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hazelvrr · 3 months

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Revenge | part 1

Pairing: Hazel callahan x fem reader

Summary: You and Hazel are friends with benefits, hanging out in her yard and smoking a joint at night when you both hear a strange noise coming from upstairs..

Contains: smoking, flirting, extremely mild smut- making out, tit grabbing, ass grabbing, straddling

Word count: 1.7k

Start notes: not sure if I'm gonna do another part to this, depends on whether or not anybody actually reads it

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"What would you do to survive if we woke up tomorrow in a zombie apocalypse?" Hazel enquires, looking down at you, your head resting on her lap as shes gently twirling your hair around her long calloused fingers, her thick silver rings getting tangled in your hair, her other hand holding a joint as she brings it to her lips and breathes it in and is slightly coughing as she brings it down, offering it to you, exhaling the smoke facing upwards and to the right so that she doesn't blow it into your face, allowing you to see her sharp jawline flexing.

You accept reaching your hand up, your fingers lightly brushing against hers as you take it from her and sit up, turning your body back around to face her, bringing your knees up to sit comfortably on the cold grass.

You flick the Ash into the air, the wind blowing it away as you look across at hazel, her piercing azure gaze focused on you, patiently waiting in anticipation of your answer, as if she's been thinking about this scenario for her entire life, just waiting for the day that it was going to happen.

"Um idk I haven't really thought much about it, I guess I'd use my basement as a shelter and keep a gun down there just in case?" You reply dubiously, "what about you, what would you do?" As you inhale, choking on the smoke and immediately passing it back to hazel as she softly rubs your back.

"Oh, well personally i'd put on a diving suit, so they can't bite me obviously, steal a truck and drive to a hardware store, raid it for any sharp objects or weapons I could find and the supplies to make a bomb, then drive to a Costco and park right outside, steal a bunch of food and drink in bulk, enough to get me through at least 6 months, load it up into the truck and drive down to the docs. Then I'd sit in the car, make a bomb, and then load all the supplies I stole into a boat. Then I'd set the bomb in the truck on the docs for 15 minutes and head out to sea, its a well known fact that zombies can't swim" She says, casually whilst twisting the joint round inbetween her fingers, studying the end as its slowly burning.

You stare at her for a moment, taken aback by her alarmingly detailed plan, "Jeez haze, either you've thought about this a lot, or that joint has kicked in way quicker than I thought it would," you reply, reaching your hand out, gesturing to take another hit.

"You never know, always gotta be prepared," She shrugs and giggles, looking over at you intently, fidgeting with her rings, rotating them round her fingers.

"Soo.. in this genius plan of yours, is there enough room for another?" You ask boldly, smirking at her, scooting ever so slightly closer to her.

"Only for you," She answers confidently, now making eye contact with you with a shit eating grin on her face.

"Oh yeah?" You reply, biting down on your lip, now staring directly at hers. She begins to move closer to you, leaning over your body as you lean back on your elbows until she's practically straddling you. As she's about to kiss you, you both hear a noise coming from the top floor of her house, the lamp still on, causing hazel to move back and get on her feet. You follow behind, dropping the joint when you get to the patio, putting it out by stomping on it with your converse and pressing it into the ground.

You follow slowly behind her as she angrily storms into her house at a quick pace, slamming the doors open as they nearly swing back and hit you in the face. You watch as she makes her way to the bottom of the stairs and you both sit on the stairs, intensely listening to hear who those outrageously over the top moans are coming from in her moms bedroom, it goes silent for a second and then you hear, "Jeff hung-y, can I have a snack mrs callahan?"

You both look at each other in disgust, immediately realising who was in there. Hazel raises her eyebrows and sighs, "I can not believe her right now. She swore to me. She promised it was over between them. She ended it with him after the game. For me," She exclaims angrily, tears welling up in her eyes, "she's a fucking liar!"

You look over at her and gently embrace her as she throws her face into your chest, sobbing as you play with her hair and rest your face on her head. You both stay like that for a moment, sitting on the stairs together as you try to comfort her, when she slowly lifts her head up to look at you.

"I can't believe her, I don't know what to do," She mumbles, tears dripping down her face.

You look down at her, hand cupping her face as you wipe her tears with your thumb and lean down into her ear and whisper, I have an idea, if you want to get her back, but your really going to have to trust me."

Her eyes widen, and you can see the colour come back to her cheeks as she leans back into your ear, "always," She whispers back to you. Quickly, you grab her hand and drag her into the kitchen and softly push her against the fridge, making a handful of ice dispense from the ice machine as you're holding her shoulders, kissing her passionately.

"Woah, what are y-" She tries to ask breathlessly, but you interrupt her with another kiss.

"Remember what I said?" You say to her in a low voice, making sure only she could hear, "you said you trust me."

She stares into your eyes for a moment, does a small nod and grabs your waist, pushing you back into the kitchen island, knocking over a bag of chips left open presumably by Jeff when he arrived earlier.

You both stop to look down at the chips on the floor and smile as hazel slides her arm across the counter, wiping all the cereal bars and candy packets onto the floor, making a loud noise. She lifts you up onto the counter so that your now sitting on the island, kissing you deeply. You caress her shaggy locs with your hands feeling her soft ends on your fingertips. She begins to explore your body with her hands, running them down from your waist to your hips and gliding them up your skirt, gripping your thigh so tightly it causes you to let out a soft whimper into her mouth, only making her move her hand further up.

You pull apart just for a moment and exchange a look of understanding before scooting back and laying down on the countertop, supporting yourself with your elbows as hazel climbs on top of you straddling your hips.

You begin making out again, even more aggressively than before, and your hand reaches up her shirt, pawing at her tit over her sports bra. She moans, "just go under it for fucks sake" raising her eyebrows at you then continuing to work on your face, your lips getting swollen and your cheeks beginning to redden.

You do as she says, sliding your hand under the elastic of her sports bra and grabbing her tit, realising how big they are, you pull your lips away, "haze how the hell have you been hiding these under your oversized button ups, if I had your tits I'd take every chance I got to show them off."

She blushes, and just as she's about to reply, you hear laughing and footsteps, so she leans in again and kisses you violently, slightly flipping up your skirt with her wrist as she circles it with her thumb.

You take her nipple between your fingers and rub it, grazing your thumb over it, leading to hazel letting out a whine just as Jeff skids into the kitchen, gasping and Mrs callahan struts in behind him carrying a glass of wine, only to drop it at the sight of you and hazel sprawled out on her kitchen counter.

"What in the actual hell is going on here, Hazel?" Mrs callahan yells as Hazel pulls away, looks over at her mom, shrugs her shoulders, and continues to kiss you.

Dammit that was hot. Definitely going to have to add that to the hazel spank bank that you definitely were not mentally collecting.

You take that as a sign to continue and you take it even further by running your hand down hazels back and grabbing her ass, gently slapping it and kiss down to her neck, beginning to make a mark just below that beautiful jawline of hers.

You sneak a peak over at the door, and Jeff had collected the snacks from the floor and went back up the stairs carrying them all in his elbows. Mrs callahan was still standing there in pure shock for a good 30 seconds, until she went over to the cupboard, grabbed a bottle of wine, went to pour a glass but then just taken the bottle and went away.

You pull away from hazels neck, "Your mom," you sigh, completely out of breath, "she's gone."

"I know." Hazel grinned as she quickly moved her hand up your shirt and unhooked your bra with one hand.

Again. Another thing you were definitely not adding to the hazel spank bank that definitely did not exist.

You carry on working at her neck like it was your last goddamn meal until you have to take a break and breathe for a moment, hand still firmly placed on her ass.

"You look so pretty like this," hazel mumbled under her breath, watching you lean your head back, panting.

"Hm?" You ask, pretending not to hear her, "what was that callahan?"

"Don't push it," She replies before cupping your face with her hands, "Are you really going to make me shut you up myself?"

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@iloverubycruzz on wattpad

@hazelcallahansgirlfriend on a03

@sltfr on tiktok

#hazel callahan #hazel bottoms #hazel callahan smut #bottoms 2023 #hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan brainrot

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guillotinna · 1 year

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I keep seeing these Gen z is task force 141 and I wanna join

Anytime you use a computer, you do that stupid movie hacker trope of exaggerated typing and say "I'm in"

Saying "POV" in front of sentences

In the group chat saying "1 like and I'll kms", liking your own message and then saying "damn guess I gotta"

I see a lot of these posts were Gaz and Soap would understand y/n....bffr, no those geezers would not

No one knows what the gen z kid is saying they just know it's probably not good

"You're telling me a shrimp fried this rice?"

You have a small photo you keep tucked in your chest pocket and after enough times seeing you looking lovingly at it, one of the guys asks who it is. Is it a s/o from back home? 😏😏

You say no and pull out a photo card of your fave singer and they're like ??? Really

One time during a particularly physical scuffle with the enemy, you get thrown to the ground and huff out "one hop this time" only to promptly tackle tf outta your assailant while saying "take it back now yall"

Reads everyone's zodiac charts except ghost bc he won't tell his birthday let alone the time he was born so you just make one up

Price calls a 6 am meeting to which you say "double it and give to the next person"

*Alexa, play teenagers by MCR*

If you had time describe the base, you'd say it smells like ball sweat, blood and war crimes which everyone took offense to for different reasons

Would absolutely get soaps doodles tattooed

Actually speaking of which, imagine getting caught giving yourself stick and pokes with a pen and being banned from using pens period

You'd be in a meeting with a #2 pencil

Ofc a gen z member would be absolutely feral which very little regard for their own safety much to the dismay of the others

Quoting "Oh these aren't homemade, they were made in a factory....a bomb factory......they're bombs." All the time around soap even though he has no idea what you're talking about

You don't spent too much alone time with ghost bc he likes quiet and you can't be alone with your thoughts which is why you lean more towards spending time with soap or gaz

I just like puns so I'm gonna add this but gen z love borgs (a customized gallon jug of alcohol that is usually given a name) and yours is appropriately named taskforce 1-borg-1

this is mainly for my americans but i know pretty much the whole world got beef with engl*nd: before you met Soap, you thought the entire 141 was en*lish so when you finally did meet him, you said "oh thank god" with a sigh

americans 🤝 scotts

making fun of english "people"

"Pull up in the monster, automobile gangsta With a bad bitch that came fr-" "....sergeant, comms off please"

you show Ghost WAP and he has to take a walk

*price yelling at gaz and soap*: KYLE GARRICK AND JOHN MACTAVISH GET IN HERE- Y/n: oop not the government name

Another for my US baddies: if your'e ever arguing with any of the guys, the nail in the coffin would be "and it's called soccer"

"one more like and i'll-" "enough!"

you call Price "ms. girl" and he could not be more confused

someone asks "do you serve?" and u reply "yah, serve cunt"

when asked why you decided to join the military you said something like: "well i didnt think i'd live past 18 so when I did, i ended up here".....crickets from the rest of the team

"good thing we only have showers on base because i would have already taken a toaster bath by now"

ask Gaz "no bitches?🤨" one more time see what happens

price: the enemies have taken civvies hostage and blocked off all exits and entrances to the town-" y/n: "omg tea"

Also calling price "capt. Save-a-hoe"....I wanna be saaaavvveddd ;)

If you took a shot every time you said "rest in peace to all the soldiers that died in the service, I dive in her cervix", you'd be dead lmao

When asked if they like the military they'd say "it was either this or the psych ward so yah, I'll take it"

Quoting MPGIS constantly and no one even sort of knows what that is ("Crack. Is that what you smoke? You smoke crack?")

Some detainee being interrogated is spilling some nonsense, so you hit them with "oh brother this guy stinks!" And then with the butt of your gun

"Little bad trini bitch but she mixed with China, real thick vagina, smuggle bricks to-" "SARGENT ENOUGH"

Falling asleep on team mates (minus ghost's) shoulders mostly because the most peace they get is when you're unconscious

*when y/n hears any slightly suggestive/dirty phrase*: what are we talking about 😏 (iykyk)

Same energy as: " born next to a nuclear power plant, has an IQ of 2 and was hit in the head with several Rocks as a child"

Vine quotes out the wazoo, it's just awful for the rest of the team lmao

Replying to everything with "on god?"

soap: "what are you 6?" y/n: "yah 6 inches deep in your mom".....you did not walk away from that unscathed to say the least...worth it tho

#cod mw22 #call of duty #cod x reader

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fillinforlater · 4 months

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It’s that time of the year again. What are some of your favorite smuts released in 2023?

Monday of Appreciation: Part 104

Hello everyone, Smite here!

2023 is coming to a close and it's been quite the year, a mixture of "this is a bridge year for greater things to come" and "WE LIVIN' NOW MF!" What is a bit different this year is that the highs weren't as high and the lows weren't as low compared to previous years---maybe that is just me getting older, maybe it's hindsight. Either way, I'm good and this year was good.

But some things are more than just good. I'm of course talking about these writers and their stories that I have featured today. All of them deserve special mention, but I want to focus on two of them specifically.

In a year of great, fantastic and already legendary fics, these two stand out.

Without further ado, let's dive into the final MoA of this year:

-1-

@fanfiction4sooya: Can't Save You Now ft. Chaewon, Kazuha, Sakura

I- I- I just read the damn tags and new I one day had to give this a shot. ff4sooya has crazy ideas, futa galore, different dynamics and kinks, which is SO MY THING. This has Mommy and Daddy involved in an absurd (and absurdly hot) threesome that I couldn't take my eyes off.

Now I definitely need to read more and you should too because I bet there are a bunch of Masterpieces in that long Masterlist!

-2-

@iznsfw: Drunken ft. Olivia Hye

Is it really a Monday of Appreciation post without IZ?

Seriously, what this genius is able to cook up in a commission or in the currently ongoing (HYPE) IZ DAYS OF CHRISTMAS is absolutely incredible. We have long stories with in depth characters and love drama that ends not only smuttily but sweetly. Who the fuck needs books, when you can just binge IZ?

With "Drunken", they have once again hit it out of the FUCKIING park. There is never enough Daddy kink fics, yes, but mine seem like nonsensical cringe porn compared to this beauty of a piece. I love how it plays with my heart, no I'm not crying---okay, now that is hot.

Let me change that: there is three very fucking special stories today!

(I think this might even be better than Levi's Hyeju, wtf)

-3-

@cataboliac: Enkindle ft. Wendy

Firstly: I LOVE YOU CATA, BIG QT!

Secondly: "Enkindle" feels a bit like coming home, like a day in Paradise, like the one person that shines so bright in your life that you don't want it to go. And you know, that is the great thing: this might be Cata's final fic, the farewell, but not only is his life gonna be great and he'll be super happy - we also get to read this again and again, and I'm sure I will one day.

Thank you, Cata, for hanging around!

Thirdly: I'M GONNA KISS YOU, CATA!

-4-

@writerpeach: Delectation ft. Wonyoung, Yujin

1.000 Notes, and it's still not enough for what is my pick for fic of the year (FOTY? FOOTY? There is a scene like that, yep). IZ*ONE truly never dies, but it is IVE and these absolute super stars, bomb shells with flawless faces and different, yet irresistible bodies that have us in a frenzy.

Talking about frenzy, all those 30,699 words are a frenzy. I thought Peach would set it up with a long and painful tease that has us edging the entire time BUT NOPE this has so much fucking smut, so many lines of neediness and horniness, it is impossible to finish in one try or two tries or... I dunno, seven-hundred tries?

It's detailed, it's straight forward, it's sex from every fucking angle, I can never get tired of this. I will go so far and say this is Peach's magnum opus, the GOAT fic by the GOAT writer. At least for that day, I can say this without a doubt.

Peach, you are crazy and thank you for that <3

#PeachPavedTheWay #AnnyeongzForDaddy

#kpop smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #ive smut #izone smut #male reader insert #male reader #idol x idol smut #red velvet smut #wendy smut #loona smut #loosemble smut #olivia hye smut #hyeju smut #wonyoung smut #chaewon smut #yujin smut #sakura smut #le sserafim kazuha smut

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nevertheless-moving · 2 months

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STORMLIGHT ARCHIVE AU MASTERLIST

List will be updated with links if/when AUs develop For my Star Wars AU Masterlist: Please See Here As always, people are more than welcome to play with any of these ideas! just please link back to me so I can see! Seriously if you want to write stuff in any form with ideas from any of these aus I will love you forever! 1 to 20: Words of Radiance AUS 21 to 30: Non Words of Radiance AUs (note: these might also be WOR AUs) 31 to 40: Post Winds and Truth Wild Speculation (that may or may not also be a WOR AU)

1 to 20 Words of Radiance AUS

[EDIT, Previous #1 Now #28]

2. High oath Hesina willshaper aus. This is actually many many AUs because the "Mom??" Reveal is great in all contexts. Concept, WOK Era Outline

3. Renarin asks Kaladin for help with radiant stuff during WOR. Secret training. Everyone thinks they're fucking. Chapter 1 and Outline/Meta

4. Elhokar drunk orders kaladin to bedchambers, begs for help keeping away nighmare creatures. Kaladin nearly kills him before scary spren realization, then goes into serious radiant mode when syl gets ambiguously concerned. Everyone thinks they're fucking.[Note: I might be too easily entertained by this trope]. Kaladin is deeply pained by this but also has people saving thing and really doesnt want to reveal the radiant thing to the whole camp. Earlier third oath. Eventual fucking optional, see above au, except with a bit more pity than vibeing for option a.

5. Crack. AUs 3, 4, and 9 at same time so people just think Kaladin is the Kholin Rhysadium. Bridge 4 offers government overthrow if he's being pressured. kaladin assures them that's not it. Now people keep trying to high five him. Kaladin with head in hands while Moash snarks over his shoulder "you know when i said fuck the lighteyed i didn't -" Kaladin definitely asexual in this one.

6. Hessenia and lirin come to shattered planes, shocked/thrilled/emotional to find kaladin. Bridge 4 desperately trying to get approval of [bugs bunny meme our] parents. Lirin reluctantly adopting renarin who wants to learn about healing now for some reason. Blackthorn surgeon mutual loathing/ jealousy son swap hilarity. Lirin is having a time.

7. Kaladin wasn’t on guard duty the night of szeth arrival. Still warned by syl about assassin, but has to dead sprint while glowing to get across camp fast enough, soft reveal to anyone outside. Only barely figures out wall running on the way over to crash in window just in time. Szeth freaks out and runs away after very short, mildly anticlimatic interaction. And now Kaladin has to deal with Everyone.

8. Kaladin further along in powers during initial szeth fight. Battle of champions degrading to slap fight when they run out of stormlight and get stuck on the plains. Concept/ Ask, Funny Severed Leg

9. Manufactured rumors about adolin/ kaladin. Effective political mudslinging for most of WOR. Shallan plays up things about her relationship with Jasnah to be a more appealing beard. [Previous #9 Is Now #33]

10. Kaladin has a meltdown in prison, breaks out of his cell. Just a little bit more stormlight...Shouts of alarm. Aaah glowing Assassin in white! Kaladin panics more. Adolin handles the situation like a champ. Kaladin maybe briefly kidnaps him.

11. Nale goes after kaladin instead of lift. Ohhh so many thoughts for parallels.

12. Syl immediately dive bombs pattern when kaladin and shallan meet. Really early radiant reveal but just to each other. Kaladin does not trust her but doesn't want to reveal his own status so just watches her super intensely...since she's also constantly watching him too, yes, this gets misinterpreted. See au 3 through 5 but more discreet. Veil is the one draggng him from the barracks for late night 'training sessions' [these are actually training sessions but veil flirts outrageously with kaladin when anyones in earshot. So.] that distracts things a bit.

13. Adolin, suspicious after the Assassin in White fight, was secretly following kaladin at night. Sees him step off a ledge into a chasm (I just reread the section and was like?! You glanced over your shoulder once?!). Adolin spends the whole night stewing in regret, anger, grief, guilt (I was there. I could have yelled. Should have done something. I didn't realize...I didn't know. I didn't know anything). Next morning Kaladin is on guard duty and adolin flips his shit, suddenly remembering that the whole reason he was suspicious of this guy was because he inexplicably survived a several hundred foot drop.

14. Kaladin barely manages to hold it together just long enough to out himself as radiant right after prison. Part One, Part two

15. Kaladin does NOT hold it together after getting arrested.

16. Kaladin swears third oath early. Next few weeks involve a lot of hiding glowing bridgeman squire antics and gaslighting people about kaladin's intermittently light eyes.

17. In the initial confrontation with Szeth, Kaladin pushes a bit harder about the radiants being back, Szeth spirals a bit more, crashing realization that he isn't truthless...

17a. Earlier radiant reveal: szeth surrenders the honor blade and then immediately collapses into the ground. Kaladin drags him and the blade upstairs. Has to reveal himself now because 1) kaladin what the fuck how and 2) the assassin is mumbling about radiants. 17b ANGST: szeth surrenders the honor blade and immediately kills himself with kaladin's weapons. Kaladin takes honorblade, collapses on way back because it's draining his stormlight, maybe messing with sylbond. When he wakes up hes injured, surrounded by lighteyes and a handful of his men...handles it badly because Very Specific Shardblade Winning Trauma. Crazy two nickles moment. Downside: cries a lot in front of people he'd rather not have cried in front of. Upside: dalinar believes him about amaram now. Public windrunner powers, but obscured Radiant reveal because glowing assassin sword is very clearly granting magic powers. Weird interactions of honorblade bond and nahel bond. Lot of interesting fallout from Dalinar having his very own Mystical Assassin now.

18. Kaladin sends Syl to spy on the 'horneater princess', one sided radiant discovery. When she sends pattern to spy on bridgeboy, he somehow notices. Shallan does not handle it well.

19. Something something people put together all the impossible stuff Kaladin's done with all the impossible stuff the Blackthorn did as a youth, combined with one of bridge four drunkenly talking about their best theories for the Captains 'mysterious backstory,' combined with Dalinar literally calling Kaladin son and seemingly overnight the warcamps are convinced that Kaladin is Dalinar's bastard child.

20. (COLLABORATIVE with @gnecrognomicon) Instead of being thrown in prison, Elhokar orders Kaladin be strung up for the Stormfather's judgement. Part One, Part Two

21 to 30 Non Words of Radiance AUs

22. Way of kings au where the beggars of alethkar are rounded up for the war effort. Jezrian, of course, ends up on bridge four.

23. Kaladin time travel au to way of kings only the transition is a bit like a spren going through the cognitive to material realm transfer. Not all there. Heartwarming bridge four bonding slightly to the left - sure the mans crazy but he just looks so...disappointed when we dont help with the injured, and he shares his food like an idiot. How does someone seven foot tall and stronger than a chull make axehound pup eyes. We're not following him though. He's not our lead - holy heralds balls is he glowing?? Bit more of a symbol than a friend, but a symbol that you take turns holding at night because he has such bad nightmares and also hes clingy.

24. COLLABORATIVE / stone soup with @sweetteaanddragons : adolin and kaladin time travel to way of kings. Kaldin brooding about how to escape AND save all his men AND the world until adolin barges in and buys everyone.

'Thank the almighty,' Kaladin thought with almost painful relief, watching Adolin argue haughtily with a growing swarm of Thadeus's lighteyes. 'I never thought I'd actually appreciate having a rich friend.' He would, of course, rather die than admit this. "I had it handled," he growled, when the two finally managed to speak inconspicuously, each weaving amongst a thousand confused former bridgeman, speaking quietly with several, until they were able to meet in the middle with reasonable subtlety, all things considered. "That's great, Kal," Adolin said cheerfully, clearly not buying a word. "Say, how would you feel about doing some, you know..." He waved a hand, earning a raised eyebrow from Kaladin. "Glowy stuff for my Father," his voice dropped from a subtle hush to a slightly conspicuous whisper. "So he doesn't disinherit me. I did not have permission for this." Both pairs of eyes flicked to the side, the Blackthorn's towering figure approaching like a Stormwall. "Uh. Sooner rather than later perhaps."

26. Oathbringer/row au. Adolin doesn’t kill sadeus. Mostly just excuse to dunk on Sadeus for trading one (1) shardblade for mythical warrior who can make his own shardblade. oh look more of your former slaves are glowing now. and THEY make shardblades too!

27. Elhokar and Kaladin time travel from Elhokar's death in oathbringer to way of kings. Part one, Part Two

27B. Elhokar solo time travels back from Oathbringer death to Way of Kings

28. Moash tells kaladin about beef with elokhar early. This derails the entire plot of the series. [EDIT, This au was previously #1, before I abruptly realized it was WOK, Not WOR]

31 to 40 Post Winds and Truth Wild Speculation

31. Szeth kaladin pity fuck time travel au words of radiance. Bridge four roasts the shit out of kaladin. Kaladin is doing everything in his power to avoid implying "knowledge of future" which makes the timeline of their relationship deeply confusing.

32. Szeth kaladin time travel au post book 5, they get their memories back in the high storm right before canon first meeting. Szeth sort of stumbles in, halfheartedly attempting a confused assassination.

33. [EDIT: Previously AU Number 9] Kaladin time travel back to wor, book 5 gone wrong. Deeply terrifying from outsider pov. Captain of the Kholin guard, bridgefour leader, is suddenly Full fourth oath windrunner talking about how humans are the voidbringers, they actually need to support the parshendi in bringing one last controlled desolation, and then kill the heralds and also god. Don't worry not our god. Different god. Our god is already dead. If someone else travels back with him then it swings around to a lil bit funny.

34. Post winds and truth, pre sunlit man, crossover with the twilight of mistborn era 2 (i think the cosmere timeline could make sense but if not, oh well). Kaladin gets a boon from his god(s). Requests to learn more about mental health. Has to go to another planet to do so, because mental health research on Roshar sucks. Scadrial's god seems (relatively) friendly and their planet has developed antidepressants AND wellness seminars. Shenanigans with Very Old Wax and the gang.

35. Jasnah, Dalinar, and Renarin (surviving Kholin Radiants) travel from End of World to right after Gavilar's death. Crack. Outline

All of the above (plus other fandoms if you keep scrolling back) will be tagged with 'my au' The above, plus my canon stormlight and other cosmere meta, technically canon compliant fanfic drabbles, or other things that i've written but don't fit in an au will be tagged 'nevertheless cosmere'

#Stormlight archive #My au #Kaladin stormblessed #Stormlight fanfic #words of radiance #Nevertheless writing #stormlight au #way of kings #oathbringer #rhythm of war #cosmere #nevertheless cosmere

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atarathegreat · 17 days

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Orange Cat Behavior Headcanons

ft: Kirishima, Sero, Todoroki, Hawks, Mirio, Shinso

The floor is lava with Kirishima was eventful, at least. The both of you bouncing around the sitting quarters in the dorm as the other students walked around as if it wasn't happening, and Aizawa tried not to worry about it. If you fell and busted your face open then he would be responsible. You and Kirishima were careful enough that you kept each other from dive bombing the floor.

"Kiri! How long can we touch the floor?" You dove from the tv table to the coffee table. You wanted to move around more than the couches and two tables, and the kitchen wasn't that far. "Like, six seconds." Kirishima stared at you, then glanced at the dining table where you were looking. "Don't tell me..."

"I am." You stood on the back of the couch, "You count down the seconds for me, if I don't make it... we had a good run."

You made it halfway across the floor when he reached 1. You had burned up in the lava. "No!" You fell to your knees, then your back, pretending to be dead. Kirishima sacrificed himself, holding your limp body as he dramatically cried out.

The last thing Sero expected was to find you on the roof of the dorm with what appeared to be around 70 feet of rope.

"What are you doing?" He stared from you to the edge of the roof, "And what's that?" You looked down, "Oh, this is my new shirt. Like it?"

"I meant the rope."

"Oh."

You grabbed the rope and tied it to the nearest, what was definitely not sturdy enough, anchor, "I'm going to see how long it takes me to scale the building with this rope. And you better not tell Aizawa what I'm doing. He already stopped me last week."

"Ten four."

It wasn't his fault, but Todoroki had a bad habit of reminding you of a really, really dumb cat. He always looked confused or shocked or...well there surely wasn't thoughts behind his eyes. Today was no different. He just stared at everything, hardly said two words to anyone.

So, you hid in his dark room to scare him when he got back to the dorms. It wasn't the best idea, considering he could've turned you into a real nice fish fillet. But instead, it worked in your favor. You crawled out from under his bed like some bullshit from the Grudge and he ran screaming.

And it's only funny if you followed him down the dark halls and into the darker big open rooms. Which you did.

With it being his day off, and you hadn't yet gotten up to make breakfast, Keigo was busy kissing your face. Slow, almost bored kisses.

"Can I go make breakfast yet?" You muttered, your stomach grumbling. You had woken up hours ago and was kept in the bed by soft feathers and promises of "Soon enough, dove."

But that's not who Keigo was. No, he wanted your attention and was going to keep you in the bed. Another slow and firm kiss was pressed to your nose before he even tried to speak. "In a moment, dove, let me have my time here."

It was absolutely insane how fast Mirio was. Running around the dorm for his exercise since it was raining. You had tried to get him to go outside with a raincoat, but once you opened the door, he would step away and change his mind.

"I'm just fine in here, thanks, though." And he went back to zooming around the common room and knocking things over for his gains.

Taking Shinso to a cat cafe was a nice choice for his birthday, except that he spent all his time on the floor with the cats. He wasn't worried about the coffee or tea or food, he was having fun with the cats. And you watched as he just laid on his back or his tummy, petting and cooing to the cats around him.

"Can we go again tomorrow?" Shinso asked as you both left, "Please, please, please? Did you see how cute they all were?"

"We can go tomorrow." You chuckled.

Shinso jumped around the empty sidewalk, grabbing your hands and just shaking with energy with how excited he was.

#anime #manga #x reader #boku no hero academia #bnha #mha #my hero academia #kirishima eijirou #sero hanta #shoto todoroki #hawks #keigo takami #mirio togata #hitoshi shinsou

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ichorai · 1 year

Text

i was just a kid ; marc spector.

track one of BROKEN MACHINE.

pairing ; marc spector x vigilante!gn!reader

synopsis ; khonshu wanted you dead. marc just wanted you.

words ; 6.6k

themes ; action, mild angst/fluff, vigilante au, thief au

warnings / includes ; blood/injury, cursing, mentions of human trafficking/sexual assault but not at all graphic, marc is basically chasing after reader for half the fic, we're traveling the world in this fic baby !!! khonshu being Annoying, reader doesn't know marc has DID and thinks he's crazy, a steven cameo !! and one (1) mention of spider-man and daredevil <3

main masterlist.

NEW DELHI, INDIA.

The street market was crowded, bustling with chatty tourists, loud salesmen, and traveling vendors. The air was heavy with the sweet, saccharine smell of fresh mangoes, intertwined with the faintest trace of turmeric, ginger and garam masala from other stalls you hurriedly passed by. You would’ve given anything to stop and try some of the food, if not for the terrifying white-suited fucker hunting you down.

The bleeding cut on your cheek he’d given you from when he threw his crescent-shaped boomerang in your direction throbbed. You’d barely been able to duck away in time. At least here, in the busy street, he couldn’t risk hurting anyone else by striking you long-range.

At least, you hoped so. You weren’t entirely sure how far this bastard was willing to go to get you. Sure, you’d made a lot of enemies in the past, but, to your recollection, you’d never met any moon-caped supers keen on taking your life before.

You were quick to duck through the tight-knit throng, panic setting in when you realized the market was thinning away—you were near the end of the street, and you no longer had the advantage of cover on your side.

With agile steps, you sprinted into an alleyway, glancing up the side of an apartment.

Then, you began to climb. You scaled the small grooves in the bricks, expertly balancing your weight just right so you wouldn’t fall. You’d done this a million times before, with much smoother surfaces to climb—after all, that was the bare minimum required of a thief.

You hauled yourself onto the rooftop, laying low so he wouldn’t be able to spot you from ground level.

Only—he wasn’t on ground level.

A shadow loomed over you just as you crouched by the rusted air conditioning unit, and you had but a millisecond to roll out of the way before his foot came crashing clean through the metal.

Well, fuck me, he can fly, you wryly thought.

“Glide!” the man behind the mask gruffed as he grabbed your arm and shoved you against the crumpled AC unit, the searing hot metal digging painfully into your skin. “I glide, I don’t fly!”

“I said that out loud?” you panted with a hoarse chuckle, before quickly twisting and kicking his knee, brandishing a sharp dagger from the utility belt loosely secured around your hips. Up close, his suit appeared to be fashioned from a multitude of bandages, not unlike the cheap mummies from old nineties halloween movies. “Sorry, would it be weird for me to ask why a toilet paper cosplayer is trying to murder me?”

The man offered you no response, only diving forward and landing a good punch to one side of your jaw, which made your vision go blurry with disorientation for a moment.

There was no way you could best him with strength—you needed to get away from him.

With quick, nimble fingers, you pulled two smoke bombs from your belt and threw them onto the ground. Large plumes of ashen white immediately ate up the space between you, and he was left blinded for a couple of seconds. You tugged a grenade out a moment later, pulling out the pin with your teeth before tossing it in his general direction and throwing yourself off the opposite side of the building, where you’d spotted a plastic-woven tarp over one of the stalls by the edge of the market.

You’d crashed straight through their booth, fruits and drinks spilling all over the street’s asphalt. The vendors started cussing at you in a language that was foreign to your ears, but you knew they were saying foul things nonetheless. With a groan, you pushed yourself up, ignoring the searing pain that ran down your leg and began running back into the crowd.

The explosion on the building had blown Marc back several meters, and he cursed beneath his breath as he pushed himself back up. Just as he was about to set back off to track you down, Khonshu’s bellowing voice made him halt in his motions.

“Let them go,” the God rumbled. There was an undertone of mild disappointment that laid stagnant beneath his voice, as if he’d just lost a game rather than a target. “We have more pressing matters at hand. Ammit’s followers are stealing more souls in Cuba.”

Marc’s brow furrowed. “Let them go? You want me to go to Cuba? That’s halfway across the world! I can finish the job, they can’t have gotten too far—”

“We have more pressing matters,” he repeated himself, this time with an edge to his voice. A headache pulsed angrily through Marc’s temple.

“Why’d you want them dead so bad? This target—that person, were they a follower of Ammit? Huh?”

Much to his frustration, Khonshu ignored him completely, merely brushing past his avatar. “Go to Havana,” the bird-skull rumbled over his shoulder. “I’ll meet you there.”

And with that, he disappeared.

ASTANA, KAZAKHSTAN.

A final stream of smoke fell from Elena’s lips as she pulled the cigarette away, dropping it into the floor to stub with her boot. She fixed you with a neutral expression as you made your way to her, though the unmistakable affection in her molten brown eyes gave her away.

“Took you long enough,” she said, glancing at the large black cloak you were wearing. Her demeanor gradually shifted into one of a more somber variety. “Verdict’s been decided. The court decided not to charge—all those police that beat my friends to death… they’re walking away free of consequence. The government’s gone to shit. Everything is more expensive now—riots are breaking out over fuel prices, which means more people are getting killed. Nobody is willing to help anymore.”

You nodded grimly. “What can I do?”

There was a dark glimmer to her eyes as she squared her jaw. “You’re going to help me burn down government buildings. I don’t know how many, but… as many as it takes for them to change.”

A hint of a grin graced your lips as you regarded your past-lover with a nostalgic kind of fondness. “It’s the first time I see you in years and you’re already throwing me headfirst into war.”

She offered you a shrug and a wry smile. “Don’t kid yourself. You live for this kind of shit.”

“Yeah, I guess I do,” you hummed distantly. “Where do we start?”

It was pandemonium.

Everybody was yelling—the protestors, the police, the civilians watching from the sides, the sparse firemen as they tried to put out the massive, roaring flames that were greedily swallowing the government building in its entirety. You had to admit, you were rather proud of your handiwork—absentmindedly wondering if Elena would be happy with it, as well.

Before you could dwell on it any longer, a foreign hand tightly seized around your wrist and began to drag you back away from the crowd. Your gaze wildly swiveled around in confusion to the man yanking you along, noting his heavy-set furrowed brows and his frustrated scowl. With as much strength as you could muster, you dug your heels into the ground and halted his motion, pulling against him with all your might. He didn’t relent, only staring you down with dark eyes that held the warbling reflections of the fire you set behind you.

“Who the fuck are you?!” you barked, starting to get more frantic as you fruitlessly attempted to get him to let go of you.

And when he spoke, it finally dawned on you.

Well, fuck me. It’s that bitch that chased me down in New Delhi. Wonder why he isn’t wearing his super suit… probably not to attract attention like last time. The news was all over him.

“You’re just getting more people killed,” he husked, clearly talking about the fire you’d caused, before brandishing a dark karambit knife, one that you swore gave you a cut just by looking at it. “No wonder he wants you dead.”

Fear wove down your spinal column when the blade poked your lower stomach in warning. “I’m sending a message,” you growled in reply, lips curled over your teeth in a snarl as you bristled. “And what about you? You’re gonna fix the problem by killing me? I don’t even know you! Some hero you are—those people protesting out there? They’re better than you will ever be.”

For a moment, his pupils darted back to the rioting crowd, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features, and you used the short-lived distraction to your advantage. You expertly kicked the knife out of his hand and landed a quick blow square in the center of his face, feeling his nose break beneath your knuckles.

Not wanting to push your luck—you remembered how fast he was during your last encounter—you gave him one final shove, sending him sprawling into a trash can with a groan and a muffled curse.

By the time he forced himself back onto his feet a second later, you’d already disappeared into the shadows.

Fuck. Khonshu was gonna kill him.

PODGORICA, MONTENEGRO.

Marc still wasn’t sure why Khonshu wanted you dead so badly. Then again, he wasn’t sure about anything when it came to Khonshu.

But he knew one thing for certain—if Marc truly wanted you dead, then you would’ve been six feet under weeks ago. Which meant… he wasn’t actively trying to kill you because he didn’t actually want you dead. All the others that he’d killed for Khonshu felt like they’d deserved it—rapists, abusers, pedophiles… and though Marc didn’t know you very well, he knew you weren’t anything like the people he’d killed before.

Marc didn’t know what he was doing.

Jaw clenched, he pulled the cap lower down his face, shoving his fists into the pockets of his jeans. He followed not too far behind you, silent as a wraith, watching as you merrily strode down the streets of Podgorica.

Finally, when you stopped by a little coffee truck to order an iced latte, Marc stepped forward to stand beside you.

For the first minute, you idly tapped away on your phone, smiling down at the screen briefly before pocketing the device. You glanced at him, thinking nothing of the person beside you, assuming they were just another civilian—

Then you froze.

You knew that face.

After all, you’d broken that very same nose less than a week ago. Strange, it looked just fine now.

Immediately, you hunkered down into a defensive position, backing away from him with quick steps. Then, you ran, sprinting away so quickly that Marc could’ve sworn a trail of dust kicked up beneath your feet.

The man in the coffee truck incredulously yelled out after you, followed by a string of what Marc could only assume was a creative litany of Montenegrin profanity.

Dropping a few shillings onto the truck’s counter, Marc grabbed your coffee and ran after you, shocked at how far you’d managed to get in such a short amount of time.

There was no denying that you were a fast runner—but as the old tale went, the quick hare would always get overly confident. You slowed down to a moderate jog when you glanced behind you, Marc nowhere in sight. With a relieved sigh, you turned the corner and slumped against a building, wiping the sweat from your brow with the back of your hand.

Damn, you’d kill for that iced coffee right about now.

As if on cue, Marc rounded the corner, catching you by surprise. You were just ready to turn tail and run away again, but his hand shot out and held onto your wrist, not unlike he did in Astana.

You spewed out a myriad of curses, ranging from calling him an ‘insufferable cucumber-dicked motherfucker’ to ‘smooth-brained, butt-faced swine’, wildly trying to get him to let go of you. If you weren’t violently bucking against him with all the grace of a panicked mare, he would’ve laughed at the creativity of your insults.

“Stop, I just want to talk!” exclaimed Marc, dodging when you pushed yourself forward to try and wrap your hands around his throat.

“Last two times I saw you, you tried to kill me!” you breathlessly spat. “Sorry if I don’t quite trust you now!”

“I’m unarmed,” he gritted out, stepping back slightly to allow you to scan your gaze over him. Though you didn’t want to admit it, you knew that if Marc really wanted to kill you, you would’ve been dead long ago. “I just want to ask you a couple things. And look—I brought your coffee!”

A low hiss fell from your lips. “I’m not answering jack shit.”

With that, you lunged forward and shoved him hard—so hard that he stumbled into the jagged brick wall behind him with an oomf. The iced latte sloshed right out of its cup and spilled all over his chest. His head struck painfully against the stone and his vision went blurry for a moment, expression faltering.

You stepped away, watching him with cautious, narrowed eyes.

After a long, pregnant pause, the man blinked in a dazed fashion, seeming confused.

“What? Where am I? What’s going on?” he said, accent suddenly… British. He fixed you with a genuinely miffed gaze, appearing slightly frightened at your withering glower.

You didn’t stay to answer his question.

As you were turning on your heel to run away, you faintly heard him mutter to himself, “Where the bloody hell am I?”

Crazy bastard.

VALENCIA, SPAIN.

Your knuckles were split. Blood dribbled down your fist, a mixture of yours and the man whose face you were caving in.

One of your hands was bunched into the collar of his shirt, holding him down as you rained punches on him. The sickening sound of his bones giving way with your strikes didn’t deter you, and you only snarled and hit him again as he blubbered out prayers in Spanish. Blood-flecked spittle dripped from his busted lips.

“Who are you praying to?” you hissed, releasing his collar in favor of wrapping your hand over his throat, squeezing tight. The dull green of his eyes flashed with panic, legs flailing weakly. “The gods will not listen to the likes of you—I’ll make sure of it.”

A strangled wail erupted from him.

And just as you were about to land another punch, you found yourself being shoved away from the man, and promptly lifted off the floor with the scruff of your shirt collar, shoving you against a wall. You began kicking and twisting blindly, cursing furiously when you saw the man you were beating up scurry onto his feet and haggardly sprint away.

Your struggling was of no avail, and you weren’t at all surprised to see the same person that’s been trying to track you down for months now.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he snarled, brows heavily furrowed and dark eyes stormy with anger. “You were about to kill that guy!”

“He deserves it,” you bit out, glaring back at him with just as much intensity. “The fucker’s been stalking a friend of mine and sexually assaulted her daughter.”

There was a beat of silence. Marc’s cross expression seemed to drain away, but he still bore a stern face as he slowly let you go. You slid down the wall and got back onto your feet with a wince.

“Why have you been following me?” you huffed, dusting off your pants. “You think I don’t know that if you really wanted to kill me, I would be dead by now?”

Marc squared his jaw and leveled his gaze on you. “Someone… close to me wants you dead. I want to know why first—he won’t tell me.”

“Sounds like you shouldn't be all that close to him, then,” you snorted derisively.

“Not for a lack of trying,” the man dryly replied.

With a scoff, you stepped forward and wiped your bloody knuckles onto his shirt, leaving a damp trail of darkening crimson. “There’s way too many reasons a person would want me dead,” you whispered, one hand patting his chest. The other trailed down, down, down…

To the high-rise potted plant beside you. You grabbed a fistful of dirt.

“See, he’s not exactly what you’d call a person—”

Before Marc could finish his sentence, you chucked the dirt straight into his face. He inhaled some of the soil and doubled over, pounding on his chest as he coughed it out. With a growl, he frustratedly swiped the remaining flecks of dirt out of his eyes, blearily looking back up. And, to none of his surprise but much of his dismay, you were already gone.

OSLO, NORWAY.

“Why aren’t they dead yet, Marc?” grumbled Khonshu in that grating, gravely tone of his. Even though the God had no eyes, Marc could still feel his stare burning straight through him.

With a frown, Marc was quick to respond, “Because you haven’t told me why yet.”

“You’ve never needed a reason before—always blindly following my orders,” the bird-skull crooned. “What makes them so different?”

There was a bitter taste to the back of Marc’s throat. What made you so different?

“Because I don’t know if they deserve it, alright?” he retorted, crossing his arms to glare up at the tall figure. “You can’t just expect me to kill everyone who mildly inconveniences you.”

Harrumphing, Khonshu snapped back, “They are naught but an inconvenience—they are a disruption to the very balance of nature. Y/N has taken justice into their own hands, and that is a very dangerous thing for a simple mortal to do.”

Marc cast his gaze away in frustration, pacing back and forth. “But that’s exactly what you make me do.”

“Yes, because you are my avatar,” deadpanned the God. “And Y/N is not. Though, they might as well be because you are being a fool.”

He could feel one of his eyes twitch. There wasn’t ever a conversation Marc could remember where Khonshu didn’t insult him.

“They’re doing what they think is right,” defended Marc. “They’re not hurting people just for the sake of it.”

“That is not for them to decide!” bellowed the God, which made him step back just a bit. “They have done terrible, unimaginable things in the past—though mistakes some may be—and they will continue to make them. Take a look for yourself.” With that, Khonshu swept his arm out, gesturing to the large bank across the street, large windows giving him a clear view of what was going on inside.

His heart dropped down to his stomach when he saw you.

You were wearing a mask that covered the entirety of your features, except for your eyes and your mouth. The rest of your body was shrouded with simple, dark clothing, suitable for running.

And, most notably, you had a gun in your hand, pointing straight at the trembling woman working behind the counter. Your mouth was moving and you gestured with lax, calm movements, despite the explicit terror written across the woman’s face.

Marc’s brow furrowed. Damn it.

He watched as you snatched the bag of money the woman slowly slid over, and hightailed out of the bank with the gun still gripped tightly in your hand. You ran the opposite way, before disappearing down another block. Glancing over at Khonshu, only to see that he was nowhere in sight, Marc huffed out a sigh and began sprinting after you.

One downside of Oslo was that their buildings weren’t exactly the easiest to climb—which meant that you had to stick to the ground and trust your speed.

Marc wasn’t as fast as you without his suit, that was for certain. But with his suit—he could glide.

And so that’s how the white-caped figure dropped straight down in front of you out of seemingly nowhere, which elicited a shriek of surprise from you, nearly dropping the bag out of shock. You had pulled your mask off long ago, shoving it into the knapsack shrugged over your shoulders, along with the gun.

This clearly wasn’t your first time doing this.

“You,” was what you incredulously breathed out, eyes wide. “You must be obsessed with me or something.”

Not in the mood to play around, Marc growled out, “Why are you doing this? Give the money back. It’s not yours.”

“Who said it was for me?” you countered, upper lip curled in contempt. You tilted your head at him, eyeing his suit with interest, before returning back to your scathing disposition. “Not that it’s any of your business, but this money’s for the small orphanage a couple miles from here. They’re barely getting by with the money the government gives them. I have a kid there I know.”

With bated breath, Marc willed the suit away, leaving him in a dark sweatshirt and a pair of woolen pants. He eyed you suspiciously, still not too sure if he should trust you.

Sensing this, you rolled your eyes and unzipped your bag. “If you don’t believe me—check my gun. It’s blank.” You fished out the small weapon and handed it over to him with the end pointed towards you so he wouldn’t think you were going to shoot him. “No bullets.”

Marc didn’t need to check it—by now he knew you were telling the truth. But he looked into the chamber anyway, finding it void of any ammunition.

“Can I go now? We both know you’re not going to kill me. The cops will be looking,” you said, voice a bit more gentle than before. He noticed that the anger on your face had melted away, leaving only urgency and another tumultuous emotion that he couldn’t quite pinpoint.

When he offered you no response, finally relenting, you nodded once to him, a glimmer of gratitude behind your irises. And with that, you began running again, effortlessly disappearing into the shadows.

“Fool,” thundered a rumbling growl from somewhere above him. Marc looked up, but the bird-skulled God was nowhere to be found.

COLUMBUS, OHIO.

Damn. Nothing hit harder than classic, greasy, American cheeseburgers with a side of curly fries and a milkshake. You shifted eagerly on the sticky red leather of the booths, shooting the waitress who’d handed you your food a flirtatious smirk and a ten dollar bill, which she took with an equally salacious wink.

You grinned down at your food before taking the first bite into the burger, a muffled noise of content falling from your throat.

“Am I interrupting something?” said a frustratingly familiar voice, the man sliding into the seat across from you. ��It sounds like you were just about to have the greatest sex of your life—with a cheeseburger.”

You pointedly glared at him, though it lacked any true heat. After about a dozen deliberately slow chews, you finally swallowed down the food. Marc looked like he wanted to say something else, but you merely held up a finger, slurping on the paper straw of your milkshake. He pursed his lips with a mildly aggrieved look.

Finally, you tilted your head at him.

“Is there something you want from me?” you asked him casually, reaching to the end of the table to grab a napkin and wipe at the corner of your lips. “Because I’m not in the drug business anymore, if that’s what you’re looking for. Or is it something else, hm?”

It seemed that Marc hadn’t completely thought this through. Sure, he’d planned out what he roughly wanted to say to you, but now that you were right in front of him, he found his tongue running dry. He fumbled for words, fists clenching and unclenching by his knees.

“I don’t want to kill you. Or hurt you at all, for that matter.”

You scoffed, remembering the instances in which he’d hurt you plenty.

“I just… I want to know your side of the story. I want to know why you do what you do,” he said, a bit quieter.

For a moment, Marc thought you’d just tell him to piss off. But there was a gradual shift to your features, going from obvious irritation to gentle curiosity.

“Alright. I’ll cut you a deal,” you said, popping a curly fry into your mouth. “I tell you about my tragic backstory, and you tell me all about this… thing that’s been wanting to kill me. And before I start—I’m gonna need your name. I can’t keep mentally cataloging you as the toilet paper man.”

And for the first time since you met him all those months ago—Marc laughed. It was deep and gratingly genuine, coming from the very bottom of his chest.

“Well, first of all, it’s not toilet paper. It’s the ceremonial armor of Khonshu’s temple. And second, it’s Marc. Marc Spector.”

“Ceremonial armor of whose what now?” you balked.

A hint of a smile graced the corner of Marc’s lips. “Khonshu—Egyptian God of the moon. I’m his avatar. He’s the one that wanted me to kill you. He called you a disruption to nature—said that you were wrongfully taking justice into your own hands.” As he spoke, the smile began to wane away, and he regarded you in a more serious light. “I want to know why he thinks that.”

You stared down at your plate of fries, stunned. An Egyptian God wanted you dead? You knew you pissed people off, but Gods too?

“And if you don’t like what you hear?” you quietly asked, lifting your gaze to meet his. “Will you drag me out of the diner and strangle me to death?”

Though you could tell he didn’t like saying it, Marc’s face was set in stone when he leveled with you. “I’ll give you a head’s start.”

Another beat of silence. You picked up another fry and popped it into your mouth. The plate slid across the table as you nudged it towards him.

“Alright, Marc. Settle in, have some fries, order a milkshake—it’s a long story.”

And you told him everything. You told him about your childhood—rumbling stomachs, nimble thieving hands, falling off of buildings when running away from cops. You told him about your teenage years—pulling off heists, brokering deals with gangs, breaking nearly every bone in your body being reckless. You told him about your early adult years—falling in love with Elena, getting more comfortable as a vigilante, as you liked to call yourself, meeting other superheroes and helping out on occasion. Marc seemed to recognize Spider-Man and Daredevil’s names when you mentioned them in passing, his eyebrows arching up closer to his hairline.

You told him that you now spend your days traveling around the globe helping people.

By the time you were done spilling your entire life story, your fries and burger were cleanly polished off.

Marc was silent for a long time, as if unsure what to say.

“I was in love once, too,” he said in a tentative manner, gaze trained on the table. “Her name was Layla.”

“Oh, yeah?” you curiously said, sipping on the last frothy remnants of your milkshake at the bottom of the glass. “And how’d that work out for you?”

There was a sad glint to his eyes. “Not so good. We’re divorced now.” He cleared his throat before you could press him about it. “What happened with you and Elena?”

It was now your turn to stare out the window in a despondent manner. “Same as you. Except we were never married. My lifestyle was… too much for her.”

Marc nodded in understanding. “Yeah, me too.”

The two of you stared at the glossy table in silence.

“You still in love with her?”

You lifted your gaze to meet his. “I love her, yeah—I always will. I’m just not in love with her anymore.”

The man across from you hummed. There was a newfound understanding between you two—unspoken, but the both of you could feel it.

“Do you still love Layla?”

A ghost of a smile graced his features, but it was gone just as quickly as it came. “Not in the same way I used to. But I do.”

With a final slurp of your straw, your drink glass was emptied. “Seems like we’re a lot more similar than first meets the eye, huh?”

Marc fixed you with a loose, awkward smile. Without another word, he pulled the bill of his cap lower down his face, and slid out of the booth. It seemed that he wasn’t going to be strangling you tonight.

You didn’t look back when he walked out of the diner, the bell hooked by the doortop tolling with his departure.

YEKATERINBURG, RUSSIA.

The bird skull was saying something. His bony beak was moving. You could feel the vibrations of his thundering voice beneath your feet. And yet—you had no fucking clue what he was talking about.

You blinked up at the God with wide eyes.

“Could you repeat that?” you winced out, having not picked up a single word Khonshu had said in the past three minutes. The God grumbled, and somehow glared at you despite having no eyes within his bony skull. Beside you, Marc let out a muffled snort.

“You insolent buffoon,” the bony figure snarled. “Have you not been listening?”

Despite the bristling God in front of you, you found the entire situation to be amusing. “Sorry, it’s just… your head’s really big. It’s kinda distracting. Just paraphrase yourself—I don’t need all the terms and conditions.”

Marc’s shoulders shook with silent laughter, but he immediately sobered up when Khonshu rounded his pointed beak to him, back straightening.

“This is a gravely serious matter—!”

“You know what else is serious?” you snapped, pulling your thick woolen coat closer to your quivering body. “Catching hypothermia! Did you really have to pick Russia of all places? We couldn’t have met on a warm beach in the Caribbeans, or something?”

If Khonshu had eyelids, you were sure they would’ve been twitching with repressed agitation by now.

A deep baritone of a sigh fell from the lanky God. He leaned his weight against his crescent-tipped staff, as if willing his own patience to hold steadfast.

“I said—” he started again, watching you cautiously, “—that I will be letting go of your past sins. But only because my avatar is so keen on you, and because you show a consistent effort to rid the world of evil. However, if you slip up so much as once, I will personally see that to an unkind descent into the afterlife. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal!” you harrumphed, tucking your frigid nose into the collar of your fur coat. “And I did those things to people who deserved it—which is exactly the same as what you do, you bony hypocrite! Can we go inside now?”

The God grumbled something unintelligible, though you suspected it had something to do with your impertinence, and disappeared in the blink of an eye.

“You’ll get used to him,” assured Marc, placing a hand on your back to lead you back inside. “He doesn’t get any better but—you’ll get used to it.”

“That’s reassuring,” you dryly responded, teeth beginning to chatter. As soon as the two of you started to walk back to the small little city hotel, you elbowed his side with a playful grin. “So… you’re keen on me, huh?”

Marc gave you an unimpressed look. Snowflakes danced with the wind and landed in his neatly-combed curls. “Khonshu had to believe that I liked you—the last thing he’d want is a sloppy, grieving avatar.”

“Mmh, I don’t know…” you said, tapping your finger against your chin in thought. “He’d probably like that, considering he’s one manipulative son of a bitch. Maybe he just secretly likes me and wants to keep me around.”

“Yeah,” snorted Marc. He halted in his tracks, forcing down a smile. “That, or I blackmailed him.”

Your eyes widened, frost clinging to your lashes and brows. “You blackmailed an Egyptian God?”

“Let’s just say that he’s had a sticky romance with the Egyptian Goddess of love—ironically, she’s one of the few beings that he’s genuinely terrified of. I threatened to get in contact with her avatar if he didn’t absolve you.”

You kicked at a small build-up of snow by the sidewalk, an excited gleam to your irises. “Crazy how even the Gods have petty dating drama to gossip about,” you commented, turning to him. His nose was tinted a faint shade of red from the cold, bits of white frost freckling his hair and his clothes. “Thanks for not killing me, by the way,” you added as an afterthought, fixing him with a warm smile.

“Just keep out of trouble,” he gently reminded, mirroring your soft grin. The two of you were now standing in front of your dingy little motel—and Marc apparently had something to attend to halfway across the world in Cuba.

So this was goodbye.

For now, at least.

Without thinking, you leaned forward to press your cold lips against the warmth of his cheek, the tip of your nose grazing his cheekbone as you laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Thanks,” you whispered when you pulled away slightly, breath misting into an opaque fog. Marc was regarding you with an expression that bordered on fondness, which was certainly a new look that you found yourself craving for more. “I haven’t really properly talked to anybody in ages so… this was nice. Goodbye, Marc.”

With that, you turned on your heel and headed into the hotel, grateful for the blast of warmth from the overhead heater, though you could still feel Marc’s burning stare bore holes into your back, even as you turned the corner and disappeared from his sight.

ADDIS ABABA, ETHIOPIA.

Blood, everywhere.

Gunshots in the distance.

Snarling men rounding the corner—human traffickers.

Your dagger glinting beneath the hot Ethiopian sun.

A man screaming as you sliced his throat.

Gurgling.

Red on your hands. On your clothes. On your shoes.

Two successive punches—one to your stomach, and the other to your face.

Pain blooming beneath your skin.

A fist around your throat.

Squeezing.

Choking.

Dark spots dancing about your vision.

Your nails clawing into their eyes.

Air.

Gasping for breath.

Wheezing.

You desperately parried away another assailant’s knife.

A song of steel against steel.

More gunshots flying every which way.

You dove behind large metal crates.

Sand in your shoes.

Copper on your tongue.

Crashing. Yelling. Cursing.

Your fingers flexing around the hilt of your dagger.

Bated breath.

You looked around the crate.

Marc fucking Spector.

A ghost of a smile on your lips.

Your name being called out—surprise in his tone.

“Fancy seeing you here!” you shouted.

Marc’s fist curled into one of the traffickers’ collars.

“It’s been a while!” came his mildly amused reply.

A grunt. A punch. A groan of pain.

His white cape fluttered with the wind.

“You down for a burger or something later?”

You spoke calmly, as if you weren’t currently strangling someone with a long power cord.

The man fell limp in your hold.

“Sure—I could go for a burger,” he called out,

Blood trickled down your nose and grazed your lip.

You wiped it away with the back of your hand.

The last of the traffickers was struck down with Marc’s crescent boomerang.

A breath of relief.

Drenched in blood (most of which was not yours), you made your way to Marc.

“You clean up nice,” he joked.

A roll of your eyes.

“Oh, shucks, Marc,” you simpered with a mischievous grin, dragging a bloody hand down his face once he retracted his mask.

He grimaced in disgust, but didn’t push you away.

A laugh fell from your throat, hoarse and echoing.

You looped your aching, bleeding arms with his.

“Let’s go get that burger.”

LIVERPOOL, ENGLAND.

“Ow—ugh, Marc, could you go any faster?” you barked through the dirty cloth wedged between your teeth, glaring up at him with watering eyes. You’d endured pain far worse than this, sure, but Marc was taking twice as long stitching you up than when you’d do it yourself. Though, admittedly, whenever you had to patch yourself up, it was a rather shoddy job and often left a much larger, gnarled scar than it would’ve, had you properly taken care of it.

The man above you shook his head, dark curls hanging loosely over his forehead. “Stop moving and maybe it’ll hurt less,” he replied, the tip of his tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth as he worked on your stitches. “You know, just because we work together now and I heal quickly doesn’t mean you do, too.”

With a grimace, you tore the cloth from your mouth, chucking it somewhere across the small motel room to freely speak to him. “It was just a mistake,” you replied, nearly doubling over with a strained groan when he punctured the skin of your abdomen with a small needle, where the deep gash resided, one last time. “I timed myself wrong. Happens sometimes.”

Marc let his eyes roam over your exposed skin, brows divoting ever so slightly upon seeing the multiple other scars littering your body. They were memories of your past, and you weren’t ashamed of them.

“Doesn’t look like it only happens sometimes,” he murmured, tying off his sutures and cleaning off the last bits of flaking, dried blood on your stomach before binding the open wound with thin bandages.

“You worried about me?”

Marc didn’t spare you a response. He busied himself by putting away the medkit and tossing the discarded, bloodied clothes into the bathroom sink. When he came back to sit on the bed beside you, you had gingerly moved positions so that you were propped up against the creaking bed’s headboard.

“How are you feeling?”

“Shitty,” you whispered. “England fucking stinks.”

Marc chuckled, a small smile curling his lips upwards, though you noticed that it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

The two of you sat in silence for a while.

“Thanks for stitching me up,” you told him.

“Thanks for not dying on me,” he replied. His hand sought yours and your fingers laced with his. “I know we’ve only been working together for a month by now, but I’m starting to really like you.”

With one last painful shift, you moved so that your faces were only inches away. You paused when your lips were just a hairsbreadth from his, giving him time to yank you away if need be.

But he didn’t.

His lips met yours with a tender sort of sadness, pouring months of frustration and anger into the embrace. A warm hand came up to cradle the back of your head, angling you closer, wary of your newly-stitched wound.

Forehead resting against his, you gently pulled away, finding solace in the fact that he chased after your lips just a bit, before cracking his dark eyes open.

“We shouldn’t do this,” he mumbled, gaze darting back down to your parted mouth.

“Okay,” came your broken reply.

And despite it all, he threw all caution to the wind and kissed you again. Again, and again, and again—far into the night, until the two of you passed out on the stained sheets of the motel bed, limbs intertwined and your nose pressed against his throat, where you could hear the soft thrumming of his heartbeat.

Unbeknownst to the two of you, Khonshu was hovering on the rooftop, finding himself rather glad that his avatar had finally found someone he could trust—even if that someone was the very bane of his existence.

“I need a new avatar,” the God harrumphed to nobody but himself, knowing full and well that he wasn’t letting go of Marc Spector and his… counterparts any time soon.

#marc spector x reader #marc spector fanfiction #moon knight x reader #moon knight fanfiction #marc spector angst #marc spector fluff #marc spector imagines #marc spector drabbles #marc spector fanfic #marc spector x you #moon knight fluff #moon knight angst #moon knight fanfic #moon knight x you #moon knight drabbles #moon knight imagines #moon knight oneshot #steven grant x reader #steven grant fanfiction

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melanieph321 · 9 months

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Request 1: can u do no son of mine 3 pls (ik i’m late) but j more maybe where the reader goes in the pool with him and the aunts are romanticizing and the uncles r making sure he doesn’t get toó touchy

Request 2: Hey, can I request Ruben where the reader is pregnant & has symptoms but just blames it on other things, like bloating/eating bad food. Ruben picks up on this and suggests that she may be pregnant? Thank you x

Ruben Dias x Reader - No Son of Mine Part 3

Enjoy!

Another day was spent around the pool. The São Paulo heat made it impossible for any other activity during the summer. You were glad that you and Ruben would be going back to England soon, although you would surley miss your parents, siblings, aunties, uncles and all of your cousins. Being surrounded by a big family made you feel very loved and safe. And you were greatful that the they made Ruben feel the same way.

"Y/N, come on, join me!" Ruben said, whom for the second time urged you to abandon your taning bed and join him in the cool water.

"I'm good here, thanks." You said, to Rubens obvious disapointment. He returned to the children, but did not play with them with the same vigor as before.

"Look what you did." Your aunty hissed. She sat two taning beds down from you, next to your mother and sister. "If you don't join that man in the water right now, you know damn well who will."

"Who?" You frowned.

"Me." She chuckled.

"And us." Your sisters second.

"Me three!"

"Mom?" You gasped.

"We will all go."

Your oldest aunty stood, letting her robe slide off her shoulders and onto the taning bed. She wore a yellow bathing suit, proud to show it off.

"Alright ladies, let's go!"

"But..."

One by one they all got up, leaving your side to join Ruben, your fiance, in the pool.

"Where are they going?" Your uncles appeard, all of them as confused as you.

"To swim with my man." You muttered.

"Nah uh, not on my watch!"

Your uncle stripped himself of his shirt, dive bombing into the pool without hesitation. The children screamed whilst the aunties laughed and soon everyone jumped in, everyone except for you. But you set your self on the edge of the pool, the fear of being the odd man out if you didn't.

Your feet dangled in the crystal-clear water. The summer sun beating down on your back, warming your skin. You watched the others have the time of their lives, splashing around. You were anxious to join them, something holding you back.

Your stomach churned, the feeling uncomfortable. You had been feeling bloated for the past week, with intermittent headaches and bouts of nausea that left you feeling exhausted. It had become increasingly difficult for you to keep up with your daily routines, and even the idea of slipping into a swimsuit seemed daunting.

Ruben noticed your drifting gaze and waded out of the pool, his wet hair dripping onto his broad shoulders. Sitting down beside you, he gently placed his hand over yours.

"Y/N, what's wrong?" He asked, eyes filled with concern.

You sighed, voice trembling with uncertainty. "I don't know, Ruben. I just feel off lately. I'm bloated, and I've been having all these strange symptoms. It's been bothering me all week."

Ruben's brow furrowed as he listened attentively. He had noticed the change in you and understood the unease, however he was one step ahead of you.

"Have you considered taking a pregnancy test?" He gently suggested.

Your eyes widened, breath catching in your throat. The idea had crossed your mind but seemed too daunting to confront. You had been hoping that the symptoms were just a passing phase or perhaps related to stress. However, Ruben's suggestion made you realize that it may be time to face your fears.

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt to check," You said, wavering between apprehension and curiosity.

Ruben squeezed your hand reassuringly. "We'll do it together. Whatever the result, we'll face it together and support each other."

Together with Ruben you pushed yourself up from the pool's edge, and together you made your way towards the house. Thankfully your family was too busy to notice.

Entering the bathroom, you unwrapped the pregnancy test while Ruben stood beside you, facing the door. His presence provided much-needed stability.

Silence enveloped as you followed the test instructions, the anticipation reaching its peak. After peeing on the stick all that was left to do was wait. Ruben had stopped facing the wall and held you in his arms whilst you waited, your hearts beating in unison.

Moments later, the test's results appeared, and you gasped, tears pooling in your eyes. Ruben's grip around your hand tightened, his own excitement evident on his face. The test was positive, revealing the beautiful and unexpected answer to your worries.

Overwhelmed with joy and disbelief, You and Ruben embraced, your laughter filling the bathroom. In that moment, all fears and uncertainties melted away, replaced by the exhilaration of new beginnings.

"Do we have to tell your dad?" Ruben spoke into your tight hug. "I don't think he'll be happy to know that I got you pregnant before our wedding."

You laughed. It felt so good to laugh again. As the news sank in, you realized that your worries and discomfort had not been in vain. They were simply a prelude to the miracle growing within you. And with Ruben's unwavering support by your side, you knew that you were ready to embrace every step of this journey, no matter where it led you.

You squeezed his hand, "No, let's tell everyone!"

#fanfiction #man city #manchester city #football imagine #ruben dias #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias imagine #footballer x reader #footballer imagine #football angst

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fanfoolishness · 10 months

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I've been meaning to dive into how much I love Cal and Cere's tension, and their relationship, in Fallen Order. It's so well-written and well-acted, and I love how much both of them grow throughout their time together. Buckle in, folks, this is a long one!

Here, Cal's just been rescued by the Mantis crew after being kidnapped to fight the Haxion Brood. This is something he has every right to be furious at Greez about. Greez's gambling debts led the Brood to put out bounties on him, and when they couldn't get him, they snagged a kid who just happened to fall into Greez's orbit. Cal and BD-1 were both at risk of losing their lives for Greez's mistakes. While Greez is appropriately apologetic, Cal barely even pays attention. He stares at Cere, his shoulders slumped, expression barely hiding his hurt.

He's still reeling from what he learned on Zeffo the day before. From who he learned it from.

The Second Sister cornered and nearly killed him, goading him about being a weak Padawan, about Jaro Tapal. But she also revealed that she was Cere's former Padawan, that Cere had lied to Cal, and that Cere was responsible for what had happened to Trilla.

This devastates Cal.

He holds it together as much as he can. While still on Zeffo, he allows himself a moment of real vulnerability, asking quietly, "Cere, why didn't you tell me?" But by the time he's rescued from the Brood, that vulnerability shifts into disappointment and a desperate hope that somehow Trilla was lying to him.

I love what they do with him here. He's sarcastic. Angry. "I had a nice chat with the Second Sister." He waits a second to drop the bomb. "Trilla." This is Cal Kestis at his most teenaged, snarky and hurt and venomous. He still keeps it reeled in -- he did grow up a Jedi, after all, he's not gonna cuss her out or anything absurd like that -- but he's so human here, and so young.

There's that desperate hope. He asks Cere if it's true, if she really betrayed Trilla to the Empire.

But Cere, for her part, can't go there yet. How she can explain to this traumatized Padawan whose connection to the Force is still so fragile, that not all masters sacrificed themselves for their Padawans? How can she admit it to herself? She tries to deflect and to tell Cal that Trilla would do anything to compromise their mission, because she can't yet say "Yes. I tried to protect her, and I failed, and she paid the price." Because who can just say that? Who can take a look at the lowest they have ever been and stare at it with the cold light of honesty and say yes, the bad things you've heard about me are absolutely true? And imagine trying to do that when you're also trying to make amends, to move forward, to protect other children -- and you know that that protection starts right here, right now, with this one boy, and you've got to do anything you can to earn his trust?

So she deflects, and avoids saying anything of substance, and Cal's having none of it.

Check the subtitle here. We got the ?! in the house!!! Cal has to know, how can she not know how important this is? Because now that he's off Bracca, the safety valve's gone. He's got to do something of meaning now, got to help people the way he should have been doing all along. His own survival? Fine. Who needs it now. If he can just do something meaningful, if he can just keep someone else from having to go through what he did, then by the Force he's going to do it. Once in motion a Cal Kestis in motion must stay in motion, for the alternative is terrifying.

"Is it true?!" and he doesn't know what to think about the former Jedi before him, if he can trust anything she'd told him so far, if she'll protect him if the time comes, if she'll give in to the Empire again. He's pissed off and wounded and scared. Cere and Trilla's relationship has nothing to do with him and everything to do with him.

And Cere just acquiesces that Trilla was her apprentice, and Cal snaps, "You should have told me."

They don't get any more time to deal with it, because Kashyyyk needs them.

If you keep having Cal and Cere interact after this point, Cal is noticeably brittle. Cere tries to apologize, but Cal has thrown up his walls, deciding that fine, this is how it is now, and the trust they were starting to share is over. He doesn't want to talk about it when Cere tries to bring it up... but he lets Greez see how hurt he still is. That's safer than trying to talk to Cere about it directly.

Compare Cal asking why she couldn't tell him, and sharing how he feels like she broke their sense of being a team...

... To Cal's response after Cere admits she should have told him the truth from the beginning. That's what he said earlier that he wanted, but here, he's having none of it. It's too hard to get into with her. He's too afraid of what he'll find if they're really honest at this point, so he tries to shift the focus back to the mission. Things are broken between him and Cere, fine, but they can still do their work. He clings to that. As hurt as Cal is, he knows what they're doing still makes sense, and he still wants to fight against the Empire. If he has to do that with someone he can't trust, well, so be it.

And Cere understands. Despite her fear of going into the truth, she knows she's the one with greater wisdom and experience here. She doesn't tell him he's being a petulant child about something that has nothing to do with him, or tell him he needs to get over it. If she can't be fully honest with him, not yet, she does an admirable job of being otherwise open and accepting of his feelings. She knows he'll either come around, or he won't, and all she can do is offer the space for him to do so.

By the end of the second Kashyyyk mission, Cere's hoping that enough time has passed that maybe Cal's ready to hear more. Perhaps she's also guilty that Trilla went after him again, and that the Ninth Sister also put Cal's life in danger. Whatever the reason, she tries to reach out to him again. She gives more explanation that she has so far, and you can see just how difficult this is for her. All three characters are acted so well here -- Greez awkwardly in the middle putting way too much salt on his food, Cere's halting explanation, and Cal's completely closed off body language. H

ell, we practically even get an eye roll from him. Yeah. This dude's still a teenager.

...but one who's acting this way out of hurt, and out of not knowing/being afraid to know the whole story. Once you know everything that happened to Cere and Trilla, it's not wrong to want to shake Cal and tell him to be more understanding! They were in an impossible situation! There was no way to win and they both lost!

But he doesn't know that, and at this point, it's easier -- less painful for him -- not to know. So he tells Cere it's okay, but the message is, I don't want to hear it. He's been thinking about it all along when he goes off on his missions, and he's come to the conclusion that yeah, Cere probably did the best she could, there's no point dwelling on it, and that's good enough to go on with the mission. It's fine. (He's fine.)

And then we get... Dathomir and Kujet's Tomb, and all of Cal's efforts to move forward in the Force, to be strong when Cere let him down, to focus on the mission, it all goes to hell.

Suddenly Cal's the one overwhelmed by regret and self-blame. He's forced to examine his own darkest day, and when confronted with it, he falls apart. He's heartbroken all over again and convinced that what happened to Master Tapal was entirely his own fault, even though Cere tries to absolve him by telling him the truth, that he was just a child. Cal can't hear a thing she's saying.

Both actors here are so, so good. Cal is scared and small and a hurt, grieving child so desperate to find a sense of control about what happened that he blamed himself. His voice breaks, he hunkers down into himself, he holds his ruined lightsaber as tight as he can. And Cere finally lets the poison spill out, the self-hatred she's been carrying so long, she gets down on his level and manages to say everything she's been holding in. It comes out in a frantic, breathless rush, and honestly, both of them bring tears to my eyes in this scene.

So she's finally open. Finally lays it all out. What happened to her, how she used the dark side, how she failed both Trilla and herself.

More importantly, both for herself and for Cal, she reveals how she kept going. How she found a new hope. How she decided that this was not the end of her story.

Now we see what Cere was like as a Jedi truly. She's compassionate, but commanding. She instructs Cal to get up. Tells him he's going to make a new lightsaber. That it isn't over. That he can move on. He just has to take the first step.

And Cal wipes the tears from his eyes, and nods, and he believes her.

The lesson stays with him. He always was a fast learner. He goes to Ilum and rebuilds his lightsaber, goes to Dathomir and confronts his past again and this time succeeds. He learns that failure is not the end, but a part of the path. He starts to thaw towards Cere, grateful that she didn't turn away from him when he fell to his lowest and confessed what had happened to Master Tapal.

Then Trilla confronts him on Bogano, and he sees what happened first hand.

The entire sequence is gutting. Trilla's fear and agony are palpable, and Cere's devastation -- both emotional and dark side -- are so painful to see. Cal's utterly overwhelmed by it, sent into a partial seizure from the intensity of the flashback. (That dazed expression afterward sure looked post-ictal to me.) And when he gets back to the Mantis, bereft a Holocron, instead of telling Cere the next thing they need to do for the mission....

Cal Kestis halts everything because he has to apologize.

He wastes no time. He tells Cere immediately he saw what they went through. He says "I'm so sorry." And he takes responsibility for his own behavior, that arrogance that he clung to that told him he would never fail someone that way.

The thing is, Cere was comfortable never hearing this apology from him. She had started making peace with it, ever since Dathomir, with what she had done. She never expected him to empathize like this, but hearing it must have been such a powerful, emotional feeling. It's only after Cal apologizes and makes things right between them that he goes forward to discuss what happened to the Holocron and what they need to do next.

When it's Cere who takes the news hard, who blames herself... look who's there, reflecting his master's teachings right back at her. He tells her that mistakes are in the past, that they're in this together, that she won't be going after the Holocron alone; he even reaches out and puts a hand on her shoulder, starting to grow from a mentee to an equal, to someone who can support her as she's been supporting him.

Seeing how Cal lifts Cere up during her darkest time, both here on the Mantis and later in Nur, as a reflection of what she did for him after Dathomir... I could scream about it, okay??? In fact I have been screaming about it! Right here! In this post! For several thousand words!!! Just seeing these two respect each other! Care for each other! Lift each other up!!! I can't even with it! They have both grown SO MUCH!

SHE'S SO PROUD OF HIM JUST LOOK

and then she KNIGHTS HIM and my heart just bursts with pride at how far they've both come, Cere finally embracing the Force again, Cal kneeling to accept a Knighthood he thought he would never, ever see....

you can't tell me he wasn't tearing up here. I saw how bright they made his eyes look in this split second. YOU CAN'T FOOL ME. Damn, I wish I could gif the little looks on his face right at this moment, because you can see so many emotions wash over him. Cameron Monaghan over here just exploding my heart. This kid!!!

...

anyway, I think that's all I've got. Just... CAL AND CERE! They mean a lot to me, okay???

#jedi: fallen order #jedi fallen order #jedi fallen order meta #jedi: fallen order meta #cal kestis #cere junda #my jedi posts #this took me entirely too long #like two hours ahahahaha #so i hope the length doesn't scare people off too much #i just had a lot of feelings after beating the game a second time and had to shriek about them for a bit

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