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lizzyiii · 2 months ago

Text

His Darling (3)

pairing | loki x fem!reader

word count | 5k words

taglist | if you'd like to be added to the taglist just add your username to this DOC

summary | you and loki have a one on one, and suddenly strange dreams seem to find you, ones of a mysterious man and a different time

note | language, violence

a/n | i really enjoyed writing this chapter. Also bare in mind I'm writing literally from the show, merely adding a character insert, so if you don't like the way certain characters are written cough (sylvie) cough, just know that this is directly from the show.

likes, comments and reblogs are much appreciated ✨

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜs ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ - ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ - ɴᴇxᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ

“May I see your hands?”

Your gaze snapped to Loki, his tone unexpectedly serious against the backdrop of the ship’s creaking timbers. After hours of searching and navigating through chicago, you had miraculously pinpointed Victor's coordinates.

The relief of discovery was dulled by the exhaustion weighing heavily on your limbs as you leaned against the deck, the salty sea air doing little to revive your spirits.

With a weary sigh, you extended your hands to him, your fingers trembling slightly. The light scrapes from when you’d climbed out of the lake were still evident, reminders of how chaotic the day had become.

Loki took your hands in his, his grip warm and surprisingly comforting. A soft green light enveloped your wounds as he concentrated, his magic flowing into you like a gentle tide, soothing the rawness and stinging pain.

You could feel his energy mingling with yours, But when you finally pulled your hands away, the familiar throb of a migraine surged back, sharper than before, as if reminding you that the fight wasn’t over.

“I want to go home,” you murmured, the fatigue clear in your voice. The longing for the simplicity of your life back in your world.

Loki’s voice, laced with guilt, followed you. “I think perhaps we should have let you stay at the TVA.”

You snorted, shaking your head incredulously. “You think?” The sarcasm dripped from your words, a defense mechanism honed by endless encounters with chaos. The ship swayed gently beneath your feet, the rhythmic lapping of waves a distant echo to the turmoil swirling in your mind.

“Sorry,” you muttered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the waves lapping against the ship. “I turn into quite the bitch when I’m tired and overstimulated.” It wasn’t an apology so much as a self-deprecating admission, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

Loki, leaning casually against the railing, tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly but not in a judgmental way.

There was something understanding in his gaze, something softer than you’d expect from a god who had wreaked havoc across the universe. “Understandable,” he replied, his voice smooth, tinged with an odd empathy. “This situation is... a lot.”

You let out a short, humorless laugh, brushing a hand through your disheveled hair. “That’s the understatement of the century. But no—being patient is important. Nobody wants to be around a bitch the entire time.”

Loki’s eyes never left you, his expression shifting to something you couldn’t quite read. It wasn’t pity, but something... tender? “That’s an interesting perspective,” he said slowly, as if he were weighing each word.

The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a warm golden light across the ship's deck, the early rays glinting off the water like diamonds.

You raised a brow, unwilling to let the mood get too heavy. “What, you expected me to be a diva all the time?” Your voice was light, but your exhaustion was starting to catch up with you.

He tilted his head, studying you with that infuriatingly calm gaze. “No, I didn’t. But there’s something admirable about how you handle everything.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes. “Well, I’m not sure ‘admirable’ is the right word. Barely keeping it together is more accurate.” You shifted slightly, trying to keep the conversation flowing so you wouldn’t collapse from sheer exhaustion. “Did you enjoy my concert?”

A small smile tugged at his lips, though it was more subdued than you expected. “I’ve never been to one before,” he admitted, as though the idea of thousands of Midgardians screaming and jumping to music was a foreign concept to him. “I enjoyed the part where I listened to you sing. Not so much the part being surrounded by sweaty, screaming mortals.”

That brought a soft laugh from you, the corners of your mouth lifting. “Sounds about right. Though, at least you made it through.”

He paused, as if considering whether to admit something. “I enjoyed the first song the most.”

Your smile softened as you looked away for a moment. “That one’s special,” you said quietly. “It was the first song I ever wrote. Always had a place in my heart.”

Loki watched you with interest, his gaze growing more intent. “What is it about?”

You hesitated, feeling a sudden wave of embarrassment. It wasn’t exactly casual small talk material. “It’s a bit heavy,” you confessed, turning your gaze back to him with a sheepish smile. “Not exactly the sort of thing you talk about with someone you’ve known for all of... what? A few hours?”

He seemed almost amused by your reluctance, though he kept his expression neutral. “I’ve lived for centuries, Darling,” he said, that familiar mischief flickering in his eyes. “A few hours is more than enough time.”

You smirked, not letting him get the upper hand. “I’ll tell you when we’ve known each other for a day,” you teased, the smile in your voice clear as day.

Loki opened his mouth to respond, but stopped short as a genuine smile crept onto his face. “A full day, hmm? I’ll hold you to that.”

You couldn't help yourself. Curiosity gnawed at you, and despite knowing it might be stepping on thin ice, you asked anyway. “So, what’s the deal with you and Sylvie?” The question slipped out, your voice intentionally light, but the underlying edge of suspicion was hard to miss.

Loki’s features tightened slightly, his blue eyes narrowing, a hint of confusion crossing his face. “What deal? There is no deal,” he replied, though the defensiveness in his tone was obvious.

You tilted your head, a skeptical look crossing your face as you watched him closely. “Really?” you asked, dragging out the word a little too pointedly.

“Because from where I was standing—in the middle of all that chaos—it sure seemed like there was a lot of tension in that Ferris wheel compartment before I got blasted out of it.”

Loki’s jaw tensed, and though he tried to remain composed, you caught it—just the faintest flicker of something in his eyes. Unease? Hesitation? He quickly masked it with his usual cool demeanor, but it was too late.

Loki sighed, clearly trying to steer the conversation away from dangerous waters. “It’s complicated,” he muttered, his voice lower now, avoiding your gaze.

You tilted your head further, watching him closely. “It always is, isn’t it?” you said, but this time, there was no bite to your words. Just curiosity....

Mobius plopped down beside you, his usual easy-going nature in full swing as he chimed in with a casual tone, “Loki and Sylvie? Yeah, that’s a bit of a complicated relationship.” He said it as if it were the most natural thing in the world, but the moment the words left his mouth, your jaw dropped in disbelief.

“Sorry—what?” Your eyes widened, your shock almost comical. “That’s new,” you blurted out, your voice tight with a mix of surprise and discomfort.

An awkward laugh escaped your lips as you pressed them into a thin smile, your mind racing to process the information.

“You know, I actually don’t think I needed to know that,” you muttered, feeling a strange, unfamiliar twist in your gut, like you’d just uncovered something you weren’t quite sure how to feel about.

“We’re not in a relationship,” Loki cut in quickly, his voice sharp with irritation. He shot Mobius an exasperated look, his brows pulling together in a tight line. Clearly, this was not the kind of conversation he wanted to have.

“Really?” You cocked your head, eyeing him with suspicion. “And here I was thinking it was some sort of weird emotional sibling dynamic,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood, though deep down, there was a flicker of something more—a hint of unease. “My bad.”

Loki’s lips twitched in frustration, but he said nothing. His silence was louder than words, though, and you couldn’t help but feel the weight of the unspoken tension between the two of them.

“Seriously, what in the Targaryen is this then?” you joked, your voice laced with playful sarcasm as you tried to brush off the awkwardness. But the joke landed heavier than you intended, a bitter edge clinging to it.

Mobius frowned, genuinely confused. “What’s a Targaryen?”

You blinked at him, momentarily taken aback by the confusion in his voice. “It’s just… a family with dragons,” you said, waving it off with a strained smile.

Even as you laughed it off, that strange, restless feeling refused to let go—a tug at the back of your mind. There was something about Loki that lingered, something you weren’t quite ready to confront.

You glanced at him, bathed in the warm morning light, his figure outlined in shades of gold that almost made him look like a figure from legend. He was every bit the god people whispered about, with that noble bearing and gaze that seemed to hold lifetimes of secrets.

You tried to brush it off as a simple infatuation, because he was indeed, an attractive man. You’d had a hundred fleeting crushes before; surely this was just another. Tomorrow, this feeling would be gone. At least, that’s what you told yourself as you shifted slightly, resting your head on your arms, eyelids growing heavy until, finally, sleep pulled you under.

Dreams swept over you like a thick fog, but they felt different somehow, as if they belonged to another time, another life. You could hear voices, though the faces remained hidden in shadow.

“Where have you been?” The male voice was vaguely familiar, the tone edging on impatience.

“With your mother,” came your own voice, though you couldn’t remember the conversation. You sounded brighter—full of some distant energy.

“Why?” the voice asked, confused.

“Oh, I always have tea with the Queen,” you answered, your tone filled with cheekiness. “We discuss the usual: my magic, how I’m becoming a brilliant young lady, and, of course, how I’m the daughter she never had.”

A scoff followed. “You exaggerate.”

“I don’t, I swear, darling,” you teased back, the fondness in your words almost startling. It felt as if you knew this person deeply.

There was a pause, then a serious tone, “There’s something I need to tell you.”

“What?” you asked, your tone dropping, sensing the shift.

“A betrothal,” he said, his voice heavy with something that almost sounded like hesitance.

Before the words could settle, a gentle hand shook your shoulder, pulling you back to the present. You blinked your eyes open, and Mobius was looking at you with a small smile. “D, rise and shine. Time to wake up.”

You pushed yourself upright, the fragments of the dream still lingering in your mind, leaving you with a curious, aching feeling you couldn’t place.

The rocking of the ship had only just faded from your bones when a new, sharper pain made itself known—a pounding in your head that felt as though it clawed its way from the inside out.

Even as you reached Timely’s warehouse, the pain seemed to twist and deepen, coursing through every part of you until you could hardly hear Mobius and Loki’s voices over the waves of it.

Your feet slowed as they moved ahead, and you tried to catch your breath, gripping the cold wall to ground yourself. It wasn’t a typical headache; it was as if something within you was desperate to be unleashed, like a rising tide threatening to burst through the dam.

No amount of focus seemed to hold it back, and by the time you forced yourself inside the warehouse, Renslayer had Timely in her sights, weapon drawn.

“Move any closer, and he’s done,” Renslayer warned, her voice tense.

Your vision blurred as Mobius spoke, “Stop, Ravonna. Is this the free will you wanted? Look at me. You’ve lost your way.”

But even his words became muffled under the weight of the migraine, a storm that was building into something relentless. Each heartbeat seemed to pulse through you like a wave of energy, and the ache surged, making your knees buckle slightly.

You clutched at your head, but the pain within you didn’t stop—if anything, it was only growing.

You barely registered the blast that knocked you and everyone else off their feet, the impact ringing in your ears. When you lifted your head, Sylvie had appeared, stepping toward Timely with her machete drawn. She looked ready to finish him, but just as she raised her arm, the pain in your head hit its peak—a final burst of energy that clawed its way to the surface.

You couldn’t hold it back any longer. A sharp groan escaped your lips, and everyone’s eyes snapped toward you. Loki’s face was a mix of confusion and concern, his gaze fixed on you as he called out, “Darling?”

But you could barely hear him as the power overwhelmed you, ripping free in a yell that echoed through the warehouse. A pulse of energy exploded outward from you, shattering the windows and sending everyone crashing to the floor.

And as the last of the energy left you, darkness crept in, and you felt yourself slip into unconsciousness, the echo of Loki’s voice the last thing you heard.

When the energy had dissipated, Loki rushed to your side, his gaze wide with alarm as he knelt down and gently lifted you into his arms. His expression softened, worry etched deeply into his features as he brushed a few stray strands of hair from your face, clearly shaken by what he’d just witnessed.

Before he could fully process, Victor Timely’s voice shattered the moment. He was facing down Sylvie, her machete leveled dangerously at his throat.

“Get him out of here,” she finally ordered, her voice hard, though her eyes flickered with a mix of hesitation and resolve.

Mobius didn’t need further prompting; he opened a time door nearby, his face unreadable as he took in your still form cradled in Loki’s arms. He and Loki exchanged a look—an understanding, a silent agreement—and without another word, Mobius gestured for them to go through.

With careful movements, Loki lifted you fully into his arms, feeling the weight of your limp form against him. The surge of energy you’d released—it was unmistakable. You had magic, and not just any magic. It was powerful, raw, and brimming with something he hadn’t seen in quite some time.

Together, with Timely, Mobius, and you still unconscious in his arms, Loki stepped through the time door and back into the TVA.

In the depths of your dream, that same familiar voice echoed softly, stirring something warm and distant within you.

“What would I do without you, darling?” he said, his tone playful, yet laced with something deeper.

You smirked, even in your dream, responding with that familiar sassy charm, “Die, most likely. A thousand deaths, I suppose.”

The man’s laugh was rich and smooth, almost like a melody, and it filled you with a feeling of comfort you couldn’t quite place. You felt yourself smiling, savoring the warmth of that laugh, before it all began to slip away, consciousness pulling you back to the present.

Slowly, you blinked awake, the dim lighting and metallic surroundings of the TVA coming into focus. A throbbing ache pulsed at your temples as your vision cleared, and soon you found yourself gazing up into the concerned faces of Mobius and Loki. Both looked a mix of worried and… perhaps relieved?

“What happened?” you murmured, frowning as the remnants of your dream slipped away.

“You released an extraordinary magical energy,” Loki replied, his hand steady on your shoulder as he helped you sit up. His gaze was searching, as though trying to decipher something he didn’t quite understand yet.

You frowned, rubbing at your temple, piecing together flashes of the confrontation with Renslayer. “I’m sure that was Sylvie’s doing,” you said slowly, though doubt flickered in the back of your mind. It was like trying to recall something half-forgotten yet seared into your bones.

Mobius shook his head, clicking his tongue thoughtfully. “The first blast? Yeah, that was Sylvie. But the second… well, that was all you.”

You blinked, trying to process that, and as you did, Loki’s intense gaze bore into you, his blue eyes filled with a quiet certainty. “Which means…” He paused, his voice lowering, “…you’re not entirely human.”

You pursed your lips, looking down as you mulled over your next words. “I kind of… more or less knew that,” you admitted, the weight of those words feeling heavier than expected.

Mobius snapped his fingers in front of your face, breaking the silence as both men leaned in, their expressions sharp with curiosity. “Normalize explaining, please,” he pressed, quirking a brow.

You rolled your eyes, pushing yourself off the table to stand, trying to avoid their expectant gazes. But the moment you tried to balance yourself, a wave of dizziness crashed over you.

Your vision blurred, and you swayed, feeling yourself start to fall. Just as quickly, Loki’s arm wrapped around you, steadying you and guiding you gently back onto the table.

“Easy now,” he murmured, his tone soft but firm, his hand lingering at your back as you steadied yourself.

Clearing your throat, you gave a small shrug, not quite meeting their eyes. “When I escaped the TVA and got to Earth, I tried one of those heritage tests a year later, just for fun… thought maybe I’d get some clarity on where I come from.”

Mobius’ eyebrows shot up, and he tilted his head. “Hold on—so you knew we weren’t just TVA-made creations?” His tone was incredulous.

“Sort of figured that out,” you replied with a deadpan expression, “when I got Mark from HR as my Uber driver once.”

Mobius snorted, while Loki’s gaze grew more intent, his eyes narrowing slightly. You cleared your throat again, bracing yourself.

“When I did the test, though, it came back… strange. No human DNA, not even close.” You leaned back, giving a wry smile. “And trust me, I had to pay a small fortune to keep the doctors from going public with that little revelation.”

You noticed the surprised glances exchanged between Mobius and Loki, but you waved them off dismissively, smacking your lips as you shifted the conversation. “So, is Timely dead?”

Mobius furrowed his brow in response, shaking his head. “Nope, he’s inside with OB.”

Feeling a surge of determination, you tried standing again. This time, your legs cooperated, and you found your footing. “Well, gentlemen, I do think I should be there then.”

After a quick change out of the uncomfortable corset gown into something far more practical—a tight-fitting black cotton skirt paired with a delicate, patterned top—you joined the two men. The familiar fabric felt comforting against your skin, a welcome change that allowed you to breathe easier. Together, the three of you made your way back to OB's lab, your heart racing with anticipation.

As you entered, Loki wasted no time, calling out, “OB, how’s it going?”

“Uh, we have a… we have a good plan,” OB stammered, a hint of nervous energy crackling in the air. He led you toward his machine, enthusiasm battling with anxiety. “It’s a pretty good plan.”

He motioned for you to gather around as he brought forth a mini Loom. The contraption was a jumble of wires and painted models, its haphazard design reflecting the urgency of the moment.

“Here’s a model I mocked up of the Loom. Forgive the shoddy and slapdash work. It’s not to scale. I only got one coat of paint on there. I haven’t been able to carve out figures to represent all of us,” he explained, gesturing animatedly.

You listened to OB intently, your gaze fixed on the chaotic array of machinery around the lab. The air hummed with anticipation and tension, every ticking clock and buzzing light amplifying the gravity of the moment.

Just as OB detailed the intricacies of the Loom’s mechanics, your attention was drawn to a figure in the corner of the room—a sight you hadn’t expected.

“What’s she doing here?” you blurted out, confusion etching your features as you shot Sylvie a dirty look. Her presence felt like a dark cloud looming over the proceedings.

Sylvie crossed her arms defensively, her glare piercing as she met your eyes with equal intensity. Before you could say anything else, Loki's voice filled the space, calm yet authoritative. “Sylvie wants to help.”

You raised an eyebrow, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “So we’re just going to forget how she almost killed me and Victor?” A hollow laugh escaped your lips, disbelief coloring your words. “Alright then.”

Loki opened his mouth, clearly about to say something, but Victor interjected, pointing toward another Loom. It resembled his initial design but with distinct modifications. “The Loom,” he said, his tone a mix of pride and apprehension.

OB, suddenly looking bashful, scratched the back of his neck. “I’m honestly embarrassed that Victor’s here to see it,” he admitted, his eyes darting away.

“You’re being hard on yourself. It looks great,” Mobius chimed in, his encouraging voice cutting through the tension.

"All right. What’s the plan?" Loki asked, his brows furrowed, an air of determination wrapping around him.

OB stepped forward, gesturing animatedly as he grabbed a figure to demonstrate on the mini Loom. "It’s simple," he explained, his voice steady with the weight of urgency. "One of us will have to take our Throughput Multiplier down the gangway. Load it into the launcher, then hit the green button to launch it towards the Loom."

He paused, letting the gravity of the task sink in. "It will dock with the Loom, scaling its capacity to manage the backlog of branches that was created when…" His tone shifted, dripping with sarcasm, "someone killed He Who Remains and released all those branches and ruined my life."

You subtly shot a glare at Sylvie, who stood with arms crossed, her expression a mixture of defiance and guilt.

Loki leaned in, curiosity piqued. "Hang on. What’s the connection between the Throughput Multiplier and the Loom?"

"The rings of the Loom aren’t wide enough," Casey chimed in, his voice steady but filled with concern.

"That’s correct," OB confirmed, his tone urgent. "We need to make the rings bigger so more branches can fit through. But there’s one gigantic problem."

Loki tilted his head, an eyebrow raised. "What’s that?"

“There is much, much more Temporal Radiation in here than there was when you went out there, Mobius,” OB stated, his voice thick with concern as he adjusted his glasses, eyes darting nervously between the group. The tension in the lab grew heavier, wrapping around you like a fog.

“More?” Mobius echoed incredulously, his brows furrowing. He inhaled sharply, then turned to Loki, determination etched on his face. “Okay, well, I mean, Loki’s really gonna have to hoof it then, right?”

Loki frowned, his ocean eyes widening in surprise as he met Mobius’s gaze. “Hang on a second. Why is it suddenly me having to hoof it?” He crossed his arms, an unmistakable petulance creeping into his posture.

“Because it’s your turn,” Mobius replied simply, shrugging as if it were the most logical conclusion.

“Says who?” Loki huffed, his frustration palpable. “Why? Why is it suddenly me?”

“Clearly, this isn’t me,” Mobius retorted.

You couldn’t help but watch their playful banter unfold, an amused smile creeping across your lips. “Just because it isn’t you doesn’t mean it isn’t me,” Loki added.

Mobius pointed to the miniature figure that OB had placed on the mini Loom. “It’s got your shape.”

“It’s got my shape?” Loki echoed incredulously, raising an eyebrow.

“And here I thought you were supposed to be this indestructible god,” you chimed in, unable to resist the urge to tease him further.

Loki turned to you, mock betrayal etched across his face. “Oh, I am, Darling,” he said, puffing out his chest slightly. “I most certainly am. But the fact remains—it’s a suit. It could be anybody.”

“It's wearing a helmet,” Sylvie interjected, irritation lacing her voice. “Doesn’t look like anyone.”

“Uh…” OB interjected, adjusting his glasses as he gathered his thoughts, his gaze darting between the group. “It doesn’t matter who it is. It’s doable. But this person just needs to be… woosh super-fast.”

“Okay, great. So, what are we waiting for? Let’s do this!” Sylvie clapped her hands together. You had to restrain yourself from scoffing; the situation was complicated enough without her unwittingly playing the role of instigator in all of this.

“There’s another problem,” Casey chimed in, a hint of concern creasing his brow.

“What’s that?” Loki asked, exasperation edging into his tone. He ran a hand through his dark hair, clearly growing impatient.

“This whole plan is only theoretical because our Throughput Multiplier doesn’t yet work,” OB replied softly, his voice filled with uncertainty.

“Why?” Loki pressed, his curiosity piqued.

“Wait,” Victor interrupted, raising a finger as if he’d just made a brilliant discovery. Everyone turned to him, intrigued. “Let me guess. The Loom’s temporal decay outpaces your Multiplier’s throughput capabilities.”

“Every time, yeah. How did you know that?” Casey shot back, surprised.

“Because I had the same problem with my Loom… until I made this.” Victor produced a small device from his pocket, holding it up like a trophy. “It’s a prototype. Still.”

Loki took a cautious step closer, narrowing his eyes at the device. “OB, it’ll work?”

“Integrating them, if that would even work, would take a long time,” OB replied, his voice tinged with uncertainty. He rubbed his temples as if trying to fend off a brewing headache from all the possibilities swirling around them.

Victor’s confidence, however, was unwavering. “Mr. Ouroboros,” he began, locking eyes with OB, “if anyone can make this happen, it’s you and me.” He extended his hand, and OB grasped it firmly.

Then OB turned his gaze to you, a hint of hope igniting in his expression as he added. “I think Darling could help too.”

Your heart fluttered at the mention of your name, a rush of excitement coursing through you. A surprised smile broke across your face, lighting up the dimly lit lab. “I’d love to, gentlemen. Just give me five,” you replied, your voice a harmonious blend of lightness and determination.

As you walked out of the room alongside Mobius, Loki, and Sylvie, Mobius turned to you, his trademark grin appearing as he casually murmured, “All right, let’s have a little pie while we wait.”

The mere thought of pie sent a warm flutter through your stomach, a brief distraction from the chaos surrounding you. Just as you opened your mouth to respond, Sylvie’s irritated voice sliced through the moment like a knife. “Pie?”

Mobius blinked, clearly taken aback by her reaction. “Yeah?” he said, confusion lacing his tone.

Sylvie crossed her arms, her frustration palpable. “What is the matter with you? You dragged me back here begging for help, so you must have some idea of what’s happening. Everything is turning to shit, and you want to leave it to them while we go and have some pie? Great idea, Mobius,” she spat, her words dripping with sarcasm.

“Sylvie, wait—” Loki interjected, his voice calm but strained, trying to bridge the rising tension.

“No, I won’t wait,” she snapped, her eyes blazing. Turning to Mobius, she continued with a scathing edge, “Come on. Let’s go and get some pie. Why not? It’s a great idea. Clocks don’t tick at the TVA, do they? You found out you’re a Variant, and you haven’t even looked, have you? It’s just another bad day at the office for you. Timelines are just lines on a monitor. Doesn’t matter if a few disappear. Because you’ve never bothered to look if one of them was yours. Does it even matter that the branches are dying?”

As she launched into her diatribe, you could feel your eye twitching at her relentless tone. With a huff of exasperation, you let out a huge scoff, your irritation bubbling over. “Because of you, sweetheart,” you shot back, your voice steady despite the tension.

Sylvie’s gaze snapped to you, narrowed and simmering with defiance. “Excuse me?”

“Yes, excuse you,” you replied, your tone firm as you stepped forward, undeterred. “Last I checked, no one dragged you here kicking and screaming. You came back of your own free will. And ever since, all you’ve done is complain, rather than help fix this situation that, frankly, you caused.”

She scoffed, crossing her arms. “I don’t see you helping,” she shot back.

“Oh, I’m about to,” you said, unbothered. “Once I’m in the right mindset, of course.” You held her gaze, unflinching. “And you know what? I think I’ve earned myself a bit of fucking pie after nearly drowning—thanks to you, mind you. And, FYI, I think I might have a bit of aquaphobia now. So maybe, just maybe, you could stop trying to be the victim so bad and actually do something useful instead of standing around, casting blame like it’s a sport.”

For a split second, Sylvie just looked you up and down, her jaw clenched. Then, with a dismissive huff, she turned on her heel and stormed off without a word. You rolled your eyes, not particularly fazed, but noticed Loki take a step to follow her.

“Wait,” you interjected, your tone edged with incredulity. “You’re really going to run after her after that little tantrum?”

Loki hesitated, torn between you and Sylvie’s retreating form. His brow furrowed, conflicted, but you shook your head, irritation flaring as you let out a heavy sigh then you reached for Mobius instead. He still looked solemn, her words clearly weighing on him.

“Come on, Mobius,” you said, slipping your arm through his with a gentle tug. “Let’s get that pie. I could use a bit of sweetness after all this.”

Mobius glanced down, managing a small, grateful smile as he nodded. You gave him a reassuring squeeze, just a little as you led him away, not looking back.

taglist

@eleniblue @nishayuro @astrynyx @agustdpeach

Hope You Enjoyed 💚💛

#loki x you #loki x reader #loki fanfic #loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson x reader #loki season 2 #loki show #loki series

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sea-of-dust · 2 years ago

Text

Wonderland Girl

Himeko,Jing Yuan,Seelie,Yanqing x GN! Reader

Summary: Relationship Headcannons!

Notes: Muhahaha, another theme change stg if I change my name rn no one will recognize me 😼😼. Ignore the Pastel★Pallette Referance I ran outta ideas

Warnings: suggestive humor,not proofread

She finds you so adorable even when your supposed to be serious. She'd be right next to you watching you come up with a plan and circle around the room. When you come up with a plan you do this cute thing where your head perks up and she just melts seeing this you can't be this cute.

She also likes whenever you act professionally in front of people from the train and then turn around and flirt with her. "Yea...if March is right about this, this could lead to a whole investigation breaking out... What do you think my dear" "my dear?" "Well the best course of action if things go south would probably be an ambush" "yea...most likely I'll go with you guys" "does that mean my room will be vacant again?" She teases "don't worry you still have plenty of things to remind you of me while I'm out ♡" March leans into the Trailblazer. "I think we should give em some room" "they need a room"

100% her hands are all over you. If your right next to she's having a hand around your waist. You could be on your phone she'd lean on you smiling. "You're so warm" she remarks, laying on your shoulder. She just loves physical contact

Her kisses are soft yet intimate depending on how many people are around. She's fine with pda but understands if you may be uncomfortable. Dosent stop her for pinning you against a wall and kissing you all over. "You're so adorable when you're flustered," she smiles

Welt usually gets indirectly bullied by you two. You could be all lovey dovey while he's on a call with the Trailblazer and he would just be unable to handle it. You pointed this out to her and wanted to see how long it would take for him to leave the room. "Himeko you're so beautiful today!" "Why you're as beautiful as always my dear" "Why you're stunning my love!" He looks back at you two annoyed. "Pardon Trailblazer" he moves to another room he could hear you two laughing in the other room.

She enjoys you pampering her. You tucking her in or preparing food for her. She loves it! She'll pay you back preparing a bath for you or giving you massages. "Just relax I'm very good with my hands" she rubs your back. "Thank you Himeko" "No problem" she kisses the back of your neck.

She likes dancing with you in private, not everyone should be allowed to see this side of her after all, a calm song with her being able to rest on your shoulder as you lead. "Thought you said you had cold feet" "I can manage." It's so calm and intimate that she tries not to fall asleep on you. "Don't sleep again" "aw howed you know" she looks up a bit drowsy. "Whenever you go five minutes without conversation it's kinda odvious your drifting off" she smiles "you know me well~"

She slipped a ring on your finger while out on a date. You two were drinking tea, and while you were looking away, she slips a ring on your finger. When you notice this, you look at your hand and look at her. "What?" "Did you-" she smirks, watching your flabbergasted reaction

She adores staying in and watching moves with you. Random crime docs or just bad TV drama she enjoys laying in bed next to you as you two cringe at a bad romance show. The best parts definitely when you end up sleeping. Then she gets to admire just how cute you could be without even trying!

Attempting to make tea together is something she didn't know she wanted until you did it. "Himeko, what flavor do you like?" You yell out,"Whichever you'd like." "That's not what I mean!" She walks into the room, finding you going through tea. "That one's hard to prepare. I'll show you," she guides you step by step on a way to make that tea. "And that's it!" You sigh in relief "oh finally that took two years!" She giggles at this, taking a quick sip. "...we should do this more often"

"Hey would you date me if there was a bird on your head right now?" "Why that's an odd chance but I'm willing to take it" you pluck out a bird from his head "...well-"

It was an odd way of asking him out, but what was odder was how genuine his feelings were for you. You never really saw any signs of him liking you. "You thought someone kissing your hand was normal?" "I thought that's how he greeted people!"

His kisses are quick and surprising. You turn to face him, he has a kiss planted on your cheek. You just wake up, quick little kiss. The only times you'll get a longer kiss outta him is when he's feeling a little more intimate or just a way of saying thank you for adoring him the way you do.

Whenever you're sick, he lets you come into the office to stay with him, but you gotta do some of the paperwork at least three pieces. "I told you you should have stayed home." "I can handle it!" You lean into him. "You're already groaning after the first paragraph," he softly laughs. "It's overwhelming, but I can do it!" He sighs turning back to his work

He likes catching whenever you look at him. You would admire his beauty thinking about him almost zoning out. He winks at you suddenly, waking you up from the day dream flustered. "How long was I staring at you?" "Few minutes" "HUH"

Dates with him are calm and fascinating. Often walks where you two sharing random stories with each other. He can't help but smile as you recount a random story you had. "So this one time I found a moth in my room" "mhm" "and it was on the shoe I usually used to kill bugs" "I see" "and then I remembered there was another shoe and smacked it" "remmber something simular happened to me but instead of a bug, it was a bird!" "You're like a princess next your birds are going to make up a military." "...that's actually a pretty good idea" an odd silence "so did you actually smack a bird-" "No I let it fly free out the window" "oh-"

He dosent want you near any danger. The dangers of paperwork are fine but straight up fighting monsters. No you're staying inside. Even when you have combat prowess he's still gonna be all "no its too dangerous" "I fought them before tho-" "good counter argument...stay inside till its safe" "HUH-"

He'll let you pat his head as long as there aren't any birds on it. As soon as you do, he leans in to eventually leaning on your chest. "Are they that calming?" "Very much" he smiles

He thinks you're so adorable. He tries to hide the urge to just cup your cheeks to see your reaction. He enjoys the thought of catching you all flustered and kissing you just to see your reaction.

He let you meet members of the military, and they treat you like a little sibling. Like a damsel, it makes you wonder when they'll ever realize why there are fewer monsters appearing lately. "General! Monsters haven't appeared as much as they used to its assumed they must be retreating!" "Why what good news the problem is...where are they retreating to..." and you'd just be looking away from him like you're totally not the cause for this

She's very VERY clingy. She won't lose you she'll make sure of it.

If anyone in the underground didn't know you were her s/o, she'd force em to know. You'd have to hit her with a "this isn't you 🥺" as soon as you got home, she'd hate it. "Pookie!" You'd snap your fingers in her face."This isn't you!" Snap snap,"quit it! You know stuff like that's cringy" "Sorry, can't help myself"

She'd sometimes get lost in thought when talking to you, almost in a daze. "Are you alright?" You wave your hand over her face. "Yea, yea I'm fine did you just...always look so?" Once she realized she said that last part outloud, she covers her face. "Forget I said anything!"

She loves whispering things into your ear. She thinks it's intimate. She'd sit next to you leaning in "I love you~" you look at her blush nearly covering your face. "Could have said that outloud!" "Seeing you flustered makes me wanna do it more"

She pokes you whenever she's in a bad mood or just finished off a mission. Poke Poke "you had a bad day huh?" "What makes you say that" she pokes you a bit more. "Did you get into an argument with someone again?" You cup her cheek. "...maybe" she stops poking you. "How about this we get some ice cream later to help you forget about it!"

She sometimes draws stuff on your skin. Randomly opening a marker and drawing a small butterfly. If you ever told her to stop she'd look a little disappointed before figuring out she could just write letters and cover them with little drawings in the corners. "She's so old fashioned but these little drawings...she's so adorable" Natasha smiles "she's so childish when around you" "really? I just always assumed she was like this"

If she were to ever catch you asleep, she'd cuddle up with you as if waiting for you to notice she's there with you. She'd kinda lay there awkwardly before just pulling you in for a cuddle.

Natasha definitely has pictures of Seelie growing up. She'd proudly show you as soon as Seelies out of sight. "And this is her 6th birthday" you cover your mouth "she's so cute!" "I know right!" She giggles to herself

She doesn't admit it, but she likes you treating her more than Natasha. Not that she doesn't like Natasha it's that if she knows it's not that bad, she's going to you with it. "Can't believe you got yourself hurt like this" you sigh, putting a bandage over her bicep. "Try not to fight too much k? Might open up the wound" you sigh. She likes the thought of you taking care of her she hides odvious blush on her face.

If you ever knew Sampo or someone she thought would do something bad to you that she knew personally. She'd quite litterally drag you away from them. You're just lucky you got to be held by the waist and not by the scruff, unlike one unlucky salesman.

You beat him through sword fighting. He got butthurt, challenged you to a rematch, you jokingly flirt with him, he got flustered then realized he really liked you, thank god you confessed first because he would have evaporated

He's very light. Lightheaded and light on his feet. You don't hear him running up to you for hugs. "Y/n!" He rubs his cheeks against yours,"Yanqing! Where did you come from -"

If he ever caught you stretching in an open area he'd get so excited. "What cha stretching for?" He sneaks up behind you putting his hands on your shoulders. "Nothing just wanted to get out a bit" "mmmhh WANNA SWORD FIGHT?!" the idea suddenly pops in his head. "I ment I was going for a walk" "oh..." he looked so disappointed. "We can train next week if that makes you feel better" and just like that he's back to hugging you tightly shifting most of his weight onto you. "Yay! Thankyouthankyouthankyou!" "Calm down its nothing"

Hell never admit he's cute. You could tell him how cute he is and he'd be all "I am a swordsman! Not a piece of mochi!" "But you squish like one!" He tries not to smile as you stretch and swish his cheeks. "You're so cute!" "I'm not!"

He's always next to you, so say he lost you somewhere he'd lose his shit. "So then I hit em with-" he'd notice you not next to him "AAAHHHHHHH" he shreaks like a little girl and runs around the store looking for you. It got so bad he had to ask people coming out of the bathrooms. "Have you seen my s/o?!? Pretty cute...Looks like they unironcally sleep with plushies" "no?" "Damn, thank you!" It turns out you were in the other aisle looking at a piece of clothing you wanted for a while and then looked at the price and noped out. He's holding back tears

You got hurt when you went out without him. You covered it up, but he could tell something was bothering you. You didn't usually limp a tad when walking. So when you two got outta the public eye he kinda tests you softly kicking where he thinks you're in pain. You try to hold in a hiss as he's proven correct. "So what happened while I was training?" "Don't know what your talking about I'm fine." "Uh huh-" he kicks you there again "AH FINE FINE I TRIPPED" you hold onto the rail overlooking the view trying not to step down on that leg. "Knew it, why didn't you tell me?" "Because you get overly dramatic and would probably trap me in blankets and oreos if I did"

"I wouldnt!" He did...as soon as you got home it was almost an ambush. He wrapped you in your blanket and reopened your oreos. "...I told you" "shush! Now lemme take care of you" he looks at your knee rubbing cream on it. He seems pretty focused. "I'm sure it isn't that bad-" "I'm sure it is" "your wrapping my foot like a mummy..."

He'd try to get into video games you like. He didn't like some of them and ended up deleting some, but he still saw how you enjoyed them. He also tries to get you into video games he likes as well. "Hey, I found this game we might like playing!" "...looks like something my grandma would play. " You open your phone, proceeding to show him your grandma flexing how far she got in the game. "Only took her 10 months...scared of that woman." "Me too"

He tries to initiate kisses. He'd cup your face and lean in, but sometimes he just can't bear going through with it. He usually kisses you without a second thought, but when he thinks too hard about it, everything kinda just crashes down in his brain, and he goes pink. "Uh-" he pauses in the middle of leaning in to kiss you swiftly, turning away. "Thought about it too hard again?" You kiss him.

He whenever you do his hair. He purposely messes up his own hair to walk over to you. "You mind if you do my hair?" "Yea, sure, lemme get a brush. " You grab a brush and calmly untangle his hair. "The same again?" You look over to him. "Kinda wanna see something new." "All right," you part his hair, trying to think of something that would fit him, figuring a bun wound work. You wrap up his hair and put it in a bun. You had him a mirror. "One of the strands is lose," he points at it. "It's on purpose," you smile at the mirror. He gets up, looking at his hairstyle again. "You mind...doing this more offen?"

#honkai star rail #star rail #star rail x reader #star rail x y/n #honkai x reader #honkai seele #honkai yanqing #yanqing #honkai himeko #himeko #jing yuan #jing yuan x reader #yanqing x reader

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goemon-fan · 10 months ago

Text

How to Help Palestine

This post is intended to guide those who have no idea on how to help Palestine. I am making this as quick as possible, so please inform me if there is another source you would like me to add, or if any of these sources are inaccurate.

According to the Palestinian Children's Relief Fund, what we, the average person, can do to help Palestine is:

Educate ourselves (reading and learning Palestine's history)

Advocate for change (writing to representatives, voting, protesting, and petitions)

Staying informed and engaged (reading reputable news sources, don't stop talking about Palestine!)

Supporting Palestinian businesses (and boycotting those businesses which do not support Palestine)

Donating to reputable organizations (the PCRF is a great one, however there is also gazaesims.com, Doctors without Borders, UNWRA, and these)

Notice how many of these are free and easily available.

Education

Decolonizepalestine.com, and more specifically its reading list, is a great start. I highly recommend this Palestine Masterlist Google Doc, it provides free resources and just about everything you need to be informed and educated. This Carrd is also informative and easy to understand. Pluto Books is having a sale on books about Palestine, and Verso Books even provides ebooks for free. Words without Borders provides free stories from Palestinian writers. This website also links to free resources. It is also worth checking out your local library to see if they have any available books about Palestine.

Advocate for Change

Email script; send the message as often as you can, and keep track of possible responses from your representatives. If they're advocating for Is---l (such as my representative is, however I do not want to doxx myself; however, they are Republican) vote them out.

Ceasefiretoday.com provides a master list of advocacy resources.

Staying Informed and Engaged

Aljazeera.com is a great resource for current news regarding Gaza, the U.S. government, and the victims of this violence.

As for staying engaged, don't stop talking about Palestine! Talk with your friends, family, anyone about what is happening, and use your newfound education to educate others! Make a stand and cut Z---ists out of your life!

Support Palestinian Businesses

This is a good beginning list, but feel free to branch out to other Palestinian brands.

However, make sure to boycott these companies, and remember to check any produce you buy (especially dates for Ramadan) to see if it is produced by Is---l.

Donating to Reputable Organizations

Here is this charity list again. Make sure that your charity of choice:

Is going to Gaza/Palestine and

Advocates for a ceasefire

Be on the lookout for scams, and if you want to help Palestinians directly without running the risk of a scam, eSims for Gaza is a great source; and, you're making history! You get to tell your ancestors how you fought for Palestinians!

What Now?

As a final note, every little bit counts. Please do not remain silent even if you run a fan account or have a particular "aesthetic," please do not allow your fandom to remain silent, please do not fall for the fallacy that there's no way you can fight against an entire government. There is strength in numbers, and every little action you make contributes, whether for better or worse. Please do not support Z-----t actors or media, please do not drink Starbucks or buy McDonalds because that is what is convenient for you, please do not choose ignorance and silence to what is happening. I am not asking you to sacrifice or put your life on hold, but you do need to care. Thank you.

#palestine #free palestine #from the river to the sea palestine will be free #i stand with palestine #🇵🇸

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theidiotwhowritesthings · 2 years ago

Note

I am IN LOVE with your writing! I’m a dedicated reader! 💓💓 thanks for taking the time to do it!

Hear me out. Reader pulls a 24 hour shift in the local clinic on a busy day and we get a protective worried din?

He would also be busy but he would definitely pull reader out and make her take a nap AT LEAST. 😂 anyway, I just thought that would be cute to think about.

I hope you have a wonderful day and keep up the good work!

[a/n: anybody wanna guess how many times it took me to try and post this b/c tumblr wanted to keep glitching and destroying it?? FUCKING FOUR. lord, im gonna go scream in a pillow. anyways, thanks anon for the great idea! also pls consider this my apology for the cliffhanger that i am so sorry (but not really) for.]

'A FRESH START' DELETED SCENE

Din Djarin x Female!Reader

Warnings: reader overworks herself, mentions of injuries (burns specifically) but not in great detail

Word Count: 1,934

Summary: Everyone needs a break, and Din is hell bent on ensuring you don't skip yours.

#MID 17: TAKE A BREAK, DOC

[so not between chapters, but a scene within one of the time breaks in chapter 17.]

"be with someone who will take care of you. not materialistically but take care of your soul, your well being, your heart, and everything that's you." -unknown

Trying to get the emergency clinic established was not easy. You agreed to the job, and Karga had given you free reign. The High Magistrate was essentially allowing you to run the clinic as you saw fit. Which in part was fantastic because it gave you incredible freedom, but it was also your worst nightmare. All your training had taught you was how to handle the medical aspect of an office. The business and organization side was a whole other issue. Especially because the people of Nevarro were not understanding that this was for emergencies only.

“My ankle hurts.”

“Alright, when did this start? When did you get hurt?”

“I twisted it while jogging three years ago.”

“You⏤ Wait, what?”

In order for this to work the way it needed to, you’d have to focus on actual emergencies only. Alone you would never be able to handle the patient load that would come with servicing an entire city. Plus, you really didn’t want to. The amount of time it would take to even attempt that was insane, and Din needed your help with Grogu.

So, the plan would be to establish that this clinic was emergencies only, emphasize it to everyone who walked in the door, but for today you’d manage all the small, routine problems.

Just for today.

By lunch time, you had already seen 47 patients. None of which were emergent. In fact, the biggest injury was a young man who had dropped a glass plate at home and accidentally cut his hand. He needed four stitches.

“Aayla?”

“Four more in the waiting room, doctor!” Aayla called out without even having to be asked the question. She was a gift from the Maker today. Already, you had decided to try training her more in depth medically and hire someone else to work the front desk. “You also have a guest.

“What?” You breathed, barely able to catch her words.

Aayla didn’t need to repeat herself because that was the moment Din swept into the room with the same confident strut he naturally seemed to have. At the sight of him, you couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief as your lips curled up into a smile.

“What is going on?” Din asked as he drifted closer to you. There were still two patients sitting on cots waiting for you to finish with them, but Din commandeered your attention by settling his hand on your lower back and staring down at you. Even through the helmet you could feel his concerned gaze. “Why are you so busy? I thought you were hired for emergencies only.”

“I was, but apparently nobody told all of Nevarro that.”

Din stiffened. “Did Karga⏤”

“No. I don’t think he tricked me into this or that this was on purpose.” You said quickly. “And everyone who comes in, I’m telling them that from now on it’s emergencies only.”

“But today?”

“Today, I am seeing every Nevarro citizen.” You chuckled. “You want a check up, Mando?”

“Ner kar’ta,” Din shook his head, “Have you taken any breaks at all?” You shot him a sheepish smile. “Come. Let’s get lunch.”

“I can’t. I’ll just get further behind.” You mumbled. Din looked like he was ready to argue with you. In fact, his hands even drifted to his hips as his head tilted. You had seen him take on the same stance before lecturing Grogu. You wrapped your hands around his forearm and gave him the most reassuring smile you could muster. “It’s fine. I’m just sorry I’m bailing on you for lunch.” He sighed. “You poor thing, now you’ll have to spend more time with Mayfeld.”

Din huffed and you chuckled. Aayla called out that more people were filling the space, and for a second you thought the Mandalorian Marshal was considering sending everybody home just so you could have a moment for lunch. You squeezed his forearm.

“Fine.” Din grumbled.

“Also, I know this won’t help my argument or convince you of anything, but,” You scrunched your nose with a small wince, “Do you think you can pick up Grogu today?”

Din seemed taken aback based on his voice alone, “How long do you plan on staying?”

You knew his question was one more focused on the concern of you staying here for too long versus him being upset that you couldn’t get Grogu. When you shot him another sheepish smile he just grumbled under his breath in Mando’a. Din caught you off guard by leaning forward to lightly rest his forehead against yours for a second.

“This conversation isn’t over.” Din said simply and you just chuckled in response.

He squeezed your hand once before leaving and you were forced to return to the patients you had. Ten minutes passed at the most, you got two patients out with Aayla’s help, when Din’s heavy footfalls returned. You glanced over your shoulder to see he was holding a bag of food. He crossed the space to set the bag in your hands and you peered in to see it was your favorite sandwich from the local shop. Your eyes glanced back up at him with a grin. The warmth of being seen and known settling in your chest.

“Eat.” Din said firmly.

“Thank you.” You replied. “I’ll eat it as soon as⏤”

“No.” He interrupted. A tilt to his head and a challenge in his voice. “I’m not leaving until I watch you take a few bites. At the least.”

You rolled your eyes, in good nature, and handed him the bag so you could wash your hands in the sink off to the side. On your way back to Din, you asked Aayla to bandage one patient’s knee and get imaging of another patient’s hand. Din had already pulled out your sandwich to set on the desk you had brought into the corner. Before you could reach for it, Din pointed to the desk chair. With a chuckle you dropped down into the seat, the first time you were off your feet all morning, and only then did Din push the sandwich toward you.

“Thanks.” You said after your first bite. More sincere than your last. Din was leaning against the desk beside you. Close enough that your arm could press against his thigh if you moved it over even an inch. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“Apparently, I did.” Din chuckled. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t have eaten at all.”

You couldn't argue. Instead, you just shook your head, “Not gonna lie, I always did have a bad habit of getting caught up in my work.”

“Why does that not surprise me?”

“Doctor, can you take a look at this?” Aayla called out.

You quickly took one last, large bite of your sandwich before standing. Din pushed off the desk to tower over you again. He nodded. “I’ll pick up Grogu, but if you’re not home by 5 I’m coming back to drag you home.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” You teased.

Din leaned over to lightly tap his forehead against yours and you chuckled. He reached over to pick up your sandwich and held it up towards you. You raised an eyebrow at him, but he didn’t budge. Rolling your eyes, you leaned over and took another bite. Holding a hand over your mouth, tucking the food into your cheek, you spoke. “Happy?”

“Yes. Be careful. Message me if you need anything.”

You watched him leave with a bemused smile.

Never before had you been so acutely aware of the saying ‘when it rains, it pours’. Today had already been stressful and busy so it would make sense that at 4:25 in the afternoon an actual emergency rolled in. Nothing to test and stretch your skills like having to handle a trauma case after a full day of working. There had been an incident, on the other side of this world deep in the lava plains, where a group of smugglers got a bit too close to a river of lava with their weapons and nearly blew one another sky high.

The least injured of the three had flown them in. She had some superficial burns all along her left side. Then the other two had third degree burns that required some serious fluid replacement. You didn’t stop working, barely paused to take a breath, until all three were stable and resting comfortably. Only then did you drop down into your desk’s chair and rest your head on your arms with a sigh.

About twenty minutes later, a pair of hands settled on your shoulders, squeezing in comfort, and you would’ve been startled if you didn’t recognize the creak of Din’s leather with the comforting smell of his flight suit’s detergent and the polish used on his beskar.

“What time is it?” You groaned.

“8:42.”

“You’re nearly four hours late.”

Din squeezed your shoulders once more before letting a hand settle on the back of your neck. You found the weight of it grounded you. “I got here at 4:50. Saw you were busy with something important. Left then came back.” His thumb caressed your skin, and you pushed your head up to glance at him. Din had the hand not on your neck resting on the desk. “You alright?”

“Just tired.” You mumbled and rubbed your face with one hand. “Grogu?”

“He’s with Peli. Missed you at dinner though.” Din replied. “He acts up when you’re not around.”

“No, no. He’s a perfect angel, always.”

Din snorted at that, and the sound made you chuckle. You glanced over at the cots that held the three smugglers who slept soundly. All their vitals still stable. Din’s hand slipped down to rub your upper back soothingly. “You coming home?”

“I can’t. Not until the emergency shuttle gets here to pick those three up.” You sighed. “They have to be at a facility with a higher level of care than just me.”

“‘Just you’ saved their lives.”

“You know what I mean.” You shrugged. “You should go though.” Din tilted his head. “There’s no telling how long it’ll take for the ship to get here. I already sent Aayla home. I’m just babysitting right now. You should pick up Grogu and head home. Get some sleep.”

Din shook his head as if it were the stupidest thing you had ever said. He gently wrapped his hand around your upper arm and pulled you up from your seat. You let him drag you along to the fourth cot in the room which was currently empty. “You sleep. I’ll babysit.”

“Din…”

He lightly pushed down on your shoulders until you were seated on the cot. You stared up at him in question, but he just shook his head. “If something changes with their status I’ll wake you.” Din pushed you down a little further so you were laying down. The moment your body hit the relatively soft bed you felt yourself sink into it with exhaustion. Din went to walk, but you grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the cot as well.

“You can babysit while laying down, can’t you?”

“My armor isn’t gonna be much of a pillow.”

“Neither is this cot.”

Din chuckled and dropped down to lay beside you. You rested your head on his chest, the cool metal of the beskar biting into your warm cheek, and just sighed. It hadn’t occurred to you how tired you truly were until now. Din had an arm wrapped around you so he could grasp your shoulder with his hand and use his thumb to trace patterns there.

“Take a break, doc.” Din hummed. “I got you.”

taglist:

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#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #mando #mando x reader #mando x you #reader insert #female reader #mandalorian fanfic #mandalorian x you #mandalorian x reader #fluff #comfort #nanny!reader #doctor!reader

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sunscreenstudies · 10 months ago

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A Step-by-Step Guide for Socially Anxious Email Senders

Read the horrible, horrible email you have to reply to and then feel relief at the fact that "well, at least it's not a phone call!"

Determine what parts you have to reply to i.e. if they asked you a question about something or if there's a part where you need to ask them a question about something

Set a timer for 2 min, 5 min, or 10 min depending on the importance of the email, but no longer!

Write your greeting: "Hi [their first name]" for friendlies, "Dear Mr/Ms/Dr [their last name]" for acquaintances

Write your ending (Yes, we're doing this now before we write anything else): "Best wishes, [your first name]" for friendlies, "Kind Regards, [your first and last name]" for acquaintances

Write "Hope you're well!" This is a game changer because now they know you're thinking of them BUT they don't feel like they have to answer in the way that typing "How are you?" does. Plus, the exclamation mark always helps to lighten up an email that otherwise might feel stuffy.

Answer their questions. If they asked multiple, then split up your answers with filler phrases such as "In relation to...", "In regard to...", "As for...", etc. Finish your paragraph with "I hope this helps, but if you have any further questions, please feel free to ask!"

Ask your questions. If you don't have any questions, then find the most complicated/unclear part of their email, rephrase it, and throw it in after a "Just a quick note to confirm my understanding of the project: [the rephrased bit]". This will let them know that you did thoroughly read their email, and it also provides them with an excuse to email you back with "yes, you're right" or "actually..." which removes the awkwardness they might be feeling as to whether there's any need to reply to your email or not. Finish your paragraph with "Thank you!" (it never hurts to be nice)

Check for spelling or grammar mistakes (if you don't have an extension like Grammarly, then copy and paste your email into Google Docs/Word doc/LibraOffice doc/etc. to check for errors there. Once you've corrected them, copy and paste the corrected text back into your email, replacing the original text)

Reread your email three times. Look at me. Look. At. Me. Three times. That's it! No more and no less! Your timer should have gone off by now, so times up, tough luck, you have to send it, the timer said so. If your timer hasn't gone off yet, then congrats! You beat the clock! Now let's celebrate by sending that horrible email immediatley.

Check your "sent" email box once - just once - to make sure that your email did successfully send and to shut up that part of your brain that's going "but what if they didn't get it?!" They got it. Exit your email browser/app.

Turn your phone/laptop on "do not disturb", leave your desk, make yourself a big mug of something hot (I personally prefer black tea, but you could make tea, coffee, hot chocolate, soup, etc. - whatever you enjoy the most!). Bonus Points: If you're at home or in an enclosed office, then throw on your favourite song or a dancing playlist, and spend five minutes dancing and shaking off that nervous energy before getting back to work. Congratulations: You did it!

#studyblr #email writing #social anxiety #how to write an email #anxiety tips #you've got this #just take a deep breath #and always remember #at least it's not a phone call

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greetingfromthedead · 3 months ago

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7. Sacrifice Sleep

Series: Apple Blossoms Pairing: Knives x GN!Reader Word count: 3.2k

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Dawn creeps over the dunes, rays of sunlight breaking through from between the houses as you stumble out of the tent. You rip the mask from your face with shaking hands, taking a deep breath. For the first time, it's unrestrained, the stench of decay mostly gone. You look around at the empty streets; the town is still asleep, or at least pretending to be. The screams of pain still echo in your head like a ringing in your ears that won't go away. Squatting low to the ground, it is hard to keep your exhausted eyes open. All night you've scraped and cut infected flesh from raw wounds until you reach healthy-looking tissue. You've stitched up what you could, but many wounds you had to cauterize to stop the bleeding and hopefully burn away the infection. Two men, who came to help you after hearing the screams, exit the tent, carrying your last patient on a stretcher to move them to a clean environment as per your instructions. You watch them leave, knowing that whoever remains will die sooner rather than later. About half are still left; all you could do for them was to make them drink some tea that would help them sleep and hopefully escape the agony that comes with being awake.

Another deep breath, and you force yourself up with the last strength that's left in your bones. Clutching the cloth that has covered your head and face all night, you walk down the street to the inn. The receptionist was clearly waiting for you but had fallen asleep behind the desk. The bell that rings as you open the door is what wakes her, and she blinks in your direction before coming to her senses.

"Doc! My goodness, it's dawn! You only just now made it here?" Her voice is high with surprise. "I'd ask if you needed anything, but you look like the only thing you need is to go to bed! Here, have the second key to the room. I'm sorry it's not much, but it is the last one we had."

You just nod and take the key from her outstretched hand. The words of thanks you want to speak get lost somewhere in the maze between your brain and mouth. You have to focus hard to understand the directions she gives you, but eventually manage to commit them to memory and follow them to a heavy door. Leaning your side against the wall, you try to stick the key in the lock, but it wouldn't budge, as if stuffed with something, so you push the handle down, and the door opens. You don't stop to think too hard on it as soon as you see the singular large fluffy bed that's to one side of the dim room, the curtains keeping the light still out. Just to be sure, you check the number on your key chain to the number on the door and then go in. The last worry is wiped away as you notice your bag on the floor. You close the door with a sigh of relief and see that a copy of your own key is already in the lock. You turn it, and the deadbolt clicks into place.

You strip layers of clothing away, letting them fall to the ground with each step you take closer to the bed. The thought of looking for some clean clothes for sleeping does cross your mind, but by the time you reach the edge of the bed in your underwear, your bag seems too far away and the blanket is too tantalizing. You make the mistake of sitting down to pull your socks off, and that's when it becomes clear that you won't get out again.

Just a moment longer. I will just rest my head for a minute. You think to yourself as you lay on your side, head on the pillow, but your body is too heavy to move it enough to get under the soft covers. Sleep claims you the moment your eyes fall shut. It's as if the whole bed shifts, the blanket envelops you in its embrace, even the side that was left out gets covered by the soft fabric, and it pulls you further into the bed, away from the edge. You know that because you have to hold on tighter to your pillow or you would have rolled off it just before drifting to sleep.

When you finally wake up, the room is hot and stuffy, the curtains diffuse the bright light of high noon, and you groggily sit up to look for your canteen. Your nose and throat are dry as parchment, making you feel like you're suffocating. As soon as you sit up, you see the container on the floor, right next to your bed, but you aren't sure how it got there. Instead of questioning that, you grab it to drink deeply, soothing the discomfort. With a sigh, you rub your eyes. You are still tired, woken up by the light and thirst, not because you've rested enough. But you might as well get up; there is a lot you need to get done.

You sit on the edge of the bed, wrapped up in the nice blanket that feels comforting against your skin, contemplating everything you did during the night, when you notice the tray on the little table under the window. It looks like breakfast. Some coffee and a bowl of porridge with some bread and what looks like jam. Suddenly you're reminded that it has been a while since your last meal, and you get up to look at it more closely. Everything has gone cold; it must have been at least a few hours since it was brought here, and that's the next question: who brought it here? Could it have been the receptionist? That doesn't seem quite right. You doubt she would have come in this morning. But nothing else makes sense either.

As you think about the mystery, the door behind you opens quietly, and you turn around. Immediately you pull the blanket tighter around you as you see Knives enter the room.

"What are you doing here?" you exclaim as a reaction and see his gaze move up to look at your face.

"What do you mean? It's my room as much as yours," he responds matter-of-factly.

"What?" you ask in confusion, your mouth hanging open.

"There was just one room. I thought you would have realized that we're sharing." Knives's words hold no real emotion; it feels more like he is stating facts. You wonder what is going through his head. "Anyway, you made it in very late. You poured yourself into your work again, didn't you? Same as with me, no regard for yourself. You should go back to sleep."

"I should get back to work; check on those I treated and those I haven't gotten to yet," you respond and turn away from him to look at the tray of breakfast, the blanket still clutched tightly around you.

"Didn't you say it is better to be rested than to run on empty?" he echoes your sentiment from a few days ago.

"Yeah, well, maybe you should help me a bit, apprentice?" you say teasingly and look over your shoulder.

"Maybe I will," he responds to your surprise. "But that reminds me… Dave? Really?"

"I panicked!" You try to defend yourself.

"And that's the first thing you came up with? I would understand you shortening it to Nai or something, but I don't think I look like a Dave," he says casually and heads back to the door.

"Nai? Yeah, I'm sure nobody would see through that." You nod and look back to the cup of coffee until you hear the door closing again. You make sure you're alone before getting dressed in clean clothes and digging into the stale breakfast.

Knives lingers behind the door, unsure where to go or what to do. He feels strange. Almost like he's getting sick to his stomach, but also not. It's a feeling he can't quite place. It irritates him. It's like a pit in his belly that has been turned inside out, suddenly too full, pressing against his lungs and his spine, a balloon of some kind, moving and twisting, almost alive. Yet not forceful, gentle even. He just hopes it has nothing to do with the injury in his side; he doesn't want to rely on your mercy any longer. He wants to be able to put trust in his own body and push forward with his own strength. He leans against the wall beside the door and waits for you.

The memory of this morning comes into his head. The way you dragged your exhausted body through the room, shedding layers of clothing with every step, your only goal to collapse into bed and fall asleep. He is sure you didn't see him there; the only thing you had your eyes on was the softness of the pillow awaiting you. You were completely oblivious to his presence; you just muttered something incoherent, too exhausted to change clothes, as you laid down on top of the blanket and fell away almost as soon as your head touched the pillow. You laid next to him, on the very edge of the bed. With the restlessness you demonstrated the last few nights, Knives knew you would fall off sooner rather than later. He made peace with you ruining his rest, so he threw the blanket off him and over you before grabbing it and pulling you towards the center of the mattress. He was sure you had already drifted off, not realizing anything that he did before he got out of bed to get started on his day earlier than he anticipated.

He wandered the inn, but that only occupied him for a short while. He realized all the rooms are filled, and from what he gathered last night, he put two and two together, figuring those are all sick people, quarantined away from the few who are still healthy in their families. He wonders what you did all night; what could it be for you to find it cruel? Matching evil does sound familiar to him. To fight something bad with something worse for a better goal. To him, it seems like a necessary sacrifice, but human cruelty has always been its own thing in his eyes. It has been the evil he has fought, not the tool to accomplish something good.

Knives waits for you outside the room, standing next to the door almost like a guard. It feels wrong. He's not sure what bothers him more—is it the fact that he is basically chained to you, waiting for your command and guidance, or because he feels like he has no place here? He spent the morning downstairs, turning the pages of old and dusty books while ignoring the presence of the people who walked through the room, but he doesn't want to go back there again. He hates to admit it, but he prefers your company; however, you too more or less kicked him out. He wonders if you're eating the food he brought upstairs for you. Knives doesn't know why it matters, but deep down, a part of him wants you to appreciate his efforts. He tries to wipe that lingering feeling away; the stray thought and admission is a thorn in his side, so he places his hand over the healing wound, pressing on it to feel the dull pain that is real, not something unimportant and imaginary that troubles his thoughts.

After a short while, the door to your room opens, and you walk out, startled by Knives's presence right next to you. He pushes off the wall, acting as if he hadn't been waiting for you, his expression neutral, almost bored. His eyes glance into the room to spot the tray with dirty dishes on the table—all the food eaten and gone.

"Do you need something from in there?" you ask him.

"No," Knives responds and simply walks away, heading along the hallway.

"What about the mask?" you remind him, but you see how he pulls the familiar fabric from his pocket without looking at you. "Good! Wear it!"

You follow your own instructions, tying the cloth around your face tightly after locking the door, and you watch Knives do the same while he keeps walking. You have to hasten your step to catch up to him, but do so before you reach the metal staircase that's covered by carpet. Together, you head out from the inn. You see a few people milling about. A few recognize you and greet you warmly, expressing their gratitude and how they can't wait to be seen by you. It takes quite a bit for you to act casual, with a friendly smile on your lips as you assure them you will be with them soon, not wanting to let on to the treatment methods you've resorted to.

The first order of business is to go to the patients you dealt with during the night. They were moved to the local saloon that had been the last place with still some room. As you enter, you see that the tables have all been pushed to the edges of the floor, and mats with clean sheets have been spread out in the center for the patients to rest on. They still look weak, many groaning with pain. Jenny moves between them, helping cups of water to their lips, checking for their temperatures, and taking notes for every patient.

"Doc!" she greets you cheerily as she notices your presence.

"How are they doing? Have you checked on their wounds?" you ask back, taking a step closer and looking for the supplies you ordered to be brought here.

"Incredible! I have a hard time believing these are the same people that were still in that tent only yesterday! The wounds look good; no sign of rotting flesh!" Jenny responds and comes closer. She looks older like this, her face covered by a mask, long gloves covering her arms, and a white apron over her regular clothes. Like this, it is easy to forget she is only a teenager.

"It's too early to tell. But thank you for checking on them! I appreciate it!" you smile, relieved to hear that, at least for now, your theory has not been proven wrong.

"I see what you did," her voice gets lower, a bit sadder, "you cut out the bad parts, burned the wounds to sterilize them, and stopped the bleeding. The thought crossed my mind, but I was too scared to try. I can't stand causing someone pain."

"It's okay; this might not have worked at all. We'll have to wait and see. Hopefully we will get some more painkillers today." you console the young girl as you pull on gloves of your own.

Knives watches the exchange go down. He keeps his expression uninterested, but he is somewhat surprised to hear what you did and even more so to hear that something like this crossed the mind of a young girl. Is this what you meant when you said humans were survivors? Does facing down cruel choices and accepting them help your kind to keep going?

"Jenny?" a weak voice calls out.

"Coming, Mr. Dun!" The girl chimes, her voice like a bell, and smiles at you before turning towards the patients again.

At the same time, the doors of the saloon swing open, and two men in cloaks step inside. You react by turning your head to see them, and immediately you recognize the figures from your past encounters with them. A worrisome thought flashes through your head, and you use the fact that you stand farther away from the door to your advantage. Quickly, you take Knives's hand and walk around him, essentially switching places to have him with his back towards the door. His eyes peer from between the two pieces of cloth covering his face. Instead of analyzing his expression, you let go of his hand, picking up a crate of bandages from a table and handing it to him.

"Take these; we should go see what state the clinic is in and prepare to start treating those who are still on their feet." you speak casually to him, just loud enough that the men at the door could hear you.

Knives's eyes still stay on you, but it is evident that he realizes something is going on as you lean closer to his face.

"Military police," you whisper to him, putting his wide chest between yourself and the men so they wouldn't see this.

"Hello! We came to see how things were going. We've heard troubling news." One of the young men speaks up.

"Hi! Stephen!" Jenny speaks up, and you're glad she does. "Good to see you! I think things are looking up! Doc arrived last night and has already seen to all these people here! They are doing so much better than there were just last night!"

You quickly pick up a few packets of suture kits so as to not appear empty handed before heading to the door, giving Knives a knowing look, which is to mean that he should follow you and keep a low profile.

"I'm glad to see you made it, Doc!" Stephen tells you with a dashing smile as you pass him, the other man staying quiet, a dutiful look on his face. He isn't a local, unlike his partner, but he has tended to these parts for quite a few years. He's a man of few words, but his skills speak volumes.

"Good to see you two!" You force a carefree smile, hoping it shows up in your eyes. "I'd stay and chat, but my work has only just started."

You see how both of their gazes shift from you to Knives, who follows you close behind, but you don't notice any change in their expressions, and you take it to mean that they don't recognize him from the wanted posters that hang even on this saloon's walls. With a nod, you pass the men and exit into the hot midday air. You don't say a word, worried the police might get suspicious, and head down the road towards the tent.

"Hey, Doc! Dave!" A cheerful voice pipes up from behind you, and as you turn around, you see Marvin approaching on a tomas. "Just the people I hoped to see!"

"Hello, Marvin! How can I help?" you respond, and Knives remains silent.

"I got back from bartering with the nomads. I got a whole jug full of venom! They were very grateful for the supplies I traded them."

"Perfect timing. We're on our way to the tent. May I have it?"

"Of course, Doc, it's all yours." Marvin reaches down and pulls the jug from his saddlebag. You recognize the bottle as one he has previously used for storing his homemade moonshine. "I know you will put it to good use."

You take the container of cloudy liquid and look at Marvin's sorrowful eyes.

"I promise, I will" is the only response you give, a silent understanding that you both share.

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curlysgirl0202 · 3 months ago

Text

JOHNNY RINGO/READER STORY CONTINUED...

"Please come this afternoon, Johnny!" You plead.

Ringo looks at you and then turns away.

"Why do you care so much when nobody else does?" Ringo asks you. "You're running a fool's errand waiting around for someone like me."

He shakes his head, gazing at you and the innocence that surrounds you, although you endured horrors during and after the war.

"Johnny, just come for a short while?"

"Sure. Then maybe you'll learn you're wasting your time." He looks down. "You don't know what I've done..." He whispers, almost to himself.

"Johnny, I know about Quantrill! I know about you and Jesse and Frank James!"

Ringo looks at you, uncertain of what to make of your knowledge of his past.

Ringo nods slowly. "That ain't the worst part," he grumbles.

"The Hoodoo War? The Youngers? Johnny, I know. Did you know Doc Holliday is wanted in Dodge for slicing a man from his chest to his..." You put your head down.

Johnny Ringo takes a long look at you. He touches your face and rings your chin with his thumb. His large, calloused hand feels the softness of your skin. He loves the way the light catches the highlights of your hair and gold flecks sparkle in the sun. He knows at that moment, he's never seen a more beautiful woman.

"Doc has a death wish," Johnny answers, gazing at the vast frontier. "I'm sure we'll share a room in hell." Johnny's eyes are still surveying the area.

Unfamiliar emotions creep into Ringo's heart. Your softness and naive nature make him feel vulnerable and a bit uneven. He didn't want to appear weak or lovesick in front of the other Cowboys.

"Women sure are a thing of wonder!" Curly Bill declared on many occasions. "But they make a man weak!"

And Curly Bill was right; women can ease the burden of loneliness men like Ringo endured. But only for a short time and probably because they either needed to accommodate other customers or because they simply lost interest. Whores don't participate in charity and they expect to be well paid for their services.

"You should go home. You shouldn't be here," Johnny tells you, but you hear the longing in his voice. "You're too good for this place. Why would you ride out here anyway? Nothing but a bunch of smelly cowboys!"

You move closer to Johnny and to your relief, he doesn't back away.

"I wanted to know why you just left!"

"Because I'm not good enough for you! Nobody around here is."

Your heart sinks.

"No! I'm not!" You declare.

"Please keep your voice low," Johnny pleads. "I don't want them asking questions about you. Damn fools," Johnny grunts.

"Tell my why you-"

"Left?" He responds. Johnny rubs the back of his neck. "Seeing you lying there looking like some sort of forbidden fruit. You, you...You looked so perfect. So sweet and pure. How could I touch you? I don't deserve to touch you!"

"Johnny," you whisper, covering your mouth with your hand. You struggle to understand this man standing in front of you.

He cannot stand to see you in any pain or distress. "See, I told you. You hang around me, you'll get nothing but trouble. Nothing but danger and trouble will come your way!"

You begin to turn away to leave, but you know you must stand your ground. "That's why? Johnny, I wanted to be with you!"

Curly Bill stands up to stretch out and looks over at you and Johnny. He adjusts his hat and returns to working on helping Pony fix a wheel on the chuck wagon.

Johnny Ringo looks at you and your sincere words touch him deeply. His upbringing and his mother telling him over and over that he must be a good Christian gentleman.

"If you're a Christian gentleman, it will open doors for you, Johnny," his mother would say. "You must become educated and do not let the ways of the world corrupt you."

"You'll be disappointed. Like everyone else," Johnny answers.

You walk close enough to him that your bodies are almost touching.

"Just come to my home later. Please?" You plead. "Just for a visit. Without anyone there. Just us." You put your hand out and take his. He almost pulls away, but savors the softness of your touch.

Johnny nods and then turns away. "I'll be there," he sighs.

You walk fast towards Daisy. After you mount up, you shout,Giddyap, girl!" You ride fast back to your cottage and once Daisy is secure, you head into your home where you freshen yourself for Johnny Ringo. After washing up, you brush your hair, apply some lotion and body spray and wait for your cowboy.

Johnny Ringo returns to his tent. He smiles to himself briefly. Your determination to win him over touches him deeply and he wonders what you see in him. Women always seemed happy to see Johnny and his gentlemanly qualities made him a favorite with the ladies. However, those ladies were often associated with prostitution. Women of the night who offer comfort to lonely outlaws don't ask questions, don't care how much whiskey you suck back or where you come from. Keep the cash flowing and they'll show genuine concern; something Ringo can't seem to live without.

Curly Bill saunters over and flips the tent flap open. "What's that all about Juanito? Can't have a little beauty like that coming over here around these boys! She oughta know better!" Curly Bill admonishes.

"I didn't send for her," Ringo says, feeling annoyed at Curly Bill's curiosity.

"A face like hers could stop a stampede. Or start one! She's gotta know we can't have a distraction like that! You know how them boys are! Specially the Clanton's and McClaurey's!"

"Quit wagging your tongue, Bill!" Ringo barks back. "We could use something soft around here. Get a break from the stink of horse shit and you smelly cowboys!"

"You stink just as bad, there, Johnny!" Curly Bill reminds him as he swaggers back to where he was earlier. He shakes his head while walking towards the picket line of horses.

"Women..." He mumbles under his breath.

Johnny takes his boots off and shakes the dirt out. "Johnny, if the law don't catch up to you, the smell of your feet will." He changes his socks and puts his boots back on. He wants to feel and look his best for you. You deserve better than a stinky cowboy. He combs his hair and puts his hat back on.

Without saying a word, Ringo heads to the picket line. He carefully saddles his horse and heads to your quaint and modest cottage.

Johnny trots out of the Cowboys camp and rides full gallup to your home. He feels the wind in his hair and the feeling of a strong horse between his legs. He tightens his grip on the reigns.

"Giddyap!" He shouts, and spurs his horse into a run.

You can hear the sound of Johnny's horse approaching and you check your face in the mirror one last time. You rush to the front door, but decide to practice patience.

Your heart skips a beat when his knuckles tap your door.

You open it slowly. He sees you, dressed in a pink blouse and tan colored skirt and in bare feet.

He can feel his neck turn hot and flushed when he looks at you.

"Welcome, Johnny," you say softly, a shy smile decorating your face.

Johnny Ringo takes his hat off and enters your quaint home. "This is a nice little place. You must do well as a waitress."

You close the door and smile up at your cowboy.

"I do alright. Tips help."

"I'm sure you do well in that regard. Specially with the menfolk." Johnny can feel his face grow red as he regrets giving you the compliment. "I didn't mean it like that. You're just a special lady. That's all."

"I know what you meant, Johnny. No need to explain."

Johnny smiles freely and realizes how much he admires how free you are in life. You don't scoff or wait for him to explain himself. You just accept him. And understand him. Johnny rocks back and forth on his feet. He stands, with his hat in his hands.

"Here, let me take that," you say. You pull a chair out and he curses himself for not reacting sooner. He sees a vase of fresh flowers resting on your small table and he clenches his jaw. In his rush and nervousness, he didn't bring anything for you. He looks down and then back at your beautiful face.

"What's wrong, Johnny?" You inquire.

He shakes his head. "Just...I can't believe how pretty you are," he says, suddenly feeling foolish again.

You smile sweetly. He moves closer to you, his slurs echoing on the wooden floor. "Please have a seat, Johnny! Do you want some tea?"

Johnny doesn't respond right away.

"How about a little whiskey? I have some!" You annouce happily.

Johnny smiles and lowers his head, feeling a little foolish that he'd rather have whiskey than tea.

"Please have a seat!" You say. Johnny watches you move around the kitchen, smooth in your bare feet.

You grab two plates, two glasses and a bottle of whiskey. You then reach up and take a freshly baked pie from the cupboard.

"I hope you're hungry! I baked a pie very early this morning."

Johnny adjusts himself in his chair and watches you play the hostess so gracefully. You cut two slices, lick your thumb and place the dishes in front of you both. You take a bite and then Johnny, feeling awkward, picks up the fork and takes a bite. The sweetest of the pie, mixed with hints of cinnamon and butter melt in his mouth. He savors the richness of the dessert and slowly sips his whiskey.

"It's really tasty," Johnny remarks, causing you to smile.

"Thank you!" Through the open window, you can hear the whinnying of the horses and you get a wiff of the sweet aroma of wildflowers that flow through the soft afternoon breeze. A relaxed feeling washes over Johnny Ringo in a way he's not familiar with. He takes another bite of pie.

"Hard to believe a woman like you isn't settled," Johnny tells you. "You're a hard working lady. And you can bake." Johnny takes the last bite of his pie. "Hard to believe you're not attached."

Johnny suddenly cringes, feeling awkward. "I didn't mean it like that," he finishes. He takes a sip of whiskey and glares out the window.

"It's just, you're different...I could see that when you were serving us. Curly Bill likes to get a rise out of people." He finishes off his pie and pushes the plate aside.

"More?" You ask, licking your fingers in an almost child-like manner. Ringo lowers his head and grins.

Why is she not with anyone?

He shakes his head. "Maybe I'll take a piece back to camp," he says. "All the boys will be jealous," he attempts to lighten the mood.

"Curly Bill did say he was sorry," you mention.

"Yeah, old Curly just talks. He prefers it when people are afraid of him. He likes throwing his weight around. And often, people move out of his way. But then there's someone like you who just offers kindness. It's not something we Cowboys are used to."

You smile, remembering how nervous and out of place Curly Bill looked when he apologized to you.

"At least he was decent," you say.

"Curly Bill is one of the toughest and bravest men I know. And he's loyal as all hell. He's skeptical of any kindness. Especially from a beautiful woman," Johnny blushes, but doesn't care.

"Curly Bill Brocius is someone who can make you laugh when you're down."

You nod your head, showing you can picture that about the old rustler.

"He wants to settle down someday. He's talked about that. A part of him may be envious I'm seeing you." Ringo smiles. "He thinks he's a lady's man. And sometimes he does lay that old charm down. But mostly he's just as awkward as any cowboy." Johnny lets out a sigh. "He'll always have your back. He's damn loyal and he demands loyalty in return." Johnny adjusts himself in his seat. "I promise he didn't mean any harm."

"I've had my reconciliation with Curly Bill and he was quite the gentleman about it. In fact, I was surprised considering how gruff he was during our first encounter." You draw circles around your plate. "I'm glad he said something."

"Curly's not all bad. He's just got an odd way of showing his feelings." Ringo scratches the back of his neck. "He's someone I can always count on that's for sure."

"Sounds like you two are close," you say, playing with your pie slice, poking it with your fork.

"Yeah, you could say that," Johnny answers.

"This place. This territory. It's really not safe for someone like you." Johnny tells you while he's fumbling with the fork.

"I plan on staying," you tell Johnny. He nods.

"I believe that about you," he answers. "You're a brave lady. Coming out here by yourself."

"Josephine Marcus did it," you respond.

"She came with a theater troupe. And she's a whore." Johnny sucks back his whiskey.

"I..." Johnny says your name. "I'm sorry. You're a lady. I shouldn't talk like that. Josephine isn't a lady..." Johnny says, gazing out the window at the sound of his horse.

You lower your head. You've seen Josephine and how she vies for attention from the Cowboys. Although they enjoy the company of a beautiful and sophisticated woman, Josephine always seemed more childish; a woman who simply lives in the moment, waiting for the next big adventure...Or man to help finance her lifestyle even though her father often sent her money. Her appetite for the finer things hungered for lavish gifts, dresses and jewelry. Johnny notices the striking contrast between you and Josephine; Josie's goals include enjoying life and multiple relationships, sometimes at one time. You see the world through the lens of loss and longing. You long for the calm of nature, the babbling of a brook or stream, the way the sunlight dances on the water in the middle of the day. These things set you apart from women like Josie, who wouldn't want to waste her time hiking or reading about fossils like you do. You find joy in simplicity and Johnny Ringo adores you for that.

"Isn't she with Wyatt?" You inquire.

Ringo shakes his head. "I don't know. I think she's playing Behan and Earp. Although I'm no fan of the Earps, Wyatt is a better man than Behan. I don't dislike Josephine. I don't trust loose women."

You nod your head. You came into Tombstone alone and the rumor circulating included the fact that you didn't have a man at all...Or maybe the men of Tombstone just hoped that was the case.

Johnny sighs and looks at you. You're drawing shapes on the table with your finger, waiting for the awkward silence to end when you think of something to say.

"Are you planning on staying in town long?" He finally manages to ask.

"As long as I can. I'm lucky I got a place to rent at least. I was getting tired of staying at the hotel although it was convenient for work."

"As for me, I sleep under the stars like most cowboys," Johnny answers, almost embarrassed that he sleeps in a tent while you're renting a cottage.

"It's not that I don't or want..." He fumbles with his words. "I guess I prefer the open range to the confinements of a room."

"Well, if you're driving cows, you don't have a choice." You tell him.

"Yep..." He agrees, ashamed to tell you the cows he drives are stolen. He dismisses it for a moment, simply wanting to enjoy you and your company.

"It ain't all bad," Johnny says, wiping his mustache. "It's actually peaceful sleeping under the stars. Even when we got a bunkhouse, most of Curly's boys still prefer a bedroll out in the open."

"Well, I've certainly spent nights in the cold too. Especially right after the Yankees burned everything." You let out a sigh. You also dismiss your memory in exchange for some time with Johnny Ringo.

"Would you like another slice of pie, Johnny?" You ask.

Johnny looks at you for a moment, just taking in your beauty. "No, ma'am," he answers.

Johnny Ringo begins to feel awkward. He shifts in his seat. His eyes wander away for a moment and when they return to you, a sadness shows in them. Johnny lets out a long sigh.

You begin clearing the plates and tea cups.

"Would you like some more whiskey?" You ask.

Johnny nods.

"You're a beautiful woman," Johnny declares, feeling his face grow red from embarrassment.

"Thank you, Johnny!" You answer, feeling elated.

"Not just that." Johnny looks down at the empty shot glass. You fill it and he puts his fingers on the rim. "Thank you," he says sincerely and softly.

"You're welcome." You respond.

"Not just that. You're a special lady," Johnny contio, feeling a bit more confident.

You lower your head and chuckle.

"It's true," he tells you. He's tempted to reach out and take your hand, but doesn't want to seem too forward.

"Johnny, you too," you answer.

Johnny almost laughs out loud. "I don't feel so special," he admits.

"I reckon you don't think so. I can see that in your eyes, Johnny."

He quickly turns away from you, his shame falling over him. He rode with Bloody Bill Anderson and killed a Yankee soldier who was younger than himself. Ringo will never forget the sense of shame and sadness he felt when he saw that Yankee kid die. Johnny Ringo can feel his fear and guilt weigh down on him. So much so, he wouldn't be able to stand if he wanted to.

He was just a kid...Ringo thinks.

And Quantrill shouted for me to fire my pistol. I didn't care if I missed or what Quantrill would do as an admonishment for my bad aim...So, I fired it right into his chest. I swear I saw his ribs burst out! Ringo rages in his mind all while staying stoic...

He shakes his head. "I wasn't always..." He says your name, while he sucks back his guilt.

What did those Yankees do to you?! You scream in your mind.

Johnny starts to shift uncomfortably in his seat. He cannot comprehend why a woman like yourself works as a waitress in one of the toughest boom towns in the west. And why you chose to risk so much when you could be enjoying life with a husband who can provide you with everything you deserve.

Ringo shakes his head.

"A Union soldier came to our farm dressed in a Confederate uniform," you begin. "After we fed him, he revealed himself and proceeded to gather whatever he wanted from my mother." You gaze down at the table.

Johnny's gaze meets the floor and then he looks back at you. The way your eyes light up and the sweet smile on your face tell a different story. A story where none of those atrocious things happened to you... Because when Johnny Ringo looks at you, he sees the light in your eyes burn with a resilience he felt he lost.

"How'd you keep smiling?" Johnny asks. "Everyone I know is downright bitter. Having to start over so many damn times." Ringo clears his throat. "No offense, ma'am." His gentlemanly manner shows at that moment. His respect for you is so strong, he doesn't want to cuss in front of you!

You smile and begin to move your hand towards his. When you touch his hand, he quickly jerks it away, his feelings of inadequacy keeping him from enjoying this moment. He sees the look of disappointment in your eyes and he curses himself.

"I didn't mean anything, Johnny," you say, your voice is full of genuine concern.

He shifts again and looks down at the table.

Johnny sighs. He doesn't feel worthy of your touch...

Curly Bill wouldn't hesitate with you, Ringo thinks. If old Curly knew a lovely lady like yourself showed any interest, the old rustler would be laying on the charm!

"I've taken up enough of your afternoon," Johnny says, slowly getting up, feeling the sting of being forced to leave your presence.

"No, please stay, Johnny," you plead, that genuine concern he loves in your voice.

Ringo looks at you and can't believe someone so special would desire his company. He lets out a small, but hopeful smile.

"You don't give up easily, do you?" He asks, almost smirking.

"No," you answer. Then you shake your head. "I'm a rebel like you," you say softly.

"Reckon that's something we have in common!" Johnny answers, feeling slightly more comfortable.

You reach your hand out and this time he takes it ..

He can't believe how soft your hands feel in his rough and calloused ones. He recalls the time he enjoyed intimacy with you and he can feel the tugging of his shame on his heart.

You pour two glasses of whiskey and you lift your glass and say, "here's to you, Johnny Ringo!"

Johnny smirks and takes a drink. Then he lifts his glass and says, "here's to the most beautiful woman I've ever met." He clinks his glass and sips his whiskey, wishing he never said that.

Johnny Ringo begins to feel tipsy. He worries he may lose control with a woman like yourself. Because he can feel the effects of the rotgut whiskey, he starts to fear he will quickly lose control. He clenches his fists and tries to regain his self control, all maintaining a stoic demeanor.

"Johnny," your voice is full of sincere gratitude.

"It's true. I can't imagine why you'd want to waste your time with someone like me." Johnny finishes his whiskey and glances out the window. He's torn between wanting to leave and feel the safety of solitude and the other part of him wants to take you in his arms and kiss you...Then make love to you. He wants to feel your body trembling against his while he brings you pleasure. When he visualizes having you in an intimate setting, he becomes overwhelmingly aroused; he also experiences a strong sense of shame for seeing you in such an intimate setting.

Johnny stands up and barely manages to release the words:

I should go...

You stand in front of the Shakespearean quoting gunfighter. You're no stranger to adversity and as a proud Confederate, you saw your world sink to its knees and everything your family built dissolved in just a matter of hours when those dirty Yankees plowed through the villages.

Your eyes lock with Johnny's and the two of you move close. Johnny Ringo pulls you close and lifts your chin. He slowly and smoothly with the overwhelming touch of a gentleman kisses you.

You wrap your arms around him the two of you fall into a sweet embrace. Johnny sees a million stars while kissing you!

For the first time in what seems like forever, Johnny Ringo feels a peace wash over him; the dam that blocked his heart breaking down from your genuine love for him. When the two of you pull away, his eyes lock with yours.

"You're something else, you know that?" His soft voice flows through your welcoming ears.

An overwhelming sensation floods your soul and you find it difficult to speak. "Johnny," you whisper.

Johnny says your name while he removes a strand of hair away from your face.

"You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen," he says softly, kissing your forehead.

"I think I should head back before Curly Bill's crew starts wondering," he says with longing in his voice.

"Please don't go," you plead.

Johnny sighs, feeling his manliness throbbing. All he wants to do is make love to you, but he's torn. His tendencies to value women creeps in and he refuses to treat you like a chippie or a prostitute. He would like to plan a special encounter with you that includes the respect you so richly deserve.

Johnny looks down at you.

"I promise I'll be back." He says firmly. "And," he begins, holding his hat in his hands. "If you see me on the street, you don't need to talk to me...I wouldn't want anyone thinking anything about you that isn't true." He looks down in shame. For you to remain discreet because of him causes him great discomfort.

"I'll be very proud to speak to you," you answer.

Johnny blinks, not believing your words...He stands and looks at you.

"You would?" He asks.

"Of course I would!" You respond with that smile he loves!

Johnny smirks, still not believing the perseverance you've demonstrated. Most women wouldn't handle themselves with the grace and integrity you do. And to tolerate Curly Bill's harshness only to accept his sincere apology shows the depth of your care.

"That means a lot...More than you know. But for your own safety, be careful. They'll be plenty of folks out to tell you to stay away from me." His eyes grow sad again. He takes your hands and almost absent mindedly kisses them. Your heart soars. Then you take his hands and kiss his knuckles. He tries to pull away, almost in shame. His hands killed...His hands shoveled manure, robbed and rustled cows.

"You don't have to do that..." He says, his voice fading to a whisper. He pulls his hands away in shame.

"I want to," you respond.

He shakes his head while gazing at the floor.

"You're really special, you know that?" He finally says. "You really care, don't you?" Johnny Ringo feels a warmth flow through his body, so comforting, he feels unsettled and confused. His heart wrestles with the powerful emotions you stirred in him.

Johnny gazes into your eyes, the raw emotions flooding through him. He cannot recall a time when he felt safe, warm and welcome. He longs for your touch and the softness you demonstrate. He imagines touching your soft skin, letting his fingers explore your body while he takes his time soaking in your beauty, kindness and grace.

To your surprise, Johnny pulls you close, cups your face and kisses you passionately. You wrap your arms around him and the two of you become lost in the purity of the moment. He pulls away and kisses your forehead.

"Thank you," he whispers.

Johnny looks into your eyes with his intense gaze telling you if he stays, he may lose control...You nod. He mounts his horse, tips his hat to you and rides into town for some whiskey.

You look out the window and breathe in the fresh air. You ruffle your hair and smile to yourself. You embrace your small triumph that you got Johnny Ringo, the deadliest gunfighter since Cole Younger to drop his guard just long enough for a kiss. You can still feel his lips on yours and the softness of his mustache, the aroma.a of horses in his clothes and the way he looked into your eyes when he said, "thank you..."

You let out a chuckle to yourself. Then you head outside to take care of Daisy.

"Hey girl... Guess what?" You ask, nudging her nose. "He kissed me..." You brush her coat and change her water and spend the rest of your day off planting in your garden and doing laundry. All before you take a bath and prepare for your day back at work tomorrow.

While you busy yourself planting carrots, peas, potatoes, green beans and onions, Ringo walks with his signature gait towards the Dragoon Saloon.

"Evening, Ringo," drawls Buckskin Pete while he fills glasses for thirsty customers. Buckskin answers to a few names; Buck, Buckskin and Pete.

"Whiskey," Ringo says, his voice just a bit lighter.

Buckskin Pete glances over, noticing the subtle change in Ringo's demeanor. "You're looking a little flushed, cowboy, what's with that? Better be careful you don't show it too much 'round here. Folks'll be wondering why you ain't somber." Buckskin pours whiskey.

"Nevermind, Buck," Johnny answers. "Just been in the sun too long."

"Zat so?" Buckskin answers, spitting on the floor. Ringo glances over. "There's a spittoon for that. You really gotta spit on your own floor?" Ringo shakes his head.

"Hell, it ain't no matter. Most folks miss that damn bucket anyhow. Ain't nothing..." His voice fades to a whisper while his greedy fingers grab the pennies and quarters Ringo put on the bar.

"Got a new chippie," Pete says, sticking a half chewed cigar in his mouth. He gnaws the cigar while he takes more orders for whiskey and beer.

"I ain't interested, Pete," Johnny answers, staring into his glass. He begins to feel that familiar dark sensation creep through his body like a damn curse. He lowers his head and remembers he didn't feel that darkness at all while with you...

"You ain't even seen her yet. Come all the way from New Orleans. That don't make no damn sense." Pete shakes his head.

Does it really show? Ringo thinks to himself...The time he spent with you clearly shows on his face. He cannot recall a time when he felt more alive than when he kissed you. At the same time, the last thing he wants is for folks to see him going soft. Enemies can sense when a man starts to lose his tough edge and nothing can weaken a man more than a beautiful woman...

"Aw, come on son," Buckskin answers. "Her name is Selena. She's been busy giving boys like you a taste of home sweet home. Hell, she'll make ya feel human again!"

Johnny sucks back his whiskey. "I said no, Mr."

"Suit yourself, cowboy. Y'all missing out!"

No I'm not... There's no one like YN..." Ringo says to himself.

Johnny puts a few coins on the bar, adjusts his hat and leaves. Your face appears whenever he closes his eyes. He smiles to himself while walking to the livery.

He saddles his horse and heads back to camp.

"There he is!" Ike Clanton drawls, stumbling, holding a bottle of whiskey.

Johnny dismounts at the picket line and moves toward his tent.

"You all done with that little cunt we saw earlier?" Ike takes another swig of whiskey.

Before Ike can say anything else, Ringo throws a punch at the smaller cowboy. Ike stumbles backwards. He shakes his head to get his bearings.

"What the hell that for?" Ike groans.

"You ever talk about her like that again, I'll kill you, Ike!" Johnny growls.

"Calm down, Ringo!" Ike snaps, holding his cheek and wiping blood from his lips. Billy Clanton rushes over and helps Ike to his feet. Johnny stands almost motionless, ready for a confrontation. Your beauty burned on his brain softens him minorly. He knows he can bust Ike up on Ike's best day.

"Go easy, Ringo!" Billy Clanton barks.

"Stay out of this!" Johnny grunts. Johnny's intense and dark gaze pierces both Clanton brothers. The boys back away, knowing how unpredictable Johnny can be, especially when a woman is involved.

Curly Bill, along with McMasters and Stilwell swagger over.

"What the hell's going on here?!" Curly Bill shouts.

"Y'all cool off!"

Johnny's eyes stab Curly Bill with such intensity, Curly Bill adjusts his hat and puts his hands on his hips.

Curly Bill signals for the Clanton's to back away, they retreat towards the chuck wagon. Stilwell and McMasters look at Curly Bill, curious as to how he'll handle the situation. Their gazes move from Ringo to Curly.

"That's what women do," Curly Bill begins. "Especially a beautiful one like her. They make a man lose his head real quick."

"Enough, Bill," Ringo answers. Without looking at anyone, Johnny heads to his tent. Thoughts of you whirl through his mind. He can see you eating pie with him, your sweet smile breaking his walls down and oh, that kiss! Johnny composes himself and retreats to his tent. He can feel his body throbbing and he closes his eyes while sitting up, looking out the open flap. He imagines you riding into camp and surprising him by sneaking into his tent. The two of you make love without guilt or shame. He can feel your warm body close to his and he knows he needs to relieve himself at some point.

When everyone is sleeping, Johnny begins to decompress his insatiable appetite. While he massages himself, he sees your face through a frame of exploding stars. He relives the moment of the kiss you shared before he feels an explosion of ecstasy. Johnny suddenly feels guilty for participating in such an act, but you have driven him to a place where he feels wonderfully helpless to stop your pursuit of him. He carefully cleans himself up and falls into a deep sleep.

The morning sun bathes you while you sleep and you stir at the sound of Daisy whinnying in her stable. You slowly rise and stretch, making some coffee and engaging in your morning routine.

After Daisy enjoys her oats, you brush her down. You wonder what work Daisy did before as quarter horses were usually for work; in fact they were favored by cowboys.

"It's happening, girl!" You whisper. Once Daisy is hitched and ready, you head to work for the breakfast rush.

When you get to work, you notice Big Nellie stroking the back of one of the customers while she helps herself to the leftovers in his plate. You roll your eyes and wonder how a woman could let herself go like that.

Fatty emerges from the kitchen, holding three steaming plates of eggs and hotcakes. He places the dishes on the table, mops his face with his apron and nods at you.

"Thank goodness you're here!" Fatty exclaims. "Been busier than usual! And of course Big Nellie does nothing! Nothing but eat the leftovers! She eats the free chuck and Emmett wonders "why am I losing money?!" Fatty shakes his head and scurries back into the kitchen. You put your things away and prepare yourself.

"What can I get you?" You stand before a group of men you're unfamiliar with.

"Name's Morton," one of the men declares.

You nod,. smile and take your pencil and pad out.

"What can I get you gentleman?" You ask, ready to take their orders.

"You can start by getting us some coffee! We'll all take the same. Three orders of steak , eggs, biscuits. We'd like some honey on them biscuits!" Morton demands.

You take their orders and head to the kitchen.

Fatty looks at the dining room. "Mary, mother of all that is holy!" Fatty grasps the necklace he wears around his neck.

Morton, the same man who helped LG Murphy shoot and kill John Tunstall. The man who targeted Tunstall's regulators after Tunstall died.

"What's wrong, Fatty?" You ask

"That man...He and LG Murphy destroyed Lincoln County," Fatty lowers his shaking head.

#tombstone movie #tombstone cowboys #johnny ringo stories #johnny ringo fanfiction stories #curly bill teaches #curly Bill Tombstone movie #Johnny Ringo Tombstone movie stories #stories about Johnny Ringo from Tombstone #tombstone movie fanfiction stories

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crazycurly-77 · 3 months ago

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Lost in the Jungle - pt. 8

“What did you do in Ecuador?” your boyfriend asked as you all were finally up in the air and on your way home.

Thankfully the painkillers from Ducky which Jethro gave you were starting to take effect and it was such a great relief that the pain was finally lessening.

You've been waiting for this question, but unfortunately you couldn't answer it for him, no matter how much you wanted to.

“He must have been going through hell the last few days and hours,” you thought as he looked at you with a worried, relieved, but also questioning look.

You felt guilty because he had to endure such fear of loss because of you and you couldn't even tell him why you were here. Hopefully he would understand this based on his own experiences. You would certainly have trouble with it yourself.

“I'm sorry, but I can't tell you. The mission is classified. But at least it was successful,” you answered as best as you could.

Gibbs only hung his head, nodded and then mumbled “at least you are back at my side.”

You grabbed his hand and squeezed it. Smiling at him you answered softly “thanks to you.” He locked eyes with you and smiled back.

He wished very much that he knew what this mission was, but since it's classified there was no chance of knowing. He knew that from his own missions.

So you both sat in silence, holding hands and followed your own thoughts.

Tim was silent as well. He didn't want to disturb this moment of familiarity and intimacy between you.

After landing in D.C. you said goodbye to Stan and Olli and then Gibbs, Tim and you were on your way to the hospital.

Arriving there you were taken to the examination room and Gibbs and Tim had to stay outside during the examination.

While they were waiting, Gibbs called Tony “DiNozzo. We're back in D.C. We found her and she's being examined in the Bethesda hospital at the moment.”

“Wonderful! I'll tell the others and then come to you,” Tony answered excitedly and Gibbs hung up.

The exam didn't take long, but for your boyfriend and your best friend, it took what felt like an eternity.

And before long you were brought outside in a wheelchair with your left lower leg in a plaster cast.

Immediately they came to you “what's up? Everything okay?”

“Yes,” the doc replied. “She has a few scratches and bruises and a broken leg, but nothing that will not heal given time.

We'll keep her here overnight for observation and you can take her home tomorrow. But the plaster must remain for the next 6 weeks. If you'll excuse me now, I need to check on my other patients. Her room number is 212, if you would be kind enough to take her there.”

Gibbs nodded and drove you to your room. On your way you chatted with Tim the whole time and as the three of you arrived there, both helped you into bed.

Tim went to get an additional pillow for you, so Jethro and you could talk in private.

He sat on your bed, held your hand, squeezed it and watched you lovingly. You watched him equally smitten and mumbled full of love “thank you for rescuing me.”

He smiled and answered softly “I would do it again and again, because I don't know what to do without you. But please, don't scare me so much again.”

His heartbroken look made your heart fly out to him. So you sat up, cupped his cheek and kissed him passionately and he immediately responded to you.

Right in this blissful and intimate moment the door swung open and Jenny, Abby and Ducky walked into the room. Of course Tony walked in first and saw you both kissing.

Tim ran hurriedly behind them into the room and said apologetically “I'm sorry boss. I tried to stop them.”

Embarrassed, you leaned your head on Gibbs’ chest while he laid his chin on your head frustrated, wrapped you in his arms, sighed because of the interruption and just answered “it's okay, McGee.”

Everyone was standing in the room, didn't move and didn't say a word, but looked very amazed at you two.

You just hoped that Tony would once in a lifetime cease to make jokes, but no. That wouldn't be Tony.

Of course, he had to say what everyone was probably thinking “wow, did I see what I think I saw?” he asked the obvious excitedly.

Your head turned hot red, you looked down at your hands and mumbled shyly “Uhm, yes.”

He leaned on the foot of your bed “so you and our boss?” he wiggled with his eyebrows.

“Uhm, yeah” you answered grinning.

Then Gibbs joined the conversation and simply stated warningly “DiNozzo.”

But Tony didn't let up “since when has this been going on between you two?”

Gibbs answered directly, “6 months.”

You were shocked about him blabbing about this and squealed “Jethro!”

He just looked at you, shrugged his shoulders and reasoned “let them know, they are family.”

Then Tony raised his hands in surrender and said “okay, okay. We just came to say hello and watch how you are doing, Y/N.

And we have found out what happened.

More specifically, why you were shot down and by whom.”

(To be continued...in Chapter 9 - the last!!!)

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Here you will find the other chapters of this story and the other stories I've written to date.

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Tags: @ilovemark1951, @hobby27

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#ncis #jethro gibbs x reader #gibbs #leroy jethro gibbs #gibbs x reader #leroy jethro gibbs x reader #ncis fanfiction

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art-by-jas · 19 days ago

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𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒂 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌 𝒕𝒐𝒐, 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅.

Sᥙmmᥲrყ: After your discharge from the hospital, your grandmother has the hots for Dr. Halstead. Meanwhile, Sonny is on the phone with Liv, and the two of you and your grandmother are enjoying a nice lunch that Sonny cooked alongside her.

Shivering, Sonny pulls his coat tighter around him as he power-jogs towards the hospital entrance, clutching the flowers he bought at the airport. The emergency department only has a few stragglers and a couple of people waiting to be seen by a doctor.

Sensing his urgency, the woman at the front desk immediately asks, "Are you looking for someone?" Her kind tone and concerned expression indicate she recognizes the man's anxiety.

Sonny says your name anxiously, and the woman can see the tension in his demeanor.

"She is in this room right over here. First, let me assure you that she is fine - she managed to escape with a few nasty cuts and bruises, as well as a broken leg and ankle. She'll need to rest for quite a while, but the doctors are attending to her and shouldn't be much longer. If you need anything, just ask for Maggie - that's me.” As Maggie relays the news, Sonny listens intently.

Nodding appreciatively, Sonny expresses his gratitude to Maggie in a voice thick with emotion. "I appreciate it, Maggie. Thank you."

Sonny takes a deep breath and steps back into the room where you lie in the hospital bed, propped up by pillows. Your eyes are closed, and you appear calm and peaceful. Sonny pauses, his gaze fixed on you - a mix of relief and worry etched on his face. Slowly, he approaches the bed, his soft footsteps echoing on the tiled floor.

Reaching the bedside, Sonny takes a seat in the nearby chair, his eyes trained on your sleeping form. Gently, he reaches out and takes your hand in his, his grip firm and protective. For a few moments, he watches the steady rise and fall of your chest, the simple rhythm soothing his nerves.

Sonny turns his head at the sound of the opening curtains and sees the man, presumably the doctor. He releases your hand, stands up from his seat, and extends his hand to the doctor. "Hey Doc," he says, his voice filled with weariness. "I'm guessing you're here to me about her condition?"

The doctor shakes Sonny's hand firmly. "Yes, I'm Dr. Halstead," He nods toward you, a hint of a smile on his lips. "She's doing fine, all things considered. She's a tough one."

Sonny's face was a mix of relief and worry as he nodded. "Yeah, she's tough," he replied, his eyes flicking back to you. "But how is she? Maggie, out there said she broke her leg and ankle."

Dr. Halstead's expression turned serious as he nodded. "Yes, that's correct. She has a broken leg and ankle, and she's in a lot of pain. We've put her on medication to help manage that. She also has some minor cuts and bruises, but nothing too serious." He paused, meeting Sonny's gaze. "She should make a full recovery, but it will take time."

A mix of emotions flooded Sonny's mind. He felt relieved to hear the positive prognosis, but the thought of you in pain and immobilized weighed heavily on him. The exhaustion from the flight was starting to set in, and he rubbed a hand over his face.

Concerned by Sonny's weary expression, Dr. Halstead offers him a compassionate smile. "You look like you could use a break too, my friend," he says, giving Sonny's back a reassuring pat. "She should be waking up soon. Why don't you go grab a cup of coffee and come back?" Sonny hesitates, reluctant to leave your side, but acknowledges the doctor's wisdom. He needs a moment to compose himself and gather his thoughts. Nodding tiredly, Sonny gives your hand one final gentle squeeze before departing.

Sonny nods in agreement, his voice low. "Sounds good, Doc." Dr. Halstead responds with an understanding nod, and Sonny exits the room, making his way to the hospital's cafeteria.

The aroma of the cup of coffee Sonny grabs from the cafeteria fills his nostrils as he takes a sip of the hot liquid, slowly bringing him back to life. Although, he misses the way you made it. Leaning against the wall, he scrolls through messages on his phone, seeing texts from Fin and Rollins wishing him well and asking for updates. Sonny smiles faintly at their concern and quickly types a reply, assuring them that you're doing okay. Feeling slightly better, he checks the time and decides it is time to head back to your room. Tossing his empty cup, Sonny exits the cafeteria and makes his way back.

He makes his way back to your room, his steps quick and purposeful. As he enters, he sees you stirring in your bed, your eyes beginning to flutter open.

"Hey," Sonny says softly, his voice filled with relief. "You awake?" He walks over to your bedside, taking a seat on the chair nearby.

You open your eyes slowly, taking in your surroundings. At the sight of Sonny, a flicker of surprise and confusion crosses your face. "Sonny..." you say weakly, your voice hoarse. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you, of course," Sonny replies, a hint of a smile on his lips. He reaches over and takes your hand in his, his grip firm and warm.

Disoriented from the medication, you mutter, "But... how did you...? You flew all the way to Chicago?"

Sonny's gaze never wavers from your face as he nods. "Yeah, I did. I couldn't just sit by while you were hurt." He gently squeezes your hand, his touch conveying his concern and affection.

You look at Sonny, your eyes reflecting a mix of surprise and gratitude. "You didn't have to do that," you murmur weakly.

"I know I didn't have to," Sonny replies firmly. "But I wanted to." He soothingly strokes the back of your hand with his thumb.

You blink wearily, your eyes fluttering shut momentarily. When you reopen them, a faint smile plays on your lips. "Thank you," you whisper hoarsely. "For coming all this way."

Sonny's heart swells at your words. He leans in, resting his elbows on the edge of your bed. "Of course," he replies earnestly. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be."

You pause, wincing slightly as a wave of pain washes over you. "How bad do I look?" you ask, a hint of humor in your voice.

Sonny chuckled softly at your question. "Honestly, you look a bit rough," he teased lightly. You let out a small laugh, but it quickly turned into a wince as the movement aggravated your injuries. "Ow," you said, grimacing in pain. "Laughing hurts."

Sonny's expression immediately shifted to one of concern, and he tightened his grip on your hand slightly. "Hey, take it easy," he said gently. "No more laughing for now, okay?"

Sonny watches as an older woman, your grandmother enters the room, healed from her trip to the hospital a few days ago, and begins to scold you, her voice tinged with a mix of frustration and relief. "For goodness sake!" she exclaims. "You gave us the fright of our lives. What were you thinking, getting yourself mixed up in a train derailment?!"

Sonny has heard stories about your feisty grandmother from you, but seeing her in person is a whole different experience. A mixture of amusement and surprise plays across his face as he observes the exchange between you and your grandmother.

Your grandmother's attention shifts to Sonny, her expression softening. With a curious raise of her eyebrow, she asks, "And who might you be, young man?"

Sonny rises from his seat and greets your grandmother with a friendly smile. "I'm Sonny Carisi, ma'am," he says, extending his hand. "I'm a friend of your granddaughter, and I've heard a lot about you."

Your grandmother takes his hand in a firm shake. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Sonny," she says with a slight nod. "I've heard a bit about you too," she adds, a sly smile on her lips. Sonny raises an eyebrow, curious about what she might have heard. He glances at you. Sonny relaxes a little, "So, how are you really feeling?" he asks, his voice gentle.

You attempt to shift in the bed, wincing as the pain shoots through your body. "Like I got hit by a train," you joke weakly, a small smirk playing on your lips.

Sonny rolls his eyes, but can't help but chuckle at your attempt at humor. "Very funny," he says, a hint of sarcasm in his tone. "But seriously, how much pain are you in?"

You pause for a moment, contemplating the honesty of your response. "It hurts," you admit, "but I'll manage."

Your grandmother informs you, "The handsome doctor says you can be discharged soon, but then you'll need to rest in bed, my dear."

You grimace at the prospect of extended bed rest. "Bed rest? That sounds boring," you groan, wincing as another pain shoots through your leg.

"Now, no complaining," your grandmother scolds gently. "You need to let those injuries heal properly, even if it means being bored for a while."

Your grandma turned to Sonny. "And where will you be staying, young man?"

Sonny looks a bit surprised but answers readily, "I planned to stay at a nearby hotel."

Your grandmother purses her lips, clearly dissatisfied with the response. "Nonsense," she says firmly. "You're coming to stay with us. We won't let you waste money on an overpriced hotel when you can sleep comfortably in our home."

Sonny opens his mouth to object, but the expression on your grandmother's face silences him. He glances at you, silently seeking your approval.

With a subtle nod, you silently agree with your grandmother's stance. "Sonny, you might as well concede," you say wearily. "You know you can't win this argument against her." Sonny sighs in resignation, acknowledging your point. He turns back to your grandmother and relents. "Well, if you're certain it won't be too much trouble..." he begins.

Your grandmother firmly shakes her head. "Of course, it's no trouble," she assures. "We're happy to have you. Now that's settled, I'll get the discharge paperwork started." With that, she exits, leaving you and Sonny alone again.

Sonny watches your grandmother depart, then turns his attention back to you. He returns to the chair, taking a seat with a small, amused smile. "Your grandmother is quite a character," he remarks.

You offer a weary smile, "you have no idea," you murmur. "But she means well, even if she can be a little... intense at times."

Sonny chuckles, his gaze locked on you. "Yeah, I can see that," he agrees. "And it's clear she adores you."

Shifting slightly in the bed, you let out a small sigh. "She does, and I know she'll be a real nag about my recovery."

Sonny reaches out and gently takes your hand, his touch firm yet tender. "I think that's what grandmothers are for," he says softly, a hint of admiration in his voice.

Your eyes flutter shut as you savor the sensation of his hand in yours. "I guess you're right," you murmur, your voice growing weary.

After a moment, you ask, "How long until you have to go back to your job?"

Sonny ponders the question briefly. "Not yet," he replies a note of relief in his tone. "I managed to take a few days off."

A wave of gratitude washes over you, and you gently squeeze Sonny's hand. "Thank you, Sonny," you whisper, your voice sincere. "You didn't have to do that."

"Of course, I didn't have to," Sonny replies firmly. "But I wanted to. Like I said, I care about you." He tenderly brushes a strand of hair from your forehead.

"Yeah? I think I care about you too, Sonny," you admit.

Sonny's heart skips a beat at your words, and a wide smile spreads across his face. "Yeah?" he repeats, a hint of disbelief in his voice. "You do?"

“Yep, and it's not the pain meds talking... or at least I don't think." You joke.

Sonny's eyes sparkle with affection as he chuckles softly. "I certainly hope it's not just the pain meds talking," he replies warmly, gently running his thumb over the back of your hand.

"It's not, I swear," you assure him, your voice soft yet earnest. "I've been thinking about you a lot, even before this whole… Mess."

Sonny's eyebrows shoot up in pleasant surprise. "Really?" he asks, his tone betraying a hint of disbelief. "What were you thinking about, if you don't mind me asking?"

You give a weak shrug, "Just... stuff, you know," you say evasively, a faint blush spreading across your cheeks. "How kind you are, how much I enjoy spending time with you... that sort of thing."

Sonny's smile widens, his heart swelling with warmth. "Is that right?" he asks, his voice tinged with playful teasing. "I thought you were just using me for my good looks."

You let out a feeble chuckle, the effort causing a slight wince. "Oh, don't get me wrong," you reply, playing along. "Your good looks are a major bonus."

Sonny laughs out loud at your quip, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Well, I'm glad to know I have a few selling points," he says, a sly grin on his face. "But seriously, it means a lot that you feel that way about me. Because I've been thinking about you too."

Your heart skips a beat at his confession, and a soft smile graces your lips. "Have you?" you ask, a hint of hope in your voice.

Sonny nods, his expression serious yet warm. "All the time," he admits earnestly. "Ever since that almost-kiss in the hallway of our apartment, I've found myself thinking about you - at work, at home... you're just always on my mind."

Your heart swells at his words, a mix of joy and tenderness washing over you. "I know the feeling," you murmur, your voice softening. "Seems like we're both a little smitten with each other, huh?"

Sonny grins at your words, his gaze fixed on your face. "Seems that way," he agrees, his voice tinged with satisfaction. "And I gotta say, I'm not complaining."

You chuckle weakly, the effort sending a twinge of pain through you. "Me neither," you reply, wincing slightly. "But I have to say, this isn't how I imagined us confessing our feelings."

Sonny lets out a light-hearted huff, his eyes filled with worry at your discomfort. "Yeah, not my ideal scenario either," he admits, his hand still holding yours. "But we can't control everything in life, can we?"

Dr. Halstead comes into the room with your grandma in tow. "Time to get you out of here."

Sonny glances up at the doctor, a tinge of concern in his eyes. "Is she really okay to leave already?" he asks, looking back at you.

Dr. Halstead nods, a reassuring smile on his face. "She's stable enough to leave," he replies. "As long as she gets plenty of rest and takes it easy for a while, she should heal just fine."

Sonny nods, placing his trust in the doctor's words. He looks back at you, his gaze a mixture of concern and tenderness. "You ready to get outta here?" he asks, his voice gentle.

You take a deep breath and give a shaky nod. "Yeah, let's do this," you say, trying to project more bravery than you feel. Sonny rises and moves to your side, offering his hand to help you up.

Sonny, along with Dr. Halstead, helps you into a nearby wheelchair. He wheels you out of the hospital alongside your concerned grandmother, navigating the hallways with care. The weight of your injuries is still evident in the way you slump in the chair, but you put on a brave face. As you pass the front desk, Sonny waves to Maggie and gives her a grateful nod, silently thanking her for her assistance.

Your grandmother walks beside you, as she keeps a close eye, noticing every wince of pain you try to suppress. As you exit the hospital, Your grandma guides Sonny to where she parked her car. Sonny gently pushes the wheelchair toward the car, guiding you to the backseat.

Sonny gently guides you into the car, securing your seatbelt with a deft touch. As he shuts the door and moves to the passenger side, your grandmother observes him with a blend of curiosity and approval from the driver's seat.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

As you settle in for your first night at your grandmother's, you sleep soundly through much of the day and night. Sonny, taking notice, does his best to assist your grandmother with chores and ease her stress by helping with her baking, all while keeping a watchful eye on you. Sonny's mind keeps drifting back to your earlier conversation, the memory of you both admitting your feelings for each other playing over and over in his head. He can't help but smile every time he thinks about it, a warm feeling spreading through his chest.

As the day draws to a close, your grandmother retired to her bedroom a few hours ago. Sonny finds himself sitting in a cozy armchair in the living room, a cup of coffee in hand. Glancing at the clock, he realizes it's getting late. Sonny rises from his seat and heads upstairs, making his way to your room to check on you one last time before bed.

Quietly pushing the door open, Sonny peers inside to find your body still and silent, wrapped in the bed's blankets. He approaches you gently, a small smile playing on his lips as he gazes down at your sleeping form. Reaching out, he tenderly brushes a strand of hair from your face.

Sonny stands there for a moment, simply watching you sleep and enjoying the peacefulness of the moment. But soon, a sense of exhaustion washes over him, reminding him that he hasn't had much rest today either. With one last glance at you, he turns and quietly leaves the room, closing the door behind him, and heads to the other guest room.

⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧

Sonny's eyes snap open as the blaring ringtone of his phone pierces the silence. He reaches over to the bedside table, his hand fumbling until it closes around the device. Squinting at the bright screen, he sees it's a call from Benson.

Sonny groans, still half-asleep, but answers the call, propping himself up on his elbow. "Hello?" he mumbles, his voice rough with sleep.

"I hope I didn't wake you," Benson says, her tone tinged with a small smile.

Sonny rubs a hand over his face, trying to shake off the remnants of drowsiness. "Nah, you didn't wake me," he replies, his voice heavy with fatigue. "What's up?"

"I called to keep you in the loop - we're on a case of a measles outbreak at a school, and it's becoming a real headache with every parent I have to deal with. Somehow it's connected to the doctor's office where I take Noah and now he’s in ICU." Benson sounds tired. "Sorry, I didn't call this early just to rant, it's just a lot."

Sitting up straighter, Sonny's detective instincts kick in. "You said there's an outbreak? Is the school taking precautions? Any safety measures being implemented?"

Liv sighs heavily, her irritation seeping into her words. "It's a mess. The school's doing its best to contain it, but some kids' medical records may have been falsified. I just don't understand, Sonny - how can people be so reckless with their own children's health?"

Sonny shakes his head, a growing sense of frustration and annoyance. "I don't get it either," he admits, his tone growing somber. "It's beyond irresponsible, it's downright dangerous. Can't the school file charges against the parents?"

Liv lets out a dark chuckle, the tiredness evident in her voice. "Oh, believe me, Barba's on that already," she replies. "He's already started the paperwork."

Sonny leans back against the headboard, running a hand through his messy hair. "Thanks for keeping me in the loop," he says, his voice sympathetic. "That sounds like a handful, but Noah's a fighter, and with you as his mom, he's got the best care." Fully awake now, Sonny shifts on the bed.

Liv lets out a weary sigh. "Thanks, Sonny. I appreciate it," she says, her voice softer. "We'll get through this, one way or another. How's your friend holding up?"

Sonny stretches, his muscles still taut from sleep. "She's doing better, thanks," he replies. "She's got a broken leg and ankle, but she's strong. We just need to make sure she takes it easy and gets plenty of rest."

Liv's voice carries a hint of concern as she says, "That's good to hear. Give her our best. And don't push yourself too hard, alright? Make sure you take care of yourself too."

Sonny chuckles faintly. "Easier said than done," he jokes, knowing he has a habit of putting others before himself. "But I hear ya. I'll do my best to find a balance," he tells Benson before hanging up.

Sonny jerks upright in surprise as you enter the room. "Hey, what are you doing up?" he asks, his voice slightly teasing but with an underlying note of concern. "You should be resting, doll."

"I heard your voice through the wall and wanted to come hang out," you say. Sonny's expression softens, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "You eavesdropped on my conversation, huh?" he says playfully.

"Yep, now move over," you tell him.

Sonny suppresses a chuckle as he shifts over on the bed to make room for you. "Bossy," he teases, a hint of fond amusement in his voice. Carefully, you lower yourself down onto the bed, and Sonny's hand instinctively moves to help steady you. "Careful," he says, a touch of concern in his tone.

Settling next to him, you catch Sonny studying you with a mixture of worry and fondness. "How are you feeling? Any pain?" he asks, his hand gently resting on your leg, just above the cast.

You roll your eyes at his concern. "I'm fine," you assure him, though a slight wince crosses your features as you get comfortable. Sonny gives you a skeptical look but doesn't press the issue.

Instead, he shifts closer, letting his arm rest around your shoulders. "If you say so," he says, an amused smirk playing on his lips. "But just in case, I'm staying close, in case you need anything."

You lean into Sonny's comforting presence, finding solace in his nearness. "You're such a mother hen," you tease, playfully nudging him.

Sonny chuckles, his fingers tracing gentle circles on your shoulder. "Can't help it," he says softly. "You know I worry about you."

"I know," you reply, a small smile playing on your lips. You rest your head on his shoulder, reveling in his closeness and the warmth of his body.

A moment of comfortable silence settles between you as you both listen to each other's steady breathing. Then Sonny speaks up, "So, wanna watch a movie or something?"

You nod, leaning closer to Sonny's side. "Yeah, that sounds good," you reply, your lips curving into a small smile. "What do you have in mind?"

Sonny reaches for the remote on the bedside table and flicks on the TV. He scrolls through the channels, eventually landing on a movie channel. "How about this one?" he asks.

Glancing up at the screen, you recognize the movie's thumbnail. "Oh, I love this one," you say, your voice tinged with excitement.

"Where's your grandma? I thought I'd hear her moving around by now," Sonny asks.

"She's eating breakfast and playing bridge with her friends before heading to the weekly farmer's market," you answer.

Sonny nods, absorbing the information. "Ah, so she's out and about enjoying her morning," he says, a hint of amusement in his tone. "Sounds like she keeps herself occupied." He watches the movie for a moment. "Must be nice, being retired," he remarks. "All that free time to do as she pleases."

"Yeah, she loves it," you reply, a smile playing on your lips.

Sonny chuckles, "Can't say I'm not a bit envious." He gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze. "But then again," he says, shifting his focus back to the movie, "I like my job.”

"Even when it's as chaotic as your job is?" you question, a hint of curiosity in your voice. "With all those cases you deal with, it must be overwhelming at times."

Sonny nods, a small sigh escaping his lips. "Yeah, it can definitely be a lot," he admits. "But it's also very rewarding. Helping people and making a difference - that's what makes it worthwhile."

"Tell me about your job," you say.

Sonny glances at you, surprised by the question. "Alright," he replies, a slight smile on his lips. "What do you wanna know?"

"I know I can't ask too much about the case details, but what about your co-workers? You met mine - what are yours like?"

Sonny pauses for a moment, reflecting on his colleagues. "My coworkers are like a family - we've been through a lot together. Fin is the strong, father figure of the group, he always has your back. Amaro, my partner, can be hot-tempered, but he has a good heart. Rollins is always ten steps ahead at every crime scene. And then there's Lieutenant Benson, the center of our team, who keeps us grounded."

He shrugs. "We have our share of drama and arguments, but we always pull together in the end. It's not just work either - we spend time together outside the job too. It's like a second family."

Sonny glances back at you, a playful smile on his face. "Does any of that sound interesting to you, or have I already bored you?" he jokes.

"I enjoy hearing about your life," you admit, gently bumping your shoulder against his. "And I'm always eager to learn more about you, Sonny." Sonny returns a fond smile, the sunlight casting soft shadows on his face.

Throughout the movie, playful banter flows effortlessly between you two. Sonny occasionally makes sarcastic remarks about the plot, eliciting laughter from you each time. You retaliate with witty comebacks, prompting Sonny to huff and laugh in response.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

Sonny sits at the kitchen table, flipping through a newspaper, while you perch on a nearby stool. You and Sonny look up as your grandma enters the kitchen, a cheerful smile on her face. "Gramma! You're back," you greet her, returning her smile.

She nods, setting her bags on the counter. "I sure am, and I've got a surprise for lunch. How does some ham sound?" She turns to Sonny. "Dear, would you grab it from my car? It's rather heavy."

Sonny stands, a warm smile on his face. "Of course." He gives you a quick wink before heading outside.

As Sonny leaves, your grandma turns to you, a sly smile playing on her lips. "You know, Sonny's a real nice fella," she says, her voice low. She takes Sonny's seat, her gaze fixed on you. "Always so helpful and polite." Her eyes glint with a hint of mischief. "And I've noticed the way he looks at you - like a lovesick puppy."

She reaches out and pats your arm, a knowing glint in her eyes. "You've got a catch there, sweetie," she says, her tone hinting at a wink. You feel your cheeks warm as her words sink in. Glancing at the door to ensure Sonny hasn't returned, you reply, "There's definitely something there, but we haven't had a full conversation yet."

Your grandma gives you a knowing smile, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Uh-huh, and why haven't you had that conversation yet?" she asks gently, her voice tinged with

"In case you haven't noticed, Gram, I've been hit by a train," you quip jokingly.

Your grandma lets out a laugh, shaking her head with fond exasperation. "Oh, I hadn't noticed at all, dear," she teases, a hint of sarcasm in her tone.

Sonny enters carrying the ham, his eyes darting between you and your grandma. "So, what were you two gossiping about?" he asks, his voice tinged with curiosity.

Your grandma gives Sonny a sly smile, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, just girl stuff, nothing too interesting," she replies, deliberately vague.

Sonny glances at you, catching the faintest blush on your cheek, and raises a questioning eyebrow, unconvinced by your grandma's words. "Just girl stuff, huh?" he teases, a playful smirk on his face.

Before the conversation can continue, your grandma shifts the focus, changing the subject to the upcoming meal. "Well, don't just stand there, Sonny. You can help me start preparing lunch."

Sonny chuckles at your grandma's authoritative tone, amused by her straightforward manner. "Yes, ma'am," he grins, rolling up his sleeves. "Just tell me what you need me to do." Your grandma promptly directs Sonny to assist with preparing the ham, rattling off a list of tasks for him.

Meanwhile, you perch on your stool, observing as they work together. Their banter and back-and-forth fill the kitchen, creating a warm, comfortable atmosphere. While Sonny peels potatoes and your grandma chops vegetables, their playful exchange continues.

As Sonny peels potatoes with practiced ease and helps your grandma chop vegetables, you can't help but watch him. His confident, capable hands move with precision and finesse, his concentration unwavering. You notice the slight clench of his jaw when he focuses, and the way his shirt sleeves roll up to reveal toned forearms. Despite your efforts to keep your gaze subtle, Sonny glances up and catches you looking. A knowing smile spreads across his face, as if he can read your thoughts. He raises an eyebrow, a playful spark in his eyes, and continues his task, occasionally glancing your way with a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

The kitchen suddenly feels much warmer, and you feel a bit flustered, struggling to keep your composure.

Sonny finishes plating the food, setting the last dish on the table. "Lunch is served," he announces, wiping his hands on a dishcloth. You and your grandma take your seats, the aroma of the delicious meal making your mouths water. Sitting across from you, Sonny's leg casually brushes against yours under the table.

Your grandma serves the food, passing plates of ham and vegetables around the table. The conversation is lighthearted and full of banter, with Sonny effortlessly engaging in your grandma's witty remarks.

As the meal progresses, your grandma asks Sonny about his family and work, showing genuine interest in getting to know him better. Sonny responds with charm and politeness, his stories making you smile as you learn more about him.

MASTERLIST

#fanfiction #sonny carisi #law and order svu #reader insert #law and order special victims unit #dominick carisi #sonny carisi x reader

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sordidmusings · 6 months ago

Text

Just a life update and opening!

Brought up because of an ask wondering if I still do stuff here so I figured I'd put out some of whats goin on if anyone is interested! Also throwing it into the void of the internet feels less guilt inducing than forcing it on specific people especially after how overwhelmed folks tend to be cuz I'm bad at metering it out and not just being like 'light jokes about struggle that don't scratch the surface or say anything meaningful' and 'here is all the dark lore' 💀 It's also been a struggle because there really does sometimes feel like theres a whole ass language barrier within your own language when you're AuDHD.

I do still do headcanons and write and draw and yada yada there’s just been quite a bit happening and I’m doing poorly at keeping up with life maintenance let alone things I enjoy 🥴 with writing especially in my hobbies I find myself discouraged in what feels like poor quality of my writing and seeing that reflected back to me because I am Weak 💀 general overview of some of the bigger problems below the cut if you’re interested but I won’t bother y’all with the whole picture! Will be more a summary/overview/alluding to things over getting into gory details. Basically a lot will be covered but I won’t force anything below the broad strokes on y'all.

The end is an ask for people to please reach out if they are struggling so please take that seriously. I offer a space with me but please find wherever in this world you are at least somewhat comfortable and have someone be there with you while you process 🤍 I will have a header above that little piece just incase you'd like to skip to only reading that which is completely fine!

CW for mental health talks, allusions to family issues, references to rape and abuse, death by suicide, and suicidal ideation.

What's Up, Doc?

Between hospitalizations (old and new issues and unfortunate near misses 🤡), my couple jobs (the days my body ain’t tryin to give up and even some days it still is means back to the grindstone. Thank you capitalistic overlords 💀), money stresses (medical debt plus just like y'all know shit ain’t the best for most everyone rn), the spring struggle (nightmares + flashbacks get worse from seasonal + anniversaries of men not caring for consent amongst other things lmaoooo), the mental health slew (diagnosed with AuDHD and most of the big hitters besides a personality disorder), and a few other life happenings and old traumas I’m doing a terrible job at everything 🤡 most of it ain’t new so I know all the proper things to do to help for everything from years of therapy and managing the symptoms and all that but dotting my i’s and crossing my t’s hasn’t been offering any relief for a long while so I’m floundering and quite exhausted.

The health issues making everything difficult and painful ain’t helping but I’m also not being the best at taking care of some of them because Why Bother 💀 Many are issues I’ve had for years that ebb and flow in severity and I’m just tired of feeling them and having to manage them. I’m sure any of you with chronic issues understand the feeling well. Those with years and years of major depressive disorder probably also understand the frustration and exhaustion and guilt with knowing you should enjoy something, you WANT to enjoy it, but your body just can’t produce the reaction it should.

I tend to isolate because I’m managing it poorly enough that the topic tends to crop up with the closer few if they ask and that goes Badly cuz, even if they think they won’t, people get uncomfy with the topics which just makes me feel Worse from guilt and sometimes frustration from it being passed over for their comfort or lack of understanding. I am lucky enough to have more recently found one person who Gets It and a beloved soul from lovely old Jersey came back into my life so the bigger problem in that situation is me allowing myself to consistently receive support from them 🤡 One’s so sweet always telling me I can call any time and the other is of the same vein and my dumbass brain keeps being like “but that would bother them” or the usual “you deserve to get worse not get help” 🤡🤡🤡. Clown ass behavior.

Also some bad coping mechanisms make my typing and communication sloppy as hell and I’m quite ashamed of that so best hide that away while it’s going on 💀 due to insistence that it’s Fine I have forgone that instinct to what feels like very Poor Result 🥴 ah the eternal struggle between needing to be Seen to fight the sense of isolation and worthlessness but also being petrified of being perceived while imperfect. Not having any of the connections really be in person doesn’t help too much with feelings isolation because I don't really have anyone around me besides parents that have literally said "why are you making us deal with this" about the intentional near death miss 💀💀💀 my immediate world feels very much like it wants me gone in explicit and subtle ways but c'est la vie. Beggars can’t be choosers so at this point I’m likely just being ungrateful 🤡

One thing making it harder to keep trying is my folks’ years of insistence that I don’t understand my own experience and I’m just dramatic and make things up. It’s an echo of many painful experiences including a whole group intentionally playing games with my sense of reality to enable their friend’s abuse (they got unconsensual nudes from him out of it so that’s worth the price of treating someone like that right?). Such is life.

One of the new things I’m uncertain how to approach handling properly is the grief and such shifting back to the forefront from the first anniversary of my childhood brother figure being taken from us by his bipolar depression. I have known people taken by suicide before but not this close to home. My childhood wasn’t the happiest but he and his family were a bright place in it. His little sister was my best friend in the whole world through my childhood and their family treated me more like family than my own. He was the best mix of a good and bad influence in an older brother figure I could’ve wished for. He fought long and hard but exhaustion hits us all, sometimes even with proper help. What eternally pains me is knowing how helpless and scared he must have felt and even worse how absolutely alone he felt. That was his last feeling in this life. I can only hope that more than anything, whatever happens next is giving him relief, peace, and rest.

Talk on reaching out below!

On that note, if any of you experience suicidality too, my messages (or ask if you’re more comfy on anon) are always open. This is an issue that’s been in my life in many forms since I was 12, so I will not shy away from you or your thoughts. Even if shared with something uncomfortable or "ugly", I find the discomfort of sitting with someone’s pain negligible in comparison to being the one in pain so why not prioritize that person in their need? It’s also negligible under the importance of truly holding space to process those hurts and stresses instead of just simple little niceties.

I am not the best at being active but if I see any of these messages especially we will truly talk. I know how insanely isolating and disappointing it can feel when someone offers support to be nice and then shoves to the next topic or barely responds because it makes them uncomfortable. It is a bitter pill we must often swallow to forgive those who think they will help for making things worse because they have bit off more than they can chew. It is also a bitter feeling that that reaffirms to us that by our very nature, we are too much to handle and are too much to deal with for sharing our internal space and circumstance. But at the same time, all of us are simply human so who am I to malign someone for making mistakes or being imperfect? So long as someone truly wants to try, there is all the reason in the world to give them grace.

Qualifications kind of???

The one good thing that has come from a lot of the experiences that I’ve gone through is that it has forced perspective on me and forced me to learn skills in holding space, validating, and connecting to others in immense pain. No one is perfect in this skill (even therapists struggle - the number who have said they don’t know where to start untangling the traumas or who have cried at it and in turn needed comfort 💀 a strange experience I know my darling at least gets too lol) but I have found in both giving and receiving that honesty and openness is W A Y more important than being perfect.

This is something I’ve watched more people struggle with than not as life circumstances has not made it so that they must learn the skill at the same time that there are resources to learn it, so I may make more posts with advice for it than the bit I go through here. I’m not a licensed therapist so this isn’t going to be a clinical breakdown of how to be someone’s therapist but I would consider my experience as a confidant, consistent reading up on psychological and related sociological research, and experience going through various forms of therapy worthy of giving solid advice. Unfortunately, co-morbidities and resistant brain chemistry really make using the skills on myself Difficult 💀 but as brief examples of experience for validity speaking on this, I’ve been to a lot of group therapy where licensed therapists literally coach you on this, guided a safe space/group for SA survivors in college, coached friends who couldn’t afford therapy through suicidality or abusive situations, and coached survivors through feelings and decisions when deciding whether or not to charge or going through the process of charging their abuser. All of which is much easier to be effective to people you know irl but the support online can be nothing to snub your nose at either. None of this is to say I'm perfect or exceptional - neither is true - just that I’ve had circumstances and experiences that afford me a bit of extra knowledge in this.

In the vast majority of cases, someone who is struggling and coming to you for help wants you to be there - your thoughts, your feelings, your perspective. They don’t want someone sitting uncomfortably and saying the occasional “sorry” they want engagement because more than anything they don’t want to be alone. In a basic example, if you find yourself freezing when someone comes to you with something you don’t know how to handle, instead of saying nothing or only short cliches due to fear of making a mistake, be honest about that. “I’m not sure what to say right now to be honest because that’s so much to deal with. I can’t imagine having to live with that all the time. Is there anything in it frustrating you the most or that you’re having the most difficulty tackling?”. This is active listening and engagement. You are being honest with where you are at so they aren’t guessing what you’re thinking, you are showing that you see how overwhelming the situation is, especially for the person who has to live with it. If you can’t handle a conversation where these issues exist, how do you think it feels to live with them day in and day out, sometimes for years or the majority of a life?

Asking questions is SUPER important too. Trust the other person to only share what they are comfortable with and don’t assume all questions are bad. Asking questions is one of the truest and simplest ways to show you care because why would you want to know more if you don’t give a shit? Asking questions is also very helpful and one of the reasons talking to others about your issues is important - it gives the person struggling something to react to and give perspective. It helps them process the issue in ways they won’t be able to do by themselves. This may make the process sound slightly manufactured but I promise it’s not, especially as it becomes second nature to know what thing to use when. Communication is a skill so advice around it will inherently make it sound more clinical than the actual process is.

People are also not a monolith so while this type of being there works for the vast majority some people may not like it. That is also where communication comes in - check in with the person on if this is helping and what isn't helpful. Make sure to adjust when you make a mistake.

Conclusion

I’m happy to hold space for other issues as well. I’m no replacement for a therapist but I’ve been a helpful supplement to many people I knew struggling throughout the years so I’m at least okay at that! Since I’m doing pretty bad functionally right now the help won’t be as consistent as I wish but I will give whatever is in my power just like these things deserve. I hope to get better soon so that I can properly offer a stronger foundation of support outward again 🤍

#life update #mental health #tw death #tw abuse #tw rap3 #tw sui ideation #tw: suidice #tw: r*pe

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