wisdom. Sometimes my sister, Helaena, whispered mysterious things. Like hers, when she shared the message, I was the one who listened to her when no one else does.”

Your legs tangled with his in the silken pearly white sheets, the pearly-white canopy flowed as the candlelight flickered.

“You’re so thoughtful to your sister,” you said, stroking his silken hair. “I wish I could share the same thought when it comes to my own, but she’s…a Queen.”

Aemond hummed, his violet eye lulling. “I’ll protect you.” The cloaked the blanket. “After all, I’m your husband. Dragons never waver.”

~*~

Days later, the Council was supposed to be in the terms that Aemond will have an arranged marriage with one of the Baratheon girls at Storm’s End.

Aemond heard rumors on all of Borros’ daughters—all were pretty. Pretty face, pretty voice and pretty hair, postures poised in grace and elegance, all adorned in a shade of green to support the Greens.

“We should have Prince Aemond marry one of the Baratheon girls, to form alliance with us,” Tyland suggested. “At this rate, the Blacks won’t yield, not unless we have alliances to support us.”

Queen Alicent was too worried for their children to be slain by Princess Rhaenyra once she becomes Queen.

Ha! As if!

Queen Alicent wanted her son, Aegon, to seize the throne. Queen Alicent detested the lineage of incest and barbaric dragons that captured the nation. Valyria was never great of valuable importance to her; the late king had always talked and created the replica of Old Valyria. As magical and historical as it was, she didn’t care. Queen Alicent never cared for the subject that disinterest her, gladdened that the Valyrians, these barbaric riders and incestuous traditions must end. If Rhaenyra were to take the Crown, she might have an affair who looked like her uncle. She never cared for these barbaric riders, but she greatly cared for her children, as she always does, despite being the Queen subjected to counsel and aim for her people in Oldtown and King’s Landing.

And with the Faith of the Seven, she’ll pray to the Gods to wipe out their incestuous and dragon-fucking traditions.

“We must send him soon,” Tyland suggested. “The better numbers, the better chance for us to kill Rhaenyra and her children. We Aemond and Vhagar to rely on.”

Queen Alicent made a thoughtful look on her face, but something has changed with Aemond. So do you. Ever since you came here in King’s Landing, Aemond has been acting strangely. Despite not being able to attend her children on a daily basis, she knew that there’s an air about the one-eyed prince has shifted.

Your presence has somehow calmed him. And too possessive. The way he punched his own grandfather at a dinner table. And the whispers of the Dornish prince haven’t been back in Dorne at the night of the gathering, where he asked you for your hand.

Queen Alicent’s face contorted, but, in return, she remained composed and leaned back on the head council’s chair.

“I’ll speak with him,” she said, eyes glinted in subtle anger, divided between duties and dark hatred for the Targaryens and Aemond’s sudden shift.

She didn’t like it one bit.

~*~

After several days in honeymoon, you dressed up in more cobalt colors with layered frills and laces and golden pins and embroidery on your body. Since then, people in King’s Landing have thought of you as radiant and with your teal-colored eyes were sparkling, a silver ring rested on your ring finger.

For Aemond, he was proud he had eloped with a woman like you. For days, after his training session, without anyone finding out about your elope with him, he visited you whenever he can, and railed into you when he gets the chance, to taste you again, hoping for your belly to swell with his child.

That is until, his mother barged in informed him of the council, for him to marry one of Borros’ daughters.

His face contorted to grimace, disliked the idea. None of the women were pretty enough or could hold to a candle when it comes to your exceptional beauty and talents, and the kindness you’ve exuded.

“Aemond, you must marry,” Queen Alicent said.

“I have no desire of marrying one of his plain daughters. Ask Daeron,” he said with his arms crossed.

“What has changed, my son,” she wondered, trying to find a spot to where it hits.

“My mind has changed,” he said. “Please excuse me, I need to do my training session with Ser Criston. Ask Daeron instead. I’ve heard how he’s recently growing popular.”

When the door was shut, Queen Alicent could only do, but look, struck in paralyzation.

Aemond has becoming like Aegon, she thought, mentally accused.

She can’t her House have a great downfall.

And so she followed and discovered the secret to why Aemond refused.

The night was fast approaching.

As for you, as you lay asleep, in your silken gown, your stomach has been aching, clutching under the palm of your weak hand, dreaming about the voices and a misted view flashed before your eyes, wondering the nightmares will end.

With Aemond clambered onto your bed and slept beside you, bodies tangling one another. Then removing his trousers, you climbed onto his naked lap, and the silks of your nightgown hoisted around your waist as your wet cunt slipped his cock, bouncing. Your head threw back, sighing and screaming in pleasure, as the bed creaked at your wet arousal.

And Queen Alicent was in deep shock at the revelation, that one trait she despised greatly against the Targaryens.

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fuckyeahisawthat · 2 years ago

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I’ve had my share of [Crowley voice] you idiot thoughts at both of them over their terrible communication skills and severe chronic inability to say what they mean. But like. I get it.

For 6000 years, they had to talk in code. They had to express themselves in grand gestures and subtext and plausible deniability, out of fear of being found out. And they got really good at it! They developed a whole secret language of ways to say I love you because they couldn’t say it out loud.

But now that they can—and need to—talk about what they are to each other with actual words, they don’t know how.

Neither of them know how to say what they want, openly, and to ask what the other wants. And (I think this is a crucial component) they don’t know how to fight. They’ve had enough spats to have a 350+ year old apology dance, but they have repeatedly avoided talking about the really big differences in their worldviews and what they value, because those conversations would immediately bump up against the things they try hardest to avoid (doubt and guilt for Aziraphale; rejection for Crowley), and because that could lead to a real disagreement that they don’t know how to get around. And then where would either of them be? Alone.

So they bicker and they have drunken philosophical debates and they make up and do little dances all while not really talking about the big differences in how they see the world. And then when the pressure is on they have horrible miscommunication blowouts where they end up talking past each other and hurting each other deeply because they don’t even realize they’re not on the same page.

Upon rewatch I think this is part of why Crowley seems so unhappy in the early episodes. I think he did hope that once they weren’t working for Heaven and Hell, things would go in a more explicitly romantic direction. (But of course he won’t just come out and say that, until the absolute last ditch moment.) From his POV, he’s made his desires perfectly clear (he hasn’t) and I think he thought that working for Heaven was the last thing holding Aziraphale back. And then they cleared that hurdle and nothing changed. Or not enough. Because the problem goes deeper than that.

And bless(/damn) them, they’re still trying. The confession was clearly so hard for Crowley, and would have been even without the first half of the scene, because he’s working against his deepest insecurities. He can’t even finish his sentences, and yet he’s still trying. And I do think that Aziraphale was working up to his own version of it (he’s so openly physically affectionate with Crowley this season, much more than in the past) but he’s always moved a bit slower with these things, and then it was too late. (It’s always too late.)

But even if they’d both been able to openly say their I love yous, they still have this thing sitting between them, which is that Aziraphale doesn’t understand why Crowley would never go back to Heaven, and Crowley doesn’t understand why Aziraphale would want to. And having that conversation goes right to the heart of how they’ve both been damaged by the system of Heaven and Hell, which is why I suspect they’ve both instinctively avoided it before now. And at some point in s3, they are going to have to talk about that.

#good omens #good omens s2 #good omens s2 spoilers #aziraphale #crowley #there’s a whole boatload of metaphors in ‘can’t talk to each other because we’ve always had to talk in the subtext’#that i suspect i will be digging into more

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tanobatcher · 2 months ago

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see you later

hunter x gn reader summary: you’ve been lucky to befriend a certain group of refugee clones on pabu, with a special interest in the one they consider their leader. saying goodbye becomes difficult when you realize you don't want him to leave despite the circumstances. warnings: nothing explicit but i might have snuck in a kiss 💋 a/n: i just finished my tbb rewatch and this idea came to me during s3 ep11 when they decided to leave pabu but obv this would take place before the empire came and fucked everything up!! bc imagine how cute it would've been if he met someone there omg :(

Rumor has it that your new friends won’t be around for much longer. Small whispers of people’s business always travel fast across this island regardless of whether or not the gossip is intentional. Sometimes, you overhear conversations that have nothing to do with you or your immediate circle. Other times, you discover that decisions relevant to the pit in your stomach have already been made without so much as a word in your direction.

Of course, they don’t have to tell you anything. From what you’ve learned about them, they come from wildly different lives than you. Something as trivial as your slight disappointment wouldn’t stop them in their tracks as a point to consider. But you know you’ll miss them when they’re gone. You wonder how long this farewell will last.

“Do you have a minute?” Someone asks you from behind, breaking you away from the conversation with the rest of the docks. It’s Hunter, for there’s no one else on this island who raises goosebumps across your arms at the sound of his voice like he does. You stay behind and let everyone clear out in slow waves until all that’s left is the two of you by the shore as the sun sets on the distant horizon. Finally, when the world feels quiet again, you turn around and look at him with a somber frown itching at your lips.

“Is something wrong?” You ask, already knowing the answer to your question.

He shakes his head, setting his jaw with a determined clench. “No. I’m sure you’ve heard, but I wanted to tell you that we’re leaving Pabu. Soon.”

You nod, trying to treat this like an inevitability and nothing more. “How soon?”

“Tomorrow,” he says, “Better to be quick about this…before it’s too late.”

You hesitate before stepping closer and taking his hand with a comforting squeeze. “You’re not a hazard to this place, you know. We’ve never had any reason to fear our safety here.”

“We can’t risk changing that,” he responds firmly.

The tired lines on his face begin to crease when he looks down at your joined hands, which feels retaliatory to your instincts. Your face warms as you pull away, unsure if this just crossed a line. It’s difficult to remember that you barely know him when the time you spent together thus far has felt so normal. That’s what being at home is like, though. And time is relative, especially when he’s brought more light into your life than anyone ever before. But right when you start to believe you can reach a deeper part of his heart, he decides it’s time to go. Perhaps he’s just too good to be true.

“I understand,” you hear yourself saying.

“Thought you would.”

You hug your arms across your shoulders as a slight breeze begins to pick up with the approaching nightfall. He watches you closely until you ask, ��How’s Omega with all of this?”

His eyes soften at her mention, distracted from his constantly circling thoughts about her. “She was a little upset, but she’ll be fine. The kid’s tough.”

“Besides,” he meets your gaze, “This is necessary…for everyone.”

You nearly squirm under the pressure of his stare, still not completely used to his natural intensity. He’s a soldier, so different from your average self. Despite knowing what it feels like to lose your place in this galaxy and run away to the extent of your exhaustion, you can’t compare the degree of the events that brought you both here. Which is exactly why you need to feel okay with this. For them.

“Yeah,” you offer a shy smile, “And you’ll be back when things settle down again. Right?”

“I’m not sure if it’ll be like last time. We’ll have to see.”

“Right. Of course.”

Observing the lingering hope in your eyes despite your attempted acceptance of this uncertain situation, he sighs and shakes his head. “Don’t wait around for me. You’re better off forgetting we were ever here.”

His words hit exactly where it hurts, calling you out on the feelings you thought you were hiding so well. He’s smarter than that, though, quiet and calculating in every move that crosses his attention. But your pride can’t let you down just yet.

You fold your arms over your chest. “Who said anything about waiting?”

He smiles slightly, amused by how riled up you suddenly are. “Just thought I’d mention it.”

“Noted.”

That feels like the end of this conversation, but neither of you moves to leave. He doesn’t mean to push you away like this. He doesn’t want to, actually. You don’t realize that you—like the rest of this island—have been so good to all of them, almost enough for them to believe they have a chance at keeping the disillusioned normalcy they’re now leaving behind. Hunter never meant to lose focus, and he hasn’t completely. Grief and responsibility keep him grounded enough. But looking at you when you’re right in front of him, so open and pliable to his presence, feeds a tugging desire he’s not in a position to fulfill.

He opens his mouth to reply, startling into silence when you abruptly throw your arms around his neck and inhale deeply. His hands instinctively raise from his sides, hovering around your figure with surprise and hesitation. You assume he’s not going to reciprocate until you feel the weight of his palms flattening around your torso and the squeeze of his fingers that soothe your racing heart. The impending reality of his absence suddenly overwhelms you, extending beyond the fact that you’ll miss his company. You’re afraid of anything happening to him out there, not even knowing where he’ll be. He tells you not to wait for him, but maybe that’s all you can really do.

“Wasn’t sure if you’d really miss me,” he murmurs.

Your stomach flutters as his words melt into your skin, so close and exclusive to your ear. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you tell him, “I might be too busy for that.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Mhm. Wrecker’s not gonna be here anymore, which means more work for us. I’ll definitely miss him.”

“Right…”

You laugh at the skepticism in his tone and step back, nearly slipping out of his arms. But his hands don’t fully leave your body, keeping your fronts together as you search his expression for some truth. It’s not as obvious to the naked eye, but he liked it here. Not just for Omega, his brothers, or his entire family’s peace. For himself, too, even if that isn’t anywhere near his highest priority. Maybe he’s been catching his breath, only to feel winded by the coming change all over again. Maybe he’s been dreaming forward, just for his nightmares to follow his trail.

The humorous buzz drains from your spirit as you consider these thoughts, looking at him while trying to find the perfect consolation. But he doesn’t seem to need any of that. You’re not really sure what he does need, so you simply cup his face with careful and caressing hands that smooth over his scars. His eyebrows briefly furrow at the unfamiliarity of your gentle touch, but he doesn’t reject it.

“I wouldn’t want to think this is the last time I’ll ever see you,” you say quietly, “So…just make sure you come back.”

“I shouldn’t promise that,” he replies before clarifying, “For my sake, at least.”

“You don’t have to.”

Suddenly, you realize that your faces are much closer than they were just a few moments ago. It’s like you’ve caught each other in your orbits, gravitating towards a decision you won’t ever come back from. You don’t want to, though. Testing the waters, you lean forward until his mouth is just hovering over yours. His eyes widen in response to the kiss you softly press to his parted lips, and his subtle surprise remains when you pull back just enough to see him again. He regains his composure quickly, though, almost smug in his returning smile.

“What was that for?” He rasps, sliding his hand up your back.

You’re breathing the same air now, noses touching and foreheads resting against each other. Swiping a teasing finger across his cheek, you reply, “For good luck.”

He makes a “hm” sound under his breath before dipping his head to kiss you on his terms. It’s clear he’s in control as he tilts his head at a sharper angle, and all you can do is just follow his lead and hold onto him for stability. His shoulders are hard in your hands, but his lips are soft against yours each time he coaxes a quiet gasp from the many noises you imagine you can make for him. The kiss eventually pauses, and you run your hands across his upper back while drowning in these last moments with him.

“Now I really can't say goodbye,” you confess, avoiding his gaze.

His fingers find your jaw, pushing slightly so you’re looking at him again.

“See you later, then.”

Your eyes round from the unexpectedness of this response, as it feels a lot more playful than his usual demeanor. But when he smiles reassuringly, you can only smile back and wrap your arms around him in another embrace. Resting your chin against the crook of his neck, you look out into the ocean behind him and linger with the setting sun. There’s only a little bit of orange left in the darkening sky, but the morning will return tomorrow. The day after that, too, and you’ll see him eventually as if the time hardly passed. The minutes, hours, or complete rotations won’t matter. Because you’ll be right here, thinking of him until this constantly moving galaxy decides to let you catch up.

#clone x reader #tbb hunter x you #tbb hunter x reader #tbb hunter #the bad batch hunter #hunter x reader #hunter bad batch #the bad batch #star wars the bad batch #tbb #star wars tbb #star wars clones #clones #the clone wars

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shutupineedtothink · 2 months ago

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Wait, did Rand and Moiraine just become the most interesting relationship in s3? (3x04 thoughts)

Bruh I still have so many thoughts about Rhuidean but I’m gonna talk about Rand and Moiraine for a sec.

So right before this ep I saw a clip of an interview with Ros and Josha, and the question was what was the most interesting unexpected relationship for your character this season. Ros said something about Lanfear I think, but Josha was like well the most interesting relationship for me continues to be Moiraine and Rand. And initially I was like ?? Really? You mean the whiny little boy and mother knows best thing y’all have going on? Lol that’s a little uncharitable toward both of them but you see my point.

And then this episode. Rhuidean. And suddenly— fuck if he isn’t right. They just became the most interesting relationship in the whole show. And certainly the most interesting wizard/hero depiction I’ve seen on screen in … forever? Lemme explain.

There’s a huge theme here about trust for both of them, but for Rand it’s learning to put his faith in Moiraine (and NOT Lanfear) and that she really does want to help him, and for Moiraine it’s about releasing control and accepting that while it’s her job to guide Rand, it’s not her job to literally create his path step by step. This has to be a collaboration between both of them. Trust, from opposite sides of the spectrum.

In your standard hero’s journey, the guide teaches the hero, the hero learns from the guide, the hero fulfills their destiny. There’s some growing pains maybe, some lessons learned, but usually the trust is there from the beginning. Think Luke and Obi Wan (and Yoda). Think Frodo and Gandalf. They’re pretty much buds from the jump. They’re on the same level with each other. Or something happens very early on that puts them on the same level (Luke’s aunt and uncle die, Luke willingly goes with Obi Wan, no further conflict needed).

Rand and Moiraine have had wayyyy more conflict than that from the beginning, but it was hard for me to see it as an integral part of their relationship and part of their journey because Rand just seemed so childish and Moiraine always seems so… correct lol. Like just do what she says my dude.

But now in s3… we’ve already seen a lot more growth and maturity in Rand in the last 3 episodes than the first 2 seasons combined. He’s got this quiet pensiveness to him he didn’t have before, and an edge of darkness too. It makes me take him a lot more seriously (finally). So initially when he says at the fire that Moiraine has never tried to help him - well, that stubborn boy is still in there - but I see where he’s coming from. She’s not exactly forthcoming with her intentions. She has tried to manipulate him in the past, even working with Lanfear of all people to influence him, which is actually insane and almost got them all killed. She can be so single minded on the goal that she doesn’t consider other possibilities, and she hasn’t put her trust in Rand to forge his own path as the dragon. To be fair, he hasn’t really made any moves of his own until now, but now he is, and all he gets from her is resistance.

And, as much as it pains me to say it, we find out that Moiraine WAS in fact wrong to go get Callandor first, because, if I’m interpreting the Aiel correctly, she would’ve died if they didn’t go to the waste first. I think?

Anyway, at the fire when he says it’s “not enough” that she won’t do anything to hinder his destiny as dragon and whatever, what he’s saying is he needs her to trust him. To actually believe in him and his ability to go down this path. Not try to control and manipulate him (even if her intentions are good) into the best outcome. And maybe for the first time, she seems to really consider his words. And it is on her, as the guide, to take the first step here, to give him her trust and let him meet her halfway.

And then what she actually does — joining him to go into Rhuidean — is straight out of the Lan Mandragoran good partner playbook. Instead of trying to stop him (which has been her strategy up til this point) she says, if you’re going, I’m going too. They literally walk through the spears side by side in that amazing slow mo shot. (Cinema!) If she had any illusions of being able to help him/influence him through his trial, that’s almost certainly gone as soon as they walk into the city. They’re both on their own, and yet they still went in together. More on the same page than they’ve ever been at this point. And then we get the whole tree story and “we’ve been connected since before I was born.” Which is nice because a) Moiraine handing out some personal history and pivotal knowledge for once aka more trust and b) a little twist of fate binding two characters together never hurts, especially in this world.

For Rand’s part, his “you should never have come here” was still quite moody towards her. But then he does a full 180 after his trial when he refuses to leave without her. (“Aren’t you?” “Not without her.” I screamed, btw, I was that invested by this point.) I hope we get a little more insight into what he’s thinking about her soon, bc it seems like maybe he has accepted her on some level. Almost like he subconsciously knows he needs her help. Or maybe he just knows Lan would beat his ass if he didn’t walk out with her, idk. Lol.

The whole last few minutes of them walking out of Rhuidean, well, Rand walking out with Moiraine in his arms, is a) visually STUNNING and b) certainly the most vulnerable and connected we’ve seen them so far. Don’t get me started on her reaching for him even as Lan takes her in his arms and Rand’s eyes never leaving her for a second. Ho boy, they’re on some other shit now. New level unlocked.

So my whole point being, WOW they just got a whole lot more interesting in the space of a single episode. You know a relationship between two characters is getting good when you’re like man I just wanna see them TALK to each other. Can’t wait to see more.

#this might be a generous read of what’s happening with them but #i think we’re moving toward trust on both sides either way #hopefully lol #rand al'thor #moiraine damodred #wheel of time spoilers #wot #wot on prime #season 3 #episode analysis #character analysis #meta #3x04 #the road to the spear

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sugarushwriting · 3 months ago

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ot7 vampire — human blood bank

s3 p7

adult content may be featured. read at your own discretion.

“what do you mean that fucker isn’t dead!” jay all but yelled. he scoffed at the thought that his first kill as a vampire decades ago wasn’t actually dead.

more importantly, sunwoo’s brother wasn’t dead. this had to be planned between the two. how long has sunwoo known his brother was back from the dead?

“technically he’s still dead. his soul is tied to hell.” hyunjin explained.

“so he’s hells bitch?” ni-ki said, and jungwon and sunoo choked on their own spit to hold a laugh.

“what ni-ki means,” you began, “is that his brother is working for the devil?”

“something like that.” hyunjin answered.

“how are you not working for hell?” jungwon asked, arms crossed.

chan stepped forward. “i saved his soul, that’s how he became a vampire. of course he can’t get rid of the demon inside him all the way, but he’s no longer part of hell.”

you chuckled in disbelief. “this is insane.” you slapped your forehead to your palm. you suddenly felt nauseous.

ni-ki looked at you. “go get some rest.”

you nodded and walked up the steps to one of the boys room to sleep. you slept like the dead once you got comfortable.

“we need to go talk to sunwoo and see what’s up. it’s too risky to bring him back here.” hyunjin said. “some of you stay here with her, and we’ll have seungmin, jeongin and minho come as well.”

“i’m definitely going.” jay stepped closer to chan.

“i’ll stay with her.” ni-ki said. he didn’t think he could handle seeing sunwoo’s smirking face.

jungwon, jay, and heeseung all decided to go with chan. sunoo, ni-ki, sunghoon, and jake would stay back at the house with minho, jeongin, and seungmin.

by the time chan and the others arrived at the holding cells, sunwoo was in a private room, chained to the chair and table, gag in his mouth until it was time for him to talk.

two of changbin’s men stood guard, as changbin escorted chan and jay to the room. jungwon and heeseung stayed back with felix and han.

hyunjin walked into the room with sunwoo first, flashing his black eyes. the guard in the room took the gag out.

“about time you show your true self, demon.” sunwoo smiled.

“how long have you known your brother wasn’t actually dead?” hyunjin stood tall as sunwoo had to stay seated.

he faked a pout. “oh what do you mean? my brother was killed, by a no so good blood lusting freak!”

hyunjin scoffed, “don’t forget you’re one of those blood lusting freaks too.”

sunwoo rolled his eyes, not exactly having an argument to that. “at least i don’t pretend to be a good vampire.” he spat, mainly towards jay. sunwoo knew jay was out there. and it excited him to share the truth.

jay balled his fists at his sides, reminding himself he was still a new vampire. he didn’t want to kill any human then, he was just so hungry.

hyunjin finally took a seat across from sunwoo, crossing his legs. “your brother said something about ‘our plans,’ which im sure he’s referring to the two of you.” hyunjin leaned back in his seat uncrossing his legs.

sunwoo smiled. “maybe.”

“what do the two of you have planned?”

“how’s that girl of jay’s doing?” sunwoo changed the subject.

“she’s fine.”

sunwoo tsked. “is she really fine?”

“why does it matter?” hyunjin said.

“those boys don’t care about her. only using her for her blood. jay won’t ever change. they have instincts. a thirst. they can’t deny or ignore that.” sunwoo rambled on.

“and you care about her?” hyunjin challenged and sunwoo nodded.

“of course i do. that’s why i took her. i needed her to really see what they are.”

“he’s deranged and delusional.” jay scoffed at the two way mirror watching sunwoo closely.

“how can you say you care about her, when you got her pregnant, knowing that if a vampire got a human pregnant, that the baby will die and most likely kill her?” hyunjin voiced with anger and frustration.

“she was craving a family.” sunwoo defended.

“and that’s worth trying to give her what she wants by killing her?”

sunwoo shook his head. his head hung down before his body started to shake due to uncontrollable laughter. then his head came back up as he laughed.

hyunjin looked at him weirdly. chan, changbin, and jay looked at him with concern from the other side of the window.

“what?” hyunjins inner demonic voice came through. he was annoyed and over sunwoo’s antics.

sunwoo sighed, “i never said the baby was mine.”

silence. all the men were silent other than sunwoo who laughed. he knew jay on the other side probably was shitting his pants.

“can i go back to my cell now? im tired from talking.” sunwoo said.

“let’s go.” chan tugged on jay to get him away while the men escorted sunwoo back to his cell.

jay was paler than usual. you were pregnant. but not by sunwoo. could it be another vampire? no, he’d hate to admit it, but sunwoo didn’t want you dead.

sunwoo wanted jay to suffer.

jay sat in a chair in chans office, as chan and hyunjin whispered back and forth,

“i have a bad feeling about this.”

“all this time we thought she was carrying sunwoo’s child.”

“could it be?”

“what happens when a human gets pregnant by a demon?” jay asked, barely hearing or recognizing his own voice.

hyunjin hesitated to answer. “she becomes tied to hell and the demon, and gives birth to a baby that’s born a half demon.”

you would survive. the baby would survive. but it would be part demon. you would become tied to hell.

what the actual fuck?

sunwoo hated jay that much that he was willing to get you pregnant by his demonic brother? how did his brother even become a demon? why’d he go to hell? selling his soul or something?

jay gasped and stood up, “wait! why did his brother even go to hell? how’d he become a demon? if they are so good too-shoes like he claims then why did he go down rather than up?”

hyunjin and chan whipped around to face jay. hyunjin answered, “usually it’s because they sell their soul or make a deal prior.”

chan added, “wasn’t he trying to make a deal with her?” he was referring to you. “hyunjin, what could be happening?”

hyunjin thought. “it could be that sunwoo’s brother made a deal with a demon unknowning or knowingly. if jay killed him before his soul could be taken by the demon then he cheated death. he went to hell, and was given an ultimatum. be tortured in hell or become a crossroads demon to make deals. he chose to make deals to take souls. he could be after her to make a deal. im not sure why, but it can’t be good.”

not proof read

next update — no earlier than march 21 for this series — taking a mini break to gather thoughts 💭

like, reblog, share, comment, do all the things!!

send requests!

what do you think is happening? what happens next? mhmm 🤭

#fanfiction #engene #enhypen x reader #enhypen drabbles #enhypen fanfiction #stray kids #skz stay #enhypen #enhypen ot7 #enhypen vampire au #vampire enhypen #vampire stray kids #vampire fanfiction

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rafesproperty · 10 months ago

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Im BEGGING so hard they make Rarry happend (rafe and Barry) BECAUSE LIKE EVEN THE CAST SHIPS ITTTT

IM THE BIGGEST RARRY SOLDIER ON EARTHHHHH I LOVE THEM SM LETS DISCUSS THEM.

The thing is that if one of them was a girl everyone in the fandom would go insane over them, but since they are boys it probably won’t even happen.

THESE ARE NOT‼️ PLATONIC LOOKS. The eyes, chico, they never lie

Topper is me asf

They would literally make so much sense. The thing is Barry is so special to Rafe in so many ways. Notice the way Rafe lets Barry talk to him (sassy, making fun of him, Barry literally going “let me lead and SHUT UP” and Rafe just going “ok🥰”, Barry going “I’ll knock that J-Crew lookin ass out” and Rafe just smirking and blushing). Rafe would NOT let people speak to him the way he lets Barry speak to him… like ever 😭 Also when Barry told him he’ll lead it was when they went after the Pogues and it’s something Rafe very much cared about. HE’S A PROACTIVE TYPE OF PERSON, he would not let someone he doesn’t 100% trust “lead,” he’s a control freak. Yet here he was, just going “okay,” trusting Barry with something so important to him.

Barrys presence is so important in Rafes life and I feel like neither of them really realises but it genuinely is. RAFE ALWAYS RUNS TO BARRY FIRST. He would NOT let anyone know he killed Peterkin (Topper and Kelce are his closest friends and he’d never tell them), yet here he was on Barrys floor, confessing to him, allowing him to see his breakdown AND —

BRO DON’T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON THIS SCENE OMFG —

He slept AT BARRYS when he had probably the worst day ever (Ward screaming “Rafe you fucked us!” at him, him drowning Sarah and Topper beating him up happened in the same day) and the next scene we get is Rafe waking up on Barrys couch. I imagine him going into absolute panic in the middle of the night and not wanting to go home to his dad, the only place he can think of being Barrys… so he goes to Barry. We were so, so robbed of a scene where Rafe shows up in the middle of the night saying “I didn’t know where else to go” with a beat up face and Barry going “Shit, country club.”

I’m just convinced Rafe felt safe enough with Barry so he always ran to him.

Their first meeting in S3 as well. I’m pretty sure that was the first time they saw each other since Barry betrayed him in S2 and Rafe was just okay and calm and ASKED BARRY FOR HELP AGAIN. Rafe holds grudges like crazy, yet he trusted him enough after his betrayal to seek him out again. Like nothing ever happened. And Barry helped him again. Because Barry always helps him (he claims it’s just for the money but the thing is he was willing to murder for Rafe and that is not something he was comfortable with the entire show, I’m genuinely convinced he would not accept that offer from anyone, murder being over the line for him… yet for Rafe? Yeah).

We could see Barry being uncomfortable by Rafes murderous temptations in a few scenes (especially the one where he tried to drown Kie), but the second Rafe asked him to kill Ward he was like ALRIGHT I’LL DO IT FOR YOU. Also Rafe was so hyperfixated on his dad, it was the most important person in the world to him, so him asking Barry to do it just shows the level of trust. He asked Barry to free him of this burden.

Also Barry DOES NOT do it only for the money. In Season 2 when Rafe comes over to pick up his drugs and asks Barry for “a piece” (a gun), Barry giggles and makes jokes UNTIL Rafe says “Do you realise it’s either me or him (John B) in this situation, right?” and in that very moment Barry switches and goes full angry protective mode and pulls out an entire bag full of guns 😭 And is fully ready to go with Rafe and to protect him and shoot a Pogue for him. But Rafe did not ask for help. He didn’t offer him money. He just asked for a gun. Barry did all of that on his own and he went with him on his own. I think that’s also why Rafe told him “You know I’ll take care of you,” he himself was surprised someone was willing to protect him and go with him out of their own free will.

At the end of S1 Barry went with Rafe after the Pogues because they owed him money, but he still handled Rafes mental breakdown pretty well (NO other character ever managed that, not even his family), he cracked some jokes and got Rafe out of the panic state by motivating him to go do something about it, and joining him.

Also the shit they say to each other…

“You know I’ll take care of you.”

“I own you now.”

“Tranquilo?”

“Tranquilo, baby.”

Barry casually saying “How does that feel, babyboy?” in S1

THE WAY THEY LOOK AT EACH OTHER?!

Nice try mf I know love eyes when I see them

Another thing is their dynamic is absolutely perfect. Rafe, a bit psychotic, always taking everything seriously, grumpy asf and Barry, sassy mf that takes nothing seriously and is quite literally the only person that knows how to handle Rafe and how to talk back to him.

PLUS the actors shipping them is so wholesome and funny tbh (at least we won’t have another Jiara accident uhm…)

They also ADMITTED VERY PROUDLY that they send Rarry edits to each other 😭 “You know, whenever I miss Drew we’ll run back the tiktoks” dnsjskks

Drew literally going “Nick Cirillo who plays Barry in the show, my right hand… also my lover”

That’s boyfriends right there

One more thing I’d like to add is Barry was so judgy of Ward when he came to see Rafe (in S2 right before Rafe tried to run away and Ward came to warn him from the police), now it might be because Ward beat him up in S1 orrrrrr because he simply saw Rafes state (Rafe probably told him that his dad yelled at him that day when he slept over) and didn’t like his dad a single bit. I choose to go with the protective bf option.

Again, if one of them was a girl it would be one of the most popular ships just bc of their dynamic and banter and chemistry (JJPope situation all over again).

I hope Drew and Nick manage to sneak in a little bro kiss in some of the upcoming seasons (like that scene from Deadly Class when Marcus is randomly bro kissed), feel like it’s something they would 100% do 😭… Imagine drunk Barry going “Country cluuubbb, mwah” and Rafe just 🧍🏻

And I’d love to continue with more pics and edits but Tumblr won’t let me add more so we’ll end it here.

But they genuinely mean the world to me. I think a lot of people are shipping them as a joke but I’m IN LOVE with their ship and dynamic and the bond between them.

That’s all ty for reading 💕

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dykesynthezoid · 10 months ago

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I do think we’re getting at least some escalation of devil’s minion in s3 btw. And I don’t think that’s even me being hopeful or optimistic I think it’s literally just logical.

I’ve seen people say oh, but devil’s minion happens in QOTD, and s3 is TVL; and firstly, they’ve definitely made it sound like some elements of queen of the damned are going to be present in s3. Secondly, I suspect season 3 is going to end with the lead up to Lestat’s San Francisco concert. So the whole season will be both Lestat backstory + the set up for the events of QOTD. And devil’s minion happens, guess what, before Lestat’s San Francisco concert. It would almost not make sense to not at least touch on it while the other story beats are culminating up to that moment. Like, Daniel and Armand are already present in the story (where they aren’t in the book in the modern day storyline), why would you not continue their storylines to the next logical step?

Also, I think you have to consider just how many new characters and storylines QOTD introduces and how daunting that can be to absorb if you’re unfamiliar. Waiting to do anything with devil’s minion until season 4 means that’s just one more new storyline to have to inject into a narrative already very crowded with exposition. It just doesn’t make a lot of sense to do that, and I suspect the writers are pretty aware of that.

And frankly like. What other storylines would Daniel and Armand be getting? Like how are either of their stories supposed to move forward without, y’know, each other? Are we supposed to expect all of season 3 just to be one big pause button on both their larger narratives? That seems very silly. Daniel at least has the journey of adjusting to vampirism, but Armand especially is like. His semi-redemption and character evolution comes from devil’s minion. That’s the only real next step for him.

And I mean. Look at Assad and Eric. I don’t think Rolin Jones could convince them to wait a whole other season for something to happen if he tried. I know, I know it’s easy to be like “oh but maybe it’s just actors being silly” but compare how open they’re being about it now and how much more tight lipped they were in between seasons one and two. It’s night and day. It is a very very different vibe. And apparently, Assad has been plenty excited about it this entire time, so he was actually somehow managing to keep his mouth shut before. But now maybe he doesn’t need to, because he knows season 3 will at least offer something in the way of that development.

I think it’s entirely possible we won’t necessarily see the full “culmination” of their relationship until season 4, but I do think season 3 will at least have development and escalating tensions that are undeniable. I think it’ll likely start out slow and ramp up as the season continues. I’m not going to panic if we don’t get much in the first few episodes or if it takes until episode five to see Daniel’s turning. That might be needed, honestly, in terms of giving Lestat his necessary focus. But I think more small pieces will begin to accumulate, will escalate to a place of higher tension by the mid season, and then the finale will include some type of reveal or emotional climax, setting things up going into season 4.

And you know what, it’s worth mentioning: things have happened faster on this show than I expected before! I did not expect Daniel to be turned at the end of season 2. I thought we probably had a whole other season to go before that happened. “Well they were afraid of cancellation” / “well Eric just wanted to be a vampire so badly” and will these things also not apply to season 3/Eric and Assad wanting devil’s minion?? Idk babes. I’m doing the math and it doesn’t seem that crazy to me

#if I were being *optimistic* I’d say we see daniel’s turning in episode one and he and armand hump each other on the ground about it #this^ is just me thinking logically #daniel molloy #armand #iwtv tv #devil’s minion #iwtv #armandaniel #devils minion #iwtv s3

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futuremrscameron · 5 months ago

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academic rival pogue!reader

content warnings: micro aggressions, child endangerment (obx plot), past drug use, rivals to lovers, light misogyny

academic rivals with pope. she’s one of the few people that can really piss him off.

on an academic scholarship at kildare academy and gets harassed for it

“you know it’s really just charity they’re doing letting you come here. they need at least one pogue to make them look diverse.”

bethany leans against her locker across the hallway glancing over every so often barely trying to be subtle about who

“wow that’s a big word for you. you learn that on sesame street?”

“bitch.”

“see you later bethany.”

she and pope push each other to be better and keep each other on their toes. she helps him out with clues from the pogues’ treasure hunts before she knows what’s going on

“i mean what else could it mean.”

“did you never take english lit? the curtains are blue for a reason pope.”

“oh that’s so helpful thank you for your input.”

“did you try looking in a

the only girl in a house full of boys (her father and twin brother)

pope’s complete opposite in every way but academically, she parties, smokes, drinks, and on occasion does coke

“yo rafe!”

“matilda.”

“fuck off.”

“ooh that’s no way to talk to someone that wants something from me.”

hates that pope uses his intelligence to help the pogues with their schemes, she sees it as a waste and thinks he should invest all his brain power into his academics

she definitely fell first. didn’t know how to handle her feelings so she was nicer to him and he was a little scared. why was his rival suddenly being nice to him?

he realized he liked her after she hugged him when he returned to outer banks in s3

“for a genius you sure act like an idiot. do you know how many assignments you missed? don’t scare me like that again asshole.”

“you were worried?”

“no shit heyward.”

“do you like me?”

“wasn’t it obvious?”

gathers homework for pope when he’s absent and drops it off

“i brought your homework.”

“isn’t kildare county high an hour away from kook academy?”

“just take it heyward.”

pope doesn’t realize she likes him until she tells him how much she missed him during his time on poguelandia

study dates at each other’s house that usually turns into making out

the heywards love her, think she’s a good influence on pope unlike his hooligan friends (little do they know)

academic rival!pogue helps pope study for his GED and apply to colleges in and out of state

she’s worried that pope won’t want her when she tells him she’s not a virgin

does not get along with jj but knows how important they both are to him so she would never make him choose

graduates top of her class at kildare county academy

loves cleo. she thinks jj is scum and the other pogues are idiots but cleo? she’s an angel. she’s a thief? who cares. she’s killed people? good for her. she truly believes cleo can do no wrong and might have a tiny crush on her

worries about long distance dating when she goes to brown but is reassured by pope constantly keeping in touch whether it be through phone calls, texts, or actual handwritten letters

very possessive but pope finds it hot

could’ve solved half of the pogues’ problems if they came to her

#academic rival!pogue reader #pope heyward x black oc #obx fic #academic rival!pogue #pope heyward x black reader #outer banks #academic rival pogue #pope heyward x reader #obx #academic pogue rival pogue reader #pope x black reader #outer banks moodboard #pope heyward

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clu-ven · 1 year ago

Text

Better than Meditation

soooo I haven't posted in a very long time but I'm trying to get back into writing!!! (so pls bear with me xoxoxoxoxo)

Summary: you come up with an alternative (smutty) way for Crosshair to gain some control over his hand - based off S3 E08

Tags: SMUT, vaginal fingering, semi public fingering?? (technically it’s done in an isolated but public place), lil bit of plot + smut, smut, smut

Word Count: 2.8k

“He’s still down there, y’know” Omega’s voice brings you out of your thoughts as she slumps down beside you.

You keep your eyes closed, letting the rays of the afternoon sun wash over you. Pabu’s climate is one you could most definitely get used to. It’s inviting and comforting atmosphere makes you feel at ease, a sensation that has become rare since the rise of the Empire.

“Well, you know how stubborn he is,” you reply casually.

While Hunter and Wrecker are gone to meet some bounty hunter they know, Crosshair has spent most of his time on a secluded part of the beach, focused on correcting his aim. Everyone has tried to talk to him about it but unfortunately, that only made things worse.

Now Crosshair is more defensive than ever, determined to prove that he is perfectly capable of correcting his shaky hand by himself.

“Yeah but AZI said it might be some kind of mental block,” Omega sighs, subtly copying you as she closes her eyes too “if he doesn’t open up and let us help him, then how is he supposed to get better?”.

Her concern for Crosshair makes you smile, impressed by how she’s able to delicately balance trying to help her brother without being too overbearing.

The question lingers for a few moments before you open your eyes and glance down at her “And he’s already shot down your meditation idea?”.

Omega briefly mentioned the idea to you that morning and although you were sceptical, you encouraged her determination to help anyway.

“Of course he did,” she lets out a heavy sigh “saying he didn’t like it is an understatement”.

A comfortable silence grows between you both as you consider the situation. But before you can speak, Omega quickly becomes restless and blurts out “Can’t you try speaking with him? He’ll listen to you, I just know it!”.

It’s no secret that you and Crosshair were once close and you can only presume Omega has heard about this from the likes of Wrecker, who wouldn’t give a second thought about mentioning it.

"I can try but..." you trail off, hesitating to make a decision. Doubt clouds your judgement, stopping you from promising anything. After all, you know how stubborn and closed-minded Crosshair can be at times, especially when it comes to being vulnerable.

Omega's face lights up at your hesitant help. "Great! Sometimes trying is all it takes". She seems upbeat and enthusiastic as she stands “I was gonna go introduce Batcher to Mox, Stak and Deek anyways so it’s good to know Crosshair won’t be alone”.

Giving the girl a tight-lipped smile in response, Omega whistles for Batcher. With one last goodbye, she hurries off happily.

You wait until she’s gone before you sigh and slump down again. Although Crosshair has been back for a while now, the two of you have yet to have a proper reunion, leaving you both unsure of how to approach the situation.

Knowing you can’t put this off for forever, you begrudgingly get up and start the long descent down to the secluded beach.

The subtle change in weather appears to align with your mood, as the sun dips behind the clouds and a warm breeze begins to pick up. It causes the light fabric of your skirt to dance in the wind as if it has a mind of its own. But it’s only a momentary distraction as your thoughts swiftly return to Crosshair, focusing fully on him and the impending catch-up.

You and Crosshair were always close during the Clone Wars, constantly laughing at each other’s snide remarks, bickering simply for the sake of it and always trying to get a rise out of the other. Even back then, you knew where the constant teasing would eventually lead to… but then it didn’t.

Instead, the war came to an end and before you even got the opportunity to speak with Crosshair, the rest of the Batch had turned up at your door and told you that he had already picked his side.

Since then, you have been travelling with the batch. It took a long time to accept that whatever was between you and Crosshair was gone, whether that be a friendship or something more. That died the day the Republic did.

But in a strange twist of faith, Crosshair is back and so are your lingering feelings. Although, if it was difficult to confront this emotion before everything happened, it’s become utterly impossible now. Neither of you have mentioned it and yet you still catch his longing gaze whenever he thinks you’re not paying attention.

When you reach the beach, it’s exactly how you pictured; Crosshair is alone, his sniper positioned steadily on a rock as he tries to shoot the far off target. A blaster bolt sprints across the water as he fires, missing his target by a few inches. You hear him mutter something under his breath as he tries again.

Flicking his chewed up toothpick to the ground, Crosshair notices you. “Yes?” He asks impatiently, lining up another shot.

“You’ve been out here all day,” you state the obvious “Omega’s worried about you”.

Crosshair doesn’t reply immediately, first firing (and missing) again before he turns around just to make sure you see his eye roll. “Oh, is she?” His tone is underlined with sarcasm.

A huff falls from your lips and suddenly you know all too well why Omega was so irked after trying to help the man in front of you. Despite the scowl on your face, you refuse to fall into the usual bickering you once had with him.

“You know she is,” you sigh “maybe you should take a break, come have some lunch and forget about target practice for a while”.

He watches you for a moment, studying you the same way you’ve seen from the corner of your eye “And when did you become mother hen?”.

Scoffing, you walk closer, hugging yourself with your arms “Don’t act like that, you know you’re overworking yourself… Crosshair, please, you need to take care of yourself”.

The concern in your voice takes him by surprise but Crosshair quickly recovers as he mutters “Oh, so you’re worried about me now?”.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You bat back at him.

“You’ve hardly looked at me, nevermind speak to me since I’ve gotten back” he practically spits the words out.

You no longer hold back your glare “Like you’ve made any effort to talk to me!”.

“How can I when you don’t even look at me?” Crosshair challenges, his gaze unyielding as your annoyance fades as quick as it came.

Coming up to the rock he’s based at, you slide down against it to shield yourself from the wind. Crosshair follows suit and kneels beside you, waiting cautiously for your response.

Your tone holds a sense of sincerity as you speak, your words now free of any reservations. "I do look at you… of course I do," you confess with genuine intent, all annoyance and restraint vanishing within you.

“Then you must see me staring,” he almost whispers the words, watching you carefully “I thought you would have gotten the hint by now that I’m still interested”.

A soft smile graces your lips and as if taming a wild animal, you slowly reach out for his hand. Crosshair makes no attempt to stop you and you gently slip your hand into his before you tug him closer.

Settling his hand on to your lap, you begin to trace your finger up and down his palm until finally resting your hand delicately on his wrist. “Let me help,” you offer “seriously, Crosshair”.

“And how would you help?” Though the question almost seems backhanded, you know that’s just Crosshair being Crosshair.

The mischievous glint in your eye paired with the suggestive smirk plastered across your face doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

“How do you think?” you question.

He holds your gaze as if to challenge you to make the first move but you hold strong. This is your moment and you both know it.

A secluded beach? A chance for you both to finally reunite in a way you could only imagine? Both of your minds go to the same place.

You give his wrist a small yet reassuring squeeze and before you can make another comment, his lips are on yours.

With an intensity fuelled by pure need, he slams his lips against yours in a heated display of passion. This isn’t just a build up of years worth of longing for Crosshair. No, it’s much more than that. It’s an act of rebellion against the time he lost with you because of the Empire, both in spite of his own misplaced loyalty to them as well as his time on Tantiss.

The fiery kiss goes on for what feels like an eternity and yet the time seems far too brief when it finally comes to an end. The passion flaring between the two of you is intoxicating, causing you to crave more.

His fingers twitch on your lap, eager to do more for you. As if on cue, you both look down at his hand, your soft grasp still around his wrist.

“You have to be calm, be able to stay consistent with your shots if you want to hit the target, right?” you ask, trying not to smirk when you see his sudden confusion.

In a moment like this, you seriously decide to give him some advice on shooting? Crosshair nods, silently waiting to see where this is going.

“Maybe you’re approaching this from the wrong perspective,” you suggest, noticing how his attention shifts to your lips “you’re focusing on your sniper abilities, looking to re-learn your techniques… but you need to re-learn how to use your fingers in order to effectively use your sniper”.

“And how do you propose I do that?” his voice is low, causing the skin on your arms to prickle with goosebumps. You can feel the effect of his voice in your panties.

With your free hand, you begin to bunch up your skirt, first revealing your thighs and then a glimpse of your underwear. Crosshair can’t help it as a groan escapes from his throat.

You guide his hand closer to your clothed core before Crosshair takes initiative and brushes his fingers teasingly against you.

He can feel the warmth beneath your underwear, feeling more assured in his movements when he hears you take in a sharp breath. But even with the small boost in confidence, Crosshair can’t help it as a small tremor courses through his hand.

“Take your time,” your voice is soft but firm in your reassurance “and if this is too much then we can stop”. Fearful that you’ve pushed him too far, you slowly begin to close your legs as you nervously fiddle with your skirt “I didn’t mean to push you so-”.

You stop your apologetic remark when his firm grip stops your legs from meeting. A brief look of disbelief flicks across your face as he spreads your legs to his liking.

“No,” there is no hesitancy in Crosshair’s voice as he takes control of the situation “you started this, don’t go shy on me now”. This time it’s your turn to nod silently.

His fingers glide down to caress you again, this time feeling the dampness from beneath your underwear. Each reaction you give, whether a sharp intake of breath or a slight quiver up your spine, only serves to fuel Crosshair’s determination. He savors these small responses, revelling in how you leave each reaction so bare for him to see.

Crosshair smirks “If this is how you react to such simple touches, do you think you could handle me touching you without anything between us?”.

“You’d be surprised with how much I can handle” you taunt.

Oh how he has missed how you challenge him. Your snarky response is rewarded with a kiss but before you can melt into it, Crosshair brings both of his hands to your hips and swiftly pulls your panties down.

The eager sight that greets him brings a smile to his face. Crosshair can feel his excitement growing but before he can get ahead of himself, he’s committed to take care of you first.

Crosshair teasingly brings just one finger down to your core. A slight tremor causes his finger to waver but after a second, it stops as desire overtakes him. His finger teases you, feeling just how much you want him. Before he can make another teasing comment, you pull him in for another kiss, unable to help yourself.

Crosshair is quick to take control of the kiss, simultaneously pushing his tongue into your mouth as he sinks his long finger into you. You welcome all of him, moaning into his mouth. Taking your sounds as encouragement, Crosshair adds a second digit to your core.

He pushes in until he’s knuckle deep, successfully finding that spot within you. Crosshair takes your advice to heart. He keeps a consistent rhythm, thrusting his fingers inside of you. He listens to each involuntary squeak and moan, adjusting his speed and pressure of each pump of his fingers to whichever makes you react the most.

There’s not a slight tremble in his entire hand, his attention solely on you. There is no room for nerves or doubt to creep in and cause his hand to shake. That seems almost impossible now, especially with you like this in front of him.

There is nothing but you and him in this moment, the rhythmic movement of his fingers serving as proof that he has full control.

He buries his fingers into you, pressing the palm of his hand against your clit and delivering powerful jolts of pleasure into your body.

“That’s it,” he coos at your moans “you’re nearly there, aren’t you?”.

A flutter fills your chest as your breathing becomes more rapid. "Y-yes,” you manage with a strained voice, your mind becoming overwhelmed with arousal “keep doing that”.

You squeeze around his fingers, feeling the tight coil in your lower stomach getting closer and closer to finally snapping.

Your body responds to his touch in the most natural of ways, your back arching and head bowing in a display of utter pleasure. Your hand instinctively searches for contact, grabbing hold of his knee as the overwhelming sensation begins to consume you.

Your legs twitch, eyes rolling back in your head and a rather loud moan escapes your lips as the satisfaction you feel begins to peak.

Bliss floods your entire being and the mixture of your moans and whimpers blend together in a melodic harmony. Every movement of his hand guides you through the waves of ecstasy, sending shivers through your body.

Crosshair hums approvingly as you come down from your sigh. Almost reluctantly, he takes his hand away from you and examines his sticky but steady fingers. “My hand hasn’t been able to do so much and remain so still since… well, ever since Tantiss” he comments.

Trying to give your shaky legs more time to recover, you fix your panties before you reposition your skirt. Stealing a glance at Crosshair, you’re glad to see you’re not the only one with flushed cheeks. You smile almost bashfully as you lean on the rock to stand.

Crosshair is there to help, gently holding your upper arm as you steady yourself. Despite the sass you gave him earlier and the bliss he just brought you now, you find it hard to maintain eye contact.

Clearing your throat, you try to regain some of that boldness from before “Well then… good luck with your target practice, I’ll go see if the others have made contact yet”.

“What?!” the sound is almost foreign to you; the sound of an utterly bamboozled Crosshair.

Pushing yourself off the rock, you feel his grasp slip away from your arm. You continue to walk as you turn around to savor his shocked expression.

“What about me?” he asks, trying to be inconspicuous as he gestures to the tent in his pants “I thought this was about helping me?”.

“Yeah, I know,” you reply with a smirk “you’ll get your reward when you hit the target”. With a wink, you turn your back to him and begin the ascent back.

Crosshair’s jaw hangs open as he watches you go, and he can’t help but laugh at your audacity.

#the bad batch crosshair #bad batch crosshair #crosshair x reader #crosshair x you #tbb crosshair #the bad batch fanfiction #tbb fanfiction #clone trooper crosshair #I just wanted to write smut lol #idk if this implicates that the reader has some magic... ahem... parts #but either way it sure helped Crosshair!#smut #tbb season 3 #the bad batch season 3 spoilers #tbb spoilers

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hugmekenobi · 1 year ago

Text

S3: The Bad Batch (1)

Chapter One: Confined

Gif by @ventresses

Hunter x femaleJedi!reader

Series Rating: 18+

Series Summary: Ever since Eriadu, Clone Force 99 had been a fractured squad. Months have passed but you're finally back with the Batch but Omega is still out there and you won't stop until you find her again.

Chapter Summary: Imprisoned on Tantiss, Omega finds herself needing to adjust to life there whilst the rest of you decide on your next mission to give you intel you desperately need.

Masterlist for S1 and S2

Genre: Friends (idiots) to Lovers (we're in the lovers stage now)

Chapter Warnings: Very mild canon-typical violence, one use of y/n, Hemlock, brief wound description, nightmares with emotional hurt/comfort, my interpretation of various people's headspaces, slight angst, me going off script/episode plot in the last part, and remember, italics represent silent Jedi communications

Word Count: 5K

Author's notes: And we're off! Happy Star Wars Day!! We are pretty much just following the plot of this episode, save for a bit at the end so it might feel like a bit of a slow start, but bear with me! Technically, this will also wind up being a 'fix-it' fic so just stick with me on that process too! Hope you enjoy! And I have already started working on the next chapter! Also, I am just going off my past taglist so anyone who wants added/removed, please let me know!

21 days since Eriadu

Water dripped from the faulty tap in the small cell as light crept through the bars on the window.

Omega stared out into the open space with a forlorn sigh as she envied the birds that sounded their freedom as they chirped their usual song. She stepped down from her bed and started pacing anxiously as she waited for Emerie to make her scheduled appearance.

Sure enough, a couple seconds later, the door opened, and Emerie stepped inside.

“Good morning, Omega. How are you feeling today?” Emerie asked.

“Like a prisoner.” Omega replied curtly. “I want to leave.”

“Prisoner?” Emerie repeated, surprised. “Omega, you are no such thing. It will take time to adjust, but you will acclimate. It is far safer in here than out there. Come. We have much to do.” With that Emerie turned to leave.

Omega reached under her bed and brought out her box before she followed Emerie out into the corridor. The grey colouring of her new clothes matched the other scientists and the non-descript design of the inside of the base.

They turned a corner to pass a squad of clone prisoners being escorted past and Omega let out a gasp as she recognised the figure at the front of the line but despite her effort to look at him, he only stared at the floor.

Omega entered the lab and watched in quiet upset as the clone was subjected to a blood sample being taken from the back of his hand. They all had similar expressions of pain and defeat written across their faces and she wished she knew how to stop it.

Emerie placed the test tube into one of the free slots in the tray that Omega was holding before she took the datapad out and created a record for Omega. “And now I need to take a blood sample from you.”

“From me?” Omega repeated. “Why?”

“The samples are used for various research projects. All of us serve a purpose here.” Emerie explained. “It won’t hurt.” She added as a means of reassurance before she readied the equipment to take the sample.

Omega sat up on the bench. “Can you at least tell me where my brothers are? Or my friend, (Y/N)?”

“I do not know.” Emerie replied simply.

Omega held her hand out and braced against the sting of the needle as her blood was drawn. “If you’re a clone like me, how come I never saw you on Kamino?”

“Because I was sent elsewhere until Dr. Hemlock took me under his wing. He saw potential in me, like Nala Se sees in you.”

“I never knew that I had a sister. It’s nice not being alone.” She offered Emerie a small smile, but it wasn’t quite returned.

“Head to the lab.” Emerie ordered as she took the device away and placed Omega’s sample in with the others. “Nala Se is expecting these.”

As the security scan was completed, Omega entered the lab and walked over to Nala Se who was busy placing more blood vials into a centrifuge.

“Thank you, Omega.” Nala Se said as she took the tray from her and started processing the data from the samples and it was through that that she saw the concerning sight that Omega was now a part of the system. “Omega, your sample was taken?”

“Mn-hmm. Emerie said it was routine.”

Nala Se deleted the record from the system before she destroyed the physical sample.

Omega watched this with curiosity. “Why are you discarding it?”

“Tell no one.” Nala Se replied before she took the other samples to the centrifuge. “It is safer this way.”

Omega knew the Kaminoian well enough to pick up on the worry in her voice. “This research, it’s not like what we did on Kamino, is it?”

“No, it is not.”

“I don’t understand. Why did they bring me here?” Omeag asked, hoping that if Emerie couldn’t give her the answers that she sought then Nala Se would have some idea.

“To ensure that I co-operate. The Empire seeks the reproduction of a genetic M-count, but the experiments on the specimens have yet to yield the desired result.”

The M-count was something she was aware of but nothing else Nala Se was saying made much sense to her. “What specimens? You mean the clones?”

“No. Not the clones.”

Any further elaboration was cut off as the lab doors opened and Omega turned to see who it was.

“How nice to see you reunited with your trusted assistant.” Hemlock commented to Nala Se. He massaged the palm of his gloved hand. “I’m sure Omega’s presence here will only strengthen your efforts. Shall we head to the vault?” He waved a hand in front of him towards the doors.

Omega went to leave but Nala Se’s hand on her shoulder stopped her from advancing.

“See to your remaining tasks.” Nala Se instructed before they left the lab.

Omega watched them from the window and wondered what was so special about this vault Hemlock had mentioned but she didn’t have the means to find that out yet. For now, she had little choice but to head to her next chore of the day.

She glared at the droid as he shocked one of the Lurca hounds and she irritably scooped some food up before sending it through the hatch into the bowl of the hound she was currently tending to. As the droid’s attention was focused on something else, she took the opportunity to gather more loose straw from the ground and hid it in the bottom compartment of her box.

She carried on to the last cage to see her favourite of the hounds. “Hi Batcher.” She whispered to the hound curled up at the far end of the cage but her only reply was a low growl. It was then she noticed the bowl was overflowing with uneaten food. “Hmm. Still won’t eat the food, huh? I don’t blame you.” She stole a quick glance back to the droid to see he was still paying her no attention and she took the chance to fish out her lunch from earlier. “Here, I saved you some of mine.”

Batcher got to her feet but snarled and pressed herself aggressively against the bars of the enclosure.

In the shock, Omega had dropped the nuggets inside the cage, but she watched as Batcher ate them and swiftly retreated to the back of the space. “Better? I’ll bring you more tomorrow.” She stood up and left to do what she had been wanting to do the entire day.

As she slowly walked down the corridor, she glanced between each of the cells, the sounds of teeth chattering and coughing made her concern grow as she saw the effects this place was having on all of the clones here.

She made her way to the cell she’d been searching for. “Crosshair.” She called quietly. “I tried to come earlier, but there were too many guards watching me.”

Crosshair sighed. “You shouldn’t be down here at all.”

“Well, how else are we gonna plan an escape?”

“There is no ‘we.’ And there is no escape.” Crosshair sat up. “I’ve already tried.”

“Every stronghold has a weak point.” Omega said. “Maybe I can convince Emerie to help. She’s one of us.”

She sounded just like them and that was the last thing he needed. “Not every clone is your ally. You trust too easily.”

“Maybe you don’t trust enough.” Omega countered but as she said that she noticed a tremor in his right hand which he tried to conceal with by holding it with his left. “Crosshair?”

“Just…” He sighed again. He didn’t need her pity or her concern. “Go, before you make things worse for both of us.”

Omega went to leave but she stopped herself. “There has to be a way out of here. I’ll find it.” She didn’t expect a reply, so she didn’t wait for one, instead she left now.

Crosshair watched her go. Even from that small interaction, he’d already seen so much of them in her and that would either make her or break her in this place and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be around to watch.

Darkness had fallen and it was that time again where she scratched the next tally into the wall. She brought the Lula hay doll out and held it close to her chest- it wasn’t much but it was the reminder of home she needed. If you truly weren’t here, then Omega knew you all would be looking for her, but she was going to do whatever it took to make that easier.

5 months later

The dripping water, the sunlight creeping in, the birds chirping, the concealing of her doll at the bottom of her box… the routine was all so familiar now. She was already standing at the ready for when Emerie opened the door and, like clockwork, it whirred open to reveal the older clone who had the same opening remark she always did.

“Good morning, Omega.”

“Good morning.”

“Let’s begin.” Emerie led the way out.

Yet again, they walked the same route to the testing centre and yet again she passed Crosshair in the corridor, but she had long since learned that trying for any sort of recognition from him in this environment was pointless, so she kept her gaze down too.

She let her blood be drawn, her hand was now numb to the sensation, and she took all the samples to the lab where Nala Se once again destroyed all traces of her sample. She hadn’t been able to learn anything more about the vault or the specimens but what she had gathered was that you, Hunter, and Wrecker definitely were not here and that made the thought of escape feel far more feasible and appealing.

The lurca hounds were the same as they always were but as she made her way to Batcher’s spot, she saw the hound tending to a nasty cut on her front right leg. “Batcher? K-9X1! Hurry!” She yelled to the droid.

“What is the issue?” The droid asked as he approached the girl.

“Batcher’s hurt.” Omega informed him.

“LH-201 sustained injures during the nightly patrol. If her wounds do not heal, the subject will be terminated.”

“Then do something to help her!” Omega demanded.

“I am not a medical droid. It is not part of my programming.”

Omega could only watch as the droid merely walked away, and she turned to the sound of Batcher’s whimpers of pain. She wouldn’t accept termination as Batcher’s fate, if the droid wouldn’t help Batcher, then she would.

She ran over to the medical kit on the wall and took the bacta out but when she reached into the kennel to try and tend to the wound, Batcher snapped at her. “Now look. I need to clean your wound for it to get better. It’ll only hurt for a second, so put those teeth away and behave.” She said sternly but it seemed to do the trick as Batcher let her do it. “See? That’s not so bad.”

Omega worked in silence for a few seconds before she spoke to the hound again, “You know, I have a friend that would’ve been able to help us get along a lot faster.” She said warmly as she continued to apply the bacta to the wound. “But I think we’re getting there now.” She smiled as Batcher gave her hand a tentative lick once she finished with the bacta.

“I dressed Batcher’s wounds as best as I could. At least she didn’t bite me. That’s progress, right?” she looked at Crosshair, but he gave her nothing, so she continued talking. “If she doesn’t get better soon…” She sighed. “Maybe I can steal a med kit from the lab and see if there’s anything I can use-”

“Stop.” Crosshair interrupted her with a frustrated sigh. Clearly the others hadn’t done a very good job of making her stay on course and now he needed to be the one to remind her. “What is your primary objective?”

“Escape.” Omega answered.

“Then stop wasting time on lost causes. Forget the hound, forget me, and complete the mission.”

“Not without you.”

“If I get the chance to escape, I wouldn’t think twice about leaving you behind.”

“You’re lying! You wouldn’t do that. You’re my brother.”

She had been insisting on that for months now, no matter how many times he tried to push her away and he didn’t know how much more of that he could tolerate hearing. “I’m not them.” Crosshair snapped.

Omega couldn’t accept that. “I’m not giving up, Crosshair. I won’t let you either.” She got up to leave.

Crosshair stood up with a heavy breath and called out to her retreating figure. “Omega.”

Omega stopped and turned back to face him.

“Don’t risk anything for me. I belong in here.” He said, meaning every word.

“None of us belong in here.” She replied before walking away.

Her door whirred open before the usual time, and she woke up with a gasp as two troopers entered her room. She got to her feet and concealed her doll behind her. “What’s going on?” She asked Emerie.

“Surprise inspection. Standard procedure.” Emerie informed her.

“Clear.” One of the commandos said.

However, the other noticed the doll hidden behind her back and he tore it from her grip and handed it to Emerie.

“We’ve been over this before, Omega. Personal items are forbidden.” Emerie chastised her. “I’ll dispose of it.”

“Don’t!” Omega protested. “Please, Emerie.”

“It is for your own good. Come, we have work to do.”

It was a welcome sight to see Batcher so happy to greet her this time around. “Hey, Batcher.” Omega said fondly and she saw the wound had nearly scarred over. “Look at you. You’re almost at a hundred percent.” She gave her a soft scratch on the jaw.

“Did you not read the standing order for the day?” The droid yanked her to her feet. “LH-201 has been slated for termination.”

“What? Why? She’s healed.” Omega argued.

“The creature’s recent domesticated disposition has been deemed a liability.”

“But that’s my fault, not hers.” Omega tried to resist being pulled away, with Batcher also barking in protest, but the droid’s grip was strong.

The droid groaned. “It is protocol.”

Omega finally managed to weasel her way out of his grasp and steal his datapad but the droid reacted swiftly and started to pull it away from her. She allowed herself to be tugged airborne and she braced her feet against the droid’s torso and leaned back, the momentum giving her the victory. She got away from the droid with the datapad in her hands and she quickly activated one of the large crates on the ceiling above and it fell on top of K-9X1. She grabbed his electro-staff and shocked him with it but not before he had the chance to call security so now, she had to act swiftly.

Omega used the datapad to open the exit hatch in Batcher’s kennel and deactivated her collar. “Batcher, come!” She ran over to the bars and reached in to take the collar off the hound. “Now you need to run away and not come back, okay?” It pained her to let her one close companion go but it needed to happen. She patted her snout. “And try not to bite anyone.”

Batcher hesitated and whined at her.

“I can’t go with you yet.” Omega explained. “I have to get Crosshair first. Batcher, go!” Omega watched her run down the tunnel with both relief and sadness, but she’d get out soon too, she knew she would.

“Breaking the rules, I see.”

Omega jumped and turned around to see Hemlock standing before her and Emerie standing behind him.

“And releasing a weak lurca hound into the wild? I didn’t know you were so cruel, Omega.”

“Me? You were gonna terminate her.” Omega said angrily.

“And you believe your actions changed that outcome?” When Omega faltered in her reply, he kept speaking, “Now some rotations ago, one of our shuttles crashed just beyond this mountain. But that is not what killed them. No, it was the creatures that roam the jungle. Even our strongest lurca hounds struggle against what’s beyond these walls. And your domestication of LH-201 only made her vulnerable.”

“You don’t know she won’t survive.” Omega disputed. “She deserves a chance.”

“Oh, the flawed logic of an idealistic child.” Hemlock’s tone fuelled with quiet mockery. “Emotion and sentiment have no place within these walls. You would do well to remember that.”

She wasn’t afraid of his threats anymore. “Or what?”

Seeing the way he turned to look at Omega again, Emerie hastily intervened. “Doctor, perhaps I should return Omega to her room.”

Hemlock held a hand up to stop her from going any further and kept his gaze on Omega. “You have more to say?”

“I know you brought me here to make Nala Se cooperate. You need her. She won’t work for you if you hurt me.” Omega said confidently.

Hemlock only laughed. “Of course I’m not gonna hurt you, Omega.” He inhaled deeply. “Your friend in the detention block, however, may not be as fortunate.”

“Don’t hurt Crosshair! He didn’t do anything.”

“I did have plans for CT-9904, despite his resistance to re-education, but I am willing to make a few sacrifices if your misbehaviour continues.” He bent from the waist and leaned down towards her. “Actions always have consequences. Sometimes not in the ways we imagine.”

Now that threat was one that she knew he would follow through on and she didn’t want to be responsible for Crosshair suffering even more than he was already.

“Take her back to her room and restrict her access.” Hemlock ordered Emerie as he exited.

Omega left with her a few seconds later.

Night had fallen and Omega sat huddled on the edge of her bed, but she heard the door open. “Go away.” She said with a sigh, not even bothering to look at Emerie this time.

“Omega…”

“Please… just go.” She requested, hoping the misery in her voice would be enough to convince Emerie to leave and she was grateful to hear her footsteps retreat and she angled herself towards the door to see that her hay Lula had been returned to her. She picked it up, but the sound of a lurca howling brought her back to the window.

She attempted in vain to peer through to bars to the outside for any sign of Batcher, but she couldn’t see anything. She then looked at the growing collection of tallies that represented the months that she’d been here. It may take more time, but now more than ever she knew she needed to get out and she needed to take Crosshair with her.

Hunter’s eyes snapped open, and his heart was pounding in his chest, but his surroundings told him it had been another dream. The ship was still steadily travelling through hyperspace towards Oba Diah, and the three of you had been using the long journey to catch up on some much-needed rest before the mission would begin.

Reaching out to Roland Durand of all people had felt like a long shot but when he said he could help if you only found the Pyke that had disgraced him and the Durand name, it had been an easy decision to accept but it had done nothing to quell the worry and fear that coursed through his veins. He sat up and began the usual routine of deep breathing.

Ever since you’d fully opened yourself up to him and the Force again, he didn’t need to wake you anymore when this happened, you would feel everything he felt and wake up a couple seconds after he did, and this time was no different. “Which one this time?” You whispered; your tone filled with tender understanding.

“I’m sorry.” Hunter rasped as he steadied his breathing. He hated that this was having a knock-on effect on you two, especially since your own sleep had only now started to get better. You were another person he was still finding a way to let down.

You shushed him softly as you sat up next to him. You have nothing to be sorry for. “Which one?” You prompted again. You knew his sleep had been haunted by more than just the reminders of what had happened in the recent months, it was these new nightmares that were plaguing him more and more.

Hunter released a heavy breath. “Same one as the nights before. I can see her, she’s right in front of me but no matter what I do, I can’t reach her and- and then she’s taken away.”

You pressed your lips to his shoulder, and you rubbed soothing circles on his back. “This mission for Durand is another step in the right direction. You’re doing all you can. We will find her, Hunter.”

Hunter shook his head and swung his legs out to the side of the bunk. “We took too long to find you, and you weren’t even really hiding.” Hunter countered without glancing back at you.

He didn’t need to look at you for you to feel his distress. You reached a hand out to his shoulder to try and get him to face you again. “Hunter-”

He gently but firmly pushed your hand away. “I’m going to go over what we’ve got again. Go back to sleep, I’ll be back soon.”

You sighed and watched him go to the cockpit. You’d seen the shift in him as had Wrecker. The relief of your reunion had long since passed and he, like the two of you, was getting more desperate to find Omega but it was affecting him far more than he was willing to talk about. His once calm and collected demeanour had vanished and he was taking on missions with little care for the risk or conditions they came with and this mission for Durand was no exception. Whilst you and Wrecker were happy to agree, there had been little discussion over the matter or the conditions of the deal. The two of you had done what you could, but you knew the only true thing that would bring him comfort would be finding Omega again.

Although a strong part of you wanted to follow him, you knew that right now, he needed the space, and you would give him that, but you couldn’t stand by and watch him drive himself into the ground for much longer.

You woke up again to find the space next to you ice cold and you knew that Hunter had not returned at all, and he wasn’t planning too. You tossed the blanket aside and silently walked towards the cockpit where you could hear the faint tapping of fingers against the keys of a datapad.

You leaned against the entryway to the cockpit and studied him for a moment as he kept his focus on Tech’s datapad. He looked utterly exhausted. His head drooped every few seconds, his shoulders were hunched, and weariness was written all across his face. It pained you to see him like this.

Aware that his brother was sleeping a few metres away, his words to you were quiet, “I said I’d be back soon.” He continued to tap through the intel that he’d been anxiously scanning for any detail he could’ve missed.

“You said that hours ago.” You matched his volume and straightened up. “You need to talk to me. Shutting down like this isn’t good for you.”

“I’m not shutting down. I’m doing what needs to be done to get Omega back.” He couldn’t stop. He’d let her down for long enough. The answer was there, and he kept missing it and he couldn’t stand it.

You fully came into the cockpit and kneeled in front of him. “You may be a leader, Hunter, but you’re not alone. This isn’t just the fear that we’re not going to get her back because you know we’re not going to stop until we do. There’s something else you’re afraid of.” You searched his face for a sign of what more it could be, but he wasn’t giving anything away. You kept your voice low but kind, “What is it?”

Hunter ignored you and kept his eyes fixed on the words on the screen in his possession, but he wasn’t reading them anymore.

“Hunter, put it down.” You attempted to take the datapad but his hold was too tight.

“I can’t stop. I can’t. She-” He cut himself off and swallowed thickly. “I can’t stop.” He repeated again, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re no good to anyone if you’re too exhausted to think straight.” You said with concern. “Talk to me, please.”

Hunter silently shook his head. The responsibility of all of this was on him, you shouldn’t be worrying about him now.

You knew how hard this was and he rarely allowed himself those moments of vulnerability, but he’d been there for you countless times, it was now your turn to be the one he could lean on. “You’ve helped me through so much, Hunter.” You placed one hand on his tattooed cheek and stroked your thumb along his cheekbone and whether he meant it or not, you felt him relax into your touch. “Let me help you now.” You whispered as your other hand fanned across the datapad and started to push it out of his grasp. “Put it down.”

“I-”

“Put it down.” You repeated again, applying more pressure now as you felt his resistance fade and relief coursed through you as he let you take it from him.

Hunter finally let the datapad slip from his grasp and he let the tiredness take over and his body sagged against the chair.

“What else is it that’s bothering you?” You came back from putting the datapad away and crouched again and laid your hands on his knees.

Hunter hesitated for a moment but for this first time since he woke up, he caught your eyes and he saw nothing but love and concern behind them and he swallowed thickly. “All she wanted was to not end up an experiment and that’s exactly what I’ve let happen.”

“Hunter…”

The words just tumbled from him now. “I let down Crosshair, I let down T- I let down Tech. I was too late to save them, but I still had you, I still had Wrecker and I still had Omega. Then you and Omega were ripped away from us and that was another thing I couldn’t stop. I relied too much on Wrecker when we were looking for you, I wasn’t who he needed me to be, and I can feel that happening again. I can’t be too late again. I can’t let another person down… I can’t let Omega down.” He turned away from you once more.

Your heart broke for him. “You have done no such thing.” You brought your hand back to his face to keep his eyes on you. “Listen to me, you didn’t let them down and you weren’t too late for them. At that time, Crosshair had made his choice, and you wouldn’t have been able to change his mind. Tech, he-” You felt the emotions rise up in your throat, choking the next words you were going to say. After pausing for a second, you cleared your throat and started again, “Tech made his choice. That wasn’t you being too late for them. As for Wrecker, he won’t and doesn’t think that. You’re his brother first, Hunter, he would never think that.” You paused for a moment to let that sink in before you added, “And you weren’t too late for me either. I’m right here with you and I’m not going anywhere.”

Hunter’s jaw tightened as he listened to the words you said but he couldn’t quite bring himself to fully believe them.

Still seeing the reluctance behind his eyes, you took his hand and placed it over your heart. “Feel that? I’m not worried, I’m not doubting you. We’re getting her back, you have not failed her, Hunter and she’ll know we’re looking for her. She’ll know that.”

Hunter closed his eyes and let the comfort of your steady heartbeat flood his senses.

After some time had passed, you decided it was time for him to get some proper rest before you arrived on Oba Dia. “Come on.” You took his hands, and a gentle tug encouraged him enough to get to his feet.

Hunter was so tired he could barely register his movements; all he knew was somehow you were getting his feet moving and leading him back to your bunk.

“Lie down.” You instructed gently as you reached the bed.

Hunter did as you said, and he felt you slide in next to him, he willed his weary body to turn and hold you like he usually did.

You shook your head and nudged him, so his back was facing you. You wrapped your arm around him and put your hand in his and placed it over his chest. “Just close your eyes and breathe with me.”

“This mission’s gonna help us somehow, right?” Hunter murmured with a tired voice.

You planted a soft kiss to the hinge of his jaw. Yes, it will. Drug syndicates were not high on your list on the people you were looking to stay on an even keel for. The Pykes weren’t going to stop you from doing whatever it took to get to her.

Next Chapter>

Tagging: @noeasyisnoisy, @fuckoffthanos, @tpwkcalli, @graciexmarvel, @arctrooper69, @starwarsnerd111, @nightmonkeysstuff, @brujaporfavor, @flyingkangaroo, @sunkissedclones, @ladytano420, @keep-calm-and-drink-caf, @yyourmotherr, @xxeiraxx, @dragonrider9905, @skellymom, @lokigirlszendaya

#the bad batch #the bad batch season 3 #the bad batch s3 #hunter x reader #hunter x femalejedi!reader #hunter x fem!reader #hunter x female!reader #sergeant hunter x reader #sergeant hunter #hunter tbb #hunter the bad batch #the bad batch hunter x you #hunter x y/n #tbb hunter x reader #the bad batch fanfiction #star wars #angst #hurt/comfort #friends to lovers

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izxz-is-deranged · 16 days ago

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Baptism by Fire | Matt Murdock x BAU!Reader

Summary: You love your position at the BAU, but your life is uprooted when Hotch sends you on a temporary assignment to the FBI field office in New York. Apparently, someone had the bright idea to make a deal with a crime boss named Wilson Fisk, and now it's your job to build a profile to determine if the information he gives can be trusted. As you realize quickly things aren't as they seem, you must find a way to protect yourself- If protecting yourself has something to do with a masked vigilante... That's no fault of yours.

But this man, Matthew Murdock, has the uncanny ability to tell when you're lying. And that's dangerous for you, someone who's life is built on the sands of a buried past… So what happens when your assignment ends? How well can secrets stay secret when murder will always out?

multiple crossovers | slow burn

A/N: Starts about ep3 of S3 of Daredevil! Reader uses a fake name, and can be seen as an original character if desired. Future storylines may involve Reader's past coming back to haunt her (Supernatural) and the trials and tribulations of her day job (Criminal Minds)

< ao3 link > <Masterlist>

8: Doors That Can't Close

You stare at yourself in Matt’s bathroom mirror. Sometimes, you don’t recognize this version of you. This professional, FBI profiler and not the scrappy teenager you never truly grew out of. You see her echoes today, in the split near your brow that was now pinned closed with a butterfly bandage and the aching bruises in your shoulder. You’ve looked worse, to be fair. She has looked worse.

Your shirt had been ruined by the prison riot. Splotches of blood in varying sizes stain it. Shame. It was one of your nicer ones. You toss it in the bin in the bathroom. Your pants had been almost unscathed by the events, (Thankfully, they were a dark color, you couldn’t see any stains on them) but if you pulled them to your nose, the faint, stinging smell of tear gas laced the fabric.

The bareness of yourself looks back at you in the mirror. On the left side of your rib cage, hidden by almost every outfit you wore, was an anti-possession tattoo. You got it when you were freshly 18, because, as Bobby put it, “No Demon’s wearing you, kid. I won’t let it happen.” So you trade out the charm bracelet for the ink. You trail your fingers over it for a second, outlining the five points of the star encased in the simplified ring of fire. Sometimes, you forget it’s there. Its protection silent, like it was constantly waiting to be of use again. To you, it didn’t just ward off demon possession, it was a sign of a past that was covered by the facade of your new life.

Matt had been kind enough to give you some sweater to change into. It’s a rusty maroon and must’ve been some sort of cashmere. As you slip it over your head, the softness of it cradles your exhaustion, as the crash from all the adrenaline earlier finally hits you. You’d been in fight or flight mode since the prison, and that didn’t fully dissipate until you stood alone in the quiet, unfamiliar bathroom allowing you to finally feel the effects of your injuries. Dull pain throbs just under where that paperweight connected in your brow, resulting in a growing headache. Your vision swims as you move. You steady yourself by holding onto the sink.

You take a deep, shuddering breath. You used to be a menace about stealing clothes. Raiding the flannel wardrobes of Sam and Dean when they’d visit, trying desperately to match into that life by mirroring them. But they never quite fit, did they? You slowed as you grew, only snaking a couple old love’s shirts during the brief stints you dated in college. The last time you’d worn someone else’s clothes, it had been Morgan’s sweatshirt. A particularly nasty case resulted in you ruining your jacket with corpse water during the dead of winter. All you remember was how strong Morgan’s cologne was, it was almost unbearable— Like it clung to the very atoms of the garment.

It’s odd to you, how quickly comforting the feel of Matt’s sweater was. It wasn’t overpowering like Morgan’s, or too large and ratty like the pill-balled flannels of the past… It sat somewhere just right. And if you didn’t mind saying, you thought it suited you, looking in the mirror. Perhaps you’d forget to return it.

Your phone rings, startling you out of your thoughts.

Shit . It’s Nadeem.

You compose yourself, flicking through all manner of lies you were about to spout. You told him you’d be back by now. He couldn’t be in the pocket of Fisk, you imagine if he knew about the prison he’d never bother to call again. You tap the answer button.

“Hello?” You croak, realizing how raspy your voice had become from the yelling earlier. It echoes around the small bathroom.

“Singer- Where the hell are you? You’ve been gone for hours. Internal Affairs is here, they’re ready to interview Fisk.”

Lie. Lie. Lie.

“I- Uh… I got… mugged.” You swallow. Not terrible. It’s actually believable, which is a relief. It’s a good excuse for your beat-up face.

“What? Seriously ? In broad daylight?” Suddenly, all manner of frustration disappears from his voice and is replaced with urgent concern. “Are you alright? Are you at a police station? Hospital?”

You look at the surrounding bathroom. “Just about to leave the police station. I’m fine, really. I put up a fight anyway. Idiot ran off when he realized I was a Fed.”

Nadeem accepts it so quickly as truth. He’s so trusting for an Agent. It’s probably why Fisk sought him out in the first place. “What a warm welcome to the city, Christ,” He says, taking a deep breath, “Okay. Just– Take your time. I’ll let the other Agents know you’re delayed. You don’t have to come back today if you don’t want to.”

You appreciate the sentiment, even though it wasn’t in your plans to return to the hotel yet. Part of you, the vindictive side, wants to show back up just to taunt Fisk. Look him in the eyes and give him a telepathic: Haha, you tried motherfucker. It wasn’t smart, though. It would be an unnecessary risk to throw yourself back into his path right now. You didn’t get this far being reckless.

“Thank you, Nadeem,” You breath out.

You disconnect the call and exit the bathroom.

Matt is up, and changed into an old green hoodie and sweats. He’s standing in the kitchen, and was just swallowing a painkiller by the look of it. On his face now sat a cheap looking pair of black sunglasses. It obscures his eyes, blocking off a portion of his face. You tilt your head, realizing he’d been missing glasses all day. You wonder why he decided to put them back on now.

“Nice shades,” you comment.

“You can’t go back to the Presidential Hotel. As soon as you step through the doors Fisk will finish the job,” He says bluntly, leaning forward on the counter and ignoring your comment.

“You heard that?” Shit, his ears are sensitive. You realize you basically have no privacy in his presence. “That’s kinda creepy.”

“Where are you staying?”

You sigh deeply, “...The Presidential Hotel.”

Even from across the apartment, you watch his jaw tighten. He wipes his face, obviously frustrated. “ Of course you are ,” He mutters, before walking out of the kitchen. Matt’s light with his steps, and he’s still trying to hide the pain he’s in. “You can stay here tonight. We’ll find Evans tomorrow.”

“I can still go out today. It’s not too late in the afternoon,” you argue. You’d already shot a message to Garcia and she’d sent you a sizable file on the man. There’s still daylight, and there will be for another couple hours. “Why waste time?”

“Because you’re crashing from earlier and the effects of that concussion are starting to hit. If you want to be up and walking tomorrow, you’d rest now.” Matt speaks so confidently, you’re about to take his words at face value.

“I have a concussion?” You ask, brow furrowing. It made sense, you hadn’t even considered the possibility yet. It explains the dizziness behind your eyes you’ve been intent on ignoring, but you were more curious how he figured it out.

Taking the hint, he explains, “There’s heat behind the cut in your eyebrow, pain and swelling near the bone. Your heart rate has also dropped, and your footsteps are unsteadier.”

A bewildered and impressed look crosses your face. “You’d make a killing as a doctor, you know that?”

Matt shrugs. “You can have the bed. I recommend getting off your feet sooner rather than later. There’s no food here but there’s a Thai place on the corner that delivers.” He turns away from you, back to the kitchen, leaving you to your own devices.

There was still plenty of time to go check into a new hotel. You don’t have to take him up on staying here. Then the thought crosses your mind… you probably are safer with the blind vigilante, especially with his super senses. If anyone came after either of you, he’d know well before it was too late.

You have to admit, this is an odd situation to be in. Matthew Murdock yesterday was just a name on a file, and now, if you wanted to stay alive, you were pretty much tethered to him. He also just happened to be the vigilante you fought last night, and it all seemed like some sort of cosmic coincidence. He’d said, not even 30 minutes earlier, that you didn’t have to talk. That you weren’t friends. The less you knew about each other the better. You’d been inclined to agree, except for the itching curiosity at the back of your mind. You want to dig into his head, his motivations, how he became Daredevil. He pretty much brushed it under the rug when you mentioned it, but then again, you’d done the same about your name.

“You think loudly,” Matt calls out, and you can’t tell if he’s annoyed by it.

“Don’t tell me you can hear that too,” You chide, placing your hands on your hips.

“No, but you tap your fingers when you’re lost in thought.”

Jesus. You take back what you said about him killing it as a doctor, imagine him working as a profiler .

“At least sit down if you’re gonna let your mind wander,” He says, shaking his head.

As soon as you start to move towards the couch, your vision blurs again. Fuck. He’s not kidding about the concussion. You drop down and your world slows its spin as soon as you lean back on the cushions, closing your eyes. You’ve had a concussion twice in your life, one you got as a child when you fell out of a tree and once in your teens after following Dean on a hunt. Bobby had banned you from tagging along well before that, but that didn’t stop your rebellious streak. After you came home, blood running down your face, Bobby put you on lore duty for a month.

Suddenly, you hear something set on the coffee table. You crack open your eyes and see Matt setting down a glass of water and a bottle of ibuprofen.

“Oh… Thank you,” you say with genuine surprise at the gesture.

“Don’t mention it,” He mumbles in response.

You lean forward, gratefully treating yourself to a tablet and a large swallow of water.

“What’s on your mind?” Matt asks, and you note the false nonchalance. He’s lingering beside the couch, attention trained on you. You squint, and your face breaks out into a crooked, vindicated smile. He is just as curious about you as you are about him.

“What’s on yours?” You counter, wondering if he’ll take the bait. Matt hesitates, mouth twitching like he wasn’t sure how to answer. You take a shot in the dark: “...You’re still thinking about my name, aren’t you?”

He looks away, trying to stop from opening the conversation, but he can’t help himself. “Can’t blame me, can you? You lie about it, but it’s the name the FBI knows you by.”

“It is my legal name,” You respond, “By that I mean, the name I have on all my documents.”

“But it’s not your real name,” Matt says, pointer finger gesturing. There’s that lawyer side. This version of him you can imagine cross examining witnesses on the stand.

“If by that you mean my birth name… Then no. It’s not,” you admit slowly. You inhale, pushing away the internal feeling of betrayal. The only people who still referred to you by it, your real name , were Bobby, Dean, and Sam. Everyone else on earth called you Wren Singer, and you’re fine with that.

It’s not like you’re going to tell him your real name. It already feels like exposing a wound just admitting Matt caught you in the lie. It’s too much of a slippery slope- If he knew, if that information left you, it could find its way back to the BAU. You didn’t think Matt would be the type to expose your secret, he did a pretty good job of concealing his. It didn’t matter though, the danger was there anyways. It was nerve wracking, exhausting. The constant vigilance, the censoring your stories, and you all knew it was a facade that could be dismantled as simply as saying your name.

“Why change it?” He asks, leaning forward with his eyebrows knit together.

You weren’t going to do this. You couldn’t dredge it all up. Your past self was buried under tragedy and loss. Nothing was worth risking what you have now for the catharsis of talking about it.

“It’s a… long story, Mr. Murdock,” you finally say, but you add one more thing, “Maybe someday I’ll tell it, but not tonight.”

Matt nods, cocking his head understandingly. You could tell he’s disappointed, but he brushes it off. It’s like he’s not sure what to do with someone in his space, like a pendulum swinging from dismissive indifference to genuine interest in your presence.

“Typically I’m on a first name basis with people by the time they sleep in my bed and steal my clothes.”

It’s a loaded comment, both about the mystery surrounding your name and the fact you hadn’t stopped referring to him as ‘Mr. Murdock’. It was just a habit to refer to people with pleasantries, and by all accounts, he was still a stranger. You can’t help but flush at his tone: slightly teasing, slightly coy, and delivered with the self satisfied rumble of his voice. Slowly, you’re coming to realize Matt might be a bit of a flirt . Even if earlier he used his talents earlier to lead you into a false sense of security, you’re quick to chew your lip to fight back a smile.

It’s not that Matt isn’t handsome— That, unfortunately, is the real problem with this. He’s dangerously handsome, and he knows it too. The dark stubble over his jaw, the way his lips curl up to form his grin, and the sunglasses like deep, black holes absorbing the room around him (Even if they weren’t the usual pair you’d seen in the file photos. The red ones, the principle itself suited him). Not even mentioning his broad shoulders and wide, strong hands… He’s like somebody handcrafted a man to fit into the niche of your type.

Any other time and place, any other way you would’ve met him, you would’ve flirted back. Hell, even initiated it yourself. But now? Trauma bonding from prison escapes and planning how to evade mob bosses didn’t leave room in your mind to entertain the possibility of romance— Just survival. Not to mention, there was an intensity to Matt which made you hesitate. That’s not something you’re sure you could handle.

“You can call me Matt, you know,” He adds after the long period of silence, before stepping back towards the kitchen. “Figure it’d make it easier. Since we’re… helping each other.”

Well… It was just his first name, right? What was the harm?

“Alright… Matt ,” you chime as you test the way his name rolls off your tongue.

“And you are?”

You let out a snort of laughter. “ Real slick .”

The rest of the day was slow, but you couldn’t help but notice the delicate dance you both created around actual, meaningful subjects. Things you weren’t ready to talk about. Plus, it gave you both ample opportunity to plan a path forward, despite your growing weariness. Eventually, after a hearty Thai meal and dancing around personal pasts and feelings, you crashed on his bed.

Your dreams were filled with memories you’d rather forget.

How long had you been sitting at the police station? It all felt unreal. They picked you up at the motel you were staying at, and if your mother hadn’t drilled it into you to not trust them with anything, you would’ve called the cops yourself two days ago when she didn’t come back. It had already reached the news, and all the sounds muddled together with words your pre-teen mind couldn’t wrap your head around… Words you didn’t want to believe.

Serial Killer. It’s now 12 victims. Her body was recovered by the river. Yeah, that’s her daughter. Such a shame, really.

You called out, as you always do in this memory: “ ... Bobby?"

Through the abundance of people, you finally recognized his familiar face. He was, at that point, just a family friend who your mom would drop you with sometimes, typically when she didn’t want you close to the hunt she was on. He still wore a faded trucker hat and ratty vest, something he never lost, though he had less gray in his beard than the present day. Relief flooded through you, and you barrel towards him to be engulfed in a hug, which you’d never done before that point.

“ Woah , hey kid,” He sighed, gingerly wrapping his arms around you. He stood in silence with you for a few moments before daring to talk. “I’m… I’m so sorry.”

You didn’t shy away from crying. You couldn’t. Thick, hot tears spilled from your eyes. No one looked twice at you in the police station when it happened. After all, you were still a child, and your mom was gone.

“ It wasn’t even a monster, Bobby. It wasn’t even a monster ,” You repeated through sobs.

The dream shifted, and Bobby slowly disappeared from your grasp. You blinked and a different scene played out before you. You remembered this too; It hadn’t even been much later that day. You sat at a dingy old table in the police station, with a solemn looking man staring back at you. He’d been more put together than Bobby, but around the same age, and he was sliding an unfolded FBI badge towards you. Jason Gideon, it read. You’d miss the chance to work with him professionally, but he was the one who inspired you to pursue the BAU. It’s for the best you don’t meet him again, he’d remember you. You know it.

“See?” He said, pointing at the credentials, voice soft. “I work for something entirely different. I specialize in finding the type of man who hurt your Mother. Now, I need you to close your eyes. Picture, for me, the last time you saw her…”

He’d walked you through what you now know as a cognitive interview. You’ve conducted a dozen of them yourself now, but the dream begins to slip. All that replays is the final time you left that police station. The slow walk out, clung to Bobby’s arm. The blur of the people, all faded memories at this point, except for the twisted face of the man who walks in at the same time, passing you like a car on the opposite side of the highway.

They arrested him for the murders later that day, but here he was just a “concerned citizen”. He’s in slow motion in this dream, a smile spreading like rancid mold across his face. Your breathing becomes rapid. He won’t leave. The moment won’t move. You can’t escape this. He felt your Mom’s life leave her body and you’ll never forget his grin. He enjoyed that. Then he enjoyed seeing your grief. He took your mother from you and you couldn’t stop it. Your Mom’s voice echoes: Powerless. Powerless. Powerless.

You burst from the dream gasping for air, and your eyes fly open to an unfamiliar room, with an unfamiliar hand touching your shoulder. You shove it off as quick as you can, struggling up in the sheets. It’s near dark, save for the neon of a billboard outside the window, and everything comes rushing back to you, quelling your panic, like turning on the lights in a shadowed basement. Matt. Riot. Fisk.

“ Hey, hey, hey– You’re okay.” Matt’s voice is barely above a whisper. His hand holds out at you, palm forward, like you are a wild animal in need of calming. “ You were having a nightmare.”

“ Matt? ” You’re out of breath and your heartbeat is in your ears. You can only imagine what it sounds like to him. “ Sorry… I’m sorry. ”

You’re not even sure why you’re apologizing, it’s you who's having the nightmare. Maybe it’s for waking him, maybe it’s for nearly punching him as you woke, or maybe it’s for the inconvenience of the horrors you picture when you close your own eyes. You didn’t exactly want to burden anyone else with it.

“What time is it?” You croak at last, sitting up slightly.

“Past three. I should’ve been waking you up periodically to check on your concussion anyways,” He says, sitting on the edge of the bed. He turns his head to you, tilting it slightly. “But the swelling is down, and you seem fine… From what I can tell.”

Matt says the last part like he knows there's so, so much that’s tangled in your soul. You take a few more deep breaths, opting to stare at the wardrobe in the corner instead of his hunched figure.

“...Do you want to talk about it?” The words are slow, and test the waters. When you don’t answer initially, he continues. “I used to get nightmares too. When I was young, not long after my Dad died. They never truly went away. Not… not really,” His voice trails into something distant and he blinks a few times. “All I’m saying is… We see a lot of the same. Violent crimes, the worst of humanity... It leaves an effect.”

You swallow as a delicately small smile pulls at the corners of your mouth. “That’s a long winded way of saying you understand.”

He laughs softly, sitting on the edge of the bed in the dark. It’s a strangely domestic scene and you find yourself longing for more of it in your life… but there’s no way. Homey relationships and deep talks don’t mix with ex-hunter FBI agents who are living lies. But… Maybe he was right about understanding. This was someone who also leads a double life, harbors secrets soaked in blood, and while you were pretty sure he knew nothing about the supernatural, he had lost his father at a young age. Not in a completely dissimilar way to how you lost your mother, either.

Matt is outlined by the glowing colors of the billboard through the cracks in the window. It’s like seeing him in a different light. One that guides you out of the walls you built, just for this moment.

“My Mom was… murdered, when I was a preteen. She was the last in a long string of serial killings in South Dakota by a man named Waylon Hanson. She was number 12. The final victim.” You inhale sharply and pull your knees to your chest. “The dreams are… just reliving bits of it.”

Matt straightens as well, tilting himself back and turning his full attention to you once he realized what was happening.

“They caught him two days later. Two days. If the local police had been just a bit faster, just a bit better at their job- She’d be alive ,” you practically hiss. Your voice is the only sound besides the odd car outside and the hum of the air conditioning. You go quiet again, tone low and laden with emotion. “ That’s why I changed my name. I knew I wanted to go into the FBI then, to prevent that loss from happening to others. Hunt the men who killed. I just… I don’t want to be defined by it. I couldn’t be that little girl anymore.”

When Matt finally talks his voice is soft, gentler than it had been all day. He whispers, “I’m sorry.” In it, you hear the empathy. The recognition. Two hurt children seeing themselves in the other.

You sniffle. “Not your fault. Nobody’s but the man who killed her.”

Matt’s quiet for a moment, then adds, “Why’d you choose Wren Singer?”

“Well… Singer comes from the man who took me in. He was a close friend of my Mom’s… Pretty much raised me, even though I know it scared the hell out of him.” A bleary eyed fondness begins to replace the grief. You smile wistfully. “And Wren… They were my mom’s favorite bird. Used to say, if she had another daughter, she’d name her Wren ‘cause she liked them so much. So when I reinvented myself, went to college to study criminal psychology, joined the FBI… I thought maybe I’d become it… The daughter that could’ve saved her.”

Matt leans over, nudging your shoulder with his. “I’m sure she’d be proud of you.”

The phrase knocks the wind out of your lungs. You swallow back the tears, opting instead to nod. You then think and sputter out, voice weak, “I nodded. Can you tell that? I’m trying to get a handle of what you know and don’t.”

He smiles wryly. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

You look back at Matt and add one more thing. “It’s funny… Guess you became that as well, right? The thing that could’ve saved your Dad… I bet he’d be proud of you too.”

Matt nods slowly, but unlike you, you could tell he didn’t believe it.

You wake up when the diffused sun pours through the windows, last night clouded like a faded dream. Had you really spilled your heart to Matt? What was wrong with you?

Your head still dully aches, but you pull yourself up anyways. Judging by the amount of light it had to be like seven in the morning. Placing your feet squarely on the floor, you stretch, which helps right the shoulder that tanked your beating in the riot. On the edge of the bed, lay your clothes from yesterday (Minus the stained shirt), clean. Matt must’ve washed them last night, and you smile to yourself at the action.

After you dress, the steps you take out of the room are soft and ginger. As you slide the door open, you’re met with the sight of Matt asleep on the couch. He is curled on himself, like a cat that’s tucked all its paws under their body. You half expect him to wake up, wondering if his senses alert him while he’s asleep, but he stays still, chest rising and falling in a mesmerizing, rhythmic pattern. You watch him for a few moments, not long enough to be creepy of course, just long enough to appreciate how non-threatening he seemed here.

You debate waking him, but instead opt for putting back on your shoes and preparing yourself. Today was going to be about finding Jasper Evans. Matt and you had agreed one of the only courses of action would be to give his and your testimony to the Bulletin, to Karen, since there was no way of knowing who in the FBI was compromised. Public outcry could force their hand to move Fisk back into prison, where he belongs.

You’d been sitting at the table, slipping on your boots when Matt suddenly shot up on the couch. His head tilts around wildly, and he stands faster than you can speak.

“What–”

“ Shh ,” he hisses.

You comply, watching him like he was a bomb waiting to explode. It’s dead quiet in the apartment for a little less than five seconds.

“We have to go. Agents are coming up the stairs.”

“ What? ”

Matt springs into action, grabbing his glasses off the table and shoes from the floor. “Move. Move, ” he demands, sprinting for the staircase to the roof.

“Hold on!” You jump from your seat, and quickly think of snagging your bloody shirt from the bin in the bathroom. Last thing you needed was forensic evidence you were here.

“ Hurry up!” Matt holds the door to the roof open as you fly up the stairs, coat flapping behind you, and you stumble into the cool morning light. Your eyes adjust slowly to the sudden shift and Matt closes the door as gingerly as possible before yanking you off to the side. You crouch next to him on the roof.

It doesn’t take super senses to hear the crash inside the apartment of the door being busted open or the shouts of “FBI!” echoing out of the apartment.

Slowly, they dwindle down. You can’t hear anymore, but it’s obvious Matt can. The glasses were hiding his eyes, yet still you could see the way his brows furrowed together and the slight shifts of his head. Your breathing is ragged and your head screams from the sudden jolt of adrenaline. The biting wind keeps you alert as thoughts race through your mind. Why the hell were they here?

Matt’s face suddenly contorts in confusion. He mouths a few things to himself. Then mutters, “They… They just put a BOLO out on me. NYPD is advised that I’m armed and dangerous.”

“ You ?” You whisper in bewilderment, keeping your voice down.

“Did you do this?” He demands, breathing hitching. Anger bubbles to the surface at the mere thought.

“No! Of course not! Why would I?”

“Well, they haven’t said a word about you. Just me . And that’s your pal Nadeem in there.” His voice morphs into a harsh whisper.

“I’m not lying . I thought you could tell that!” You urge, panic slipping through.

Matt shakes his head, lip curling. He gestures between you two. “This- This was a bad idea. You should’ve packed and ran last night. I can find Evans on my own.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

He scoffs bitterly. “Obviously that working with you brings more attention than it’s worth, Agent .”

Matt stands and turns from you, shoulders tight. You remember viscerally comparing him to a mouse trap, and now you’re caught on the bitter end of it. His change of heart claws at you, words cutting deeper than you’d ever expect. Your head’s spinning, being put on the back foot like this. He is too, though. The intrusion downstairs made him feel like a cornered animal, and he’s taking it out on you. You can intellectualize that, but that doesn’t keep your own offense from biting.

“This isn’t my fault , Matt. You can’t blame me for this,” You blurt at him, desperate to defend yourself. “If I wanted to have you arrested I could’ve done it myself yesterday. ”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re not going to be safe with me, and it seems I’m not safe with you either, sweetheart. The only way for you to stay alive now is to leave New York.”

The sudden callousness wafts off him in droves. Your face burns in embarrassment, but before you can criticize him for casting you aside when you’re no longer convenient, he’s diving for the next rooftop over. He throws the ratty green hood over his head to conceal his identity, and quickly becomes a disappearing blur on the skyline.

You clench your fists and angrily throw the bloody shirt you are clutching to the floor. “... Shit! ”

taglist <3: @echo-dreams-of-recs @juskonutoh @groovycass @luvr-bunnyy @vioplay19 @rjodie181 @xoxabs88xox

#daredevil #matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x bau!reader #izxz writes

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raptorladylover6969 · 26 days ago

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I mentioned in my last post that I killed off my oc Eliza, and I’m gonna explain what happened 😋😋

Basically when The Handler died, Eliza was there in like, the colosseum, but didnt make it until the Carnotaurus was called, so she watched The Handler commit Carnotauricide, and in that moment, it wasn’t really grief or pain that she felt seeing someone she was so utterly close with get killed within 2 seconds; the final glance they share before hand wasn’t really a “goodbye” but more of a “see you soon.”

And it’s written as such because during the events of Chaos Theory season 1 and 2, both girlies were separated. Eliza was transferred to Senegal by Soyona days prior to Brooklynn’s assassination. She was enlisted to train the Baryonyx, and was the only survivor, but the attack left her completely helpless, so she ran away from the facility, and got lost in the jungle, and had to survive for months on her own. She pulled an Eric Kirby with how well she was thriving.

Then when Soyona and Brooklynn came along, Eliza found them and was like “omfg TAKE ME OUT OF THIS JUNGLE.” So she left with them, and when they got to Malta, that’s when Eliza and The Handler finally reunited after months apart with no contact. And ofc it’s oh so romantical yippee yuri yuri lesbian lesbian so cute‼️ but in that moment that’s when they also like, they go over how painful it was to be separated from each other, so they made “vows”, saying to one another, “Even in life and death, shant we ever part”, a twist on “Till death do us part”, because in their relationship, they don’t even wanna part in death. Not even the bounds of mortal planes could separate them.

Basically what their promises were to each other was: “If one of us goes out, the other goes with.” Because they have this sort of acceptance that this lifetime won’t accept them, won’t allow them to be together, so if there comes a time when one of them dies, the other will die too, and they can both be together far from this mortal plane.

And what do ya know, The Handler goes bye bye.

So then after The Handler dies, Eliza bids her “goodbye for now” to the unconscious Carno, (she’s talking to The Handler but like, she’s IN the Carno) takes the whistle with her, and leaves with Brook and the gang to BioSyn‼️‼️ (also during this time in s3 Brooklynn and her have been secretly chatting without Soyona or The Handler’s knowledge so Brooklynn is aware that Eliza is under coercion)

And I’m not sure how I’m gonna flesh it out yet until s4, but how she dies basically is to the BioSyn Atrociraptors whom she literally throws herself at, still waiting on s4 so I can fully flesh out her final arc, but just know her death will be to Atrociraptors.

She dies in almost the same way as The Handler; she raises her hand to the raptor, her eyes filled with acceptance for what’s to come, and then in a split second, gets attacked, only difference in their deaths is The Handler’s was swift while Eliza’s was slow.

And I sketched it. TW for heavy gore.

#jurassic world chaos theory #jwct #jurassic world #eliza sánchez #jwct oc #jurassic world oc #raptor lady #the handler jwct #chaos theory #Yin&Yang CT #I lowkey wanna make a oneshot of Eliza’s perspective during The Handler’s death

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tryandbehappy · 13 days ago

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I honestly have a lot of reasons to believe they planned this a long time ago because they started acting really strange around season 3.

The thing is, they completely cut Nick out of the entire season, even though we know they filmed scenes with him. And then, after the season aired, they gave all these weird interviews, saying they “just didn’t have time” to show Nick. Which was complete bullshit because they did have time for Aunt Lydia, for example. She got a whole ass dedicated episode that season!!!

They also said some really bizarre things in interviews back then like how Nick somehow influenced June’s dark arc, and how that was why she was behaving the way she did in S3. And that pissed me off, even back then. It was already showing a very annoying pattern: “We won’t show it on screen, but we’ll explain it to you later in an interview.”

The only actual scene that even hinted at Nick being anything close to a villain, any real foreshadowing was in episode 6 of season 3, when he walks through the soldiers and they salute him. That’s it. That one scene, shot in a very dramatic, revealing way. That’s the only time they tried to build tension around his power and status.

Maybe they were planting seeds. But even if they were, they executed it so poorly.

Because beyond that? All the so-called “foreshadowing” only came from other characters characters who weren’t speaking the truth, but just projecting their own fears, agendas, or insecurities. It was never shown to us directly through Nick’s actions.

And what’s more: they always fed Nick’s haters through interviews. They were weirdly consistent with that, constantly pushing this idea that “he’s not who you think,” “he’s a mystery,” “he helped build Gilead,” and so on.

But again, they did it badly.

Good storytelling means you show, not tell. Especially not in a fucking post-season interview.

And most importantly in their obsession with “keeping the mystery,” they went way too far. They made Nick look so incredibly good on screen that it’s just not believable he was living some kind of double life or wearing a mask all along.

You simply can’t sell that twist with a character who has shown such deep, selfless love who gives freedom instead of control, who never manipulates, who respects boundaries, who risks himself over and over again. That level of emotional maturity doesn’t coexist with the kind of darkness they suddenly want us to believe he had.

So even if the idea of this twist might have had some narrative potential even if I could’ve accepted a properly developed villain arc the execution was not there 🤮

PS: I actually started to feel something was off back in Season 3 but I interpreted it completely differently. I thought the reason they were holding back with Nick was because he was supposed to be the endgame for June, so they didn’t want to taint him. That’s why they didn’t “drag him down” like the others.

But in reality, it turns out they were just setting up this “big twist” all along that he was a piece of sh*t and we just didn’t know it. And their logic? “Well, if we show it during the series, you’ll see it coming, so let’s not show it at all until the final punch.” 🤡

Which is honestly one of the dumbest narrative strategies imaginable. I couldn’t even conceive they’d go down that route. Because it’s just… bad storytelling.

#osblaine #nick june

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earthdance · 16 days ago

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method acting - fox mulder

mulder is back after you've come to terms with his death.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

note: i'm not new to fanfic but i am new to x-files fanfic! i hope this isn't too terrible! this is inspired by the first two episodes of s3 because how could scully just accept that he was back that quickly. like he just showed up and she was like "ok" like WHAAAAT. anyways i just kind of reimagined that plotline because it seemed so insane to me.

content tags: SPOILERS for epsisodes 3x1 "the blessing way" and 3x2 "paperclip" , canon compliant but also canon divergent, reader insert, use of y/n and y/l/n (i think it's only y/l/n actually), angst, fluff, mentions of death and mourning, reader and mulder have shared dreams, reader is sad, mulder is sad, everyone is sad but it's okay cause there's a happy ending, this wasn't proofread.

word count: 1,394

cross-posted on ao3 if you prefer to read there!

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

i put the knife in slowly

through the ribcage to your heart

i don't know how we got here

but it's tearing me apart

you don't seem too surprised

i guess that it's become a chore

every tuesday on the hour

you don't feel it anymore

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

you couldn’t handle it. so much was going on and you couldn’t handle any of it.

you try desperately to recall your lessons at the academy, about compartmentalizing and shoving unwanted thoughts or feelings into the darkest filing cabinets of your mind.

but right now, all of those neatly closed and sealed drawers were flying open at breakneck speed, undoing years of hard work and meditation to keep yourself stable and able to do your job.

he was here, in front of you. looking at you with his leafy green eyes with a crazed look as if he had just come back from mars. standing in the archway where the threshold meets the living room of his apartment, soft lamp light beaming off of his face. you’re in your pajamas, work clothes strewn over his floor, throw blanket and a pillow from his bed crumpled on the couch.. you had come here to sleep, as you’ve been doing since he’d been gone.

it had been 2 months. you had weeped, screamed, sat in sad silence, broken things around your apartment, all to try to close the gaping wound his absence had torn in you.

it had gotten somewhat easier. you were just on the precipice of acceptance. just on the precipice of finding some sort of strange peace in the storm that you were caught in. your body was tired, and it was begging you to let go of the pain. and you were about to.

but he was here.

“mulder?”

your voice was hollow like a bone. at this quiet utterance at his name, he steps forward, as if approaching a frail deer on the side of the road. prepared for it to dart at any second. he reaches a hand out, too fast.

you flinch hard. he jerks his hand back to his side.

“wh-” you start, willing yourself to make sense of the apparition in front of you.

you were hallucinating. you had to be. fox mulder was dead. you saw the smoke. the remnants. you saw evidence.

“who are you? what kind of sick joke is this?” you ask, gasping for breath.

“y/l/n…” he says. sad, regretful.

at his voice, something inside you crumbles, and you crash.

“don’t! what the hell is going on? what is this? why- why is this happening? why now?”

“ i couldn’t risk contacting you. not until they were sure i was dead. not until they had absolutely no doubts.”

“i- i don’t-”

“i want so badly to explain it all to you. what happened to me. but i want to give you time to process-.”

“process!?” you shriek, “i’ve already processed! i processed for 2 months! and now you want me to process more? to believe you’re alive? how do i even know it’s you, mulder? we’ve encountered people that can change shape, that mimic. they’ve fooled me before, i won’t let it happen again-” you’re hand twitches subtly toward your gun, lying on the coffee table.

he straightens at this. “y/l/n! y/l/n…”

you freeze, ready to grab the pistol if he makes any sudden movements.

“just.. just listen. ask me something, i’ll prove that it’s me. ask me something only i would know.”

your eyes narrow at him. trying to search for any sign that he’s going to switch up on you.

you try to calm your mind, to think of a sacred situation that you and mulder shared. something embedded deep in you. that you never told anyone about.

“i- um…” you run a hand over your face, still breathing shakily.

“what did i confess to you at the hotel in montana?”

his eyes glaze over in sadness. prepared to recite the story you told him.

“you joined me on the x-files because when you were 13, you saw an apparition of your grandfather three days after he died. he told you someone was waiting for you. and you told me even though you thought it was just a dream, you’re still searching. searching for whoever’s waiting for you. wherever they are.”

you exhale for the first time in what feels like hours. tears prick at your waterline as you struggle to breathe.

he’s there, then. arms encircling you, hand on the back of your head to pull you into his chest. and you wonder, how you ever could’ve doubted that it was him. he has never been more him than in this moment. his smell, his touch, his voice as he whispers in your hair.

it’s okay, i’m here now. i’m not leaving again.

still embraced, he leads you to his couch. sits down gently so you can lean into him more.

he rubs your back, sweeping those beautiful hands up and down your spine. in spite of yourself, you shudder at the feeling.

“mulder i don’t-”

“i know-”

“no, you don’t.”

he lifts your head from his chest and holds your face in his hands, wiping free falling tears away.

“you really don’t know.”

he bites his lip, searching for something to say, but you don’t want to hear anything from him right now. you need him to know. to understand.

“fox,”

he sucks in a breath at the use of his name.

“i have gone through countless deaths in my life. friends, family, pets. death follows me everywhere i go. i know the routine. i know how to grieve and come out the other side. i know how to be unfazed by it.”

you stop, to make sure he’s still following. he nods. strokes your hair.

“i-” you stop again, to try and gather yourself the best you can with his thumbs on your cheeks.

you look in his eyes now. you need him to know

“i’ve never felt so much pain. your absence… it was- it was so suffocating. so dark. no one could tell me anything. i didn’t have any closure. it was like i was walking in a tunnel, and i kept expecting to see the light. the end of it. but it never came. until last week. i was- i was getting better, mulder. i was starting to feel okay. i was starting to accept, however painful it still was. i- and then you're here? you're just here all of a sudden? and now you being here, is almost even more painful then before because it doesn’t feel real. my brain can’t make sense of it. deep down i know it’s you. but it still feels fake. i’ve spent two months coming to terms with your death. it’s like a dream.”

you drop your head into his chest once more. he drags a shaking hand down to your arm and pinches you softly for good measure. a very mulder thing to do.

you breathe a laugh out of your nose.

“see? not a dream” he says gently, lifting your face back up to meet his eyes once more.

you give him a sad smile to show him you’re trying to be present with him.

his fingers tuck your hair behind your ears. he takes a deep breath.

“i’m not going to try and pretend that i know what you went through. thank you for telling me.”

he bites his lip and contemplates his next sentence.

“i went somewhere. i didn’t necessarily die but i was close”

his hand holds your wrist, soothes your pulse.

“in the place i went, i saw people. people i knew that had died. but the last person… the last person was you. i wasn’t worried because i could tell you weren’t like the others. you weren't planted in this afterlife, you weren’t dead. you were just there to tell me something.”

you breathe shallowly.

“what did i tell you?”

“that you were waiting for me.”

you purse your lips and close your eyes, overwhelmed.

“i know”

mulder looks at you, puzzled.

“you know?”

you nod, and open your eyes.

“i had a dream. my grandpa was there. he told me that i had already found the person that was waiting for me. and then i saw you. and i told you what you just said. i didn’t think it was real. i thought it was just another dream. i- i didn’t know it was your dream too.”

he smiles and presses his forehead to yours.

“were we both waiting on each other?”

a kiss is your answer.

#<xfiles>#txf #the x files #fox mulder #fox mulder x reader #fox mulder fanfiction #fox mulder x you #agent fox mulder #Spotify

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