even flesh wounds

Under the Works [Remus Lupin - Marauders Era]

[Requested] When Y/N wants to join the Order of the Phoenix, Remus becomes a ball of overprotective anxiety. In the aftermath of a successful task, Remus’s worry comes to a head.  
♥ A/N ♥
I know I’ve been slacking lately, but now I’m back and I’m trying my best to get through all my requests by the time school starts back. Tomorrow’s orientation, so I might turn in earlier than usual… because I really want my schedule. Putting that aside, I hope you all enjoy this! Have a lovely day!
Swearing, Angst, Fluff

Originally posted by nellaey

4. “Your smile could make Voldemort blush.”

Ever since Dumbledore had involved the troublesome Marauders of the Order of the Phoenix, it’s all they ever thought about. Remus knew that due to his “furry little problem” there would be a difficulty in finding a steady career, but with the Order, he’d be able to find a purpose without anyone needing to know of his condition. James, Sirius, and Lily wanted to join just for the sake of defeating Voldemort—but Remus, he thought of the possibility of being somewhere where he felt he belonged, along with his thoughts of being in a world without Voldemort. And Peter, well… the boy would follow James and Sirius bloody anywhere.

The only thing that could make the idea even the slightest bit fluctuating, or unappealing, was how Y/N L/N wanted to join along with him.

“Please, Remus,” she had said to him. “See this from my perspective: my bloody boyfriend and my best mates, all putting their lives on the line. Am I meant to sit back anxiously? Am I meant to be a coward?”

Remus had wrapped his arms around her, bringing her worming form into a comforting hug. His face was creased into lines, all filled with worry and anxiety. “Y/N, I don’t want you at risk,” he told her. He’d had countless nightmares already—ones with flashes of Voldemort, green light, and Y/N’s cold, lifeless face. He hadn’t ever mentioned them to her, out of fear that she’d laugh and call him mad for thinking like that. “I couldn’t stand for you to get hurt… or to bloody die.”

She quirked a smile at him, slowly relaxing in his arms. “Doubting my ability, Lupin?”

“We all know you could kick my bloody arse with one arm tied behind your back, love,” he grumbled, and relented without a bit of struggle as she pushed her plump lips onto his.


Today was a big day for Y/N, Sirius, and James. They would be going to infiltrate the Malfoy Manor to gather information. Considering that Y/N was from a prestigious Slytherin family, it gave her the advantage of being able to navigate through the halls and to know the Malfoys and most of the other Pureblood families like the creases in her palms. This made her the most suitable witch for the job—and Sirius and James hopped on board, at Remus’s very, very kindly-put request. Mad-Eye Moody and another Auror named Kingsley Shacklebolt would be joining, to act as overseers. Bodyguards, more like it, but Remus would never say that directly to their faces.

Remus had been suffering from a stamina withdrawal after the most-recent full moon, and though he insisted and insisted on going along with the group, the three Marauding participants demanded that he stay and rest. He’d been so restless ever since they departed on the mission, and though he knew his best mates and the love of his life could handle themselves in the face of such eminent danger, it still scared the bloody hell out of him. He didn’t doubt their abilities. No, he merely wanted them to not risk their lives just because of some sodding git calling himself Voldemort. The Order was full of Aurors and Healers and respectable Ministry-workers and so on, so forth—several men and women, all with potential and all with great chances at succeeding. Why did the people most important to him have to come along and join? Why couldn’t they just stay home and out of the line-of-fire, where they’d have the best chance to live in peace?

It had been over five hours since their departure, and Remus was sitting on the couch of the Order’s headquarters, several members bustling around and acting nonchalant while the young Marauder couldn’t stop rubbing his hands together. He was prone to feeling drained and stressed, but now—those words were mere understatements. It was basically like the aftermath of two full moons quadrupled, and even then there was still an underlying bit of underestimation.

He was twenty-years-old, yet it felt like he was suffering through gray hairs, wrinkles, and the like as he anxiously awaited his lifelines’ arrivals. It was pitiful and stupid for him to worry himself into an early grave, but Merlin, he couldn’t help himself.

A series of knocks came to the entrance of the headquarters, and Remus was the first one to the door. He slammed it open, and without giving a single bloody thought to the Order’s protocol of “security questions,” he pinpointed Y/N with his burning gaze and jerked her into a hug. Y/N chuckled, shaking her head at Remus’s antics, and pressed a kiss to the side of his neck. James and Sirius just gave the two bewildered looks before awkwardly shuffling around them, to find Lily and Dumbledore and give reassurances as well as information.

Mad-Eye Moody’s thunderous voice entered their vicinity, and his formidable form came tromping forward. He glared at the two, suddenly going slack-jawed in his conversation with Shacklebolt. “Security questions,” he spat.

Remus looked tentatively at Y/N. “What did you say to me when I first asked you on a date?” he asked her.

She smiled. “I told you, ‘About time, you bloody idiot,’ and you were shocked silly. I thought you’d gone mad,” she said, giving a slight giggle at the memory. She grew sterner when Moody’s eyes drilled holes in the side of her face. “Ahem… what did you get me for my sixteenth birthday?”

“A bouquet of daisies, and a scrapbook of us as a couple,” Remus said smilingly. Y/N nodded, and leaned up on her tiptoes to give him a kiss on the mouth.

Mad-Eye muttered something about “blasted children” and stomped past them, Shacklebolt following after at a less-brisk pace. Remus and Y/N came slowly after, holding onto each other for dear life. Soon after they entered the headquarters, the door shut behind them with a loud slam.

Remus took his chances and began to skim his eyes over Y/N’s enrobed body. He was looking for the slightest bit of a flesh wound—even excess rubbish or ash. He was desperate to know if she truly was unharmed, or if she was hiding her pain just for his sake.

Y/N grabbed his cheeks and forced him to look at her. “Remus,” she said softly, biting her lip once she noticed his wild, flickering eyes. She pressed a hand through his fringe, getting the stray hairs away from his lashes and brow. “I’m fine.”

Remus’s eyes flashed. “Don’t—don’t say that, Y/N,” he told her. “Things like that… they put your life in danger. You think Lily lays peacefully on the sofa when James leaves on missions? No. He doesn’t. And neither do I.”

“Remus, I can take care of myself.”

“But what if you’re cornered? What if the only person you have to depend on is yourself?”

Taken aback, Y/N’s lips pursed. A smile slowly made its way onto her face. “You’re so cute when you’re worried,” said Y/N teasingly.

Remus’s head fell forward onto her shoulder. Y/N could feel the knots and stiffness in his back, the firm grip he had on her waist. He’s just looking out for you, Y/N thought.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispered, his bottom lip quivering.

She shook her head, pressing multiple kisses to his head. Her heart panged with realization. It hurt so very much to think of Remus’s fears and doubts—the way he became even more haunted when his best mates and girlfriend left off to do something dangerous.

“I’m a Slytherin, Remus,” she told him, trying to even out the tension between them. “We’re known to be cunning… we’re known to be snakes dressed as mice. You know that; that’s why you became interested in me in the first place. Why are you so afraid, Remus? And besides… you’re pretty invincible yourself. Your smile could make Voldemort blush.

Remus shrugged against her. “You’re so… good, Y/N. You’re too good. They could change that,” he said into her shoulder, his breathing ragged. “I don’t… I don’t want that.”

“If I can handle a werewolf in bed, I can handle the whole load of Voldemort’s army,” teased Y/N, making sure her voice was low to avoid the affronted looks of nearby Order members.

Remus snapped his head up, face automatically turning a bright red. “Y/N, bloody hell!”

They were going to be okay. Y/N knew they were going to be okay.

She’d make sure of it.

mostie01  asked:

What now I want more lios quigon please with him being protective of obiwan after he gets injured with him proving that he's not gonna kill obiwan

Blood tends to bring out the wild in him, its why he’s so grateful that when they have to resort to violence that lightsabers do not leave bleeding wounds but cauterize from the moment of impact leaving behind a sickly sweet smell that does not raise the beast. There’s something different to be said about viroblades that the smugglers are using.

And its certainly very different when the one bleeding is his padawan.

A low cry of pain, the thump of a body and then blood in the air.

Its enough to already race Qui-Gon’s battle heated blood up another notch as he disarms another smuggler and twirls on the heels of his feet.

And then he freezes, his ears going forward in surprise before going back and down in raw anger he has a moment of difficulty to control, his tail giving a sharp flicker.

Because its Obi-Wan’s blood, the boy on the floor with a deep gauge in his thigh as blood pools around him and the smuggler stands above him, Obi-Wan with his saber pointed at the smuggler as he tries to get up but doesn’t get the breath to do so.

Well that won’t do.

With a vibrating growl, Qui-Gon pounces on the smuggler to give his padawan the breath and space he needs to get up and defend himself from the worst of the attack even as Qui-Gon now prowls ever more predatory like against the smugglers.

The smart of them run away to live and smuggle another day, the dumb lose a limb and are knocked out for the judicial forces to take care of once they can arrive on the scene.

By the time Qui-Gon is done, Obi-Wan has carefully turned his attention to the bleeding thigh wound, using a discarded viroblade to make makeshift bandages to put pressure on the deep bleeding wound.

His face is slightly pale and pinched from blood loss and pain but other then that he seems alright.

The Jedi Master knelt down, rumbling deeply as he tucked his saber on his belt and then reached out to help tie the robe bandages. “What happened?” He rumbled, voice deep in his chest and slightly husked, fighting against the wild in himself.

“My guard dropped and she slipped under it, I didn’t expect her to be so quick.” Obi-Wan confessed easily, biting his lips hard as he let his hands fall away so Qui-Gon could take care of the bandages. “I’m sorry master.”

Pausing for a moment, Qui-Gon reached up and brushed the back of his fingers over the teens cheek. “Don’t apologize. We’ll work on your defense once back in the temple but for now we need to wait on the judicial, can you do that? Or should I call for a medic?”

Qui-Gon wanted to say screw it about the smugglers and the spice ring they had interrupted but knew that was not the best to do as evidence and criminals would escape if they did.

So he was letting Obi-Wan judge his own condition.

Licking his lips, Obi-Wan survyed his own condition quickly then shook his head. “Wait. I can hold out an hour to an hour and a half if needed Master. Its just a flesh wound even if its bleeding well.” He smiled at the others hesitant look. “I promise master.”

Tail flickering behind him, Qui-Gon gave a slow nod. “Then we wait padawan of mine.”

He reached out and rested his head on the crown of the boys head, smiling faintly. “And well done on slicing your way into the warehouse.”

Obi-Wan beamed in delight up at him and then settled against his master’s side. ‘Council can suck on their toes, I don’t think there’s any place I’m safer then at my master’s side.’

As if he’d heard Obi-Wan’s thought through the bond, Qui-Gon gave a deeply amused rumble as his ears gave a little wiggle on top of his head before they swirled in response to a noise.


They have little Ninja gameboys (though the game cartridge is more Nintendo DS like) in Boruto: Naruto the Movie.

Ahhhh,what do they even play?

Super Hashirama Bros?

The Legend of Naruto??


out of time

Force yourself to look at this monstrosity that we’ve become,

popping bubble gum and killing dreams for fun,

got one finger on the trigger, got an ego getting bigger,

got a smirk that works

in our favor,

got to savor

those wins,

got to repent

our sins,

oh, fuck it, heaven doesn’t exist anyways, does it?

Having too much fun here anyways, so love it,

got a human body full of stimulants, because otherwise I couldn’t feel it then,

numbed body, stab wounds, to feel if I’d move,

didn’t flinch, didn’t cry, it’s like they didn’t even try,

flesh wound, fresh room, blood dripping down the sides,

got a mouth full of razors, got a back stabbed filled of lies,

so many holes its like they told, they’ve predicted this fiction,

turned real, in depiction,

terrifying, imagine dying?

Blissful peace, imagine for weeks,

get through life one day at a time, one minute, one moment,

borrow time, then loan it,

step on hearts, and spit on faith,

tell them they’re already too late,

god is already fucking dead, so get it in your damned head,

hurry up, what more?

vallisagarwaen  asked:

what's the worst you got ever hurt in combat? (except taking a nap under a building)

“Well I gotta admit that Wolverine and I had some pretty intense whooping, had to be hospitalized for that and it wasn’t that much fun. Also falling slack of powers after the high those Terrigen Crystals gave me was pretty ass kickin’ but you know what hurts the most? Even more than flesh wounds and no matter how many pills and docs see you? The pain that you fuckin get when you have to torture the one you love out of their brainwashing and programming. Having them remember who they are and day in and out reaching no point but never giving up, no matter how much you hurt inside. I was damned drove to insanity and almost killed Sin just to have my lover back, just to help her remember who we are and who she truly is. I’m still not over what I did but… It was a really dark time. Not that this could ever be an excuse for the pains I put her through…”

anonymous asked:

I imagine modern au Enjolras gets sick a lot and just has general bad health so it's just Enj: *takes like 5 pills for migraines, colds, and general pain with his coffee and energy drink combo* don't worry guys I'm fine let's get back to wor- *passes out* Les Amis: *sigh and draw straws for who has to drive him to the hospital*

Enjolras is the kind of guy who’d be like “It is but a flesh wound” even if it concerns his sleep pattern or his immune system. He’s a warrior, he can do this, he /has/ to do this! If he took care of himself as well as he cared about the cause, he’d be a health god

Les Amis sit him down for an intervention at some point because “When the nurses begin to know your name and your blood-type by heart, you gotta think about your life choices Enjolras”

Flesh Wounds

Jemma Simmons is flustered after the events that took place on the field with Fitz, but there is more beneath the surface that is about come pouring out.

Note: This is something rather crappy I threw together just now because I am suffering from major feels from the episode tonight and I needed to write this. Hope you all enjoy!

“It’s just a flesh wound, Jemma.” Fitz let out a hiss of pain, as Jemma touched the splat shaped mark on his neck with a cotton ball.

Jemma bit down on her tongue, trying her hardest to keep from spouting ungrateful words at her friend.

Fitz squirmed uncomfortably, whether it was due to her trying to clean his wound or from the awkward silence that passed between them.

Either way, the silence was more than either of them could stand at this moment.

“Just a flesh wound?” She repeated, her accent coming out in a harsh tone, “An accident that, oh I don’t know, could just have gotten you severely injured or-” her voice trailed off, her words getting caught in her throat.

Killed, that’s what it could have gotten him.

Here she was a good deal away from him, worrying about defending her own precious life when he was out on the front lines, risking his neck for the greater good of humanity.

Releasing a huff of irritated air, she turned away from Fitz hastily, ripping off her gloves and slamming them down on the lab table.

“I’m angry that you did not call me, I could have helped you! I mean, what if you had died? What if that phone call had been our last few moments? What if-”


Her body froze the instant she heard his voice, her heart skipping a beat at the tone it carried.

She heard it before, not that long ago when they stood above the entrance for Maveth.There was no guarantee that he would return safely, but she was positive that he would.

This was Fitz, her best friend, her partner, her..

She sucked in a shaky breath, turning slowly to face him.

He gave her that look, the one that filled her stomach with butterflies. His bright blue eyes had this soft, knowing look to them, his lips were pressed in a thin line.

He saw completely through her.

“The wound isn’t bothering you,” he pointed out, “So what is?”

It was this question alone that caused the person he knew all too well, to crumble before him.

A shaking hand pressed itself to her lips, as the tears she had been holding since her conversation with May were starting to well up within her eyes.

This went beyond Fitz nearly dying again, beyond feeling ashamed and guilty for Lash, for Will, for everything that ever took place while she was under the title of “Agent”, this was all deeply rooted somewhere, and in something else.

And now she could no longer keep it locked within.

“There’s a flesh wound on my heart, Fitz.” she raised lowered her hand, the first couple tears escaping her eyes. “Hell, this isn’t even a flesh wound. Fitz, this wound is deep and I-every time something happens, the wound opens even more.”

Fitz’s eyes softened, causing a heavy sob to escape her lips as she leaned herself against the lab table for support: “Truth is it never heals, not before something is stabbing itself back into the same spot, the same wound, and leaving me a bloody mess on the floor.” She raised her hands, her vision becoming blurred by the tears that burned her cheeks.

“Fitz, there is blood on my hands! Stains I can’t remove no matter how hard I try! Will’s blood, those poor Inhumans blood, YOUR blood!”

“Stop, Jemma, stop.” Fitz pushed himself off the stool, stopping just several inches from her.

Memories surfaced back to a little while earlier, back to when that kiss took place. It happened in this very lab, in the very place they stood.

No here she was again, back pressed firmly to the table with him only a short distance away. Only difference was the tears in her eyes and the fact that they were just the opposite of what she wanted, what she knew that he wanted.

“I can’t do this,” she finally breathed, after moments of listening to his soothing breath.

Fitz lowered his head, his posture stiff as if her were preparing himself for another heated argument.

“Jemma, I already told you-”

“NO, Fitz! I can’t be your friend!”

This stopped him right in his tracks, leaving him frozen right in his very spot. Did this mean that she was done with him as a whole?

He botched all chances of getting to be something more with her, that he could live with, but losing her friendship?

He would have rather blown to a million bits tonight.

“Jemma,” he panicked, his hands reaching for her before he stepped back.

“Whatever I have done, I am sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

“No, you fool!” She hissed through her teeth, her nails digging into her palm, “I can’t be your friend because I don’t want to be your friend, I want you!”

As if to prove her point, before even giving him so much as a chance to respond to her statement, she threw herself forward and directly before him.

Memories of their first kiss flooded her mind, as she brought her arms around his neck and his face to hers.

Her lips met his instantly, her head spinning from the quick outcome of this whole entire situation. He himself did not hesitate to return her kiss, the taste of her salty tears were on his tongue, the slight sensation of her fingers were brushing against his wound.

Oh, but neither of them cared, they didn’t give a damn.

Both of them got what they wanted, after dancing and walking on eggshells around one another, they finally got what they both wanted.

As Fitz placed his hands around her waist, allowing the kiss to deepen, Jemma felt the wounds from every poor decision, past mistakes and regrets begin to close shut, healing her heart once again.