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thyme-in-a-bubble · 26 days

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the smouldering scar

fused with the foe, chapter three

a/n: big reveal in this one, you guys. hold on to your butts!

summary: you didn’t know how long he remained silent, frozen in the depths of the answer your simple question apparently had, but eventually, you heard him say, “I wanna show you something.”

warnings: king!steve rogers x reader, fantasy AU (monsters, but not much magic), original fantasy world, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, slow burn, innocent!reader, violence, gore, injury, crying

word count: 3430

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It nearly looked like snow. But you knew it wasn’t. It was ash that swirled around in the smoky air outside of the small windows.

Sitting on the floor of the chamber that shot off of the grand throne room, your back was pressed back against the stone wall. Numerous servants, mostly elderly ones or others who couldn’t join on the battlefield, had, with a handful of wardens, all gathered in that meeting room. Some were seated at the round table in the middle while others had opted for the floor like you.

Hugging your knees to your chest, one of your hands slowly slid up and down your shin in a self-soothing caress, the movement eventually came to a stop on the top of your knee. Glancing down, you couldn’t help but turn your wrist and stare at the symbolic scar that marked your palm. Without really realising it, your other fingers came up to trace it gently as the terrifying reality of what was occurring just outside of these castle walls nearly ate you alive.

With every hellish thought that fluttered in your mind, you became nervous that you were mere moments away from throwing your breakfast back up.

What if Steve didn’t make it back? What if he was lying dead somewhere right now? What if he was just charred enough to make his demise inevitable, but draw his last few moments out in a torturous wait? What if you had to rule this kingdom, that you’d barely even gotten your footing in, all alone?

Suddenly, doors on the other side of the room were forced open so loudly that it ripped you from your paralysing thoughts and made you jump. Lifting yourself up to your feet, your eyes stayed glued to the exit.

But when the door to the chamber was pushed open, all of the air slipped out of your lungs in an instant.

With soot and scrapes tainting their features, there stood the royal who wouldn’t escape your worries, alongside numerous soldiers behind him.

“Turner, Hardy,” not even taking a second to breathe, he instantly called to the wardens who had been guarding the chamber, “go get some supplies, blankets, food and water, as well as some healing supplies to the throne room,” he commanded, “we’ll use it as a sanctuary and gather the people who lost their homes as well as prepare for some of the injured since the hospital is already dangerously close to full capacity–”

Before you even knew what was happening, you’d crossed the room and nearly tackled the king from how forcefully you threw your arms around him. A breath of air seeped out of his lungs at the blow. It wasn’t till his touch slowly found your spine that you realised what you had done. Scurrying back like his touch had shocked you, “I’m sorry,” your wide eyes blinked up at him and your stomach twisted at the reality of what you’d just done, “I didn’t–…” though when you met his gaze, your shoulders melted back down into place as you uttered, “hi.”

“Hey,” he breathed, staring down at you as guards rushed around him, dashing to fulfil his commands, “are you alright?”

“I’m–…” for a split second you were gonna spill to him just how terrifying it had been, how scared you still were, but looking back at him and the other knights, seeing the obvious signs of the fire they’d just walked through, you instinctively withered down and replied, “yeah. I’m fine,” you tried your best to keep your tone steady, “are you? What happened? Did you–…”

“Steve,” haven already migrated into the chamber, Bucky then tossed the king a roll of bandages, “we’ve got this here, you go take care of your side.”

Watching Steve’s quick reflexes catch the cloth with one hand, your gaze then grew again as it scanned his frame, “your side? What happened to your side?”

“It’s nothing,” he tried to relax his clenched jaw as he said, “it’s fine.”

With chaos buzzing all around the room, you searched his steely eyes a moment before you then turned on your heel. Snatching up one of the healing kits resting on the central table, you then glanced over your shoulder and gestured with your head, “come.”

Weaving through the crowd, you slipped into the vacant war room. A thick table, littered with maps and little markers, grounded the space. Not glancing back at him as you heard him shadow you, he slowly began to lay down the weapons still strapped to him as you pulled out a chair and sat the wooden box down on the table, the glass vials within it clinked against each other at the force.

“You don’t have to help me,” his deep voice was quiet as he stayed near the door, “this isn’t my first burn.”

Unlatching the lid, you glanced back at him as you opened the box, “do you not want my help?”

“No,” he shook his head and lowered his shield and axe to a chair he passed when his feet finally began to shift.

“Then take your armour off,” you nodded clinically as you returned your gaze to the herbs before you.

As he began to near you, he slowly started to loosen the straps of his leather armour, gently shedding it as he watched you search through the kit.

“Where is it, where is it…” you muttered as you plucked up the bottles and read the scribbled labels, looking for the right thing, “ah!” you exclaimed as you located the elderberry and milkweed salve, “there!”

Steve’s brows knit together gently as he placed one of his layers on the chair beside the one you sat in, “…you know how to treat a burn?”

“Yes,” you met his eye, “why? Did you not think someone like me would know about the art of healing? That it would be too grotesque for my fragile little soul?”

“No, I just–… I didn’t know that about you,” he leaned back against the table.

“So, what happened out there?” your eyes flicked down to the crimson stain on his ivory tunic.

Letting out a low exhale, a moment passed before he uttered, “I don’t know if maybe we’d been more prepared that we would have been able to win… we tried everything, but it got away… flew out west… with barely even a fucking scratch…” his eyes stayed locked on the same crack in the floor by his boots, “people that I’ve known and fought beside all of my life got turned to ash in seconds… houses were burned down, fields were set a flame… it just doesn’t make sense… none of it does… I’ve studied dragons and never, anywhere, have I come across an account of them just stopping by a town to kill a few folks before up and leaving again. Dragons are greedy, they’re solitary, they’re highly intelligent, I–…” a heavy sigh then seeped from his lungs, “it just doesn’t make sense…”

A knock then echoed at the door.

Clearing the thickness in his throat, Steve lifted his gaze and said, “yes?”

An elderly servant, balancing a tray, creaked the door open, “I thought some refreshments might do you good, your majesty.”

“Thank you, Hilda,” the king mustered a small smile as she sat the pitcher and glasses down beside him before disappearing out the door once more.

Carefully, Steve then peeled his soot and blood-stained tunic over his head and revealed the nasty burn that stretched across his left ribs.

It was terrible, but for a moment you grew thankful for his distracting injury as you tried your hardest not to make the face that his burly physique conjured.

As you began to smear the salve carefully over the burn, a stifled groan slipped out of him at your first touch.

“Sorry,” the muscles in your body tensed as you could only imagine the pain he was in.

“It’s alright,” he uttered through controlled breaths as he watched your fingers glide over the angry blisters that bubbled at his scorched waist.

Popping the cork back into the stout glass container when the salve had been spread over his wound, you then picked up the bandage and your efforts almost caused you to hug him again as you wrapped it around his abdomen.

When the clean cloth was secured and you’d turned to pack the supplies back up, Steve suddenly remembered, “oh, you should probably have this back,” and removed the borrowed chain you’d been too blind to notice dangling from his neck. Placing the necklace in your palm, a small smile twitched at his lip, “thank you for lending it to me. One could always use a little more bravery and not just when an actual dragon’s spewing off fire over your head.”

“I guess so,” your head cocked slightly, unsure what prompted him to say that.

Searching your expression, he said, “you know, because of the rune.”

“What?”

“Because it means courage,” he pointed down to the scratch in the opalescent stone, “did you don't know that?”

“It does?” you glanced down at the necklace like you were seeing it for the first time.

“Yeah. Is that not why you wear it?”

“No, I’ve just always worn it,” your head gently shook from side to side, “kinda thought of it as a good luck charm since it’s the only item of my mother's I’ve ever had…”

“Cosima, are you sure there isn’t anything more we can do to help?” Steve asked the farmer sincerely.

Shaking her head, her grey locks were cropped so short that they only offered a silver shadow of hair, “you’ve already done so much, your majesty.”

Glancing around at the charred remains of the farm that had gotten the brunt of the dragon attack, the king spotted the gloomy girl that shyly shadowed Cosima’s wife as her fingers stayed weaved in the spotted fur of a young sheepdog.

“Is that your granddaughter back there playing with that puppy?”

Glancing back over her shoulder, a sombre smile twitched at her lip, “yeah, that’s our little parsnip.”

“How is she taking it?” he asked slowly.

“I think our attempt at distracting her is actually working, even just a little bit…” her eyes stayed on the dog a moment longer before she glanced back at the king and you beside him, “the attack turned too many children into orphans. We’re staying with the blacksmith and his wife while we rebuild the farm,” she spoke, “and his brother and sister-in-law didn’t make it as well, so now they are taking care of their nephew.”

“Wait, Mary and Richard?” Steve’s eyes widened slightly, “I didn’t know they were among the deceased.”

“I’m sorry to be the one to tell you.”

Standing by his side, you’d let Steve do most of the talking. Not just because he knew the people better, but you also just didn’t know what to say without bursting into tears.

Staring at the kid slightly obscured by her grandmother, your feet couldn’t help but shift closer to her and Steve’s voice, “…I was thinking of gathering the town council again tomorrow if you could spread the word to the rest of the members,” slowly faded away as you neared.

Kneeling down before her, you mustered a gentle smile as you asked, “is this your dog?”

Staring up at you, her weary and bloodshot eyes were wide as she quietly replied, “yes.”

“What’s its name?”

Scarcely breathing in your presence, the girl timidly said, “his name is Oak.”

“Hello, Oak,” you scratched the puppy’s fluffy ear, “aren’t you adorable…”

“Excuse me, what?” you glanced up from the expansive map that screeched across the table of the war room and blinked back at the king.

“I said, what do you think we should do?” Steve repeated, “what do you wanna do?”

“You want my opinion?” your shock shined clear through your tone, “really?”

“Of course, I do.”

Letting your gaze flutter to the seagulls flying by outside the window, you exhaled, “well… I’m not sure what I could do to help. I honestly feel kinda helpless,” you shared, “I’m not a carpenter, I can’t help rebuild the homes that burnt down…” but then an idea tickled the back of your mind, “where is it again that the orphanage is located?”

“In The Dandelion Quarter, down by the docks,” Steve’s chin tilted slightly, “what were you thinking?”

“Well, it’s not much, but I kinda wanna go down there, visit the kids if they’ll let me. I don’t know if that’s dumb, but maybe it wouldn’t be nothing if I put some effort into distracting them a bit or whatever they might need. Is that stupid? To do that for as long as they’ll let me?”

“No,” he shook his head, “no, not at all.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” letting his fingers ghost over the backs of the chairs, he slowly curved around to the side of the table where you stood, “we both have an idea of what it’s like to lose your parents. I think it’s a great idea.”

As your lips twitched up into a smile, so did his.

Though as you stood there and momentarily let yourself disappear into his gaze, a thought struck you and you soon found your lips parting once more.

“Hey, Steve?”

“Hm?” he simply hummed.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah.”

Noticing that you were gnawing at the inside of your cheek, you forced yourself to stop before you uttered, “why is it that you call me dove?”

You didn’t know how long he remained silent, frozen in the depths of the answer your simple question apparently had, but eventually, you heard him say, “I wanna show you something.”

“Alright,” slowly nodded before following him out of the chamber.

You’d never before entered the room he then showed you to, never even realised there was anything down this corridor. Though a bit dusty, the magnificent office he’d led you to only granted you more questions than answers.

“This was my mom’s study,” Steve said slowly as he stepped aside and let you explore the space, “I haven’t changed a thing in here since she died. Everything’s still exactly as she left it.”

As you glanced around the room, from the polished desk to the untouched tea set still sitting by a soft armchair, a painting on the far side wall caught your eye and made all of the hair of your body stand up.

The portrait was in an informal style, depicting a teenage girl with her arm around another. One of them you knew to be the same lady illustrated countless other paintings within the castle, but the other, the young plump woman depicted in a pair of billowy pants, her you recognised as well.

“Oh my–, is that–…” scarcely breathing at all, you tore your stare away from the painting, “Steve, why is there a portrait of my mother in here?”

Sucking in a breath, his low voice then found your ears once more, “because that is a painting of my mother and her best friend.”

“H-her–,” you felt as if the world might fall out from under you, “what?”

“Our mothers were friends,” he shared slowly, “they grew up together.”

With brows tightly knitted together, you blinked between the king and the painting, “she was born here?”

“She was,” he nodded.

“I–… I knew my mom wasn’t from Obelón, but I never knew she was from here…” tears began to blur up your vision as you stared up at the portrait, “this doesn’t make any sense… I always thought my mother hated this kingdom… she was on a diplomatic mission here when she died, trying to stop the war our marriage eventually put an end to.”

“No, she wasn’t,” he softly corrected.

Whipping your head back at him once more, “what?”

“She wasn’t here for any political reason,” he disclosed, “it wasn’t unusual for her to visit her home, but even that wasn’t the reason why she was here when she passed,” he sucked in a breath before continuing, “Y/n, she was trying to escape. Trying to find a way for both her and her children to leave your father.”

“She was? I always thought they were happy together, that they loved each other.”

“They might have in the very beginning, I don’t know,” you slowly sank down into a chair as he spoke, “but I do remember the way that she spoke about him back then and it was with anything but love. I might have been young, but I wasn’t a complete idiot about what was going on around me.”

“You knew her?”

“I did,” he exhaled, “I mean, I was just a small child, but yeah, I remember her well.”

Feeling your body tremble at the discovery, you hazily heard yourself ask, “would you–… could you tell me about her?”

Offering you a small nod, he then sat down in the armchair opposite the one you found yourself in.

“My mom always told me that she and Saoirse were practically attached at the hip as kids. Where the crown princess went, your mother followed and vice versa. But at my mother’s coronation, Saoirse met King Ivan and it didn’t take long before he swept her with him. They tried to keep in contact, the best that they could, but at one point the letters were so few and far in between that my mom had nearly lost all hope in the kinship. But then, one day, after I was born, your mother started coming around again. She became like family to me as well. Taught me how to skip rocks, how to throw a punch, she even told me stories of the gods. But the last time she was here it was different, everything was different… my memories from that far back are fairly spotty, but I still remember every single thing from that night… the night that you were born… when Saoirse realised her fate, she made my mother promise her that she’d look out for you, that she’d protect you no matter what. We tried to keep you here, to keep you from going back to the very place your mom had worked so hard at freeing you from, but at the end of the day, all we had to prove you staying here were the dying words of a mother, not the blood you shared with a king. My mom always kept an eye on you for the remainder of her life. And then she made me promise to do the same.”

Feeling a heavy tear drip from your chin and down into your lap, you uttered, “so, that’s why you married me?”

Meeting your eye, he uttered, “I married you to protect the daughter of a very kind lady I once knew. I married you to keep up a promise I made to my mother.”

“I see…” the fact that he wed you out of kindness and duty somehow didn’t help how overwhelmed you still felt, “I still don’t understand though why you call me dove. I get why you told me all of this, and I’m-… thank you for doing so, but what does it have to do with that nickname?”

Weaving his fingers together, he glanced down at them, “your mom, uh… it’s what she called you whenever she’d talk to her belly,” unclasping his hands, one of them briefly fluttered up to scratch the nape of his neck, “hell, my mom even continued to call you that long after your father gave you a proper name. I didn’t really realise I was doing it, guess it subconsciously just kind of slipped out when I met you, but I can stop if that’s what you’d prefer.”

“No,” you swiftly shook your head, “you don’t have to stop.”

Glancing up at you, he offered a light nod, “alright.”

Letting your vision flutter back to the youthful depiction of your mother, your eyes took in every little detail as a stomach-turning thought haunted your mind till you couldn’t ignore it any longer.

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“…do you remember what chamber it was that she–…” turning your head to meet his gaze, you couldn’t get yourself to finish the sentence, though thankfully, the king didn’t need any more words to understand.

“I do…”

Your eyes flickered to your lap to spot the few splotchy tears that had stained the silk.

“…could you show it to me?”

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solarmorrigan · 3 months

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Actually infertile omega!Steve for the WIP ask thing

Y'know what, you're the only person who's asked about this and this has been sitting in my drafts for months and I don't think I'm ever going to develop it past this point, so! I'm just gonna give you the whole thing

Fair warning, I did write this in the midst of an anxiety attack sometime after one in the morning. It's been edited! But that's pretty much the vibe

[CW: ableism, internalized ableism, uh... sexism? is that a thing I need to warn for in omegaverse? I dunno, it pretty closely mirrors real-world misogynistic views, so heads up]

Give me omega Steve who genuinely will never be able to have children. Who is tentatively excited after the Upside Down and Vecna and everything to get out from under his parents' influence and stop taking the harsh, heavy-duty suppressants that he was too young to have ever really been on in the first place and to get to actually be who he is. To get to freely express his designation

And instead he finds out that his body is fucked up and he'll never have a normal fertility cycle and he'll never be able to have kids

Give me Steve being told by a shitty, prejudiced doctor that it's basically all his fault for all the damage he's done to his own body over the years - the head injuries, the broken bones, the mysterious flesh wounds. Clearly these things upset the balance of his Delicate Omega Body and that's why his reproductive system is all fucked up (couldn't possibly have been the extended use of those suppressant drugs during his developmental years, oh no)

And Steve isn't exactly devastated at first, but he does feel ashamed. He only admits what's happened to Robin and no one else, and no matter how indignant she gets on his behalf, no matter how hard she tries to push him to get a second opinion, he refuses. He doesn't want to hear how bad he's fucked up from anyone else, thank you very much

The devastation dawns on him later, in stages. It occurs to him slowly what he'll never be able to do, the ways in which he'll always be othered by a society that often still values omegas for their fertility, the way his dream of a big family has been completely shattered

And it occurs to him that he'll never be considered a good mate, damaged in so many ways, unable to even offer children in exchange for whatever other shortcomings he has - which means that as soon as Eddie starts showing interest in him, he has to shut it down as quickly as possible

Because of course Eddie's going to want a family one day, and Steve thinks he'll be a great alpha and a great dad, and he deserves that - he deserves someone who can give him that, who can give him all the things A Good Omega should. So no matter how much Steve wants to be with Eddie, no matter how safe and at ease he feels around him, he can't let Eddie think he's a viable option, and pulls away

And Eddie - well, look, if Steve really doesn't want him, then he'll respect that. He can take no for an answer. But Steve has never really given him a clear no so much as he just started distancing himself. Making himself unavailable, no longer sitting next to Eddie when the whole group hangs out, no longer unconsciously curling into his side on movie nights, just - ghosting, essentially. And that, Eddie will not take

So he confronts Steve; he's not aggressive about it, of course, but he makes it clear that he's not leaving until he gets a straight answer. Tells Steve he's been getting some real mixed signals, and does he want Eddie or not?

Steve says Eddie doesn't want him. Eddie calls bullshit. Of course he wants Steve, he's never wanted anything, anyone, in his life like he wants Steve

But if Steve can look Eddie in the eye and tell him that he doesn't want to be with Eddie, then Eddie will go

And Steve - he's never been a good liar. Not when it comes to feelings. He's never been able to lie about that, so he breaks down and admits the truth, instead: he's a fucked up excuse for an omega, he can't have kids, he doesn't really even know how to do the social shit omegas are supposed to know how to do, so. There. So Eddie shouldn't want him

And Eddie is horrified. Not because Steve is "broken," but because of all the hurt he's taken on over the years, because of the way he seems to think it's all his fault, because he thinks his only worth as a mate is in bearing kids or caring for others. As if anything like that would put Eddie off - as if Steve has nothing else to offer

It's a slow process, after that, getting Steve to accept that he's desirable for who he is and not what he can do

It starts with Robin and Eddie teaming up on Steve and eventually getting him to go to another doctor, a better doctor, who promises Steve that what happened to his system is in no way his fault. It goes on with constant reassurance, which Eddie never minds providing (dramatic little shit honestly loves the opportunity to wax rhapsodic about whatever he loves, which very much includes Steve), with an unconditional acceptance from the rest of the group, with the realization that Steve already has a big family (and multiple children; like, seriously. how did he miss that. Eddie loves to tease him about it)

And eventually, when they're ready, it goes on still with the promise that they can adopt, or consider surrogacy, or just kidnap their friends' pups (Steve laughs at the last one, but Eddie notices that he doesn't say no). There is no right way to do it, no perfect way; as long as Steve just keeps being himself, Eddie will never be disappointed

#jessiedressesup #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #omegaverse #stranger things #I hope it's okay that I kinda just dumped an entire mini fic on you??#also if anyone needs this tagged as anything I missed please let me know #solar wrote #eddiesteve #answers from solar #long post

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spectres-n-soap · 3 months

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In The Rain I Cannot Find You - Soap x Reader x Ghost

Content Warnings - Near death experience, Soap is mentioned to be drunk, grief, MW3 is canon

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"Lass?" Soap slurred as he hung off your shoulder. "Ye got a lad back home?"

You rolled your eyes and shrugged him off of you. "I don't and you're drunk."

"Away n' bile yer heid." Soap grumbled and nudged you a little. "How is a lass as bonnie as ye alone?"

You gave him your best signature 'STFU' look while he just grinned back at you. His blue eyes still bright despite being in a dingy, dark pub. The kind of pub you would have avoided going into if not dragged here by the squad. "I'm not alone." you said and dragged out the last word. "I got you, Ghost, Gaz and Price."

Soap laughed, "Thought friendship wasn't in the field manual lass."

"Fuck off MacTavish."

It's raining. Feels like its always raining these days as you get closer to the due date. "Maybe we should turn back." You suggest for a third time.

"No." Simon says, his hands clench the steering wheel harder. Simon knew that the closer you got to Scotland the more anxious you became. He doesn't judge, his stomach had its own pit opening up within it. "A little bit of rain isn't gonna stop us."

You nod and slouch, or at least try, into the seat. You pick at your nails and then tap against the center console. Simon doesn't comment. It hadn't occurred to you until this morning that bringing Simon might make you look bad. You glance over at him, his brown eyes solely on the road. It should be Johnny, you think, taking me to his mum. Not Simon.

Soap pulled you back under cover, "Are ye insane?" he asked with a growl. "Chargin' in there, what was ye thinkin'?" Soap patted you down and searched for any injuries.

" 'M fine Soap." you huffed and pushed him away, "Dunno why you care so much." You muttered as you refill your ammo.

"Ye don't know- Bleedin' Christ lass." Soap laughed as he shook his head.

"What?"

"Nothin'." Soap muttered, "Yer not broken?"

"Right as rain Soap."

"Lets head to the safe house then."

The house is the same as you remember. That fact makes your stomach folds in on itself. Its just so normal. You take a deep breath in before getting out of the truck. You can't help but think about the two reason you've had to come here. Death and life, two sides of the same coin. You hobble up the porch steps and only knock once before its swinging open. Its not Johnny's mother who opens it or stands there.

"Johnny?" you mutter, meeting the gaze of the same blue eyes who once looked at you with love. The confusion clears away as you realize this is his Da.

"No lass." his Da mutters, his eyes filling with despair. He looks at your pregnant stomach, "That my sons bairn?" You nod, mouth going dry as he steps aside and opens the door wider. You look back to Simon who nods and gestures for you to go.

"Soap?" you whispered, your breath fogged in the air. It was fucking freezing. Swamps? Sure. The desert, the rain forest, urban sprawl? You could handle all those things but the constant freezing cold of Siberia was something you loathed. There's cold and then there this. "Soap?"

"Lass ye won't fall asleep if you keep talkin'." Soap replied as he rolled over to face you.

"I'm fucking freezing." you chattered out. You didn't give a choice as you ditched your sleeping bag and wiggled into his. "Say something and I'll bury you in the snow."

"Aye, I'll be quiet." Soap muttered as he pulled you closer somehow. He was remarkably warm. Like some kind of heater. You wrapped your arms around him and then shoved your hands down his shirt. You laughed as he yelped and cursed at you.

You sit at their table as his Mum and Da whisper to each other in the kitchen. You can hear a TV playing upstairs, a video game you deduce. They still have little ones growing up. Your heart clenches, they lost their big brother. Maybe even an uncle.

Finally his Mum comes out with a plate of snacks and some lovely smelling tea. "I'm glad you texted me." his Mum says as she sits down. "Do you know the bairns gender?"

"No ma'am."

"Oh don't call me that." she says, a fain smile on her lips, "Not quiet that old yet." a silence falls between the two of you.

"You- You must have more questions besides that." you say.

"I'll be honest lass, he wrote home a lot. So many letters talk about you and his Lieutenant." she places a hand on yours, "I suspected there was something going on. Ye showing up o my porch just confirmed what I thought."

"Your not upset?" you carefully ask.

"Yer the lass he loved. Ye carry his bairn and contacted us despite having the choice not to." she smiles despite the pools of grief in her eyes, "Far as I'm concerned, yer part of this family."

it hits you hard, her words batter down every wall you had quickly built in the last nine months. The tears come quick and without warning. You sniffle as a way to fight off the sobbing.

"Lass?" his Da comes from the kitchen, "Are ye okay?"

You shake your head and arms immediately envelope you. His mum smells like rain and cookie dough you realize. "You don't have to be alone in this." she whispers.

"I'm not alone." You mutter, mind jumping to Simon. Simon who love Johnny as much as you do, who helped you paint and set up the nursey, hold your hair and rushes over from just one call.

You dragged Soap from the fire and winced as the flames licked at your hands. "C'mon you asshole." you snarled before you finally recused him from the burning warehouse. A trap, a god damn trap that might've done its job if it hadn't been horribly rigged.

You put two fingers to his throat then ripped off his vest. "Damn it Johnny." you growled as you begin to do cpr. "You aren't allowed to leave me in this cold wasteland." you counted the chest compressions. 26, 27, 28, 29, 30. You pressed your lips to his while you pinched his nose close. You pushed two breaths into him before resuming the rhythmic chest compressions. "Fucking black ops." you muttered as you repeated the process.

Your heart pounded against your chest, tears filled your eyes. 28, 29, 30, then two breaths. Repeat, repeat, repeat. A sob got caught in your throat, your arms ached and your hands had gone numb from the freezing cold. "Johnny please."

You put your lips to his, plugged his nose and breathed. Finally, he coughed and rolled over to vomit as you sat back on your feet and cried.

#john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #soap #call of duty #cod #john soap mctavish x you #ghost x reader #mw3 spoilers #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #ghost x soap x reader #ghost x you

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carigm · 3 months

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MAJOR POTENTIAL SPOILERS/LEAKS REGARDING S5 (WARNING)

Last Spring/Summer, a semi popular fandom account on Twitter got sent some leaks about S5, focused on the first half of the season. At this time, many fandom accounts were receiving supposed leaks, so our attention was a bit scattered and we didn’t focus on any of them too much. A popular leak account on Twitter (unrelated to ST) also mentioned that they had gotten the first half of S5 leaked, and that this source is “never wrong”. Now, it is hard to tell if these leaks are the same as the ones that the specific fandom account I’m talking about received, but something to keep in mind. Her leaks were given to her by a person named James (which I assume is a fake name). These leaks were also posted on Reddit, last year, by her (the person in the fandom that got the leaks from James) but some major things were omitted in that post. I’m gonna leave a link here in case you guys want to read the discussion.

I’m sharing these leaks with you because some things from them are kinda lining up with what we’re seeing from S5 production. Keep in mind that these could be fake/wrong, and James himself said he didn’t have info on the last couple of scripts.

According to James, Mike dies in Ep. 3. I’m adding more screenshots later for more context, but the gist of these leaks is that Mike bites it, mlvn never breakup nor do they get a resolution, and Byler is left up to interpretation but never really happens. (I don’t really need to get into how shitty this all is writing wise)

Let’s go over the things these leaks might have potentially gotten right, according to what we know so far.

1. James said that the time jump would occur in ep. 1, after an establishing scene where S4 left off. He said the time jump would place us in late 1987/early 1988. He also mentioned there would be a series of flashbacks showcasing stuff from before the time jump. The dates he gave do seem to be accurate, and David Harbour had a shaved head right before they went into filming, which could imply pre time jump scenes.

2. According to him, after Mike dies, they find a letter he had been writing. Some of us were theorizing Finn had a letter in his back pocket in those rooftop pics. Could’ve also been Finn’s script and he just stuck it there (who knows).

3. He said that Joyce gets badly injured in ep.3, and since there’s speculation Winona was seen filming at the hospital, some people think that means she was taken there because of her injury. It’s important to notice that Natalia, Cara, and Finn were also supposedly seen filming at the hospital, and that the production called for many extras for nurses and paramedics. So whatever they’re filming at the hospital, it might be bigger than Joyce getting injured in her leg. Let’s remember Max is at the hospital too. I’m not 100% sold on this part of the leaks.

4. Today it was revealed that they’re setting up to film at Stone Mountain. (This is where they filmed UD scenes for S4)

Apparently production might have purple tentacles out already. (UD vines?)

Cara Buono mentioned, in that video shared by Ross Duffer, that she was filming stuff from Ep.2. This was around 2 days ago.

The people that know about the leaks think this is where Mike dies in ep. 3. Here’s some further context:

Here’s some stuff he said about mlvn:

Which is just….meh, because like I said, it doesn’t look like him and El ever breakup before his supposed death. Plus Byler never gets any resolution.

Now some things that might disprove the leaks (I’m trying to be impartial here)

1. These leaks mentioned Argyle a couple of times, saying he has a hero moment at some point. Eduardo made it sound like he’s not coming back to the show, but tbh he could just be lying. He’s listed for ep.2 on IMDb (and yes I know anyone with an account can edit that site)

2. These leaks say that Mike is very insufferable for the 3 episodes he’s alive, basically lashing out at everyone, specially El, and just overall behaving like an asshole. I really didn’t get that from the ElMike rooftop scene, in fact he seemed very gentle with her. People that know about these leaks think that the rooftop scene is Mike maybe apologizing to El and them having a heart to heart, right before he dies (no comment).

All in all, if Mike is dying this early, I’m sure we’ll know soon enough. The rest of the cast is gonna be filming for like a year, and Finn will be done in like two weeks 💀

I also hope there’s more leaks soon (on Reddit) so that we might compare them to these and see wtf is up.

I know someone is gonna inevitably ask why leaks would be out almost a whole year before they started filming when we usually get them during filming or post production, but I’ve been told these leaks happened around the time the writer’s strike began, which is when they were originally gonna start filming. I was also told other shows had issues with leaks around that same time.

I don’t want to get too much into the truly awful writing we’re facing if these are real but…First, I believe it’s a total disservice to Mike’s character. One of your mains since S1 and you don’t even offer him the option of dying towards the end of the season? Even fucking Eddie got that. Two, it seems like a very easy cop out for not having to make Byler canon. Let’s just have neither ship be endgame and that way we don’t get queerbaiting allegations. It also stands in a zone too close to torture porn for my liking, because sure let’s kill the character two of the most traumatized characters in the history of TV love most. And yes, it’s also a disservice to El and Will’s characters. And lastly, if that supposed letter vaguely alludes Mike having some sort of sexuality problems (we don’t know atp) it is pretty fucked up they just killed him off like that. Sure let’s not explore any of that, but give a half assed explanation via letter ex machina. This is looking like Supernatural finale levels of bad to me.

Another point, I distinctly remember the Duffers saying, after S4, that they could never kill off a character like Mike because it would be too painful, and that ST would cease to be ST and lose its identity. They didn’t want to be like GOT. I sincerely hope they actually meant this and were not trying to be cheeky or whatever the fuck.

It would be genuinely insane, and quite frankly, a highlight of their lack of writing abilities.

I hope the leaks are wrong, but I felt like it was necessary to warn everyone just in case. I know I’m not watching something this awful.

#byler #stranger things #st5 spoilers #st5 leaks #mike wheeler #mileven

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theidiotwhowritesthings · 1 year

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In a Perfect World, You Love Me [i]

din djarin x female!reader

warnings: injury, mentions of blood, cursing, derogatory name calling, forced drug exposure, hallucinations, light smut, angst, and some angst, and a little more angst just to top it off (actually this isn’t nearly as heartbreaking as some stuff i’ve written before lol), self doubt, anxiety, also cobb vanth is here. it’s not a warning but i love him so i wanted to mention it.🤷🏻‍♀️

word count: 6,961

Summary: On the way to visit an old friend, you and Mando find trouble. Both of you are subjected to a drug that puts you in your perfect world. But, when you can’t tell what’s real and what isn’t, how do you know what to trust?

a/n: bitches be planning out short drabbles about heart break only for it to turn into a long wordy mess. it’s me. i’m bitches. anybody know the show supernatural? it’s a show about like dramatic ass sad brothers who travel the country fighting monsters? (i know you know i’m being sarcastic). i watched that one episode where the djinn puts dean in like a dream world and it inspired this. i wanted to name it ‘din djarin’s djinn dream’ but that seemed a bit too on the nose.

“sometimes it is not love that breaks your heart. it is disappointment.”

-r.m. drake

Grogu was safe. That was the first thought that came to mind. You were so incredibly grateful that Mando had decided to leave the small child with Peli at the shop. It had been a last minute call. Weirdly, you were also thankful that you hadn’t stayed behind. You nearly did. Traveling through the Dune Sea was an absolutely miserable experience between the heat and the sand. It would have been so much more comfortable to just sit in the shop, cuddle with Grogu, and watch Peli con her customers.

However, when Mando mentioned he was going to Mos Pelgo you jumped at the chance to visit Cobb Vanth. It had been ages since you last saw the man, and you were eager to catch up with the marshal. So you climbed onto Mando’s rented land speeder, wrapped your arms around his beskar armor, and the two of you set off. What was supposed to be a simple day trip to greet an old friend and ask for a favor turned into a Maker forsaken nightmare.

Your face was throbbing in pain, you tasted blood in your mouth, and you were fairly certain your right wrist was broken based on the swelling and discoloration. Despite all of that, despite the pain and fear, the thought occurred to you once more. You were so thankful you were here.

“How pathetic.” The smuggler cackled amongst his small crew. “You’re going to protect the Mandalorian from us? You dumb bitch.”

Five dangerous men stood at the rim of the pit you were trapped in while Mando laid motionless behind you. There was a bit of blood pooling from out of the bottom of his helmet, onto the sand, and the only comfort you had that Mando was still with you was the slow rise and fall of his chest.

The smugglers had set a trap that Mando and you had fallen right into. As your land speeder tripped a wire it caused a blast that had both of you falling into a pit. The damned thing was deep enough to leave both of you injured and you prayed that your injuries were worse than Mando’s and he was just out cold for a moment. Your attackers began to argue amongst one another and you stayed on high alert. Mando and you were fish in a barrel. They could rain blaster fire down on you and there would be nothing you could do about it. The only reason you hadn’t grabbed Mando’s blaster to fire up is because you didn’t want to trigger a massacre.

“Shoot her dead then climb down and collect the beskar. Easy.” One smuggler scoffed and pulled out his blaster. You flinched but the loudest of the men, the leader, shoved the blaster’s aim away from you. “What?”

“The moment we try and get off world we’re gonna get stopped by those damned pirates again.” He snapped. “We keep the girl alive and hand her over as the tax we pay to pass free. We keep all the Mandalorian’s armor to ourselves.”

“Who’d want a bitch over beskar?”

“Oh, trust me.” The lead smuggler chuckled and the sound made you cringe. You set your hand in Mando’s gloved one and wished more than anything his grip would tighten around you rather than stay limp. “I know the man running the show right now, and he’s got a weakness for pretty little things.”

You tried to hide the tremble that shook your frame and you whispered for Mando to wake up⏤ for him to hear you. The lead smuggler opened his bag and you grasped Mando’s blaster. As threateningly as you could manage, you barked out. “You come down here and I’ll kill you. You hear me?!”

“Aw, she’s got some bite. Maybe we should keep her instead.”

“Shut the hell up.” The lead snapped and continued to root through his bag. “Where the kriff is that damned spice bomb?” Your eyebrows furrowed. Spice was bad news. It wasn’t something you ever wanted to touch. You had seen what the addiction could do to people, and you had a very bad feeling about what a spice bomb would be. “There it is.”

Panic hit you, and you lifted the blaster to start firing but the leader tossed a glowing red ball down into the pit and the smugglers dove away from the hole. The ball exploded mid way down into a cloud of red dust that rained down on you and Mando. You tried to cover your mouth and nose with the bottom of your shirt, but it was to no avail. Your entire body grew heavy, collapsing on top of Mando’s chest, and a sharp, tingling sensation washed over you before your eyes fell shut.

Din woke with a start⏤ panting and desperate for air. His mind was filled with a heavy fog that he tried to swim through to gather his bearings. There had been a wire. Din noticed it much too late and he remembered the ground swallowing you and him whole. You. Your scream was the last thing he could recall.

His hands drifted to his face and Din hated that it was only then that he noticed he wasn’t wearing a helmet. He blamed the fog. Din scrambled about the soft bed he realized he was tucked into as he searched the space around him for his armor. Din was in a bedroom he didn’t recognize wearing only a pair of sleep pants. Dank farrik. Din leapt out of bed but stumbled rather than landed with any amount of grace. Where was he? Where were you??

He forced himself to take a steadying breath and centered himself.

The bedroom was small. Only a large bed, a clothing dresser, and two nightstands on either side of the bed. The walls were painted a soft blue, two doors leading out, and one wall had a window that spanned nearly the entire length of the room. Din blinked in confusion. Outside was a bustling city with towering pillar-like buildings and early morning light spilling down through holes in the upper shelf casting light on a city that was very much alive. Din knew where he was. He just didn’t know how he got here or how this was even possible.

“Sundari?” He breathed in shock. Din had only seen images of the cities of Mandalore. Sundari, the domed capital city, being the most infamous of all. This must have been a dream. Exactly how hard had he hit his head in the fall?

Din, in all his distraction, hadn’t even noticed the sound of running water until it stopped. He spun on his heel and stared at the door in the corner which must have led into a fresher. Din wasn’t alone. His hand snapped to his hip for his blaster but met air. Maker, he’d be happy when this concussion finally passed. He scanned the room for any kind of weapon he could use and as he grasped the nightstand drawer he froze. Sitting on top of the small table was a holo image being projected up from a disk as decor.

It was a photo of you and Grogu. Din narrowed his eyes at it in confusion. The two of you were at a park of some kind, but he couldn’t recall where or when this had occurred. The door opened, making Din jump in surprise. Fine, concussion or not, he’d fight his way out by hand. However, as if he couldn’t possibly be caught more off guard, you stepped out of the bathroom wearing only a towel.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did I wake you up?” You stepped toward him and Din stayed frozen in place. Your hands came up to run across his bare chest before settling on his waist where you continued to trace your fingertips up and down in a repetitive pattern. There was so much happening at once that Din didn’t even know what to think. It didn’t help that the moment your skin touched his, his mind seemed to short circuit. “I was trying to let you sleep in for at least a little.”

Ever since you had confessed to him weeks ago that you wanted more than just a friendship Din had been plagued with dreams of you. Visions of you moaning under him as he buried himself into your warmth, of you riding his cock while his hands explored your body, of him simply holding you in his arms and memorizing your features unimpeded by his helmet. But never had it ever felt this real.

“Din?” You tilted your head. Hearing his name from your lips, he shuddered. How was this happening? You staring up at his bare face and whispering his name in concern.

Din tried to open his mouth and speak, but his voice had left him. When you confessed to him, it had taken every fiber of his being to not react. As much as he cared about you, as badly as he wanted you, he knew it was a bad idea. Din knew he had to draw a line to keep you safe. He was dangerous and Din knew it was selfish of him to keep you and Grogu around despite that. He always figured the two of you would go your separate ways when the jedi were found and Grogu was delivered, but Din would never be able to say good-bye to you if he crossed that line. So he lied. Told you he didn’t feel the same and walked away leaving you teary eyed and broken hearted.

You frowned. Your eyebrows furrowed and he had the overwhelming urge to smooth out your brow with his fingers. Trace every inch of your face with his hands. “You look sad, love.” You lifted your hands to cup his face. “Did you have that nightmare again?”

“Wh⏤What?” Din’s voice was quiet and ragged.

“We’re safe now. You don’t have to worry.” You caressed his cheek. “Me, you, and Grogu. We’re all safe. We have a home. Our days of running are over.”

Din shook his head. “No, no. We were in the Dune Sea. I⏤I missed the trip wire and we fell. You were hurt. We⏤”

“Din, that was so long ago. Out of all the bantha shit we’ve dealt with I’m surprised that memory is the one plaguing you.” You said.

Din pulled out of your arms. “It wasn’t. It just happened. You’re lost⏤ You’re hurt. I have to⏤”

“I’m not lost. I’m not hurt. I’m safe, right here with you, in our home. Grogu is still sleeping down the hall. There’s no place safer for our son and I.” You set your hands on his chest once more. “Grogu with his buir, and I with my riduur.”

Din was so shocked by the Mando’a that left your lips that he didn’t even register the soft kiss you pressed in the middle of his chest. Right where his iron heart would be if he had his armor on. You stepped away from him, walking to the dresser off to the side, and Din watched you go until you let the towel fall from your body. He forced his gaze up to the ceiling to keep from staring. Something felt wrong. Was this a dream? Was he dead?

Din didn’t trust the world around him.

You startled awake. A cloud of panic and fear drowning you.

“Mando!?” The nickname left your lips before you even registered a thought. You scrambled to sit up, arms reaching out to try and find purchase, but it was too dark to see anything. Even without your sight, something felt familiar about the material under your body and the comforting smell surrounding you, but the last memory of the smugglers dropping the spice bomb had too much adrenaline rushing through your body for you to think properly.

The wall in front of you shot up with a metallic click and a light blinded you. Hands grabbed your calves and you screamed again trying to kick them off. “Mesh’la! You’re safe!” Mando’s modulated voice filled the air. “You’re on the Razor Crest. You’re in my bunk.”

Your eyes adjusted to the light and you recognized your setting. That’s why it was familiar. Mando’s scent surrounded you as you were nestled in the blankets and pillow he used to sleep. Standing at the bunk’s entrance was the Mandalorian himself. He looked unharmed, but he always looked unharmed when he was covered from head to toe in his beskar.

“Mando!” You cried in alarm and launched yourself at him. He didn’t complain when you wrapped your arms around him tightly. Mando simply held onto you and kept you from knocking him over. This should be awkward considering how he had bluntly said he felt nothing for you only weeks ago. But, you were so relieved that he was safe and alive that you didn’t care. His hands rubbed your back soothingly as he mumbled soft reassurances. “I thought you⏤ I thought we⏤”

“We’re safe, mesh’la.” Mando replied.

You leaned back and he kept his arms around you. “What happened? The last thing I remember…” It hurt to try and pull the memory out of your own head. Spice bomb. Red dust had rained over you and Mando. You passed out on top of him. “The⏤The bomb.”

“It knocked you out.” Mando said. “My helmet filtered it out, I think. I woke up with you on top of me and the smugglers were climbing down. We fought. I won. Then I carried you back to Peli’s.”

“All of that happened?”

“We’re in hyperspace now.”

“How,” You shook your head, “How long was I out?”

“Two days. The spice hit your systems hard. I was⏤” Mando cleared his throat, the sound scratchy through the modulator. “I was worried about you, mesh’la.”

It was only then you realized you still had your hands resting on his shoulders and he had his own wrapped around your waist as you sat on your knees⏤ the bunk making the two of you eye level. You swallowed nervously. “I, uh, it was you I was worried about. Your head. I thought I saw blood when you were out cold.”

“Small injury. Only took one round of bacta to clear up.”

“Good.”

“You, on the other hand,” Mando mumbled. He brushed his gloved fingers across your face. The touch lingered on your cheekbone. The same one that had hit the ground hard enough to make your face throb. Mando pulled his other hand away to wrap around your non-bruised and non-swollen wrist. How much bacta had he used to get all your injuries healed in two days? “Mesh’la, I am so sorry.”

You shook your head. “None of that was your fault.”

Mando kept quiet, as if he didn’t agree but didn’t know what else to say. The sound of a soft coo made you lean forward and peer around the edge of the bunk where Grogu was standing by the ladder leading up to the cockpit. He lifted his arms and waddled closer. Mando released you to pick the small child up. Grogu whined until Mando set him in your lap and you didn’t hesitate to cuddle the boy to your chest.

Thank the Maker, he hadn’t been with the two of you. You let out another sigh of relief. It seemed like you and Mando had gotten out of the pit by luck alone and you don’t know what you would’ve done if Grogu had been harmed during the whole thing.

“Here. Let’s get you some food.” Mando set a hand on your elbow to help you slide out of the bunk. What caught you off guard was when he let his hand travel from your arm to your lower back as he led you toward the ladder. You couldn’t help but let your eyes wander over his entire frame. Mando was a good man. It wasn’t the shiny, silver metal of a Mandalorian you were attracted to or the reputation of a dangerous and strong bounty hunter. You had fallen for the kind and protective man who hid under both of those roles. Mando’s head turned to stare back at you and a thrill went down your spine. He whispered your name.

You took a step away and cleared your throat. Mando let his arm fall away. Your obsession with him, your stupid idiotic crush on him, had you misreading signals left and right. The only reason you had confessed was because you convinced yourself that he was shooting you lingering looks and that every brush of his hand against you was purposeful and not a mistake made in passing.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled. Mando had made his position clear, and you were done crossing the lines and boundaries he had set.

“Can you get up to the flight deck alright?” Mando asked and you nodded. “I’ll bring you something to eat.”

Mando tilted his head toward the ladder and he waited until you began to climb⏤ as if he was worried you’d fall off mid-way up. When you got upstairs, you settled into the co-pilot’s chair with Grogu in your lap and stared out at the blurring lines of hyperspace. A small smile settled on your features.

The world around you was right again.

Din felt more like himself once he had his armor on. It still felt like the world around him was spinning and nothing made sense, but his beskar was like a heavy, impenetrable comfort blanket. He sat in a kitchen, helmet on, as he stared out at Sundari through a window that sat near a dining table. It seemed the home around him was part of a tower inside the domed city, and Din still couldn’t wrap his brain around that. The sound of footsteps startled him and he turned in time to see you padding down the hall with Grogu in your arms. He pushed to stand⏤ seeing the small child putting him at ease.

“Why do you have your helmet on?” You asked after handing Grogu to him. The child bounced in his arms chanting a recognizable sound asking for food. “Are you leaving already? Don’t you want breakfast?”

Din stayed quiet. You moved around the kitchen with the ease of someone who did this regularly, and he watched you make a meal. It didn’t make sense, he didn’t understand, but he couldn’t deny the attraction he felt toward you being so domestic. Especially after you had just claimed that he was your partner, your husband, your riduur.

“Come here, cutie.” You cooed to Grogu and he let you take the boy from him. You set him in a little high chair and set a bowl of food in front of him. As per usual, Grogu didn’t hesitate to begin scarfing down what was in front of him. You lovingly pressed a kiss to his head then walked over to lean at the corner of the kitchen island next to him. “Din, please talk to me.” He clenched and unclenched his fists. “You’re starting to scare me.”

“I’m sorry, Mesh’la.” He sighed.

You had shifted even closer to the bar stool he sat on. Din tensed when your hands settled on his thighs and you stepped between them. Slowly, you took his hand in yours and began to peel his gloves off. Din sucked in a breath, but couldn’t find a complaint to speak. You did the same thing with his other hand. Finally, your hands rested on his helmet, but you didn’t move. Not until Din gave a small nod. You pulled his helmet off carefully, respectfully resting it on the counter, and Din felt his features soften as he stared at you. Maker, you were beautiful.

“Din, listen to me, I love you.” You said. A pretty smile spread across your features and you took his face between your hands. “But if you don’t tell me what’s going on, I am going to kick your ass.” He chuckled and leaned into your touch. Was Din losing his mind? If this was insanity, it felt so good that Din really didn't think he minded. “Are you… Are you having one of your mornings?”

“One of my… mornings?” Din furrowed his brow.

“You know, when the nightmare doesn’t end.” You whispered.

Din shook his head. “This isn’t a nightmare. It’s a dream. A dream I don’t deserve.” He let his hands rest on top of yours with the plan to pull them away, but he was too weak to actually go through with it. Din sighed, “I lied to you.” A flash of confusion crossed your features. “I said I didn’t care about you in the same way you felt about me, but it was a lie. From the moment you stepped onto the Razor Crest I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind. Mesh’la, you are my world.”

“Din, are you…” You paused then a small laugh left you, “Maker, are you talking about when we were trying to get to Mos Pelgo, still? I confessed to you and then we got caught weeks later and…” You shook your head. “Don’t scare me like that. When you said you were sorry and you lied, I was worried something had happened. It’s just a bad morning. They always pass.”

“What are you talking about?” Din asked.

“Fine. I’ll jump start your memory.” You pushed up on your tiptoes and then sat on his thigh. Naturally, his hands went around your waist to keep you from falling and your hands wrapped around his neck. “You confessed to me. It happened months later. You’re an incredible bounty hunter, but you move slow as hell, Din.” He narrowed his eyes. “It was right after we decided to keep Grogu with us. Become a real family. For the record, it also took you way too long to propose to me too.”

Din could picture it all and it made everything so much more confusing. Had that happened? No. Not yet. Yet? Had he meant to think of that word? Yet? Din wasn’t planning any of that, but it sounded right. No part of him thought he deserved you or Grogu, but Maker this was what he always wanted. It was the life he craved, but was too broken to admit aloud.

“But,” Din tried to find a tether to hold him in reality, “Sundari. We live in Sundari? Mandalore is dead.”

“No, it wasn’t. The poison the Empire caused faded away. We rebuilt.” The sound of a door chime made you glance over your shoulder. “Kriff. She’s here early.” You slid off his lap. “Grogu, we’re gonna be late! Let’s get you cleaned up so Soran can walk you to school.”

Din watched you scoop Grogu up, the boy gave him a wave he returned numbly, and the two of you disappeared down the hall. Were his fears the reason he was confused? What if what you said was right? He was just trapped in a nightmare and it was keeping him from living his life. Din had finally taken the leap, taken the chance, and found his perfect home. Now, his fear was crawling back and trying to ruin it again. Din always did this. He always fought himself. It was why he had denied your initial confession and wasted so much time in the first place.

Moments passed, he could hear you moving around the home with Grogu. Until finally the door chime rang again. Din stood up and faced the hall. Seconds later, you stepped back into view. You gave him a bright smile.

“Alright, where were we?”

Fully accepting this for what it was, Din marched toward you. Your feet came to a stuttering stop and an excitement filled your eyes. You knew what he was doing before even he knew entirely. Din basically tackled you, pressing your body as tight as he could to his chest, and crushed his lips to yours. You responded immediately. Your hands wrapping around his neck as his tongue found it’s way past your lips. Din let his hands trail down your back, over your ass, under your thighs, and with ease began to pick you up. Just like with the kiss, you were on the same page as he was. You jumped just enough for him to lift you off the ground and your legs wrapped around his waist⏤ locking your ankles at his back.

Din had planned to carry you down the hall, back to the bedroom, but he felt you grind against him and that plan went right out the window. He slammed you against the wall, lips leaving yours to trail down your neck. Maker, he wanted you. Keeping you pinned to the wall with his hips, relying on your grip around his waist and neck, Din pulled his hands away so he could grab the collar of your shirt. He ripped it down to the middle of your torso so his mouth could reach your breasts.

“I liked that shirt, you know.” You gasped, but the way you kept trying to find friction against his hard on told him you didn’t like it all that much.

“I’ll buy you a new one.” Din replied before leaving open mouth kisses down your chest. One hand went back to cup around your thigh and the other yanked your breast band down so his mouth could wrap around your nipple. The unholy moan that left your lips nearly made him come undone right then and there.

“You’re going to be late to work. They need you today.”

“Mesh’la, I don’t kriffing care.” Din said after pulling his lips away from your breast. His mouth found its way back to yours and after leaving a messy kiss there he pulled away only far enough to speak. “As far as I’m concerned the only place I’m needed is right between your thighs.”

Din licked into your mouth, and he was startled when your hands untangled from around his neck. Then, with great proficiency, you began to unlatch his armor. His vambrace and left pauldron fell to the ground with a heavy thunk. “How did you do that so fast? How’d you know where the latches were?”

“I’m your wife, dummy.” You unlatched his right one, it joined the other on the floor, then you ripped the cloak out from under the top of his chest piece and pulled down on the collar of his shirt so you could leave too soft, teasing kisses against the hollow of his throat. “Now, either keep carrying me down the hall to our bed or drop me on the floor⏤ I don’t care, I just need you to fuck me.”

Din was not going to make it to the bedroom.

You rose from your seat with Grogu nestled in your arms sleeping. It hadn’t taken long for the boy to fall asleep between the warmth of your arms and the silence of hyperspace. As you drifted toward the door, Mando spoke up.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m gonna put him in his hammock is all.” You whispered.

Mando glanced over his shoulder at you then nodded. “Good. Come back up when you’re done.”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise but you gave him a quiet confirmation before leaving the cockpit. You made your way down the ladder slowly and carefully so you didn’t wake or drop the little green gremlin snoring against your chest. You chuckled and rubbed his back while crossing the cargo hold. When you set him in the hammock, he stirred briefly and you took the time to lightly rock the hammock while humming him a lullaby. Only when you were convinced he had fallen back into a restful sleep did you find your way back to the cockpit.

“He’s down for the count.” You joked and dropped back into your chair.

Mando flipped a few switches on the panel before spinning the pilot’s seat so he was facing you. Your eyes widened and you shifted awkwardly in place. The weight of his heavy stare on you was intense. It burned into you and for a brief second you were sure he could see straight into your soul.

“What’s going on?” You asked. “You okay?”

“I could’ve lost you.” Mando whispered. “I don’t know what I would have done.”

“It’s over, Mando. We don’t have to think about it anymore.”

“It’s not over, mesh’la. There will always be another fight, another opportunity for someone to take you from me.” He argued.

Mando wasn’t wrong. Your lives were a constant battle to maintain the upper hand over all the people trying to take Grogu and harm both of you. It was the exact reason why you had found the courage to confess to him in the first place. You stupidly convinced yourself that you didn’t want to lose anymore time⏤ waste another second. The silence in the cockpit was agonizing. You wanted so badly to break it, but you had no idea what to say to do so.

Luckily, Mando did not have that same problem.

“Come here, mesh’la.” He motioned you toward him with the curling motion of his fingers. You swallowed the lump that had suddenly formed in the middle of your throat like a rock. “Please.” The word was spoken softly, but there was a firm undertone that made it feel less like a request and more like a command. You stood up and took the single shaky step that was required to put you in his reach. Mando’s hands found your hips and he startled you by pulling you into his lap. With a yelp of surprise, you were forced to rest your knees on the outside of his thighs. The moment you were situated Mando spread his own thighs further so each of your legs were pinned between him and the chair and you were even more open to him. “Oh, sweet girl…”

“Mando. What⏤ What are you doing?” You whispered. Your entire face felt hot⏤ kriff, every inch of you felt hot.

He shook his head, his hands roaming up and down your sides, “I never should have said no to you. What happened, it made me realize how much,” Mando raised a gloved hand to your face, “how much I care about you.”

“Wait, really?” You breathed. It was the stupidest kind of response to give and you hated that you just blurted it out. Mando chuckled in response, and you shook your head. “Mando, maybe you’re just… feeling this way because what happened was so fresh. We should give it a little time⏤”

“I spent two days waiting for you to open those pretty eyes for me, sweet girl.” Mando cut in. “I’m not losing another second with you.”

The hand fell from your face to rest on your shoulder and, with the other still on your hip, Mando pressed you down on top of him. He shifted his own hips so he could drag the hard bulge in his pants against your core. A sharp gasp of surprise left your lips. Mando kept you pressed against him and when he dragged his hip against yours again the sensation caused you to groan this time.

“Dank farrik.” Mando grunted as he bucked up against you⏤ this time you moved your own hips to add to the friction and he moaned. The sound of him losing control shot straight to your core and you let your hands rest on his chest so you could grind into him more. Maker, you wanted to hear that sound again.

Mando sat up straight and the only thing keep you from tumbling off his lap was the hand he wrapped around your waist. He reached past you, hands hitting switches and buttons, and suddenly the entire panel of flickering lights went dead. “Mando?” You questioned. He hit one more switch and you glanced over your shoulder to watch as the windows darkened until the lights of hyperspace couldn’t be seen. Nothing could be seen. A hiss of pressure release, then a hand took hold of your jaw to turn you back so you faced forward.

“Mesh’la.” Mando whispered. Before you had only heard his unmodulated voice from a distance, as he was eating out of sight or lying in his bunk with the door closed. But, now it was closer than you could ever imagine. He mumbled your name and you could feel the movement of his lips just barely brushing against yours⏤ his hot breath on your face. “Say you want me, mesh’la.”

You took in a deep breath and nodded. “I want you, Mando. I’ve always wanted you.”

Rather than pressing his lips to yours as you wanted, Mando lifted you with ease and pressed you against the control panel. Something sharp was jabbing you in the back, but you didn’t care. Mando’s leather gloves roughly yanked your pants down, underwear and all. You had lifted your hips just enough to help him, but when you lowered yourself back into a seated position you hissed at the cold metal against your bare skin.

You lifted your hands to find his shoulders, you wanted to feel his face, but Mando’s hands grabbed you by the wrists and pinned them to the panel by your head. He leaned over you and slowly dragged his hard cock, hidden behind his flight suit, against your already dripping wet lips⏤ but it wasn’t the only lips you wanted touched.

“Kiss me, please.” You begged and tried to lift your head to find his, but he leaned back just enough to avoid you. “Mando, I want to feel you⏤ all of you⏤ please.”

“Not yet, mesh’la. Be patient.” His entire weight was pressing down on you. “Good girls are patient, and only good girls get rewarded. Is that what you want, mesh’la? To be my good girl?” You nodded, breathless from the agonizingly slow way he was grinding into you. “Words, mesh’la.”

“Yes.” You gasped. “Please, Mando, please⏤”

“How lucky am I?” Mando hummed. “To have such a pretty girl begging under me. I’ve wanted to make you fall apart since the moment you stepped onto my ship.” You tensed as an alarm began to faintly ring at the back of your mind. Something inside you was trying to warn you. Mando kept whispering loving words on top of you. “You’re mine, mesh’la. You’ve always been mine and you always will be.”

“No.” You tried to squirm out from under him, but Mando was much too large and much too heavy for you to even move an inch. “No, no, no.”

Taking the hint, Mando released your hands and jumped away from you. Breathless, you tried to sit up and gather your bearings. “What is it, mesh’la? What’s wrong?”

“This is wrong.” You shook your head.

“No, it’s right. This is what you want, this is what I want.”

“No, it’s not.” A sob left you. “You don’t want me. You said so yourself. You don’t want me. This isn’t right.” Your head was beginning to pound in pain and Mando’s voice sounded like it was suddenly far away. The cold metal under you was beginning to turn hot and the firm smoothness of the control panel was taking on a new texture⏤ something grainy that shifted under you. The darkness turned to a blinding light and you gasped as pain began to settle into you.

Your face was throbbing, you tasted blood in your mouth, and your right wrist was aching. Now you had a pounding headache as well. You blinked your eyes, trying to clear the blurriness out of your vision, and you saw a man climbing down a ladder into the pit you laid in. The smugglers. The spice bomb. Your hand tightened around the blaster you had taken from Mando and you lifted your heavy arm to fire at the man. It hit him in the back and he fell from the ladder and landed motionless only a few feet away.

You blindly fired shots up to the ridge of the pit. Over and over⏤ not knowing what else to do. You fired so much that you never noticed the sound of someone else’s blaster mingling with yours. A familiar voice was calling out to you, but it wasn’t Mando. Your heavy arm sunk back into the sand, blaster falling loose, and your eyes began to droop in exhaustion.

You wished it was Mando calling for you.

You woke up slowly. Your entire body was sore and it took straight willpower to get your eyes to stay open. There was a thin cot underneath you and a flickering fire ahead of you. A groan fell from your lips as you tried to sit up.

“Whoa, whoa,” A familiar voice said, “Slow down there, little lady.”

“Vanth?” You tried to turn to find your friend, but a warm hand kept you from moving too much. Suddenly, Cobb Vanth was kneeling beside you with a charming grin. Your entire body sagged in relief. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you right now.”

Vanth rubbed his jawline and gave you a wink, “I am much better looking than those damned smugglers, huh? How’d you and Mando get caught up in all that mess?”

“Mando!” You sat up quickly, immediately wincing when a sharp pain shot through you.

“Maker, darling.” Vanth scolded. “Your tin man is doing just fine. He’ll feel just as shitty as you when he finally wakes up.”

You glanced around and just as Vanth said your companion was lying on a small rolled out cot of his own. The firelight dancing as it reflected off his beskar. “He’s really okay? I think he had a head injury.”

“He’s fine. I promise you.” You nodded and Vanth offered you a canteen of water. As he asked, you began to tell him the story of what happened. It didn’t take long until you reached the point of the story that made your cheeks warm. Vanth noticed your hesitance and bumped his shoulder into yours. “Say your piece.”

“They threw a spice bomb and… and some weird shit happened.”

“Yeah, a spice bomb will do that to you.”

“What is it?”

“Depends. What’d you see?”

You paused before shrugging. “I was on the Razor Crest. Traveling with Mando and Grogu. Like always. It was… it felt so real.”

“Probably glitterstim then.” Vanth made you drink more water. “I have no idea how you broke out of it.”

“What do you mean?”

“The drug should’ve put you under. Place you in a happy haze of the thing you want most and trap you there for as long as the drug runs its course. Too much and you can end up dying in that perfect little world.” Vanth explained. “Usually, you can’t get out unless someone hits you with an antidote. Something to cancel the effects of the glitterstim. Unless…”

“Unless?”

“Unless you shock yourself out of it.” Vanth shrugged. “It all happens quick. In the first few minutes you either fall into the spice’s trap or you snap through it. The fact that I saw you wake up and shoot that smuggler is quite the feat, darling. How’d you do it?”

You wrapped your arms around your legs and rested your chin on your knees. The drug in your system deemed your perfect world to be Mando confessing how badly he wanted you. How pathetic was that? You didn’t stay under because even in a drugged out haze your mind knew that it was fake. Mando didn’t want you. Not the way you wanted him. Tears filled your eyes. Vanth didn’t press for you to answer and instead set his arm around your shoulder as a comfort. You leaned into him and fell asleep.

Every single part of Din’s body hurt. It reminded him of when the mudhorn had tossed him around like a ragdoll. Every atom in his body though, despite the pain, screamed danger. Din forced himself to sit up, blaster drawn. He was in the desert, by a fire in the dead of night. Across from him, he saw Cobb Vanth sitting there casually. Din’s blaster was pointed at him, but Vanth just gave him a slight wave.

“Hey there, brother.” He greeted. “You can put the blaster away.”

“What⏤” Din began to ask, but then his eyes landed on you. Your head rested against Vanth’s thigh and he had one hand resting on your shoulder. Part of your face looked bruised and even from this distance he could see your busted lip.

“Smugglers got the jump on y’all. Hit you with a spice bomb.” Din holstered his blaster and cursed. Dank farrik. Whispers of his dream world lingered in his mind and Din had to shake his head to try and rid himself of the way your lips felt against his skin. “You’re lucky.”

“This is lucky?” Din asked dryly. Maker, his body ached.

“Little lady here broke free of the spice dream.” Vanth said. Din’s eyes widened in surprise. He didn’t know what he wanted to know more⏤ what your perfect world had looked like or how you had broken out of it. Vanth’s hand was tracing shapes on your shoulder as you slept and Din frowned at the touch. Coming from an imaginary world where he was fucking you, his wife, to reality where you were sleeping against another man was jarring. “You got stuck in it. Tell me, Mando, what was your perfect world?”

You were. You were his perfect world.

But, Din couldn’t bring himself to admit that in his current reality.

#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #mando #mando x reader #mando x you #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #cobb vanth #din djarin smut #a smidge of angst #idiots in love #pining

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vioartemis · 1 year

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Falling for her (part 2)

(ghostface! Tara Carpenter x fem! reader)

Summary: After months of dating Tara, you find out she killed people, dressed in a Ghostface costume. Looks like you have a type... Part 1 || Part 2 Warnings: blood, injuries, death, angst (English isn't my first language, I'm sorry if there are mistakes or if something doesn't make sense TvT)

It has been five months since you and Tara started dating. Everything was perfect. You dates, the time you spent together, her. It was as if you were living in a dream.

It was rare to see one without the other, you were constantly on each other, cuddling, holding hands, or kissing. Which annoyed your friends, but you didn't care. You were happy with Tara, and hoped it would last.

Even with the recent murders that occurred, you weren't too affected.

Unfortunately, Tara wasn't with you right now, she had to go to the library to study, and you were bored. You thought you might study too, but you couldn't find your notes. Then you remembered where they were.

It was night, and the streets were dark and empty. You shouldn't be outside with a killer on the loose, but you really needed these damn sheets of paper. If only she didn't forget to give them back to you during the day...

A few days ago, you let one of your classmates, Ava Bennett, borrow your notes so she could complete hers. She wasn't supposed to keep them a whole week.

When you arrived at her house, you were surprised to find the door slightly opened, as if someone forgot to close it. You pushed it hesitantly, not wanting to see things you were not supposed to.

The first thing you saw was how messing the house was. Everything was upside down, vases broken on the floor. Suddenly, you heard a sound of broken glass coming from the kitchen.

Without thinking twice, you ran in that direction - dumb decision - only to be met with the sight of Ava's bloody form on the floor. You let out a horrified scream, before realizing she was not alone in the room.

The killer looked at you through his Ghostface mask, tilting his head slightly. You took the taser Sam forced you to carry out of your bag with shaky hands.

Fortunately, the killer ran away, probably thinking you were not alone.

A sudden movement made you jump. It was Ava. She wasn't dead! You let the taser fall to the ground, getting on your knees beside her, applying pressure on her wounds to stop the bleeding with one hand, taking your phone with the other.

You dialed 911.

"Please I need help! M-my friend has been stabbed she's bleeding!" you said as soon as someone picked up, tears in your eyes

"Miss, calm down, what happened exactly?"

"We don't have time for that! She's going to die if you don't come!"

You didn't listen to what the man said to you, quickly giving him the address before putting your phone down and put both of your hands to better use.

You grabbed a towel on the counter and applied more pressure on the bleeding wounds.

"I-it's gonna be okay.. I called 911... they'll be here quickly..." you said, in an attempt to comfort the girl.

Or maybe you were trying to convince yourself everything would be okay.

When the ambulance arrived, followed by the police, your hands and jeans were soaked with the girl's blood. She was still alive, you could feel it.

Some ladies helped you getting up, and led you to the back of an ambulance to see if you were hurt. A police officer then came so you could tell him what happened.

The rest happened really fast; they took your phone and called Sam, registered as the person to call in case of emergency, they told you they would need to keep it as an "evidence". Then Sam arrived.

She talked with a police officer, looking at you with worried eyes, before they finally let her pick you up.

She was about to hug you, but you stopped her, holding your hands in front of you.

"I wouldn't want to ruin your clothes..."

When you finally got home, Tara was waiting for you in the living room. She got up the second she heard the door.

"Y/n! Are you okay??"

She didn't wait for your answer and hugged you tight. The warmth of her body made you feel a little better.

"I have to see my therapist, can you take care of her while I'm gone?"

"You can go.. I'll be fine..." you said before Tara could answer

Sam nodded, still worried, before leaving.

"C'mon, let's clean you up.."

You both went to the bathroom, where Tara helped you take the blood off your hands, before giving you a new pair of jeans and throw the blood stained one.

Then, you headed to your room. You got under the covers, feeling safe with the blanket on you, while Tara sat beside you on the bed, stroking your hair gently.

She placed a soft kiss on your lips.

"You want to talk about it...?"

There was not much to say, as you arrived too late. You told her what you saw, Ava, stabbed several times, laying on the floor of her kitchen.

"He looked at me... he looked at me, and when I took the taser... he just- he ran away..."

"Don't worry, the police will catch this fuckhead soon. We already survived two Ghostface, we can survived one more, don't you think?"

"Yeah, I hope so.."

Then it hit you.

"... How do you know it was Ghostface...?"

You looked at her, sitting up in your bed. She stayed silent.

"Tara, how to do you it was Ghostface...?" your voice broke on the last words

"Y/n I-"

"Answer me."

"..."

That silence said everything. You couldn't hold back your tears.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me..."

"I'm sorry! You weren't supposed to learn it like that... I-"

"I'm not doing that. Not again."

"I- I never would've hurt you I'm not-"

"The last person who said that tried to stab me five minutes later."

"I know but you have to believe me! I love you so much... I would never lay a hand on you-"

"Get out."

"No Y/n please listen..! She wasn't a good person, she-"

"Tara. Get. Out."

The look in your eyes hurt her. You didn't care. You got up. She took a step back, looking at you with teary eyes.

"Y/n please..."

"Get the fuck out of my room."

Without her realizing it, you made her walk out. You slammed the door shut as soon as her back hit the bathroom wall, locking it from inside.

You sat in the opposite corner, knees against your chest, face buried in your arms. Tara was banging on your door, trying to talk to you. You could hear the despair in her voice, the guilt.

But you couldn't do this again.

You covered your ears with your hands, head resting on your knees, tears flooding down your cheeks.

When the door opened, she stopped trying. You didn't hear anything for a solid five minutes, before someone, probably Sam, knocked on your door.

"Please go away..." your voice was low and broken

No one else tried to talk to you after that.

<><><><> ♡ <><><><>

You spent the next three weeks avoiding everyone, especially Tara. You still couldn't believe your sweet girlfriend killed Ava. Maybe she killed the others too. You weren't sure of anything at this point.

Despite all your efforts, one night, Sam managed to catch you in the kitchen, while you were grabbing some food.

"I'm worried about you... you don't talk to anyone, you almost don't eat... What happened that night...?"

"..."

"Y/n please... Tara's not doing well either, she feels really bad... I'm afraid she does something she'll regret... I don't know what she did, but you could talk about this, don't you think...? Or at least talk to me... maybe I can help..."

"You can't help us... We- I have to deal with this myself... But I can't right now, it still hurts too much..."

Before she could add anything, you got back into your room.

What could you do? Tell the police, and send the girl you loved in jail? No, that was not an option.

Forgive her, and hope she doesn't try to kill you? You wanted to. Yet you couldn't help but remember what happened with Amber. You thought you could convince her, and she tried to kill you.

The next day, while you were walking to class, you heard someone call your name. You turned around, already pissed.

"Y/n! Can I talk to you?"

It was Luca Harris, Ava's boyfriend.

"Uh... sure" you sighed

"Can we to go a.. more private place?"

You didn't really understand but you followed him behind the gardener's cabin.

"What do you want..?" you asked

"I'd like to talk about Ava..."

You glupped.

"What about her?"

"I wanted to thank you, for trying to save her."

"How do you know-"

"My dad has friends in the police. They told him they found you next to her, hands covered in her blood, trying to stop the bleeding..."

"That's what happened yeah..."

You didn't see where he was going. The only time you talked to him before was after you walked in on them having sex, to apologize.

"C'mon Y/n... we both know that's a lie"

"What...?"

"My dad's friends told him who you were. Y/n L/n, ex girlfriend of Amber Freeman. The psycho responsible for the Woodsboro massacre last year."

You felt your heart miss a beat.

"W-what are you trying to say...?" you asked

"Isn't it obvious? You killed Ava. Because you're as crazy as your ex. Because you were jealous of her."

"What...? Of course not..! Why would you-"

"Stop lying, I saw how you looked at me when you saw us in Ava's bed. You blushed so hard you were as red as a tomato."

"Because you were fucking naked!" you said, but he wasn't listening to you

"Your girlfriend can't satisfy you, can she? You needed someone else to take care of you properly, I can understand that. But you could've just asked, I would've done it with pleasure."

You tried to back off, but he wasn't ready to let you go.

"Why did you have to kill her? Now I have to kill you too... to avenge her"

Saying that, he took a pocket knife out of his jacket, and pressed a button to open the blade.

Luckily for you, Tara was watching from afar. The shine of the blade caught her attention.

In less than thirty seconds, she was here.

"What exactly do you think you're doing with that knife?" she asked the boy

"Ah, I was wondering when you would come. I was about to slice her open, just like she did to Ava."

"Don't you dare touch her."

"And what are you going to do, huh? Slap my knee? You're like 5'1! No wonder you can't satisfy her."

You tried you take a step closer to Tara, but Luca was faster than you. He put the knife against your throat, pushing the tip slightly into the soft flesh.

Everything happened so fast you barely understood what was going on.

Tara kicked the back of his knees and pulled him by his collar, making him fall slightly backward, before taking the knife out of his hand.

"No one touches my girlfriend dickhead."

With that, she stabbed him in the eye. Blood splattered on her shirt.

His body fell to your feet. He was dead before he even touched the ground.

You started to panic. There was tons of people only a few meters away. The body would be found before the end of the day.

You took a tissue in your pocket before bending down to remove Tara's fingerprints from the knife. Then, you took the boy's hand and wrapped it around the weapon, just in case, before taking off your sweater and throwing it at Tara.

She looked at you, mouth agape.

"Put it on, you're covered in blood."

She did as you told, before asking:

"So you don't hate me...?"

For the first time in weeks, your gaze met hers.

"Of course not..."

You saw her eyes shining a little with hope.

"Y/n I-"

"Can we talk about this later..? After classes? When we will be far away from his dead body?"

You didn't say that in a mean way, just worried someone might come here for whatever reason and catch you.

"Let's go before someone sees us..."

You both headed to class, hoping you didn't leave any evidences next to the body. Every time a teacher spoke, you were scared they had found the body.

Tara, on the other hand, was more relieved than scared. All she could think about was you. You didn't hate her. You gave her your sweater, her favorite one with your perfume on it.

It was too big for her, and you always told her she looked so cute in it. She spent her day thinking about all your dates and the moments you spent together.

Until an announcement was made.

You were in history, one of the only classes you had together, when the speakers turned on. The director started talking. They found the body.

You gave Tara a worried look across the class.

"Classes will end now. You must go home and lock the doors. Don't walk alone, always be with someone. Don't take any risks, if you see something suspect, call the police immediately."

Everyone started to talked as soon as the announcement ended, quickly exiting the classroom to find a friend to walk home with.

You walked to Tara, feeling sick.

"You okay..?"

"Yeah I think... let's just... let's go home..."

She nodded, and was about to take your hand, before stopping, not sure you wanted her to. You looked at her for a second, and took her hand.

"... I'm sorry I didn't try to talk to you... It just brought back memories I wanted to forget..." you said

You were both sitting on your bed, decided to explain yourselves.

"I'm the one who should be apologizing, I knew what Amber did, I saw how you felt after that, and I did the same... But the simple thought of someone wanting to hurt you makes me sick to the core... I... I just wanted to protect you..."

You placed your hand on hers softly.

"Why did you kill Ava..?" you asked gently

"I... I heard them, her boyfriend and her. They were talking about you.. He was telling her what happened at Woodsboro, the murder, that you were Amber's girlfriend, and probably her accomplice... They wanted to blackmail you, using that information..."

You didn't say anything, taking a minute to register the informations.

"And... and the others...?"

Once again, she explained everything to you. These ones wanted to take you away from her. It was true that they had been flirting with you for a month or so, and became more and more insistent.

"... You're not mad...?" she asked

"I can't say I'm happy about that... but you did this to protect me so... Thank you..."

Your lips curled up into a little smile.

"Does that means.. does that means we still have a chance..?"

"At first, when I learnt you did.. what you did, I thought you were like Amber... But I had time to think, the past weeks, and... Now that you told me everything... I realized you couldn't be more different... She was ready to kill me realizing I would leave her... You killed people to protect me from getting hurt, even if it meant me being mad at you"

You brought her hand to your lips, placing a kiss on her knuckles.

"I love you so much Tara... I'm sorry it took me that long to talk with you... but please stop killing people, I don't want to take the risk to lose you..."

"I'll try. For you"

She came closer to you, sitting on your lap, and cupped your cheeks. You tilted your head up slightly to look at her, before her soft lips met yours.

"I missed you" you whispered against her lips

"I missed you too"

[Previous part]

×º°”˜`”°º×•°¯`•• ♡ ••´¯°•×º°”˜`”°º×

By the way, I'm opened to requests, so if there's something you'd like me to write, feel free to ask ;)) you can see who I write for here (along with the rules to request)

@captainbeat @faunusrubyrose

#scream #scream 5 #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x fem reader #ghostface!tara

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mrs-illyrian-baby · 1 month

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The Old Gods and The New - Chapter 15

The Golden Palace | Loki x Reader

Questions are answered at The Golden Palace of the Gods, but some things are best left unsaid.

Warnings: some language and angst, daddy issues but not the fun kinky kind (sorry!).

AN: Not gonna lie I've been nervous to put this one out, I've tried to research and add some gods that to be honest I didn't know much about. This has been a learning process for me! This is intened to be taken in the same vibe as Love & Thunder with depictions being very surface level, just like Thor and Loki aren't exactly as they are in their own mythologies.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics & @reveriesources

Series Masterlist | Loki Masterlist | Masterlist

You had never travelled by Bifröst and, as Thor released your hand, you swore never to do it again. Your head swam with colours, your stomach churning and you regretted the second cookie you’d scarfed down while you and Loki hastily packed and left his cabin.

“How did you fare, Trouble?” Thor laughed, slapping a meaty hand on your arm and peering down at you. At your side, Loki slid his grasp from yours to wrap an arm around your waist, holding you steady against his sturdy body. You were grateful for his grounding presence, the way his sedir seemed to curl around your magic, keeping it from flaring in fear.

“Darling?” Loki pulled you impossibly closer, cupping your cheek with his free hand to look at your queasy expression.

“I’m never, ever, doing that again,” you groaned and the brothers laughed, Thor’s deep chuckle melted into Loki’s softer, more lilting laugh and you couldn’t help but start giggling too, the absurdity of travelling with two gods, on a rainbow bridge, magiced out of thin air was too much and you burst into peals of laughter.

Your laughter echoed back and you finally looked up at the wondrous place Thor had brought you to. The outside of the palatial building was clad entirely in polished gold which shone impossibly in every direction without shadow. Looking up the entire sky seemed to be made of sun, even the idyllic clouds that passed glowed from within. Turrets and spires decorated the outside and a series of walkways, bridges and staircases led the way from various pools, sunken gardens and lush looking courtyards. Everywhere you looked the palace dripped with opulence, every direction spun out into excesses of marble decked luxury.

“Wow.” You stared up, spinning slowly as Loki’s hands kept you steady around your waist, and attempted to take in the magnificence that surrounded you.

“Wow indeed.” Thor patted your shoulder, “this is the Golden Palace, home of the Gods themselves.”

“Which gods?” You asked, not daring to take your eyes from your surroundings. You knew that Thor and Loki had once lived in Asgard, as had you for a short time, though your memories gave you only glimpses of that time.

“All of the gods, I suppose, should they wish it, they come here to meet, socialise, and relax. So many gods are no longer worshipped and, until they fade from memory, they come here.”

At that you stopped moving and Loki, ever careful of you, took your hand again.

“What do you mean, until they fade from memory?”

“Well, ásynja, gods are only as good as their worshippers. So if a god is no longer worshipped they become weak, they begin to age. Some slip into deep sleeps and some become mortal and die.” Loki said, quietly.

To speak of such a death was not polite within earshot of other deities, it was a fear that gripped them all, and the brothers kept their voices unusually quiet as they explained.

You were stunned, it hadn’t occurred to you that gods could truly die. You’d seen Thor injured once before and you supposed should the injury be extreme enough perhaps they would die. But to fade into obscurity first. To be forgotten. That seemed a terrible way to go.

It is, darling, there is no entrance to Valhalla for those who become dust

Loki cupped your cheek, “my sweet darling, please don’t be upset. There are many ways for gods to be worshipped. Take your museums and galleries. When you stand before a Botecelli and gaze upon Venus, your reverence keeps her strong.”

“So art, history, documentaries…”

“Have you not noticed, we gods are vain creatures,” Loki smiled, preening comically and Thor laughed too, flexing his muscles.

It made your heart clench. How could the Avengers treat him as such a threat, when he was so funny and kind and witty. Mischievous? Yes. But evil? Never.

“That does help, Loki. Thank you.” You stood on your toes and kissed him gently while Thor made a show of looking disgusted behind you. “But, wait, if any gods can come here, why didn’t you come here after Ragnarok?”

“Ah - yes, well, there was the suggestion of that.” Thor looked at his brother, “I had already abdicated but, I like Midgard and I would have had to leave my people behind. I would not enjoy myself without them.”

Loki nodded in agreement, “I know what the Midgardian’s think of me, darling, but I can assure you my sentiments were very much the same. Though I am no longer in line to the throne -”

“You never were,” Thor muttered and Loki shot him a glare.

“- as I was saying, the throne matters not. What I truly care about is Asgard, whether that is a place or a people, I wished to remain and rebuild alongside my brother and the King.”

It wasn’t a surprise to you that Loki was sentimental, but it made your heart squeeze to hear him talk about his responsibilities and loyalties. This was the man, you loved and you desperately wanted to tell him. To share with him how deep your feelings ran, how clearly you saw his heart. But there were so many unanswered questions and Loki would never be just a man, he was a god, tied to his people and though he had expressed his loyalty, you feared he would not be able to give you his heart in the same way.

Instead of words you chose kisses to show your affection, reaching up and winding your fingers into the neatly brushed curls at the nape of his neck and crushing kisses to his lips.

Thor coughed loudly.

“When you two have finished, I did suggest our visit for a reason. Not just so you could have a romantic date.”

Loki pulled away and for a split second you chased his lips, not ready to let him go. He smiled down at you, that luxurious, lust filled smirk that told you this conversation, and the kiss, were not over.

“Now that we’re discussing this, I don’t think this attire is suitable.” Thor waved at hand at you both, still dressed casually from your morning at Loki’s cabin. Even Thor’s own clothes were too casual for the setting, his large sweatshirt and jeans not nearly as intimidating as his battle armour.

With a roll of his eyes Loki’s sedir flashed and he was once more in his Asgardian leathers, less formal that the fighting armour he’d worn at the end of the mission, this had a distinctly blue hue to the chest, with his signature black leather trousers and boots. His hair, still somewhat messy, was swept back by his long fingers as he carded them through his curls. He hadn’t looked away for a second, still pining you with that look. He gave you a wink and you snapped your mouth shut.

“What about me?” You didn’t mean for it to sound so petulant, but it was hardly fair that they always knew exactly how to present themselves. All of these formalities were so new to you.

“I’m sure you’re more than capable of conjuring your own clothes, darling.” Loki purred.

“I am - but what do you wear at the Palace of the Gods?” You chewed your thumb, looking around at all the other gods as they passed. Many wore robes, some tunics and dresses, there were even a few that were mostly naked. “I only have my armour or my Earth clothes?”

“Think of your armour, the colours and textures, the images, and then imagine something you’d feel comfortable in.” Loki suggested.

“A dress, or something. Jane always liked to wear Earth Jeans.” Thor suggested with a smile, despite being glad almost exclusively in various kinds of polished metal.

“She cannot wear Earth Jeans, Thor, she is a Goddess, she must look like one.” Loki protested, rounding on his brother.

“Are you saying Jane is not a Goddess?”

“Yes, I am - you love her and I approve of her, but she is not -”

Their squabbling faded into a dull roar as you tried to concentrate, thinking about the rich blue colour of your armour, the soft velvet and smooth silver, and the weight of a dress settled around your shoulders and hips. It was surprisingly traditional, considering how much you’d hated the flouncy skirts you’d been put in as a child, but the low front and draped back felt more womanly and regal than any stuffy corset you’d been shoved into, the skirt was wide, but moved around you like water and you had the sensation of blossoming, like a midnight flower, under the gaze of your beloved Loki.

“ásynja, it’s perfect.” He held your gaze as he stepped forwards, offering his arm to you

Even Thor appeared starstruck, grinning happily and giving you a thumbs up. “Perfect, now we’re ready.”

Thor and Loki appeared stately as they marched through the gilded corridors of the Golden Palace and as you kept pace next to them you were transported to memories of your shared youth, following them around at first, until you had your bearings, and then racing with them between lessons, training, meals and meetings.

Faster and faster you ran, dodging guards and swinging around the pillars at the end of the corridor, your dress trailing behind you like a spring breeze. The soft linen snapped like a whip when you turned again, hiding yourself on the tall base of a column, and waited for your prey.

Thor appeared at one end of the corridor first, closely followed by Loki. You grinned, Thor you could catch but Loki? You didn’t trust the boy before you, green tunic fluttering around his hips. He’d tricked you far too many times for that.

You waited for him to pass Thor, a subtle nod to his brother, before you made your move.

With a yell you jumped out onto Thor’s back, your arms around his neck and your wooden dagger pressed to his throat. “I caught you!” You declared and Thor’s bellowing laugh echoed around the corridor.

In front of you both Loki whirled back and you threw the training dagger, only for it to pass through the illusion and fall to the ground.

“Not so fast, Trouble.” Thor laughed, “we may have you beaten yet.” You could almost see his grin.

Loki was swift and clever, you could feel the air move behind you as he made ready to strike and then you let Thor go, falling to the ground and rolling between Loki’s legs in one smooth movement. Smaller than both the Asgardian Prince’s your best bet was to always go very high, or very low.

Jumping to your feet you pulled Loki’s dagger from his boot and poked it into his side.

Thor’s laugh continued to boom but Loki lifted his hands in surrender. “You win again, ásynja, as always.”

He turned, smiling serenely, and you flipped the dagger, catching it deftly in your palm without drawing blood.

“As always, boys.” You smiled, fixing your skirts serenely and making to walk off, “want to play again?” And you broke into a run…

“Are you alright, my darling?” Loki asked, his eyes narrowed, “you look distracted.”

“Just remembering,” you smiled, and he kissed your temple softly, always worried by that glassy look in your eyes but pleased that the memories were coming back slowly.

Together the three of you walked through endless miles of gold corridors, halls with vast vaulted ceilings branched out from the central artery, below you were oasis after oasis of fountains and ponds, pools where gods swam and patios where they ate and laughed together.

The mere thought of all of these deities being real was making your head spin, let alone that you might actually belong here among them.

You belong wherever you chose to be

Loki’s mind spoke to yours, a soothing balm against your anxiety.

“Here we are,” Thor declared, outside two staggering doors of solid gold. “If we can’t find answers here, then I am all out of ideas.”

The doors swung open and flooded the corridor with ethereal light, almost as bright as Lugh’s had been when he’d appeared before you.

Shielding your eyes you took in the full height of the atrium. Decked out in polished gold and pure white there were rows and rows of seating in various sizes, as if for a giant theatre. Filling the seats were more kinds of people than you’d ever seen in your life, some looked like Loki and Thor, as if human but…more. Some were so small they were placed on towers of cushions and plinths rather than lounging on thrones. Then there were the giants, hanging over the edges of the balconies and peering in through the vast windows.

In the centre, floating on their own balcony, was a man of about average height, but his muscular body looked like it was brushed with gold to match his surroundings. His curled hair sat perfectly on his shoulders, one bare and one draped in pure white silk, a gold chest plate and gold leather pleats decorated the otherwise simple tunic and he was accompanied by a gaggle of similarly dressed women, all giggling and looking down at you.

Stunned, you squeezed Loki’s hand tighter in your now sweating palm, and tipped your chin up to meet the man’s gaze, wishing Thor had prepared you better.

“Welcome to the Golden Palace,” the man’s voice boomed around the room and all the other attendees went silent.

Everything will be okay, my darling Loki assured silently, but you were still rooted to the spot, terrified.

Looking again at the floating platform it became obvious who was staring back. Zeus waved the women at his side away and leant further over the balcony, his eyes roving over you again without shame.

“So this is who has caused such-” he waved his hand, “disruption and madness in our ranks.”

“We have come to seek answers, also, Mighty Zeus.” Thor answered for you, stepping further into the light from the towering windows. “We have received information regarding a prophe-”

“That is not to be spoken of here!” Zeus roared and Thor fell silent, snapping his jaw shut. “Lugh was sent to deal with you, what happened?”

What does he mean deal with me?

I don’t know, my darling, stay close

“Why did you defy him!?” Zeus demanded, his eyes boring into you, his entire court turned to you as well, the weight of their attention was crushing and your voice stuck in your throat.

“I didn’t - sorry - I -”

“We were not aware, Zeus, that anything was required of us. There was an incident with a kidnapping and it has made us wary of others.” Loki said and you mentally kicked yourself for your nerves.

“Well you are here now.” Zeus sighed and looked around, “where is Lugh?”

There was a commotion towards the side of the room and a familiar man strode forwards, he looked up towards Zeus and inclined his head politely before turning to look at you. Not Thor or Loki, who closed ranks around you, but straight towards you. Like an arrow he closed in until he could peer over Loki’s shoulder at you, so close you could see the fine detail of his armour.

“I did not wish for you to be here, child.” He hissed, turning his chin and addressing Loki, “why did you bring her?”

“Because we required answers from that irritating riddle of my mother’s” Loki bit back, his eyes shining with anger. “If you had explained instead of -”

“No whispers in my court!” Zeus bellowed and you all faced him again.

“Now we shall resolve this matter.” Zeus declared.

“Ah Zeus you know this is merely a squabble,” Lugh laughed, stepping forwards and, imperceptibly, to the side, placing himself between you and the head of the Greek pantheon.

Zeus nodded to Lugh in greeting, “it is good to see you back among our ranks, though we had hoped that this issue could have been resolved already.”

Loki tugged you backwards and Thor closed in around you.

What’s happening?

I cannot fathom, darling, just stay still, stay quiet.

Around you the sound of many people talking rose in a cacophony of sound, the once placid gods now talking heatedly between themselves.

“I can not take this arguing anymore. Can the disgruntled parties please step forwards?” Zeus waved one hand and placed his head in the other dramatically, as if he was physically tired from the entire argument despite his continued wide legged stance and the abundance of seating around him.

The first god stepped forwards, tall and broad with huge muscles, his long beard and the storm that followed him reminded you of Thor, but instead of a hammer, this God carried a mace and an axe.

He stopped before Zeus and pointed at you, barely looking at you before staring Zeus down. “She belongs to us, let her leave with me now and there will be no bloodshed.” You’d imagined that in a land of gods there would be many languages, but thankfully you were able to understand all that was said.

Lugh and Thor closed in tighter around you as Loki tugged you closer into his side. The storm that had arrived with this god made the air colder and your skin felt damp, as if you’d just stepped inside after being caught in the rain.

I won’t let them take you, darling

“Baal, we have discussed the need for evidence, what have you to provide -”

Before Zeus could finish, a second god stepped forwards. You had thought the first was large, but the second was easily eight feet tall, lean and slender with skin so lustrous it looked like it was made of polished bronze. Although his body was that of a man, even if it was a towering man, his head was that of a dog, black fur blurred down his neck and a long snout ended in a surprisingly soft muzzle.

Despite the attention of the room shifting, Baal continued to raise his voice, the clouds above him breaking into rain that pattered on the marble and formed splashing pools below his feet. “These powers are ours, Zeus and you know this to be true.”

Loki he squeezed your hand and turned to you slightly, the damp curls of his hair sticking to his forehead.

Everything here is translated or, it is now after the last argument erupted

Loki’s hand was a reassuring presence in your own and you stepped closer into his warmth as the God continued, the velvet of your dress feeling heavy in the misty rain.

His voice was deep, but steady, as he spoke not to Zeus and his retinue, but directly to you. The taught tension in his shoulders and the clenching of his hands told you, and the three men still surrounding you, that he was in no mood for an argument.

“Brigid visited me on her journeys and I claim you as my offspring, I have seen your many powers and I wish to welcome you to the Ennead as my daughter.”

You coughed, choking on your own breath in surprise. Next to you, Loki stiffened and you felt that piercing gaze of his turn to you, on your other side Thor stood in shock . But Lugh scoffed.

“You have never been able to prove anything, either of you. What evidence do you have for your claim now?” Lugh stared up at Anubis’ dark eyes first, and then Baal’s, standing his ground between you and the other gods. They had had this conversation before, that much was clear and as before Lugh refused to move an inch.

Before Anubis could answer a large serpent, covered in delicate, brightly coloured feathers, slithered from the seating and coiled itself around the gathered gods.As his tail came to rest on the polished marble he transformed into a man, feathers still decorating his turquoise and green clothing.

“Step aside, Anubis, you and I both know that this girl is capable of great things, death is not one of them.” His eyes softened as he turned to look at you, “we have spoken of the prophecy, we know that she would need both a mother and a father capable of -”

“And what of the other half of the prophecy?” Another man stepped forwards, though he seemed to be of average height he carried with him a huge cutlas and, as the wind whipped up around him, his gold eye glinted. “Surely there are many who can claim such gifts.”

Zeus raised his hand and a bolt of lightning flashed above his head.

“We agreed we would not discuss the prophecy in front of the girl,” he commanded.

“Only because you did not want us to take responsibility for her actions!” A voice chimed from high in the stadium.

“Aye, what if she needs controlling!” Another voice agreed, “surely you are to blame here, Zeus, you are the leader among us and a shape shifter as the girl is, you should take over controlling her!”

“Controlling? No one is going to -” you raised your voice, trying to make a stand in your defence, but Loki had tangled his magic around you, holding you back, though it appeared all he was doing was clasping your hand. You fought against him, determined to speak your mind. But even Thor, who revelled in your troublemaking, shook his head.

You would fry him for this, singe his hair and torch his precious leathers. Melt his daggers and - the coil around you tightened and it suddenly felt like an embrace, and not a leash, guarding you against the onslaught of opinion. The fire of your anger flickered, but didn’t go out.

“I?” Zeus looked genuinely upset at the prospect, which, despite your relief, felt a lot like an insult. “I have not sired the child, look at her, so full of destruction. Perhaps she really is yours Owuo, or, perhaps,” he turned to the voice in the crowd, “she is yours, Proteus, after all, she is a changeable thing.”

“Thing?!”

Your magic was roiling, perhaps you really were meant for destruction, desperate for a way to release the anger building slowly inside.

“Hush, darling,” Loki cooed, squeezing your hand.

“Don’t you tell me to hush, you’re as bad as them, what is this? A cattle market? I can’t tell whether I’m wanted or not!”

Still towering above you, Anubis looked down, placing a large hand across your back, he spoke softly and the words flowed through you.

“Of course you are wanted, child, but, you see, we have been arguing for many eons over you. Where there is awe, there is also fear.

Fear, they were frightened about you and suddenly you were frightened too. What if the prophecy was true, and you were destined to be a person you couldn’t control.

In the centre of the theatre the gods continued to argue, their voices becoming blurred as more and more descended from the steps. Some shouting that you should be made to go with them, back to their homes and worlds to rule in their pantheons, some arguing that you needed taking in hand, containing as you had been. But the word that kept appearing, that you couldn’t shake, was prophecy.

Frigga’s words were more than just a dream then, they had been heard across the pantheons, across time, and these gods were in disarray because of it. Even those who wished to claim you only sought control of the terrible destruction the prophecy had claimed. It crossed your mind that maybe you should have gone with Lugh and allowed him to hide you. He had come to your aid once more and he had never hurt you, even when he’d sent the boy to fetch you he’d been gentle, that was his undoing.

“If there is one more word about the prophecy then we will have Lugh remove her memories and send her back to be contained on Gaia with him until this can be resolved” Zeus boomed.

Your blood felt cold.

The air rushed from your body in a single huff.

Your body numb.

Lugh turned away from the commotion to look at you, the light around him dimming to a faint glow.

“Estrid -”

“Loki I want to go home,” you tugged him backwards, away from the man approaching you.

“Please, you must understand, I did what I thought to be right to protect you.” Lugh took a step closer, but Thor moved in front of him, blocking his path with a crackle of blue lightning.

“Loki!” You turned to him, tears streaming down your face.

“I only meant to protect you.” Lugh looked stricken, but Thor held him back. “See how they fight over you? See how they want to use you? I only ever wanted you to be free. Please, allow me to explain.” He pleaded.

“You took everything from me!” Your scream echoed, bouncing back into the flames that exploded from your body. Loki moved back and you swore he looked almost blue for a moment as he threw up a wall of protective sedir around himself and Thor. On the outside, Lugh continued to approach, his light wrapping around him.

“Please,” he begged, “I understand you do not wish to talk to me. Allow me to write you a letter? Or visit you somewhere when you are calm -”

“I’m very calm. I am very calm right now.” You snarled, your armour rippling over your body, your spear suddenly clenched between your fingers. “I never want to see you again, don’t ever try to talk to me again. You are a jailor, a kidnapper, get away from me.”

He didn’t have to hurt you, because he had so much more control than that, he had taken every thought and memory of Loki from you, your time on Asgard, your mother.

“Princes, please,” he turned to Loki and Thor, “your mother agreed, she helped, it was for the best that you forgot.”

You moved backwards again, dropping Loki’s hand as your spear sparked on the marble. So he’d hurt Loki too, there was no return from this, no way to atone when he’d hurt you both.

You were running for the edge of the stage before you could dwell on it anymore, towards what you hoped would be an exit, behind you your fire followed you like the sweep of a dress, melting the gold it touched into soft pools and charring the wooden legs of the pews that lined the centre of the stage.

You didn’t look back.

With one last look at the burgeoning fight brewing in the centre of the Golden Palace, Loki turned, his cape flowing behind him as he sprinted after you, catching you around the waist and vanishing in a flash of green and gold magic.

<<Part 14

Part 16>>

#Loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki/reader #Loki x Reader #Loki fanfic #Loki series #loki marvel #Loki x you #Loki/You #loki fanfiction #Loki smut #The Old Gods and the New #loki fic #loki god of mischief #loki laufesyon x reader #loki of asgard

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goshilovemesomemonsters · 11 months

Note

… I hear you.. AND BOY DOES THAT GIVE ME IDEAS!! 🤩

An image of how Reader heals the Pilgrim gang~

✨Wukong✨

Gentle as can be~ takes her time to slowly heal every possible (or imagined) scratch and bruise, all with a loving hand~ …. And while teasing the absolute shit outa him… 😜

🤝🏻 Sandy 🤝🏻

Her bestie? Her BFF?? The go to method for healing the big blue good-boy™️ is of course their secret best-friends handshake~ 😎

😐 Pigsy 😐

Every time this guy tries to go in for a hug.. and every time he gets slapped in the face.. healing through violence… somewhat contradictory? Perhaps, but it works~

🙏🏻 Tang 🙏🏻

… She pinches his nose in a firm grip, and start lecturing him.. “repeat after me, I will NOT listen to Pigsy and go near the obviously suspicious Bogota in the distance, especially when everyone else tells me not to!” basically a Mom moment~

🐴 Ao Lie 🐴

Gentle head pats.. after his own Father sentenced him to death, the poor kid deserves some form of genuine affection.. another Mom moment~

YOU. You get it.

And if you don’t mind me adding on to this~ because this in turn gave me more ideas lmao

Honestly Wukong doesn’t even go to you for healing to begin with. He’s the Monkey King??? Immortalx6???? He doesn’t need your healing he can just heal himself 🤨. Yes it does hurt him to have to regrow or repair himself, I imagine it’s less that he heals himself and more just…speeds up the process of the injuries healing themselves meaning he gets a fuckton of pain all at once, but given he is both immortal and impatient, he doesn’t really think much of the pain…or he tries to tell himself that anyway.

But after one of the battles where he’s forced to go to Guanyin for help he finds himself angrily sulking because he doesn’t like having to ask for help. But then you come over and just…place a friendly hand on his shoulder and heal him. He is prepared for it to hurt like how he heals himself but it doesn’t?? In fact it feels nice??? What the Fuck™. He could have been getting THIS the whole time??

Every battle after that he is first in line to get healed (listen it’s just quicker if you heal him ok don’t look too deep into it-) even going so far as to push Pigsy out of the way at points. Don’t come between the monkey and his (excuse to get your hands on him) heals. See he thought he knew what he was getting into. A quick heal and (your touch…) he’s back to full health. He was wrong because reader is wise to his schemes and makes it their personal mission to fluster the shit out of him.

“Why is this taking so long??”

“Because you keep fidgeting”

“Well you need to hurry up!!”

“I’m adding on a minute of heal time for every time you rush me.”

“What?? No just finish up already!”

“Three minutes.”

“Stop going so slow!!”

“Four! Do I hear five?? Goodness your gonna give me the wrong idea if you keep this up. It’s like you want my hands on you~”

All the while you’re slooowly dragging your hands across him and he’s doing everything in his power to not think about how good it feels, how nice it feels to have your gentle and delicate touches on him and looking anywhere other than at you. Jokes on him though he may not blush super easily but his ears are always the first to show it.

Sun Wukong was NOT prepared for this. He’s used to admiration from his subjects, fear from his enemies, respect from those he’s fought. But this??? This is new. He’s not used to this. Even back on flower fruit mountain he was never subjected to this kind of attention. He doesn’t…hate it per-say, but he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He might try to cross his arms, make himself look intimidating he doesn’t know-

“Nah-ah, uncross those arms mister I need access to your chest.”

He is suffering. Your going to kill him he’s sure of it. This is how he dies. Just by being subjected to your ministrations. Yes he knows he could leave at anytime but he’s not going to.

It doesn’t really occur to him that you’re taking your time on purpose at first because it’s not exactly like he was paying attention the first time you healed him and he accepts your explanation of it being more precise when you touch him like that readily enough. To his credit he does eventually catch on to what your doing by being purposefully slow and handsy. But like by that point he’s down bad and doubles down.

He flips the script BIIIG time when he goes from “feelings are dumb” to courting/relationship status though. If he was a menace before now he is INSUFFERABLE.

“You missed a spot”

“Oh? Where?”

“Move your hands lower”

“WUKONG.”

“I am injured! Don’t you want to see me get better? 🥺”

Or otherwise now he is intentionally doing whatever he can to increase how long it takes

“Hey you still intend to go slower if I rush you right?”

“Probably? Why do you ask-“

“WOW you are going so slow you need to hurry up and finish already because this is taking forever, we’ve been here like all day seriously how much longer is this going to take??”

“…”

“How long does that buy me?”

“…”

*Insta-Heals him*

D:<

As for the others,

Sandy/Sha Wujing is an absolute sweetheart, always patiently waiting for his turn to be healed or for you to finish. Always asks for heals with a please and thanks you every time. Secret handshake is absolutely how he gets healed. 10/10 would heal again. Best patient ever.

Tang is….fine most times. He’s real sorry for making you go through the trouble though. Really sorry. Has he told you how sorry he is? Because he is. He’s really really sorry. Swears he won’t do it again. A simple shoulder pat is all he really needs as he feels reaaaaally sorry and just feels the worst about this. No but fr he feels SO GUILTY. Healing him is part actually healing him and part feelings jam because he probs needs to be reassured that what happened wasn’t his fault.

Oof but when it’s because of Pigsy starting shit again and pulls him into danger? That’s when the pinching starts. How many times have you and Wukong told him not to listen to Pigsy?? So many times?? AND YET??? …he’s still really sorry tho

Ao Lie doesn’t really need healing all that often due to being a horse most of the time but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t occasionally sidle up to you and push his head under your hand to ask for it. Carrying the monk all that time has gotta be tiring, even if he is a dragon. Especially since he isn’t even doing it in his natural form! So that little boost of energy you give him really helps him out. Also a sweetheart 10/10 (why can’t Pigsy be like you and Sandy FR)

Pigsy tho…bless Reader’s heart you TRIED to actually properly heal him once. But unfortunately with Pigsy being Pigsy that went about as well as expected. As soon as he found out you heal through touch it was all over. “Oh my fair friend I am dying!! Only your sweet kiss can heal me. 😚” which did result in the slap heal. To his…tiny tiny bit of credit he does stop the antics after the first few times. Not because he realized that it won’t happen, but because Wukong won’t let him. Literally, he tries to be his fail-suave self during a time when Wukong is standing right behind you and one very intense glare coupled with a hand going to his ear to pull out his cudgel is all it takes to get him to stop….mostly. Still tries it when Wukong isn’t around though. Always results in a slap.

#jttw #lmk #monkey king reborn #sun wukong x reader #Sun Wukong #sha wujing #zhu bajie #ao lie #Tang XuanZang #hahaha Monkey Man is down bad get super wreckt

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love-bugsy · 7 months

Text

meet cut(e) | jason todd

the worst thing about love (two) / (one)

you’re just trying to get through your surgical residency, but this masked vigilante keeps showing up half-dead on your fire escape and reminding you of your dead best friend. oh well, at least he's cute.

tw: allusions to character death, depictions of grief, mentions of blood and injuries, swearing, completely ooc Jason but he’s like my own lil character now and I’m protective, i learned my medical terminology from grey's anatomy don't hate me

only jerks steal other people's writing (just don't repost, mate)

You’re awake when he stumbles into your apartment two weeks later. You stare at him owlishly; knees tucked up against your plush, non-indented couch, glass of Merlot in your hand kept carefully away from the carpet you just scrubbed the bloodstains out of. You set it gingerly on your coffee table, half convinced he’s not real.

“I got… a cut.” It seems strange for this masked vigilante - you may or may not have been doing some tipsy research on the hooded hero - to look so sheepish. All six feet of him stooped in your cramped apartment, one hand clutched to his side, that emotionless mask staring straight through you. You get up from your couch wordlessly, walking down the hallway to rummage through your bathroom.

First aid kit and isopropyl in hand, you return to his awkward stance in the middle of your living room; his gaze intently focused on your overstuffed bookshelf. His attention snaps to you when your sock-clad footsteps meet the edge of the plush rug separating you. From this angle, you can see the stubborn, brown bloodstain that you tried to hide under the leg of your armchair - little marks… stains or rusting memories… You gesture to your couch, and he sits, taking off his jacket.

Yanking a stool over to sit in front of him, you pull up his shirt, brows furrowing at the slice in his side. He’s undressed the cut you stitched up for him before he should have, and you examine it while you clean his most recent knife wound. Your stitches are far from perfect - the scar bulging in some areas - but for such a high tension wound, it’s healed well.

Your eyes flicker up to his blood red mask for a moment, and it occurs to you - distantly - that you should probably be terrified. I mean, seriously. A part of you screams that this is how people get murdered. Another part of you thinks that this is the most vulnerable he ever gets; his shirt off, gritting his teeth through the pain of 91% isopropyl alcohol.

Another - buried - part of you thinks this seems familiar.

Your gaze darts back down to his chest, lingering unconsciously on the end of the scar that cuts out from underneath his shirt. Your eyes catch on the ugly bruises decorating the tan expanse of his torso, some angry and purple, others a sickly yellow. He clears his throat awkwardly and your cheeks heat, returning your attention to sterilising his wound. Real classy, birdie, ogling a guy whose face you’ve never seen. He breaks the thick silence first, low voice crackling through his modulator.

“How’s it look, doc? ‘m I gonna survive?” You hide a smile beneath your exasperated look, brows knitted. Still, you can’t fully conceal the amused edge in your dry tone.

“You’re not nearly as charming when you’ve been stabbed.” He cocks his mask; unreadable. For a long moment, you think you might have actually offended him, until he huffs out a staticky laugh.

“Slashed, actually.” You scrunch your nose. Pedantic asshole.

“Look, I’ve had a long day, which wasn’t exactly made better by having to patch up a freak in a super-suit, so just… save the witty ironicism for someone who didn’t have to clean up baby vomit all day.” You can hear the smile in his voice when he responds, mask’s gaze still fixed on your face.

“Ouch, doc, and here I thought you were happy to see me.” A little pause as you meet his gaze briefly, unable to shake the familiarity… the instinctive fondness that warms your chest. His next words seem more guarded. “So, why’re you helping me then?” Good question. Your focus never falters from the slow concentric circles you’re rubbing around his wound with an alcohol soaked hand towel.

“I took an oath.” He laughs again and you quash the little spark of pride that hearing it gives you. You swap the towel in your hand for a roll of bandages and a plaster, applying the latter first before starting to wrap his waist.

“My bad, doc, I thought you were helping me out of the goodness of your heart.”

You scrunch your nose, trying to suppress the smile that tugs insistently at your mouth. Reaching for a clip, you secure his bandages and help him pull his shirt down so it doesn’t catch. You get up from the stool, shuffling it out of the way for your future self to move back in front of your kitchen island. Yawning, you stretch your hands above your head, a little noise of relief leaving your mouth when the tension in your shoulders loosens. You pretend not to notice how his mask tilts, lingering on the sliver of skin exposed as your shirt lifts.

He settles backwards, leaning his shoulders over the arm of your couch so that his legs don’t dangle over the edge. You watch as he yanks your throw blanket haphazardly over his torso and crosses his arms over his chest. You’re sure he must be keeping you in his peripheral as you startle out of eyeing him warily, but he doesn’t acknowledge any of it. Maybe to save you some dignity. Padding back to the hallway, you make it halfway before pausing, words spilling from your mouth unbidden.

“You can have some coffee, you know.”

“What?” The question comes out slurred, a full night’s worth of adrenaline finally dwindling. It brings back a flash of a near empty coffee pot - last dregs dripping slowly into a blue mug held in lethargic hands. You blink.

“In the morning.” He tilts his mask, and you stumble to elaborate, “When you sneak out. You can have some coffee.” Cautious, you study his reaction, but your vigilante doesn’t move an inch - his mask’s white slits boring holes into you like he’s trying to figure you out. Or waiting for a catch. You think he might trust you more if you give him one.

“You have to wash the mug, though. And the coffee’s old.” If you focus hard enough, you can hear something percolating - the coffee in your makeshift warmer or… the tenuous thread of something like dependency. He shifts on the couch and you suppress a wince at the stress it will put on his injuries.

“I like old coffee,” he hums out blurrily, hushed static of his modulator nearly rendering the words unintelligible. You flinch, turning off the living room light instead of responding.

You’re seventeen, he’s sixteen. You give him shit for being two months younger than you. It’s so late at night you’ll start to call it morning soon, and the two of you sit on opposite sides of a diner counter.

You lean over the counter, arms outstretched, dropping your head into your clasped hands. He reaches over you, pouring out another cup of old, lukewarm coffee. He follows it up with an unholy amount of cream and sugar - just how you like it - nudging it over to you with that wry grin of his.

“Tired, birdie?” You are tired, but not as tired as he is. You think maybe Wayne Enterprises should be funding his college tuition, not this superhero shit. Superhero shit that he never talks about, except. He used to tell you everything. You used to tell him everything.

Because he’s smart. He’s really smart. Smart enough to not risk his life every night. You want to tell him that but you know he doesn’t see it that way. In that mask, he’s infallible. Instead, you hum in agreement, dragging the mug closer and taking a sip. You scowl at the bitterness.

He frowns petulantly, looking at you with tired, amused eyes. “You don’t like my coffee?” You set down your cup, wrinkling your nose at the unexpectedly loud ‘clink’ it makes against the counter.

“You’re so dramatic, blue, only you like day-old coffee.” He gives you a dry look, one that says he’s too tired to mock-argue with you. So instead, you turn on the sink behind the counter, rinsing cutlery to load the dishwasher. You both sit in near silence, broken only by his fingers tapping carefully on the counter and your absent-minded hums.

You spend days agonising over a present as his birthday rapidly approaches, though you know he hates the fuss. You settle on a gunmetal grey lighter, shakily hand engraved with a bluejay. Something to replace his shitty BIC one, with its smudged sharpie lettering that barely spells out ‘JT’.

Secretly, you look forward to the sardonic comment he'll make about how he thought you disapproved of his cancer sticks. The truth is, you don't think you could stop enabling him.

A month out from his birthday, he drops by after patrol with your copy of Wuthering Heights. You ask if he liked it and he says he didn’t. Something, something, overly maudlin. He’s lying. He always gets that little specific crease between his eyebrows when he lies to you.

It feels like all you see lately.

Are the nightmares getting worse?

Lie.

Stayin’ out of trouble?

Lie.

Are we always going to be like this? Am I always going to lose you when you put on that suit?

Lie.

Over and over until you snap, poking a finger straight into the crease and smoothing it out. You tell him you want the truth and he tells you he can’t give it to you. You yell at him for ten hour-long minutes, sweeping angry gestures with your arms. One of them knocks over his half-full mug - blue shards shattering in the slow spill of murky coffee. You wish you remembered what he said to you, but all you remember is watching him leave. The last time he ever did.

You wait two weeks for him to come back, recording apologetic voicemails that he dodges with clipped, sullen phone calls. Then, he stops picking up at all.

His death isn’t reported on the news.

Alfred visits you once after he dies, carrying Jason’s old leather jacket like a sleeping animal that might come alive at any second. You don’t talk - not even when he hands it to you - you don’t know what you would say. You don’t know each other, you have nothing in common, except that you loved the same person once.

Your life shrinks - going through the same mechanical motions for months on end, school, work, home. It feels blasphemous to do anything but stare at the jacket - to lift it from where it hangs on the back of your door, to make it yours instead of his - until, one day, you can’t bear to be distant from him anymore. You put it on, shove your hands in the pockets like he always did, digging around. You find an old hairtie of yours in the inside pocket and a stick of apple pie flavoured lip balm you lent him last winter.

His lighter is in the front pocket, blue as his pale, dark eyes. Carefully, you place it on your desk, next to the one you meant to gift him.

Two lighters and you don’t even fucking smoke.

oof okay, this one was a bit of a monster (don't know if it bodes well for this series for me to have struggled with this chapter so much lol) but i hope you guys like it. :) i might have to take a little break over the next month because of my final exams, but rest assured, doc and jay will be back again come november. tysm for reading!

with love, bugsy

#series: the worst thing about love #love-bugsy #jason todd x reader #jason todd fic #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd imagine #jason todd reader insert #x reader

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