#messyyythoughts

[messyyythoughts]

the funny little things.

criminal minds Dr. Spencer Reid x female BAU reader

author’s note: oh dear... a new obsession, i fear! in all seriousness: this series single-handedly got me through the end of 2022, so what better to do than write something for it?! summary: your relationship with Dr Reid of the BAU is a good one, so good that there’s these little funny things that you both do with one another... warnings: working on murder cases (reader is part of BAU)/trauma from working on cases --> so read at your own discretion! ✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

when you first joined the BAU, you were nervous but who wouldn’t be?

you’d put your heart, blood, sweat and tears into passing those profiling classes and you’d passed with flying colours! your parents were very happy for you, knowing it had been a lifelong dream of yours

on your first day you didn’t have a desk set up, and you were mortified that the BAU had forgotten about you on your first day

you almost turned around and walked back out of that office, until you bumped into Spencer Reid, that absolute charmer.

“oh, sorry,” Reid smiled apologetically, “hey, is your name–” you both said your name at the same time. Reid’s face broke out into a smile, and he held out his hand. “I saw your reports, impressive work for someone so young.” he had his hands in his pockets as he spoke. “not that you’re too young for the job or anything.” he added hastily. “oh thank you, uh, I’m just doing my best really.” you were trying to not stumble over yourself as you spoke, recognising Dr Reid as he stood in front of you. he asked where your desk was, secretly hoping he’d be able to talk some more with you, until you admitted there wasn’t a desk ready for you. a flush of embarrassment crept up your face, and Reid pressed his lips together in thought. he motioned for you to follow him to his desk, which he pulled a spare chair to and presented it to you proudly. “we can, uh, share,” he said, “until they find you one.” you smiled shyly, placing your bag on your lap as you took one chair and he took the other. he really liked your energy, so quiet, but he knew once you realised you could do the job he’d see the other side of you. when JJ called the team to the briefing room for a meeting, you found that your legs were cemented to the seat. this was it, your first case, what you’d been waiting for your entire life. Reid was up and gone, and you followed after a second of muddled thinking. inside the room was a team of faces you hadn’t met yet, but you knew all about them. Reid had a spare chair by his side, and after realising JJ was waiting for you to sit, you hurried over. as you sat down, JJ started bringing up the pictures of the victims and crime scenes, reading out the background information. you finally felt like you were getting somewhere.

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you were exhausted to say the least when you returned to the jet for the journey home. you’d followed Reid like a lost puppy on this case, but the others had been kind to you. Emily asked how you were doing each time she saw you, always privately checking in. JJ would text you for updates, giving you a smile whenever you crossed paths. Rossi made you feel like you were being included by asking for your thoughts, coming to you for second opinions. Morgan never left you behind anywhere, always on guard as you two went around together. Hotch carefully watched your body language and facial expressions throughout the case, jumping in when he thought you were beginning to fall behind. and Miss Penelope was always gushing at how polite you were when calling her for help, and promised to see you as soon as you returned. you obviously felt very welcomed, and even as quiet fell across the jet, it was comfortable. you text your parents that you were done with your first case, and closed your eyes to doze. 

you didn’t even realise that you had leaned a bit too far across and had your head on Reid’s shoulder

he shuffled down a bit so your head rested easily, before taking out a book of his and picking up where he left off

the others soon noticed and couldn’t help but smile, because for once Reid looked content in the company of another person

after that, it was an unspoken rule that no matter where you sat on the jet, Reid was next to you. you almost always slept, unless a case had been particularly harrowing and it kept you awake thinking, and each time your head would fall onto Reid’s waiting shoulder. it was also another unspoken rule that when the jet lands, no one wakes you up, except Reid.

he’s the only person you’ll be happy to let you wake you up on the jet

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the drive home is always longer than the drive to work, you find, but this changed when Reid offered to help save the environment by carpooling!

when in Virginia, Reid likes carpooling with you to work, and dropping you off home at the end of the day

he’ll take you anywhere really if you ask him too :)

after a case, he has to see you walk in and lock the door behind you before driving away to his place

it gives him peace of mind that you’re safe without him there, not that he could attempt to physically fight a random intruder away, but he could certainly talk them into confusion!

to pass the time between being at home and going to work, where you’d see Reid again, you picked up the habit of reading.

when you bring a book with you anywhere, Reid makes a point of taking interest in it, then looking into it after you’ve finished it just so he can talk to you about it over the following weeks

even with the oddest of books, he’ll put himself through reading just so he knows what you’re talking about the next time he sees you

he would never have read The Hunger Games trilogy without your influence.

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it goes without saying that the BAU job is not an easy one. you’ve seen more mangled bodies than a graveyard, and walked through such gruesome crime scenes you were sure they weren’t real. the persistent nightmares started not long after your first few cases, and you told no one. not your parents, not even Reid, who you were sure had experienced nightmares too. there was one night in particular where you had been tossing and turning, then stretching and walking around your bedroom to try and tire yourself out. nothing stopped you from seeing the images of women that had been torn apart, discarded like they were nothing every time you closed your eyes. and then your morning alarm went off.

Reid noticed that you were off as you got into the car, no “good morning sunshine” or “hey handsome” as you normally said when buckling up

“you’re quiet, no sleep last night?” Reid asked, pulling away from your place and side-eyeing you

“yeah, sadly, it’s just one bad night though.” you half-smiled at him, trying to sleep in the car on the way to work

when you got there, Reid had coffee ready to go at all hours of the day, sometimes preempting your needs and placing a full mug on your desk before you could get up

at the end of the day where you’d only filled out paperwork, Reid saw that you were struggling, and had an idea

“so, I was thinking, there’s actually this new way to fall asleep by tricking your brain. we could try it tonight so you catch up on your sleep.” Reid said casually, as you finished more coffee. “I’ll do anything right now to get a decent night’s sleep.” you sighed, getting up to wash your mug before finishing up the paperwork for the night. Reid smiled as you walked off, the perfect plan in his head. once you were both done, Reid drove to your place, and joined you inside. “now what?” you asked, eyes heavy but brain still ticking over. “the fun part. you get changed, I’ll do the rest.” Reid started messing with your TV, and you just followed his instructions. you showered, changed clothes and met him back downstairs. he had the TV ready and the sofa made up. “I’ll stay for a bit to see if it works,” he then added, “if you don’t mind?” you waved a hand at him, you didn’t care if he slept on your bed, and he settled down next to you on the sofa.

an old Hollywood movie starts to play, black and white, and you glance at Reid in suspicion

he tells you to just relax and watch it, and about halfway through you’re falling asleep to the sound of the famous Transatlantic accent, exaggerated sound effects and old time music

Reid is overjoyed that his idea worked, because this is what he does sometimes to bore his brain to sleep on those difficult nights

he finds himself falling asleep too, but gets up and turns out the lights and closes the curtains before locking your front door

and settling back down on the sofa next to your sleeping form

he tells himself he’ll run home in the morning and change before work

the next morning, you both wake up, late. with less than an hour to get to work, Reid sped home to shower, change and eat before picking you back up. despite being in fresh clothes, with hastily applied makeup on and carrying breakfast in your hands, you both looked awful. you were much brighter this morning though, as you laughed getting into the car. you arrived at work just in time, huffing and sorting out hair and clothes at your desk. Reid’s shirt was half tucked in and your hair was so damn messy. luckily, no one paid much attention to the vibe between you both that day. you two chatted all day about the ending of the film that neither of you actually watched, and you asked Reid to come over again soon and let you choose the movie.

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it wasn’t until a few months in that Reid overheard you talking to your mother on the phone, he loved the way you smiled and laughed when talking to her, and then how you said goodbye so softly. what he’d do to have you speak to him like that for a day. when you caught him staring, you threw your pen at him. you had desks right next to each other, so you often wheeled on over, just to talk to him. whenever you approached, he stopped whatever he was doing and gave his full attention to you. “so,” you began, leaning back in your chair, “seeing as you like listening to my phone calls with my mother,” he held back a smile, “how is your mother doing?” you asked. he handed you a piece of writing paper, and you raised an eyebrow at it. “she’s doing good, I was actually just writing my letter to her.” you scan over his words and smile. he’s telling her about his recent case (as much as he can without getting into trouble). you hand the letter back and watch him finish the rest over the course of the day. on the drive home he thinks of something else to add in before he sends it off tonight.

the first time Reid mentioned you to his mother in his letters, it was nothing but a mention of your first few days in the BAU

all of her replies consisted of asking about you, and if Spence liked you

Reid blew it off as you being work friends and nothing more, but a mother always knows.

now Reid asks you to add in a paragraph to every letter he writes, because his mother likes hearing from you (she thinks you’re smart, and very funny)

sometimes you receive random greeting cards from Reid’s mother through the post, and you reply to them with a smile on your face

you have all of her cards pinned up in the kitchen, Reid saw the collection once and marvelled at it

“oh yeah, your mother is lovely, I get one every so often.” you tell him, smiling at your growing collection. “I’m almost jealous.” Reid admits, with a smirk as you admire the cards. “she wants to meet you, you know. I kind of promised her I’d visit soon, and bring you with me.” your eyes met his, and he struggled to maintain eye contact. “why didn’t you say?” you lightly shoved him on the arm and booked tickets to see Reid’s mother that evening over takeaway and drinks.

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your visit to meet Reid’s mother went well, really well. you didn’t bat an eyelid when she said out of context things and made zero sense, you just smiled and listened. Reid had never adored you more than in that moment, sat across from his mother, listening to her rattle on. Reid was aware that he did the same sometimes, but you also listened to him when he was on one, and he loved you for it. you had the weekend in Nevada, and after visiting Reid’s mother, he suggested going to several different places. you spent all weekend going around Nevada, taking pictures for your parents and videos for your own memory. you’d booked adjoining rooms in the hotel after some careful consideration, but that didn’t stop you from walking straight into Reid’s room in your hotel robe asking to borrow toothpaste because there was apparently none in your bathroom. the truth was there was toothpaste in your bathroom, you just wanted to see Reid. it became a joke for you, and Reid was none the wiser, for a while.

Reid discovered when he was hanging out in your room that it was all a joke

after you had fell asleep watching a really bad movie, he went to turn the bathroom light off

only to find your own toothpaste sitting there on the bathroom sink, untouched

he realised what you’d done with a smirk and turned the bathroom light off

the next morning when you asked to borrow toothpaste again (purely to see him half-awake in bed) he said yes without hesitation and you let yourself into his room with a hidden smile

this was the first time he’d been part of an inside joke, and he loved it

you were in your short pyjamas, the heat of Nevada hadn’t been a joke, even with aircon in the rooms you found yourself hotter than usual. Reid watched as you entered his bathroom, taking the toothpaste, and returning to your bathroom. he smiled as you brushed your teeth, clueless to his newly acquired knowledge. he knew just what to do with it too. when you got back to Virginia, you showed your parents some moments from the trip and they asked some very thought provoking questions. “honey, this doctor guy seems lovely, are you sure it’s just a friendship?” your mother asked, watching you from across the kitchen. you smiled at her and nodded. “we’re good friends, and good work colleagues, I couldn’t ask for more.” you replied, to which your father nodded. “that’s all we can ask for, a good friend in your life.” your father then got up, walking over to you and your mother in the kitchen. he poured himself some coffee, thinking. you knew exactly what was coming. “but,” you started to chuckle, “are you sure this isn’t something more?” you nodded in silence, and he walked away, not believing a word you said. your mother eyed you up as you scrolled through the selfies of you and Spence in Nevada, and tutted. even she could see it, you were falling for this Spencer Reid character faster than you realised. still, she didn’t say anything, not yet at least. perhaps you’d come to the realisation once the trip became a memory and you thought about what a good time you had with your ‘work friend’. you giggled to yourself whenever you thought about the toothpaste stunts you’d pulled, thinking Spence was none the wiser, until he dropped you off home one evening after work and then a few minutes later knocked on your front door.  “Spence?” you asked, opening the front door to let him in. “hi, yeah, I actually meant to ask you something but it slipped my mind until just now.” he said, so casually. “I don’t have any toothpaste at home, could I borrow yours?” your cheeks betrayed you, as did your facial expression. Reid smiled devilishly at catching you out, and you brought your hands to your face. “you knew the whole time? oh why didn’t you say?!” you laughed weakly, as Reid watched you unravel in your hallway. you looked straight at him, eyes twinkling with mischief, but face so hot. Reid closed your front door, leaving his hand on the handle. “so?” he asked, eyes meeting yours. “can I borrow your toothpaste? or do I go home empty handed?” you finally got a hold on yourself, and pressed your lips together before facing him. “Spencer Reid, are you asking me for toothpaste, or something else?” you asked, taking steps towards him. “I think we both know the toothpaste isn’t what I’m here for.” he said it so calmly, looking at you with his beautiful, smart eyes. 

you shared your first kiss with the charming Dr. Reid that night, and things only got better from there

anything toothpaste related was immediately taken the wrong way by you two, whether on your own or with company

you both tried to hide the blossoming relationship, but soon the others in the BAU noticed all of those funny little things that happened between you and Spencer, and it became hard to hide it without feeling like you were suffocating one another. there would be serious discussions ahead, and you were already preparing to be transferred to another team, but you could do it if it meant staying with Spencer. something told you that Hotch may be able to keep things as they were for the time being, if you both behaved. and you’d both never do anything to disappoint Hotch, intentionally.

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#messyyythoughts #criminal minds #spencer reid #behavioural analysis unit #bau #dr reid #spencer reid headcanon #headcanon #reid #spencer #cm bau #spence #toothpaste #spencer reid x female reader #spencer reid x bau!reader #spencer reid x fem!reader

[messyyythoughts]

sands of zion, part 4.

fallout: new vegas Joshua Graham x female courier reader

author’s note: i am tipsy, have this xxx

summary: the Dead Horses want to move against the White Legs, but Joshua doesn’t expect the consequences...

warnings: war antics, the usual fallout: new vegas violence warning lol

••●••••●••••●••

since your conversation about Caesar, Joshua Graham had been watching you closely. you hadn’t mentioned or even inferred anything about Caesar since, treating the name like a fatal curse if spoken aloud. you seemed sober compared to how Joshua saw you before that conversation. where you’d take the time to talk with the Dead Horses each day and learn new words, now you stayed quiet and only spoke when spoken to. in Angel’s Cave you avoided others, and politely regarded Joshua when he was nearby. you spent days doing nothing, sleeping in your bed or walking up and down the river.

it was as if merely talking about Caesar had taken the very spirit from you. and Joshua hated it. every day he awoke hoping that his prayers had been answered to find you back to your old self, but each day that passed he found himself losing faith in his God. if ghosts were real, then he was watching one walk around his camp that looked remarkably like you. Follows-Chalk had made several attempts at communicating with you, but nothing could get your mind off of the evil that was Caesar waiting for you back in the Mojave. how his assassins hadn’t made it here yet you didn’t know, and it made you overly paranoid. they could be watching, waiting in the shadows, seeing how far you could get before they grabbed you. you’d refused to leave the camp for anything that wasn’t immediately life or death business, and it was beginning to irritate the Dead Horses. if they got that annoyed with you, they could show you the way home and you’d never bother them again. but, there was still the problem of the White Legs to deal with before any of the inhabitants of Zion would show you the way home, so you had to deal with it soon. one day, amidst your paranoia, you awoke to loud, shouting voices coming from outside of Angel’s Cave. you didn’t decipher any of the speech clearly at first, then you heard your name being thrown around. darting out of bed, you grabbed your rifle, forgoing your trench coat or outdoor clothes, and burst out into the sunlight in your sleeping clothes. Follows-Chalk was stood against a group of Dead Horses members, attempting to placate them as they stared at you with anger in their eyes. Joshua was nowhere to be seen. your eyes scanned the river before you lowered your rifle. “what is all of this about?” you asked quietly, though you feared you knew anyway. “we can talk about this in a calm way–” Follows-Chalk began, but the voices rose against him faster than he could handle. you picked out a few words, and understood that they were complaining of your idleness in the recent weeks, and the threat of the White Legs you were meant to be aiding Joshua in eliminating. your lips pressed together in mild embarrassment, but you really could care less, because they had no idea who Caesar was and what he was going to do to you the moment this war was over. “send her to the White Legs if she’s so scared of them! we are ready to fight them, why won’t Joshua Graham make the move?” one woman yelled, anger distorting her features. the funny thing was that all of these women had braided your hair, taught you words and shared their food with you a handful of times before. now you were their worst enemy, save the White Legs. Follows-Chalk was doing his best, but you knew he was no match for angry women. the men stood further back, shooting you disapproving glares. they’d seen you as one of them many times, but now you were no better than a child. you put a hand on Follows-Chalk’s arm, and his worried eyes met your dead ones. you nodded and he stepped back, closing his mouth. you faced the group, eyeing up each one. “if you want to move against the White Legs, I will speak to Joshua Graham.” your words only did the bare minimum to quiet their anger. at the rise of more voices, you held up a hand. “do not forget that it has been me who has rescued one of your children, defeated dozens of your enemies and fought for all of you with my life many times over.” your voice was raised, built on a foundation of disbelief at their words. “I will finish this war, but not if you disrespect me any further. am I clear?” they all went silent, watching you. “am I clear?” you yelled, snapping. the women’s heads dropped and they moved back. the men bristled at your tone. “be ready to fight with your lives, if you can do that.” you looked at each one of them in the eyes, and felt every one of them staring into your soul. Follows-Chalk followed you quietly into Angel’s Cave as you sighed and held in a desperate scream of frustration. you barely remembered the last few weeks, it had been a big blur of nonsense. you’d finally realised how soon you were going to face Caesar and lose your life in the process, and yes, you had others depending on you, but they didn’t know half of what your life had been. “do you know where Joshua is?” you asked Follows-Chalk, as you unpacked your belongings in preparation for the fight of your life, which would soon be overshadowed by the fight you’d bring to Caesar. “he is making final preparations for the attack, or at least that is what he told me.” you nodded, smoothing your hair away from your face and sighing heavily. “thank you for trying to save my reputation back there,” you said, “it wasn’t worth it but at least they’ll fight alongside me now.” Follows-Chalk was at your side, a worried look on his sweet face. his hand rested on your shoulder. “what troubles you, Courier? you have been a ghost since...” Follows-Chalk didn’t finish his sentence because footsteps approached. your heads both swivelled to meet the owner, and it was Joshua. he seemed surprised to see you up and awake, organising your things nonetheless. “we can talk later.” Follows-Chalk eyes searched yours for any hint of a smile, and even though you faked one, it didn’t fool him. he’d grown to know much about you personally since meeting you, and that smile wasn’t like the ones he’d seen from you before. he walked away, feeling something uneasy about you. ••●••••●••••●•• you filled Joshua in on the near-uprising against you, and he agreed that a move against the White Legs was looking favourable. you both stood at his desk, moving around it as you mapped out the White Legs territory from several scout reports. Joshua didn’t mention your behaviour recently, he was just satisfied that his prayers had been answered at last, and content to be enjoying your company once again. you went back and forth all evening, hypothesising the best formations and plans. you briefly paused the debates to make dinner and start inventory of all the weapons available to the Dead Horses. there was a lot, the scouts had done well, and Joshua had tracked down some pre-War technology that had been made useful by tinkering and experimenting. the sun went down, and Joshua gave the order to be ready to move out at first light. you continued planning, poking holes in each other’s ideas, before you settled on one of Joshua’s plans. you liked it, it had the least chance of failure, and it would get you into the White Legs camp where you could do the most damage. the necessary Dead Horse members were informed of the plan, and you both tried to get some sleep. Joshua resorted to studying his holy book at some point in the night, and you had started to clean your rifle and organise your trench coat with its many pockets. neither of you spoke as you knew it would only serve as a temporary distraction from the real thing that would be upon you in a few hours. as the sky began to change with the rising sun, you both got changed and checked weapons one last time. you were attempting to braid your hair out of the way but it proved hard with a scattered mind. you gave up and let it sit behind your shoulders, sat on your old camping bed, when Joshua’s voice broke the silence of Angel’s Cave for the first time in hours. “may I...?” your eyes landed on him, and he was stood at the end of your bed, looking at your hair. you nodded and took off your hat, smoothing your hair down. he knelt behind you, taking your hair in three sections and beginning the braid. it was the simplest one, but it kept your hair out of your face. you sat there, staring at the walls of the cave and imagining your death. would a White Leg grab and slash your throat open? a stray bullet? an explosive? a brutal fist fight to the death? you didn’t even notice that Joshua was long finished the braid, and was still knelt behind you, just waiting. he was probably thinking, too. you turned around, facing him. the sight of him on his knees might’ve elicited a different reaction from you in a different life, but now it just made you sad. deeply and utterly sad. he looked up at you, and you looked down at him. “we’re losing time.” you said softly, feeling a strange knot in your throat. “we are.” Joshua watched as you stood up, slinging your rifle over your shoulder and leaving the cave. he stood, watching after you.

••●••••●••••●••

the atmosphere in the camp was different to that in the cave. where there’d been a sober silence broken only by a few meaningless words, out here there was a flurry of activity. shouts and chants rang out, splashing water, weapons colliding. last minute training and conversations went down at the same time, each Dead Horse member preparing in their own individual way to face the enemy. the elders and healers were blessing the warriors with marks and paint on their bare skin. some even began blessing the weapons held by the warriors, bathed in early morning light. you went to walk past the elders, who you assumed held dislike for you since your outburst yesterday, but one woman stopped you. she held out her hands, covered in paint, and you took off your hat, kneeling down for her. she was short and unassuming in appearance, but one look at her face told you that she’d seen more than you’d ever comprehend. her fingers danced over your face, making a mask of a warrior, and blessing you. she took your rifle from your hand and painted that too. a feeling of something you couldn’t quite explain went over you, like hands running through your hair, or a mother’s touch. suddenly, the old woman smiled, before turning away. she left you there feeling bewildered, strangely empowered, and ready to face the White Legs.

Joshua Graham had been watching the scene unfold from the entrance to Angel’s Cave. for some time now he had believed you to be a blessing sent by his God, or a divine being who he just happened to cross paths with. whatever you may end up being, he would spend the rest of his existence eternally grateful for you. the way you had accepted the Dead Horse tribe as your own, adhering to their customs and way of life so quickly. it may not have been your first port of call when you realised you were trapped here, but you soon realised what had to be done to survive, and Joshua could appreciate that.

he joined you by the river, taking the sight of you in before speaking.

“I see you have been blessed, by one of our oldest healers no less.” he could barely contain his urge to smile at you from beneath the bandages. you looked so proud for a moment, watching your reflection in the water. then you came back to reality. your brilliant eyes met his, and you looked away again.

“she does me a great honour, I can almost… feel her with me, or someone watching over me. maybe your God has time to watch over both of us today.” Joshua’s chest tightened when you spoke of his God.

“if He is willing, everyone here shall be watched over, and protected.” Joshua wanted to say more, but stopped himself. he could not let these feelings interfere with his mind right before battle. you were staring at the river water once again, then you spoke quietly.

“if He is indeed willing, we will live to wash in this river tomorrow. we all will.”

••●••••●••••●••

Joshua gave a short speech worthy of a war chief to the Dead Horses. those who would not be fighting would stay here, hidden in Angel’s Cave until either the return or retreat of the warriors and scouts of the Dead Horses. you stood there in silence, pushing the image of Caesar out of your mind and instead replacing it with that of the White Legs. they were your problem today, not some tyrant in the Mojave, which you had no feasible way of returning to yet. it hadn’t occurred to you that once this was over, you’d either be dead, kidnapped or alive and on your way home to the Strip to face Caesar. it felt horrible to admit, but you were starting to think which of the three options had the best outcome…

Joshua Graham was at the front of the crowd, leading the Dead Horses into battle. they gave off war cries and other unfamiliar sounds as you all waded up the river, but once out of the camp, silence fell like a blanket across each and every one of them. you were bringing up the rear, you and Joshua had agreed that it was best you stayed split up, for many reasons.  you recalled the conversation in question, one that had happened amongst the planning and strategising.

“and if one of us goes down?” you raised an eyebrow and Joshua leaned back in his chair.

“then we stay separate for the battle, as long as we can. should one of us fall, the other will assume command.” he offered up. that seemed satisfactory to you.

“alright, I’ll take the rear, you be up front.” you said, to which his eyes barely widened, but you still caught it. “what’s wrong with that?” you asked, leaning over the paper which detailed your plans and formations. Joshua watched you lean, and resisted the urge to touch your hair that was loose over your shoulder.

“I am simply surprised that you would volunteer to take the rear, that is all.” he replied, after taking his eyes off of you. he could watch you pour over battle plans and maps while sat on his desk until the day he died.

“well, you are the war chief. what good are you in the back?” you'd smiled at him before sketching in your position in charcoal on the paper. he’d watched you, imagining you on the battlefield the next day, victorious.

now, as you watched the Dead Horses march determinedly towards the White Legs camp, you wondered if Joshua had wanted you up front with him. would it have looked fiercer? more intimidating? perhaps, but your plans had been finalised last night, and this was not the time to go changing them. you instead counted your steps and watched the feet in front of you to distract you. so far the march had gone uninterrupted, but you had some distance before White Leg territory began. then you’d be in trouble.

••●••••●••••●••

Joshua Graham halted the march as you reached your destination. just past this trail was the last known White Leg camp, as reported by Dead Horse scouts days ago. this was it. you quickly worked your way up front to speak to Joshua. he seemed ready for battle, for war.

“Joshua, we haven’t seen a single White Leg, something isn’t right.” you whispered to him, mouth right next to his ear. he did not react to your worrying statement, but instead loaded his pistol. “Joshua, did you hear me?” you demanded, slinging your rifle down your shoulder.

“we cannot back down now, even if every single living White Leg is waiting for us in that camp. we fight here and now, God willing.” Joshua replied, not looking you in the eyes. you put a desperate hand on his arm. he went still.

“are you sure we can win this? if every single one of them is in there, armed to the teeth? with the high ground?” Joshua’s cold blue eyes finally met yours. his gaze felt entirely alien to you now.

“you aren’t abandoning the fight before it’s even began, are you, Courier?” you hold his gaze, but let go of his arm.

“I’d follow you almost anywhere, Joshua, but if this becomes a bloodbath, I beg of you… order them to retreat.” Joshua’s eyes slipped away from yours and down to his pistol.

“if this becomes a bloodbath, we won’t be on the wrong side.” with that, he raised his pistol in the air, rallying the Dead Horses. you ran back to the rear, shaking your head and sweeping sand from your hat. you loaded your rifle up, and followed Joshua Graham and his Dead Horses into the White Legs camp.

and it was a bloodbath. on both sides.

the second the White Legs realised what was happening, they had the jump on you. the Dead Horses fought hard and some, to the death, to advance into the main camp and start taking out the entirety of the White Legs tribe. you took out any sneaky attackers who attempted to cut you off from behind, but soon there were so many even you were struggling to drop them all with your rifle. close combat became the norm within minutes, and you were facing off against strong, bloodthirsty warriors with insane melee weapons. you couldn’t ever imagine the gangs in the Mojave fashioning these creations up, they lacked the imagination for one, and the sheer insanity for two. though many of the weapons you went up against seemed impractical, the White Legs wielded them with skill and ferocity that you hadn’t seen before. you started questioning if you were ever going to survive this. why didn’t Joshua hang back and think things through? why did he insist on charging in without knowing the odds? because he was Legion once, just like Caesar, and the arrogance of the Legion never truly leaves you. he is the Burned Man, of course he couldn’t wait to finish this war—

a loud boom, the earth shaking, you flying briefly then colliding with rock. hands on your throat, your rifle snatched from your arms. the White Legs had set off grenades, killing some of their own, but killing more of yours. coughing and sputtering against the warrior who had you by the neck, you kicked out, but they forced your legs apart and had you pinned hard against the canyon wall. it wasn’t a bad way to go, dying in battle, at least you died doing something worthwhile in this world. a clean shot entered and exited the warrior’s head, and you dropped to the sand. you didn’t have to look up to see who pulled that off, because he was already coming. he had you up on your feet, leaning on him, rifle back in hands. his voice was all around you, but you knew he was there, somewhere. you found your feet, standing up and letting go of him, and took aim.

one down. two, then three. Joshua snuck off, taking out more White Legs from behind. the Dead Horses were fighting bravely, taking on two or three White Legs at a time. you helped the best you could, dropping the odd White Leg warrior here and there. but soon you were spotted, and on the move again. knives in hand, you took as many White Leg melee fights as you could get. Joshua was still shooting somewhere across the camp, his shots evenly timed and most likely hitting their mark each time. Follows-Chalk spotted you across the camp, and made his way over, taking down White Legs as he went. for how soft he could be, he was downright lethal in battle. as he neared you, you realised with a start that he was covered from head to toe in blood. his markings were barely visible beneath.

“is the blood yours?!” you demanded, open-mouthed in shock.

“never mine!” he answered simply, moving you aside and clubbing a White Leg in the back of the head. a scream from somewhere made you freeze, and you saw a Dead Horse warrior die to a White Leg who wore a scary helmet and wielded a power fist. Follows-Chalk returned to your side, panting but still raging. “Salt-Upon-Wounds, the White Leg leader. you must kill him, without him they will die!” you were about to protest when a White Leg charged you, and took you to the ground. Follows-Chalk had him off of you in seconds, swinging his club with a war cry. you rolled out of the way, letting Follows-Chalk kill the White Leg, and took aim again with your rifle but Salt-Upon-Wounds was gone. he was just there. you scanned the battlefield with your scope, bloodshed was happening everywhere, but where was their leader?

“he’s gone! where is he?” you shouted to Follows-Chalk, but he was gone too. the ever-changing nature of battle meant you were now alone, again. you skirted around skirmishes and takedowns, reaching the spot where you’d first laid eyes upon this Salt man, but all he’d left behind was blood and death. the grisly sight of the Dead Horses falling on the battlefield hurt your soul. how would they ever carry out their after-death rituals if they lay abandoned on a cursed battlefield? you ducked reflexively as a machete narrowly missed your neck. one shot to the chest from below and your attacker fell, dead. your eyes scanned the camp again, raging with the sounds of war. you were sure that you’d never forget the sounds, even after returning to the chaos of the Strip.

an arrow whizzed past, just missing your face, you ducked down and ran, taking shelter behind a boulder. you aimed your rifle over the boulder, and spotted the archers hidden further in the camp, high up in the cliffs. that was why your warriors were falling so quickly, archers were picking them off! you steadied yourself and took aim again, within minutes all of the archers you could spot were dead, bodies hanging limp on the cliffs with single bullet holes in their heads. the Dead Horses began to fight back harder, now unburdened by arrows, and out for revenge for fallen brothers and sisters. you’d lost sight of Joshua a while ago, and Salt-Upon-Wounds had disappeared. you joined up with whichever Dead Horse you came across in battle, your kill count for the day reaching double digits. soon, the camp became a much smaller battlefield as the White Legs started backing themselves into corners.

you helped a Dead Horse member overpower a White Leg wielding a club, firing off another shot as another White Leg charged at you. they were getting desperate. they were beginning to fray. the Dead Horses were making a comeback, using the White Legs own weapons against them now. your eyes focused in on a flash of white becoming visible from the back of the camp, then your heart dropped into your feet. Joshua Graham was fighting Salt-Upon-Wounds, one-on-one, hand-to-hand.

••●••••●••••●••

you took aim, but the two were moving too wildly for you to confidently pull the trigger. you didn’t dare ask Joshua’s God for any more help, so you rallied the Dead Horses to you, and those who came were ready. you took them towards the back of the camp, flattening any White Legs that stood in your way. Salt-Upon-Wounds saw you approaching, and you went down to one knee, rifle aimed. Salt-Upon-Wounds held Joshua Graham by the neck, and God knows where his trusty pistols had gone. Joshua’s clear blue eyes bored into Salt-Upon-Wounds’s. your finger went to pull the trigger again, but Joshua was now in your sights, forced to stand before Salt-Upon-Wounds like a human shield. you lowered your rifle slowly.

“call off your warriors, or Joshua Graham dies!” Salt-Upon-Wounds announced, the battlefield stood still for the first time. you made a sound that told the Dead Horses to stand down, and they reluctantly did. “good girl. lower your weapons, all of you!” the remaining Dead Horses gathered around you did not move, instead they watched you. they were waiting for your move, and they would follow.

“do as I do, or we lose.” you whispered to them in their dialect, and it was passed around quickly. you threw your beloved rifle to the sand, and your knives, and the Dead Horses followed. they did not protest, they did it silently, they did it with you. for you. Salt-Upon-Wounds began walking towards you, still holding Joshua captive in his grip, a power fist on his free hand, already shiny with blood.

“you, outgirl, listen to me. I take Joshua Graham’s life, then the Dead Horses. then you will be for me, but not for kill.” Joshua’s eyes hardened but one look from you told him to not respond. his job was to focus on surviving Salt-Upon-Wounds right now.

“why not kill me?” you asked, lowering your hands and taking a step forwards. Salt-Upon-Wounds tightened his grip on Joshua. “do you know who I am, Salt-Upon-Wounds?” you let your hands rest on your belt. you could feel exactly what you needed.

“I see a outgirl who fights.” Salt-Upon-Wounds said after a moment, he was not big on talking, you realised.

“I am the Courier, I control the Strip in the Mojave and your leader, Caesar, wants me dead.” Salt-Upon-Wounds’s body tensed. “he is your leader, isn’t he?” Salt-Upon-Wounds threw Joshua to the sand, angry.

“Caesar… wants you. I give him you, and kill Joshua.” Salt-Upon-Wounds let Joshua’s shirt go, and raised the power fist. Joshua began to roll, you reached into your trusty belt, pulled out a small knife and launched it in Salt-Upon-Wounds’s direction. it landed in his face, he recoiled and stumbled backwards, yelling. you dove for Joshua, grabbing him and hauling him back towards the Dead Horses. the remaining White Legs watched in horror as Salt-Upon-Wounds was injured by an outsider. Follows-Chalk grabbed Joshua, but as you went to get up, you were dragged backwards.

you made fleeting eye contact with Follows-Chalk, then Joshua as you were flipped over by Salt-Upon-Wounds. the Dead Horses picked up their weapons as the remaining White Legs attacked. you saw the power fist coming, time slowed, Salt-Upon-Wounds pinned you down with his legs and yelled with pure rage as he brought the fist down. you reached up, twisting the small knife still embedded in his face. blood spurted out, showering you. you yanked the knife out, the shock gave you time to get it from under Salt-Upon-Wounds, but he was still bringing the power fist down.

you felt the dull heavy impact on your hand first. then the pain of your hand bones being shattered to pieces took over. your entire arm was throbbing from the impact. you were screaming but you couldn’t hear it. Salt-Upon-Wounds revelled in your pain, and raised the fist again. you clutched the small knife in the other hand, panting, tears forming in your eyes. he roared from above you, bringing the fist down in one big overhead swing. you whipped your good hand quick, and the knife flew. it skimmed the power fist and landed between Salt-Upon-Wounds’s eyes.

you were crying as Salt-Upon-Wounds’s stiff body went limp, the weight of the power fist dictating his fall. the power fist met the side of your head as you desperately tried to escape from under the now dead weight, and you were out cold.

••●••••●••••●••

Joshua stopped believing in his God right then and there. he was already up on one knee, but Follows-Chalk, fuelled by the fear of the power fist caving your face in, threw Salt-Upon-Wounds’s corpse off of you. the side of your face was open, blood pouring out. Follows-Chalk had his arms under you already, lifting you up and calling out for a healer. the surviving Dead Horses surrounded you, reaching out and touching your bare skin with their hands. a sign of respect, a collective hope that you would survive this gruesome injury and live to recount the battle around a campfire full of Dead Horse children, reunited with their families. Joshua’s mind was making his body move, but he had absolutely no awareness of it. it was as if someone else was taking charge of him physically as he worried about you.

Follows-Chalk sent any remaining Dead Horse scouts forward to call for the healers, the warriors remained with you, escorting those who had survived the battle back to the Dead Horse camp. Joshua walked in step with Follows-Chalk, eyes never leaving your body. he offered to take you from Follows-Chalk several times on the march home, but he refused, determined to get you home alive. healers came rushing up the river, war-torn bloodied scouts in tow. the old woman was there, stood in the river, a serious look on her face.

Follows-Chalk set you down in the river, holding you there so the old woman could examine you. she spoke harshly to her other healers in Dead Horse dialect, Joshua Graham listened but for the first time, he couldn’t translate the words in his head. the old woman bent down in the river, and her words seemed to move the water.

“the sky, the earth… we beg of you, as the blood of ours joins you, return her to us.” the other healers repeated the words, muttering under their breath, eyes closed. the old woman cupped her hands, pouring water over your open head wound. Joshua went to his knees watching the old healer work. the river welcomed him, he let it soak him through. Follows-Chalk also dropped to his knees gently in the river, copying the prayers of the healers.

soon, every Dead Horse member present was on their knees, praying and begging the land and sky to not take you from them. Joshua clasped his hands, rattling off one last prayer to his God. then, as the old woman’s worn hands touched your cold ones, a jolt of something went through you. all you really remembered was the hot blood streaming down your face, tainting your vision red. now you looked up and saw clear blue skies, white dancing clouds and felt the hold of the river all around you.

the old woman rejoiced as your eyes flickered open, everyone was relieved, thanking their ancestors’ spirits and the land and the sky for not taking you. mercy had been granted today, but it would likely not be granted again. Joshua slowly moved towards you, the river pulling him. he took you from the old healer’s hold, and sat you up out of the river. you looked around, surprised at being back in camp. hadn’t you just been facing Salt-Upon-Wounds...?

without another word, Joshua stood, carrying you up the river, and into the safety of Angel’s Cave. the healers did not use the same medicine that you were so used to in the Mojave, but Joshua was familiar with the basics. now that he had you alive, he intended to keep you that way. he carried you to his camp bed, carefully setting you down. he lit the campfire, taking off your wet clothes with as much dignity he could give you. he covered you in furs, then as your eyes danced in and out of consciousness, began stitching up the gash on your head. he knew it wouldn’t beat a surgeon’s steady hand and some anaesthetic, but it was better to close the wound rather than let it become infected.

he worked for hours, having to stop his hands from shaking each time you winced or moved your head away. he’d unravelled the bandages from his hands, leaving them exposed to the open air. he told himself that the constant tingle that soon felt like he was burning all over again, was nothing compared to this open wound on your head. you probably had one Hell of a headache too. he could really only pray that your brain had remained unscathed. he then carefully began to wrap your broken hand, though you had no real feeling down there and barely reacted.

Follows-Chalk, now clean of his enemies’ blood, came to see how you were getting on. Joshua had just about managed to finish the stitching to your head, if he ever forgot the sight of it, he’d be grateful. Follows-Chalk had the healers gather all of the herbs that could possibly help and brought them into the cave, Joshua had other ideas. he knew you’d found old world medicines in the Mojave, and often made more when out scouting for the Dead Horses. he told Follows-Chalk to search your bag, and he found the stash of Stimpacks.

Joshua hadn’t seen you use these in his presence. perhaps because you were trying not to invoke feelings of despair in him that no medicine would relieve his pain or mend his burns. Follows-Chalk, however, had seen you use these from time to time. admittedly, not often, but he knew how they worked.

“you push it into the skin,” he told Joshua, as you lay there, eyes closed and breathing shallow. “I think.” he added, absolving himself of any responsibility should this go wrong.

“I… I’ve seen this before, but rarely used them.” Joshua admitted. Follows-Chalk stared at the Stimpacks. another strange thing from beyond Zion.

“should we not use them?” Follows-Chalk asked, eyes lingering on your stitches.

“they’d help her…” Joshua began, when you opened your eyes and reached for the Stimpacks yourself. the two watched as you took one, jabbed it into your side, then removed it.

“done.” you sighed, handing it back to Follows-Chalk. “Follows, you’ve seen me use those before, don’t be scared of them.” you rolled onto your back and went to reach up to feel your stitches. Joshua’s hand caught your good hand and placed it back down to your side.

“I am no doctor, but we better leave those alone.” he said, thinking about how the stitches would turn out when they healed. if they healed. Follows-Chalk seemed to agree with the way he eyed up the stitches uneasily.

“there are no doctors left anymore anyway.” you mumbled, closing your eyes and rolling over to sleep. Joshua pulled the furs over you and stood up, clearing away his impromptu stitching kit. Follows-Chalk looked at you for a moment longer before standing, and approaching Joshua.

“Joshua Graham, I must ask you something.” Joshua paused, then turned to face Follows.

“what is it?” he asked, curious as to what Follows-Chalk could possibly have to ask him.

“when the Courier is recovered, I should be the one to take her back to the Mojave. do you think the same?” Follows-Chalk asked. Joshua was not expecting this question so he stalled for time by organising the medical inventory for a moment.

“I think that when the Courier leaves us, she should go alone once she reaches the Mojave.” Joshua said, giving Follows-Chalk a look. Follows-Chalk nodded, but in his head, he did not agree in the slightest. “she fell into our lives, and she has the right to walk back out as she arrived... alone.” Joshua knew he was lying to himself too, not just to Follows-Chalk. Joshua prayed for nothing more than to accompany you back to the Mojave and see how you live your life, but there was the not so small problem of the Legion, and your life did not have space for him… who knew who you had waiting for your safe return back on the Strip?

••●••••●••••●••

when you woke up, you had such a headache it made you sensitive to light and noise like some sort of mutated wasteland creature. Joshua had been asleep by the fire next to your camp bed, and when you sat up, holding your head, he came back to life. he brought you fresh water, handed you Stimpacks, ordered stacks of medicinal herbs from the healers. Follows-Chalk was in charge of the recovery of the fallen Dead Horses from the battle, so you didn’t see him for some time. you spent days in Angel’s Cave recovering, even then you weren’t sure you’d be fit to make the gruelling journey back to the Mojave anytime soon. your head hurt and your hand was still useless. Joshua felt both joy and despair at your predicament. he knew that you needed to get back to the Mojave soon, with Caesar and his Legion becoming an increasingly worrying problem, but when Joshua watched you sleep he saw your pained expression and knew you were in no fit state to travel. you barely moved your broken hand, he worried that it was beyond saving some days.

Follows-Chalk was surprised to see you still on the camp bed, huddled under the furs, stuck somewhere between heavy sleep and being consciously aware of the world. Joshua tried his hardest to get you to talk, drink water or even sit up, but each day you refused and fell back into a fitful sleep. it wasn’t until one night that Joshua finally found the strength to wake you. it had been a slow day, you’d tossed and turned and had bad dreams. the night was cold, cool. Joshua and Follows-Chalk took it in turns sitting with you, but you did not improve. Follows-Chalk left the cave to retrieve more bodies from the battlefield and transport them for proper burial with the other Dead Horse members, leaving Joshua on the night shift. at first, you were just whimpering in your sleep, Joshua had grown used to the sound, as much as it scared him. then you started to move. you jerked and shivered, the whimpering turned into incoherent words. Joshua shut his holy book and sat next to you, watching your face contort in your sleep. all of a sudden you were crying, repeating words over and over. Joshua couldn’t stand to watch, he reached out, a hand on your shoulder, but you didn’t wake. something had you stuck deep in your mind.

after several unsuccessful attempts to rouse you from sleep, Joshua pulled the furs away, his hands on your arms. he turned you onto your back, repeating your name over and over. you didn’t come out of sleep. he started to wonder if it was a seizure, or if he was about to lose you. he didn’t stop trying to wake you, and after he shook you by the shoulders, your eyes flew open and you sat up, gasping. relieved you weren’t dead, Joshua’s hands fell from you and he said a prayer. you threw the furs from your legs and checked that this was real, that this wasn’t a dream that turned into a nightmare. you’d had so many these past few days, unable to escape them. they bombarded you each time you closed your eyes. your eyes landed on Joshua praying and you began to worry that this was yet another dream.

“Joshua, Joshua, is this real?” you grabbed him by the face, leaning right into him. his clear blue eyes met yours, and his hands settled onto yours.

“this is real.” he took your trembling hands into his bandaged ones and held them tight. “I am real, you are real, we are real, we are here.” he told you, and you moved off the bed to be closer to him. he was real, thank the Lord. you ran your hands over the bandages and let the feel of them bring you back to the present.

“we… are real.” you decided, nodding as your hands went back to his face. “you are real, I am real.” Joshua nodded back, and you let your hands trail to his neck, then around him. he let you do it, just happy to be there. you had him in your arms, and he felt real and you felt real and you were finally free of the endless cycle of nightmares. Joshua’s arms then encircled you and you melted into him. your eyes closed but you did not slip back into the land of nightmares and horrors. you stayed there with him, safe.

“are you okay?” he asked, not pulling away.

“if you’re here… I think I am.” you replied, after thinking for a moment. words seemed to elude you sometimes, but it felt even worse now, since the battle.

“I will stay here then, with you.” Joshua said quietly, and you sighed in relief. you both sat like that for a moment, until Joshua’s arms managed to lift you into his lap and have you tucked in his chest. you watched the roaring fire behind, letting it soothe you back to sleep. when Joshua felt you go heavy, he lifted you up back into the camp bed, but climbed in with you. he removed his heavy SWAT vest, and his boots. in just his trousers he held you there in the single camp bed, furs covering you both, and prayed that your mind would heal as well as your stitches had.

••●••••●••••●••

messyyythoughts © 2023 do not translate without my permission, give credit if you repost, support always welcomed <3

#fallout #fallout new vegas #fallout joshua graham #messyyythoughts #fallout new vegas honest hearts #zion #joshua graham #courier six #female courier #Female Courier x Joshua Graham #sands of zion #part four #fnv

[messyyythoughts]

the sands of Zion, part 1.

fallout: new vegas Joshua Graham x female courier reader

author’s note: OBVIOUSLY WILL HAVE SPOILERS FOR FALLOUT: NEW VEGAS, HONEST HEARTS DLC! summary: you need more time to think, being the decider of the fate of the Mojave and the Strip, and what’s one way to get more time? run away! you assist a small caravan to New Canaan, and everything is going smooth, until you enter Zion. warnings: typical fallout nv violence, what did you expect? ••●••••●••••●••

being the infamous Courier of the Mojave Desert was not something you often enjoyed. it came with more challenges than rewards, and caused more mess in your life than ever before. you wished you could remember back to when you weren’t holding this stupid platinum chip, that pretty much made you the sole deciding party in the fate and future of New Vegas. it felt as if the entire Mojave Desert was holding its breath in anticipation of your decision. well, you weren’t going to make that decision, at least not yet. you weren’t ready, you didn’t think you’d ever be ready, but a small part of you was pushing you to make that final decision soon. you had told yourself that this excursion to New Canaan was the last thing you did before getting your hands truly dirty with the dust and sweat of the Mojave. even as you met with Jed and sorted out your affairs before leaving, your mind was barking at you to turn around and sort out New Vegas first. but, you persisted, and found yourself on the road with no chance at turning back until the return journey. it was a good few weeks, there had been a few close calls but you had all banded together and protected one another admirably. late night campfires and early morning hikes created an unspoken bond within the group, and you found yourself enjoying it. you didn’t enjoy many things these days, being the person you were, so it was actually nice to forget temporarily about the stress and responsibility of New Vegas. it seemed as if reaching New Canaan was going to be achieved, much to Jed’s satisfaction, as the caravan descended into a canyon of red and orange rock, and dust. you had mistaken it for sand at first, a lingering reminder of your business back in the Mojave. with a sigh, you were the last one out of the cave, and fell behind to shake numerous amounts of rocks from your well worn leather boots. just as you had comfortably slipped the boot back on, shots rang out up ahead, and you heard Jed call out. you whipped your rifle from your back, looking down the sights, and seeing what could only be described as a tribal up on the cliffs raining gunfire down on the caravan up ahead. settling behind a rock in a crouched position, you aimed, and took down at least three before they realised where you were hiding. much to your annoyance and horror, they scrambled across and down the cliffs towards you, gaining ground steadily. you took down the rest, but one had slipped your sight, and scaled down the cliff to land behind you, landing a blow to your head and sending you sprawling forwards to the dust, or sand. your rifle clattered out of reach, setting your nerves on edge, as you only had a few other weapons on your person. the tribal was shouting, and you knew that it was not a language you had encountered before. the Mojave shared its collection of people who had their own dialects and accents, but this was entirely alien to you. a struggle ensued, with you pinned to the dust, and the tribal on top, fighting to get another blow to your head. you were too stubborn to let that happen, and too angry to think straight, so your adrenaline fuelled strength overpowered that of the tribal and you slammed them into the rock. they were shocked, but you didn’t give them time to come around, you landed several perfect blows to their face and threw them back to the dust, switching to your booted foot. precise kicks landed on the tribal’s back and ribs, and eventually they went still. you snatched your rifle up, and put one well aimed bullet in between the tribal member’s eyes for good measure. you happened to have first hand experience with surviving ambushes and shots to the head, so you did another to make sure. having narrowly escaped with your life, and not much else, you surveyed the damage done by the tribespeople. every single member of the original caravan was dead, they lay in the orange dust with bullet holes, and there was no saving any of them. with a heavy heart, you dragged their bodies out of view and took what you could scavenge from them. you went to walk back through the cave, and turned to your Pip Boy, only to see that the screen was dark. you gave it a few knocks to check it hadn’t just randomly turned off, and then sank to your knees when you realised it was truly busted. you let out a steady exhale, and stood back up, walking past the bodies of your caravan members, and crossing a rickety wooden bridge. still looking at your Pip Boy in utter dismay, you failed to notice a lone tribal about to take a shot at you, but before they could, another tribal took them out. you raised your rifle, steadying the scope, but saw that the surviving tribal had their hands up in surrender. you slowly watched them approach the end of the bridge, calling out to you. your gut said it was okay to lower the rifle, so you did, slowly. “hoo! that was close, you should be more careful.” that was your introduction to Follows-Chalk, a young member of the Dead Horses tribe in Zion, and a scout. it took some talking, but he had somehow convinced you to join him at his camp, and to meet his leader. he did not speak his leader’s name, which both intrigued and terrified you, but you had to assume there was a reason behind it. you exchanged conversation with Follows-Chalk as you went, listening to his advice, and warnings, of how to survive in Zion. nothing he said, however, could have prepared you for meeting his leader. ••●••••●••••●•• after reluctantly making polite and staggered conversation with the Dead Horse members, Follows-Chalk guided you into what he called Angels Cave. he did not take you all of the way inside, instead he waved you on all on your lonesome. with your rifle over your shoulder, you cautiously walked on, keeping an ear out for anyone up ahead. only one sound found your ears. the repetitive noise of guns being loaded. as you rounded the corner and entered the cavern, not a single thing on this scorched, God forsaken hell hole of an earth could have prepared you for the sight you faced. a man covered in bandages, wearing a white shirt and an old world police SWAT vest was sat at a table, meticulously inspecting .45 automatic pistols. the individual had blue eyes, not a striking blue, but a clear blue. it then occurred to you just who this might be. you’d heard the tales, the stories, the myths. the whispered warnings of what happened if you failed the Legion had been passed around for years. the reported NCR sniper shots of this man had been in the dozens, yet they had all been false. his only failure his entire life had been Hoover Dam, and that both amazed and sickened you. it was him who spoke first, to your surprise. you hadn’t expected him to give up any words without first pressuring you into speaking a few. “we should’ve given you a better welcome on your first visit to Zion, but from what I hear the White Legs beat us to it.” that voice. you could hear it for a hundred times and it would still send shivers right through you like you were made of glass. you hadn’t expected the voice of such a feared and legendary man to be so... bedroom like? there was simply no other explanation for it. “White Legs seem to be the only visitors we have these days, and I wouldn’t have expected anyone from the Mojave to come looking for us.” finally, he took you in. “and you’re a courier, no less.” that he was right about. “not the one I was expecting, but I suppose he wouldn’t have come with a caravan.” he added, a bit more solemn. you realised with a great crushing weight that he was giving you time to talk yourself. what was the best course of action here? explain yourself, greet him casually, pretend you had no idea who he was? surely he’d have some inclination that a visitor from the Mojave would know about him, so it wasn’t smart to lie. “I am a courier, but not the one you were expecting?” you finally said, trying not to sound as unsure as you felt inside. “I was expecting someone from Caesar’s Legion, he has sent them before. but, you don’t appear to be affiliated with them. are you?” he asked the question like it was a test, and you supposed it was. “I have no interest in Caesar unless it involves expelling him from New Vegas. he’s causing a lot of problems, as it would happen.” your heart was beating faster than you liked it, your body betraying your fear response. this man could put a bullet right between your eyes from where he was sat, and that would be the end of your second life. but, something told you it would be against his best interests to suddenly shoot you. he had the air of someone who held importance here in the Dead Horses camp, and you had an idea of why. Follows-Chalk had filled you in on the recent events in Zion with the White Legs being hostile and attacking the other tribes in raider fashion, and had informed you unknowingly that Joshua Graham was their acting war chief. “I see he continues to make enemies wherever he goes.” ‘well, you got that right, Joshua.’ you thought silently. you had to fight the growing urge to outright ask about the history Joshua and Caesar shared, what had really transpired after Hoover Dam, but held your tongue. that wasn’t important, you needed a way out of here and back to New Vegas, the Mojave, as soon as humanly possible. “I hate to be this way, but I’ve got some urgent business back in New Vegas. if someone could be kind enough to show me the way back, I’d be grateful, and I can compensate them.” Joshua did not pause for a moment in his process of checking his pistols. he simply gave you a single look before his eyes went back to what his hands were doing. “Daniel, another New Canaanite, has made many maps of the region. the bad news is that we can’t help you right now, not with everything that’s going on.” your heart sank, and you waited for the explanation as to why not a single soul in this vast place could show you to an exit that would bring you back to New Vegas. “even though you made your way in, there is no easy way back. without a map, you’ll die in the wilderness.” you glanced at your dead Pip Boy and realised he was right. even chancing the long journey back with the help of your Pip Boy would see you taking longer than if you had a guide, or a proper map of the area. you let your bag drop to the cave floor, and took off your worn brown cowboy hat. Joshua’s eyes flitted back to you, you had his attention. “I’m assuming that the White Legs tribe are the ones causing you trouble here in Zion, yes?” you asked, approaching Joshua’s table as you spoke. “well, seeing as you aren’t going to outright ask for my help, I’ll offer it. I will do what you need me to do in order to resolve the situation and get some assistance in returning to New Vegas. do we have a deal?” you were on the opposite side of the table to Joshua, palms flat and resting. Joshua’s eyes were fixed on your scarred hands, which you quickly pulled off of the table. “you are a good neighbour to us.” he said, nodding in agreement to your offer. a deal had been struck, and you were about to do anything to finish your end and get the hell out of here. ••●••••●••••●•• it had been a week of pure hell. there was no other way to accurately describe it. you’d trekked all over Zion on Joshua’s orders, with the occasional company of Follows-Chalk, to retrieve this and carry that. you’d met with Daniel and the Sorrows more times than you could count, too. your home base became the Dead Horses camp, but you were also welcome to sleep at the Sorrows camp if need be. you rarely spoke to Joshua for longer than a few minutes each evening to debrief him and receive your orders for the following day. it became a very professional relationship, partly because you were still wary of him, and partly because he was unsure how to approach you. you became close with Follows-Chalk, he often showed you shortcuts and hiding places around Zion. you taught each other tricks of survival each day, and when you weren’t together, you honestly missed his company. whenever you returned to the Dead Horses camp he welcomed you with a friendly hug, and you even took off your hat to talk to him, a rare gesture on your part. you didn’t even take your hat off to talk to Joshua, which he had noticed one evening when you finally emerged from the Eastern Virgin river, carrying a bag of things he had requested that you find. Follows-Chalk walked straight on over to you, and you stuffed your hat in your hand to welcome his hug. you neatly perched the hat back on your head, and filled Follows-Chalk in on your day. Joshua came to the conclusion that he hadn’t made much of an effort in getting to know you, and that was entirely his fault. truth be told, he was thinking about you sometimes when you were out in Zion, carrying out his orders. since he’d laid eyes on you, he knew you were someone special. maybe it was the way you looked, or your presence, or even your voice. that voice could talk to him for hours and he’d never tire of it, he thought. this thought often applied when you were exchanging stories with Dead Horse members around a campfire later into the evening, using Follows-Chalk as a translator. you were doing this very thing tonight, in front of Joshua. after you had finished telling this story, and left the members in entertained amazement, Joshua found a suitable spot next to you by the campfire and opened his book. you glanced over, and then he finally heard that voice speaking to him. “not that I’m being purposefully ignorant, but what exactly is that?” you asked, resting on one elbow on your side to escape the chatter of the others. you were completely facing him, attention drawn to his book. Joshua closed the book and placed it down in front of you. it read ‘The Book of Mormon’ on the battered leather cover, and you reached out to trace the lettering, the original colour long faded from use. “but what does it say inside?” you asked, to which Joshua flipped open the first few pages until it landed on one that was well thumbed. he obviously liked this one a lot. “will you read it to me? my eyes are too tired to focus on those tiny letters.” you said this with a warm smile, and surprise went across his face, but luckily you didn’t see it. you rested your head on your arm, and waited for him to start reading it. he did, and carried on at your request. he got through several pages until the campfire light became too low to see the words properly, and you thanked him for sharing his book with you. it was something simple, but it made his chest feel different, and it wasn’t the burns this time. as you settled into your sleeping bag for the remainder of the night, he found a question lingering on his tongue, but swallowed it instead. that was too forward of him, he’d only been in your company for a week, no less. if you happened to be here longer, maybe he would ask his question then. ••●••••●••••●•• despite the first week being hell, you carried on. you set a brutal pace, working like a dog, day and night. you reported everything to Joshua and only took breaks to hydrate or sleep. not a single person complained of your work, so you took it as you were doing a good job. that was until you were ambushed with Follows-Chalk, and you felt guiltier than ever before. you’d just finished looting an old world cabin, in the middle of nowhere, but obviously Follows-Chalk knew where you were. you had a bag full of things needed for the Dead Horses and Sorrows, and you were almost home, when Follows-Chalk went still and silent. you ceased all movement and your talking, reaching to your back for your rifle. Joshua had actually inspected it recently and given it a free once over. you found that it worked very well now, even better than before. Follows-Chalk went to signal something to you when a shot rang out, and blood splattered across your face. you grabbed Follows-Chalk, throwing him beneath you behind some shrubs, and saw a clean bullet wound through the shoulder. “it’s gone through the shoulder, but don’t move. I’ll get us out of here.” you had your rifle in hand, and spotted who had shot at you. White Legs, camping up in the cliffs, waiting. they’d been getting bolder and more violent with each encounter, it felt like, and the other Dead Horses scout reports seemed to feel the same. you started picking them off, one by one, as they revealed themselves. Follows-Chalk covered you from behind, but the White Legs had positioned themselves poorly in one concentrated mass, supposedly for a large ambush once you two had walked underneath them. you were in the process of reloading when a few lone White Legs started cropping up, having scaled down the cliffs to search for you and Follows-Chalk. you crawled deeper into the bushes, covering Follows-Chalk with your body in case they started firing, but they walked straight past. you were about to whisper something to Follows-Chalk when the bushes shook and a White Legs grabbed you from behind, hauling you out of the shrubbery and into the open. there were three of them remaining, and one of you. your rifle was still in the bushes, and with Follows-Chalk’s injury he wasn’t in any state to be using a rifle accurately. knowing this, you made an effort to escape the hold of the White Legs member who had a tight hold of your hair and the back of your neck. you managed to hook one of you legs behind theirs, and sent them sprawling across the dust. in the confusion, you charged at the other two, taking one down with you and then flipping them on top of you to use them as a human shield. it worked, as the other White Legs open fired at you. blood splattered and leaked all over you from the bullet holes, and the heat making the blood run quicker. that familiar tang of metal filled your senses, and you felt that switch into fight or flight finally happen. fight was obviously the chosen mode. you kicked the body of the White Leg member away, and tackled the next one who held the gun. you wrestled for control, and you were pointing the barrel to the sky when the White Leg fired several times and ran out of bullets. you wrenched the empty gun free, threw it aside and resorted to beating the White Leg down with your fists, sending small splatters of blood across the dust, or sand (you still hadn’t decided if this stuff was dust or sand yet). you felt rough hands haul you up, and you made hard contact with the ground, facing the White Leg who had found you in the bushes. they went to bash your head in with a club, but you rolled, and they missed. on your knees, you dug your small knife from your boot and plunged it into the White Legs torso. they stumbled, dropping the club, which you grabbed and swung upwards with. it made a sickeningly loud crack upon contact, and knocked them out cold. they might’ve died on impact or they might die later from head trauma, you didn’t have time to stop and check. you retrieved your knife, and held the club steady in your other hand. blood that wasn’t yours ran down your face, sticky and hot. the remaining alive White Legs member was writhing on the ground in pain. you had knocked out several of their teeth, after all. you sheathed the knife in your boot, and raised the club, bringing it down once with a crack and watching the blood pour from the broken nose it left behind. with all three White Legs dealt with, you abandoned the club, and ran back to the bushes where Follows-Chalk was hidden. you slung your rifle over your back, and helped him up, but the blood he was losing was worrying you. he leaned on your for support at first, but by the time you had reached the entrance to the Eastern Virgin river, he had completely passed out. your heart was loud in your ears like the rush of your feet in the river that disturbed the still nighttime air. you carried him determinedly all the way, cursing the White Legs as you went. the water seemed to be fighting against you as you waded, but when you rounded the corner and saw the camp alight with campfires and burning torches, you called out. several Dead Horses members came rushing to you, and took Follows-Chalk out of your arms. there wasn’t much else you could do but stand there in the river, watching as they carried him inside the cave in a flurry of shouts and cries. you removed your hat, and before you could stop yourself, fell to your knees in utter guilt and shame. he’d been hurt because he was with you. if he was on his own, or here in camp, he might’ve lived through tonight unharmed. water was soaking your lower half, but you couldn’t find a reason to care. something that surprised you was the tears that came to your eyes, you wiped them away but they kept coming. you hadn’t cried in a... very long time. even back in the Mojave there wasn’t time to cry, not even for a moment, but out here in the expanse of Zion, there seemed to be just a few moments where you let the tears fall. you looked up at the sound of water splashing, meaning footsteps, and saw Joshua approaching. you realised with a start that you had left the bag behind! you swore internally before going to get up and return to the scene of your crime. “are you alright?” Joshua reached you in the water as you stood, and you remembered the blood. “it isn’t mine, it belongs to a group of White Legs that ambushed us.” you cupped your hands in the cold water and splashed it onto your face, knowing that it wouldn’t do anything to wash it all away. your hat was lying abandoned in the water somewhere, probably about to float downriver. your body stilled as you lost all motivation to move. if Follows-Chalk died tonight, that was on you. Joshua took a few steps closer, and then bent down to you, dipping his bandaged hands into the water. not a single word could explain the feeling of his fingertips lifting your face to the moonlight, as he scrubbed the blood away. your eyes caught for a moment before you forced yours closed, shame filling your face. neither of you spoke words, there was just the sounds of the river around you that filled the heavy silence. sometimes your breathing got heavy as the adrenaline left your system, but Joshua never commented on it. he pulled his hands away from your face once it was clean, and damp with river water to cool you down. you hadn’t moved an inch as he’d held your face, a small part of you wished you had more blood and dirt for him to scrub away so he would stay a bit longer. “are you alright?” he asked again, not letting his earlier question go unanswered. “no, I’m not.” you answered truthfully. “I want to kill them all.” you said softly, almost like it was a dark, dirty secret. but he understood you completely, and sympathised with your mindset. “I... also left the bag behind.” you added, letting out a tired sigh. “will he be okay? the bullet went through, but the blood loss was...” Joshua offered you a hand and you both stood up in the river, water sloshing around your feet. “they will do everything they can for him. the bag isn’t a concern now, you both being safe is.” you nodded, looking around for your hat, and realising that it had definitely escaped downstream. “come to the cave, be by his side.” Joshua said, before letting go of your hand from his. you hadn’t even clocked that he’d been holding it since you’d stood up. “my hat went downstream, I’ll be right back.” you gave him a smile that hid your intentions as you started wading down the river to retrieve your hat, and then find the rest of those White Legs. ••●••••●••••●••

messyyythoughts © 2022 do not translate without my permission, give credit if you repost, support always welcomed <3

#fallout new vegas #fallout #obsidian entertainment #messyyythoughts #fallout nv companions #joshua graham #honest hearts dlc #fallout new vegas honest hearts #zion #fnv #fallout joshua graham #follows-chalk #dead horses #white legs #sorrows #female!reader #female courier x joshua graham #female courier #new vegas

[messyyythoughts]

guilt, part 4.

star wars: the bad batch Hunter x female reader

author’s note: I’m genuinely so sorry that it took SO LONG to get another part out! idk what happened to me. but thanks for sticking with me <3 summary: whoever was attacking you had left their mark, on you specifically. your condition is worsening, and the Bad Batch are running out of options. warnings: swearing, reader is NOT doing well and neither are the Bad Batch! oops :)

mando’a translations riduur - partner, spouse, husband, wife

part 1 part 2 part 3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Tech was worried.

Tech was never worried. Not like this. He’d seen grisly injuries in his time, but he’d never seen someone’s condition deteriorate so fast before. Not from a simple stab wound, anyway. It didn’t really add up, so Tech started running tests, unbeknownst to Hunter and the others. They were all far too stressed to be of any use to Tech right now. Tech was content with just himself for company, for the time being. The others had picked up on Tech’s odd discomfort whenever he glanced at you in Hunter’s bunk. Tech’s lack of word vomiting about your condition was making them all suspicious. Wrecker, on the other hand, was attempting to distract Omega but she was proving hard to distract, especially when you were laid up in the bunks and looked almost like a corpse. Still, she tried to keep her attention on Wrecker, as hard as that was, and tried to forget you were there. She kept telling herself that you’d wake up soon and be absolutely fine, just a bit too much blood lost, that was all. But, something inside of her bright mind was screaming at her to help, yet she just couldn’t indulge it. Hunter was silent. He’d been barking orders and pacing for the first few hours, then all of a sudden he realised that was getting you all nowhere. Echo had been hastily piloting the ship, searching for anything that was remotely like a medical facility, with Tech’s occasional assistance. The unprepared jump into hyperspace had messed with the navigation, and Echo was doing his best to do without it. The strange thing, though, was that the infamous Bad Batch had been in such worse situations before, either on their own or together, and they’d all acted as if it was fine because they trusted one another so deeply. They just knew by instinct that nothing could really go wrong for any of them, the were too good at their jobs. Yet, for some unknown reason, they didn’t trust themselves with looking after you. It wasn’t until Tech’s own tests came back that he finally saw the missing piece to the puzzle of your rapidly deteriorating condition. It was poison, the blades were finely laced with poison of some sort. He’d need a chemical breakdown of a sample to figure out exactly what had entered your system, and how it was hurting you, but he had a starting point. And that was better than nothing.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Hunter hated seeing you this way. He loved it when you were up and about, busy doing things, buzzing around the Havoc Marauder with Omega in tow. He didn’t like you when you were like this, out cold in the bunks, unresponsive to Tech’s voice, and running a dangerously high fever now. It had all set in so quickly in the last few hours that it made Hunter want to vanish, and take you away with him, so he could look after you all on his own. As much as he really appreciated the help from the others, Hunter’s instincts were pointing in another direction entirely. Tech, in all his wisdom, had set up and IV to keep you hydrated and somewhat stable, but even Tech could only do so much. Omega was nervous too, and she was a medical assistant for a brilliant Kaminoan. Those guys meant business, and what Hunter wouldn’t do for their help right now. If he could, he would order the others to wait on some distant planet whilst he piloted the ship straight to Kamino and exchanged himself for your care. He’d spend a hundred days in a Kaminoan facility if it meant you had a 1% chance of survival. Hunter was so deep in thought that he didn’t register Omega coming to his side, with her Bad Batch trooper in her fidgeting hands. Hunter was fixated on you, and only you. He’d sat by your side in the bunks constantly. He had been the one who placed you in his bunk, after Tech and Echo had seen to your arm. Wrecker had spent the last hour just wiping up blood from the floor, and there was more to go. It had dried now, but the entire ship smelled of it, even more so to Hunter’s heightened senses. It was nearly choking him, but he tried not to think about it.

“She’ll wake up,” Omega kept saying whenever she checked in on Hunter and you, “she’s got to.” .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Luckily, Omega was right. You stirred after twelve straight hours of being deeply asleep, and when your eyes finally wrenched themselves open, all you wanted to do was close them again. The lights of the ship were blindingly bright, they stabbed into your eyeballs and made them cry. The tears ran fast, and you turned your head, only to feel as if you’d been frozen into a cryo sleep for a hundred years. Every bone, muscle and nerve screamed with the slightest movement, touch, sense. Your voice was lost in the desert that had overtaken your throat and mouth. Maker, what you wouldn’t give for a drop of purified water right now– Omega was there, holding a flask to your lips. She slipped a hand under your head and lifted you towards the flask, your weak arms went to take it, but they felt as if they were on fire at the effort. You dropped them to your sides, and let Omega keep watering you. When you’d emptied that flask, Omega produced another one straight after, and held it to you. She sat there, patiently, as you drank and drank. The lights of the ship assaulted your eyes each second they were open, but you resisted the temptation to fall back asleep. “Thank you my darling.” You wheezed as Omega took the second flask away, now bone dry. She went to lift up a third, but your head flopped down to the pillow again. “Do you want me to get the others?” Omega whispered, as to not alert them. You half opened your eyes and tried to see Omega clearly, but your vision was all fuzzy and far away. It was like your eyes weren’t actually yours. “Sure, tell them to be quiet.” You croaked, turning onto your side that didn’t have a recent stab wound in it. Omega waved the others in, and you watched, through lazy eyes, as they came in. It was like a burst of energy, Hunter at the front, right by your side. Tech and Echo came bumbling in, and Wrecker last, very quietly with Omega in tow. Hunter pushed the stray hairs out of your face, and tried to look at you in your eyes. They were too messed up to look into, you thought, as he ran his hands over your face. You didn’t look right at all, not to any of them, and they knew that they needed to find help, real help. “May I speak to her?” Tech shuffled forward, kneeling down next to Hunter. “Just be very quiet, she’s not really here.” Omega warned, from behind Wrecker, who was as still as a statue. He really took the ‘no noise’ thing seriously from Omega. “I, uh, hope the painkillers are working. We stopped off for fuel and meds a few hours back, and I’ve done some tests in the meantime.” He pushed his goggles off of his eyes and looked at the floor, almost unable to deliver the news with Hunter right there next to him. His brother, his family. “I believe the daggers were laced with some sort of poison. What exactly it is, I am not sure. I’d need more equipment and time to decipher that, which we don’t have.” Your hand reached out for Tech’s face groggily, and he let you find his shoulder. “I’m... putting all of the meds we can use into you, until we find help, so just try to rest for now.” His hand awkwardly patted yours, and then he disappeared back into the ship. Hunter took his place, and held your hand in his, putting it to his forehead like he was in prayer. Echo came to see you, promising to fly the ship as fast as he could to the nearest planet with a good hospital, before giving you a gentle kiss on the forehead and leaving you alone. Wrecker asked Omega if he could say hello, if you’d remember it, if you’d be mad at him for talking to you. Omega had to join Wrecker, he was so worried, and Hunter encouraged Wrecker to talk to you. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help, I’m normally good at that.” Omega hugged Wrecker’s large arm, reminding him that she was there to support him. He wasn’t alone facing you, in this state, and Hunter was there too. “She knows you would’ve done everything to protect her. It was... my fault, I didn’t notice the attacker soon enough, and here we are.” Hunter told Wrecker with a sorrowfully low voice, holding onto your hand with a burning sense of regret and shame. He could’ve taken the hit, saved you from this pain, this poison. The others could definitely have handled it if it had been Hunter who was injured, but seeing you like this? It wasn’t right, not in the slightest. Wrecker and Omega slowly departed, Omega tugging the drooping form of Wrecker away. Wrecker wasn’t the brightest star in the sky, but he sure was the soppiest. It made him upset to see you in pain, so drained of energy. You weren’t the woman he knew, and that scared him. It scared him even more that there was just nothing he could really do apart from be there. He didn’t like that feeling. Now, it was just you and Hunter, not that you really noticed in your state, it was as if you were a shell of what you should be, but you were still clinging on, somehow. You were being forced by this poison to mock how you would look in death, and it was so unbelievably cruel, thought Hunter, that once you were better he’d track down whoever did this and make them pay in such unimaginably horrific ways. “I make a vow to you,” He began, quiet as whisper, “as someone I would be honoured and blessed to call my riduur.” He closed his eyes, “I vow to find whoever did this when you are recovered, and I will go to the edges of this galaxy, even if it means being apart from you, to bring revenge down on them.” Hunter never thought in his life that he’d be making a vow to someone he’d considered his riduur, partner in life, in order to take revenge out on their attacker. Maker forbid it became your murderer. There would be no force in the entire galaxy that would stop him, and he was fine with that. If he became a monster, so be it, he would make sure that this person never got away with this again. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. Echo was piloting the Havoc Marauder for hours straight after laying eyes on you. His face looked haunted, and he was. He could not believe how at the end of your tether you looked, and he was putting the ship into overdrive to find a planet with a damn doctor on it. Tech was helping every so often, chipping in with recommendations to get the speed up, avoid the longer hyperspace routes, take shortcuts. Echo was really risking the integrity of the ship’s engine with the way he was treating the thing, but no one was saying anything, not even Tech, the ship’s number one fan. Echo was losing hope, losing sleep, until a beep on the radar made him slam on the brakes and drop out of hyperspace. Wrecker and Tech launched themselves at the cockpit, staring at the glass, expecting something grand, something lifesaving, no less. And it was grand. Naboo, the planet of fucking Naboo, was sitting right in front of them. How they’d ended up here, Echo wasn’t entirely sure, but still, Echo’s heart leapt, and he slammed the ship into its fastest speed heading straight towards the beautiful planet with a dazed grin on his face. The others told Hunter the news, and he went limp with the shock of it, they’d only gone and stumbled across fucking Naboo! Tech took over and navigated the landing at the nearest hospital, before Wrecker scooped you up, wrapped in Hunter’s blanket, and ran out to the hospital. The rest of the Bad Batch followed suit once the ship had been safely landed as close to the hospital as they dared, and they watched as a team of doctors and nurses in classic Naboo finery took you away, behind the closed doors of the hospital. Omega couldn’t help but cry a little bit at seeing you go so quickly, and Wrecker had to pick her up and carry her away for a while. Though no one would ever admit it, it was hard living on the Havoc Marauder, it was constantly close quarters, and feelings were often canned up and released at a later time. Wrecker and Omega didn’t return for some time, supposedly letting off the steam they had built up, and even Echo said he was going for a walk when Tech proposed returning to the ship. It was as if your ghost haunted the Marauder, and not a single one of them wanted to go back onboard. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. The Bad Batch had remained outside the hospital, even after being asked to move the Marauder to a safe distance. The sky was painting itself as a sunset, and each member of the Bad Batch were waiting as patiently as they could for news of your condition. It wasn’t until the night sky had settled over Naboo that someone started walking towards the Bad Batch from the hospital. It was a nurse, admittedly a little on the young side, but clearly equipped with boundless knowledge from the way she spoke. In fact, Omega was right in pointing out that it was the same nurse who had first spotted the Bad Batch landing. She delivered some good news, and some bad news. “I am pleased to inform you that your friend is stable, but she is quite ill. We expect to run some initial tests tomorrow morning, but for the night we will assign a nurse to her in case she declines in condition again.” Echo did most of the talking, being all polite and charming, as he was. The nurse then turned to Tech, who was sitting against the Marauder, not paying much interest. “I hear it was you who kept your friend alive for so long, I really must commend you on your medical skills, sir.” Tech’s eyes nearly popped out of his goggles. He stood up, dusting himself off, and said his thank you to the nurse. She nodded before departing, but then turned around, her face in a downcast expression. “There is also the matter of payment for the treatment to be discussed with the doctor of the ward, whenever one of you is ready, of course. There is no rush, really, it’s just formalities. I bid you all a good night, and please rest assured knowing that your friend is in excellent hands.” The nurse returned to the hospital, having done her part. Omega asked the others if they could camp outside tonight, watch the night sky and hope that you recovered quickly. Wrecker and Echo said it was a brilliant idea, and started up the Marauder to go somewhere a bit less busy than a major hospital. Hunter was silent, thinking constantly about the sound the dagger had made when it sunk into your arm, the smell of blood and sour poison filling the air when he removed the blade. He should’ve known it was poison by how horrible it smelt, but he didn’t think, didn’t pick up on it at all. Maybe you wouldn’t be in such a dire condition if Hunter had been in the right frame of mind for once. Ever since that mountain, up in the trees, he has struggled to concentrate on anything but you. When he wakes up after a long flight, he looks for you first. Then, Omega and the others shortly after. Your scent is the very first one he can pick out from the ship, your laugh is better than anything else he’s ever heard, your voice is always easy to pick out above all others. He could sit and wait on you for hours, doing your every request just to see you smile, or even smirk at him. Even under the pressure of battle you were unavoidable. He couldn’t escape you. His every move had you in mind, were you safe, were you winning, were you looking at him? He realised after the mountain that he’d been gravitating towards you unknowingly, and had greedily seized at the chance to ‘teach’ you that day. The only thing he could think about cleary that night was ‘look at where my stupid ass has gotten me, and her’. You, alone in that hospital, not well enough to survive without the best medicine Naboo could provide. The last thing on Hunter’s mind was the cost, anything was worth saving you, he’d come to terms with that the second you passed out from the stab wound. Maker, he’d considered trading himself over to the strange Kaminoans if it meant you getting medical treatment. He wondered how that would’ve gone down now, if they hadn’t made it to Naboo in time, thanks to Echo’s mad piloting of the hyperspace routes and Tech’s quick calculations of whereabouts you would arrive in the galaxy after dropping out of hyperspace. Hunter told himself to thank the others for all of their endless work trying to save you, but the words died on his mind. He stared at the campfire Omega had constructed with Tech’s assistance, and Echo’s, and let it blind him into sleep. Or, what would’ve been sleep. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

messyyythoughts © 2021 do not translate without my permission, give credit if you repost, support always welcomed <3

#star wars the bad batch #star wars #tbb star wars #the bad batch #hunter x reader #hunter x you #tbb hunter #tbb omega #tbb tech #tbb wrecker #tbb echo #messyyythoughts #tracked part four #I APOLOGISE FOR THE WAIT #SORRY I GUESS #riduur #mandoa #hunter x female!reader #she/her/hers pronouns used #feminine pronouns #female!reader #clone force 99 #they call themselves the bad batch #the sad batch #injured!reader #sad hunter #tracked #guilt #part 4

[messyyythoughts]

Dr. Strange’s apprentice.

marvel Stephen Strange + gender neutral apprentice reader

this post should read as reader being gender neutral and of a teen age, please message me if it doesn’t and I will make necessary amends! author’s note: I tried this idea out after seeing Spider-Man: No Way Home and then didn’t like it so I forgot about it, but seeing Multiverse of Madness kind of made me think about it again... so here it is. I’d recommend that you have watched both films (and definitely Avengers: Endgame!) just to be sure nothing is spoiled at all. summary: Stephen Strange does NOT like having an apprentice. you are said apprentice. need I say more?

warnings: none really <3

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Strange wasn’t exactly... thrilled to have you as an apprentice to begin with... but it was Wong’s orders

and Wong’s words were final. you both knew that.

Strange made it very clear when you first started learning things from him that this wasn’t going to last long if he had a say in it, and it did seem to be going that way... for a long time

each tiny mistake or accidental slip up was enough for Strange to go running to Wong and demand that you be removed from him, but Wong refused every single time without fail

it stayed this way for a long time, you even went to Wong yourself one night to ask if he would separate you and Strange, because you knew you were making his life hard

then, in an odd twist of events, you saved Strange’s life, risking your own in the process

and he finally realised that you were just a scared kid who had powers they didn’t understand

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you’d saved Strange’s life when he was fighting an unknown creature, it had somehow made its way to earth, and was attacking New York

you’d been told to stay away, but you saw that Wong was tied up fighting the creature and then Strange was being lifted off of the concrete–

Wong tried to stop you, calling out your name, but you were already running towards the creature in a blind panic

you might not care much for Strange on the surface, but he had taught you some valuable lessons and shown you things you’d never seen before, so you felt inclined to try and help

your powers were seriously out of control at the best of times, but somehow you concentrated it enough that you scared the creature off with a few well aimed blasts

you also angered it, so once it had retreated, it started coming back

and it was looking directly at you.

it nearly had you, and if you hadn’t managed to slide underneath it and then take cover under a car... no one wanted to think about the consequences, not even Strange

Strange had then quickly opened up the mirror dimension, Wong grabbed and pushed you (rather ungracefully) through a portal to safety in the New York sanctum, and there you waited for their safe return

the lecture you’d received was a long and boring one from Wong, but Strange only had good things to say when it was all over with

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there were many reasons for you becoming Strange’s apprentice, one being that you were practically a loose cannon

you held immense power, for what reason no one knew, but you were on earth and that meant you were under the protection of the Masters of the Mystic Arts

they kept you well hidden from the governments of earth, and if they ever came knocking, they soon forgot why

in terms of your powers before meeting Strange and Wong, you had been reckless and not aware of the potential consequences, and after meeting them you were scared of your powers and held them back

you had been perfectly happy to be savagely fighting Thanos and his army, retrieving the Infinity Stones and being on a large battlefield surrounded by enemies, but now you realised that you needed to gain some control

your powers were wild by nature it seemed, and you didn’t exactly want to control them, because that meant you did less damage in battle

less damage when fighting meant that you appeared weaker, that was how you saw it

no one was more against becoming an apprentice than you, after seeing Tony’s sacrifice and knowing that Nat would never come back, you just didn’t want to be controlled like that

but, Wong had strongly insisted after seeing your potential on the battlefield against Thanos and his army, and eventually you realised that you needed some guidance

to be honest, neither you or Strange had completely agreed to the whole thing, Wong just kind of pushed you together hoping for the best.

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most days, Strange had you studying some ancient book or cataloguing the library, again

a lot of the time, you felt like a glorified housekeeper.

you had a long list of chores to complete each day before anything else could even be considered in terms of training

Strange insisted that doing several chores at once meant you learned better focus and coordination, you just saw it as child labour

on the rare occasion that Strange trusted you to partake in something practical and physical, it often went entirely wrong :(

neither of you quite fully got over the ‘teapot incident’ now that you think about it…

the teapot incident was widely known but rarely spoken about.

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after some months, you were permitted to start using your magic around the New York Sanctum

BUT only in small amounts, per Wong’s strict set of instructions

your magic was not the same as Strange’s… no one quite understood what it was, so he was trying to discipline you into controlling it

and it was proving useful, although some days were much harder than others

a prime example being the day that you woke up and chose violence, purely because of your mood, and ended up getting into quite the argument with Strange over a recent practical experiment that ended badly

the infamous argument saw the New York sanctum empty of sorcerers in mere minutes

it was characterised by a lot of broken furniture and hoarse shouting and loud swearing

whenever you thought you’d said enough, another thing popped into your head and you started shouting again

“AND YOU KNOW WHAT ELSE, STRANGE?” became an overused phrase that day

Strange had just argued back, lowkey throwing insults around too, which only angered you more

Wong had just returned from a mission overseas when the argument began

and when he opened the portal and saw the state of the place, he stepped back through and said to himself

“I’ll come back later.”

Strange was the one to stop arguing first, much to your surprise, and he locked himself in his room to let you calm down 

and stop himself from going “AND ANOTHER THING–”

but peace was finally made when Strange ordered a lot of pizza

like a lot

you made your apologies whilst watching cheesy chick flicks, and Strange promised to try harder with his patience and understanding your position as a scared teeanger with immense power at their fingertips

you felt like the good days were very good, when they came around 

you loved them like nothing else, and on those days, Strange looked at you as if he was… proud, almost.

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in the present day, you’ve discovered that your powers may be able to access something Strange has been fixated on for a long time

he likes to call it the ‘multiverse’, but you think it’s a big lie

you were debating this late one night with Strange as you let cheesy chick flicks play in the background, and Strange told you to try and access the multiverse

when you stubbornly refused, he hit you with:

“oh come on, if you say it can’t possibly exist, then you won’t be able to reach it, will you? so there’s no reason why you can’t try.”

he had you there, either you tried to access it and prove him wrong by finding nothing, or you accept that it existed and did nothing

you couldn’t stand to see him sat there all smug, so you got up from the stiff antique sofa, determined to prove him totally wrong

you had moderate control over your powers now, sometimes using large amounts tired you out and that’s when things would go wrong

but you weren’t going to need much to prove Strange wrong.

you closed your eyes, searching through the earth, finding nothing, and you were about to turn to Steven in triumph when you saw it

another you.

you were watching yourself in an entirely different universe and you had no idea how. you opened your eyes, heart hammering in your chest, sweat on your face, and looked at Strange with wide eyes.

“are there other versions of us in the multiverse?” you asked, weakly.

Strange sat up, hooked on your words

“yes, there would be, in theory. why?” he asked, as you looked around the room as if you’d just seen a ghost of a famous celebrity

“I think... I just saw me, but different.” you swallowed to control your breathing before closing your eyes again and holding out your hands to try and feel for anything unusual

there, it felt like... a bump beneath wallpaper, a splinter in a plank of wood, a loose tooth...

you grabbed onto it, and spontaneously opened up what could only be described as a portal to several other universes that neither of you recognised, or knew what to do with

Strange shot out of his seat, pulling you away from the portal you had opened, before starting to get closer himself

an almighty screech from one of the universes that made the entire sanctum tremble scared you, and with one hasty flick of your hand the portal closed,

like it was never there

Strange turned to look at you, an unreadable look on his pale face

“I am not doing that again.” you whispered.

“oh, you’re doing that again kid.”

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after the ‘multiverse portal incident’, which you had both kept deathly quiet and top secret, Strange started training you differently

he was teaching you aggressive tactics, he started emphasising speed and power rather than taking it slow and steady by studying the opponent first

when you finally questioned him, he vehemently denied that the portal incident had anything to do with the sudden change in training

but you knew better than that.

you spoke to Wong one night, against your better judgement, and let him in on what you’d pulled off randomly one night

in truth, since opening that multiverse portal, you hadn’t been able to pull it off again

you’d tried, in secret, late at night when Strange and Wong were out of the sanctum

but there was nothing. you couldn’t even see that other version of yourself anymore

you hoped they weren’t hurt, or worse

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Wong then suddenly removed you from Strange, denying you any communication with him until it was deemed ‘safe’

“what on earth do you mean ‘safe’? is he in danger?” you asked, desperately trying to understand what Wong’s motivations were

“something... unexplained has been going on recently, and until I can rule out the multiverse as a cause, you will stay here. you are not to reach out to Strange under any circumstances, am I being fully understood?” Wong was deadly serious, and you found yourself agreeing silently

you were confined to Kamar-Taj from that day onwards, and you regretted ever telling Wong of that night, because you found that being ripped apart from Stephen had hurt more than you expected it to.

each night you tried desperately to make a portal to Strange, but Wong had you in a room that seemed to heavily dampen your magic

there were always guards outside of your door, listening, too

you felt like a prisoner, even though you knew that wasn’t what Wong intended to do

eventually, you gave up on trying to reach Strange, and he wasn’t exactly making much of an effort to reach you

that made you sad, really sad, and you started spending more and more time in bed than around Kamar-Taj with your personal guards getting fresh air

Wong didn’t even notice your absence, only your guards did, but they weren’t allowed inside of your room unless you were in imminent danger so they couldn’t help

until Wong let you speak to Strange again, you didn’t know what else you were waiting for

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days seemed to melt into one big thing, you struggled to find motivation or interest in anything the longer it went on, like a broken record. you found yourself reminiscing your precious time with Stephen, your mentor, your only true friend in this world. if only you hadn’t opened that stupid multiverse portal... if there was a way to undo that night, you would, in a heartbeat, reverse it all. you’d simply let Stephen be right and refuse to even entertain the idea of accessing the theoretical multiverse. you closed your eyes, and felt sleep approaching, when the sky darkened outside. curious at something actually happening at Kamar-Taj for once, you watched the windows with drooping eyes. you didn’t make the move to get out of bed though, that was too much right now. you felt a strange energy filling the grounds of Kamar-Taj, something you had encountered once before but not for a long time. now you were feeling something. you walked over to the windows, pressing your face right up against the wood, and saw the Scarlet Witch. she must’ve seen you too, because her head tilted ever so slightly in your direction, before you backed away from the window and fell onto the bed. why was she here? no one had heard from her since... Westview, was it? you couldn’t really recall, you didn’t know her well enough, but Wong and Strange might know her. there had to be a reasonable explanation to her being here. you found your bedroom door unlocked, thankfully, but your personal guards were nowhere to be seen. that wasn’t right, they were normally here all the time, day and night, like a pesky fly in summertime. you had only just made it down the hallway when the sounds of battle from outside reached your ears, and you froze. the Scarlet Witch was attacking Kamar-Taj, and you had absolutely no idea what to do about it without Strange here. ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

messyyythoughts © 2022 do not translate without my permission, give credit if you repost, support always welcomed <3

#messyyythoughts #stephen strange #doctor strange #doctor stephen strange #dr strange #multiverse of madness #marvel #marvel dr strange #benedict wong #wong #benedict cumberbatch #headcanon #marvel headcanons #strange's apprentice #apprentice #gender neutral reader #apprentice!reader

[messyyythoughts]

random thought but I’d love to read a fanfic about two Jedi who meet as padawans, and as they grow older and train under their masters they fall deeply in love but they must hide it because attachment is forbidden but they literally can’t resist one another! I’m begging can someone write about this and save me!!!

#star wars #messyyythoughts #fanfic #Jedi #padawan #attachment is forbidden #but they can’t stop themselves

[messyyythoughts]

anything, part five.

star wars: the bad batch Hunter x female reader

summary: the Bad Batch go to great lengths in order to see you recover. warnings: a few swear words... 😔

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

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“We can’t just break in and steal it! Someone else will be in need of that medicine and we are robbing them of it.” Echo was stating his argument against Hunter’s plan, again. Omega watched on in hidden fascination, for she had witnessed many petty disagreements between the Bad Batch, but not one this heated or multi-faceted. It all began when the nurse asked the Bad Batch to attend a meeting where the matter of payment was to be settled, and Tech had volunteered himself. The news that Tech had returned with was big, and bad.

Omega could still recall hearing the amount of credits from Tech’s lips, and the variation of expressions that had been pulled in response. Wrecker just went blank, Echo looked defeated, Hunter... He looked serious. Something was working in his mind and Omega could see it. It wasn’t until Tech broke down just how many credits they’d have to earn to pay off the treatment that Hunter’s grand plan was finally revealed.

“We get the medicine ourselves, deliver it directly to them.” Hunter had said, looking at Tech with a scheming face. Tech put a finger to his chin and thought for a minute, then two, before answering.

“I… don’t see why not.” Hunter clapped Tech on the shoulder, before asking Wrecker what he thought. Wrecker, having heard Tech’s explanation, agreed that ‘permanently borrowing’ the most expensive medicine for your treatment would be a good way to go about it. Then, came Echo. Echo was on his high horse today, he still thought about how close to death you looked, and it made him reconsider some life choices. Now, he was in a morally correct mindset, and no one was changing his mind. Even with Tech’s convincing explanation, Echo was not swayed. Omega kept quiet in the bunks, listening to it all, reading the body language and expressions of each member and noting their side in this argument.

Omega, had she been given a voice in the argument, would’ve been vouching for Hunter’s plan. She knew that sometimes the rules had to be bent, or even broken, to save the ones you loved. This seemed like one of those times, despite Echo’s argument against stealing the medicine, where the rules had to be disregarded to save a life. Your life, which seemed to matter an awful lot to Hunter and the others, seemed worth breaking the rules for every time. Omega admired you, there was no other word for it, and would happily do anything to get you back to normal. That’s why she shuffled over to Echo when the argument had died down and lost its fire, and spoke to him in the most rational way she could master.

“Echo, why don’t you want to steal the medicine?” Omega asked, her voice low enough that the others wouldn’t hear, except for Hunter.

“Exactly that Omega, steal.” Echo replied sternly, deciding to focus all of his attention on tinkering at some useless object he’d found lying around. He did not make any eye contact with Omega, knowing that he’d give in if she looked even a tiny bit sad.

“Even for her?” Omega asked, looking at Echo with her young eyes, silently asking for his attention. He put down the object, and sighed. “What’s that story you used to tell me when I first met you all? About how she was part of the team rescuing you, and she was your biggest supporter during recovery, and even introduced you to these guys?” Echo went still at Omega’s words, he couldn’t believe she was using this story against him. “She has always been there for you, Echo, even when you weren’t really there yourself. Now, she’s waiting in that hospital for us. Don’t you want to be her biggest supporter during her recovery?” Echo stood up abruptly, and Omega feared she had pushed him too far. He made his way over to a brooding Hunter, and with a stony expression, said he would go along with the plan.

Omega knew that Echo would not like her for changing his mind, or at the very least guilt tripping him into agreeing with the plan, but in her heart she knew it was for a greater good. The survival of you meant a lot to this ragtag group of clones, and they were about to prove it.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。. .·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。. The medicine wasn’t primarily manufactured on Naboo, it was shipped in from Coruscant. When the Bad Batch learned this, they all knew what they were signing up for. But, the plan was in motion now, and nothing except death would stop Hunter from getting that medicine and delivering it to you. Hunter would lead the infiltration, with Wrecker and Tech as backup. Omega was in charge of locating the medicine, and Echo was in charge of the escape plan. As per usual, Omega had to beg to be allowed on the mission, but Hunter sternly refused. She would only blow their cover, unfortunately, and needed to stay with Echo on the Havoc Marauder to make their story look as convincing as possible. With the disguises and fake identities in the works, the Bad Batch took off from the hospital. The nurse who had been keeping an eye on you watched them take off, and shook her head, thinking they had finally abandoned you after hearing the cost of your treatment. She didn’t have much faith in these types, those who travelled rather than settled, but she tried not to hold prejudices against her patients and their families. She sat by your bedside, and started to read her book, she was on her lunch break and kept you company whenever she could. You had yet to stir, mainly because of the remaining traces of poison in your system. Your vitals weren’t ideal, but you could be considered stable, for the time being. Unless the doctors could determine exactly what was poisoning you, they could only give you small doses of common drugs to alleviate your symptoms. The nurse asked each day in the lab if they had yet to determine what the poison was made up of, but they still didn’t have a solid answer. There were so many ingredients that it seemed impossible to accurately pinpoint and therefore name the poison. The working theory at the moment was that it was a new type of poison, manufactured by someone who had nothing but the intention to kill. Had that poison been given more time to get into your system, you’d likely be dead or in a coma by now. You could be in a coma now, for all the nurse knew. There was minimal external activity from you since you’d been brought in, but the nurse was deeply hoping that would soon change, and you’d open your eyes. The nurse’s lunch break came to an end, and she gave you one last look over before leaving your room. .·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。. .·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。. The flight to Coruscant was tense. Echo exploited every hyperspace route he knew, even ones he didn’t fully trust. It took a day to get near Coruscant, and in that time Tech had completed the disguises and fake identities. Omega had used delivery logs to pinpoint the exact warehouse that would hold the medicine, and Echo had constructed a fairly convincing backstory. Hunter, Wrecker and Tech would pose as representatives for a new trading company that wanted to strike a secret deal with the owners of the warehouse. They would swipe what they needed once inside, and then get the fuck out of there while suspicions were still low. The hours in hyperspace were spent planning and rehearsing. Omega acted as the enemy, asking strange questions that Tech somehow managed to answer. Hunter and Wrecker agreed that it was best to let Tech do the trade talk, with Wrecker acting as a bodyguard and Hunter as the silent observer. The only tricky part of the plan was that this meeting was not scheduled, it was going to be completely random, out of the blue. That would set suspicions on edge to begin with, but hopefully things would simmer down once the talking started. In the ship, everyone could sense that Echo was not a great fan of this plan. But, he realised that he wasn’t being fair to you by acting all high and mighty. Thankfully, Omega had made him see that, and now he was sure of the ends justifying the means. If stealing a bit of expensive medicine happened to make you better, he could live with that. He’d fought in a war his entire life where he had to make questionable decisions in seconds, so this was really no different. Hunter was just itching to start the mission, and Wrecker was right behind him. Tech remained cool, going over the plan in his mind another time just to make sure it was perfect. They needed the lowest risk of complications to even hope about making it out alive together. He continued doing the calculations in his head in focused silence in the bunks. Echo and Omega were the support this time, staying on the ship, being the only ones who could get the other three out of trouble should they somehow fuck up. Everyone had their part to play, just like normal. As Coruscant came into view, the Bad Batch settled into their mission mindsets. Each one was strikingly different, and if you could have documented the changes that you often witnessed in the five members when it was time to work, the results would’ve been... strange, but fascinating. Echo was up first, with Omega assisting, and he successfully got past the initial radio check. The ship landed in the shipping district, the first step of the plan was complete. Next, Hunter, Wrecker and Tech in their disguises slipped out of the ship, and into the bustling warehouses. They did receive a few odd looks, but no one called them out. Echo and Omega watched on from the ship in quiet tension, listening out for updates via the comms from the trio. Hunter and Wrecker followed behind Tech as they entered the warehouse flagged up by Omega, and slipped inside the back entrance. “I’m hopeful that we can avoid interacting with anyone and just get straight to the crates.” Tech went quiet as two warehouse workers ambled by, chatting idly. They didn’t even acknowledge the trio, they probably weren’t paid enough to deal with strange individuals wandering about the warehouse. “Let’s get a move on before someone who cares spots us.” Hunter said lowly, ushering them between the stacks of crates to get some cover. Wrecker had to squeeze between the towers of crates sideways to avoid toppling them all over with his shoulders. Tech took out the crumpled note that Omega had given him, she had scribbled down about the serial numbers of the crates that contained the medicine just in case Tech forgot. Tech hadn’t forgotten, but he read it again just to be sure. “The crates should be up ahead, keep an eye out while I find the serial number.” Tech crouched down by the crates and started examining the sides for the printed serial numbers. Wrecker was absolutely squished between the towers of crates, and Hunter was struggling to keep a track of all of the sounds and smells around the warehouse. Echo and Omega stayed sitting in the ship, keeping a track of who came in and out of the warehouse. Things seemed to be going well, albeit a bit slow, until a squad of Stormtroopers jogged past the warehouse. Echo reclined in his seat, letting the shadows obscure his face, Omega slowly lowered herself to the floor, having the most noticeable features of the Bad Batch with her striking blonde hair. “Boys, we’ve just seen a squad of Stormtroopers going past the warehouse, be on the lookout.” Echo said over the comms, his eyes following the group of white as they passed. Omega peeked over the controls and felt her heart hammering in her chest, and she wasn’t even on the mission. Echo started pressing the buttons that would prepare the ship for takeoff, but kept the engines off. Omega was thinking the same thing, as she slid off of the chair and went to find refuge in the bunks instead. “Alright, Tech’s just found the crate, we’re gonna bust it open now.” Hunter replied, obviously keeping his voice down as they weren’t alone in that vast warehouse. Workers were milling about, forklifts were transporting goods across the warehouse every minute. How the trio hadn’t been spotted and called out yet, no one knew. Maybe the workers were turning a blind eye to the three men in shifty outfits cracking open one of the crates, or maybe they were too scared to confront them with the new rule of the Empire being introduced. Times were certainly strange, Hunter knew that, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. “Echo, you got eyes on those troopers? I don’t like being so close to them.” Hunter asked, as Tech passed him several glass vials of a clear liquid that had a very odd name. Tech replaced the lid of the crate and then nodded to the other two, signalling that they could get the fuck outta there. Wrecker started to lead the way back through the towers of crates, but they all went still at the unmistakable sound of comm chatter from a Stormtrooper up ahead. Each of the three men ducked into the shadows, as the squad walked past, guns in hand, and apparently searching for some suspicious characters. Hunter held back a hefty sigh as he realised what the situation had devolved into. It was either sneak out, or shoot out, and Hunter knew which one it would likely end up being. Wrecker was struggling to stay hidden due to his size, and Tech was desperately trying to formulate a plan that would get the three of them out of the warehouse in one piece. Hunter started drawing his knives out, and Wrecker followed suit with his blaster from his back. Tech did not pull out any weapons, not yet, but he probably would have to. “We leave one at a time, the workers should be coming back on shift soon, we can blend in with them and make our way back to the ship unnoticed.” Tech said in a hurry, to which Hunter thought about it, and slowly returned his knives to their holders. Wrecker sadly put his blaster back, hiding it under his cape. The three of them waited in silence for the workers to start returning, and as the buzzer sounded to signal the beginning of the shift, the trio split up and started walking. Tech joined the back of a group making their way out of the warehouse, and then went the other way towards the ship. He successfully boarded and threw off the disguise, sitting in the pilot’s seat and finding that Echo had already warmed the ship up. “Did you... warm up my ship?” Tech asked in surprise as Echo waited by the door for the other two. “I did.” Echo replied, not picking up on the tone in Tech’s voice. “the Stormtroopers spooked us.” Echo added quietly, unholstering his blaster. Wrecker ambled out of the warehouse on his own, but then ducked underneath a steel beam being carried by two workers. Without thinking, Wrecker lifted the beam up on his shoulder and carried it to the other steel beams that were being piled up outside of the warehouse for exportation. The two workers thanked him by tipping their caps at him and he smiled before strolling off towards the ship. To Tech and Echo’s amazement, Wrecker left the warehouse unnoticed. “That’s how you do it.” Wrecker said smugly as he ripped off the cape and discarded it. Echo kept a look out for Hunter, but couldn’t spot him in the groups of workers. “Hunter, come on.” Omega said from beside Echo, having crept up behind him to try and watch for Hunter. Inside of the warehouse, Hunter was held up by two Stormtroopers that were talking to some workers by the exit he had been aiming for. Hunter watched as the workers slipped something to the Stormtroopers before walking off, grins plastered on their faces. Hunter turned around slowly, and started walking the opposite direction to where the Stormtroopers were stood. He slipped between the crates again, getting lost in the maze of boxes. He pulled his hood down to try and get a better understanding of his surroundings, and felt the weight of the remaining vials of medicine in his pockets. He needed to get back to the ship, with the medicine, but the Stormtroopers were posing a huge threat. That’s when Omega’s voice came over his comms. “Hunter, there’s more Stormtroopers coming into the district, you need to make a move!” Hunter sighed, and replied. “I’m on it, Omega, I promise.” He took a glance around the crates and saw that the warehouse floor was packed with workers, and the odd few Stormtroopers. Maybe they were doing random checks in this area today, on orders of the Empire no doubt. Hunter took a chance, and slipped out of the crates to make his way to a back exit that had been propped open with an empty crate. He bumped into a worker, but briefly apologised, and kept moving. The worker then spoke to Hunter. “Hey, do I know you?” His accent was thick, and Hunter stopped walking. He was steps away from the door, only a walk away from the ship. “Hey.” Hunter half turned, showing his face. “Oh, my bad, sorry man.” The worker waved him off and carried on going. Hunter put the hood back up as he entered the open air, and briskly walked to the ship. He spotted Echo waiting by the door, but he looked serious. Hunter picked up some comm chatter behind him, and realised that he’d been followed. Echo nodded subtly and Hunter rested a hand on his blaster concealed under his cape. The world seemed to slow as Hunter got closer to the ship, and Echo took another step down. The only thing Hunter could hear was his pounding heartbeat and amplified nerves. He picked up on Echo’s raised heart rate, he could hear Omega’s faintly from inside the ship. Then, as if by absolute luck, the Stormtroopers turned a corner and carried on their route with little interest in Hunter. Echo let out a breath he had been holding, and Hunter darted inside of the ship, handing the medicine over to Omega. Disguises abandoned and everyone safely on board, Tech took off. .·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。. .·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。. Omega counted the bottles and reported that they had stolen enough to hopefully cover the majority of your treatment cost. By saying those words, it was as if the collective tension of the ship dissipated, and each member was finally able to collapse. The hyperspace journey back was a bit longer as fuel ran short and Tech took the traditional hyperspace routes compared to Echo’s riskier ones. Omega slept in her bunk, as did Hunter, but he wasn’t really asleep. He felt as if he was burning alive as he lay there, in his bunk where you had basically been dying in front of his eyes. His eyes remained wide open, even as Wrecker entered the bunks to sleep, followed by Echo and eventually Tech for a short while. Hunter had fond memories of you in the bunks, especially when you’d swore you could sleep on the floor instead of taking one of the designated bunks away from the boys. He found you awake an hour later, reading a book you’d chosen at some junk shop on the last planet they’d landed on. Hunter offered his bunk to you, but you politely declined several times. It was then that he’d stretched across two chairs and closed his eyes. “What are you doing?” You asked, a smile on your lips. “Getting some shut eye, you should too.” He replied, hiding his grin as you sighed and took your single blanket and book to his empty bunk. You would never admit this to him, but the smell of him in his bunk was comforting, and the pillow he used was old but somehow familiar. You got comfortable, and finished reading your page before falling asleep with the book laying flat on your chest. Hunter smiled sadly as he remembered that night, on one of the longest hyperspace journeys ever. It wasn’t really that long, but you’d just joined them, and he was struggling to get his mind off of you. All of them weren’t used to having a woman in close quarters, but Hunter found it somewhat challenging to adjust. It wasn’t that he didn’t like you, he actually was very fond of you, it was how everything about you stood out like a shining star against a dark night sky. He was used to his brothers, and their ways. The way Echo shifted in his sleep when he was having nightmares, how Wrecker snored so loudly, and Tech mumbled in his sleep even though he swore he didn’t. But you? You slept like a log once you were out. It was nearly impossible to disturb you. Once you were asleep, Hunter could pick up on your breathing patterns much easier than anyone else’s, he could also feel when you were about to stir and finally stretch your arms out, and say that raspy good morning to everyone. Hunter didn’t realise that he was on the verge of tears as he remembered that night and those things about you. He closed his eyes and turned onto his side, trying to block out the senses around him and get some shut eye like he’d once told you to do. .·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。. .·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。. Tech announced with a yawn that Naboo was within range. Omega couldn’t be happier to be getting back to you, she had missed you massively, and was desperate to deliver that medicine. Hunter sat up from the bunks, and watched the blues of hyperspace. Echo took a seat next to him, looking at his brother’s face. “How are you feeling? We’re nearly there.” He said, to which Hunter looked down to his booted feet. “Why didn’t you want to help her?” He found himself asking in a low voice. Echo closed his eyes in thought before answering. “Seeing her so... I don’t know, I wasn’t thinking straight, and I’m sorry. I’m doing everything I can now.” Hunter didn’t say anything in reply, he genuinely didn’t know what there was for him to say. Echo had really hurt him by refusing to go along with the plan at first, no matter how much effort he was putting in now. Brothers didn’t do that to one another. Echo got up and left Hunter alone in the bunks without another word. .·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。. .·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。. When the Havoc Marauder landed back on Naboo, right outside the hospital, a familiar nurse came rushing out. Omega had wrapped the medicine up in an old pillowcase to hand to the nurse, but seeing her come running out made her think twice. Hunter sped down the steps, meeting the nurse halfway across the entrance courtyard. “Where have you all been? She’s awake, she’s finally awake!” The nurse cried, upset at the Bad Batch but joyful for the news she was delivering. Omega passed the medicine to Tech, and ran ahead. The nurse followed her, taking Omega’s hand in hers and leading her straight past the entrance and to the patient rooms. The others followed, having finally taken in the news. Hunter was at the front, slipping past people in hallways as he followed the nurse’s scent. As the five brothers turned a corner to your room, they stopped in their tracks. Your eyes were open, you were breathing on your own, but you didn’t look like you should be alive. One by one, the Bad Batch entered the room, slowly. They were scared of how close to death you looked, so sickly and weak. You could barely move your head without it falling to one side from the effort. Tech approached the nurse and handed her the medicine, to which she started adjusting your IV. Omega was right at your side, her hands clamped around one of yours. Echo noticed that you could barely hold her hand back, that was how weak you were. He knew how you felt, he’d been there, and he wanted nothing more than to relieve that pain for you. It was all a bit much, and he found himself leaning against the wall and staring at the floor. Hunter knelt by your bedside, right next to Omega, and put an arm around her shoulder. “She’s awake, huh? Not very talkative.” Hunter nudged Omega, to which she beamed at him, before she reached up to your face and smoothed your hair out of your eyes. “She’s just coming around, give her a minute Hunter.” Omega’s shy voice made you smile, and your eyes flickered over her. Hunter realised that you were checking her for injuries, so he told you what you would likely be asking her if you could. “Omega has not seen any action since we brought you to hospital, she’s been staying on the ship as ordered. We had to take a trip to collect something important, but it’s done with now.” Your heavy eyes found Hunter’s and you said a thousand things at once with just one look. “You’re going to get better, we’ve made sure of that.” He squeezed Omega’s shoulder proudly and heard the nurse talking to Tech. Something about reducing the cost of the treatment since you’d provided the required medicine yourselves, which she was grateful for as the doctors weren’t authorising big doses of medication until your poisoning was solved. Hunter’s attention was entirely focused on you, he blocked out everyone else except Omega. “Is the medicine working yet?” Omega asked you, looking between the IV drip and you. To her surprise, you nodded once, and then your hand tightened around hers. You were feeling better already, to Omega’s joy and Hunter’s relief. The others started coming over to see you, and if you could’ve taken a picture then and there of all of them crammed together at your bedside, you would’ve. It was one of the most precious moments you had ever had the pleasure of witnessing. .·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。. .·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。. messyyythoughts © 2022 do not translate without my permission, give credit if you repost, support always welcomed <3

#messyyythoughts #tracked part five #the bad batch #star wars #star wars the bad batch #sw the bad batch #sw #hunter #hunter x reader #female!reader #sw tbb #tbb echo #tbb hunter #tbb wrecker #tbb tech #tbb omega

[messyyythoughts]

black and red, part 2.

marvel Matt Murdock + female ballet dancer reader

summary: Matt is running out of time to find the ballerina and her friend. warnings: swearing, character death :(

part 1

⊱ ━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━ ⊰

the cold metal of the bracelet reminded Matt that the ballerina was out there still, waiting for him, praying maybe. he tucked the bracelet into his pocket, he’d give it back to her himself when he found her, and her friend. the tunnels were becoming a hard to decipher jumble of voices, footsteps and occasionally search dogs barking. each new sound layered atop the last, making an ever growing pressure build in Matt’s head, something he didn’t need. still, he pressed on.

the sound of running water finally hit Matt’s ears as he kept creeping further into the tunnel system, losing hope and determination with each step. the scent of the ballerina’s perfume had become dampened by the cold air and the stench of what Matt could only hope was sewage, not bodies of enemies of the gang. as he got closer to the running water sound, his foot stepped on something soft. he immediately bent down, hands landing on something wet and furry. his hands recoiled, believing he’d just fondled a drowned animal, but then he caught that smell. the ballerina’s perfume was all over that furry object, and Matt suddenly knew exactly what he was faced with. her favourite fur coat that she’d bought for herself after her first successful show.

Matt picked it up, it was soaking, and now reeked of dirty sewage water. still, there was a tang of something in the air, a more subtle metallic smell... blood. Matt’s hands desperately clutched on the material, and he found patches of recently lost blood on the sides of the fur coat, much to his weakening resolve. still, he left the coat there, now ruined by the water, and carried on. all he could think about was where those blood patches could’ve originated from, was it her side, her arms, her hands? who’d hurt her? was she getting away, was she already back at his apartment crying for him?

he wished he knew.

the tunnel came to an end. why did it abruptly end here? Matt could sense a change in the space before him, there was a tall object attached to the wall, his hands landed on a ladder. it was old, rusted, creaky. the texture on his gloves was awful, let alone bare skin, he thought. there were no traces of blood on the ladder rungs as far as he could sense, as he made his way up in a hurry. he was rushing so bad that he didn’t stop to take in the surroundings ahead of him. just before his head would’ve surfaced into an above ground building, he paused. the lightest sound of footsteps above him. his heart pumped faster, and he backed down a few steps.

the manhole above was wrenched open and he was hauled upwards, thrown onto concrete and surrounded. guns cocked and clicked, Matt put his hands behind his head and grit his jaw together. he’d walked right into whatever this was, like an idiot. an unprepared, unfocused idiot. what a rookie mistake. as Matt’s self-inflicted insults ran through his head, the men around him shifted as another person entered the room.

“so good of you to finally make an appearance,” the voice was one he’d never heard before in his life, “I don’t know what to call you, so masked man will do.” the voice added quietly, before taking a deep breath to project their voice. “well, it seems we’re at a bit of a crossroads, I have something you want, you have something I want. see what I’m getting at?” Matt stayed silent, only breathing filled the room. “the silent treatment, right, okay.” the voice made an exasperated sigh, and footsteps echoed around the room. “let’s show you instead then, hmm?” the voice was then joined by sets of footsteps, and Matt immediately recognised the ones he’d been listening for all night.

the ballerina was being manhandled into the room alongside her friend, who looked much worse for wear. Matt could instantly sense the fear running through both of the girls, and it made him desperate to get out of here as quick as he could, but a survey of the room gave Matt a rough headcount of twenty men armed with various weapons, not to mention the ones upstairs and the owner of the voice. “now, whether or not you can see through that ridiculous mask of yours, I’m certain you know who stands before you at gunpoint.” Matt froze, suddenly realising the odds of this ending in an acceptable way. “oh, I do believe he’s realised how fucked he is!” there was a stark silence save for the laughter of that voice. it must be the leader’s voice, since no one else dared to speak.

“let the girls go and take me.” Matt said, breaking the laughter of the voice short. a tension settled over the room. Matt got the idea that no one had ever interrupted the maniacal laughter before, and he’d just been the first. “I know you want nothing to do with them, you want me, don’t you?” Matt continued. the voice had gone silent.

“wrong.” the sound of a gun being loaded filled the room. “I want everyone in this room right where they are.” the voice had a very unhinged tone to it now, and Matt sensed that things were about to go bad, quickly.

“you’re a freak, you know that?” a new voice hit Matt’s ears. he realised it was the ballerina’s friend. 

“don’t–” the ballerina hissed, but her friend had reached breaking point.

“you keep us here for no reason, laugh at everything you say, but you’re just a sad, lonely freak who has nothing better to do with his time. how shit do you have to be at your job to be demoted to kidnapping girls, ballerinas at that? I hope your boss has your name written down in a little black book with three strikes through it because you’re useless, you know that?” the voice broke out into laughter again, and Matt waited in absolute tense suspense. “what? is that all you can do, laugh at me? you’re pathetic–”

“oh, you were a funny one.” the gun clicked and a shot rang out, followed by a thump, then a scream. the voice was laughing again, harder this time, and Matt was having trouble registering what had just happened. the men around Matt shifted uncomfortably, obviously not expecting that either. Matt was guessing that it hadn’t been part of the plan. screams filled the room, the building, as the ballerina dropped to the floor to cradle her friend’s body. Matt listened out for the friend’s breath, heartbeat, anything but there was nothing. other than the racing heartbeats of everyone else in the room. “now, onto the main event.” the voice had stopped laughing and was now focused, serious.

a rustle of clothing and the sound of pages flipping, the echoing cries of the ballerina. Matt was losing time to figure out an escape, yet he couldn’t do anything from the position he was in, outnumbered twenty something to one.

think, Murdock, think.

“what are you doing–” the ballerina sobbed as movement sounded from her direction. she was being dragged up from her friend’s body and made to stand up straight.

“hold on a moment, I’m reading.” the voice snapped, before clearing his throat. what he said next was not what Matt expected, or the ballerina, but it changed everything. “longing,” the word was in Russian, and more followed, “rusted, seventeen,” Matt heard the slowing of the ballerina’s heartbeat, “daybreak, furnace,” the voice got more and more dramatic with each word he spoke, “nine, benign,” Matt didn’t understand what was going on, but it scared him, “homecoming. one. freight car.” the voice went silent, only heavy breathing remained. “now, my little ballerina, are you ready to comply?”

“ready to comply.” the ballerina replied in Russian.

“execute the masked man.” the voice ordered, excitement evident in his tone. Matt listened as the ballerina approached, taking long striding steps.

“wait–” Matt got out before the ballerina had him by the throat. Matt’s hands went to hers, and held her back, but she was fighting him. where had this strength come from? Matt was astounded, but also confused. why had those words changed the ballerina? why was she now acting on the voice’s orders without question? Matt could sense a change in the ballerina’s demeanour, but it was something deeper, something in her mind that she had no control over. she would never harm someone else, not unless her own life was on the line, even then she was scared to hurt others because she’d get into trouble. now, that sweet girl was gone, and left behind was something entirely different.

“I said execute him, girl.” the voice sounded from behind the ballerina, which spurred her to latch her hands onto Matt’s throat again and start squeezing. “yes, yes, do it!” the voice was overjoyed at what it was witnessing, but the ballerina was still not outright killing Matt as expected.

“listen to me, he’s done something to you, this isn’t you at all. you don’t hurt people, that isn’t who you are, why are you listening to him?” the ballerina’s hold remained firm, but Matt still fought to speak to her. “remember when I came to you on that rooftop the first time about your case? then when the case was finished you danced, and I danced with you? remember that?” Matt was wasting valuable oxygen, but he found that he didn’t care. he’d do anything to get the ballerina back, even if it killed him.

“what are you waiting for, ballerina? kill him!” the voice demanded.

“don’t listen to him, you never listen to bad men, not like him. you remember him, don’t you? don’t make me say his name, I don’t want to do that to you but if I can’t get you back–” the ballerina knelt down to Matt’s level, staring at him through the mask. “I’m sorry for this.” Matt then spoke the full name of the ballerina’s abusive ex-boyfriend who’d made her life a living Hell in and out of court. he was gone now, but still existed in the ballerina’s memories and nightmares. Matt felt the change happen from inside of her, first her heart, then her head, then the rest of her body followed suit. she began panicking again, rather than being stone cold serious.

“oh my god.” she said, looking around the room, her eyes landing on her dead friend once again. “what did you do to her?” she asked, voice shaking as she went to her knees halfway between Matt and her friend’s body. “what did you do!” she demanded, in a way that Matt had never quite heard before.

“why are you talking?” the voice asked, sounding as confused as Matt felt. “why isn’t it working? what did you say to her?” the voice made a path for Matt, but was abruptly stopped. the ballerina had grabbed the voice’s leg on his way past and held him there.

“I asked you a question.” she stood up, iron grip on the voice’s clothing, before slamming the voice back into a column of bricks. “what have you done?” she repeated, voice broken but body rigid. Matt started to get a sense of the situation, and got himself ready for a fight, because one was coming soon.

“I woke you up, you oblivious little bitch.” the voice started laughing, but was cut off as the ballerina slammed him into the floor, about to land a deadly blow when the nearby armed men jumped in. one dove at the ballerina, but she simply rolled and threw him off, getting back up to her feet without so much as a side glance. Matt swung out his leg, taking out some of the armed men, but not all of them. he ducked as bullets started flying, no longer questioning the ballerina’s persona change. if she could fight now that was only an improvement in this situation, and Matt wasn’t complaining about it.

the ballerina took on as many men as she could, evading their clumsy attacks and flooring them at each turn. she disarmed them easily, throwing unloaded pistols aside and emptying the clips into the bodies of her attackers. she even swung up on one’s shoulders using her legs alone, breaking the man’s neck and letting him fall to the floor. she had not a scratch on her, and any blood that landed on her was not her own. Matt was doing well on his side of the room too, knocking out men with his kicks and slamming them into walls. by luck neither Matt or the ballerina had caught a stray bullet, and it was when they realised this that the room was empty of conscious or living people.

the owner of the voice had fled, that much was evident, leaving behind twenty-ish dead or beaten men and one dead ballerina. Matt kicked in the head of one last attacker, silencing him, before turning in the direction of the ballerina. she was knelt over her friend’s body again, tears running but no audible sobs. the ballerina smoothed the hair out of her friend’s face, smiling sadly. the single gunshot to her chest had killed her instantly, at least she hadn’t suffered, but she was still dead.

Matt slowly came to the ballerina’s side, unsure of what state she was in now. she’d just fought off grown gang members with loaded weapons like it was just another day, when before she wouldn’t have dared look at someone the wrong way.

“I got her killed, he wanted me, not her.” the ballerina said with a small voice. Matt immediately recognised the ballerina that he had first met.

“he shot her, it’s his fault. I’ll find him, but we need to go.” Matt was knelt down next to the ballerina, and could sense the presence of the body right before him. it was a horrible feeling, being in the presence of the recently departed. it was like there was a black hole in the room, drawing in all of the warmth and love and leaving nothing there in turn. not that there was any warmth or love in this godforsaken abandoned building in the first place, but the ballerina’s heart was obviously breaking. “we’ll take her to the city coroner.” Matt said, reaching out to pick up the body, which was cold. the poor girl had lived her last few moments making a stand for her life, but she’d endured barbaric treatment from the gang, been shivering in the cold and probably wishing for a way out in her last few days.

yet, Matt was relieved that it wasn’t his ballerina’s body he was carrying.

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the ballerina burst back into Matt’s apartment, despite it being early morning. she was desperate to tell him about what the fuck had just happened, but found the place empty. she cried her heart out at being alone, and she thought about her now dead friend each time she closed her eyes. the ballerina cried herself to exhaustion, and eventually sleep, though it was fitful and cruel. she had fallen asleep on the couch, but woke up in Matt’s bed. she opened her aching, swollen eyes to see Matt in the kitchen. she rolled over, trying to dispel the mean headache that had formed overnight, and sighed when it only got worse.

Matt then appeared at the doorway, holding a tea and breakfast.

“where were you last night when I came in?” the ballerina demanded, sitting up and squinting at the bright New York light coming in through the windows.

“I was out looking for you, you did go missing last night, remember?” Matt replied sternly. “that was dangerous, you realise that, right? we’re lucky you came back on your own.” he sat on the edge of the bed and waited for the ballerina’s response.

“you have no idea what happened, do you?” the ballerina asked, voice deadly quiet. she’d changed, Matt noted. “I had to abandon my best friend’s body at the city coroner with the help of the masked man, because some fucking depraved gang leader shot her, when what he really wanted was me.” the ballerina’s voice was laced with hate, unmistakable seething hatred. “he killed her, then... brainwashed me with Russian words. I almost hurt the masked man under orders to execute him. then I snapped out of it and started fighting people who had guns pointed at me. none of it makes any sense, nothing.” the ballerina was exhausted still, Matt could sense it.

“I’m sorry,” Matt’s hand covered the ballerina’s, “about your friend, the gang, all of it.” Matt’s heart screamed for the ballerina, he could sense her pain. “we’ll open a case at Nelson and Murdock–”

“no.” Matt stopped talking, but he was relieved that the ballerina was opposed to opening a case, going to the police. “no, this isn’t something you deal with in the courts. this is... different.”

“what do you want to do?” Matt asked, a simple question, but a million possible answers. he knew exactly what the ballerina was about to say.

“right now? sleep for a hundred years. after that? kill that man.” Matt turned towards the ballerina, both of his hands taking hers and holding them. he had to put on an act, he had to try and discourage her, but he so badly wanted to just come out and say he’d help her no matter what.

“that’s not possible, I’m sorry, but you’re putting yourself in too much danger.” the ballerina leant forward and challenged Matt.

“I think I can handle it, ask the masked man.” Matt had to hold back a smile, because he knew exactly what she was referring to, yet he had to hide it. instead, he shook his head. “whatever that brainwashing thing was, it made me able to fight, and I mean fight. I just need the masked man to help me find this psycho so I can kill him.” the ballerina had never been so determined before, not even before a new show where she was performing as the lead for the first time on opening night.

Matt lowered his head, feigning defeat.

“if I call him, and he says no, that’s it.” the ballerina squeezed Matt’s hands.

“I think we both know he won’t say no.”

and she was right, because Matt was already planning his next nighttime venture.

⊱ ━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━ ⊰

messyyythoughts © 2022 do not translate without my permission, give credit if you repost, support always welcomed <3

#messyyythoughts #matt murdock fic #mattdad #Matt Murdock #Matthew Murdock #marvel #marvel daredevil #Daredevil #will be using mattdad from this day forward #black and red part 2 #black and red #marvel matt murdock #nelson and murdock #ballerina!reader #female!reader #matt being a dad #fanfic #marvel fic #plot twist? #x reader

[messyyythoughts]

black and red, part 1.

marvel Matt Murdock + female ballet dancer reader

author’s note: I am so so so happy that the first #mattdad fic received some love, so here is a second one :) thank you for the support, it means a lot to me as always! summary: the ballerina is finally prospering in her life, until her best friend goes missing. warnings: swearing (you have been warned 😟) and minor injury description! part 2

⊱ ━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━ ⊰

she had been sat in the police station for hours. it was overrun with calls and cops, yet no one had spared her a glance since she had reported her best friend’s disappearance. with tired eyes and permanently aching feet, the ballerina glanced at her phone screen again, seeing that it was almost morning in New York city. she had a show tonight, she should’ve been in bed hours ago and waking up soon for her morning routine. but, here she was, waiting to speak with a detective. the ballerina even asked the front desk if there was anyone available at all who would be willing to speak to her, and she was given a rookie cop in return. she tried to explain the situation, but was shot down, and told to forget about her friend as she probably did “a disappearing act over a boy and didn’t want to tell anyone”. the ballerina was then dismissed out of the police station and back into the streets of NYC. she got home as the sun began to rise, and felt utterly helpless and hopeless. she tried to do something to take her mind off of it, tried desperately to believe the cop’s words, but her mind was stuck on her friend. her best friend wouldn’t just up and leave like that without saying something, she knew that. she’d called and texted hundreds of times, and she knew that her friend would’ve picked up after even one phone call. she sat still as a statue in the apartment, thinking about what options she had. the police in NYC were a dead end, she realised that now, the good cops were too busy or too low down the pecking order, and the crooked ones wouldn’t risk upsetting the wrong people just for a lost ballerina. but who else was there? she sat there deep in thought, thinking back to when she was in trouble herself... oh. the masked man. with a jump she got out of her chair, digging around for her mobile in her handbag, and dialling Karen first. when Karen didn’t pick up, she reluctantly stared at the screen for Matthew Murdock’s number. she put the phone back down on the counter, second guessing herself. she hated having to ask him for more help when he’d already done so much for her, but what other options did she have? she was no good at doing detective work herself, and she didn’t know people like Matt did. so, she went for Matt’s number. to her surprise, he picked up before the third ring. he said her name immediately, and she sighed in relief. “I need your help.” she said in a timid voice, her heart beating at a million miles an hour as she waited for his answer. she really hoped she hadn’t interrupted him doing anything important. “where are you?” he asked, rustling sounds coming from his end. “in my apartment. can I come to you?” the ballerina asked, biting one of her nails as she spoke, a habit she never broke. “yeah, of course you can. I can call a cab for you if that’s easier?” he was so good to her, even though her own case had been tied up and was no longer Matt’s problem. the ballerina took the cab to Matt’s place, which she hadn’t actually visited before, and he welcomed her in with a hug. she felt awful for intruding but she really needed his help, she hung up her coat and took off her shoes. he made her a hot drink in his little kitchen and they sat down on the couch together, after the ballerina had calmed down. she was a silent worrier, Matt had noticed, not a loud or physical one. her cues were very subtle, but if you paid attention, they were there. tonight she was picking at her knitted jumper sleeve, avoiding eye contact with Matt as he had taken his glasses off for the evening. “what’s going on? trouble about your case?” he asked, holding his own drink in both of his hands. “no, it’s not me this time. it’s my friend, best friend, really. I saw her after the last show, and then all of a sudden she disappears. I’ve been to her place, called her a hundred times. none of our other friends have heard or seen a thing either, and the police told me to forget about it.” the ballerina realised how unimportant that sounded so she added, “something just isn’t right, Matt, I wouldn’t be here otherwise. we have a strict routine and she’s just totally abandoned it all, not a single word to me.” the ballerina said this all with a wobbling voice, and Matt reached out to her gently. she leant into his side hug, and wiped a few stray tears away, thinking he hadn’t seen them. he felt them, that tiny sliver of sadness amongst a big ball of stress and worry. “I’ll call my friend, he’ll sort everything out. he just needs time to get some information. I’ll give him what I can too.” the ballerina nodded, and when she had finished her hot drink Matt insisted that she stay for the night, so she borrowed Matt’s clean clothes, which did get a smile out of her from how oversized they were. while Matt made a show of doing legal stuff, the ballerina busied herself with daily stretches that she repeated too many times, then a few hundred practice moves. Matt knew she was calming herself through dance, and it both made him fascinated, and worried that she wouldn’t sleep. just as Matt was about to make up some excuse for leaving the apartment so late, the ballerina gave in and collapsed onto the couch. being as quiet as possible, Matt slipped out, and started his hunt. he hadn’t met the ballerina’s best friend before, but he had a pretty good idea of what he was looking for. young girls were being relentlessly targeted in NYC as of late, and this case was no exception. the ballerina had narrowly escaped her own encounter with a boy who’d had evil intentions, and Matt held that victory close to his heart, for he’d never seen someone so defeated be so brave when called upon. it was funny, because Matt had never considered having children, but the ballerina had certainly given him an idea of what it might be like, what it might feel like one day. unfortunately, that life was far off for Matt, especially as he found himself prowling the streets of cold, dark NYC in search for information on the ballerina’s missing friend. ⊱ ━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━ ⊰ the ballerina called in sick to her performance that night, and knew that her understudy would be overjoyed at the news, she was always itching for a chance to perform. the ballerina waited as patiently as she possibly could for Matt to return, assuming he had left to go to work as she had intruded on him in the morning hours. he came back at lunch, and told the ballerina to pack a bag at her apartment and come back before night fell. the ballerina knew better than to ask questions, so she did just that. she took the subway home, headphones in, losing herself in the noise of the city. she liked people watching on her journeys around the city, making up lives for the people her eyes landed on. maybe other people looked at her and assumed she lived with two loving parents in some nice NYC apartment, or even a townhouse outside the city where she attended one of those good schools. the ballerina knew immediately that she’d hate that life, pretending like she lived in a happy little family when it was just the opposite. all her dreams of a happy family died when she moved to NYC–– her stop was coming up, so she stopped thinking and started walking. she felt unsafe entering her own place for the first time in a long time, but she was only here to get some things. with a gnawing anxiety she started packing a bag for a few days. she kept going back and forth for things she’d forgotten, simple things like a hairbrush or toothpaste. the floundering ballerina found herself in the middle of her now very messy apartment when her phone rang. she thought nothing of it at first, staring at the screen in mild confusion, it was an unknown number. her head was all muddled, it was wrong to pick it up, but what if it was her friend using someone else’s phone? against her better judgement, she pressed answer.

“listen very closely, we’ve got your little ballerina friend here, and for her safe return we want a bit of cash.” if the ballerina’s blood could’ve frozen and sent her into hypothermic shock, it would’ve. that voice was entirely unfamiliar and yet it was as if she’d heard it in dreams, or nightmares. “how does... fifty thousand American dollars sound?” there were a chorus of agreeing cheers from the other end, and the ballerina felt sick to her stomach. she then heard something she wasn’t expecting. “don’t you dare listen to them! they’ll kill you and me and take the money, just get as far away as you can–” the phone was pulled away from her friend’s voice, but she continued screaming. the ballerina had to steady herself against the wall, feeling as if she wasn’t even in control of her own body. this was not happening. “shut up, bitch!” a different voice bellowed, silencing everything on that end. the ballerina held back gasping breaths as she tried to understand what was going on. having a panic attack was not the move right now. “right, have we got that clear, sweetheart? fifty thousand in cash by tonight, you’re gonna leave it at the address I send you after this call ends. any funny business, police, outsiders, and your friend here dies. I don’t play those games, got it?” the ballerina was at a total loss for words.”can you fucking hear me or is the signal bad at your cushty little apartment?” he asked, quietly, to which the ballerina froze. “fifty thousand?” the ballerina asked, physically shaking. “there she is! you got it sweetheart, just leave it at the address I send you, and no one gets hurt. simple, right?” the ballerina had to bite back her cry before answering. “okay, alright. I... I just want her back, unharmed.” the voice on the other end laughed before replying. “that’s for me to decide, not you. I’ll see you tonight.” the call ended, and the ballerina stared at the wall she’d been leaning on for a good few minutes, processing what she had just agreed to. the address did indeed come through on her phone, from the same unknown number, and she knew it was somewhere in the old industrial part of the city. mostly abandoned warehouses filled with homeless people, or gangs. she went to ring Matt, but remembered the part about involving outsiders. Matt was an outsider, and if the voice on the phone knew he was involved, her friend stood no chance. fifty thousand was... too much money for her to comprehend. she didn’t even have that much, even so, withdrawing all of her life savings at once was sure to raise eyebrows. she had to do it at different banks at different times all by the end of today, then get it ready for tonight. should she take protection with her in case things went sideways? it was probably best... right? but what if they were there and searched her for weapons, finding whatever she’d brought, and killed her there and then? her head span with the choices and decisions she had to make by tonight. there was one thing she knew for certain though, she was getting her friend back alive, one way or another. ⊱ ━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━ ⊰ several banks later, the ballerina was almost ready. she changed into more appropriate attire for the cold New York nights, before putting all of the money into a bag and taking the subway to the address. before she arrived, she sent a last minute voice note to Matt, against her better judgement again, about where she was going. he would figure out the rest, she was sure of it. she made sure she sounded okay, not nervy or weak, to try and put him off sending help. Matt was still trying to call her as she stepped off the subway, but she silenced her phone, hid it in her bra and started walking with a bag full of cash and nothing but sheer unrelenting hope that this would play out in her favour. the warehouses were very intimidating, despite their deteriorating condition and emptiness. maybe that was what made them so... haunting. the ballerina tried to get her head straight as she counted the warehouses to make sure she left the money in the right one. there, the one warehouse with boarded up windows and signs of life around it, at the end of the row. to say that the ballerina’s emotional state was a wreck would be an understatement. she had no idea what she felt, it was a huge mix of anxiety, adrenaline, fear, dying hope and an urge to flee while she still could. she paused before entering the warehouse, it appeared to be abandoned on the outside, but once she stepped inside she could have dozens of guns on her. she shook her head, wrenching the door open, and squeezing through the gap she’d made. she barely noticed the massive gash on her hand from where she’d scraped it across the jagged metal door, leaving the potent smell of blood behind her. it was hot dripping from her fingers, but she ignored it. with a grunt, she hauled the bag after her, barely getting it through. the warehouse was eerily empty, and the ballerina didn’t know whether to be relieved or suspicious. she walked to the middle of the building, putting the bag down, and turned to leave when she had a bad feeling. she wasn’t alone, she just knew it, she wasn’t on her own in here. they were somewhere, they were close, but where? she turned back around, and found her answer, as numerous shadows began passing by the back windows. they were coming, and she suddenly felt like the money was the last thing they wanted. how could she let herself get into this situation? she made a break for a window, yanking it open and vaulting over the frame to land in a patch of overgrown shrubbery. the stinging on her face told her that she’d landed in something nasty, and she rushed to get free. shouting from inside the warehouse began, and the ballerina ran. ⊱ ━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━ ⊰ Matt listened to the voice message again, trying to discern if it was genuine. the sounds of the New York subway screeching in the back made him think that it was genuine, but someone could’ve had her at gunpoint. gangs were rampant in NYC, and went to extremes to get what they wanted, and that alone made Matt worried. he was now out of his lawyer attire and in the masked man clothes, preparing himself for the worst night of his life. he was equally upset at the ballerina and impressed, he didn’t think she’d have the willingness to travel to a part of the city that was so dangerous, all to get her friend back. he was aware that there was probably cash or something valuable involved in exchange for the friend, as the words ‘drop off’ had implied in the ballerina’s voice message. strangely, he hadn’t heard her voice wavering like it normally did when she was nervous. Matt found that the ballerina’s voice, like so many others, betrayed her emotions at the best of times. some people had the ability to mask that weakness, but the ballerina was almost acutely aware of it, and used it sometimes to get her way. she was more than she appeared, Matt knew that, even if she didn’t. as Matt entered the warehouse district, he caught a gust of wind, and the unmistakable smell of the ballerina’s perfume. she’d heavily overdone it, he knew that instantly by how strong it was. like a dog catching the faintest scent of food, he followed. he arrived at the very last warehouse, on the end, dark, empty. if the ballerina had been here, she was gone now, but not far. he crept into the warehouse, finding it empty, but smelling traces of blood and heavy perfume in the air. he found the start of the blood trail, on a sharp metal doorframe, and followed a dripping trail that led to the basement level, and then abruptly ended by a wall. he retraced his steps, and ended up at the same spot. why did the fresh blood trail end at a brick wall? he scoured high and low in that basement level for more traces of blood, but always ended up at the same wall. in frustration, he punched it, and listened to the sound it made. it was hollow. his fingertips immediately felt around the brickwork for something unusual, something that stood out. he went over the entire wall once, twice. it had to be here somewhere, he was running out of time.  there, he just had it. he skimmed his fingers back over, and pushed down, hearing the wall move backwards. what Matt didn’t realise is that what stood before him was a complex network of tunnels. he listened out, hearing faint, faraway footsteps, and entered the tunnels. the wall didn’t move back into place on its own, meaning that someone had to do it from this side, so there had to be several people down here. Matt’s first guess would be gang members, but it could just be some loosely organised punks looking to make some serious cash off of a successful ballerina. whoever it was, they’d picked the wrong target tonight. Matt paused at the first corner. he took a moment to think, at worst, it was going to be a double homicide on his hands, at best he might get one of them back alive. the money wasn’t even in the question at this point, it was probably already gone. he then went deeper into the crudely constructed tunnels, ducking where he had to, and trying his best to follow the distant footsteps. all he could think about was how the ballerina had become so successful and had been prospering in her life. she’d already been ruined once, taken to her lowest possible point, and had come out the other side. Matt was only praying that she could do it again. he remembered attending her first performance. while he couldn’t see it and appreciate it in that way, he felt it, and was every bit as proud as Karen and Foggy were. in fact, he was more proud, not that he would ever say it because Foggy would ask him to prove it and then there would be a whole thing about it. but, Matt was proud, and he was reminded of how proud he felt of his dad when he won a boxing match. that feeling was a long forgotten one, and somehow the ballerina had reignited it. Matt paused at a corner, hearing voices neary. they were much closer than the footsteps he’d been tracking. the voices were idly chatting, obviously bored. Matt picked up on what they were saying. “but man, these tunnels? they go way back, I swear. my old man used to brag about running all sorts through here, and the cops had no fuckin’ idea!” the first one laughed. “man, I wish we knew about these sooner, could’ve saved us a lot of trouble.” the other one replied, sighing. “we lost a lot of guys recently, cops are cracking down. if they found out about these tunnels, we’d be really fucked.” the first guy tutted. “they won’t, we hid ‘em after the last raid. cops thought they blew up the lot, but we had backups already dug out.” they both started laughing now, that was when Matt revealed himself around the corner and surprised them both. before they had the chance to pull out their guns, they were down. they both sported an abundance of tattoos, some of which were very clearly gang related. they wore black and white, also pointing towards a gang affiliation. Matt sighed, kicking away the guns in case they got back up later. so, the cops had previously tried to end the use of these tunnels by blowing them up, but it hadn’t worked? well, Matt knew exactly how to fix that.

⊱ ━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━ ⊰ one phone call later, and the police were swarming the tunnels. Matt had removed himself well before making the call, and watched in satisfaction as the police turned up in vans and SWAT teams. they entered through the warehouse Matt had used, and started flushing out the gang members from every possible angle. all across the city gang members were on the run, having heard the news from those who had been chased out of the tunnels or caught. the police were doing a lot of shooting on sight, which meant less work for Matt when they cleared out. Matt re-entered the tunnels with caution as the police were still active down there, clearing out rooms full of drugs and guns. some gang members were still hiding, or running, around the network and warning others to get out. Matt knew that the ballerina had to be down here somewhere, her scent was lingering in his head like she’d been here, but only for a short amount of time. she was smart to use the perfume as she had, it left a temporary trail for Matt, but no one else. he followed it, but it got him nowhere, and the police were getting closer as they advanced through the tunnels. Matt had to listen out for fleeing gang members, roaming police teams and any possible signs of the ballerina. it was exhausting, but only he could save her now. he was holding onto scraps of hope after avoiding close encounters with the police teams down here, when his foot scuffed something. metal, it made a nice ringing noise as it scraped across the concrete. he bent down, getting a feel of it, and realised with a start that it was the ballerina’s bracelet. he’d gifted it to her after one of her shows, he’d picked it out for her with Karen’s input one day. he’d know it anywhere, and this was definitely it. the ballerina was down here, she must’ve been. he tucked the bracelet away in his pocket, and kept walking the tunnel he was in. he was going to find her and bring her home safe. ⊱ ━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━ ⊰

messyyythoughts © 2022 do not translate without my permission, give credit if you repost, support always welcomed <3

#matt murdock fic #messyyythoughts #female!reader #will be using mattdad from this day forward #matt murdock being a dad #daredevil #marvel daredevil #marvel #marvel fic #marvel fanfiction #mattdad #ballerina!reader #reader is a ballerina #black and red #part one #black and red part one #we love matt murdock

[messyyythoughts]

chaos walking , part 3.

star wars: the bad batch x female chaos magic user

summary: after your first adventure with Clone Force 99, Kenobi needs your help. the Bad Batch step in to help when it’s clear you’ve pushed yourself too far this time. warnings: descriptions of physical injury, reader in pain as per usual tbh mando’a translations (http://mandoa.org/) jaro - death wish, insane act of reckless stupidity mesh’la - beautiful

part 1 part 2

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。..·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

“Kenobi, do you particularly need this damned cruiser?” You asked with a tight voice. The strain of trying to slow down an entire Republic cruiser starting to crush your body, and you knew you wouldn’t hold out much longer. You’d been called in by Kenobi to help save this cruiser from imminent destruction, and when one of the engines gave out, you took a hold of the entire ship, trying to help the pilots steer it. It hadn’t worked, and you’d ordered Kenobi and any non-essential personnel off the cruiser as you tried to save it. Right now, it wasn’t working, but you were still determined to try. The only thing that was driving you was the fact that there were still men on this cruiser who needed to evacuate before the whole thing crashed and burned at your hands. If you felt any of those connections go out, you’d never forget it.

“Well... yes, I do.” He replied, his voice tense. You could tell he was absolutely overwhelmed on his end. With a final moment of peace, you replied.

“I’m not making any promises. Evacuate the rest of this cruiser, give me a space to land on that planet.” His immediate protests came over the comms, you ignored them. He didn’t want you to do this on his own, but there was no other way. His voice was drowned out by the groaning and shaking of the cruiser. How you were managing to hold this weight… you didn’t even want to think about it. You’d be sick if anything other than the mission on hand came to mind. You didn’t even want to think about what the recovery was going to be like for this one, all you knew is that it was going to be grisly. You felt the evacuation pods leave the cruiser, and then concentrated all of your energy left into altering the path this cruiser was about to take in order to reach the nearest planet.

You went down to one knee, letting out a grunt as another wave of hot sweat and strong nausea overtook your body. Your hands were cramping up already, but you flexed them and the feeling subsided slightly. You attacked once more, putting everything you had into changing the path of the cruiser. You were fighting against gravity and physics and it was killing you. Every tiny movement, from an intake of breath to a shift of your knee, was putting you into agony for longer and longer. There was blood running down your face from your nose and mouth, you wiped it away clumsily, only to smear it across yourself. You had never attempted anything like this, you weren’t really sure if you could do it. If you managed to pull this off, you’d go down in the history books, if not, you’d lose an entire Republic cruiser and your life in the process. There was no mistaking it, you simply had to win.

There was a noise coming from behind you, something repetitive and vague. You focused in, trying to get your senses to cooperate. Everything was becoming blurred and hard to understand the longer you exerted yourself. Finally, you heard it. “Come in!” It was Hunter’s voice from behind you. Your head whipped to follow the sound, and you felt a burning sensation down your neck, and spine. “Damn it, will you say something?!” You stumbled over to the comms and used one shaking finger to hit the button. “Hunter?” You asked, with barely enough breath to speak. “What are you doing? There’s no possible way you can save that cruiser.” Tech butted in, you could practically hear him elbowing Hunter out of the way.

“I can do it,” You sputtered, “trust me.” Blood spilled from your mouth and you coughed, near to vomiting blood.

“We’re on our way to the ship, hold her steady for us.” Hunter said with a hard tone, meaning it was final. You’d learned that after your first mission with the Bad Batch, and they’d learned plenty of things about you too. It had been a whirlwind experience, but you felt like you’d do it again tomorrow if they asked you.

“No! You’ll die—” You started, but you were cut off by Wrecker’s voice.

“No, we’re coming to help. We’ll be there before you know it.” Your head slumped forward onto the desk and your powers went out like a light, before you quickly gained a hold of them and pulled the cruiser back on course for a crash landing. You had to crawl back to the bridge to get a central hold of the cruiser and feel the balance set back in. Your magic came back, and you had a steady hold on the cruiser once again. You took deep steadying breaths to align yourself, before closing your eyes and visualising the path to the planet as clearly as you could.

It was then that you felt a ship land on the cruiser, and you realised that they were here. Images flashed through your head of them, and you tried to not let it distract you. A glimpse of the future was not what you needed right now. What could only be called relief flooded through you, and you felt that nausea subside as four pairs of footsteps came rushing to you. What felt like hours of waiting had really only been five minutes before they burst onto the bridge. Tech made a beeline for the front control consoles and started pressing buttons and reading screens, as Crosshair and Hunter followed. Wrecker stood by your side, like a statue.

“Wrecker, I need you to get behind me and support my arms, it’s gonna be a lot, but you can do it.” You wheezed, as Wrecker knelt behind you and put your arms on top of his massive ones. You rested all of your weight on him, and he took it like a champ. “Maker, thank you.” You sighed in relief, almost brought to tears. Tech had the controls working together and the ship’s engines worked double time to steer towards the planet.

“I need to check your vitals, you’re bleeding enough to fill a bathtub.” Hunter broke off from Tech and Crosshair, putting his hands to your pulse on your neck and wrist. He was directly touching the chaos magic that was surrounding your hands, and didn’t flinch or pull away. He took your pulse, then started to wipe the blood from your face. “Her pulse and temp is sky high, we need to land this cruiser sooner rather than later, Tech.” Hunter called out. “You try steering a Republic cruiser that has one dead engine!” Tech retorted, meaning well, but coming off as heavily sarcastic, as always.

“I’m fine, just help me out will you?” You cried out, nearly collapsing onto Wrecker, but he stayed steady behind you like a foundation of a good house. Tech and Cross went haywire on the controls, setting them to this and that. The ship’s comms were suddenly alive with chatter, as the clones stationed on the planet were giving advice to Hunter on how to navigate the atmosphere and complete the crash landing. As Hunter relayed the information to Tech and Crosshair, Wrecker took on every bit of weight that you were dumping on him. It was a tense few minutes of loud noises, shouting orders and blood running until you broke the atmosphere. The cruiser started to shake and rumble as it broke the planet’s atmosphere, sending everyone on the bridge tumbling about with nothing to hold onto. You felt Wrecker grab onto a nearby console to hold your position, and you strained to stay in place. Your body temperature was getting higher and higher, you momentarily thought about making your clothes disintegrate, but then decided against it. You started to slow the descent of the cruiser by pulling back on it with all of your magic, your hands almost cramping into place with the force you were exerting. Chaos magic was spilling from your hands as bright as the stars, and had completely enclosed the cruiser, taking over all directional control of it. Wrecker’s massive hands carefully moved into place behind yours, and he held on, despite the rampant chaos magic coming from yours. You were holding back the most unhinged scream as the cruiser finally made contact with the planet’s surface, sending a reeling shockwave through you. You didn’t falter once as the planet’s debris flew up and collided with the cruiser, in fact it actually helped to slow the crash. The lights went out, leaving you in the dark, but you kept going with only the light from your hands to guide you now. You pulled and pulled until you were sure the cruiser was at a slow enough speed that it wouldn’t move on its own anymore. The screeching sound stopped, and it was replaced by a stark silence. Nobody moved. Your hands stayed in place, now totally still but empty of magic. Each member of the Bad Batch turned to look at you, no words at the ready, just a variation of stares. Kenobi’s voice came over the comms. You got up, every single inch of you about ready to implode, and pressed the button to answer.

“One cruiser, slightly used, but still in good condition.” You heard his chuckle in reply and smiled, blood dripping from your mouth. “You are never doing that again, I didn’t even ask you to save it!” Kenobi attempted to tell you off, but you shook your head, knowing that there was no way he could punish you for this one.

“Kiss my ass, General Kenobi, I’ll see you when you get down here.” You then let your head roll backwards and gave your body the signal to shut off for the recovery. Wrecker caught you, holding you to him in his arms, which hurt like nothing else from being in contact with your magic. Hunter’s hands also hurt, as if they’d been burned, but there was no damage done to them. You weren’t trying to actively harm either of them, so they’d escaped with minimal injury. Sometimes you had control over the magic, and it seemed like you had won today in more than one respect. .·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。..·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。. The Bad Batch loyally guarded and stubbornly stayed by your bedside for weeks. You’d fallen into a coma, of your own doing, and this wasn’t the first time either. It had happened on a few rare occasions before, as witnessed by both Kenobi and Skywalker, but they’d never seen you in such a bad way this time. Each of them came to visit, both having to convince the Bad Batch that they knew you and meant no harm, which proved more difficult than they expected. Being Generals of the Republic’s army meant nothing to the Bad Batch, as it so happened. Kenobi was stopped at the door for being the one who ordered you to save the cruiser, even though you’d done it of your own accord, and once he had explained this he was allowed entry. He dutifully brushed out your hair as you lay there asleep, and braided it slowly to make sure there were no knots or tangles. The Bad Batch watched him with a veiled interest, Tech especially, as he had never seen you wear your hair like this before. Kenobi updated you on all of the clone battalions that he knew of, some were stationed too far away to receive any real updates on, so he promised to check on them for you when he had a spare moment. After Kenobi had sorted out your hair, he washed your face and neck with a cloth and warm water. He made sure to get every spot, gentle as ever, talking to you the entire time. He knew that you could sense his energy nearby, and that you’d be thankful he’d been there when you finally awoke. He then told the lingering Bad Batch that after your first coma, you’d awoken in fits of screams and delirium, claiming that no one had sat with you and talked to you the whole time you were out. It was true, apart from the odd visit from Skywalker who’d been the closest one to you when it happened. Kenobi and Ahsoka had been too far away to come and visit, but they were just as horrified when they heard the news through Skywalker. So, from that moment, the Bad Batch had one of them sat by your side. Tech made a habit of reading out his notes to you from when he’d studied you, and once he got through those, he moved onto hefty textbooks of theories and hard science. It bored the others to sleep without fail each time, but inside you were clinging onto Tech’s voice like it was a rope and you were dangling above a dark pit. Even though you would never fully understand what he was saying, it made you feel like you weren’t totally alone. When it was Hunter’s turn to sit next to you, he took to drawing on your arms and palms. He used a washable ink pen and would decorate your exposed skin with whatever was in his head at the time, he’d even talk you through the meanings of the drawings, no matter how nonsensical it sounded. He always made sure to put the names of the Bad Batch in there somewhere, and yours. It was often the medical droid’s job to wash the ink away after Hunter had been sat by your side all day. Wrecker liked telling you his favourite stories of battle, and he had a new one each time he sat by you for the day. Some of them were so outlandish that even Tech questioned him sometimes, but you were enjoying the stories regardless. Wrecker was a great storyteller, using his tone and strange sound effects to bring the story to life for you. He knew exactly how to create tension and suspension by waiting a few seconds before telling the climax of the story, or a twist to the plot. Crosshair always criticised Wrecker’s stories for being inaccurate to the truth, but you didn’t care. When Crosshair sat next to you, however, he struggled to do so much... talking. He tried reading something out once, but it sounded bad, and he stopped abruptly. He found something else to do instead, he would draw out battle plans on your arm with his fingers. He could see it all in his head, it just needed finalising on your forearm or the palm of your hand. He’d explain some parts to you before grumbling and starting over again because he wanted to try something else. He even used little paper clones once to really simulate the battle for you on your arm and hand, which made the others smirk, but Crosshair paid them no attention. Skywalker’s visit had been a tense one. He nearly scrapped on the spot with Crosshair trying to gain entry to your room, but Hunter let him through. When he saw you, his face went icy, and he took a seat next to you. The words he spoke were too low for anyone but Hunter to hear, but he chose to ignore them when he got the idea of what Skywalker was saying. Skywalker stayed there for a while, holding your hand in his, eyes closed. An eerie quiet had settled in your room, and the Bad Batch soon found themselves finding excuses to leave. They didn’t go far, only down the hallway, but whatever mood Skywalker was in, they did not feel like tussling with him right now. Kenobi had been somber, but respectful, Skywalker was fuming and looking for a reason to fight. Someone needed to get him back out to the battlefield soon otherwise he’d start going for his own men. But, after an hour or so, he up and left your room without a word to the Bad Batch. They came back in to see you unmoved, asleep just as you had been when they left you. Now, they just had to pass the time until you woke up. .·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。..·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。. “That woman has a jaro, I’m telling you.” Hunter said with a shake of his head. The Bad Batch had been discussing your other greatest feats, and Tech was readily compiling a list for further debate. “Who just decides to stop a cruiser like that?” Hunter carried on, “no one but her.” He scoffed. Crosshair watched the conversation in silent interest, having already found a new respect for you after witnessing you successfully crash land the cruiser. “I think the cruiser is my favourite one, I helped with that one.” Wrecker announced from your bedside, having paused his wild story to give his opinion. “Wrecker, your personal involvement does not contribute to the greatness of the feat.” Tech sighed, tapping away at his pad. Wrecker shrugged before continuing his story. Crosshair was about to interject when the ship’s internal alarms started going off, signalling that the enemy was approaching. A rush of footsteps from the clones going to their stations went past, and then a rumble went throughout the ship. They’d been hit. “We need to get her ready to move if this ship goes down.” Hunter shot out of his seat, only to find that your eyes were opening, and you were sitting up in your bed. “Maker above...” “Are we seriously getting attacked right now?” You sighed, getting out of bed and heading for the door with renewed energy. They all watched on in absolute disbelief, before scrambling out of the door to follow you. You moved fast at full health, they had to jog to keep up. You reached the bridge, being greeted with applause, which you quickly silenced with a single finger to your lips. “I can’t be in a coma for more than a few weeks and we’re getting bombed by the enemy? Really, guys?” You shook your head. Your messy braid was coming undone where none of the Bad Batch had dared to take it out after Kenobi had so carefully done it. “Give me a visual someone.” You called out, body positively thrumming with the need to get out there and rip some people apart. “Uh, excuse us,” Tech pushed past the crowd of clones on the bridge, and tapped you on the shoulder, “are you quite alright?” You nodded with a wink. The clones had identified the oncoming enemy pilots for you. With little more than a bent finger and a wisp of chaos, you sent the ships tumbling through space into balls of flame, veering off course and missing their shots entirely. You got a rush from this, no matter how many times you did it, because the clones around you were safe and you were taking out the very thing that would kill them. “Mesh’la...” Wrecker said behind you, as he watched the firework display of ships exploding and plummeting to their demise. You didn’t even need both hands, just one finger. The first wave had been entirely demolished, and the second wave was already retreating, much to your disappointment. Maybe you went too hard on the first ones, scared them off. It wouldn’t be the first time. You lowered your finger, smiling in satisfaction as the clones cheered. Nothing made you happier than seeing them alive, and winning. You turned to leave, and when Hunter asked where you were going now, you told him that unless the new uniform was a hospital gown, you were getting a change of clothes. .·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。..·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。. messyyythoughts © 2022 do not translate without my permission, give credit if you repost, support always welcomed <3

#messyyythoughts #injury detail #description of injury #chaos magic #chaos magic reader #female!reader #chaos witch #chaos walking #chaosmagicuser!reader #chaoswitch!reader

[messyyythoughts]

i saw your ballerina/matt murdock fic and i absolutely loved it. will you write more mattdad fics?

ABSOLUTELY! AND I THANK YOU SO MUCH <3

I am so so so glad you asked this because it is one of my favourite fics I’ve ever written, yet it didn’t get as much love as some of my other posts. another one will definitely be in the works now!

watch this space… :)

#messyyythoughts #marvel #daredevil #matt murdock fic #matt Murdock #mattdad #will be using mattdad from this day forward #marvel daredevil #female!reader #nelson and murdock #thank you anon #ily

[messyyythoughts]

wow wow wow! 100 reblogs :))) thank you everyone with all my heart <3 

i’m so glad that ppl are enjoying what i put on this little blog, hopefully there’s many more milestones to come in the future!

thank you again, messy xoxo

#thank you #messyyythoughts #fanfic #fanfic writer #100 reblog

[messyyythoughts]

priestess, part 1.

marvel Moon Knight Khonshu x female reader

author’s note: this is not related to any other moon knight posts I have made previously! love you all loads, bye :)

summary: your eyes have always been able to see things that no one else has. it has caused you strife as a child, and now your family rarely speak to you, believing you to be insane after you refused treatment of any kind. in actual fact, you just have a gift. a gift that has blessed you to interact with the supernatural, all kinds of them.

warnings: social exclusion, attempted SA, physical violence, BIG SCARY BIRD GOD.

part 2

.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ ..·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ ..·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .

you had a distinct memory of when you were a child, and you woke up from a nightmare in your bedroom, only to find the very thing you’d been trying to wake from staring at you in the face. you had screamed, and your parents came running, only to find nothing there and you were just scared of the things you’d seen in your sleep. except now you were wide awake and the things were still there. over the years, these things came and went, occasionally you’d have to ask some poor stranger if they could see anything just to ensure you weren’t lying to yourself. eventually, you learned to stop asking, and to trust yourself. you often regarded that as your first mistake. it became increasingly clear to your family and close friends, when you had them in your life, that you weren’t... normal. you’d talk to yourself, have awful mood swings, appear frightened to death at nothing. the few times you did admit what was scaring you, you were met with concerned looks and whispered promises of ‘getting you help’. there was an awful moment you couldn’t seem to escape the memory of, where you came home from school after a particularly hard day and your parents had arranged for you to be taken to a ‘safe place’ away from your home, so you could be treated and hopefully be cured of this ‘illness’ that had been plaguing you since you were little. that very night you packed up everything you had and snuck out, taking the next bus out of town, and to anywhere that wasn’t home. you didn’t consider that place home anymore, you made that clear in the letter you’d written to your parents and left in the kitchen. from that point on you looked after yourself, living in youth hostels for a few years, before getting a real job and hopping between roommates and acquaintances’ places before you could afford a small place of your own. now, as an adult, you were simply existing. you hadn’t heard from any old friends or your own parents in years, and that told you all you needed to know. as for the things you could see? you learned to live with it. you spoke to the ones you frequently saw and most of them talked back. they didn’t scare you, and you posed no threat to them. those things did their business and you carried on working your ass off to pay bills and afford food. you had no real friends that you regularly met up with or spoke to, not even work friends, it was just you and your things. most of the things were... nice. well, they were never hostile towards you without a bloody good reason, and you didn’t make a habit of intentionally offending the things if you could help it. it wasn’t until you decided to treat yourself to a day at the museum that your life with the things changed. there was a stunning Ancient Egypt exhibition at the museum, and you’d indulged in topics such as history even after leaving formal education. so, you got the bus, and made a day out of it. you had lunch in a new cafe, walked about in a part of London that you hadn’t really visited before, and arrived at the museum. there were guided tours operating, but you didn’t fancy one of those. no, you enjoyed being alone and going at your own pace. that was how you’d done things for years now, so why change it? the displays were certainly interesting. you had headphones in to block out any distracting sounds from any nearby things as you ambled around the museum in relative peace. it wasn’t until you reached a quiet part of the exhibition that you felt something watching you. oh no, not someone, something. and that meant one thing, and one thing only. before you confronted the new thing, and you knew it was a new thing because none of the old things stared at you for so long and didn’t speak, you reminded yourself of the best way to approach new things. when you had first moved to London to escape your family, you had encountered a whole host of new things. each time you met a new thing with fragility and anxiety, they looked down on you, until you made it clear you had no real fear of them much later down the line. so, there was only one true way to confront the new thing. “are you quite done staring at me?” you asked, pulling your headphones out and catching the reflection of the new thing in the display case. oh, Lord above. what was that. it was distinctly different from any other things you’d met in London before, that was certain. maybe it originated from elsewhere, and was just visiting? many things traversed across Earth freely, but many stayed in their origin country, you had found out. “you can see me?” it asked, its voice impossibly deep. it echoed menacingly off the walls of the room, adding to your growing fear. but, you didn’t show it. “very much so, I’m afraid.” you turned around to finally look at it in the face. it didn’t really have a face, just a bird skull that floated ominously above where its neck should be. lovely. “fascinating.” it disappeared from your line of sight,  and you felt every move it made, to eventually sit on top of the display case behind you. with an eye roll, you slowly turned around to face it, again. “you are mortal, yes?” it asked, leaning into you, as if it would help it see better. there was a distinct lack of eyeballs in its skull, just to add to the oddity of the gesture. “indeed, what a keen observation.” you made a show of staring at it with a bored expression before moving to the next item on display. it followed, on foot this time, its staff banging on the floor with each step it took. “you are a smart one. I like the smart ones.” it overtook you and blocked your path, but you simply ducked underneath its arm that was holding the staff, and carried on observing the displays. “do you know who I am?” it asked, watching you. its gaze was burning holes in you, at least that’s what you felt. “no, but I assume you are something supernatural, as that is what I am able to see.” you replied coolly, hoping your beating heart wasn’t giving you away. the thing crouched down next to you and tilted its head. “Khonshu, Egyptian God of the Moon.” your heart dropped, and you immediately knew what you were expected to do. it was good that no one else was around, because you were fully aware how mental this was going to look. with an inward sigh, you bowed deeply towards Khonshu, before daring to make eye contact. bold of you, considering the fact he was a literal Egyptian God just wandering around a museum, and had chosen to cast his eye on you today. “forgive me your Holiness,” you could practically feel his ego skyrocketing, “I did not know it was you.” you returned to your full height, as did Khonshu. “will that suffice, or will you throw a temper tantrum?” you asked, smirking to yourself but hiding it from him. “that will suffice. I like you, mortal woman with wit.” you scoffed before walking on, and leaving the God in the museum.

.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ ..·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ ..·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .

the next few weeks were very strange. whenever you returned home from work your flat was surprisingly cool for the height of summer in a crowded maze such as London. your skirts and dresses never got blown up by the wind when you went out, which was something you normally stressed about. you found the stars shone brighter when you stared at them, and the moonlight found you much easier than it ever had before. it wasn’t until you were walking home late one night that you realised you had a lingering companion. “good evening Khonshu, how was your day?” you said, casually, as you spotted the God in a shop window. he was walking behind you but now was at your side. “what sort of feeble question is that, mortal woman?” he spat, shaking his bird skull head. you shrugged and carried on walking. you went to make a turn down an alleyway as a shortcut, but Khonshu’s staff blocked your way. “not that way, mortal, not today.” you took the stern message and carried on walking the usual, and longer, way home. upon arriving home, you put down the bags you had been hauling around all day after doing some necessary shopping, and opened the windows in your flat. almost immediately a beautiful breeze came through, and you let out a relieved groan. “you didn’t answer my question.” you said as Khonshu stood menacingly in the middle of your flat. it was as if he’d never seen a flat before. “my day was...” he was looking for a word, you could see it in his stance. “nothing special.” you nodded, and sat down for a moment on your pristine couch. “at least it wasn’t a bad day.” you replied, throwing an arm over your face in an attempt to cool down some more. “aren’t you going to return the question?” you asked, a knowing grin on your face as Khonshu answered exactly as you expected him to. “don’t make me laugh, mortal, with such silly imaginings.” you let out a little self indulgent chuckle before getting up, and tackling the task of putting food away in your tiny kitchen. as you unpacked the shopping bags, you found that certain cupboards were blown open by the wind, and then shut again when you were done with them. your bags were then gently blow off the counter and into the corner by the front door where you kept them. as if the wind couldn’t be more helpful today! with your hands on your hips, you turned to face Khonshu. “I appreciate the assistance, but isn’t this a little below your Godly duties?” Khonshu was now lounging on your sofa. the cheek of it. “what are you on about, mortal? there is a breeze tonight, that is all.” with that he disappeared from your line of sight and you didn’t see him for the rest of the night.

.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ ..·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ ..·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .

this same routine happened like clockwork over the next few months. the heat died down and autumn arrived with force. you disliked the colder weather, it wasn’t fun at all for you. the darker the days got, the more things you swore became visible, but you knew it was your head making up silly lies. just like it always had when you were younger, and more naive to this supernatural world. Khonshu would follow you home like a loyal dog each night, and do something remotely helpful before vanishing. sometimes you managed to ensnare him to stay for longer, but he usually left before you were asleep. you had noticed that whenever you changed clothes or were in the bathroom, he didn’t follow, or look. so, he had decency at least. even when you were wearing shorter and more ‘revealing’ clothes in the summer, he still spoke to you while looking at your eyes. you never caught him looking at anything else. not that he would bother to, as he was a God, and far above you, but even Gods had human traits. this became abundantly clear when you were invited out on a work party one weekend. you were so often left out of these events that you were quite thrilled to be asked, and even more excited when you treated yourself to a new dress for the occasion. you arrived home from work early, Khonshu not appearing to walk you, but you didn’t mind, and started getting ready. you felt so electric that nothing could possibly dampen your mood. did this invitation mean that you had been likeable for once at work? did your coworkers finally see you as a normal person? oh, you could care less, because you were finally going out! just as you were about to open the front door to catch the bus on time, Khonshu appeared. “and where have you been, mortal?” he asked, almost accusingly. “I’m going out tonight, with people from work.” you replied excitedly. “I’ve actually been invited out!” you slipped on your barely worn shoes that you had purchased years ago for this exact situation, and went to leave. a cold hand on your shoulder stopped you in your tracks. “are you sure this is wise?” Khonshu asked, slowly. your face dropped, and you turned to face him. you suddenly felt quite small, stupid almost. “yes. yes, I’m sure.” you replied, voice quiet. Khonshu rarely questioned you so calmly. he was normally loud and immature when going against you, but this reminded you of when he stopped you from taking that shortcut when you had just met him. he was serious, and that unnerved you. “then enjoy yourself. I will watch from afar with the stars.” with that, he was gone, and your door closed softly with a breeze. heart thumping, you still left your building and caught the bus on time, determined to go. when you arrived at the location specified by your coworkers, you found it quiet for a weekend night. maybe it was a hidden gem of London nightlife, frequented by your coworkers, and now you. you religiously checked your phone every five minutes to see if any of your coworkers had dropped you a message to say they were on the way, or about to arrive. your heart got a bit heavy when half an hour passed and no one had showed, or made contact yet, but you held out hope. they could’ve missed the bus, had trouble getting ready, or gotten lost. the bartender asked if you wanted another drink an hour in, and you nodded silently. they didn’t ask if you were expecting company, because it was clear that you’d been stood up. you thanked the bartender for your second drink, and watched other groups pass by from the huge floor to ceiling windows. you sipped the drink absently, trying to stop the tears from falling, at least while you were still out in public. your eyes cast a glance at the time on your phone, and you saw that it had been almost two hours since the others were supposed to be here. maybe it was time to give in, go home, get some sleep– it was then that you saw them, stumbling past the bar, laughing and chatting with each other. you sat up, expectantly, only for them to spot you. one of them pointed, the others turned their heads, and they all started laughing. at you. alone, in a quiet bar, like a damned fool. before you could stop it, a single tear escaped your eyes, and you clutched your phone in your sweaty hands, nerves jumping all over your body. you thought you were going to be sick. eventually, they moved on, but you could still hear their laughs. you gave the bartender the money for your measly two drinks, and slid off the stool with a heart of heavy stone and head full of screams. the door blew open before you could reach out to push it, and you stepped out with shaking legs and arms. the embarrassment was clear on your face like a badly matched foundation shade. you could just about make out your coworkers at the end of the street, probably still discussing you. you took a shaky inhale, and felt as if you could just explode there and then on the street. a mighty gust of wind rushed past, travelling down the street at an impossibly high speed, blowing almost all of your coworkers into the road. a few of them were in the path of oncoming cars, but they were unharmed. you felt a rush of satisfaction as they all screamed in surprise, then walked on, finally silenced of their hideous laughter. “just say the word, and they all get blown in front of a much larger vehicle travelling at a much faster speed.” Khonshu said lowly from behind you. you opened your mouth, the words right there, on the very tip of your tongue. you craved that feeling of revenge deep down, but your voice had shrivelled up and died. “I’m going home.” you croaked, wiping away more tears, before walking towards the bus stop. you took off your nice shoes, and held them in your shaking hands. Khonshu followed you home, even as you miserably wept on the bus at the very back, all alone. you nearly missed your stop, but Khonshu alerted you and the driver stopped just in time. you got off, and started the stupid walk home. raindrops started falling, and you were almost grateful for it. it disguised the fact you were nearly sobbing at how tonight had played out. you wanted nothing more than to burn this dress, and throw these shoes out of the window, and scrape this makeup from your skin. the rain was doing a fair job of the makeup part, as it got heavier and louder around you. you could barely hear Khonshu’s words. quick footsteps sounded from behind, and a pair of arms had you off the ground and going backwards in seconds. you went to scream, but they were dragging you down that same alleyway you had avoided months ago. your screams wouldn’t be heard now, not with the rain and the alleyway obscuring any noise. your screams were lost in the darkness, they died against the bricks. Khonshu was nowhere to be seen as you fought against the person, who now had you at the back of the alley. they let you go, only to throw you against the brick wall, and hold you by the throat. you were trapped between a grimy brick wall, and the hooded attacker. they started searching your person for any valuables, but then resorted to ripping your dress off. fear like nothing you had ever felt started to rise. you let out a piercing scream as you lifted up your legs and kicked as hard as you could. their body went backwards, their grip gone, and you were free. they came back at you, though, and with seconds to spare, you started running. you were nearly at the street when they grabbed your hair and dragged you back towards them, grunting with the effort. you reached up behind you, acting purely on some innate instinct, and dug your fingers into their eyes. you hit home, and they reeled back. that was it, you had the upper hand. there was a rush overtaking you, something evil, something pent up and awful. those years of teasing, insults, exclusion, pain, hurt, fear. it all came rushing to you, clouding your senses. the pinpricks of rain on your frozen skin were no longer hurting you. one strap of your dress was broken, hanging on for dear life, and your personal things were abandoned by the bus stop where you’d been snatched. you had no weapons, but you still had your own body. you threw off your soaked jacket, and used the rainwater to push your hair back off of your face. the attacker was still stumbling from your impromptu eye removal surgery, so you took the chance. something else had overtaken you entirely. you suddenly knew what to do. you closed the distance, still barefoot, in the pouring rain, and grabbed the attacker by their hoodie. you landed repeated punches to their face, the mask they’d worn slipping, and revealing more skin to bruise. you heard a gorgeously loud crack as you shattered their nose, and watched as the blood poured down their face in two streams. even though they had stopped fighting back, you kept going. you had more to do yet, you drew up to your full height, and aimed several kicks at their chest. you hoped one of them would stop their heart, but you knew better. they were barely moving now, so you grabbed a fistful of their hoodie, and slammed their head into the ground a few times. they finally went limp. having retrieved your belongings, all of them, you sprinted home. that rush had long left you, and all of a sudden, Khonshu was visible to you again. his voice was drowned out by the rain and your heartbeat pounding in your head, but when you finally got into your flat, you could hear him. “are you harmed? what did they do?” you started taking off your sodden clothing, but he stopped you with a hand on your chest. he pushed you to the door, your back against it. it shook you a little, made you stop and think. “tell me if you are harmed.” his voice was strained as he spoke to you. he then did something you had never heard him do before. he said your name, your actual name, and knelt before you. “I am unharmed, just scared.” you replied, falling to your knees before him with relief. even kneeling, he still boasted height over you. at least he was here now, he could keep you safe. “I ask only for your protection, Khonshu, for tonight. please.” you begged, not daring to meet his gaze as you had before. there were several beats of silence, only rain against the window, and your heavy breathing. Khonshu then lifted your head with his hand, and looked straight at you. “I want to offer you something, it is protection, but it is also much more than that.” your head span with many things. a withdrawal of adrenaline from the attack, a horrid torrent of feelings from your coworkers, and an overwhelming need to be safe for once in your own world. “I offer you the position of the first priestess, which grants you my protection, my power and much more.” you stared at Khonshu, still hyper aware of his hand underneath your chin. “I have never offered any mortal this before because they have not been worthy, but after seeing you tonight, your suffering... it is something I can no longer watch.” fresh tears were coming, but Khonshu didn’t remark on them. “you have proved yourself to be worthy of taking such a position, and I offer it to you, and only you.” your throat was dry, what on Earth did you say to something like this? “will you accept the offer?” he said your name, again. it made your head spin and your heart stutter. you let your pain get the better of you, and spoke the next words from your damaged heart. “I accept your gracious offer, Khonshu.” you said, closing your eyes as he let go of your face. “very well, be prepared for what is to come.” he stood up, banged his staff on the floor, and you felt the most uplifting force take hold of you. it invaded every nerve, every cell, every inch of your body. your world went bright white for just a moment, and then you were asleep.

.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ ..·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ ..·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .

messyyythoughts © 2022 do not translate without my permission, give credit if you repost, support always welcomed <3

#IF YOU CAN'T FIND ANY YOU GOTTA MAKE IT YOURSELF #DON'T COME FOR ME #khonshu #marvel moon knight #disney plus moon knight #moon knight #steven grant #marc spector #god of the moon #egyptian deities #gods of egypt #egypt #marvel #khonshu moon knight #female!reader #priestess #khonshu's priestess #he protecc he attacc but most importantly he got reader's back #messyyythoughts

[messyyythoughts]

her voice.

marvel Matt Murdock x female reader

author’s note: an idea I had while listening to ASMR the other day, and subsequently saw a Matt Murdock edit on TikTok so... this was born! 

summary: you, the reader, decides to do something sweet, and unusual, when you leave for a long work trip and won’t be able to be with Matt, your partner :) I hope you enjoy <3

warnings: none!!! soft as a cloud.

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if there was one thing that Matt Murdock loved about you that wasn’t your personality, it was your voice. he wanted to bottle it up sometimes, just so he could listen to it all day when you weren’t around. knowing how he felt about your voice, as much as you hated the sound of it some days, you decided to do something before a month long work trip. it wasn’t exactly revolutionary, but maybe it would work. you let Matt pick out a book he liked the sound of. it was something you both liked doing on your days off, the city’s bookstores were well known by both of you. you then took the book home with you, hoping that Matt wouldn’t notice. you swore the man could sense just about everything, so it took some effort to be as sneaky as you could. that evening, you began your plan. each night, whenever you had some free time between working in the daytime and seeing Matt in the evenings, you recorded yourself reading the book chapter by chapter in the most calming voice possible. it definitely took a few takes. quite a few, actually. some recordings were easier to do than others, some nights you were so tired that you almost dropped off reading the book yourself. other nights you read so many chapters that your voice went rough and you had to put the book down for another night. whenever you listened over the recordings, you couldn’t help but cringe a little, that self doubt creeping into your mind. still, you persisted.  by the time your work trip came around, you had the recordings edited to flow perfectly and put onto a special tape for Matt. you’d gifted him a tape player in the past, specifically because he liked dancing in his apartment with you to loud music when the world got too much. you knew the tape would be compatible, you just hoped that he’d appreciate it, enjoy it, maybe. he dropped you off at the airport before your flight, and you pressed the tape into his hands before leaving for the gate. it had a note taped to it, obviously written in braille, (you weren’t that cruel) and left him to figure out what to do with it.

➽───────────────❥

that night, Matt returned home, and kept running his fingers over that note. ‘hope my voice doesn’t bore you to sleep, I guess we’ll see. I love you, and I’ll see you when I get back. — your lover’ you always signed off notes and phone calls saying you were his lover. he loved it. you loved it. it was your thing. so, when he prepared himself for bed, and his curiosity finally got the better of him, he read the note again and inserted the tape into the player. he waited, heart beating slightly faster at the thought of you doing something special for him. then, like a surprise kiss, your voice floated out of the player.

“hi lover, you know who it is.” a wide smile spread across his face. “I never did read that book to you, so I’ve recorded myself reading each chapter instead. something to keep you entertained while I’m away, hopefully.” his chest was fluttering like he was a teenager again. “there’s no better place to start than at the beginning, so, get into bed and imagine me next to you. it might help you drift off easier.” with a turn of the page, which sent tingles down his spine, you cleared your throat and got comfortable. he could hear you rustling about to get into the prime reading position. “sorry, trying to get comfy.” you half whispered, half laughed to yourself. and, if he could’ve put that sound on a constant loop in his brain, he would’ve. it was exactly how you laughed to yourself when you were being silly but felt awkward about it. he could get drunk on it every single night of his natural life. Matt was all tucked up in bed, the remote for the player on his bedside table, just in case he needed to rewind and hear your voice in a certain way again. you started with chapter one, and by the start of chapter two, Matt was so deep in sleep that he would miss his first morning alarm.

➽───────────────❥

for each night you were away, Matt occupied himself with either being a mask-wearing vigilante of Hell’s Kitchen or listening to you reading. sometimes he managed to fit both in to his cramped evening routine. whenever he was having homemade dinner (or takeout) or dealing with a work issue, your voice was in the background, reading away. the book only had 30 or so chapters, so he was trying not to listen to it all in one go. but, he missed you, your voice, your presence. even the nightly phone call wasn’t enough when he checked up on you in your hotel room. even when you had given Matt a full rundown of your day, with all of the details, the ins and outs of the conferences and dinners, he still wanted to stay on the phone with you. it was only through convincing him to get some sleep that he’d let you hang up, but he’d go straight to the player and switch it on. once your voice came floating out, reaching him in his bedroom, he would slip into sleep so easily that he forgot you were away for a moment. only a moment, though. ➽───────────────❥

when you returned, a month down the line after endless phone calls and long distance conversations, Matt couldn’t wait to hear the real sound of your voice. the recordings were great, the best idea you’d had since kissing him on your long awaited first date after endless flirting and hinting at the office, but he had sorely missed and ached for the sound of your real, unfiltered voice once again. he arrived earlier than needed. he wanted to be right there on time and ready for you. he waited for your flight to land, strolling around the airport aimlessly, listening out for the gate numbers. he was about to sit down and get a cup of something hot when he heard your gate number. his heart jumped a little, before he made his way over. he knew your scent and your gait from a mile off, he had it etched into his brain. he memorised it the first time you met, like how he’d thought about your voice many times over that same day as he heard it around the office. you and Karen had been really conversational on that first day, quietly chatting as not to disturb Foggy of course, but Matt had listened to every word you said. he hung onto it like it was the last time he was going to hear it. even when you were telling Matt about your day, he listened properly, stopped whatever he was doing and just drank in the sound of your voice. it could be the most mundane day ever, and yet he just adored hearing you talk. he picked up on all the little tone changes, the pauses, the way you wet your lips mid-sentence sometimes. he especially loved hearing you laugh, whether it be a restrained giggle or a full on unexpected laughing fit. he really loved it when you told him old stories of your days in school or from your hometown, especially ones that made you laugh. it made him laugh too. now, as you walked towards the sight of Matt, your worn old suitcase bouncing on its wheels behind you, he could feel the smile on your face. he started towards you, and when you met in the middle, he picked you up and held you so tight to him that you thought he’d never let go. “hey lover,” you sighed, “you miss me as bad as I missed you?” he put you down but didn’t let go, instead he just soaked up that voice of yours. “I think the tape helped,” Matt told you, and a smug smile spread across your face. you were jet-lagged, tired out and bored of business dinners, but Matt made you the happiest person alive. “but nothing compares to the real thing.” his hands gently came up to your face, and skimmed over your skin and features. you let him do it, it was something he often reserved for private moments, but he’d had to put up without you for a month so you let him be. when he was done, you did it back, as you always did. he felt the same, which gave you such relief. you couldn’t imagine how relieved he felt when he realised nothing had changed about you. “I’m sick of fancy dinners, can we get the cheapest, greasiest takeout available in Hell’s Kitchen tonight? please?” you asked as the pair of you navigated your way out of the airport and into a waiting taxi. “for you, anything.” Matt replied, opening the passenger door and letting you slip inside before he followed suit. you were so glad to be back, but Matt was even more glad that he could hear your voice again.

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messyyythoughts © 2022 do not translate without my permission, give credit if you repost, support always welcomed <3

#daredevil #marvel daredevil #matt murdock #matthew murdock #our fave vigilante #marvel #messyyythoughts #matt murdock x reader #female!reader #matt murdock fic #mini fic #marvel mini fic #marvel fic

[messyyythoughts]

a helping hand.

marvel Matt Murdock x female chaos witch reader

summary: you’ve been casually seeing a rather charming lawyer for a few months now, but something makes you feel uneasy about him and his lifestyle… he’s out an awful lot at nighttime for a blind man in NYC.

warnings: reader using chaos magic (she wasn’t very nice about it), minor injury detail

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃ ᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

“hey Karen,” you put on your phone voice when you pressed answer, “you okay?” Karen’s panicked and breathless voice crackled through your phone. “oh my goodness, thank God you picked up!” the relief in her voice was tangible. “it’s Matt, we think he’s in trouble, can you help us find him?” your heart started to pick up a little at that sentence. you and Matt weren’t super serious, but you liked the guy, he’d been good to you. you felt inclined to help. “text me your address and I’ll be there as soon as I can, don’t panic, okay? I’m on my way.” you hung up, grabbing your nearest coat and suitable pair of shoes on the way out of the front door. moments later, a text message from Karen pops up on your phone screen. she said to meet her at the office, asap. your chest was getting tight, you needed to restrain that worry and distress for later, when you had the chance to safely disperse it. you ended up hailing a cab halfway there, and when you got into the barely lit office, Karen was downing coffees and Foggy looked tired. very tired. maybe this was a more dire situation than you expected… “she’s here,” Foggy handed you a cup with something hot in it. “listen up, we can’t contact Matt, we know he tried to follow up on some dodgy case and we’re worried. seriously worried.” you gently probed Foggy’s mind, gathering all of the information you needed. “I still think we should all go out and be looking for him—” Karen directed this at Foggy, but he cut her off. “it’s better if me and you stay together, we work best as a team. we have our backup here just in case anything goes seriously wrong.” Foggy nodded at you when he said this. you nodded back and Karen went silent, not pleased with Foggy’s planning. “or, here’s a crazy idea,” you finished your hot drink and returned the mug to its rightful place, “I go to this address, just have a little look, and come straight back if there’s no sign of Matt. I’ve got self defence training and a self defence keychain, before either of you ask.” you held up the keychain as proof. Foggy stared at it, Karen definitely wanted one of her own. when neither of them objected, you headed for the door and called back over your shoulder. “if I ring either one of you, call the police straight away.” and with that, you left.

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃ ᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃ here it was. a damp, dilapidated and dark warehouse. Matt was apparently last known to be skulking around here for a case the firm recently took on. you stuffed the self defence keychain in your coat pocket, knowing you wouldn’t need it in the slightest. you could sense several life forms within the building, not many, but enough to ensure that things could go terribly wrong if you made the wrong move. you entered through a lower floor, using a window that had a severe lack of glass, framing and everything, really. once inside, you closed your eyes, and invaded the minds of the people inside of the building, including Matt’s. you could sense that he felt it, too. you had to be careful. you’d gone this long without revealing anything, now was not the time to mess that up. the first few people were guarding the first floor. you had an easy job taking them out as they were spread around. small, controlled bursts of chaos dispatched the guards, not a single one of them heard a thing. the second floor was harder. more people, better armed, patrolling in pairs. you saw one way around this. it was going to be loud. that was okay, you liked loud, sometimes. sneaking up the stairs, you came across the first pair of guards. taking one last calm breath, your hands began to grow hotter with your chaos generating. when you were sure you had just the right amount, you started moving your fingers. then, you let go. you threw them to the side, both slamming into a brick wall and going unconscious. you listened out, sensing footsteps coming your way. someone had heard. good. finally revealing yourself, more chaos ready, you had the next pair by the throats and choking for air in seconds. you threw them out of the window and caught sight of another pair out the corner of your eye. you outstretched one arm, evenly dividing the chaos between your two hands, and held them against a wall, busy with the pair currently on their way to the window. one fired haphazardly at you, missing, but only just. you dropped the choking pair against the brick wall, finally shoving the window pair out of said window. your attention turned to the remaining pair, now getting to their feet. they shot repeatedly at you, determined to land a hit. you were only being guarded by a concrete pillar, and those clips had to empty soon. your hands grew hot again, firing up the chaos. you heard them pause from firing, and stepped out, getting a clear line of sight before you dragged them both to you with a pulling motion and had them in each hand, choking harder now than they had been before. you were sure you heard their spines pop before you dropped them. good. you listened out, sensing for any heartbeats, any last breaths, dying pulses. a few quiet seconds told you that everyone you had dealt with was now dead. it was now you and one other person alive in this building, and he was nearby. he had definitely heard you... who hadn’t? with adrenaline keeping your senses sharp, you moved through the darkened warehouse to find Matt tied up, but he was dressed rather… differently, than you’d expected. his face was covered by a black mask, the same went for his body, entirely clothed in black. now that you could see him clearly, you waved your hand and the restraints fell from his hands. he was on his feet in seconds. “it’s only me, don’t panic.” you had your hands out ready, just in case he wasn’t registering the situation clearly, but he was relaxed. “I know it’s you.” he simply replied. “how?” you asked, careful not to go too deep into his mind as he stood there, fists clenched loosely at his sides. he was covered in dust, and sweaty. clearly the other guys had won the fight. “I heard you coming, amongst other things.” he muttered. “good to know. care to explain any of this?” you asked, waving a hand in the air. “you’re bleeding.” he suddenly said, moving towards you. “what?” it was only when he was knelt at your side did you register that a bullet must’ve grazed you. “oh.” you said in disappointment. “that’s it?” you pulled up your shirt and craned your neck to look at the injury. it was only skin deep, but it had torn some flesh off for sure. there was minimal blood loss for now. “this... you need to go to a hospital.” Matt stood up to his full height again, now right in front of you. “that really isn’t necessary—” you rolled your shirt back down and looked up to him, the mask covering his eyes. why did he have this outfit on again? “how did you get rid of those guys?” he asked, picking up two wooden sticks from the dusty concrete. you swallowed, trying to decide whether to lie, or somehow tell the straight truth. “I didn’t hear much from you.” he pushed. “I trained in self defence, guess I must be stealthy about it.” you started walking towards the stairs, feeling desperate to end this conversation. you had never had to explain your powers to anyone before, not even as a child, because you hid them so well. but tonight had been a dire situation, Matt could’ve died if those guys had gotten fed up and decided to just shoot him. Matt remained quiet as you two exited the warehouse. you couldn’t help but think that some unfortunate soul would likely stumble across these bodies soon, report them, and the police would have another dead end case to add to their books. Hell’s Kitchen was unforgiving, at the best of times. once outside in the cold nighttime air, Matt reached out, and had a hold of your arm. he was careful not to grip it, but you couldn’t exactly slip away. “I won’t ask again about how you dealt with those guys,” you didn’t look towards him in case you cracked and let the truth spill out, “but only if you go to a hospital tonight.” that was something you couldn’t do, but how did you explain that to Matt? it wasn’t like he could see your powers, which would’ve explained it way better than you saying ‘red stuff comes out of my hands at my command’. so, you sighed, and looked up at the cloudy sky. “I’ll go, if you promise not to tell Karen or Foggy about this, any of this. we just say that you got threatened, and I got you out of there in one piece.” Matt considered this, before letting out a huff. “deal.” he said quietly, as if it would wound his pride saying it louder. it made you smirk, but only for a second. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asked, finally letting your arm go. you went to walk off, about to text Karen and say that everything was fine, when a thought popped into your head. “hey don’t you need medical attention?” you asked, finally turning to look at him. now that you were out in the streetlight, you could finally see cuts, and undoubtedly bruises, beginning to make an appearance. they looked angry, freely weeping onto his black get-up. “maybe.” Matt conceded. “let’s go back to yours, deal with the damage together.” you offered, holding out a hand to him. you had no doubts that he could sense you were holding out your hand, and you were even more surprised when he said nothing, but took your hand. you started leading the way, and kept a tight hold on Matt’s hand, occasionally asking him if he was okay. he always returned the question, to which you said you’d been worse. he chuckled at that. when you finally arrived at his apartment, he let you in first, and you asked where the medical box was. as Matt started taking off his bloodied and dusty clothes, and the true extent of his injuries were revealed, you sighed. it was going to be a long night.

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃ ᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

messyyythoughts © 2021 do not translate without my permission, give credit if you repost, support always welcomed <3

#messyyythoughts #chaos magic user #chaos witch #marvel #marvel daredevil #daredevil #matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fic

[messyyythoughts]

pink silks.

marvel Matt Murdock + female ballet dancer reader

author’s note: you ever wanted to be a ballerina so badly, you pretend to be a classically trained ballet dancer in your room??? no? just me? okay cool xxx ALSO I had to write this in 3rd person POV, makes it less personal to any readers out there who don’t enjoy the warnings mentioned below.

summary: a disgraced 17 year old ballerina who had a bright future in NYC takes a chance on a new law firm who just might be able to get her justice.

warnings: alludes to SA, depressed character :( please only read if u think u can enjoy it past the sad bits, and take care my lovelies <3

⊱ ━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━ ⊰

she was sad. don’t be surprised at that either, she had very few reasons to be happy, at least that’s what she thought in that moment. she danced every night on the open rooftop of her shoddy apartment building that she used to share with that boy. he was a man now, technically. his birthday was a few weeks back. she didn’t send him a card, or a text, he didn’t deserve it. he deserved punishment, to be humiliated in a court of law before his peers and family.

but, that took money, the ballerina thought with a sigh, relacing her slippers for the tenth time since stepping onto the roof. she wore only her threadbare pyjamas and an oversized cardigan that was her mother’s. the one thing she took from home when he said to her, “come with me to New York, we’ll be stars. I promise.” and she had followed him with love in her heart and stars in her eyes.

now, she was struggling to pay for a barely liveable apartment in Hell’s Kitchen, blacklisted from every ballet company in NYC and alone. so horribly alone. and it was all because of him, that monster, that liar, that cheat. he was living his best life, dancing for a decent company and going out with pretty girls every weekend. and here she was, dancing alone on a broken rooftop with no intention of making it to tomorrow.

each day, she woke up, alone, cold, afraid. the neighbours weren’t kind, they argued every single night, throwing objects and slamming doors until the early hours. why they didn’t just split up, the ballerina couldn’t comprehend. yet, here she was, unable to fight back against her enemy, who’d stolen her life and dreams and she was doing nothing about it. one night, when her neighbours had finally ceased arguing, the ballerina grabbed her coat and shoes, and made her way to the rooftop. she’d had enough, and was sick of life.

tonight was the night.

she danced like her life depended on it, the only music being the final words spoken between her and her tormentor after an audition that they’d passed together, as a team, as a pair, a partnership. it was an endless loop of screaming, crying and... other things. things the ballerina couldn’t quite comprehend. she didn’t fully understand the things that he’d done. she didn’t know how to feel about them. she didn’t know what to think about them.

she didn’t care much anymore. he’d done that to her, and here she was, ready to dance right off of the rooftop and into the stars. she was just about ready, having danced herself to breathlessness and utmost dizziness, when a voice spoke to her from across the rooftop. it made her heart drop. “beautiful dancing.” she froze, steps away from the edge of the rooftop. a man, clothed in all black with a black mask covering his eyes, was stood by the door to the staircase. was he here to kill her? was this the end? she didn’t know what to do, or think, or feel. she had been moments away from– “thank you.” she said, with a heavy swallow. “why do you dance alone where no one can see you?” the masked man asked. “because I have no one to dance for.” the ballerina replied, heart still pumping vigourously. “look, I’m not here to hurt you, if that’s what you think.” the masked man spoke evenly, stepping forward as he did. the ballerina watched on, unsure of how to handle this situation. “then why are you here, dressed in all black, a mask hiding your face?” the ballerina questioned, shaking slightly. “I have a friend, he’s a lawyer, he sent me to ask you some questions, nothing more.” the ballerina sat down on the edge of the roof, pondering the masked man’s intentions. she’d been stupid enough before to let one boy ruin her life, was she going to do the same with a fully grown man dressed like an assassin? “okay, but you stay there, no sudden movements.” the ballerina conceded. the masked man did as he was asked. in fact, he knelt down, his head facing the floor. “you dance professionally?” the masked man asked, his voice softer as he spoke. “I want to.” the ballerina replied, shaking against the blistering winds of NYC. “so, you never auditioned for a ballet company?” the masked man asked, head tilting towards the ballerina. he sensed the change in her heartbeat, her breathing. she was exhausted from dancing, sure, but now she was on edge, ready to flee. no wonder, the masked man thought, after what he’d found out. “I did, with someone from my hometown. he got in, I didn’t.” the ballerina finally answered, her voice small, fingers pulling on the cardigan relentlessly. the masked man felt his fists clench in response, that feeling of anger pooling in his head. he needed to be calm, get the answers he needed, without scaring her off. she needed to come to him of her own accord. “who’s this someone?” the ballerina’s head dropped and she closed her eyes, fighting off something dark. “is his name...” the masked man uttered the whole government name of the person, and the ballerina looked up at him with wide eyes. scared eyes. she nodded, wordlessly. “he’s done some horrible things to other people, and he’s being taken to court. my friend would like you to be a witness.”

silence, only blanketed by the wind, fell between the two on the roof. inside, the ballerina was screaming, begging to be made free of her tormentor, her monster. outside, she remained shocked, unsure. the masked man felt sad on the inside for the ballerina, only 17, alone in Hell’s Kitchen. outside, he was patiently waiting for her response. finally, the ballerina stood up, wrapping the cardigan around herself as a comfort.

“before I agree to anything I want to meet this friend, the lawyer. where do they work?” the masked man held out a business card, still kneeling down, still entirely passive. cautiously, the ballerina made her way over, and paused before she became within arm’s reach of the masked man. he outstretched his fingers and she took the card from his gloved hands. with that, the masked man stood up to his full height, and backed away from the door.

“I’ll let my friend know you’re eager to see him.” he said before vaulting over the roof and climbing down the various ladders and balconies to reach the street level. the ballerina turned the business card over in her hands, running her fingers over it with curiosity. it wasn’t like she had anything better to do tomorrow, why not pay this lawyer a visit and see if they’re all she expects them to be?

the business card found a home in her cardigan pocket for the rest of the night.

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as NYC came back to life, so did the ballerina. she had a real chance here, and she was grabbing it with both hands, tightly. dressed in her best clothes, with freshly washed hair and a spritz of tester perfume, the ballerina took that business card and left her apartment with what felt like determination. for the first time in weeks, she felt alive, present in the world. she was no longer just a ghost following herself around aimlessly. she had a purpose. little old ballerina in NYC was about to do something seriously big, and she felt good about it.

she hadn’t felt good about many things recently, so this was exciting. a trip across Hell’s Kitchen to a lawyer who could get her justice, or was going to try to at the very least. and the masked man! he hadn’t left her mind since last night, she couldn’t sleep properly after that encounter. he was so mysterious, elusive, strange. she hoped she could thank him one day if this all went according to plan, if there was a God up there, somewhere.

when the ballerina arrived at the office, she was doubtful. it looked to be the same quality as her own dwellings across Hell’s Kitchen. before she could knock, the door opened, and there stood a man with tinted glasses and a walking stick. “oh, she’s here.” he held out his hand, and the ballerina hastily shook it. “I’m Matt Murdock, come on in.” the ballerina followed the blind man, still holding the business card in her hands. she was nervous now, they’d been expecting her. oh dear. had she made the wrong choice? was this the right thing to do? what if she got into trouble? “Karen will get you something to drink, if you want.” a well dressed woman with gorgeously shiny hair entered the room. “hi, I’m Karen, do you want a hot drink?” she put down a tray and started pouring herself and Matt a drink. the ballerina opted for tea, something she’d relished at home, but rarely indulged in since coming to NYC. once everyone was settled, Murdock started asking questions. “I’m assuming you got our message?” he began, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. Karen had a pen and notepad at hand. this was going to get uncomfortable if the wrong questions started being asked, the ballerina thought with a hot flush of embarrassment. how did she explain what had happened to her? even she didn’t understand it. oh dear. she was panicking, bad.

“I did.” the ballerina heard herself say. it was as if she was in another dimension, just watching herself on autopilot. this happened often. especially when she danced. she didn’t know how to stop it. still, she persisted. “what is it you’re planning to do about…” she couldn’t even finish her sentence she felt so sick.

“we’re going to take him to court with several other victims and get him put into prison, for a long time.” Karen answered softly, a kind smile on her face. her cheeks were rosy from the cold weather, the same as the ballerina’s. was Karen’s apartment as cold as the ballerina’s..? “does that sound like something you want to help us with?” Karen asked, the pen balanced between her fingers.

“I think so.” the ballerina answered with a shaking voice. Karen felt like dying inside at the sight of a girl so young being so frightened and hurt. Matt just wanted night to fall so he could don the mask and serve his own form of justice to this monster that tormented the ballerina day and night.

he’d never tell Karen or the ballerina this, but he had heard the ballerina’s nightmares through her rapid heartbeats for a few nights now. he’d been watching over her in the run-up to taking this case, and knew how badly she hurt inside. he just wanted to tell her that she’d get her justice, no doubts about it, but he had to go about this the right way.

Karen did most of the talking, she had a way with younger clients, Matt only interjected when there was a legal technicality that needed clarifying. it had been a nerve racking few hours for the ballerina when Karen suggested a break. the ballerina couldn’t get out of that room quick enough. Karen made the ballerina promise to come back after an hour to continue the meeting. the ballerina did as she was asked, only because she had a need to see this through.

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the ballerina followed a routine of the same thing for many weeks. meeting with Karen and Matt, occasionally a man called Foggy was there too, and discuss the case and write down everything she could remember about her time with the monster. Karen was always the saving grace when things got too embarrassing or upsetting for the ballerina, and because Matt couldn’t see the ballerina’s expressions all of the time, he relied on Karen to keep an eye on their client.

it wasn’t until the ballerina had finished giving her information over that she was allowed to just stay at home and wait. it killed her inside to wait. she received frequent phone calls from Karen with updates on the case, and finally there was a court date. there were several other victims, witnesses and people willing to testify. it was the day before the first court date, and the ballerina found herself crumbling at the thought of facing him, his slimy character, false words. she found herself phoning Karen in the middle of the night, and leaving a voice message. “Karen, I can’t testify. I’m sorry.” that was all the ballerina said, before hanging up in a pool of tears and racing to the rooftop. her ballet shoes were wrecked and her feet permanently injured beyond belief, but she needed to dance. maybe tonight she would dance off of the rooftop at last, straight into the stars, and home. wherever home seemed to be these days.

the ballerina played the music, and she had no routine to follow. her feet took her as fast and far as they could in their state of injury, and she felt a bit lighter as she danced. no one but the stars and the moon were watching, and she was so close to dropping with exhaustion, that she finally got close enough to the edge. she was dancing dangerously on the edge, spinning and spinning. maybe she’d just spin off, fall, fly. she got closer to the dark drop, with every move. she was so calculated and precise when dancing, but she got messier and sloppier with each breath.

just as she was about to free fall, fly off the edge, she was caught by an arm around her back that lifted her back onto the rooftop. she pulled her headphones out of her ears, and was met with the howling wind of NYC. it was so cold that she could see her breath now she’d opened her eyes for the first time since stepping onto the edge of the rooftop. the masked man had made a return. “what were you doing?” he asked, keeping a hold of her in case she tried something stupid. “don’t tell me you were going to dance into oblivion.” he walked her to the door, but she slipped out from his grasp. “I don’t care what your lawyer friends have said,” she had tears sliding down her face, “I can’t testify.” she shook her head as the masked man turned to face her. “why not?” he asked. “he’ll see me, he knows who I am, he’ll come for me if we lose.” the ballerina said, her flushed face wet with tears that hadn’t been cried in a long time. “they won’t lose.” the masked man came back with, “I can promise. you that.” he added on, with a strong posture. “you don’t know that.” the ballerina whispered, wiping her tears away with her sleeve. the masked man knelt down before the ballerina as he had before, when they first met, and held out a hand to her. “what are you doing?” the ballerina asked, stepping towards him. “take my hand.” he said, softly. she did. “I have every bit of faith in those guys, otherwise I wouldn’t have found you. you know that, don’t you?” the ballerina didn’t know what to say. “come here, it’s too cold to be up here so late.” he stood up and she accepted his hug. it reminded her of when her dad would hug her after a scary audition in her hometown. they stood there for a while, against the wind, the two of them. when a gusty breeze passed them by, the masked man told her to go back inside, sleep and be ready for Karen to collect her in the morning.

the ballerina listened, and slept, although she had nightmares too.

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the next few weeks were a horrid storm of interrogations and raised voices. whenever the ballerina was on the witness stand, the lawyers that were representing him came at her with hard to understand questions and nonsense accusations. Matt and Foggy could see that the ballerina was struggling, and even though they’d showed her what to do, it rarely made her feel better.

on the verdict day, the ballerina could take it no longer. she was exhausted, and wanted to sink through the ground. eyes had been on her the entire trial. she’d been called a liar and a whore. she’d also been called a victim, a defenseless girl, a poor thing. none of it was helping her cope. she found herself crying into a pool of tears most nights, if it wasn’t that then she was dancing all over the rooftop. the masked man visited every single night, whether she was dancing or crying.

the jury returned, the ballerina held tightly onto her own hands, until Matt’s hand found hers. he enclosed them in his, Foggy had a hand on her shoulders, his eyes laser focused on the jury. Karen was sat just behind them, still as a statue. the ballerina was sure she’d be sick if the wrong words were spoken by the juror. if this was all for nothing then she had nothing left to live on for. this case, as harrowing as it had been, had given her a reason or two to get out of bed. her dancing was beginning to lose its feel the longer the case went on, so the ballerina had fought to make it to verdict day.

time slowed as the juror announced the verdict. Matt was looking at the table, Foggy staring at the jury. the ballerina closed her eyes, and just waited in limbo.

the verdict was guilty. 

Karen held the ballerina in comfort as he was dragged out of court kicking and screaming at his innocence, hurling disgusting verbal abuse at the ballerina, who was the main victim. everything had involved the ballerina, it was all stemming from her. she’d been the first witness to give evidence, she was sat beside Matt and Foggy every day, the newspapers begged her for interviews whenever she left court. her face was plastered all over the internet with fake, ludicrous stories of her childhood and career as a ballerina. all she could think was that, firstly, she’d enjoyed a wonderful childhood, and secondly, she never had the chance to have a career as a ballerina before this. it was all lies for clicks and views.

the most surprising part of the case was that the ballerina was to be awarded money for damages. specifically, emotional damages, according to Karen. as the ballerina wasn’t a legal adult yet, it had to go to her parents or guardians, so she nominated Karen and Matt. they agreed and opened an account in the ballerina’s name to give her access to the money. she moved into a better apartment with Karen’s help, and set up auditions at ballerina companies all over NYC. if there was one thing the ballerina was determined to do, it was dance for a living, while she still could.

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Matt received a text message inviting him to the first performance of the dance season. Karen and Foggy were invited too, of course. the ballerina appreciated that Matt wouldn’t be able to see the performance, but maybe he’d feel it. she invited him first nonetheless. they all turned up, on time, and in their private box that had been arranged by the ballerina. she was the best ballerina in the company, her fellow dancers adored her, yet she did not dance for their adoration. she danced to live.

Karen kept remarking on how incredible the ballerina was for so young a person. Matt could just imagine how she danced on a proper stage after using a shoddy rooftop for so long. Foggy was enjoying the private box too much, gloating about it even after the show had ended hours later. Matt was the first person down to the stage to see the ballerina. she was dressed elegantly and still looked immaculate despite having danced for her life minutes earlier.

Karen congratulated the ballerina a thousand times over, complimenting her performance over and over again. Matt could feel the heartbeat of the ballerina soaring when she was praised for her performance. it made him smile, made him warm inside. Karen and Foggy then left the two alone for a while to talk. “I wish your friend could’ve been here tonight.” the ballerina said gently, gazing out at the crowd. “what friend?” Matt asked, genuinely confused. “the man in the mask.” the ballerina filled in, tilting her head. as if Matt could forget his friend. “ah, I see,” Matt leaned into the ballerina’s side, “he was here, I made sure of it.” the ballerina glanced at Matt and then back out at the theatre. “where was he sat?” she asked, on her toes to try and peek above the many heads of the crowd. “in the private box, with us, but he had to make a hasty exit. he’s not liked by many people, you see.” Matt straightened his back and had two hands on his walking stick. the ballerina nodded and sighed, sad to have missed him. “when you see him again, will you tell him thank you?” the ballerina said after a while. the theatre was now almost empty, save for a few stragglers. “what for?” Matt asked, leading the ballerina down the stage and into the seats so they could go home. or out for drinks. “oh, I don’t know. for saving me, I suppose.” the ballerina smirked at how strange she sounded, before opening the doors to the foyer. it was bustling with people trying to get taxis home or arrange plans for after the show. Matt steered the two of them to the doors and they stepped out into the NYC nighttime air. “will you tell him?” the ballerina asked, not comforted by Matt’s lack of reply. “I think he already knows, but the next time I see him I’ll be sure to let him know.” with that, the ballerina smiled gratefully before hugging Matt tight. he hugged her back, his head resting atop hers. Karen and Foggy came out behind them and said they were off for drinks, if they wanted to come along. the ballerina agreed and Matt did too, but he said he wouldn’t stay long.

as the four of them sat in a bar not far from the theatre, all the ballerina could think about was the masked man, how he’d been there every single night through the court process. how he’d stopped her from dancing off the edge. had he really been at the theatre tonight, or was Matt just saying that to be kind? the ballerina sipped her soft drink and pondered the situation as the others drank and joked. if the ballerina knew any better, it was probably best to leave the masked man alone. he had very clearly done his part now, whatever that was. as the night crawled on, the ballerina excused herself, called a taxi and went home to her new apartment.

she hung up her heavy winter coat, threw her nice shoes aside, and went straight to the rooftop. she put on her at home ballet slippers, and slipped new headphones into her ears. she was still dressed in her evening gown and still donned her classy jewellery, her face was still well painted with expensive makeup and her hair had kept its style. still, she danced. it was as if she couldn’t get enough of it, despite doing it all night and all day. it was her very life blood, her oxygen, her energy.

as she danced, she smiled, which she rarely did. she never smiled when dancing, it wasn’t something she was used to doing. it felt good to smile, she realised, as she went across the smooth rooftop in a well practiced routine to the music. when she thought she’d danced herself to exhaustion, she looked out over the rooftop to the sight of NYC. it could be beautiful, sometimes. she turned around to go back inside, and found the masked man standing there.

“your show was certainly something.” he said, as she removed her headphones. “thank you. Matt said you attended, although I didn’t see you.” the ballerina replied, looking at him with sad eyes. “oh, I think you did see me. you probably didn’t recognise me without the mask.” he replied with a smile. “why did you stop dancing?” “I sensed you were around, you know, thought it would be polite to stop and talk.” the ballerina sat on the rooftop, braving the wind as she always had. “dance with me?” the masked man asked, offering her his hand. “can you even dance ballet?” the ballerina asked with a true laugh. “I have many hidden talents.” he informed her, as she took up her position. she asked if he needed music, and he said only if she wanted. so, she let her phone play the next track without her headphones plugged in, and they started dancing. she was surprised by his fluidity, his ability to lift her. he kept up perfectly, always in sync with her next move. had he learned this from watching her all those nights? did he dance as a younger man? the questions flew around her head, but most importantly, she was memorising every moment of this night so she could recall it perfectly. no longer was she only accompanied by the stars and the moon, but now the masked man.

when the music stopped, she looked at the masked man and smiled. “you were perfect, sir, thank you.” she did a low curtsey with a mockingly posh voice, and he bowed back. “I learned from only the very best ballerina in all of New York.” with that, he had to leave, probably off to see other ballerinas dancing on their rooftops. but, he said if she ever needed him, all she had to do was tell Matt and he’d contact him. the ballerina hugged him goodbye, thanking him for his presence, and watched him scale down the building and disappear into the alleyways of NYC. she returned to her apartment to find a vase of flowers on her table, with a handwritten card that read: the world is your stage, ballerina, dance on it as you please.

the ballerina smiled, feeling whole again, and finally let herself rest. the noise of NYC never ceased, but she found that it was difficult to sleep without it. not once did she have another nightmare about him or the things that had happened between them, instead she dreamed of performing on stage again in a few nights time, and then learning a new routine for the next ballet season. oh, the excitement she felt. the way her heart jumped for joy when she saw auditions being posted by the dressing rooms. how she revelled in dancing away to a world of her own. all of the things she’d loved about dancing before meeting him had returned in full force.

her love for life had grown, and she felt happy. don’t be surprised at that either, she had a lot of things to be happy about.

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