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frickatives · 8 months

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[ch2] against better judgement: the abduction [f!reader bounty hunter x mando]

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[a/n] finally starting to get into the reader x mando fun, sorry this story has been so light on it so far! usually I jump straight into the dialog (and the arguing... and the flirting.........) but I got swept up in setting the scene for this fic. I'm so glad people are enjoying the story so far!! it's been forever since I've published fanfic (or anything, really) and it's been so much fun to work on the past few weeks. hoping I can continue with biweekly posts for the forseeable future (though we'll see how nanowrimo affects that in a couple months, haha) as always, let me know if you'd like to be tagged for future chapters, and let me know what you think! thank you for reading!!!

[warnings/tags] canon typical violence, gore, mentions of death and injury, mentions of drugs that cause loss of consciousness, mentions of nausea, cussin', thirst for sweet vengeance, fem!reader, no use of y/n, the slowest burn, enemies to lovers, bounty hunter reader, comically hostile workplace

[wc] 3.7k

Chapter 2: The Abduction

To your complete surprise, you wake up.

You regret it immediately.

A wave of nausea, roiling and lopsided, rushes from your gut to the back of your mouth. It's all you can do to swallow it.

You're lying on your back. A wet strip of cloth covers your nose and mouth, and in your half-conscious state it feels like drowning with each inhale. You claw it away frantically, barely recognizing it as your own sweat-soaked mask – you're still wearing your helmet. When you shove the entire thing off of your head, it falls out of your hand and clatters against something metal.

Air – stale and cold, but it's the sweetest thing you've ever tasted – floods your lungs. Chest heaving. Eyes stinging. Head throbbing. Alive.

How the hell are you alive?

The bunker comes back to you in a flurry of damp-smelling, loud, red-and-yellow flashing images: the bounty, the mercenary, your knife, the millaflower, the Mandalorian.

Shit. Shit.

Fight-or-flight grips you. You're not sure which option you're choosing, but you need to move. Right now. You only get as far as lurching into a half-seated position before a sharp pain in your side arrests you and your nausea returns en force.

Swearing under your breath and pressing a hand to the injury, you realize someone stripped off your armorweave vest and cut away part of your undershirt. A fresh bandage is plastered over what feels like a deep wound.

Confusion muddies your panic, bogs it down even though your pulse is still racing. Or maybe that's just the overwhelming turning in your stomach; the millaflower's aftereffects are atrocious.

The thought of someone stripping off your armor and handling your bare skin while you were unconscious sends another shot of bile up the wrong way. The fact that they left the rest of your armor – even your helmet – in place does nothing to comfort you. Your fingertips trace the edges of the bandage as you try very hard not to be sick.

You have no way of telling how long you've been out – your comlink is, distressingly, missing from your wrist. You have the mother of all hangovers and you remember the intensity of the hallucinations you had before you succumbed to the poison: light swords and mercs falling to literal pieces. You pray you can at least trust your eyes, now that your stomach is betraying you.

Your mind tries to take inventory, to formulate a plan, to do anything useful whatsoever, but it can only swoon and stumble over itself in the wake of your drugged sleep, while your heart moves at a gallop. You squeeze your eyes shut and press your hand into your side a little harder, focusing on the pain.

You're alive. You shouldn't be, but you are – a mistake the kriffing Mandalorians seem to keep making – and you're mostly okay. A little stabbed, a little poisoned, but okay.

First thing's first: where are you?

Very, very slowly, you push yourself up to sitting.

You're on a small, cramped cot built into the wall of a shabby ship's cabin. You're alone, but the ship is moving – the bulkhead beside you is complaining, panels rattling loudly against one another, like the ship is leaving atmosphere, or crashing, or simply an absolute junker.

Someone must be flying it.

Your discarded helmet rocks back and forth on the deck. You still have your boots on, and your armorweave greaves and vambraces. Your vest is folded neatly at the end of the cot.

No weapons, though. Those are missing, along with your comlink. Despite the armor, you feel naked without them.

The rest of the walls in the tiny cabin are inlaid with assorted stowage compartments. There's nothing remarkable about these quarters, nothing personal. No clues as to whose ship you're aboard.

Your instincts, grappling with your weakened state, congeal into a weary fight – you're on a kriffing spaceship, there's nowhere to flee – and you need to know who or what you're fighting.

As gingerly and quickly as you can, you grab your armorweave vest and shrug into it, hissing through your teeth when your movement tugs on your side. You don't bother with your helmet.

You start opening cabinets. Searching them clumsily, growing more and more frustrated as each one reveals supplies, linens, food, or empty space; nothing identifying or remotely helpful.

The cabin door looms behind you as you ransack the final cabinet – this one full of spare batteries, protein rations, and, bafflingly, a single package of bright blue cream-cookies. You steal a protein ration and shove it into your pocket, just in case. (Old habit. See food, take food, don't starve.)

You confront the door, muddled memories of the door at the bunker's entrance clouding your thoughts. There's no blaster fire or shouting on the other side of this one, but you're somehow more scared to open it than the broken, moldy bunker door. Passing through it is a risk – you have no idea how many people are waiting on the other side, or what they want with you. There could be any number of equally-hungover mercs looking for payback after a millaflower dosing. It could be the bounty, trying to make some coin off of you in the trafficking business (you'll happily escort him to his funeral, if so).

But, whoever they are, you're not going to sit in here and wait for them to come find you. That would be too close to giving up, and you don't give up. You set your jaw.

The door isn't locked. When you open it, there's nobody in the room outside the hatch.

It's another cramped, shitty room. The entire thing rumbles and groans with the rest of the ship. One wall houses something that might pass as a galley, for someone who never cooks real food. There's a small table-and-benches combo bolted to the deck, more stowage, another open hatch revealing a refresher, a pair of closed hatches on opposite ends of the room, and–

Your heart leaps up into your throat and dies there.

Tucked into the corner closest to you is a carbon-freezer. Empty, but no less damning for it.

This is a bounty hunter's ship.

You are so completely fucked.

A deluded part of your brain tries to suggest that maybe another hunter stumbled across the scene in the bunker and took pity on you. Maybe it isn't what you think, and the kriffing Mandalorian hasn't abducted you, and you're actually aboard a friend's ship. (Okay, maybe not a friend, you don't have many of those in the galaxy. But an acquaintance? Someone you bought a drink for at a bar once?)

You know it's a lie. You know exactly where you are. You need to be ready to fight.

Scanning the rest of the room while all the blood drains from your head to your ass, nausea set aside in favor of adrenaline, you land on a particular cabinet protruding from the wall: larger than most, with a heavy-duty lock built into its face.

Weapons locker.

You limp over to it. The safe is impressive, but easily crackable– that is, if you had your com. Without it, your odds of breaking in are drastically worse, but what choice do you have? You start by keying in the usual default codes used by the manufacturer. If the Mando was stupid enough to bring you, alive, aboard his ship, he might be stupid enough not to program his own combination.

No such luck. Each code you try is met with a red warning message scrolling across the small display above the keypad.

There's something immediately, absurdly soothing about trying to crack this lock. The small return to your comfort zone – theft and puzzle solving – is enough to steady your hands; enough ground to stand on to keep you from tumbling off the edge into a complete, terrified shut down, trapped alone on a ship with someone responsible for your grievous injury twice-over.

You press the heel of your hand firmly into the panel below the keypad, warping it just so, and catch the edge of it with the nails of your other hand. It pries off easily. A portion of the safe's wiring is laid bare – an exploit removed from newer versions of this model. Lucky for you, this safe and the ship around you are older than you are.

Careful not to trip any of the failure points, you hook your pinky around a yellow wire and pull.

Everything goes quiet. At first you think you must have pulled the wrong wire, but no. The bulkheads stopped rattling. The roar of a ship struggling to hold itself together gives way to the gentle hum of functioning engines.

Must be out of atmo.

Your time is running out. Fast. You don't know much about flying, but you do know that a ship out of atmosphere can easily drift without supervision.

You disconnect another wire from the mechanism and spark the frayed ends of the wires against each other. A few tries, and there's a satisfying ka-lunk inside the locker. One pin down. Four to go.

You pick another wire and spark it against the first. Come on. Come on, come on, come on.

"That's locked for a reason."

The filtered voice behind you freezes your fingers in place.

Ice floods your veins.

You spin to face him. One of the closed hatches is open, now – you hadn't heard it move. He's standing in the middle of the room, tall and broad and fucking Mandalorian. It's disturbing, not seeing his eyes – makes it feel like his gaze is boring through you, like he can see too much. Maybe you should've put your helmet back on.

He's fully suited-up, of course. Enough beskar to keep you fed for decades, vexingly placed between you and the neck you'd like to wring, the eyes you'd like to gouge, the heart you'd like to rip from his chest, still beating.

You'd really, really have preferred to be kidnapped by literally anyone else in the kriffing galaxy.

He's watching you, waiting for whatever you'll do next – but he doesn't seem to expect you kicking yourself off the weapons locker and lunging across the room at him.

Which is exactly what you do. Shoulders down, back straight, propelling your bodyweight forward as fast as you can, the way Orys drilled into you.

You collide with his waist and throw your arms around his knees to sweep his legs out from under him – or, you would, but he's managed to widen his stance enough that you're only able to grab one leg. Still, your momentum carries him backwards and slams him against the kitchenette.

He shoves you off of him. He's fucking strong.

But you're fucking angry.

You lunge at him again, and this time you get your hand on the blaster at his hip. You grip it for all you're worth as he counters, driving you into the wall and trapping you between himself and the shitty nanowave cooker, forearm braced across your chest.

He doesn't realize you have his pistol until the safety clicks off and you move to aim it at an un-beskared part of his torso.

His fist connects with your injured side. Hard.

You yelp. Your blaster shot goes wide by several parsecs, painting a burn on a wall panel. Pain numbs your grip and the Mandalorian knocks the weapon out of your hands.

Your body demands that you double over in pain, but he keeps you pinned to the galley, leaning into his forearm.

"Are you done?" he asks. He doesn't even have the decency to be as out-of-breath as you are. Bastard.

"Not while you're still breathing, Mandie," you sneer, voice shaking.

He seems surprised – at least, he doesn't say anything in response.

You stomp your heel down onto his instep.

He grunts and his hold on you slips enough that you escape, immediately dropping onto the deck, going after the blaster pistol.

The son of a bitch kicks it away from you. It skitters across rusted metal, and the Mandalorian grabs you before you can give chase.

"Would you stop– stop that," he snaps, securing your flailing arms to your sides and hauling you upright from behind. You don't stop. You'd rather die than stop. You kick at him again, boot glancing harmlessly off beskar.

"LET ME GO," you yell. There's so much rage inside you, you want to do damage, you want satisfaction, you want blood, and everything hurts, and your head is spinning, and he's winning, and all you can do is scream, "I'LL KILL YOU, I'LL KILL YOU, I'LL K–"

He clamps a hand over your mouth. It smells like leather and plasma.

"Calm down," he says, voice harsh against your ear, helmet digging painfully into the back of your skull.

You bite his gloved finger.

He curses and rips his hand away. Then he throws you against the wall again, headfirst.

You melt onto the floor. Dazed. Pissed.

In the seconds it takes to regain your senses, he's retrieved his blaster and aimed it directly at your face from a few feet away.

You raise open palms, panting. You resent your hands for trembling.

A long moment passes. You're out of options that don't end with you getting shot.

You've lost.

You're so kriffing tired of losing.

"I'm not going to shoot you," he says, as if in answer to the thought, "unless you make me."

"That makes one of us," you say. You slowly get your feet back under you and press yourself upwards to lean against the kitchenette's poor excuse for a countertop, hands still raised, eyes fixed on the pistol.

The Mandalorian sighs – actually has the nerve to seem exasperated with you, as if you're no more a threat to him than a misbehaving child. You think you might start screaming again.

"If the bounty means that much to you, it's yours," he says.

You gawk at him. "What?"

"I couldn't finish the job. He ran. You can take it, I won't stand in your way," he says. "There's no need to fight over it."

He… He thinks this is about the bounty? The kriffing bounty?

"Or," he continues, "we could split it. Finish the hunt together."

"What?" you ask again, incredulous. Everything coming out of this man's mouth is deranged.

He gestures downwards with the blaster and your eyes oblige, looking down. Blood is soaked through your armorweave, dripping onto the deck – you must have torn open your injury, at some point. You hadn't even felt it through all the adrenaline and exciting new pain. You curse under your breath.

"You're in bad shape."

"I'm fine," you say. You're not. It's a lot of blood.

"You're not," he says firmly. "My offer stands. Or you can ride out the rest of the hunt as cargo." His helmet nods to the side.

Towards the carbon-freezer.

Your stomach plummets. You absolutely cannot allow that to happen. You may be in a tight spot now, but in carbonite you'd have zero control over your body, over your life. Hell, he could keep you on ice for years. Nobody would even know where to look for you. Fear punctures your wrath. You stare at the freezer until the Mandalorian speaks again.

"What'll it be?"

Your gaze returns to the hunter and his weapon.

You have an advantage, and you cling to it, sink your teeth into it, clutch at it to keep close: he doesn't know you. Or, if he does, he doesn't seem to realize why you might want him dead. It's insulting – you burn with your need for revenge, and he doesn't even remember you from Nevarro – but it's also a leg up. He thinks you're only interested in the bounty. He thinks this is professional squabbling.

You can buy time. You can use his ignorance against him. Choke him with it, when the time is right.

Your jaw clenches and unclenches, and your hands drop down to your sides.

"Thought so," he says, lowering the blaster, holstering it.

You flinch at the comment; it's salt in the wound. A lick of anger pinches the bridge of your nose. You can't help wanting to get one more barb in, to make your surrender the tiniest bit painful for him, given the physical and mental agony you're in – abducted, trapped, injured, injured some more, defeated.

"What's to stop me from killing you in your sleep?" you ask.

He crosses his arms over his chest and leans back against the table. That helmet tilts, still looking through you.

"And then what? You didn't have a ship of your own back on that planet, so I'm guessing you can't fly one. That leaves you drifting, alone. Any traffic in this sector is going to fire on this ship before they give it a second thought. And, even if you could fly the ship, chasing bounties in your condition is suicide."

You want to kill him a thousand times over, for dissecting you, your shortcomings, and your circumstance so casually. It's life or death for you, and he's talking about it with the nonchalance of someone discussing a sabacc game.

"Like it or not, I'm the only way you're finishing this job," he says.

You hate him for saying it.

You hate him more for being right – not about finishing the job. You couldn't care less about the job. But you can't fly the damn ship. If you kill him now, you'll be dooming yourself, too.

A wordless snarl leaps up your throat and you kick the nearest cabinet. You swear you can hear him sigh – another kriffing sigh – under that stupid helmet. Hackles raised, you turn on him.

"I'm still killing you," you snap, jabbing a pointed finger in his direction because you don't have anything sharp to throw at him. "The second I can. The second we have the bounty, you're fucking done."

"Fair enough," he says, shrugging a shoulder.

You are so ready to keep fighting, his response throws you off-balance, as if you swung at him while he stepped backwards, out of reach.

You're convinced: he's insane. You need to get off this ship – or, better yet, figure out how to fly it, ice the Mandalorian, and steal this ship – before his insanity gets you spectacularly murdered.

He crosses the room with an obnoxious saunter, and you can only stare at the strip of black transparisteel that covers his eyes. He isn't much taller than you, but this close, the expressionless lines of his helmet cow your neck into bending. You may as well be looking up at a skyscraper.

He holds out a hand.

"Deal," he says in a low voice. The vocabulator scrapes against it, turns it into something that purrs. It makes your spine crawl, like a loth-cat pet the wrong way.

You want to break all of his fingers. Or bite them. Again.

"Fuck you," you spit, grabbing his hand as unpleasantly as possible, shaking it once, and discarding it.

He shakes his head, then walks over to a cabinet and retrieves an ancient-looking medpac from inside it. He hands it to you, and then digs something out of a pouch on his belt and places it on top of the medpac.

It's your comlink.

"Thought it might be an explosive, at first," he says. "Had to be sure you couldn't use it to blow a hole in the ship. Take it as a token of good faith."

You snatch it up and jam it into your pocket before he can change his mind.

Glaring at him, you ask, "Can I have my weapons back?" You already know the answer.

"Not until I know you won't do anything stupid with them."

So much for "good faith." No matter; you'll just crack the weapons locker later.

Deciding the conversation is over, he crosses back to the hatch that must lead to the helm.

"Why'd you–" you cut yourself off. You hadn't meant to say anything, at all. A dozen questions are brawling with each other inside your battered head: Why did you keep the comlink intact if you thought it might be dangerous? How did you get me back to your ship? How did the bounty manage to escape? Are you trying to be a sanctimonious prick, or is that congenital?

You really don't even remember me?

You'd almost asked the big question: Why did you bring me here? It strikes you as a deeply stupid thing to ask – why remind him that he has the option to abandon you on a moldy rock to bleed out? But he's standing in the doorway, looking at you, waiting for you to finish the sentence. So, instead, you ask, "Why'd you leave my helmet on?"

It's a fair question, even if it's an immaterial one. He could have taken it off, tried to identify you – hell, taking the helmet off would have been the sensible thing to do, from a first aid standpoint. It isn't as if you're the one with the fucked religious hangups about keeping armor on.

He, for the first time, actually looks uncomfortable. His weight shifts between his boots and his helmet tilts downwards. The rest of him turns slightly towards the helm, as if he'd rather leave than say anything. He stands there, subtly contorted, for a few breaths.

You like him uncomfortable. It feels like the faintest wisp of a victory.

"It seemed like the right thing to do," he says finally, sheepishly.

He returns to the helm, muttering something about setting a course for the bounty's hideout on Mimban, and you retreat to the bunks, medpac tucked against your chest, those words ringing in your ears.

The right thing to do? Kriffing unhinged. It's a helmet.

You find a small pair of scissors in the medpac. Those go into your pocket, too.

You patch yourself up, getting your first glimpse at the knife wound in your side. Seeing it, the extent of it, you know you would have died in that bunker, if he'd left you behind. Rather than gratitude, that fact makes you feel somehow manipulated. Like he did it knowing how it would twist you up inside.

You fall asleep on the cot, dreaming of all the ways you could kill him.

[taglist] @orcasoul @djarins-cyare @tortor-mcgee

#the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian #mando x reader #mando x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #pedro pascal #the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian fic #mando fic #enemies to lovers #no use of y/n

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arziaisfrench · 1 year

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▪︎ IPKKND Ep 45 recap : Telepathic bond

Arnav is about to get in a live-in relationship with Lavanya. His sister is happier than ever since her husband is back. Arnav is getting back to a routine he had before Khushi.

He has every reason to feel content. But he feels empty instead. Just like that day when he took back sheesh mahal, the home of his parents. It was supposed to be a moment of huge satisfaction. But he felt nothing special, he felt empty.

Just like that night, he close his eyes, secretly wishing to be able to be happy in his life. And just like before, Khushi arrives.

This time he can sense she is near him. This time Khushi could feel him near too.

This is the first time we see them both having their "magical awarness" (they can feel each other presence). But I actually believe the first time they met is when that magical awarness appeared ! When Arnav and Khushi' eyes were opening and closing at the same time, it was them unconsciously calling each other. "Someone please come to my life and save me" and then, they saw each other.

"What is she doing here?" Didn't she leave me? Is she back? did she come to talk to me?" Is she willing to accept my challenge?" Arnav is suprised to see her in his office once again. He already thought of the possibility to not see ever again. He tries to understand what's going on.

Arnav is looking at Khushi has a treasure he thought he lost. But here is she, in front of him ! Khushi is shocked seeing him there.

But he hears her tell the employee that she came to take her stuff back. The moment is started to have hope again, here is she crashing it by saying she's has no intention to stay. As I wrote before, Arnav is far more sensitive that people think. Therefore, he gets irritated. "Oh, so you just gonna leave like that? Leave me without even trying to fix our relationship?"

The employee tell Khushi that Arnav ordered her stuff to be sent to her house. She gets irritated.

She, somehow, also feels disappointed that he already ask her stuff to be out of his office. She thinks he was already making room in his life, throwing her out. "Oh, you must be in such a hurry to make everything that reminds you of me out of your sight, don't you?! Intead of trying to fix our relationship?"

And maybe Arnav could sense her irritation, fearing another misunderstanding between them, he calls her name for the 2nd time (with a muche more gentle and prudent voice), trying to speak with her. "Khushi. Come to my cabin. I need to talk to you."

She thinks he's giving her an order and therefore still placing a hierarchic distance between them. But that's not it. Arnav doesn't know how to ask a favor to a stranger. He doesn't how to speak to her yet.

But Khushi terribly wants him to talk to her with respect, cause she wants him to think of her as an equal, as someone worthy. She doesn't realize he already does, and since day one.

"Khushi can we talk, please?" I think she would've stop and speak to him if he had use these words instead.

Arnav thinks she turned around as a way to probably challenge him again. But it wasn't the case, she was actually already kinda sad to not being able to talk to him ever again, she ignored him cause she felt disrespected of him giving her an order after everything that happened, him risking her life (the way she looked at him while turning around betrayed her bittersweet sentiments)!

Khushi, as always, first runs away from him then slow down, then consciously and unconsciously wait for him to stops her !!

> A need to touch :

When they touch, they can lost themselves in each other eyes and savor their physical proximity (attraction). They crave that proximity. Khushi lets him get this close. She never lets anyone else this close to her. She isn't pushing him away. (She also noticed how he protected her statue) She wants him as much as he wants her. But she doesn't trust him. That's why she refuses to take his hand.

Arnav is lowkey so annoyed their moment has been ruined by that phone ring haha ! That's probably why he's gonna throw it away her phone, cause it always ruins their interactions. 😅😬 (even in the future, he will make sure to stops her from giving her phone call more attention to him lmao)

"Is she talking to another dude? Why can't she talk to me like this too?" He's jealous. He refuses to go even when she ignored him. He wants her to stop misunderstanding him. He never wanted to hurt her. He never wanted her to leave him. What's even more interesting is that Khushi doesn't want him to know she's talking to a guy. She doesn't want him to misunderstands her having any type of relationship with another dude. interesting, right? hehe 👀

He hates the idea of Khushi ignoring him. Notice her reaction when he stopped her. She's not angry. It's only when he closes the door that she gets scared.

"Do you know anything else except running away? Normally your mouth never gets shut. Why is it shut now?" Arnav knew that her cold behavior was her not trying anymore to interact with him, to not be somehow in his life like she used to try to do unconsciously before !

In misterious way, Arnav always understood how her silence was most of the time a very very bad sign, as if he could already sense how her denial is the way she chose to protect herself.

"Do you know anything else except ruinning away? Normally your mouth never shut. Why is it shut like that now? You made me fall for you because of your big mouth, because of you daring to argue with me. And now, why do you keep punishing me with your silence. Talk to me. Don't keep that cold distance between us, Khushi please !"

He did pushed her too her limits tho, which created a misunderstanding : she thinks he doesn't want her in his life. But on the contrary, he very much does. But Arnav also can sense she's also feeling the attraction, that she is ruining away from it, from them.

"That day also I was telling you something and you left without listening." He's talking about when he challenged her to make a move on him. He thinks she wasn't attentive enough to understand what he was insinuating. She did catch the insinuation but couldn't believe he would ask her that.

But while screaming talking, Arnav realized something : Khushi is scared of being alone with him. She doesn't trust him. She still remember his digusting behavior and threat the first day they met "I haven't started to misbehaving".

It never crossed his mind she would react that way to his proximity in a closed space. He always saw her daring him and arguing with him. But now he understands she misunderstood him for a man who could cross dangerous limits. She doesn't think he's a good man yet.

(Khushi has every right to misundertand him for being one of those trashes, since the first time they met, he threatened her, yes he didn't actually meant to do anything to her, but it was a disgusting move! I'm so mad at the writers for having write that scene. But in the other hand, it also make sense, i mean by that, Asr was created by Arnav to be seen as a ruthless and dangerous man)

He moves away, respecting her space, trying to show her he now gets it, that he now understands she's scared of him. He'll from now on try his best not to indulge in anything that might makes her feel unsafe. He never actually meant his word that day, that's why he completely forgot. He's shocked seing her tremble because of her fear of him, shocked and ashamed.

When her dupitta fall, he looks away and give it back to her while keeping a certain deistance, letting her know he indeed respects her modesty. Khushi notices the change, I think she understood his intentions. She understands the meaning of him giving her space. She knows he's trying to not makes her feel uncomfortable.

Soon, he'll understand Khushi's behavior around him better. She doesn't hate him, a part of her is still scared of him, I would even say terrified, while he never really think she was.

As I previously wrote, Arnav has this misconception of Khushi, thinking she's a super strong and brave girl, he forgot she also can be vulnerable and afraid as any other women.

Arnav knew khushi was brave. But he thought her courage was coming from an unfearful predisposition. And that's not the case. She really challenged herself to confront him after his disgusting threat he made. She gather all her strenght to challenge her fear of him ! Being brave doesn't always mean being fearless indeed.

I think Arnav quickly understand that now. And once more, can't help himself for not feeling impressed by Khushi. He hates himself for having make her feel this fear of him. He can bear her hate but not her fear. He wants to comfort her, but he doesn't know how. This is the only way he found at the moment.

Apologizing is not something he knows how to do. And yet again, there is a psychological reason behind that unability. Let me try to explain briefly (i'll explain more later):

Arnav's self-esteem is not as high as most people think. Arnav actually doesn't believe he's worth to be loved. His parents not only betrayed him but also abandonned him. His personality disorder helped him coped with that tragedy indeed but also help him cope with his own negative feelings he had for his parents especially his mother for abandonning him, i'll elaborate about this much later through my recaps.

Therefore his self-worth as Arnav is very fragile. Asr is successful and desired by a lot of women, envied by many, yes but because of his professional achievements not because of who Arnav really is as a human being, when he's not having to prove his worth through professional exploits.

I don't know if I making myself understandable enough lol cause that duality is not always easy to explain, especially in english since i'm not fully bilingual.

Apologizing is something too hard for him to do because it would affect that persona he wants people to see him as, someone who is unable to break nor to be in the wrong, Asr.

☆From Ep 45 Khushi/Arnav similiarities : -They both crave each other touch. -Both dreams of each other -Neither actually wants to leave one another, "they always leave the door open"

Khushi/Arnav differences : -Arnav is very impulsive. Khushi is very prideful. -Khushi distances herself from Arnav by avoiding him or staying silent. Arnav disances himself from her by reminded her of their social status gap.

#ipkknd #ipkkndep45 #arshi #arnav and khushi

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shygiverqueen · 7 months

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First Note: At the start of a prologue; this scene took place in a Star wars Obsession comic issue #5.

-----Prologue------

"Finish her."

The command was spoken with cold authority, and the Magna droid wasted no time in obeying. A blaster shot rang out through the air, finding its mark in Ventress's chest. As she fell to the ground, her ocean eyes fixated towards the sky, resentment coursing through her veins. She was betrayed by her Master, Count Dooku, left to die in the hands of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Asajj lay motionless on the grass, her body growing weaker by the second. Despite her countless attempts to exact vengeance upon the Stewjon Jedi, a familiar face shielded her view of the departing shuttle. Obi-Wan's compassion and leniency disgusted her, yet there was a flicker of hope in her heart as he cradled her head.

Obi-Wan kneeled beside her, offering false reassurances of impending medics, but they both knew it was too late. Blood stained her lips as she coughed weakly, wiping it away with a smirk. She saw his pity fade, replaced by sorrow, as he held her hand. A rarity in the galaxy, she thought, to find kindness in the most unexpected places.

With blurred vision, Asajj mustered the strength to speak. "The pity is gone from your eyes," she muttered, acknowledging the sadness reflected in his apprentice's gaze as well. Obi-Wan wiped away her tears, and she allowed it, knowing her time was running out.

"Yes...I know you'll be one with the Force soon, finally at peace," he replied, his voice heavy with sorrow.

Asajj tightened her grip on him, a moment of vulnerability showing through her hardened exterior. "Watch the center of the galaxy. It is the key to victory... Defend Coruscant from Dooku," she whispered. Obi-Wan nodded, understanding the weight of her final words.

"And here I thought you'd use your last breath to curse us," he snarked gently, trying to ease the heaviness of the moment.

Asajj frowned, her grip weakening within his hand. "Perhaps I have... Perhaps I just...hate Dooku more than I hate you... Or maybe..." Her voice trailed off, the light fading in her pale eyes.

"You were right about me all along," she managed to say, tears streaming down her cheeks. Obi-Wan watched with sadness as she drifted into unconsciousness.

"May the Force be with you, Asajj Ventress," he murmured softly, an acknowledgment of the battles she had fought and the pain she had endured. Anakin placed a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder, offering silent support.

As the medical frigate finally arrived, it was clear that Asajj Ventress...

Was finally at peace.

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As she found herself drifting in and out of consciousness. Time seemed to lose its grip on her as she floated in a realm between dreams and reality. She could vaguely hear voices discussing her fate, debating whether she should even be alive.

"The orders are clear, take her out," a voice said, its tone filled with cold determination. It was a chilling reminder that her life was in the hands of others, and they held the power to snuff it out without a second thought.

She felt a jolt soon after, as if her body was being moved. The sensation was hazy and distant, like the flicker of a dying candle. The two shadowy figures she had seen earlier watched her passively, their purpose still unknown to her. As the ship she was on moved farther into space, it became nothing but a speck in her line of sight.

—--

As her eyelids fell, her breathing remained steady, a rhythmic lullaby in the quiet of her mind. She drifted further into a serene slumber, her senses attuned to the gentle whispers of the cosmos. Amidst the darkness, she found solace, as if floating weightlessly among the stars.

Unbeknownst to her, the ship carrying her continued its journey towards an unknown destination. Her body remained in a state of peaceful repose, unaffected by the turbulence of the outside world. The voyage held a mysterious purpose, one that only time would reveal.

—--

Moments later, her dreams were interrupted by a sudden jolt, snapping her momentarily out of her blissful haze. The gentle rocking motion and the low hum of the ship indicated a landing was imminent. Yet, she remained in a state of suspended animation, her consciousness lingering between realms.

A warning blared through the ship's speakers, its message muffled and distant.

[ Warning….Landing….is...Eminent.]

She heard the collision, the impact vibrating through her slumbering form. Despite the chaos around her, she found comfort in the realm of dreams, her breathing the only constant in her tranquil universe.

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Confusion etched itself across her face as her eyes fluttered open. The unfamiliar surroundings and mysterious circumstances stirred her from her deep slumber. She tried to gather her thoughts, her mind groggy and her senses dulled.

"What's… going on?" she muttered, her voice raspy and weak.

With a surge of remaining strength, she pushed through the haze and forced her eyes to focus. The sight before her was disorienting. She found herself in a small, enclosed space with a single round window. Panic infected her as she noticed something skittering outside, casting shadows on the glass. Fear and curiosity intertwined, fueled by her confusion.

"Where am I?" she questioned aloud, her voice trembling.

Memories from before her slumber began to resurface, fragmented and hazy. She vaguely recalled walking the streets of New York City, but the details were blurred, the moments blacked out.

Her gaze fell to her attire. What she wore was completely unfamiliar to her. Tight-fitted leather clothes and breeches clung to her figure, accentuating her body in a way that felt both foreign and uncomfortable.

"What the hell am I wearing?" she whispered, the harsh raspy tone of her voice betraying her exhaustion.

A sense of urgency overtook her, and she quickly unstrapped herself from the safety harness, rising to her feet. However, the increasing migraines pulsating through her head threatened to overwhelm her, causing her to stumble. Instinctively, she reached a hand to her now clean-shaven head, a realization striking her with disbelief.

"Mirror. I need a mirror," she muttered, searching desperately for a glimpse of her reflection.

There was nothing in the confined space except for a single round window at the front, drawing her attention. Intrigued and hopeful, she eagerly approached it, hoping it would solve the mystery of her current condition.

As she caught sight of her reflection in the window, her hand flew to cover her mouth in shock. The face staring back at her was not her own. Distinctive ocean-colored eyes met her gaze, framed by pale, chalky skin. Six lavender tattoos adorned her face, their knife-like shapes a stark contrast to her plump lips. Confusion and recognition battled within her, a faint whisper from the depths of her being hinting at a familiar connection to this woman she saw before her.

"Who the hell are you?"

Before she could process the strange reflection any further, a sudden crash against the window shattered the fragile silence. With a shriek of horror, Asajj stumbled back, landing hard on her backside. A grotesque creature with menacing mandibles desperately tried to break through the glass, its intentions clear.

Her screams pierced the air as the monstrous creature pressed against the glass, its mandibles clawing and scraping, desperate to break through. Her eyes widened in terror as she watched it scan her compartment from the outside, its bulbous form twisted and grotesque. The sight of such an enormous spider-like creature filled her with dread and disbelief. This was far from normal.

Frozen in fear, she could only watch as the creature sprayed a corrosive substance onto the alloy, its intention to breach her fragile sanctuary. A chill ran down her spine as the acid melted through the metal, creating a hole for the arachnid to enter. Panic overcame her as she stumbled backward, her heart racing in her chest.

"Use the Force," a voice echoed in the depths of her mind, surprising her and momentarily distracting her from the impending danger.

The creature's jaws tore through the walls on either side, its aggression evident as it pinned her with its beady eyes. It hisses loudly, ready to devour her as its prey.

Summoning her courage, she heeded the voice's advice. With an intense focus, she pushed against the creature, using the Force to repel it. In a flash, she expelled her energy, propelling the spider-like beast out of the compartment. She gasped in disbelief, staring at her trembling hands, unable to comprehend her newfound ability.

Her heart still pounding, she quickly scrambled out of the ruptured entrance, reveling in the sensation of fresh air filling her lungs. As she took in her surroundings, she realized she was far from home. "Where am I?"

A swirling red mist enveloped the area, distorting her vision. Crooked trees stood like sentinels, and the starless sky sent shivers down her spine.

Questions swirled in her mind, but one prevailed:

---I did that?!

She watched with a mix of satisfaction and unease as the giant arachnid writhed in agony, entangled in the spindly branches of the crooked trees. Blood, tainted with venom, oozed from its wounds, staining the surrounding foliage. The creature's clawed hand flailed in desperation, a testament to its pain.

Suddenly, a loud creak resonated through the air. Her eyes widened as she realized the pod of her ship was slowly sinking. Without a moment's hesitation, she leaped from the vessel and into the murky water, creating a loud splash.

She resurfaced, gasping for air and struggling to stay afloat. Her arms flailed and her lungs burned as she fought her way to the surface, finally sputtering onto the nearest supporting log. She clung to it, allowing her breathing to steady as she surveyed her surroundings.

The pod sank deeper into the swirling abyss below, bubbles rising to mark its descent. Asajj knew she had to find a way out of this perilous situation. With no clear path in sight and a dangerous swamp lying before her, she felt a surge of frustration.

Silently groaning, she hatched a plan. Carefully, she submerged herself once again, moving stealthily through the water, and slipped into the lush foliage, hiding herself from any potential threats lurking in the distance.

"Great, just great," she muttered to herself, her annoyance seeping into her voice.

///

Cold and weary, Asajj emerged from the surface of the water, dragging herself onto solid ground. Exhausted, she flopped down on the field, rolled over, and took a moment to catch her breath. Looking up at the sky, void of any stars, she couldn't help but feel a sense of displacement.

Her gaze was drawn to a colossal planet reclining amidst the crimson atmosphere. The sight alone was enough to astonish her, and she buried her head in the damp ground, her leathered clothing sticking to her skin uncomfortably. The earthy scent filled her nostrils as she let out a faint sigh.

However, the nagging thought of her presence in this unfamiliar world persisted, plaguing her mind.

---How did I get here?

Confusion gnawed at her, but she resolved not to dwell on the unknown.

Instead, completely unaware of her surroundings, her eyes widening in panic as a spear was pointed directly at her. Her gaze met the piercing stare of a man with honey-yellow skin adorned in intricate black tattoos. The spear trembled dangerously in his hands, its tip aimed at her.

"Wait! Wait! D-don't kill me, please," She pleaded, her voice trembling. She never imagined that she would encounter the natives of this unknown planet. But what caught her attention most was the man's crown of horns, adding an air of mystique to his appearance. She stumbled back until her back pressed against a nearby crooked tree.

Her heart raced as the man glared at her, his brow furrowing in concentration. He continued to point the spear menacingly until, suddenly, recognition dawned upon him, and he lowered himself onto one knee, bowing in submission.

"Night Sister," he said, his voice filled with panic.

Asajj's jaw hung open in bewilderment, struggling to process the man's words. Night Sisters? What on earth was he talking about?

"Night sisters?" she muttered incredulously, barely registering her own words. "What in the nine hells is a Night sister?"

Briefly pausing, she blinked dumbfoundedly, her mind racing with confusion.

"Wait. Night sisters?" she exclaimed, her voice rising in disbelief.

Her outburst elicited a startled gasp, which she quickly stifled with her palm.

—Hell, no.

"I'm a…Night sister?"

The man looked up at her, fear glimmering in his molasses eyes.

He confirmed her suspicions with a hesitant nod.

"Uhm..." Asajj nervously scanned her surroundings, then returned her gaze to the man. "Where am I exactly?"

"You're on the far side of the Goldolan region," he replied.

She shook her head, her confusion deepening. "No, no, no. What I mean is, what planet did I come from?"

His tattooed brows furrowed in puzzlement. "Pardon?"

Rubbing the back of her neck, she took a deep breath, attempting to compose herself. "I'm sorry, I'm not really from around here. What's your name?"

He inhaled sharply, his eyes avoiding direct contact. "Goran."

"Goran," she repeated, letting the name roll off her tongue. "Hey, uhm, Goran? Do you know what the name of this planet is? The thing is..." Asajj clenched her fists to calm her mounting anxiety. "My pod ship crash-landed in this... swamp. I don't know where exactly I'm supposed to go. Can you help me?"

Goran nodded sheepishly, rising to his feet. "You're on Dathomir."

Asajj's eyes widened in disbelief.

—Holy cow! I'm really inside the fictional universe!

She let out a squeak of disbelief upon hearing the name of the planet, Dathomir. Goran looked at her with a raised eyebrow, clearly perplexed by her reaction. She quickly cleared her throat, trying to compose herself.

"Dathomir. That's... woah," she muttered, her eyes searching vacantly.

Goran tilted his head skeptically. "Woah?"

Realizing her slip-up, she quickly shook her head. "Nothing, just nothing." She wrapped her arms around her chest, feeling a sudden wave of confusion and uncertainty.

"Are you alright, sister?" Goran asked, his voice laced with concern.

"Don't call me that," She scowled, noting how Goran flinched at her sharp tone. Her shoulders sagging in realization. "I'm sorry. I'm just... confused. And lost."

Goran frowned, contemplating the situation as he grabbed his spear. "Do you want me to escort you to the Night Sisters' clan? There's a village up ahead. The road may be treacherous, but if you take the cave, it's an easier route. They may be able to help you with your troubles."

"No!" Her voice startled Goran again. "I-I can't go there. Can I go with you instead?" She locked her eyes onto the Dathomirian man, desperate for an alternative.

Goran seemed taken aback by the request, searching for a solution to help her. "I... but sister-"

She interrupted him, grabbing his hand. " Please . I just need somewhere else, and you're the only person I could... you know, trust?"

Concern etched onto Goran's tattooed features as he looked away, deep in thought. He adjusted the collar of his outer tunic, straightening his shoulders before finally giving his response.

"Come with me." He extended his hand towards her. "But first, may I know the woman I'm speaking to?"

She swallowed nervously and shrugged her arms. "Julia."

"No. Your real name," Goran insisted firmly.

She furrowed her brows, confused by his request. "That's my real name."

His lips pressed into a tight line, but the determination in his eyes softened. Slowly, Julia gently touched his hand.

"I will take you to my village, on the far side. My brothers may expect visitors from a Night sister, but if you're looking for sanctuary, they are willing to accommodate you, and the trials they are willing to commit to whoever mate you choose." Goran said pensively.

Julia's reaction halted abruptly. "Tri-trials? No!" Goran gave her a bewildered glare in response.

Her voice held a hint of panic. "I'm not looking for a mate, just... no trials, please. Like I said, I need somewhere else."

Goran breathed out a sigh of relief, choosing not to pursue the matter. "Alright. Follow me." And so, Julia began to follow the broad man through the forest, the thick layer of fog adding an eerie atmosphere. She clung to his hand for a sense of safety.

"Quickly, the creatures of the forest are active, so be aware of your surroundings," Goran warned in a low tone.

Julia nodded ambivalently, realizing that he seemed to know his way around this eerie place. She trusted him and ventured onward, following the winding road.

"It's strange that you don't even remember the birthplace of your people," Goran remarked in a low voice.

Before Julia could respond, Goran's attention abruptly perked up. Both of them found themselves enveloped in a haze that obscured their vision, preventing them from seeing anything ahead.

End note: If ya'll interested for more copy this link below to my A03:

#modern girl in star wars #star wars legends #ao3 fanfic #reincarnation #self insert #commander wolffe #asajj ventress #star wars clone troopers #star wars clone wars

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bungod-hearth · 3 years

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A very special day for a very special nuisance emergency food imp Friend! Happy birthday Paimon, we couldn’t wish for a better guide <3

#paimon #genshin impact #paimon genshin impact #LISTEN #I know she's probably gonna be fundamental for the plot #and maybe consciously or unconsciously betray us #and that she's a bit dumb #but I love her okay #I wouldn't have her any other way #also the fact that her birthday is the first day of pride month? iconic #bun's art

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natsarrownecklacx · 2 years

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Before I Wake

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: Natasha Romanoff, a part of Y/n’s heart she knows she can never replace. A part of her heart that, unfortunately, is out of her reach, leaving behind a space where the red head should be and an ache Y/n knows she must get used to. What happens when y/n is shown there is a way to have her heart be full. For y/n have Natasha and for Natasha to have her.

Warnings: Each chapter will come with it’s own warnings. For this chapter- Insomnia.

Word count: 1,172.

A/n at the end :)

ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ

It's a strange thing really, sleep. Hours and hours of staring at the four walls of your room and that's the conclusion you’ve come to. No bigger understanding of the world around you, no new realisation of who you are as a person, no great discovery that could be considered a benefit to society.

No, because that would have been time well spent. At least then you could say something good had come from your sleepless nights. You'd have made some contribution to the people around you, something you'd done would have been worthwhile.

Maybe then you'd be worthwhile.

Sleep, it's such a strange thing. The words echo in the back of your mind again as you pull a blanket tighter around you body. The unforgiving winter cold biting at your skin, causing goosebumps to rise there.

Huffing out a breath of frustration, you turn to the small digital clock on your bedside table. A dim glow emanating from it, the only source of light in the dark room.

4 a.m., it read.

Usually by now you'd have fallen into some form of shallow sleep.

Not enough to let you get any proper rest, vividly dream or even fall fully unconscious, but enough to know your not entirely awake either.

You’d slip into a sort of in between state, where you feel completely out of touch with the rest of the world and the laws of time it usually follows.

You’d lie there in your "in between state'', hovering over the line of consciousness and unconsciousness for hours, until long after the sun came up, too tired to do anything else.

Each and every time your body would start to slip into the peace granted by sleep your eyes would betray you by flying open, a frustrated sigh falling from your lips.

This same routine would be repeated over and over until you’d give in, giving up on the idea of more than two hours of what can barely be considered rest. Deciding instead to just get up to go about your day. Despite your “zombie-like" nature, your father's words not your own.

It almost seemed as though, once the sun went down, time lost all meaning.

Hours tick by like seconds, yet somehow with each click of plastic, indicating the passing of another minute, hours also feel like days.

Hours on end trapped in your mind, the four walls in your head begin to mirror those around you.

It's as though your completely cut off from the world you know is just outside your window.

The same window that, at some point during the night, seems to disappear, taking with it the door and any way of escaping the room you find yourself confined in.

Leaving you to sit, as you have done countless nights before, to stare into the darkness of your room.

Releasing a slow tired breath you shake your head, trying to rid yourself of the negative thoughts plaguing your mind.

Spiralling into self pity isn't going to help anything and you know that but God is it hard on a night like tonight.

It's been weeks since you've had a proper night's sleep, days since you’ve had more than two hours of barley there rest.

In all that time your mind was hardly given any time to just shut off.

It's just your luck that your cycle of no sleep to over sleep would fall on a no sleep run while your already not feeling great.

“Bad things come in threes”, that's what your grandmother used to tell you, before she passed. You have the first two down, now it's just a matter of time for the third to come calling, and it will.

“Bad things come in threes”, grandma Holly's voice rings out in your head again.

One, feeling out of touch with the world.

Two, brain seemingly on a sleep strike.

Three, what will the third thing be? You don't know and if your being honest with yourself, you don't want to find out.

As hard as it is to push through days like these you know that eventually, like all the time before, you’ll be overcome with exhaustion, unable to resist the urge to sleep.

That's when the cycle will reset, starting over with the weeks over sleep before plunging you back into weeks of restless nights. Your "sleep cycle from hell", as you like to call it.

If you’re completely honest with myself it isn't so bad.

The hours alone give you time to let your imagination run wild, the black of your walls making the perfect canvas for the picture of your life you want to paint.

Not the life you currently live, where each and every day feels like nothing more than one big long chore to get through. No. The life you spend my time dreaming of is one of hope for your future, one of love and a little bit of magic.

A bit unrealistic really but who ever said our dreams have to be realistic? If it gives you hope, if it brings you joy, why not embrace it with open arms?

Who's to stop you from grabbing it with both hands and holding onto it like your life depends on it.

Some days it feels like it does.

Feeling your mind drift, as a form of distraction from the passing time, you find yourself thinking of your favourite film franchise, Marvel. Of the comfort characters you’ve grown oh so attached to, the people you secretly view as the family you’ll never get to meet.

It's a wonder really, how you could have such a strong emotional connection to people you’d never be able to see or touch.

It's as though some part of you, however small, is always looking for them to be close, no matter how impossible you know it to be.

You can't help but miss your fictional family, despite never actually being in their presence before. It sounds silly. Especially when you'd tried, on few occasions, to explain the feeling to someone else, but that wouldn't stop the feeling from growing, weaving it's way inside your heart at any given moment.

Some part of what you call home is always missing and that, admittedly, can be an incredibly lonely feeling. You know that you’d never give them up though, not when just thinking of them with you can get you through your toughest days.

Looking back over to the clock you take note of the time.

5:52 a.m.

You must have been thinking longer than you realised again.

Rolling back over, in an attempt to find a more comfortable position to lie in, you feel you body relax against the mattress beneath you.

A sigh of relief leaves your mouth, feeling the tug of sleep pulling on your mind so strongly.

Not the dull ace of exhaustion and unrest you’re mind has grown accustomed to over the last few weeks but real, genuine sleep.

That, after so long, feels like more of a miracle than any from the bible, not that you really believe in it.

ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ

A/n- This part it pretty uneventful and short I know, I just wanted to set up the start of the story & introduce y/n’s character.

The idea for this story came loosely from two of my other fics (Dreams & reality, and Lucid dreams) thought some parts may be similar this story will follow a different plot.

#natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha x you #natasha romanoff #natasha x y/n #natasha romanoff x y/n

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alexiethymia · 3 years

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Jeanne Theories (but more like questions)

A dump for all my questions and theories about Jeanne. In the manga, the third chapter is named after her (Chapter 1 is Vanitas, while Chapter 2 is Noe). Arguably, you could say she’s the third most important character. Among all of the main characters, her past seems to be the one we know least about. This actually ties to my questions relating to vampires and their ages.

I am a bit confused about how aging works with vampires and how that reflects physically. We have Noe and Dominique who are chronologically the same age as Vanitas. Assuming nothing goes wrong, human Vanitas would die of old age (except we know that isn’t the case), while Noe and Dominique would look physically the same how many years later. Jeanne’s age wasn’t intentionally revealed because I think it ties in with the plot, but we know she’s centuries older than the main cast. She’s been with Ruthven since before the betrayal, and grew up with Chloe. This is where it gets confusing for me. Chloe became a vampire at four, but physically stopped aging at eleven years old. Jean Jaques was also a hidden vampire changed by Babel but he ended up growing and looking older than Chloe (at least physically). Same with Jeanne. She and Chloe met when Jeanne was younger than her, but Jeanne grew up to look like a young woman. I’m curious as to the difference as to why it was only Chloe who stopped growing physically at around eleven years old, although she’s older than Ruthven.

Jeanne’s link to Luna of the Blue Moon

I don’t think the line above is a throw-away line. Jeanne was of Ruthven’s time, and we find out that Luna had also seen her, specifically during the time of the Great War. She left that big of an impact on Luna that they would retell the story to Vanitas (and I presume Mikhail too), which had that much of impact on him as well.

They removed this context from the anime which makes it as if Vanitas heard of Jeanne through stories, except we know from the manga that it was more personal since he heard it from Luna.

Why exactly did Luna have admiration towards Jeanne? Was it because she was slaughtering Vampires of the Red Moon? But contrary to the rumors, recent chapters would show us that Luna didn’t seem to be a vengeful entity or hold ill-will toward Vampires of the Red Moon.

Luna was also probably the reason why Vanitas felt an initial connection with Jeanne. Like with his hourglass earring, the name, the book, the gloves, etc., despite their complicated past, Vanitas seems to be (consciously or unconsciously) maintaining a link with Luna.

Jeanne’s Slumber (possible connections with Sleeping Beauty)

Why was it necessary for Jeanne to sleep all this time? And why did she have to wake up now, at this exact moment in time? What exact thing does Ruthven need to use her for, and for what purpose? Because let’s admit it, Lord Ruthven is shady af.

It’s also ironic how Jeanne reads Sleeping Beauty and places Vanitas in the princess’ position, when she has more in common with the fairytale. Having to sleep for a hundred years, her mark is that of a rose with thorns evoking the imagery of ‘Briar Rose’ and the spindle, while her epithet ‘Hellfire Witch’ evokes imagery of the evil fairy who could turn into a dragon and breathe fire (admittedly I may be focusing on the Disney version too much).

We know she’s named after Jeanne d’Arc, a martyr who was burnt at the stake (please, please, let this not be foreshadowing of how she dies) hence the connection to her epithet ‘Hellfire Witch’, but even disregarding how vampires (and perhaps humans as well?) have true names, Vanitas says she was ‘bestowed’ a saintly name. We know she was adopted, and we don’t know the circumstances of her birth which are shrouded in mystery, but could Ruthven have been the one to grant the name ‘Jeanne’ to her?

If not for the fact that we already had Florifel and Eglantine in the first chapter, I would have thought Jeanne’s true name and malnomen if she gets one later would be connected to the fairy tale of Sleeping Beauty.

Jeanne’s Malady

The vampires in Vanitas no Carte are different from the stereotypical portrayals of vampires, except for one - Jeanne. Jeanne has that uncontrollable desire to drink blood, and yet as of now, doesn’t appear to be a curse bearer. Based on her patchy memories, we can infer it was Ruthven who made her like this, is the one to supply her with her sketchy medicine, all the while forcing her to swear not to talk about it.

Is she in the same predicament as Loki, Luca’s older brother, forced to have the symptoms of a curse bearer and yet being prevented from being cured, by Ruthven? For what greater purpose? Why is it necessary for Loki to be a curse bearer? And more intriguing than that, why is he consenting to it? It all relates to the Queen somehow, something which no one is privy to except the Oriflamme Family.

Sleeping Lions

Who could Marquis Machina be referring to? Everyone in the Oriflamme family, and by extension Jeanne, have connections with the imagery of lions and fire (they seem to have an elemental affinity like how Luca displayed, except that Ruthven’s is black fire, which makes me wonder what color Loki’s flames would be if ever). Jeanne can’t seem to manipulate the World Formula like Ruthven and Veronica though. The flames come out of her gauntlet, Carpe Diem.

In relation to that, I think Misha’s patron is Marquis Machina. In the same way, Marquis Machina built Carpe Diem for Jeanne, I think he built Misha’s hand and dog for him. I mean Marquis Machina doesn’t seem to be working with Ruthven and Charlatan. His pieces seem to be the kin of the Blue Moon (Vanitas and Misha), the dhams, and the De Sade family. It could also be that the De Sade have their own agenda and are just using Marquis Machina or it’s just a mutual beneficial arrangement. If so, an eventually power struggle is bound to break out, possibly between the De Sade and the Oriflamme families, and poor Jeanne will be caught in the middle. Where then does the Shapeless One play into this? Perhaps a third faction? A silent observer? A loyalist to the queen? There’s still too little information to theorize.

Who could the Sleeping Lion Marquis Machina wants to see wake up be?

Jeanne, Faustina, Luna, and Naenia

It could just be a stylistic thing, but the long flowing light colored hair seem to be common among all of them.

In relation to Pandora Hearts and its themes of will and what measure is a person, what if the Jeanne that we know now is just a consciousness inhabiting a body (kind of like Oz and Jack), specifically the queen’s body to be exact. It would certainly be foreshadowing to when she says ‘promise to kill me when I’m no longer myself anymore’.

Alternatively, the current Jeanne we know may just be a vessel or a golem to house the Queen whose body has deteriorated. It certainly would explain why she was treated as a doll even in her earliest memories. ‘Jeanne’ isn’t supposed to exist.

Although it’s a long shot, since Ruthven has connections with Charlatan, and by extension Dr. Moreau, could ‘No. 70′ have been Jeanne? Again like I said, it’s a long shot. I think it’s likelier that No. 70 is a character we haven’t been introduced to yet.

Jeanne’s Parents

This is a Mochizuki work. Of course, there’s got to be something to it. Why exactly did they side with the humans so suddenly in the war? What horrible thing did the vampires do to have over a thousand of their kind turn against them? And yet the way it reads, rather than betray Ruthven, I think Jeanne’s parents along with all of the vampires who were slaughtered were sacrificial pawns. Maybe I’m just really biased against Ruthven, but I think he was the one to lead the rebellion of his students, and like Chloe, although he presents himself to be an ally of the current Vampire Monarchy, perhaps he’s just biding his time to get revenge for his students. In working with Charlatan, it’s vampires who he’s harming.

What greater purpose could he have in wanting to assassinate his own nephew or ally himself with a known vampire extermination unit of the Chasseurs (Gano and his ilk) or in killing so many vampires by having their true names corrupted?

Face to face with Noe, we see in their meeting that Noe says the exact same words Ruthven told Chloe when he was younger. Noe reminds Ruthven of his students, while Ruthven reminds Noe of his teacher. I’m not really sure where I’m going with this, but it seems like the Ruthven of now scorns his past self’s moderate and progressive ideals of vampires and humans living in harmony. He speaks of our side, your side, and Noe having to choose one or the other. And yet all of his collective actions at this point have served not to protect but rather harm vampire kind, which puts him in direct opposition to Vanitas who wants to save vampires.

In relation to Jeanne, there will be a boiling point. She’s loyal to Luca and she’s loyal to Ruthven. She’s incredibly fond of Dominique. As of now, she also loves Vanitas. And yet down the line, inevitably Luca and Ruthven will be on opposing sides, so I am curious to see how the betrayals and conflicting loyalties will play out.

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oitommothetease · 3 years

Text

Invisible String (13/15)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female reader (Modern AU)

Word Count: 2.2k words

Warning : angst, violence, sad reader, sad Bucky, shitty Rumlow, maybe Steve isn’t that bad, the doughnuts are back from chapter 11, did I mention angst?, angst, more angst

Everything was dark, you noticed. When you slowly returned to consciousness, you half expected to be in your bed with Bucky tangled beside you, just like in your dreams. He fit so perfectly in your bed — your life and you, as if he was a part of you, and you weren't sure where he ended and where you began.

But when you moved to stretch your aching limbs, they moved a few inches before halting by some sort of restriction. Instantly, the bubble of your dreams burst, and everything came to your mind, and you abruptly looked around to find him. Bucky was still unconscious — tied to a chair, but instead of rope like yours, he was tied down with manacles. He had restraints on his wrists and ankles. You were sort of offended that they didn’t think you were strong enough to be captured like him. Not that you wanted those manacles anywhere near your body, but you preferred not to be treated as if you were meek.

What could be worse than getting kidnapped? It's definitely getting rekidnapped with the person who came to rescue you. Clint lied, he was working with Rumlow. His source was nothing but an ambush for Bucky. There were more than 4 of Rumlow’s men in the warehouse. Clint lied so that Bucky would come under prepared and he fell right into the trap.

Earlier, it was just you in a room alone, but now it was you and Bucky in a dingy cell-like room with a closed door. He was still knocked out when the man known as Rumlow walked in. You recalled him from the time he came to the club, and you wanted nothing more than to run towards the safe embrace of your lover.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” Rumlow’s steps halted when he was near your tied form. His hand came for your cheek and naturally, you recoiled away. Your rejection didn’t deter him, it only fueled his fury more as he held your chin tightly in his other hand and made you look at him. You attempted to get out of his grasp, which only angered him more, and he struck his hand to your face. It ached so much and it was so loud that it jolted Bucky up.

“Will you look at that,” Rumlow mocked, pushing your face away from his hold. “Lover boy can feel her pain.”

It took a second for Bucky to drink in the sight and commemorate everything. Once everything came back to him, he looked at you deplorably, his eyes filled with concern and guilt as he saw the blood dripping down your face.

“Get away from her, Rumlow!” Bucky seethed when his gaze was back at the man who hurt you. Despite the warning, Rumlow moved more towards you. One hand running his knuckles on your face in an attempt to be soothing, while the other held your chin in a painful grip.

“Why do you get to keep such a pretty thing all to yourself?” Rumlow asked rhetorically. “I should get a taste too.”

Before Bucky could try to do something, a knock on the door attracted everyone’s attention. Clint came in with a look of victory on his face.

“You betraying son of a bitch,” you hissed. Unlike Bucky, you didn’t have much self-restraint or any wise escape plan cooking in your head. “Why the fuck did you do it?”

“You’re new, sweetheart,” Clint pointed out, his tone condescending. “You don't know how it works.”

“What I know is that your wife is friends with Wanda's girlfriend,” you retorted back immediately. You were tired of being seen as weak. ”How will she feel when she finds out that you betrayed Bucky?”

A look of uncertainty came over Clint's face and you continued, “I might be new, sweetheart, but I’m not dumb.”

When Clint was astounded, Rumlow spoke up,” Ah, the power of pillow talk. You are one feisty little bitch. What else did he tell you? Did he tell you that his work is not illegal and he sells weapons to the government?”

You looked at Bucky, hoping that the man you knew and loved was nothing like this monster who assaulted you. Rumlow continued, “Barnes, Rogers and I started this whole a business together. They enjoyed the money that was brought in with our illegal escapade. He enjoyed girls like you every day. Until one day, the childhood buddies decided it was time to go clean. And they just left us in pursuit of some dream life.”

You didn’t know what to say, so you just looked over at Bucky who was staring at the floor as if waiting for it to open and swallow him whole. Was he ashamed of his past? Did he think that his past would make you love him any less? If he did, then he was highly mistaken because now you didn't see James as your arrogant boss. Now you saw a young boy who made some questionable choices and, to make a better life for himself and his family, he changed his direction. Now you saw a reckless boy who did stupid shit in his past like everyone in the world and instead of letting it define him, he made a better life for himself. Now you saw a hardworking boy who worked his ass off to build an empire for himself and his loved ones. All of these versions of him existed before you, but you only saw one — the one that mattered to you at least, you just saw the love of your life, your Bucky.

The universe might have listened to your pleas because Rumlow’s phone rang and both he and Clint exited the room. You didn’t know how to start a conversation with Bucky. He didn't want to, that you were sure of. What were you supposed to say? That his hardship and past made him look hotter in your eyes? You wanted to avoid romanticizing his struggles, so you resorted to the only thing you do when you are tense.

“This is not the lunch date I had in mind,” you teased, forcefully huffing to make the situation seem less intense. When Bucky did not respond or even looked at you, you retorted to another antic. “I remember that song name, you know — Invisible String. Taylor Swift, of course. It would make an excellent bakery name. We can -”

“We can what?” Bucky finally snapped, “You want me to fire my friends and convert the most profitable club into a fucking bakery, huh?”

“Is that what you want? A life with a man who got you involved in this shit?” you flinched at his harsh words. You knew this wasn’t your Bucky — your Bucky was all about sweet touches, teasing words and passionate kisses. No, this was the Bucky that Rumlow recognized.

“You don’t mean that,” you whispered, your tone gentle. “I’m sorry you're stuck here because of me, but -”

He cut you off. “Doll,” he exhaled, his voice devoid of all the venom present a moment ago, It was filled with the adoration towards you that you were used to; Nonetheless, it still made you feel dizzy all the time. His face softened before saying, “This isn’t your fault. It’s mine. I got you into this mess. I should have stayed away from you.”

You opened your mouth to object. You wanted to tell him that he was being stupid — that you would get through this together, but he sustained.

“I will stay away from you,” he pondered, his eyes avoiding yours again.

No, you wouldn't let that happen. You finally had him, and you wouldn't let Rumlow get into Bucky's head. “We’ll talk about this later, okay?”

“There is nothing to talk about,” he concluded, “When we are out of here. I will maintain my distance.”

You tried to ask him to stop saying that, but he kept ignoring your words and looked at the wall behind you for almost an hour. When it got to your nerves, and you were starting to get pissed he started whistling a song you weren’t quite familiar with. “Seriously? How old are you? Five?”

He didn’t respond. “So what? You're just gonna ignore me while we’re tied here?”

“Hey, let's play a game,” you tried again.

Before you could lose all your patience and start yelling at him, you heard grunting sounds from behind the door. You shuddered, swallowing the lump in your throat. You didn’t want to see Rumlow again, in fact, you never wanted to see Rumlow.

Sensing your discomfort made Bucky finally speak up. “Y/N, look at me,” his voice sweet as ever, as if he hadn't been ignoring you for the past hour. You looked at him, and he held your gaze, assuring you, “I won’t let anyone hurt you again.”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak anything. Both of you held your breath, waiting for someone to walk in and hurt you more, but it never came. All that came was a blond man with a gun in his hand, whom you recognized instantly — Steve. You didn't like that man one bit because he clearly disliked you, but at that moment, he was your angel who came to your rescue.

Immediately, Steve ran towards his pal who nodded his head towards you, indicating his friend to let you out of the restraint first. Again, he had manacles around his wrists and limbs, and he wanted you to be free of the rope that was around you. Steve took his friend’s request and freed you of your restriction before doing the same for Bucky.

When you stood up, the world stood up with you, and you realized that you hadn’t eaten anything in more than 24 hours. You almost collapsed on the floor when two strong hands came to your relief and held you. You didn’t need to keep your eyes open to see who it was. Likewise, you knew it was Bucky — you could recognize his touch anywhere, and just liked that you passed out.

The next time you gained awareness, you were moving swiftly. It took you a few seconds to acknowledge that you were in a car. You craned your neck upward to find your head situated on a hard and firm chest, Bucky looked down at you and engulfed you tighter to his side, your legs resting on his lap while his free hand was settled on the back of your thigh, holding you closer to him.

“Doll,” his voice was barely audible, and you wouldn't have heard it if you weren't so close to him or if he didn't whisper it in your ear. “You gotta eat something.”

Tiredly, you nodded and Bucky nudged you softly, encouraging you to straighten up a little before eating something. You straightened your back and somebody passed a box from the passenger seat. Steve, you recognized him and the person in the driver's seat — Sam. Both of them looked at you sympathetically, and you smiled at them, or at least tried to. You were so exhausted.

Bucky opened the box and took out a doughnut, which you brought for him that morning, or was it the previous morning? How long had it been since you were kidnapped?

Two doughnuts and one bottle of water later, you were back at your apartment. Bucky’s hand rested on the small of your back as Steve and Sam followed both of you. You hesitated before unlocking the door, and Bucky ran his hand on your back reassuringly as he ensured you, “I’ve got you, doll.”

Bucky said something to Sam and Steve, but you were too exhausted to listen. Once they were gone, Bucky strode towards you, cupping your face in his hands as he scanned your face for all the wounds. “How about you clean up, and I’ll get the first aid kit. Okay, doll?”

Just like the whole night or day or whatever time it was, you didn't remember most of the bath. You remembered going into the shower — you remembered water running down your body — you remembered seeing red water (probably from your bruises) seeping in the drain — you remembered seeing someone in the mirror you didn't recognize — you remembered falling to the floor and crying and most importantly you remembered calling for Bucky.

As if standing outside the door, Bucky was crouched over you instantly . He wrapped a towel around your naked form and held you on the bathroom floor while you cried and finally acknowledged the trauma that you had encountered.

Bucky held you as you continued to cry in muffled sobs against his chest. When you fell asleep, he placed you and tucked you in your bed comfortably before getting in himself. You wrapped your arms around him in your sleep and held him like the anchor he was to you. Bucky pressed a kiss in your hair and whispered his love and apologies to you for pulling you into his messed up life. You couldn't fathom a word he confessed before sleep finally engulfed you.

TAGS : @bananapipedreams @akkinda10 @rivers-rambles21 @emmabarnes @valsworldofcreativity @boofy1998 @marvel-3407 @mybuck @priii @coffeebooksandfandom @ladydmalfoy @shaking-a-jar-of-bees @elizamalfoyy @maladaptivexxdaydreaming @sabrinathesimp

A/N - Hey, I finally made a Taglist .This was a very intense (please don’t hate me) I love you bye. Take care!

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fic #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fic

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equestrianwritingsstuff · 3 years

Text

Summer of Whump #27: Injured

Warnings: left to care for injuries alone, thoughts of death, torture, vomit, hallucinations, fever, hurt villain whumpee

Villain fumbled with his doorknob until it opened. He collapsed with it, using only his momentum to shut the door behind him. Immediately, he slumped against it as the world around him slowly started to fade to black.

When he regained consciousness a few moments later, he momentarily forgot where he was. The pain was so great that it blocked any thoughts from slipping into his mind. He mouth tasted like blood and when he licked his damp lips, he realize that they were covered in blood.

The memories flooded into his mind like a wave, fast and overwhelming. There was Supervillain and Hero and then... Villain choked back tears. Hero abandoned him... she...

Darkness threatened to overcome him again as his mind raced with thoughts. He blinked it away and allowed his gaze to drift down to his thigh. A dagger was in the side, pushed through all the way to the hilt. Villain, with shuddering breaths, grabbed onto it with sticky hands and pulled.

A white flash of pain exploded in front of hid eyes. He let go, his body going slack and his mind spiraling down through a tunnel of oblivion.

The last thing his clouded eyes saw before he blacked out again was new blood pouring out of his wound.

He sat like that for a while, drifting in and out of consciousness. Sometimes he found himself face first into a cool, wooden floor and other times, his cheek was leaned against a cushioning substance. He just barely tried to wonder what was going on. It really didn't matter, and the agony made sure of that.

Once, he woke up enough to drag his broken body to a cupboard. He breifly considered how smart he was to keep his first aid box in a low one before pain consumed him once again. His shaking arms threatened to give out he half hoped that they did.

Villain collapsed to the ground, but didn't pass out. He weakly grabbed to the door of the precious cupboard and opened it. Quickly, he grabbed the kit and opened it.

And then he vomitted without warning, right onto his floor. It racked his broken ribs as they moved with the motion. He began to cough until he started spatting up blood.

His face sunk into the blood and puke, exhausted. He wanted so desperately for someone to find him and help him. He closed his eyes, swimming through his memories. He knew that no one would come, the one that would betrayed him, so he had prioritize injuries.

A boot clashed with his ribs, snapping and breaking them.

A spud bar hit his finger, severing it off.

Another boot hit his jaw. There was a crack right?

Hands grappled at his throat while others tied a heavy chain right above his hips.

He was dragged through barbed wire, glass, and nails.

Tears flowed freely from Villain's bloodshot eyes. The salt stung the open cuts on his cheeks. Sure he was a villain, but did he deserve this? Did he deserve to be tortured half to death and then have to lick his wounds by himself? His head lolled to the side. He didn't know what to do. In the back of his head, he was vaguely aware that shock and adrenaline was preventing the true onslaught of pain from attacking.

He groaned. He had to take care of himself before he was unable to. He opened the first aid box and grabbed guaze pads and other supplies. The dagger was the first to be removed and it would bleed, a lot.

He wrapped a towel into a roll and placed it in between his teeth. The fabric tasted funny from being mixed with all the ointments, but Villain could care less.

His hands then went to the hilt and he hesited. What if he lost consciousness again? He could wake up in complete agony and would die of infection.

Villain pushed those thoughts aside and wrapped his hands around the dagger. Before he pulled, he realized that he was using his hand with four fingers, yet he felt no pain. His heart started beating in anticipation.

Drawing in a deep breath, Villain pulled the dagger out.

Only it stopped half-way out. Villain took in shaky breaths and blinked away the black splotches in his vision. It was barbed.

"Mm," Villain groaned, laying his head back down. He swallowed the limited saliva he had. This was impossible.

More tears spilled. Villain spit out the towel. It fell out, but landed on his cheek, irritating it. He weakly raised his hand to brush it off, but it didn't work. He tried again. No luck. He tried again until frustration allowed him to kick out.

Pain erupted through his leg, centering on the dagger. Villain screamed, loud and laced with sobs.

"I-it hurts," he cried as if someone was with him, tending to him. "It hurts soo bad."

The adrenaline disappeared, leaving Villain beyond tired with a dagger half-stuck in his flesh. Hero would have someone to take care of her. Heck, she would be so pumped full of painkillers that she wouldn't feel a thing as she drifted in and out of lala land. And here Villain was, completely alone without even a simple, warm hug.

He allowed his eyes to slip shut, knowing that sleep could act like a painkiller. But it didn't come, pain kept him awake just like it brought unwanted unconsciousness.

His eyes danced back towards the dagger. Maybe his brain would shut down if he accomplished that one simple task.

Villain dug his fingers into the gnarled flesh, clenching his teeth in pain. He worked to dislodge the dagger until it broke free, clattering on the ground.

Villain sighed in relief, but was caught mid sigh when blood started pouring out the wound at a crazy fast speed. Villain lunged forward, grabbing the towel and earning a broken scream from his throat. He pressed the towel to his thigh, but his arms were not strong enough the staunch the flow.

"Hero," Villain cried. As weak as it was, it sounded booming to Villain's desperate ears. Unless, it was his foggy mind playing tricks on him. Making it seemed like he could call Hero and she would come running. Heck, would he even start hallucinating that she was indeed here?

Villain finally was able to stop the blood flow. His trembling hands hovered over the hydrogen peroxide, but he decided against it. Pouring that over the wound would make it hurt. And hurt was not on Villain's wishlist.

He instead reached for a gauze pad and gingerly laid it over the gaping injury. His shaking fingers applied medical tape over the pad.

When he was done, he closed his eyes. His head limply hung over his chest. His lips turned up in a slight smile as exhaustion pulled him under like anesthesia.

Villain came to only a few minutes later- maybe ten, but to him, he felt like hours. He so desperately wanted to sink back into sleep when he remembered what happened. His mouth was oddly dry had an unpleasant taste in it.

"Hero," he whispered, lifting his head up only for it to flop forward again.

The gauze pad was now stained with blood, but Villain had neither the energy or the will to take care of it. His whole body ached, especially at his jaw. He moved it, testing it, but it creaked and fired up in agony. Broken.

Villain closed his eyes again. He tried not to, but his thoughts drifted to the long list of priorities he came up with. His finger was long gone and he wouldn't be able to care for his jaw. The bruises on his hip bones would fade as would the surface cuts on his face.

He could wrap his ribs up, but he wouldn't be able to get his arms around to his back.

His back.

He knew that he had glass and nails stuck in it. He knew that it would get badly infected within a couple days.

If he lived that long.

Villain shut his eyes close momentarily. He would live. He wouldn't give Supervillain or Hero the satisfaction of killing him.

Fueled by motivation, Villain shot to his feet. He immediately regretted it, however, when the world tilted and collapse in on itself. He blinked back the dizziness, gripping the counter like his life depended on it. In a strange way, it did.

Villain pushed himself towards the bathroom, sometimes having to lean against walls when a sudden wave of wooziness threatened to make him crumple. But he went on like a determined father in a snowstorm, trying to get home to his freezing wife and kids with firewood.

Villain finally reached the bathroom, triumphant, but he instantly fell onto the ground and threw up again. On his way down, he smacked his head against the tile floor.

A loud sob escaped his throat as he realized his dire situation. The previous energy faded into frustration and anger, but mostly exhaustion and loneliness. He pictured the thought of an injured Hero lying in a hospital bed.

She wouldn't be covered in sweat and vomit.

She wouldn't be lying on her bathroom floor.

She would be cared for.

Villain buried his head into the crook of his elbow, wiping snot and tears on it as he dived back into sleep.

Villain woke up on a couch. He didn't recall dragging himself onto it, but one glanced at the blood smeared floor confirmed that he indeed did.

His head felt like a hammer was hitting it. He groaned and brought a hand to his forehead. Almost instantly, he pulled backwards shocked.

His forehead waa sweaty and burning.

Villain looked at his thigh and saw it festered and puffy. He knew that his back was no better.

And now he had a fever. Fabulous.

Within the next two days, Villain tried to tend to ongoing fever with little luck. He contemplated wasting the energy to drag himself to a phone and call 911, but decided against it.

He also started hallucinating.

Apparitions of Hero and Supervillain's face danced across his hazy vision. The floor around him also turned to lava. Between these realistic (according to Villain) and the burning pain of a fever, he was in a hole of misery.

Once he even woke up on the floor of the bathroom, leaning against the bath tub. Tylenol pills were strewn all over the floor in a sloppy attempt to take a few. A thermometer also made its home by Villain's feet. The number still read 104.

He shouldn't be alive.

It was a miracle, really, but part of him wanted to die and leave this mess.

"Hero," he would sometimes cry out. He wanted her- needed her. He hurt, oh so bad, and was scared and alone.

In his short spans of consciousness, he would take in his surroundings the same way each time. Look around, look at leg, and then give in again.

He remained in the bathroom, but was now collapsed on the floor, unable to do more than lift his finger.

Hero wondered what happened to Villain after beating him up. Many times, she wanted to go see, but she also feared her sister, Supervillain.

Not that Hero did not take any pleasure in injuring Villain; it was quite satisfying in an extent, but her sister went extreme when she did not allow Villain any care.

So what brought Hero to Villain's doorstep that evening? She didn't know. All she knew was that the second no one answered the door, she had this need to barge in and find Villain.

And find him she did.

Only it was not the sight she was hoping for.

Villain was passed out of the bathroom floor, shivering like a dog with hypothermia. He was covered in sweat, blood, and vomit. Wounds that covered his exposed back were deeply infected with pus.

Hero did not hesitate. She ran to Villain and scooped his figure into her arms, guilty and mortified. She allowed this to happen.

"Hey," Hero tapped Villain's cheek. "Wake ul for me, will you?"

No response.

"Villain?" Hero asked, starting to rock. Villain's eyes fluttered and he looked up at the hero in fear.

"Wha-wha," Villain tried to speak, but his heavy tongue made it difficult. He decided to just snuggle into Hero, happy to not be lonely.

"I'm so sorry," Hero reached forward and grabbed the thermometer. Villain opened his mouth willingly, but whimpered when Hero stuck the point under his tongue.

It beeped. 104.

Hero stood up with Villain still hanging limply in her arms. She would fix this.

She promised.

#summer of whump #prompt 27 #villain whumpee #guilty hero #tw vomit #feverish whumpee #crying villain #all alone #reluctant caretaker #hero whumper #supervillain whumper #torture #writing #unconscious #hero x villain

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storytellerofuntoldlegends · 3 years

Text

an icarus and his sun: chapter 11

A/N: bit of a shorter chapter this time, so i was able to get it out quicker! scott pov again :)

Warnings: injury, fever, unconsciousness, mild amnesia, corruption/infection, self-blame, self-worth issues, talk of death

AO3 Link - Tumblr Masterpost

Scott drifted in and out of consciousness, unsure of what was happening. He didn’t even register where he was at first, just heard faint but familiar voices. Then he was being lifted up, his head gently tucked into the crook of someone’s neck, and someone else’s delicate touch supporting his wings. Then some innumerable amount of darkness later, and he registered laying on something soft before there was a hand on his arm and a yelp. The yelp had sounded like Gem- had he made it to her empire? More murmuring voices, and Scott drifted out again.

The next time he drifted towards a more semi-conscious state, he was instantly filled with relief. He hadn’t really realized how warm he felt until something cool was placed on his forehead. If Scott had the energy to, he would have let out a grateful sigh. Then a hand gently ran through his hair, and Scott just about melted- in a good way this time, instead of the fever-warm kind. He must have made some sort of reaction, because he heard a half amused, half relieved chuckle from above him.

“I think the compress is helping,” the owner of the chuckle said- voice so devastatingly familiar but Scott’s brain was too fever-addled to remember who it belonged to. Inexplicably it made him think of slimeballs and glimmering scales, but he didn’t have the slightest idea why.

“Or playing with someone’s hair is the cure for corruption,” another voice teased. There was an indignant reply, a laugh from the second voice- but Scott sank into darkness again before he could decipher who either of the voices were.

Scott was shivering the next time he came to some semblance of awareness. Something soft was pulled over him, and whatever was put on his forehead before was adjusted. The hand in his hair was gone though, and he managed to make a distressed sound at that. There was a soft murmur, some comforting words that Scott couldn’t quite make out, but then there was a hand in his hair again and Scott sighed in relief. He managed to blearily blink his eyes open, and met the gaze of a pair of soft brown eyes wide with surprise and concern. The owner of the eyes had a mess of blond hair on his head, and somehow that felt wrong to Scott. The eyes he knew, but the hair… he felt like it was something he shouldn’t be seeing. But at the same time he felt he had seen it before, on a night with shimmering bronze details, dancing, and betrayal. But Scott couldn’t place why he remembered those things when looking up at the person gazing down at him.

“Easy, you’re alright. Let’s try and get some water in you, maybe a health potion too,” the devastatingly familiar man said. He shifted away from Scott, causing a distressed sound to leave his lips. The man chuckled.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere. Just gonna help you sit up a bit,” he murmured, doing just so and letting Scott lean on him when he couldn’t stay upright by himself. His wings reflexively stretched out, and Scott let out a relieved sound at the ache in his wings lessening slightly. An amused giggle came from somewhere on Scott’s other side.

“Guess we should probably make sure he’s not resting on his wings too much, huh?” the owner of the giggle said in a teasing tone. That got a semi-flustered nervous chuckle from the man holding him, who had started to gently prod Scott out from where he had been tucked into the crook of his neck. Scott made a displeased sound, trying to nuzzle into the man’s hold further. Another giggle sounded.

“Gem, stop laughing at me and help, he’s being clingy,” the man pouted. Wait- Gem? Scott knew that name. Why did he know that name?

“Don’t act like you don’t like it, Jimmy,” the other voice- Gem, apparently, teased back. The name Jimmy definitely sounded familiar, it sparked butterflies in Scott’s stomach and reminded him of teasing banter and cocky smiles. The man- Jimmy- sighed and finally got Scott out from his hiding place in the space where Jimmy’s neck and shoulder met. His head was tilted back, and something cool was pressed to his lips. He eagerly drank down the water, earning him a gently reprimanding “slow down” from Jimmy. But soon the water was gone, and despite it helping him feel much better than before, Scott found himself incredibly drained of energy as he slumped back against Jimmy. He made a distressed sound as he felt darkness tugging at him again.

“It’s alright, you can rest. I’ll be right here, I promise. I won’t let you go, ever again,” Jimmy said with gentle determination. He wasn’t sure why, but Scott felt relieved at the assurance. His eyes slipped shut, and he dimly registered a hand smoothing out his feathers as he let the darkness claim him once more.

Scott’s next semi-coherent moment was one full of pain. It felt like there was fire spreading out from his forearm, all the way up to his shoulder and down to his fingertips. There was something pulsing and squirming beneath his skin too, in tandem with the pain in his arm. He let out a choked scream when someone touched his arm, the pain intensifying so much that Scott felt like he could barely breathe. Someone took his other hand, and there was a hand gently running through his hair. Scott relaxed ever so slightly at the familiar reassuring touches, even as tears of pain started streaming down his face.

“It’s okay, breathe Scott, you’ll be alright. Squeeze my hand if you need to, it’ll be okay. I’m here, I promised you I’d be right here, remember?” a voice said- and Scott wanted to remember. He wanted to remember this person’s reassurances, wanted to remember why this person’s voice inexplicably meant so much to him- but all Scott could do was scream as the pain intensified again.

“We have to stop, this is only hurting him,” another voice said, cool and collected with an undertone of worry. The pain stopped, and Scott sobbed in relief, his hand loosening the tight grip on the other person’s hand- when had he started clutching at him so tightly? His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, his already blurry vision darkening at the edges.

“You’re alright, sorry about that, we thought maybe that would work. We’ll figure something out, I promise,” the first voice said, running a hand through his hair. Scott wanted to ask how this person was so confident that everything would be okay, but he passed out again before he got the chance.

The last time Scott woke up, he thought he was dead. This was the most coherent he had been in a while, but despite that, he somehow saw Jimmy sitting beside him, eyes closed with his cod head nowhere to be seen and a hand loosely clasped over Scott’s. Surely this had to be a dream, or some sort of bizarre afterlife where he saw visions of Jimmy actually caring about him. All those hazy memories from before, of someone Scott now definitely knew was Jimmy soothing him and reassuring him? That couldn't have been real. Why would it be? Scott had betrayed Jimmy. He shouldn't want anything to do with Scott… but that didn't mean Scott didn't want to enjoy the fantasy while it lasted.

Jimmy suddenly stirred beside Scott, hand gripping his own a bit tighter and causing his heart to flutter. Soft brown eyes blinked open, hazy for a moment before they registered Scott staring right back. An elated, relieved grin came over Jimmy’s face, and Scott really must have been dead or dreaming to earn a look like that. No way that the real Jimmy would care about him that much after everything that Scott had done.

"How are you feeling?" Jimmy asked softly, and Scott could only blink in confusion.

"Am I dead?" Scott blurted, voice hoarse from such little use. Jimmy let out a nervous chuckle at the outburst, shaking his head fondly.

"It was admittedly looking pretty bad… it's still not looking great if I'm honest- but your fever's finally gone down. So you're alive," Jimmy gently explained. Interesting. So maybe this was a fever dream then? But if this was real, and Scott really was going to be okay… he had so much he needed to say to Jimmy. He needed to explain himself, properly apologize for what he had done. He had to take this chance, even if it wasn't real so that Scott could at least finally live with himself- if he was even going to live at all.

"Jimmy-" Scott started, but was cut off with a choked gasp as pain suddenly flared in his arm, shooting all the way up to the top of his spine. It felt like there was something clawing inside him, trying to latch onto him and pull. He was suddenly gasping for breath, hands clutching at the sheets and at Jimmy’s hand.

"Scott? What's wrong, I'm here- Gem!" Jimmy called, standing up but still tightly holding Scott’s hand as he leaned over him with a worried expression. Scott was shaking now, trying to hold back whatever the hell it was clawing up towards his head. Tears sprung to his eyes as he gasped and shuddered, a death grip on Jimmy’s hand.

"I'm sorry," he managed to gasp through the pain. "Sorry" didn't even begin to cover it, there was so much more that Scott wanted to say- but the whatever it was suddenly latched onto Scott’s mind, like claws digging into his skull and forcefully pulled. His body seized one last time with a cry before going limp, his hand loosening his hold on Jimmy’s as well, and his eyes fluttered shut.

And then Scott saw nothing but red.

Taglists below! Ask to be added or removed!

MCYT General Fic Taglist: @corazon10000 @damiensaidno @franticfandomfanatic @gattonero17 @hetapeep41 @space-ace123 @vyeoh

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#empires smp #scott smajor #jimmy solidarity #geminitay #flower husbands #mcyt #aiahs #sage writes

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ofrhysand · 2 years

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𝐎𝐎𝐂; 𝙾𝚗 𝚁𝚑𝚢𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝙰𝙲𝙾𝚂𝙵

So this is a mix of a headcanon and a personal opinion ( which are rare that I share on dash ).

We all know the dislike that many of us have for Rhys and his character during ACOSF, mainly keeping the truth of her pregnancy from Feyre. I’ve already expressed to a couple of RP partners my personal opinion on this and how it does disappoint me as a Rhys RPer but it is because I am a Rhys RPer that I can get into his ‘head’ and dissect the reasons behind his decisions in ACOSF. Reminder that just because I can do this, it does not mean I am justifying, absolving, defending, supporting his actions in any way.

To start off, I think we need to go all the way back to his childhood and what we know of it as it has been written in the books. He was born the half-breed son of a High Lord of a court that has always been disliked/distrusted/judged due to the veil of secrecy it’s under. Literally, since he was born, secrets and prejudice shaped the atmosphere that he was growing in. This topped with the unfitting mating bond of his parents. He says so himself, we see it in the books that he has insecurity/fear/worry about his mate bond to Feyre being unfitting by the end of ACOWAR because of what he witnessed between his mother and father. We don’t need to be psychologists to know that what we see/learn/are exposed to in our childhood, will stick with us for the rest of our lives; unconsciously or consciously. From this alone, Rhys has a deep rooted uncertainty/insecurity/fear on matters regarding the mate bond.

Then we move on to the betrayal that led to the deaths of his mother and sister. His friendship with Tamlin was important to him and to have it be betrayed as it was with the dire consequences that followed, is yet another aspect that will stay with him. We see it in the books when he tells Feyre about it, in ACOFAS as he goes to the Spring Court and remembers the deaths of his mother and sister and their wings; that it didn’t matter that he burned them, and how he still sees their heads in the baskets. What he said to Tamlin then was not only because of what he did to Feyre, but because of what he had inside for his betrayal too. All of these glimpses tell us of how tightly Rhys holds on to these significant events in his life, even if it’s been centuries since they happened. We see it, too, when Tarquin sends those rubies, his pain at having deceived him knowing that Tarquin would maybe have given him a friendship, despite of who he is.

Then we have what happened UTM, the abuses he went through, the cruel and terrible things he did in order to keep his home safe. Even when he’s free, Rhys doesn’t tell any of the IC what happened just to spare them of the guilt and the pain, even if they assume and know regardless. He tells Feyre eventually, because she, too, was there; they share the same terrors and nightmares. Feyre is his equal, his mate, that one big dream he forever thought would remain a dream or a wish. The thought of losing her ( and let’s not forget, he did lose her once and could’ve lost her twice ), it absolutely terrifies him. All that he loves, has been taken away from him, he says so himself and he’s right, it’s just a metaphor or an exaggeration.

Now, let’s try to put together these pieces that make up his character. To survive, he’s been forced since he was a child, to deceive, to wear masks, to endure and distrust. He’s been taught that the rest of the world hates his home, his people, and this is true as we see and learn in the books. His life has been darkness, except for those stars in his life in the form of his mother, sister, IC, and now Feyre and Nyx. He lost two ( mother and sister ), but ever since finally letting go of the mask and showing the rest of the courts who he really is, finding allies and fighting together, there is light coming into his life. But it’s way too fragile, as delicate as the peace they were able to obtain when winning against Hybern. And in ACOFAS we are introduced to new troubles, including the dissent amongst the Illyrians, one of the various threats to that peace. In ACOSF, we not only have the Queens, the death trove, the Illyrians, Koschei, another war. We have Nesta too, who is of course, his family, along with Az and Elain.

Rhys is under a ridiculously immense amount of pressure. Maybe it’s easy to forget these things because we don’t get his or Feyre’s POV in ACOSF, but he is. All of the above mixed with the news that his mate and unborn child will die, and the uselessness of not being able to do anything about it. It’s bound to cloud his judgment, be him some all powerful High Lord or not. His emotions are all over the place but he can’t let them overwhelm him because it’s not just Feyre or his family that need him. At this point, it’s the whole of Prythian and he knows that, we can see it in all the discussions they have regarding the trove or Koschei, etc.. And I think we see this most when Amren tries to convince him to become High King. He is absolutely against this, and I believe it’s a big clue to find behind that resoluteness, because Amren’s reasons are logical from a strategic standpoint. And we have seen in the past that Rhys is willing to sacrifice himself if it is what must be done for ‘the greater’ and bigger picture. So, what changed? Why is his character suddenly different/altered in ACOSF from the previous books?

The fact remains that Rhys is the most powerful High Lord. He doesn’t even know the extent of his power, and in a way, I believe he is afraid of it ( along with feeling unworthy of it ), of what would happen if he were to use it, be it for good or wrong. And yet, even though he could do it, he refuses to entertain the idea of ascending as High King and I strongly believe that it’s not only because of the infighting that would bring, but because he would lose those delicate alliances and budding friendships that have come from those alliances. Rhys himself has said that he’d lost hope, that all he wanted he thought would always just be a dream and right now, ( as he cites in ACOFAS ) he has everything he ever wanted. Again, he is absolutely terrified of losing it all, but most of all, he is terrified of losing Feyre and Nyx. How is he going to tell her that the boy she saw would kill her? Would kill all three of them because of that bargain they made in a moment of love? How can he help Prythian, his people and family and friends, when he is about to die?

I wouldn’t say he was in denial because that’s not what we’ve seen to be a part of his character. Rhys accepts facts, truths, as negative and unfavorable as they may be, and finds ways to turn them in his favor or at least, to get the best of them that he can. This is something he can’t do now. Nesta telling Feyre the truth, hurting her ( even though I was glad that she did so finally ), was another painful reminder ( not that he’d forgotten ) to Rhys that he was useless, that he will lose everything, including his own life ( which he doesn’t care for in this case, anyways ). As wrong as it is, he was torn between telling the truth or sparing Feyre of the pain, up until he could no longer do so probably because he knows her too well, and knows that Feyre would die if it means their child lives. But in this case, Rhys is a realist and knows they would both die.

So, he was beyond pissed with not just Nesta, but I think with himself, with the whole circumstance and still, he had the tiny spark of reason to have Nesta go away before she became the outlet of his anger because I believe, deep down in that spark; he knew it’s not her fault. It’s his own. This is his tendency when it comes to anger, and this is fueled by that sense of insecurity and unworthiness, bundled up in how his entire life, he’s been forced to take up everything on his shoulders alone ( even if he has the IC and now Feyre, he still wants to protect/spare them of it all ). So this naturally makes that anger turn inward to the self and Nesta I believe in that moment, was a catalyst to that whole effect, and that logical part of him ( we know this is also another aspect of his character ) knows she is not to blame, and so had her removed before he did something he was gonna regret. Not to mention Rhys already held a grudge against her for still giving Feyre trouble after all his mate had to endure already. But that’s another subject.

And so to conclude this too long headcanon-ish thing, I think Rhys was well aware of the wrong he was doing in keeping the truth of the pregnancy from Feyre. But I wanted to expose my thoughts and take as a Rhys RPer, on why he acted this way despite the wrong. Do I personally like or support that he did so? I will continue to dislike it always but I will not erase it from his portrayal either just because I as the mun don’t like it. I am more than willing to write this or write different versions of the ACOSF things, be them good or bad. But I can piece together why he did what he did, as much as I dislike it.

Character development can be for the good or bad ( a character can develop into a villain as easy as they can develop into a savior or a hero ), and this is something that I think is important to remember. Am I saying that Rhys will become a villain? Of course not. But we must remember that as good a character he has been, he is also morally gray, and these aspects come out in these kinds of situations. Do we all have to like it? Of course not. It’s part of what makes a good series ( in my opinion ), how there are characters that inspire dislike/disapproval/resentment, etc., as much as they can inspire love and joy and admiration. Does that make my opinion/portrayal of him right, wrong, better or worse than others? Not at all. I believe the beauty of RP lies behind the many portrayals there are of the same characters and how they can lead to different outcomes and ideas. This whole situation with Rhys in ACOSF is an example of it.

But yes, even though I’m sure I’m forgetting things, this is long enough and if you read all the way down here, then you are amazing, and I thank you for taking precious time to do so!

#i didn't even format this ok it too long to do that and i am in a hurry xD #so probably it's not that greatly structured either but yeah i wanted to write it if only to focus my mind on something #other than.... anxiety inducing things that have been dealing with and is why i have been away these days #wanted to at least post something even if it not RP but yes hope it makes sense if anyone reads it cuz it long xDD #ooc; 𝐈𝐟 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐈 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐃𝐚𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢...#headcanons; 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐀𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬

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honey-baby-blossom · 2 years

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The Devil's Advocate - matt murdock

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

summary | Mai and Matt adjust to their new partnership that starts to be plagued by new fears and old memories

warnings | none!

word count | 2.6k words

notes | this one isn't all too exciting, but I'm excited for the possible directions my fictional babies could go in the future !! enjoy !!!

Matt was drawn awake in the early hours of the morning to the sound of hushed whispers. He had completely forgotten the girl in his living room as he jerked awake, trying to assess the possible danger in the apartment just to slump slightly in remembrance. Quickly, he recognized the bell-like voice, muffled by pillows and blankets, whispering in another language. His head cocked to the side as he heard the slowness of her heartbeat, signifying she was still asleep.

Carefully, he stepped out of his bed, kicking away the stained comforter he hated that took the place of his normal one which was draped lazily over his guest. His fingers reached out tentatively to find the sliding door, pushing it open further to get a better picture of the girl. In the darkness of his mind, he visualized the neon outline of her body. Her chest rising and falling steadily; her arm draped over her face, covered in a thin line of drool from her lips; her feet sticking out from underneath the blanket even though the blanket is big enough to cover her tiny frame three times over.

He couldn’t understand what she said, most of it sounding like incoherent mumbling even if he knew the language. With a small smile, he turned to get back into bed, only stopping when his name rang through the apartment. He frowned and listened for her heartbeat to signify consciousness, which it didn’t.

“Matt said I could stay,” she mumbled, her eyebrows coming together in a frown. He heard her breathing start to shake the way a startled infant would. “Don’t let them take me back, Matt.”

Matt’s chest felt hot like a star was burning through his lungs and tissue. He swallowed and nodded in the darkness, silently answering the question she would never know she asked. His skin felt hot as he stepped back to his bed, his fingers pushing the blankets further away since the warmth was bursting from inside him.

It took a long time for him to start falling asleep again. He liked the night and the quiet. Gave him time to think, finally. He decided he couldn’t let this go, or more aptly, let her go. The voice in the back of his mind that worried about the dangers she could present went silent long ago. Instead, it was replaced by curious questions for when she woke up. He decided she would stay in his life for as long as she wanted. He would help her start a new life. A safe one. Get her an apartment, a job. She could help at the office and Karen would go blind with excitement to have it not be such a sausage fest. He wouldn’t crowd her. He’d stay in the shadows, keeping a close eye while she lived in her newfound freedom.

Selfishly, Matt considered an alternative idea. He could redecorate the apartment, give her a room all to herself. She could live with him and take classes at the university, maybe. She wouldn’t have to worry about bills or work, he would handle all of it. All he’d ask for in return was the sight she gave him. Matt mentally scolded himself for even imagining it, using her in such a way. He shook off the idea as much as he could, trying to forget how soft her hands felt against his, how tiny her fingers were in comparison. It wasn’t just her gifts that he wanted to keep for himself, he thought.

No. That wasn’t going to happen. The very notion of a relationship blooming between the girl and himself sent a shudder down his spine. He thought of Elektra, how deafening her absent heartbeat was to him. He thought of Karen, how much fear she still lived in. It wouldn’t happen to Mai. She was asking him to keep her safe. Staying an arm’s length away was the only way to do that.

But unconsciously, Matt’s mind betrayed him in his sleep. He dreamed of her voice and her fingers dancing across his skin. The only sound that woke him from such a sweet dream was her voice, calling his name again.

Two months later.

Mai checked over her shoulder before opening the small door to the mailbox, the metal squeaking harshly before she even touched the handle. The stack of soft paper was rolled sloppily to fit inside and ripped at the edges when she tried pulling from the box. She let out a soft sigh and tucked it into the crook of her elbow before closing the door and locking it back with the key Matt gave her.

She flipped through the mail while walking up the dark stairway, her feet following muscle memory by now. When she reached the door, she pulled back out the set of two keys the man trusted her to have and unlocked the big heavy door. She smiled slightly, proud that she got it unlocked on the first try this time. The door was easily Mai’s biggest enemy in her new world, always fighting to stay tightly locked and protected. It eased her nerves a little at night when the anxieties caught in her throat. If I can’t open the damn thing with a key, there’s no way a criminal could without it, she would tell herself. But in Hell’s Kitchen, people were full of surprises. . . .

“I got the mail for you,” she announced into the apartment, sensing his presence before she could land her eyes on him. He stood in the living room, his shirt collar flipped up as he fixed his tie.

“Anything good?” he asked, his lips turning up into a small smirk.

“Not really. Just bills and the newspaper,” she answered, setting the thick stack of envelopes down to open up the thin folds of the New York Bulletin. Matt nodded and tightened his tie a little more, his neck twisting to get comfortable.

“You don’t normally leave that early,” he said, turning to face her as he flipped his collar back down. Mai looked up, mentally scolding herself for thinking he wouldn’t notice her sneaking out of the apartment before the sun even began to rise.

Early on into her stay with Matt, he noticed how much of a routine she needed. She woke up when the sun just barely reached over the trees and made tea. She would stretch and meditate then leave to explore the city. Mostly she was just exploring the park a couple of blocks away, but sometimes she would run errands. She moved like clockwork, leaving at the same time and coming home with the same cup of coffee Matt’s been drinking for a decade.

“You’re up earlier than normal, too,” she shrugged, avoiding his face. She didn’t want to admit to him the nightmares she’d started having again or how lucky she would be to get four hours of sleep on a regular night. She didn’t want him to worry like he used to. She hated making him worry.

Despite her best efforts, Matt knew everything. Even if he decided to ignore the way her heartbeat gave away her lies or how she’d started locking the door twice every night before bed, he still heard her voice while she slept. He was getting a little more familiar with the language, but he didn’t have to be to hear the absolute fear that plagued her mind while she slept. It started with whimpers a few weeks prior, then moved up to full crying that woke herself up.

Matt argued over whether or not to ask her about it. Finally, when he did, she told him about the nightmares but promised they were just silly things she’d had since she was a child. She apologized if she had disturbed his sleep (something Matt denied extensively) and told him they would go away soon, just like always. And to her credit, that was the last night she woke herself up in a panic. But it was the first night Matt nearly leaped out of his bed from the pounding noise ringing through his ears.

Her heartbeat sounded like a jackhammer next to his face, not eased by the loud, wheezing breaths that escaped her lungs. He couldn’t figure out how she could possibly sleep through it, or not hear it in her dreams. That insistent pa-thump pa-thump made Matt wish it was his hearing he lost in the accident instead of his sight. He could hear how tightly her fingers gripped the sheets and the tension grinding in her muscles. He wanted to wake her up, to brush his fingertips along the muscles of her back until she relaxed, and that deafening heartbeat went quiet again.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t cross the line. First, it would be comforting her out of her nightmares then holding her while she slept then sneaking kisses when he thought no one but God would be watching. So, he stayed in his bed, holding the pillow around his ears to muffle the noise until he fell back asleep.

“The silence woke me up,” he said, walking through the apartment to the kitchen. She noticed the space he put between them whenever he was showing care for her. If he mustered up the courage to say “I love you” to someone, it would be from across the planet, she thought with a small smile.

“I couldn’t sleep and got tired of laying around. I didn’t mean to wake you,” she said gently, making sure that nothing she said was technically a lie. Matt was quiet for a moment, tracing the edge of his coffee mug with his fingertip.

“I’m blind, not stupid, Mai,” he said finally, his voice low. He listened to the symphony of noises around him as closely as he could. Her drumming heartbeat seemed to quicken with every second, the softness of her breathing which remained steady (with conscious effort, he guessed); everything mixed lazily with the low mumbles of a waking city outside his window.

“I haven’t been loud again, have I?” she asked with a frown, trying to remember if she had heard the crying and screaming in her dreams again.

“Not like you used to be,” he answered, his eyebrows coming together in thought. “Look, I don’t know what it is that you’re afraid of. I could take a guess, but... I know you’re not sleeping and I’m not either, to tell you the truth.”

Mai chewed on the inside of her lip, the guilt and shame bleeding through her veins like poison. She wished she had told him the truth earlier, about being scared to leave his apartment, about being found by them, about losing any little control that she still held onto. He told her she couldn’t stay forever. And she agreed to let him set her up with her own life in the city. She helped at the office. She took her morning walks. Everything, but moving somewhere new. Without him.

“I’m...scared, Matt,” she finally said, the word burning on her tongue.

“Of what?” he asked as softly as he could, knowing how sensitive she tended to be to the tone of his voice.

“I don’t want...to leave. I-I like it here. I like...” She trailed off, looking across the apartment at the man. She couldn’t find the will to finish the sentence, to admit to the man how dependent on him she still was, or how much she enjoyed being near him. She noticed how his jaw clenched and felt grateful that she didn’t finish the sentence.

“That’s all it is?” he asked, his head tilting slightly in amusement. She only nodded in response.

“Basically, yes.”

“Sweetheart,” He smiled, stepping closer to her, “You can stay as long as you need to. I just wanted you to feel like you had all the freedom you could imagine.”

She felt her heart hammering against her chest and hoped that maybe he would attribute it to a different emotion, anything besides what was blossoming in the pit of her chest.

“I don’t want to be by myself. Not until I know they’re not coming. Plus, I just learned how to unlock the door,” she said, her thin lips twitching up into a smile. The man matched it, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“Then you’ll stay. I promise I don’t mind.”

“Okay.”

Matt listened to her heartbeat calm in her chest and her breathing returned to normal. The voice in his head panicked and ran over everything he said, double-checking for anything that crossed the line he was trying so hard not to touch. He could tell she wanted to say something more, but the sound of his phone echoing through the apartment cut her short. His head tilted to find the noise and answer the call, but as the sound bounced through his apartment, he felt her cool fingers place it into his hand.

“Thank you,” he mumbled quickly and answered, preparing himself for the verbal beating Foggy was about to lay on him.

“Please tell me you’re on your way and not passed out in an alley,” Foggy said, the humor and worry laced equally in his tone.

“We’re about to walk out the door. Got caught up in conversation is all,” Matt explained, his eyes twitching up slightly towards where he imagined the girl.

“Oh, okay. Well, don’t forget to grab the file on the Rose case. Karen’s got it in her head that she wants to organize everything we’ve ever done today,” Foggy sighed.

“Still waiting to find out if she can go back to The Bulletin?” Matt asked, his hand patting the back of the couch until he found his suit jacket.

“Uh-huh,” Foggy hummed in response. Matt smiled to himself and moved to pick up the file he mentioned.

“Take it easy on her. She’s foaming at the mouth to get back to investigating.”

“I know. I just wish she would investigate the case of how many times can she wear that same shirt this week- I'm on the phone!” Matt heard Karen’s sarcastic voice over the line, scolding Foggy for talking about her behind her back.

“I’ll be there with the file soon. Tell Karen to go for your bad shoulder,” He smiled against the phone, listening to the chirping laughter from the woman in the background of the call.

“Will do. Be careful,” Foggy laughed before hanging up the call. Matt’s smile remained as he tucked the phone into his pocket.

"My cane?" he spoke towards the girl, the remnants of the smile still lingering on his lips. She handed it to him quickly, always anticipating his needs. He gave a small smirk in her direction, his own way of saying "Thank you."

He tucked the cane and the file into the crook of his arm, reaching out with his other hand to find her. She held out her arm, letting his hand fall safely against the fabric of her sweater. Despite the slowly warming weather of the city, Mai always made sure she had most of her skin covered so she didn't surprise anyone who happened to bump into her on the street. Matt suggested gloves once, but she just blushed and made up something about not liking the feeling. Really, she just enjoyed having the constant option to show the man everything she saw, including him.

"Lead the way, ma'am," he said softly, his lips only a few inches away from her ear. She blushed and opened the heavy door for both her and the man holding onto her, making sure it was shut and locked securely before starting the walk towards the familiar office.

#daredevil #matt murdock #netflix daredevil #charlie cox #matt murdock x oc #daredevil x oc #marvel #daredevil fic #matt murdock fic #the devil's advocate

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wakeupfreanz · 3 years

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The Inner Child Speaks 🔑PAC Reading🔑

I swear I'm not really a pac kind of reader, but I will never ignore the call of the universe. Be advised that this reading might be emotional for some of you, choose a pile that resonates. Many blessings. None of the images are gender specific, truly pick whichever calls to you.

Pile 1: KnoW, 5oP, Justice, 7oC

Pile 2: PoC, 7oS, Death, KoW

Overall: AoP

Messages: Heart Chakra, "It's going to be okay", Overthinking.

"I feel like you shut me out sometimes." "I don't know if you like to hear me sometimes." This pile has a lot of strained feelings when it comes to connecting with themselves. Like you're trying to break off parts of yourself, ashamed of who you once were. There are probably some capricorn and pisces moons here. A lot of you are very quick to police and shut yourself up when it comes to expressing yourself. Like you didn't feel seen or heard so your first assumption is that nobody cares or wants to know, so you tend to just do the job yourself instead of be set up to feel hurt.

Your inner child is saying that it's okay for you to relax and chase things you like. This pile made me get really tear for you, because you tend to stomach so much and quietly carry your burdens without saying you need help. You'd collapse first without asking for help. Your inner child is telling you that we don't have to keep pushing and struggling through. We aren't climbing the mountain anymore. You're so worried that if we stop pushing forward that it's all going to fall apart, it doesn't make sense anymore. You're so scared of being betrayed that you have your defense and guard up constantly.

You might be a person of a more timid/quiet nature in truth, but you walk in the room and try to appear intimidating so nobody will mess with you. Your inner child is asking to be hear, stop trying to cut them away and detach yourself. Listen to them, understand them, hear them. They are you, they aren't a gum wrapped that's thrown away and never seen again. Your inner child is proud of who you are now and how far you've come, but it hurts them that you're trying so hard to forget that they ever existed.

Some of you in this pile might struggle with showing and receiving love and compassion. It feels like a lot of you might be the oldest in your family, you were made to be a caretaker before you knew how to take care of yourself.

Pile 1: 10oC, PoW, Moon, 5oS

Pile 2: Lovers, 7oC, 5oW, QoW

Overall: World rev

Messages: "It's going to be okay", "You hurt me", Overthinking.

There are some libra and aries placements in this pile. Your inner child is hurting when it comes to love and relationships. Almost as if you weren't given enough love or attention and it wounds you still today. Many of you may find yourselves overcompensating in all sorts of relationships because you believe that if you don't do enough they'll stop caring or loving you.

A good bunch of you in this pile when it comes to romantic relationships may find yourself trying to compensate for love you didn't receive in other relationships, especially in romantic. Partners to fill in parental roles, friends who will take care of you more than healthier platonic boundaries sometimes. Your inner child is telling you that the end of relationships isn't forever. Romantically, you can only bring yourself so much fulfillment in life. A good marriage isn't going to be the end of your life, you don't have to dedicate your entire being to someone because you feel like it could fix you. Your inner child and your past childhood tells me that you were very often confused. Some of you may have been very attached to some of your teachers in the past because they reflected or were similar to one of the caretakers in your life, or somewhat felt like they filled in the role of the one who could have been absent. Whether physically or emotionally.

Your inner child is asking you to stop fighting with them, stop fighting with others. It's hard to let go but what is yours will return to you and what must go should flow with the rest of time. Many of you in this pile may have more proclivity to emotional openness or being extroverted. You might be like the class clown or the funny friend. Your inner child is asking you to understand that there is so much more to life.

Pile 1: 10oC, WOF, KoP, 3oP

Pile 2: AoW, QoC, 8oP, 2oP

Overall: Star

Messages: Heart over Mind, Throat Chakra, Strength/Bravery

Those of you in this pile might struggle with headaches or migraines. Some of you might have a divorced family. Maybe some of you had parents of whom it felt as if you were the parent or had to handle much of the family business despite your youth.

Your inner child is asking you to speak to them. Many of you in this pile were often called "mature" for your age when you were younger. There is a lot of middle child energy. The independent one, the one that nobody had to worry about because they function very well independently. You often hold it together and walk along the fence easily through conflict. The problem is when it comes to you communicating how you feel to others, very strongly. You often feel like there truly might be no one that understands your problems or will listen long enough to get them.

You might feel as if you come off as monotone or boring, you often choose apathy as your coping mechanism because it's much easier for you not to feel much or look like you're feeling much from the outside. There are a couple of scorpio and gemini placements around here.

Your inner child is sending you much love and strength. They're saying that you won't end up like those around you and to stop worrying about it. You often might think or say to yourself "when i get married/have a family/get older, i wont be like them." Be reassured that you will not be. You are not doomed to the same fate that those around you are or might have done to themselves. Continue to work hard because you will make it. However your inner child is also telling you that you don't have to be so rigid and stick in the mud all the time. Please do not forget how to smile and enjoy yourself. Many of you might still have some bitterness and resentment for those who raised/were around you. Forgive them not just for them, but so you are open to receive that you are deserved. Blessings.

Some of you are much more like the father/dad friend rather than the mom friend. You often find strength in loyalty and taking care of those you deem worthy of it.

Pile 1: AoS, 9oP, 8oS, KnoS

Pile 2: KnoP rev, 9oP, KoS, AoW

Overall: 3oP

Messages: Identify, "It's going to be okay", Growth, Throat Chakra

"Please get to know me." Aquarius, Leo, and a few cancer placements here. Many of you in this pile might remember much of your childhood if at all, as if you've blocked it out of your memory consciously/unconsciously.

Some of you in this pile still feel like you're a kid at times, like you're not mature enough or equipped to handle anything in your life that happens. Like you're trapped on a merry go round and are forced just to go and watch what happens.

Your inner child is asking you to look back and understand who they are, who you are. You might have been so preoccupied with others that you might not have ever gotten the chance to really understand and develop your own identity. You might often find yourself spacing out and not noticing it, and generally avoid going through your emotions. So when they happen, they hit you like a freight train. Those closest to you might truly not know how to reach you because you're afraid of expressing yourself at all, even in private.

Many of you in this pile might struggle with self love and often bring yourself down. You might experience little bursts of enjoying yourself but they are generally very short lived. Your inner child is asking you to release your quietly pessimistic view on life and the world and be not afraid to explore it and try new things. Some of you in this pile are insanely intelligent but truly refuse to believe it. Some of you also may often argue with those who raised you. It's okay to not always know where to go or have a plan set out like everyone else. Stop being so hard on yourself.

Some of you also struggle with depression and may often take very long depression naps.

*TW for mentions of substance use and abuse in this pile.*

Pile 1: 3oS, Devil, PoP, 7oP

Pile 2: Fool, 10oW, AoC, 9oW

Overall: Star

Messages: Plan of Action, Shadow Side, Get Serious

I'm feeling strong leo placements for this pile. Some virgo placements too. For some of you, substance use/addiction might be in your family line. Some of you right now might use substances as a coping mechanism.

Some of you might have been or took witness to physical or emotional abuse in your youth in addition to this. Some of you here might have also been sickly as a child, constant colds, flu, fever, etc.

For many of you here, humor is also a big way for you to cope with some of the things that you experienced. You might not know how to stop joking, even when you're upset. Some of you struggle with bitterness toward the world and those around you.

Your inner child was not very talkative when I tapped into your energy. By nature you may be very introverted and quiet, some of you struggle with social anxiety and getting to know others.

Your inner child just wants to hug you and tell you that there is always a new day tomorrow. There is always a better place to go, a better place to be, better people to be around. There will be people who will teach you how to give and receive love, despite how painful it will be for you to unlearn old ideals imparted upon you. Many of you with traumas only speak of them to others who understand or have experienced similar things.

It will be hard to accept, but your inner child is asking you to reverse your self hatred and understand you are a gift to this world. There is beauty in life that will find you all around. Please be nicer to yourself. I'm sending a lot of love to this pile, you do not have to be the spokesperson or representative of everything you go through and have been through. Facing your shadow and understanding it is one step at a time, you are not broken person.

#pac reading #pick a pile #pick a card reading #kpop tarot #kpop readings #free tarot readings

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whump-a-la-mode · 3 years

Note

If you’re still doing bad things bingo, the on a leash prompt?

I am so sorry that this took forever. I was originally going to use this for Villainsicle, but I hope you enjoy this original drabble instead ^^

CW: Villain whumpee, sedation, death threats, vomit mention

Mad Scientist didn’t remember waking.

Of course, no one really remembers such things. Waking up is simply the last stage of sleep-- and during sleep cycles, memories are not stored. Thus, the exact moment in which the brain goes from unconsciousness to consciousness can be remembered as easily as one can remember what they were doing while fast asleep; which is to say not at all.

Yet, generally, once awoken from these last threads of sleep spindles, most remember what they do after waking up. And, for that matter, most remember what they were doing in the moments before sleep overtook them.

In that moment, Mad Scientist remembered neither.

They couldn’t say that the latter was exactly uncommon-- caffeine and late nights and bleary eyes were not exactly conducive to well-kept memories. But waking up? They should have remembered that.

And, they should have remembered how they ended up in such a place of sterile lights.

They blinked a few times, struggling and straining against the brightness. They were used to sterility, to the lights of a lab, sure, but this? It was like being on an operating table. It made their head throb horribly, and their teeth chatter moreso.

At last, their vision adjusted just enough to keep their eyes open, at least enough to scan the room. A skipping heartbeat accented the tightness growing in their throat, yet a certain fatigue remained, burrowed behind their eyes. It was that fatigue that was likely the only thing keeping them from screaming.

They had never been here before. This wasn’t home. They knew this wasn’t home and it wasn’t anywhere near home, not their lab not their bed not even their old clinic or anywhere they’d ever been, a lab an operating room any home they’d ever glimpsed-- they had never been here before. They hadn’t come here on their own.

They knew that. They knew nothing else, but they knew that.

The bright lights would have suggested them to be in a hospital room, and, in some senses, this place fit the bill. The floor was made of slick, laminated tile, while the walls were painted to look like white brick, though their texture betrayed that, underneath, they were nothing of the sort. Beyond that, however, nothing resembled a patient’s room.

For one thing, hospital rooms generally had beds.

They had hardly noticed just how long it had taken them to realize that, and when they finally did, they practically jumped, their heart skipping to their throat in time. Mad Scientist was not laid out on a bed, nor any piece of furnishing. Instead, they were simply on the tile floor. Their notice of this was accompanied by a sudden chill-- the floor was horribly cold below their hands and knees.

It was that realization that finally, finally, let panic take hold. Let the bursting heart in their chest explode from their throat.

They screamed.

Before, they could rationalize it. Before, they were in a hospital. Maybe they’d fallen, or had some kind of seizure in the night. Something they could explain. Something that would make sense.

This wasn’t a hospital.

Whatever it was, it was not a place they wanted to be.

There was a door on the other end of the room-- steel, but not visibly locked. Maybe it was just a huge misunderstanding and they’d explain it all away and- their thoughts were running far too fast, and their body far too slow. They rearranged their limbs until they were on their hands and knees, before attempting to rise to their feet, doing their best to ignore just how much they were shaking. It took a significant effort, but-

Something pulled them back down.

Limbs giving out again, they found themself practically sprawled to the floor. It took practically all the strength they could gather to raise a hand to their neck. The cold touch of their own fingers made them shiver, but it was nothing compared to the feeling of frigid metal, locked against their skin.

Whatever the object was, they couldn’t see it-- it was far up enough on their neck that looking down did nothing. Still, with shaking fingers, they approximated its shape.

A ring. A collar. It encircled their neck in its metal grasp. Though certain parts were smooth, most were not, instead covered in creases and raised pieces and tiny buttons. Technological. They could gather that much.

Whatever technology it contained, though, it was nothing compared to the simple thing holding them to the ground. Straining their arm as far as they could manage it, they touched the back of the collar, feeling the little metal loop that extended from it, and the similar loop that was attached. A leash. Attached to the wall, by the feel of it, though they couldn’t turn their head around enough to see. Their brain felt to be stuffed with cotton... or perhaps even made of it.

Their trembling hand fell from their neck, slamming to the ground.

For a moment, they lay. A peaceful, single moment. They thought they might even be able to slip back into rest.

Creeeeeak.

Mad Scientist tensed, hating how much they felt like a kicked dog. They gathered as much energy and effort as they possibly could, scrounging in the very bottom of their pool, but found only the ability to weakly lift their head. The rest of their body stayed on the floor like that, sprawled and limp.

The figure in the doorway wasn’t particularly large in stature, but from their angle on the floor, they appeared as a giant. Clacking footsteps brought them closer, until they were at their side, leaning down.

A broiling mixture of rage and fear mixed in Mad Scientist’s stomach.

They looked up to meet the figure’s face.

Hero. They felt about to puke.

Still, their anger did nothing to stop them from flinching as a hand was reached towards them. The touch on their chin was surprisingly gentle, though that didn’t change the fact that Hero was forcing it upwards, forcing their gazes to each other.

If they had the energy to, Mad Scientist would have spit right in their face. That’s what they told themself, anyways. Instead, they trembled.

“How does it feel?” The voice was a million miles away, and spoken from directly inside their head.

They wanted so fiercely to snap, to bark something back, but could only manage a simple:

“Mmm.”

“I bet. You should consider yourself lucky.” Hero grinned their stupid, crowd-pleasing grin. “Our usual protocol is a lot worse. Had this been a normal case, you’d be at an old farm upstate, right about now.” They laughed at their own joke. “But you, you are not a normal case.”

With surprising grace, Mad Scientist felt themself being laid back down onto the frigid tile.

“You have a lot to teach us.”

“No.” The word came out as a croak.

“They speak! I didn’t think you’d be doing that for a while-- our medics have some nasty stuff too, y’know.”

“Not... helping... you.”

Hero raised a brow.

“What made you think that it was a choice?”

#whump #whumpee #whumpblr #whump community #villain whumpee #hero villain whump #villain whump #powered whumpee #scientist whumpee #whump trope #whump prompt #bad things happen bingo

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xxdragonwriterxx · 3 years

Text

🔥I’m Sorry, Um..., Congratulations? 🔥

~~~

Levi had to admit, even with anger clouding his system, he was impressed by the determined look on the small doctor’s face as she stared him down, one hand on his chest as she held him back from the infirmary room where his lover had been taken after returning from an expedition. He could feel her trembling against him, her body betraying her nerves at the murderous look on his face, but her eyes were hard and unyielding as she stared right at him.

“She is fine Captain, she has just been pumped with a lot of sedatives and needs her rest. If you go in there, she won’t be able to talk to you.”

“I don’t care, I need to see her,” Levi growled, pushing harder against the hand that blocked him.

The doctor sighed when she saw the fiery look in his eyes. She was determined but she wasn’t heartless. She knew she would be able to work better on the young woman under her care if Humanity’s Strongest Soldier wasn’t watching her every move like a hawk, but she also knew that he was just scared for the person he loves the most. She could see it in his eyes, the desperation that was buried beneath the anger. He just needed to see that his wife was okay.

The doctor hesitated for one more moment before closing her eyes and nodding once, standing aside for him to pass. Levi wasted no time, quickly pushing into the room behind the doctor, only relaxing when he saw (Y/N) in the bed in front of him. He moved over to her bedside and slid down into the available chair, ignoring the doctor as she came in, grabbing a hold of (Y/N)’s hand and rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. She was alive, he could see the rise and fall of her chest under the sheets, but he still felt nervous. The sight of her paler than normal skin and the bandages wrapped around her arm and chest was making him feel light headed.

He hadn’t been there when she got hurt. He hated it, but as Squad Leaders, the two of them usually had to separate during missions, (Y/N) leading her squad while Levi ran his, working to save as many people as possible whenever the missions went awry. He knew she was very capable, knew that if he ever suggested she back down as a Squad Leader to be in his own squad or stay home while he went off to fight that he would probably lose a limb. He couldn’t stop her from saving people and fighting for a better world, but he hated that he couldn’t always be there to save her.

Her squad had told him what happened when he found her in the medical cart on the way back to the walls. Apparently, an abnormal had lunged for one of her squad members when they had been busy slicing the nape of another titan. She had propelled herself into the titan’s hand, which had knocked it away from the soldier, allowing him time to escape, but had crushed her own gear to her side in the process, breaking her ribs and spraining one of her arms. The injuries had been further bolstered by her being thrown into a tree, knocking her unconscious on impact.

Levi sighed and squeezed her hand. She could occasionally be so reckless that sometimes he wanted to thump her over the head. Maybe even tie her to a chair if it kept her out of trouble. Levi chuckled quietly to himself as he pictured the fury she would bestow upon him if he ever told her to stay home like a good housewife. He figured he’d be safer in a horde of abnormals. She was such a little spitfire, but she was his spitfire, and as he looked at her prone form lying motionless in the bed, he knew he wouldn’t have her any other way. He was just grateful that she was still here with him after pulling that stunt.

The doctor took a few notes as she lifted the sheets, checking (Y/N)’s injuries before clicking her tongue and leaving the room, probably to get more supplies. This gave Levi the chance to place a soft kiss on (Y/N)’s hand, running his lips softly along her palm as he savored the warmth that met his lips. No matter how long they had been together, Levi still felt embarrassed about showing her a lot of affection in front of others, usually only going so far as holding her hand. With the doctor gone, he gave himself the luxury of showering her with small butterfly kisses, revealing how much he loved her and how worried he was for her. Finally leaning back in his chair, Levi brought (Y/N)’s hand away from his mouth and settled back with a sigh, content to wait for her to wake up, giving her hand another comforting squeeze.

Levi had just been about to close his eyes when he was surprised by the feeling of his hand being squeezed back. Levi immediately jolted in his seat and glanced over to his wife’s face to see her features scrunched up as she fought her way back into consciousness. Levi leaned over her, his other hand joining the first to hold her hand to his chest as he watched her eyelids flutter.

“Come on, (Y/N), open your eyes, baby,” Levi murmured.

The doctor came back in as (Y/N) let out a groan, the petite woman brightening at the sight of her patient waking back up. Moving to her other side, the doctor began to check her vitals as (Y/N)’s eyes blinked open, her (e/c) hues roving around the room in an attempt to focus on something.

Levi watched her eyes clear as she woke up completely, a small smile curling the corners of his mouth at the sight of the recognition in her eyes when she saw him.

“Levi…,” (Y/N) sighed.

“Hey, baby,” Levi murmured, using one hand to brush the hair out of her eyes. “How do you feel?”

“Like shit,” (Y/N) said with another soft groan.

The doctor chuckled at (Y/N)’s response as she looked her patient over, carefully running her hands over her chest and sides. “You should, you took quite the hit,” she said.

“Really? What happened?” (Y/N) asked, leaning on Levi as he helped her sit up.

“You saved one of your squad members by taking a hit from a titan yourself,” Levi answered, his gruff tone making (Y/N) wince. She knew that tone, it was the tone he used whenever she managed to get injured on an expedition. It was a tone that both warmed her heart and sent a chill down her spine. She knew it just meant that he was worried about her, which was what made her heart warm, but she also knew it was a warning.

“Oh yeah…,” (Y/N) said, gently rubbing the ribs along her right side. “Are my ribs broken?”

“Yes, three of them, but your arm is only sprained. I’ve set your ribs and wrapped them so you should be fine aside from some soreness. You can’t do too much though, or you’ll risk fracturing them. You will need to take a break for awhile if you want to heal as fast as possible, so don’t even think about training, even with a lessened training regiment,” her doctor ordered.

(Y/N) hung her head in disappointment but nodded, her hair curtaining her expression.

“I’ll have your arm in this sling for a little bit, but after a few days you should be fine to take it off, alright? Just don’t do too much physical activity or you’ll make your entire body worse, alright?”

(Y/N) nodded again but lifted her head. “Thank you, Doctor…?”

“Santiago. Doctor Santiago, but you can call me Rosita.”

“Thank you, Rosita,” (Y/N) finished. “I appreciate all of the stuff you’ve done to help me.”

“Oh it’s nothing,” Rosita said with a wave. “It is my job, but you do so much for the good of humanity, the least I can do is patch you up after the fight.”

“Well thank you. I appreciate your consideration for my desire to get back in the field as quickly as possible.”

Levi grumbled something (Y/N) chose not to hear and flashed a warm smile at the suddenly bashful doctor, the small young woman wringing her hands in front of her while a pretty blush stole across her cheeks.

“Well actually, I meant to thank you,” Rosita said, still not looking at (Y/N). “The man you saved today, the one on your squad, is actually my older brother, Nico. When I heard what you did and how you got hurt, I knew I had to treat you and do it in the best way possible, in return for saving him. He’s all I have left, we lost the rest of our family when the titans broke through the wall, so I can’t thank you enough for keeping him safe for me.”

(Y/N) and Levi both exchanged looks of shock, but quickly shook it off. (Y/N) smiled even more at the doctor and quickly gave her a hug, ignoring her squeak of surprise when she brought her into her arms.

“I’m glad I could save him too. That’s why I do this job, to bring people back home to their friends and family,” (Y/N) said before releasing Rosita, smirking when the girl still looked dumbfounded at the idea of one of the most powerful Squad Leaders in the Survey Corps giving her a hug. She finally collected herself and busied herself with analyzing the data on her clipboard, turning her back to them.

“I’m glad he’s okay too but you need to stop getting yourself hurt,” Levi scolded, frowning at the smile his wife threw at him.

“Well what’s the fun in that?”

“(Y/N)...,” Levi said in warning.

(Y/N) giggled at the dark tone in his voice and leaned up to kiss him, fighting the urge to wince as she strained the muscles along her sides. Levi kissed her back with a roll of his eyes and gently stroked her uninjured arm, his fingers causing sparks to flicker along her skin. When they parted, Levi’s eyes were molten, the hot steel in them making her shudder.

“Just be more careful, brat. I can’t lose you.”

(Y/N) softened at his words and gave him another soft peck before Rosita turned back around to face them, Levi quickly moving back into his chair as if he hadn’t just been snuggling up to his wife. Rosita eyed them with a tiny smile on her lips but didn’t comment.

“Well, I’ve got the results for your tests and I’ve checked you over a few times and it seems like you will be able to be discharged later tonight. You were lucky, you broke a few bones, but you didn’t have any signs of internal bleeding and you’re both still relatively healthy with limited long term effects. I’m actually surprised that you were even out on that expedition considering your condition, things could’ve been significantly worse, and if you weren’t careful, you could’ve killed either yourself or the baby. If I were you, I’d start thinking about laying off the expeditions and focus on working from home until it’s safe for you to go back out on the field.”

Rosita looked up from where she had been reading off of her clipboard when she was met with silence, her eyes widening at the shocked expressions on both of their faces. (Y/N)’s jaw had dropped, her eyes wide and her chest heaving as she placed a hand over her stomach in surprise. Levi had gotten significantly paler, the color draining from his face to where he looked as white as a sheet, his eyes nearly bulging out of his skull as he stared at the ground, his lips slightly parted. It took Rosita a moment, but suddenly it hit her.

Rosita brought her hands up to her face, covering her mouth with her overlapping palms as guilt and shock flowed through her system like an electric current.

“Oh my gods, did.., did you not know?”

(Y/N) shook her head woodenly and Rosita paled, rivalling Levi’s lack of color as dread flooded her.

“I am so sorry! I thought you knew! I- oh gods…,” Rosita stumbled over her words, her eyes wide as she paced the room, trying to escape the situation by doing something, anything. Unfortunately, her frazzled brain didn’t give her time to think and she quickly took her leave with a mumbled excuse, slamming the door shut behind her in her haste to leave. Silence filled the room, the young couple frozen in shock as the doctor’s words replayed in their minds like a broken record.

(Y/N) glanced down at her stomach, running her palm over the still flat surface. She had noticed the signs, the slight increase in her weight, the fact that she vomited her guts up every morning, the dizzy feeling she would get when she worked her normally easy exercise routine. But all of these things she had dismissed as being overworked. She knew she was prone to working herself to the bone, often getting chastised by her amazing husband for forcing herself to do too much. The vomiting, the nausea, the weight change, those were all things she had experienced already whenever she worked too hard, the lack of sleep causing the dizziness, the inconsistent diet causing the weight change, and the migraines causing the vomiting. She had never even thought about the possibility of being pregnant, even though it made sense. She realized she had missed her last period, but she had been so busy she had failed to notice it, only focused on the upcoming expedition and preparing herself for the danger that would come with it.

Fear struck her heart then. The expedition. She had gone on the expedition with a baby in her belly, and had gotten hurt, would’ve died if it weren’t for her last minute efforts to make the fall less painful as she slammed into the tree, or the wonderful doctor that had healed her. She knew she had just been told the baby was alive and healthy, but what would she have done if it wasn’t? What would Levi have done? The thought made her close her eyes.

Levi was right beside her and still hadn’t said a word. What was she going to say to him? Would he believe her if she told him she hadn’t known when going out to fight? She was almost too afraid to look at his face, to see the fury and condemnation in his eyes. They had never talked about children, the two of them too worried about wiping out the titans and saving humanity to worry about a family. (Y/N) knew she wanted this, had always wanted kids especially when she got together with Levi, but the titans were still roaming the world. How would he react to having a baby thrown into the mix of chaos that already weighed heavily on both of their shoulders?

(Y/N) knew she had to face this. This was the man she loved more than anything. They had been together for years, even before they were dating, their friendship lasting strong since the day they met when Levi was forced to the surface with Isabel and Farlan. They could figure this out, would figure this out, together.

Opening her eyes, (Y/N) gathered what little courage she had left and turned to Levi, her mouth open to speak when she froze. Levi was crying. The tiny teardrops sparkled in the light of the hospital room as they slid down his cheeks, cutting trails down his perfect skin. He had regained some of his color and his eyes had narrowed back to their normal size, but the hues themselves were shining with emotion.

The sight was overwhelming. Levi had never shown this much emotion, even with her. The only other time she had ever seen him like this had been the night of their wedding when they were back in their room alone, a similar expression on his face as he made love to her for the first time as husband and wife, his eyes shining with emotion in a way that made her heart stop.

He turned to look at her and she felt herself break, tears welling in her own eyes to stream down her face. Her heart was pounding, threatening to burst from her chest as she met his intense stare.

“Levi- mppffhh!”

(Y/N) was cut off by Levi’s lips on hers, the passion and love that was being conveyed through the kiss making her feel light headed as her breath was stolen away. Levi was kissing her like the world was about to end, his tongue insistent as it mapped her mouth, his teeth biting and pulling at her lips almost feverishly. (Y/N) could do nothing more than whimper and moan into his mouth, her hands flying to grip his biceps and hold on for dear life.

They were both huffing and panting when they broke apart, (Y/N)’s whole world spinning in the aftermath of his soul searing kiss. Her eyes searched his, trying desperately to see what she hoped to see in his gaze. She thought his kiss was clear enough on how he felt, but she needed to see it. She needed to know that what he was telling her was true, needed to read it directly from his gunmetal eyes like she did every time she needed to know the truth from him. Years together had taught her how to read Levi like a book, her favorite book, so she would know his true feelings if she just met his gaze.

Levi didn’t shy away from her when she leaned closer to peer into his eyes, her hues flickering back and forth across his face desperately. Levi smiled and kissed her again, less aggressively this time, but no less passionate. (Y/N) slumped against him, her eyes fluttering closed until he broke away again. Leaning their foreheads against one another, Levi held her close, his hand tangling in her soft (h/c) locks.

“(Y/N), thank you,” Levi murmured. “I never thought I’d ever get this. Thank you so much.”

(Y/N) beamed at his sentiment, initiating her own quick kiss with him, relieved he wasn’t rejecting her or the new little life they had created together. “I love you, Levi.”

“I love you so much, (Y/N)” Levi whispered, pecking her lips again before leaning back, his eyes shining with the love he usually kept shuttered away. The sight made (Y/N)’s heart melt, her own eyes reflecting the love right back at him.

“I am so sorry, I really wasn’t aware you didn’t know,” Rosita said, the couple jumping away from each other in surprise, the pair having been so absorbed in each other they hadn’t noticed the bashful young woman come back in.

“Oh it’s okay!” (Y/N) said brightly. “You didn’t know, and we would’ve found out eventually, right? We just found out a little sooner, that’s all!”

Rosita was still mortified, but she seemed to relax a little at (Y/N)’s words, her hands wringing in front of her again as she faced the two captains.

“Well, I ran the results by one of my colleagues to be sure, but it looks like both you and your little one are just fine. You will be discharged tonight with an updated training schedule so you can remain active without putting yourself and your baby in danger. I’m sorry again, and um…., congratulations?”

(Y/N) chuckled and smiled at the doctor. “Thank you so much, Rosita. For everything.”

Rosita nodded and quickly took her leave again after grabbing a few things from the room, heading off to file the proper paperwork and bury herself in her embarrassment.

Levi smirked at the door Rosita had just scrambled through. He would have to find some way to thank her and let her know everything was fine, but for now, he had other things to worry about. Looking down at his wife, Levi couldn’t help the smile that crept along his features. They were going to have a baby. They were going to be a family. He had never in his life expected to have one of those. In the beginning, he had always assumed he was destined to be alone, the world always taking away the ones he loved most. But then (Y/N) had burst into his life like a firecracker, throwing his carefully structured world out of whack and destroying the walls around his heart in the same (Y/N) style fashion, never shying from his cold personality and laughing at his sarcastic shit jokes.

After they were married, he always expected to wake up and have it all be a dream. Everything had felt so surreal and yet he had never been so happy. This gave him the same feeling. He felt like he was floating, like he was going to wake up any minute now to find (Y/N) curled up against him in bed. But he knew he wouldn’t. This was reality, his reality. He was going to have a family and he had the stunning woman in front of him to thank for it.

His eyes hardened when he looked at the bandages wrapped around her body. He knew (Y/N) had had no idea she was pregnant when she rode out on the charge earlier that day, but Rosita was right. Something could’ve gone worse, and he could’ve lost one or both of the lights in his life. He knew (Y/N) was not going to be happy about being left behind, but he needed now more than ever to protect her. She was the diamond in a cave of stones, and he wasn’t going to give her up for anything.

He needed to kill all of the titans so his family could live and grow up in a world without the fear of being eaten. He wanted his child to be able to laugh and smile and enjoy life without the constant threat of death, without the fear that one or both of their parents might not come back for them. He grit his teeth and clenched his fist subconsciously as he dared anyone to even try to take his family from him, or him from his family. He was determined to give them the best life he could possibly give them, no matter what, and even though he would die for them if necessary, he wanted to be a part of it. Even if he was afraid of his possible lack of skills as a father, never really having had a proper role model to show him how it was done, he would try everyday to be his best for them.

A warm hand on his cheek snapped him out of his thoughts, and he turned to see (Y/N) watching him, a concerned look on her face. His own hand came up to rest over hers, his eyes closing while he nuzzled into her palm.

“You’re overthinking this. I can see it in your face,” (Y/N) said, snickering at the half-hearted glare he threw her. “We are having a baby, Levi, and I am here with you. You will not have to do this alone.”

“I’m here too, (Y/N). I promise I will be here every step of the way, and I will protect you with my life. So please, promise me you won’t do anything stupid during this pregnancy?”

(Y/N) smiled and leaned up to peck his lips lovingly.

“I promise, I won’t. I love you, Levi.”

“I love you too, (Y/N),” Levi said as he gently moved her to the side and slid into the bed with her, curling his body around her protectively. (Y/N) sighed and pushed herself against him, feeling her eyes droop as his warm presence lulled her to sleep, her hands laying lovingly over the child that rested in her belly as the soon to be new parents basked in the glow of their newest surprise.

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