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eringobragh420 · 10 days ago

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🖤 Pairing: Damian Priest x f!Reader 🖤 Summary: Damian’s fiancée receives a head injury during a match resulting in amnesia. (Part 2/5) 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 🛑 Warnings: Head injury, hospital setting, mention of oral (f receiving) 🖤 Taglist: In the comments. If you’d like to be added, please click here! 🖤 MASTERLIST

DAY ONE

You awoke slowly, eyelids weighing at least a thousand pounds when you tried to lift them. Eventually they opened, though it took a few more blinks to clear your vision and realize you had no earthly idea where you were. The light above your head, the blood pressure cuff constricting around one arm and an IV in the other, it was fairly easy to deduce you were in a hospital. You sighed, remembering the night before—how much of it, you weren’t sure—but then you remembered that you couldn’t remember everything last night and it was still true today. You didn't know your name or what you had been doing to get injured in the first place. But you knew what a hospital was, and a BP cuff and an IV … why were your memories selective? Had you literally hit your head in such a spot to dislodge only certain memories and not others? Was that even possible? Would you ever know?

Turning your head, the man from the night before—Damian Priest, you remembered, though as your fiancé, you recalled nothing—was asleep beside you, still in the same chair. His head was slumped, chin resting against his shoulder, one of his hands covering yours on the bed, feet propped on another chair. He'd stayed, and he was bound to be incredibly sore when he woke up, and your heart swelled anyway. He must really love you, you thought, and your swollen heart deflated like one of Tom Brady’s footballs. This handsome—quit trying to downplay how sexy he is just because you can’t remember him—man was doing his absolute best to take care of you and be there for you, and you had not one single fucking recollection of him. And because of this reason, you couldn’t ignore the slight discomfort of having his hand over yours. Last night you’d craved contact, now all you seemed to want was distance. Unfortunately, as soon as you slipped your hand out from under his, the big man jumped awake, his now empty hand clenching around nothing.

“Sorry,” he rasped, scrubbing that hand over his face. “Are you okay?” Your eyes slid to his, and you didn’t have to tell him that there had been no change from the night before. It was fleeting, so fast you weren’t positive you saw it, but devastation swept across his features before he replaced it with a forced smile. “It’s alright,” he said, but the tears were already spilling onto your cheeks, and before you could tend to them, Damian was cupping your face, his thumbs wiping the tiny rivers from your skin. “It’s only been a day,” he reminded you, leaning forward so it was easier for you to meet his gaze comfortably. “You gotta give yourself some time. Okay?” You sniffed miserably, nodding in his grasp, and when he was sure you were finished crying, he severed your physical connection, however reluctant he was to do so. “I’m gonna go find your doctor,” he said, standing from the chair. “See if I can take you home today.” You swallowed, nodding, though a myriad of new fears squeezed around your heart.

After Damian closed the door behind him, your head fell back against the pillow, and you winced at the soreness. He wanted to take you home. Of course he did. Where else would you go but home? But you were scared to see more things or people you didn’t recognize. Would you be able to handle it, or would your brain simply melt under its burning efforts to remember the life you had forgotten? On the other hand, maybe seeing your home and your stuff, smelling the smells and touching the surfaces, sleeping in your own bed, would jog your memory. You had to at least try, you knew that, but the sheer terror of being more confused than ever still loomed heavily over you.

Outside your door, Damian leaned against the wall and rubbed his forehead, then his stiff neck, and his eyes squeezed shut. He hadn’t actually admitted it to himself, but somewhere deep inside, he’d expected you to be his same old fiancée when you woke up. You’d thank him for staying with you and you’d kiss and everything would be fine. But you still didn’t know him. There’d been no reason to ask—he could see it in your eyes. The devastation, the fear, the confusion—all still present and accounted for, like a perfect attendance record for students of Trauma. As much as he knew it pained you, he felt like he was dying. He’d seen love and adoration and joy in your beautiful eyes for so long, and the shock still hadn’t worn off from seeing the emptiness there last night. The light, your light, that he’d fallen in love with had been extinguished, and he didn’t know if it would ever be relit.

The doctor from the night prior was no longer on duty, so Damian spoke to someone else. The new doctor reviewed your chart, then Damian followed them into your room so they could perform a series of neurological tests, which you passed, aside from still not knowing the answer to the Big Three: your name, the year, or the President of the United States. Aside from the amnesia and concussion, you were healthy and granted permission to not only head home, but board a plane to get there. You hadn’t even considered that you weren’t in your hometown, and now you would have to navigate an airport with memory loss and a head injury?

As if reading your thoughts, Damian hooked his pinky around yours. You looked down at your fingers on the bed, assuming this should mean something to you, but your mind was blank, so you lifted your eyes to his. “Don’t worry,” he said, the intense timbre causing your thighs to unceremoniously clench. “I’ll be right there.” You smiled, feeling comforted, though not as much as you probably would have been if you actually knew who the fuck he was.

You were given a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, both your size, but you didn’t recognize them, as well as a pair of sneakers, also your size. Apparently some friends of yours had brought you these items the night before while you slept, the name’s Rhea and Jey filling you with just as much curiosity as the name Damian Priest. Once dressed, you were forced into a wheelchair despite your protestations that your head was injured and not your legs or feet, and Damian was the one to carry the bag which contained the costume you’d been wearing when you’d fallen, as well as the boots, while pushing you toward the exit. Your own personal Superman, and you couldn’t even remember how you’d met.

He helped you into the backseat of a sleek, black vehicle that had been sent by the WWE, tossed your stuff in the trunk, and somehow folded his humongous frame into the seat beside you. As the driver chauffeured you back to the hotel you were told you were staying at, every now and then, if the car hit a bump, Damian’s arm would lift like he would protect you from being jolted forward, much like the intended use of the seatbelt buckled around you, and it was the most endearing and annoying thing in the world.

“I’m okay,” you said, and he looked at you. “I mean, I can’t remember … anything, but … I’m okay otherwise. I can handle a few potholes.”

Damian’s smirk grew slowly. “Fair enough,” he said, glancing out the window. A moment later, he looked back at you. “But when I do it again—”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t see it.” The smile you shared felt special, but it didn’t go much further than that.

Even though you’d arrived at a hotel instead of your home, the respite you felt was boundless. No beeping machines or BP cuffs or IV stands or intrusive nurses and doctors existed in this room. Just you, a stranger, and eventually your things—you and Damian had evidently taken all of your belongings to the arena where you’d had your accident, the idea being you would head straight for the airport after the show. And since you’d gone to the hospital instead, Damian had paid for the room last night and tonight to give you some time to rest and relax before having to deal with traveling.

“So listen,” Damian’s smoke-on-velvet voice permeated your thoughts, and you turned to him, “Rhea and Jey grabbed all our stuff from the arena, so I’m gonna go get it before they take off. Will you be okay alone for a few minutes? I can ask them to bring it here—” Which was something he actually did not want to do, considering a specific item he had to make sure was in its rightful spot amongst your things.

“I’ll be fine,” you assured him, attempting a smile, but you weren’t sure how it came across.

Damian nodded, waited a beat, and reached into the back pocket of his fitted blue jeans. And when you noticed his jeans were so tight and mostly left nothing to the imagination, you began noticing other things: his perfectly toned and tattooed arms, broad chest and shoulders, and those legs of his went on for days. If you really had landed this Adonis of a man, surely you deserved some sort of award or medal. He pulled a cell phone from his pocket, the case protecting it obnoxiously colorful and glittery, and you instantly knew it was yours. Now what the fuck? you complained. I know that’s my phone, but I don’t know that’s my man? Or my own damn name? You wondered what you’d done so terribly in the life before this one to receive such cruel punishment. “This is yours,” Damian went on, closing the space between the two of you. “Uh … your whole life is on there. Our whole life, really. Pictures, videos, text messages, social media … but I have to warn you.” Your gaze lifted to his, and while he was deadly serious about what he was about to say, you still spotted a bit of devilry in those mahogany eyes. “You and I have a … very physical relationship.” He scratched at the back of his neck, cheeks tinging just a hint of pink, smiling awkwardly.

You blinked up at him. “You mean we fuck a lot?” you deadpanned. It was an honest question until you both realized the way you’d worded it, and you shared a few chuckles.

“Uh, exactly,” Damian confirmed. “So those pictures and videos and texts between us will probably be about 90% sexual.” Made sense—look at the man. “Same with the gallery, and … you know what? Just browse at your own risk.” Another collective giggle. “I’ll be right back. Do you need anything?”

You shook your head and shrugged. “I mean, if you find my memory out there …” It was a cheesy thing to say, and suddenly you were embarrassed because, also suddenly, you had a strong desire to impress Damian. What if your memory never came back and the two of you had to start all over? Would he even want that? Would you?

Great, the relaxation from before was now circling the drain. You took the phone from Damian, the screen coming to life. He’d warned you about everything but the wallpaper on the phone—Damian stood in the middle of a ring, and you were in his arms, shimmering boots wrapped around his waist, your lips pressed together, and the two of you were silhouetted against a spotlight trained directly on you. You stared at it a moment, taking in every detail, hoping something would trigger inside your brain. Nothing.

“The passcode—” Damian started, but your thumb swept across four numbers without even a thought, and the phone blinked to life, ready for use. You looked up at him, anxiety shooting through the roof, tears welling in your eyes. “It’s okay,” he said, placing his hands on your shoulders and gently squeezing.

“I can remember my fucking passcode, but not my fiancé?” you wailed.

“Listen,” Damian hollered over you, and your mouth clamped closed. “That doesn’t mean you remember the code. It could just as easily have been muscle memory.”

“But—”

“Do the numbers mean anything to you?” Actually, thinking about it, you couldn’t recall the numbers you’d punched in not seconds beforehand. You shook your head, and Damian couldn’t hide the grief as it tugged at the corners of his mouth and eyes, though he tried to smile to camouflage the hurt. “It’s my birthday.” And now you wanted to die. “So you didn’t remember it, okay? It was all muscle memory.”

“Right,” you nodded, though it was difficult to believe it. And either way, you lost, so it didn’t matter—it was muscle memory and not real memory, or you remembered the numbers but not their significance. Your classic lose-lose.

Damian sighed. “I’ll be right back, mi vida.” He pushed down the handle on the door.

“Wait,” you called after him. He turned. “What does that mean?”

“Mi vida?” You nodded. Damian’s smile was small. “It means, uh … my life.” You gazed at him for a few seconds, hoping, wishing, praying, that you could remember him or the words. You nodded again, choosing not to speak in case you erupted into sobs.

Damian left the room, clicking the door softly closed behind him. He headed down the hall toward the elevator, but became dizzy and lightheaded, and he reached out for the nearest wall to steady his large body. He shook his head, trying to jostle the sudden ailments free from his brain, because this is the last thing he needed right now. He had to take care of you—he didn’t have the time or energy to tend to himself as well. After a few deep breaths, he boarded the elevator for Rhea and Jey’s floor, barely making it to their door without collapsing from fatigue.

“How is she?” Rhea greeted upon opening the door. Jey was sitting in the chair, holding his phone between his knees.

“Uh, no change,” Damian replied. “My fiancée has no idea who the hell I am.”

“Well, they said that was temporary, didn’t they?” Rhea asked, concerned, crossing her arms.

Damian nodded, not really wanting to have this conversation right now. They were going to ask things he didn’t have the answers to, and he didn’t want that either. He busied himself gathering your suitcase and his, followed by your respective duffel bags. He unzipped yours and rummaged around until he came to the item he’d been the most focused on—the teal Tiffany’s box that contained your engagement ring. You never wore it during matches, instead nestling it back in the box it had been presented to you in, which you then tucked safely into your bag. Watching it sparkle in even the dull light of the hotel room, Damian remembered every moment of proposing to you—the salt in the air, the crashing waves of the ocean, the sand beneath his feet, and your dress fluttering in the wind as you held a hand over your mouth, capable of only nodding when asked if you would marry him. He gazed down at the ring for a long moment before closing the box and packing it into his duffel bag instead of yours. He didn’t want you to see it and feel obligated to wear it if you weren’t comfortable doing so, so he decided to avoid the conversation altogether—provided you never asked where your engagement ring was.

At the same time, you crawled into bed with the messy covers, briefly wondering if you had a side and which one it might be, but then you smelled Damian on one of many pillows. Your body slid across the mattress of its own accord, your mind not even thinking about it, and you snuggled into the scent of the man you loved but didn’t know. You entered the passcode on your phone—muscle memory—looking for a moment at the wallpaper and the triple digit notifications for both missed calls and text messages, before tapping on the Gallery. Too many folders to count popped up, and you tapped the one that caught your eye first—Movies. You chose a random video and pressed play.

The video was dark to begin with, but the quality cleared, and you were able to see a pair of legs—your legs, you knew somehow—in stockings, the lacy tops of the stockings visible because of a short dress made even shorter by bunching it around your hips. The camera zoomed out to show your legs were stretched over the center console of some expensive vehicle, your feet in Damian’s lap. His hair was pulled back into a high bun, he was dressed in a suit, and one of his hands controlled the steering wheel while the other snuck under one of your heels to rub your foot. You moaned on screen, and Damian smirked. He removed the heel altogether and, not knowing what else to do with it, hooked it to the top of the steering wheel so he could better massage your foot.

“I love you, baby,” you said through the phone, and your voice sounded familiar, but the huskiness and sheer obsession in your tone surprised you.

“I love you, querida,” Damian rumbled, glancing at you to wink before returning his eyes to the road. Your heart shriveled within your chest and there was that feeling of wanting to die again.

“I’m gonna ride you when we get home,” you sing-songed from behind the camera.

You tapped the Back button on the phone to stop and minimize the video. You had an idea of where it was going, and you knew the stars of the show were yourself and Damian, but since you couldn’t remember anything about this night, it felt almost like you were invading someone else’s privacy. Scrolling down, a curious thumbnail caught your eye, and though you knew better, your thumb tapped on it regardless.

Whoever was behind the phone had the lens trained on a big screen TV, which was playing some movie you may have recognized but couldn’t think of the name of. The rest of the room appeared to be a cozy living area with dimmed lights and modern decor.

“My fiancé promised we were going to actually Netflix and chill after a travel day, but this motherfucker …” And the camera lowered until all you could see were a pair of thighs—your thighs—on either side of Damian’s head, his mouth buried in your pussy as he knelt in front of you on the couch. “Fuck, Papi,” you moaned through the phone’s speakers, your hand entering the frame as you wrapped your fingers around his ponytail.

You punched the Home button several times before tossing the phone face down on the bed. You buried your face in the pillow that smelled like Papi and you wanted to cry, had the urge to cry, your eyes and nose burned like you were going to cry, but no tears came. Had you already cried them all?

You heard the key card slip into place, followed by a click, and the hotel room door opened. You looked over your shoulder and watched as Damian struggled to bring in all the luggage. Lifting the blankets, you started out of bed to help, but Damian put his hand up, smiled, and told you to relax and that he had everything under control. Another forced smile from him, and it was getting easier for you to tell.

“Thank you,” you whispered. Damian placed the luggage and bags in the closet area before crossing the room and taking a seat on the opposite side of the bed. “For everything.” The smile from him this time was more genuine. “I know this isn’t easy for you.”

“Mi amor, nothing about you has been easy since the day we met,” Damian grinned. You smirked, looking away. “You turned me down at least … a hundred times.”

“That seems like an exaggeration,” you said, brows rising.

Damian shrugged, scooting back against the headboard as he kicked his shoes off before crossing one ankle over the other on the bed. It wasn’t lost on you how close to the edge he was seated. “Maybe just a few times,” he admitted fondly, gazing up at the ceiling as he remembered each interaction.

“Why did I say no? Looking through my phone, you and I are … pretty compatible.” You could easily see the burning desire in his eyes to ask what exactly you’d looked at.

“You didn't wanna date someone you worked with,” he shrugged.

You nodded. “So what made me say yes?”

Damian’s grin this time could have lit up the room. “You didn't,” he said. “At the time, on NXT, we were running a few mixed tag matches. That's where—”

“I know what it means,” you interrupted, trying to train yourself not to wonder why you were remembering some things, unimportant things, and not the things that mattered most. You would also have to start paying attention to your attitude toward Damian when you were frustrated with your own brain.

Damian looked at you a moment, eyes narrowed, but he let it go and continued. “Anyway, after we won our first match, you just kinda … jumped into my arms.” He gestured with his big hands. “And then you kissed me.” Your brows rose. “The wallpaper on your phone? That’s that kiss.”

You smirked, rubbing your lips together. “We’re so cute, it almost makes me sick,” you joked.

Damian guffawed, hand over his chest. “Yeah, we hear that a lot.” A yawn overtook you, and your eyes watered from the effort. “You should sleep,” he offered, now yawning himself.

You nodded. “You’re not … leaving, though, are you?” you asked.

Damian shook his head. “I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

“I mean—” You looked at the bed.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere,” he repeated.

The distance you’d wanted before? Well, you still wanted it, but you couldn’t have him too far away, either, so on the other side of the bed was perfect, and you started to crawl back under the blankets.

“Wait,” you said, sitting up. “This is your side, isn’t it?”

Your fiancé smiled. “Yeah, but—”

“Let’s switch sides,” you interjected. “I want everything as normal as … I can handle.” You hoped Damian was picking up what you were putting down as he stood up. You crawled to the other side, your side, tucking your legs under the covers again. Damian rounded the bed, crossing his arms before grabbing the bottom of his shirt, lifting it over his head, and he shook his ponytail out from a bun as he tossed the shirt onto a nearby chair. It was completely out of habit, it was easy to tell, but you hadn’t been prepared for it. Your eyes grew as they searched every tattoo and each chiseled muscle, and you were too focused on him to even notice when you licked your lips and sucked the bottom one into your mouth. You had to be the luckiest woman on the face of the planet to have such a delectable man climbing into bed with you.

“Sorry,” Damian said. “I can put it back on …”

“No!” you exclaimed, and your cheeks were set ablaze, and you placed a hand over your eyes like it would magically make you invisible.

“Man, it’s been a minute since I made you blush like that,” Damian chuckled, falling into bed. And he had known your meaning from before—he stayed on his side, maybe closer to the edge than he needed to be—respecting your need for space and his presence at the same time.

#wwe #damian priest #wwe fanfiction #wwe imagine #wwe x reader #damian priest x reader #damian priest imagine #damian priest fanfic #wwe fandom #wwe fic

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zombiigrll · 8 months ago

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LONELY ⋆｡°✩ carl grimes x reader .ᐟ WORD COUNT .ᐟ ⭑ 1061 ꩜ .ᐟ WARNINGS ⭑ angst to fluff, swearing, depressed/traumatized reader, reader is glenn and maggies adoptive child, intended lowercase, the walking dead 7x1 spoilers, death mentions, lack of eating, suicidal thoughts, use of y/n .ᐟ A/N .ᐟ ⭑ hi! this is my first time writing and posting anything on tumblr so im sorry if its not the best </3 ive never really done oneshots before either so i dont really know what im doing LMAO hope you still enjoy!

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it was supposed to be an easy run. get maggie to the hilltop and get her help, that's all it was supposed to be. but, of course, nothing could ever be that easy. not for you. the last thing you expected to see, however, was your father-figure getting his skull beaten in, and almost having to witness your boyfriend getting his arm chopped off. you were distressed. you couldn't function properly. you had already lost your family once before at the beginning of the outbreak, and all of those same feelings came back after losing glenn. he had been there for you since the start, saving you from dying with your family. and now he was gone and there was nothing you could do.

you had fallen into a deep depression, similar to the one you had before. you locked yourself in your room, not eating, not drinking, occasionally getting up to use the restroom, but other than that, you were bedridden. you hadn't even changed your clothes from that night. the clothes that were stained in glenns blood. hell, even his blood remained dried across your face. you felt as lonely as ever, but at the same time, you knew you weren't. because every single day you heard knocks at your door. it was carl.

"y/n, please. just open the door. i can help you." he desperately spoke from the other side of the door.

you felt like shit for making him continue to come to your door everyday just for you to stubbornly remain in your room, but it felt like nothing mattered anyways. eventually, he'd give up, right? that's what you thought. "go away." you mumbled just loud enough for him to hear. "just open the door. please." he begged again. he understood your struggles. he was aware of why you were acting this way, and he couldn't blame you. he knew how it felt to lose family members and people close to him. unfortunately enough for him, you stayed where you were, not opening the door for him yet again. but after almost a week had passed, he began getting more worried. he begged at your door for you to open it, he tried opening it himself but you had locked the door, blocking it as well so no one could enter. you didn't care. you were isolating yourself, barely sleeping. the only times you slept were when you cried so hard you fell asleep. you felt miserable. you were giving up on everything, hoping one day it'd all just end and you wouldn't have to worry anymore. you wouldn't have to worry about anyone else dying, because you'd be with them. no more funerals, no more fighting for your life... you laid awake on your bed, tears silently falling from your eyes as you stared blankly at your ceiling, those terrible thoughts swirling through your brain. but this night was different. you had opened your window, which carl took as the perfect opportunity. he was tired of not being able to help you due to your stubbornness, so he decided to crawl through your window. *thump!*

you quickly jolted up at the sound, staring at carl who was slowly sitting back up after not-so-gracefully falling into your room. he grabbed his hat and placed it back on top of his head before looking over at you. you stared at him with tears glazing over your eyes, your face scrunching up as you brought a hand to your mouth. "i..." you were speechless. your emotions got the better of you and you began sobbing. he quickly walked over to you, cupping your face with his hands as he looked down at you sympathetically. "don't cry..." he softly spoke, but his eyes quickly noticed the dried blood that was still on your face. "y/n..." "i-i'm s.. sorry." you sobbed, averting your eyes as you crossed your arms around your waist. he shook his head as he softly acknowledged your beat-up appearance, moving your arms from covering your waist as he pulled you in for a big hug. "don't be sorry."

you quickly returned the hug, squeezing him tightly as you sobbed into his chest. he broke from the hug, looking back down at you and your bloodstained clothes. "let's go get you cleaned up, yeah?"

you silently nodded. he helped you stand up and you almost fell over, but he quickly caught you. "...let's get you something to eat, too." ... the two of your were now in the bathroom. he helped you sit down on the seat of the toilet before grabbing a rag, getting it wet before walking back over to you. "this is gonna be really cold." he smiled warmly, slowly bringing the rag up to your face and wiping the blood off. you flinched slightly at the touch. as he's cleaning your face, his face turns a bit perplexed. "why... why didn't you open the door?"

you avert your eyes to the ground as you begin messing with your hands. "i just wanted to be alone, i don't know." carl looks at you with a bit of a somber gaze before continuing to clean you up. "i'm sorry for breaking in. i was worried about you. just... please, don't do that again. if you ever need help, i'm here. you know that, right?" "i know..." you looked up at him. "i didn't want you to see me like this. i..." you began tearing up again as you spoke. he quickly sets the rag down and puts both his hands on your cheeks, using his thumbs to wipe away your tears. "i know, i know. it's okay." shortly after, he pulled you in for a quick kiss, his hands remaining on your face as he pulled away. he uses one of his hands to wipe away the stray strands of hair over your face, tucking them behind your ear. "you're so pretty. you know that, right?" he smiled warmly. "i love you." you laughed with a smile, a tear rolling down your cheek. "i love you, too." "let's go get you some new clothes, okay? and some food. i'll make you whatever you want." carl asks, grabbing both your hands. you nod, standing up in sync with him as you followed him back to the room. god, you were so lucky to have him. ─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────────

#🌙 — maxines fics #the walking dead #carl grimes #twd #carl grimes x reader #carl x reader #carl grimes one shot #twd x reader #twd imagine #the walking dead oneshot #the walking dead imagine #twd fluff #twd angst #fluff #angst #carl grimes x y/n #carl x y/n

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tiny-1karus · 1 year ago

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Pairing: yandere!batfam (Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian) x fem!reader

(All the boys are 20+, Damian is around the same age as the reader and they're both in university.)

A tiny little sequel to the Cinderella-esque story, but from the boys perspective. There are multiple parts to this but you can check out the first part here:

Part 1

This is an almost 3k fic, so enjoy!

...

It was the following evening after the inciting but unfortunate incident that had landed you on the medical bay of the Wayne manor. You had been unconscious for most of the night until the late afternoon as your body recovered from the traumatic head injury you had received from your stepmom, only gaining consciousness for barely an hour before immediately falling back asleep. The last night's events, along with your clearly overworked and underfed body, had clearly taken it's toll on you. With the state of your body and your consistent lack of consciousness, they had to attach an IV tube to your arm.

The Wayne brothers, along with their father, had taken turns diligently monitoring you throughout this time after returning in the early dawn from their... Mission.

They could all finally relax as the primary and greatest threat to your well-being was finally taken care of.

They hope they burned in hell.

Your condition, thankfully, wasn't dire, even if it wasn't ideal. All you needed was complete and relative rest until the next 3-4 days, which was slightly overestimated, but none of them were taking any chances on your health. Not when you were still in such a fragile state.

Currently, Dick and Damian were on watch for you. Dick was sitting on a chair to your left while Damian stood next to him like a silent sentry, both of them watching the steady rise and fall of your chest as if to reassure themselves that you were still there with them. Even in sleep, you still had this shadow that seemed to haunt you as your face never seemed to be fully at peace.

Dick was holding on to your hand with a guilty expression, his blue eyes darting to the large square gauze taped to your left cheek. It hid the massive bruise that nearly covered the whole left side of your face. He still couldn't express into words the magnitude of rage that had consumed him when he saw the dark mark on your precious face.

Dick never thought himself a particularly violent person. He tended to use diplomacy as a primary approach when violence is clearly not warranted. As a vigilante, he uses violence as a means to protect, but last night he had used all his strength to harm.

He still couldn't fathom why it had felt so good in that one instance, so he tried not to think about it anymore.

He gently ran his thumb against the back of your hand as his eyes darted to the bandage on your face. He bit his lip as his own face scrunched up into an expression of guilt once again.

Clearly, he was failing at that.

Damian let out an annoyed sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Grayson, I can hear you thinking from here." He stared down at his brother with an unimpressed look, "and clearly, you're doing a poor job at it."

Dick bent his head until his forehead touched the back of your hand. He really wanted to kiss it but his guilty conscience made him think he was unworthy of the action at the moment.

"I dunno Dames, I just feel so... Guilty."

Damian let out a quiet exhale as he considered the miserable, guilt-ridden state of his oldest brother.

A tiny part of him, the part that hurt and raged at all the pain you had endured by your so-called family, felt remorseful that you had gotten injured that night. This piece of him ached at the thought of all the other nights that he wasn't there to protect you from it all, even if he had been unaware of your existence for most of it.

But he would never let anyone know that.

The youngest Wayne laid his hand on Dick's shoulder. He waited until his older brother finally looked up from his hunched over position on your hospital bed. Damian inclined his head towards the door before walking towards it, silently waiting for his brother to follow.

Dick seemed hesitant to leave your side but the impatient gesture that Damian made at the door finally made him follow his youngest brother outside. He closed the door with a faint click, and they both walked towards the observation window on the other side of the medical bay. They settled at the spot that was directly in front of your bed; Dick with his arms hanging loosely at his sides and Damian with his arms crossed over his chest.

You might have been unconscious but they didn't want to take any chances of you hearing this conversation.

Damian surprised his brother by speaking first. "I hope you know that it was done out of necessity. She wouldn't have come to us, where it's infinitely more safe and she has a vast access to superior resources, if this didn't happen." The conviction in his voice brokered no room for doubt or argument. He said this as if it was merely fact and to a degree, it was, but Dick couldn't help the sliver of doubt that persistently niggled at the back of his mind.

Damian hadn't turned to look at his brother as he spoke, his green eyes locked intensely on your sleeping form on the hospital bed. If he had any doubts, which Dick seriously doubted, he gave none of it away. Instead, his jaw seemed to clench a bit before letting out a silent, imperceptible sigh. "Nothing would have changed for her if we hadn't intervened." He pointed out with an unreadable look.

Dick sighed as he looked at you through the glass with a sad expression. He had hoped, however vaguely, that your family wouldn't have stooped that low. That they wouldn't have fallen for the bait.

The only tragedy is that they hadn't suffered more.

When Dick—uncharacteristically—still failed to respond, Damian let out a frustrated noise. Since when did he become the voice of reason for this family? The youngest Wayne pivoted and pinned his older brother with a hard, unyielding look.

"Grayson, I will only say this once. There is no need to feel guilty. It was the optimal way to get her out of that disgusting cesspool and we succeeded." There was a fierce conviction to the youngest Wayne as he said this and even Dick couldn't help but feel a little swayed.

Dick ran both of his hands through his hair aggressively and sighed harshly. "I just wish that she didn't get hurt in the process." We could have prevented it, was what went unsaid but clearly understood between the two brothers.

At this, even Damian didn't have a reply or rebuttal ready. Because it was the same thing that plagued him about this situation. But he consoled reassured himself that you had survived and were finally in their care, where you were safe (where you belonged).

It had been years since Damian has thought this way, not since he started living with his father and adopted siblings and developed a moral code and conscience of his own, but this is one of those rare instances where the ends undeniably justified the means.

Damian couldn't—wouldn't regret his choice to plant your money box on top of your bed while leaving your door ajar for the filthy vultures to pounce like the mindless, greedy beasts they were. It was their fault for acting on their avarice and they paid for it with their lives.

"I just wish she didn't get hurt."

Damian narrowed his eyes in thought. Truthfully, you weren't supposed to get hurt.

...▼▼▼...

The hours that had led up to the incident had been a hectic whirlwind for everyone as they were neck-deep in the process of busting a criminal network drug-ring operation. The entire team had been investigating this underground operation for weeks and were on the cusp of sweeping this operation into the light.

And this was in the middle of them monitoring the situation in your house. Robin had already planted your moneybox in the open a few days ago and it hadn't even taken 30 minutes for the pests to take the bait. Through the multiple cameras they had set up within your house, it almost amazed the team how none of your step-family seemed to think twice before going on a shopping spree with your hard earned money, extravagantly parading their ill-gotten luxury (Damian scoffed, they called that luxury?) in your house right in front of you. All this, as you still worked hard and let these putrid leeches work you into the ground like a slave. It was only a matter of time before you realized where your money had unfortunately gone. They all waited with baited breaths for the explosive fall out that would ensue and had prepared measures to protect you from it.

But the sudden arrival of a rival gang on one of the warehouses that also acted as a quasi-headquarters for one of the heads of this operation threw a wrench in their plans, and suddenly all hands were needed on deck.

Batman called all of them in and the team entered the warehouse into a room that had turned into a battle ground as men and women fought in a free-for-all. Without hesitation, they all leapt into the fray.

And although the vigilantes had been busy bashing skulls, they still kept an ear out for the little ping! That would alert them of your stepmother's arrival at your house. Since that alert never preceded anything good for you.

Ping!

Red Hood nearly missed it over the sound of his and his enemy's exchange of gunfire but when he finally noticed the alert, he hurried to the nearest stack of crates for cover before pulling up the feed. You were crumpled on the floor with your stepmother nowhere in sight.

Shit, that can't be good.

"RED!" He bellowed.

From across the large warehouse, Red Robin answered. "Already on it!"

Everyone on the comms heard a curse as Red Robin sounded out the custom alert sound they had set for emergencies that pertained to you.

"Guys, we need to wrap this up now. She's running around downtown in the rain alone. She seems erratic and terrified." None of them had to be geniuses (which they were) to guess that something bad had happened in the mere moments they had focused their attention elsewhere.

Batman's gruff and gravelly voice came through the comms in a clear command, "Red Hood, Nightwing, go out and secure her location. We'll finish this."

Robin and Red Robin tightened their holds on their weapons before going back into the fight with renewed and vicious vigor. They had to finish this early so that they can see you. They barely had time to look at your feeds once the fight broke out but they couldn't ignore the foreboding feeling they got when they received your alert.

"We'll be at the house by then, make sure she's safe."

...

Nightwing could barely hide his worry as he frantically changed into the spare civilian clothes he kept in a bag right there in his own car before booking it, with Red Hood hot in his trail in his motorcycle. He already put in your coordinates in the screen on his dashboard, it began tracking the tracking device they had planted on your phone for such emergencies.

He watched as your icon ran through streets without rhyme or reason, and in the rain no less. He bit his lip, you must be terrified.

Red Hood had already taken off his helmet and had shoved it into the underseat storage of his motorcycle before following Nightwing. It was all he needed to do to transition to his 'civilian' attire. He didn't care about the rain that pelted him and soaked his clothes as he drove with the single-minded intent of finding you.

He pulled up a feed on the little monitor on the instrument display of his bike, it showed you from the image quality of street cameras running frantically in the rain. Fuck, what if you got sick?

Nightwing's—now Dick Grayson—voice called to him from the comms they both still wore, "Jay! She's up heading towards the 6th. Intercept her from the other side. I'll wait for you both there."

Jason Todd revved up his bike and broke away from the main street to cut through alleyways to beat you there. He haphazardly parked his bike next to a pile of trashbags and ran out of the dark alley and into the sidewalk. He wasn't all that worried about his bike, the Red Hood symbol emblazoned on it's side should deter most people from even touching it. But if it did get stolen, then he could just as easily replace or track it.

None of that mattered more than finding you, though.

Once he ran up to 6th street, he immediately zeroed in on you. You were standing a few blocks away from him, your clothes looked rumpled and you were positively drenched from the rain. There was a glazed look in your eyes even from this distance and he called your name as he slowly approached.

The way you had reacted to him, sobbing and grasping at him as if he was your lifeline, broke him. And he held you even closer as he let your tears mix with the rain that soaked his shirt.

Even though, he knew he was part of the reason for that.

...

Once you were finally situated at the house with all the Wayne men surrounding you (protecting you), you were quiet and withdrawn. A stark contrast from the bright and warm air that you seemed to bring with you everywhere you go. It had taken some coaxing, but you finally opened up to them about your problems at home for the first time since knowing them. And they all were aware how you tried to sugarcoat it and minimize the worst of your pain and that hurt. (Didn't you trust them?)

And once your injury was brought to light, they were furious.

Once you were being taken care of by Alfred, they pulled up the feed of the time they had missed while they were dealing with the drug-ring bust. They all watched, with surmounting horror, the way your stepmom had ruthlessly beaten you into the ground and had shouted such horrible words at you.

To say that they were infuriated was an understatement. The magnitude of their shared rage could never be encompassed by any measure in the known world.

They were down-right murderous.

How could you have gotten hurt on their watch?

... ∆ ∆ ∆ ...

"Staying there would've only hurt her more." Tim's quiet voice interjected, suddenly appearing on Dick's other side. Damian gave him a passing, acknowledging glance before his green eyes returned to your prone form on the other side of the glass.

Tim had his hands in the pockets of his favorite hoodie as he watched you with a solemn expression. "I don't regret what we did." He stated firmly. "When I was in her shoes, I remember all the pain I went through and always wished that someone would save me."

Dick turned to his brother and slung his arm over his shoulder before bringing him into a side hug. Tim leaned into his brother a little as he joined them in watching over you. Something in him settled as he watched the steady rise and fall of your chest, it was comforting to know that you were here, even if the circumstances that had led to your arrival had been unfortunate. He couldn't help but think about the similarities the both of you shared.

But unlike you, Tim had been lucky enough to have the opportunity to save himself, when he chose to become part of this family of vigilantes and chose to become one himself. He didn't want you to feel alone like he did in his previous life. And now you would never have to feel that way again.

Tim's voice was resolute as he spoke to his oldest brother, "and we saved her, Dick. I can't ever regret that."

Dick reached up to ruffle the already messy hair of his brother. "I know, Timmy." He said softly.

Still, the guilt lingered (as it will for a longer time still, like a jagged pebble inside the shoes of his psyche) as Dick watched your prone form sleeping peacefully on the hospital bed. He had a part to play in your injured state and he could never truly scrub himself of the guilt that came with that.

But you were here now, and you were safe. That was all that mattered to them.

And Dick would rather regret the things he's done rather than leaving you there to suffer by yourself.

...

Does this count as part 3?? Idk, y'all decideee. I just wanted to write a small insight on the boys and a BTS on what happened during that night. Like, isn't it just so juicy how yandere tendencies can clash with a hero's moral code and how it affects and manifests for each member?? Anyways, sorry that Bruce weren't in this part that much ;v;

Lemme know if y'all want more from this, and let me hear your thoughts! Constructive criticism is always welcome with me (whether it's you pointing out a grammatical error or a faulty tense) :>>

I'll start on the first part once I've posted this, I've barely edited this lmaooo. Thank you and enjoy!

#yandere fic #yandere x reader #yandere fanfiction #yandere imagines #yandere batfam #yandere batman #yandere dick grayson #yandere jason todd #yandere tim drake #yandere damian wayne #yandere x you #yandere imagine #fanfic

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stellabk · 7 days ago

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FVRY OF THE FIRE

Part IV

Author’s note - Hi! So, I thought I posted part 4 last night after work, and I looked and it was gone. Not just form tumblr, but also my google docs so I had a heart attack. I cried since I had to rewrite it, but this one turned out better than the original in my opinion, so I hope you like it!

Summary - No amount of delaying could push the wedding off any longer. Deianira is forced to marry the tyrant that her father has sent her and her sister to bring down, yet she seems to grow a small soft spot for him.

Warning(s) - blood, violence, a bit of sexual abuse, public displays of affection; of you see any grammar mistakes or missed warnings please let me know!

Deianira’s eyes fluttered open as the sun shone through the curtains that billowed above the balcony. She smiled at the feeling of the sun warming her cheeks and the chill the gentle breeze brought. It would have been a day she would’ve loved to enjoy if it weren’t for the harsh realization that she was to be married today. Her smile faded as it weighed her down, making her groan as she threw her feet from off the side of the plush bed.

“Good morning, your grace. Today is the day!” Aelia entered with a tray of fresh fruits and bread that still steamed from its warmth. Aelia handed her an apple from the tray, smiling at the way her mistress scrunched her nose in distaste at her statement. “I know it’s not ideal, but I’m selfishly glad that you are stuck with me, ma’am.”

”There is no other woman who I enjoy being trapped in a grand palace with.”

Deia had spent all morning with Aelia and a few other maidservants, first getting scrubbed and polished in the bathhouse like a priceless artifact, emerging smelling of apple blossoms and pomegranate. They lined her eyes with kohl, rouged her cheeks a delicate cherry color, glossed her nails, and adorned her with jewels and finery from the top of her head to her toes. She looked like a proper empress now with all of the embellishments, not able to take her eyes off the new mirror that had been brought in while she bathed. The sight of herself made her forget just how miserable she felt only moments ago.

“They will be expecting you at the temple, empress. Come,” Aelia motioned for the future empress to follow as they delicately bounced through the halls, smiling and laughing.

In front of the temple, Deia’s sinking feeling returned as she stood on the other side of the doors, knowing just what awaited her on the other side.

“Lia, dear, how many people would you say are inside?”

”The whole court of important politicians and close friends of the emperors, I’m sure, but do not fret. Just look to your future husband and all shall turn out right.”

’If that doesn’t work, your sister is sure to be close to Caracalla; look at her and she shall erase all tension you feel,” another servant chimed in.

Deia faced the door once more, shimmying her feet further back into her sandals, and took one last deep breath before the door opened before her. The people stood and stared at her in awe, looking as if a true goddess had stepped in their midst. Deia forced her heavy lead feet forward, pushing herself to where Emperor Geta stood waiting for her. He had a smile on his face that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He seemed exhausted. She shook the thought from her head, instead opting for focusing on the floor. She couldn’t look at her sister or she would cry, knowing that there was no escape for either of them.

She grew closer and closer to the end of the aisle, her steps growing heavier with every pace she made. She stopped in front of the two stairs that kept her from Geta, a hand with a ring on every finger outstretching into her line of vision. She looked up to see her future husband smiling at her, and she took the hand, breaking the invisible barrier that kept her from standing at his side.

The officiant stood in front of the both of them, rambling on about the Gods in a monotonous, bland tone that made Deia want to yawn. She glanced at Geta through her peripheral, noticing he no longer smiled and looked like he had been drinking. He smelled as if he’d been drinking too. She turned back to the officiant, bored out of her mind. He continued to drone on, the future empress tuning him out and looking at the grand statue of the God Mars looking down on them, helmet just showing his eyes and spear in his hand. She looked at him wondering why his eyes seemed to be so full of life unlike the other statues she had seen around the palace. A cough broke her concentration on the statue, snapping her attention back to the officiant.

“You may kiss your bride, emperor.”

The two of them faced each other, Geta’s superficial smile returning to his face, as he reached a shaky hand toward her cheek. He leaned in, placing a kiss on her lips ever so gently. He pulled away, releasing a sigh. The crowd cheered for the newlywed couple.

A banquet was held with the same people who were at the ceremony to celebrate the new union and empress, food and the best reserves of wine were laid out on a grand table. Deia walked around without her groom, examining the decoration and getting stopped by a few people to voice their congratulations. She looked toward the center of the table, a rhinoceros head with its meats delicately and morbidly served as if it were a common dish. She shuddered at the sight, swallowing the bile that raised in her throat at the sight. She took deep breaths as she made to exit the banquet hall and look over the railing down at the city below. It was beautiful this time of night, the stars sparkled in the sky as the chatter of men and women of the market packed up their valuables to go back to their homes.

”Lovely, isn’t it?”

Deia startled and turned around quickly, bracing herself on the railing to prevent her fall. Geta chuckled at the reaction as he grew closer and looked out over the city beside her. “I love coming up here when the city looks like this. You can hear every conversation below from here.”

”It is quite nice,” Deia looked at him, her back still resting against the edge of the railing. “Have you come to push me over and tell the court that your young bride has met her untimely demise?”

Geta laughed once again. “I actually came to make sure you were alright. It must have been something quite bad for a bride to leave her own wedding celebration.”

”It was,” she looked at her feet, Geta looking at her now with a twinge of anger that someone could have potentially ruined the party for his empress. “There was a rhinoceros’s head just lying on the table. I thought surely I would become ill.”

Geta let out the loudest, most genuine laugh as his head fell into the palm of his hand, Deia’s tension flying away as she allowed herself to laugh with him. Geta relaxed in the silence, watching as the moonlight made his bride's hair resemble cooling embers. He felt at peace as if all the voices screaming in his head had silences to stand in awe of her as well. His peace was broken as the door opened, a voice growing closer. He didn’t think, it was stupid to pull her in, yet he did. He pushed the sleeve of her shoulder down and sank his teeth in, the other hand flying to her mouth before she could yelp.

”Oh, brother. I didn't mean to interrupt time with your bride… at least defile her in your own chambers instead of the corridors, dog.”

Geta pulled his mouth from Deia’s shoulder, turning to his brother. “I wished for everyone to know she was mine, that is all.”

”Well, they requested you back in the banquet hall. They wish to make a toast soon.”

Caracalla shook his head with a smirk as he returned to the celebration. Geta turned back to his bride, a swift, sturdy hit landed to his gut. He slumped to his knees in slow motion, seeing that Deianira had kicked him, which made him smirk through a grimace.

”If you wanted me to come to my knees, wife, all you had to do was ask.”

She grabbed him by the hair, yanking his head so he could look at her face. “A mark for a mark. To think I almost enjoyed a sliver of time with you. Know this, it shall be the last for as long as I breathe. Goodnight, husband.”

She dropped the hold she had on his hair, storming off toward her room and leaving him alone in the darkened hall. He collected himself off the floor, hearing Caracalla beginning a toast in the hall as he stood against the cold stone wall to listen in, still holding his stomach where it ached. Caracalla quipped that Geta was supposed to make the toast to his bride, but had most likely disappeared to consummate the marriage. The crowd of mostly men had laughed heartily, but Geta felt a pain in his chest. He knew why he had bitten her, but he doubted she would stop to hear him out. Still, he had to try to explain himself. He ran down the hallway that his bride had run down, trying to catch up.

Deia slammed the door to her bedchambers, letting all of her anger explode in a loud scream that echoed through the room and shook nearby objects. She took off rings and threw them on tables, taking one of her sandals off and chucking it at the door. The shoe sailed through the air, and Geta entered, ducking just in time to narrowly evade the hurling sandal.

“Have you come to sink your teeth in again, your highness, or was one lashing not enough for you?”

Geta glanced at the sandal that had slipped through the crack in the door he had just come through, then back at Deianira. “I hope you plan to get that later on.”

Deia growled, taking off the other sandal, ready to throw the second one. Geta held his hands up in surrender. “I came to see if you would hear me out.”

”I will hear nothing from you after your vulgar display. Get out or I swear my aim will ring true with this sandal.”

“You have to be the most stubborn woman of akk I have ever met, have you ever been told that?”

Deia shrugged, still holding the sandal above her head. “Once or twice before. Now leave me to my peace.”

”I don’t think you know the definition of peace. You seem to be of the bloodline of Mars.”

”I knew peace until you and your tyrant brother forced me here. Just because you knew no fatherly love does not mean you had to rip me and my sister from ours!” She got in his face, spittle flying to his cheek. The blow had been delivered, an arrow right through Geta’s chest. He felt as if it were a real attack and that he would crumble in a bloody heap on the floor.

”I shall grant you the peace you want. Goodnight, empress.”

As he left, closing the door behind him, the second sandal was launched, colliding with the door as it closed. The thud shaking Geta to his core.

Geta entered his own bed chambers, his servant behind him.

”Are you sure, emperor? This seems to be quite extreme.”

”Quite sure. If the court were to find out, they would treat her cruelly. We must ensure she stays in good graces. If you tell a soul, you shall be thrown in the Coliseum before first light, understood?”

The man watched the emperor as he sat on the bed with the small knife in his hand, holding the handle out to the servant. The servant nodded, taking the blade, and cut a small incision on the emperor’s thigh. Geta hissed, but bit it back as the crimson flowed and made a small pool on the white bed linens. He nodded, satisfied by the result, as the servant began to cleanse his leg. Though satisfied, Geta only stared into the red stain with a grim expression, his thoughts only echoing one thing: she will be safe now.

#emperor geta x fem reader #emperor geta x female reader #emperor geta fanfic #emperor geta fanfiction #emperor geta x reader #emperor geta #gladiator ii smut #gladiator 2 smut #gladiator ll #gladiator ii #gladiator 2 #joseph quinn gladiator #joseph quinn #joseph quinn fanfiction #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic

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ellieslaces · 1 year ago

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DANCING WITH OUR HANDS TIED.

part I ; part II ; part III ; part IV

featuring: prince!leon x princess!reader (royalty au)

synopsis: the Crown Prince, Leon, had never desired to marry, but obviously the decision was never up to him. his mind is slowly, and ultimately changed when he meets you, his betrothed

content warnings: harsh language; mentioned violence; strangers to lovers; mutual pining; little angst; misogynistic themes; eventual smut (more detail in later chapters)

notes: royalty au; Leon is an Italian Prince; user is British/English; some old English dialect; misogynistic themes bc this is based on old views of royal women’s only purpose to bare children; Leon’s family’s palace is based on Palazzo Ducale in Venice

word count: 2.83k

chloe talks: yeah ok, I caved. a royalty au has been on my mind for a little bit and while listening to Dancing With Our Hands Tied by Taylor Swift on the way to my endocrinologist appointment today, I had to write this. this is partially inspired by a bot on c.ai by wesker420 and another royalty au fic on here by @hispg so I don’t take full credit for the idea. but anyways, enjoy

playlist

Leon had never desired to marry, he never believed a happy marriage was in the cards for him. Especially when his mother and father were the only example set for him all his life. He was content with a life of politics — council and war meetings, endless nights spent in local taverns, his bed warmed by women who didn’t mean anything to him. Until he met you.

You were a princess from the North, a born and bred English noblewoman. And you were terribly single and of marrying age. Your country and Leon’s country were in dire need of allies, so naturally you were introduced to each other as betroths.

Of course, this was far from an easy process for either one of you. Leon did not wish to marry at all, and you wished to marry for love, not convenience. This was a damning future for the both of you.

And it only became increasingly worse as your marriage date was pushed closer — a fortnight away now. Your family traveled to Leon’s castle, staying there for the next two weeks. Your family was set to leave the night of the wedding, leaving you completely alone with a man you were forced to spend the rest of your life with and his family.

This arrangement was far from ideal for you. You knew next to nothing of the Crown Prince. And he knew nothing of you either. It was an unfortunate affair — two young nobles who could have anyone or anything now tied down to each other by pressing expectations. It was truly a tragedy.

It became increasingly apparent to Leon that you were miserable in this arrangement the day you arrived a fortnight before the wedding ceremony. He and his family greeted your family in the throne room — much more lavish and beautiful than your own at home — and he could so clearly see how dismayed you were.

Hell, he couldn’t blame you. A young woman, beautiful and intelligent, brought up with the best opportunities available to her was now being sold off as a piece of property. All for peace among nations. Leon supposed he could complain, but he was a man. He wasn’t tied down by the duties of being a wife as you would be. He felt bad for you — even if some small part of him resented you for this sickening arrangement.

Soon enough, you were carted off to your chambers where you would reside until the night of the wedding ceremony. Your mother tried her best to console you, saying it wasn’t as bad as it seemed. It was futile though, you were set to be miserable. To be resentful of how your parents could sell you off to the highest bidder for a bit of political gain.

Though, the palace grounds were beautiful. High ceilings covered in extravagant artwork, glass windows, the grand canal right outside the Eastern side of the palace. There was much to explore in the two weeks you’d spend there — or the rest of your life.

You spent the first week of your stay exploring the castle. Looking at the array of artwork, the different rooms. You did this mostly alone, your mother would occasionally join when she was not required to sit through perilously long political meetings. When she was not able to join you, your handmaiden — and best companion — Maria, would walk with you.

Always a few paces behind to keep up appropriate appearances. Though, Maira more than often would end up walking beside you.

In fact, it was three days after your initial arrival that Leon saw you for the first time, alone. You had decided to take advantage of the pleasant Italian spring day and explore the West gardens. Maria was walking beside you grinning, hands folded in front of her as she informed you of the latest gossip among the grand palace’s servants.

That was also the first time Leon had ever heard you laugh. You had a gloved hand covering your mouth, the sudden sound of your lilting laughter causing him to immediately stand as you rounded a corner of the hedges.

Leon has simply come outside to study a leather bound book of political speeches his father had written, sitting on the bench to also enjoy the weather. At the sudden sight of the prince, Maria stopped in her tracks, eyes wide and bent at the waist in a bow.

Maria’s sudden prostrate position caused you to pause as well, dropping your hand and looking up at the prince — your betrothed.

You as well, curtsied, face ground-ward as your smile fell in an instant. “Your highness.”

Leon almost smiled then, at the sight of your sudden respect and change of attitude. He bowed his own head as you straightened, offering the same sign of respect. “Princess. I hope you are enjoying the grounds.”

“Yes, your highness, I am. Thank you.” You nodded, your eyes hesitant to look in his direction. It didn’t go amiss to Leon that your cheeks had been painted in a pink tint as well.

“Good,” he nodded, at a loss for what else to say. His eyes darted to Maria, your handmaiden who had righted herself and taken a few steps back. He nodded to her as well, offering a kind smile.

This was the first time you’d felt any form of warmth for the prince. His subtle kindness to your handmaiden, whom any other noble would dutifully ignore. It brought a small smile to your lips, eyes finally meeting his as he looked at you.

“What are you reading?” You questioned, eyes flicking to the leather bound book in Leon’s hands. An awkward attempt to be polite.

“Just some political notes my father wrote up for me to review. He has been pushing me to be more involved as of late, my future quickly approaching as he likes to say.” Leon’s head tilted to the side, motioning to the book.

To his surprise, your interest had seemed to pique. “Anything interesting?” You asked, voice soft yet filled with an element of excitement. A princess interested in politics was not something the prince had ever come across.

“Not particularly, just some civilian requests and meeting reviews.” He shrugged, seeming bored. However, you seemed anything but.

“I see.” You stepped forward a bit, seeming to be a bit hesitant but foraging on nonetheless. “I do hope I am not being forward, but, I wonder if you would mind informing me of anything you hear in the meetings.”

Leon frowned at this. “You are not invited to meetings?” He didn’t realize you may not have a place in the political side of royalty.

You shook your head, a small look of annoyance gracing over your gentle features. “No, my father says it isn’t a princess’ place. He believes I am far too delicate for such heavy matters.”

Leon could tell how much it annoyed you, despite the fact that you never explicitly said it did. He frowned, nodding to himself.

He looked back up at you — his lips pulled into a devastating smirk that nearly took your breath away. “Well, princess, you have my word. I will inform you of anything I hear from future meetings.”

You hadn’t expected him to actually agree. Most men would have said you were being silly and had no need to hear such trivial matters. It made that prior spark of warmth blossom into a small flame in your chest.

He was kind. Not just handsome — horribly so, which you and Maria agreed upon — but he had a good heart. No matter his seemingly rough exterior, you could see the prince meant well.

“Well, thank you, your highness. I deeply appreciate it.” You smiled, that pink tint on your cheeks ever present as the prince stepped forward to you.

“Of course, princess. If there is anything I can do to make your stay any more pleasant, please do let me know. We are going to be married, are we not?” He offered with a half smirk, bowing his head again.

“Thank you, your highness.” Your own lips pulled into a small smile as Leon gently gripped your gloved hand, pressing his lips to the back of it with a whisper of a kiss. He smiled again, dropping your hand and walking away, through the hedges of the gardens.

He was kind, you’d somewhat expected that, but you hadn’t expected him to be so romantic. At least, that’s how you would put it. You’d met your fair share of suitors, each appealing in their own way. But none had ever offered you the kindness or grace Leon had. It was dizzying.

And those dizzying thoughts plagued you always. The kindness in his eyes, his devastating smirk, his gentle voice — it all stayed in your mind. Never leaving you a moment to breathe. Maybe, he wasn’t so bad. It was entirely possible that you wouldn’t be miserable here. However, you decided to make that decision upon whether or not Leon kept his promise.

And to your surprise, he had. Two days later, you awoke in the late morning to a small stack of parchment on your nightstand. The top sheet displaying your name in what could only be Leon’s swirling handwriting.

You’d laid in bed for two hours that morning to read through the notes of every meeting for the past week that you’d been there, missing breakfast. It wasn’t in Leon’s hand script, but in a neater script. The official royal note taker, you assumed. But it was all so interesting.

Never had you been informed of any such political activity before, unless it was pressing or dangerous. It was a refreshing feeling to be informed. To know things like anyone else.

You’d read over the papers, soaking in each word until your eyes hurt. Until you committed each event listed and discussed to memory. In sudden realization of how kind the act truly was, you racked your brain for a way to thank Leon. It was possible he could be punished for this, you didn’t know exactly how confidential this information was.

It wasn’t until dinner the following night after you’d received the papers that you saw the prince again. You had been seated beside him for the first time — probably due to visiting political figures. It was quiet between the two of you, a bit awkward, because what were you supposed to say? The men were all conversing about the situation in the West, Leon looking bored and not caring much to weigh in. So you took your chance.

“I wanted to thank you for the notes.” You spoke up, quiet as only Leon could hear you as you pushed the food on your plate around.

The prince paused, his glass raised to his lips as he sipped the maroon wine. “I trust you enjoyed them?”

“Very much. Thank you, it means a lot to me you did that.” You looked at Leon as he set his wine glass down, offering him a smile to display how much you truly did appreciate the kindness.

“Of course, princess. I am just glad to offer you some solace here. Whether it be politics or roses.” He joked, blue eyes glimmering in the bright candlelit dining hall.

You set down your fork, sipping from your own glass before looking at him again. “I do hope I did not get you into any trouble.”

“No. And even if you did, it would be worth it. So long as you are happy here.” Again, the prince’s kindness was overwhelming. You smiled, cheeks tinged pink again.

“You flush a lot. Is this normal for you, or is it just me?” The prince questioned with a teasing lilt.

A small laugh fell from your lips, shaking your head. “I am afraid it is just you.” You nodded to him, head tilted to the side.

The prince offered you another smile, sipping from his glass before his father began to speak to him, in a way forcing him to engage in conversation. For the first time in your life, you could listen to a discussion of political issues and know what was happening. And it was all thanks to a kind prince.

You sat through the dinner, a small smile taking permanent residence on your pink lips. Eyes sparkling with quiet knowledge.

It was then Leon realized he liked your smile. And it was then you realized you could fall in love with Leon.

2023 ellieslaces please do not repost, rewrite, translate, or submit my work to AI or any other platform. please support your creators by reblogging, liking, and following!

how you can support Palestine! 🇵🇸

#leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #resident evil 4 #resident evil #royalty au #leon #kennedy #prince leon Kennedy #resident evil 4 remake #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy re4 #Taylor Swift #dancing with our hands tied

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little-miss-dilf-lover · 1 year ago

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OMG HI!

Ok so in one of your Pietro headcanons things you said Pietro was a morning person and let me tell you I am most certainly not so can I request Pietro x non morning person reader headcanons 💕💕 I can just imagine him running super fast around her in circles and her just looking at him like 🤨-😐-😞-😴

hiii!! neither am I!! im just a grumpy miserable bitch in the morning😭 that’s very cute! thanks for requesting, hope you like it💌

NOT A MORNING PERSON HC’S

pietro maximoff x female reader

— I def think he's the annoying kind of early bird, one that's like, "you woke up at 9? ive been awake since.." one of those that sorta shames you for sleeping 'late', but he's not mean about it!! just cocky and irritating (but in a kinda cute way (I put that lightly))

— talking of which, he wakes up at 6 am (or 5) naturally. 7 is him being naughty and lazy

— in the morning, he religiously goes for a run. doesn't matter the weather, he's out the door by 6:30

— after the run, he comes back, showers and gets some work done around the house/ flat. maybe does the dishes from last night's dinner like a good little boy (im kidding)

— maybe he makes himself some breakfast, def something VERY healthy with lots of (idek!!? im not a health nut, but like pulses, wholegrains????) maybe eggs, sourdough and a big bowl of porridge with berries and nuts on the side. he's a freak, so he has no butter on the toast and no chocolate in the porridge. he def has a mid-morning lunch too, just bc he's constantly burning so much

— by 9, he's done everything he needs to do for the day, so he'd go and check on you, seeing you sleeping soundly - probs wanting to wake you up

— he'd whisper your name loudly, maybe prodding you awake. you'd open one eye, giving him a death glare. you'd huff and roll over, sleepily telling him to get lost

— he'd try again, maybe stroking over your back (as you’re now facing away ) you'd grumble, covering your face with a pillow or your arm

— he'd whiz around the other side of the bed, trying to coax you out to start the day he planned. he'd see how tired you are, so he drops it, kissing your forehead and saying how he'll be back in 10 to wake you

— he'd return and see you flat-out asleep, giving you another 20

— when he returns the second time, you're awake, yawning and rubbing sleep from your eyes. he'd say good morning, and tell you look pretty. also calling you a sleepy head or something

— when you're finally up and about, he'd be kinda hyper (not like a kid) but VERY awake whereas you'd be the complete opposite. yawning, grumbling, rubbing eyes all that stuff

—also, he's always telling you that you should wake up earlier bc it's good for you (blah blah I don't wanna hear it) and you tell him the same - how he should wake up later bc it's better for his health. it causes some lighthearted conflict

— — — — — — — — — — ☆ — — — — — — — — — —

no taglist as don’t want to spam

#request #pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff headcanon #pietro maximoff x reader #pietro x reader #pietro maximoff fluff #pietro marvel

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 2 years ago

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Koala Bear

a/n we are shy from 2k bubbles and since I am dying in bed I thought hey... let's return to our silver fox. Don't be tricked this is purely for self indulgence.

summary: pre-outbreak Joel trying to figure out why his girlfriend has been acting weird, yet the sight he's greeted with is far from what he had imagined, leading to hospital trips, panicked phone calls and a man so in love he's ready to do anything for the woman he loves.

warnings: a new not so much established relationship, period pain/blood, puking, hospitals, fainting, iv's, mention of past sexual interactions.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Joel was desperate to get back home. The traffic in front of him only increased his frustration. This morning felt odd, and the fact that he had to leave you without having a chance to have a proper conversation with you left him uneasy. Joel doubted that he had done anything wrong. At least, he hoped he hadn't. You didn't go to bed upset. You two had cuddled all night. He sure hadn't forgotten any important dates. He had them all marked in the calendar down by the fridge, and the closest one was Tommy's birthday, so it was not something to have you frowning about.

Joel did try to nudge Sarah about it before dropping her off at school, but she just shrugged her shoulders. Murmuring something about how she thought the two of you had just had a fight or something. "But you haven't?", she asked, looking over at her dad. Ever since Joel introduced you to her, she had fallen in love just as hard. You had only moved in the past month. Taking your relationship slow, not wanting to overwhelm Sarah. Yet to some extent, she was even more excited than Joel and you, or even both of you put together. "No, love, we didn't fight", he's quick to reassure her. Making the girl nodded her head.

Joel knew that now that Sarah had grown fond of you and let you into her life, she was scared to lose you. Any bickering, even the lighthearted one, had her squirming. The first time it happened, she nearly had a panic attack. Eyes filling up with tears, she muttered, "Now you will leave", when you found her sitting on the stairs. "Why would I, love bug?", "Well, dad said that stupid stuff about how you can't cook for life", she sniffed, wiping her runny nose with the back of her sleeve. You draped your hand over her shoulders, bringing her closer. "We were only messing around. I'm not leaving you or your dad, even if he's one annoying shit sometimes", you said, wiping her tears away. Making her giggle slightly, as she leaned into you, pressing her body closer to yours.

Joel parked the car in the driveway. Quickly jumping out before opening the back door to take the flowers he had bought for you. He saw them on his way back to his car at work. They reminded him of you. His spring in the midst of the coldest winter. His dainty tulip. In a way, Joel had forgotten what it was like to date. It had been fourteen years, and he wasn't a spring chicken anymore. If he was being honest, he had given up on finding anyone, and the empty side of the bed had long stopped feeling lonely. Well, that was until he met you.

It was a miserable day in Texas. It seemed like the sky had opened. Heavy rain hadn't stopped since early morning. No sign of easing any time soon. Joel was waiting for Tommy. Annoyed that he had to go out in the weather like this. Let alone sit in the car waiting because the younger Miller was late.

Joel was mindlessly listening to the tunes playing on the radio, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, when he saw a figure running across the street. It was hard to make it out fully, but he could tell that it was most definitely a female. The frame seemed way too petite for it to be male. No umbrella. A handful of what seemed like papers above your head had to be soaked through by now. Then there was a light shriek, and Joel saw you slipping onto the pavement with a thud. He sat still until his brain had caught up to what his eyes had just seen, and Joel was jumping out of the car in no time.

Your hand was gripping your ankle as he approached you. Hands in front to not frighten you as you looked up at him. The pain was written all over your face. "That was quite a tumble you took there", Joel said while kneeling next to you. "Oh, tell me you didn't see it…", you whined before trying to sit more comfortably but failing miserably. "Would it make you feel better?", he asked, reaching for your ankle after meeting your eyes and getting an approving nod from you. You let out a sharp cry when Joel's tender fingers touched your skin. The throbbing pain only got stronger. He frowned slightly.

"Might be broken this one. We'll have to get you to the hospital", Joel gently released your already swollen ankle before looking around and trying to catch a glimpse of Tommy by any chance. "We?", you asked, even if it was a silly question. "Well, do you have someone else who could take you? The parking lot seems pretty empty to me", he teased back, moving to support your back as he got into a more comfortable position to pick you up.

"I would so slap you if I didn't need your help, you peacock", you grumbled, but Joel only laughed. Laughed and got struck by the realization that he was indeed laughing with another woman. "Right, well, you can sit here and look pretty than", "Don't you dare to walk away", your fingers gripped his shirt as you pulled yourself closer to his chest. Even through the layers of your wet clothes, you could feel his warmth seeping into your skin, making you shiver. Only now realizing just how cool you truly were. "Okay, koala bear", he muttered, tightening his arms around your body as he carried you to his truck.

The house was awfully quiet. Joel looked around the entrance room. Your shoes and coat were untouched. He had kicked one of your heels by accident this morning while he was rushing to get Sarah to school on time. It was laid out just as he had left it. Meaning you had stayed at home. The older Miller scowled. Fridays weren't your days off. And your boss wasn't the one to hand out free days, so something was wrong. Had to be wrong.

Joel left the flowers on the kitchen counter and slipped into the living room. Scanning the room. A blanket lay messily shrugged onto the floor. A shred of evidence that you had indeed been here at some point. "Y/N", he calls out your name softly, not too loudly, just in case you were asleep upstairs. No response. He crept around the first floor, ready to go upstairs until an open door to the downstairs bathroom caught his attention. You always keep that door closed. It annoyed you because if it got left open, the defuser scent slipped into the house. Joel walked closer, and his heart jumped into his throat at the sight.

Your head was resting on the toilet seat. Skin pale as paper. Your breathing seemed labored. Yanking the door fully open, Joel practically fell into the tight space. "Darling", his fingers instantly pressed onto your forehead. It was clammy but not warm enough for a fever. "I'm fine…", you crocked out, trying to open your eyes but failing miserably. "Looks a lot more like the opposite of fine to me, lovie", he says, quick to flush the water in the toilet that you didn't have the strength to do yourself before sitting down by your side, pulling your body into him. You let out a sharp cry. Head lulling back, hitting Joel's chest. The worry inside him only grew. You looked so weak and worn out as if you had been sick for weeks.

"What's hurting, koala bear? Tell me what's wrong?", Joel pushed away the strands of hair that were sticking to your damp forehead carefully. He was starting to get desperate, but you only shook your head and said, "All good, just need a moment", You brassed yourself onto Joel's chest. The dizziness clouded your mind once more, making you lean your forehead onto your boyfriend for support. You could feel the room spinning. Joel said nothing. A part of him wanted to demand an answer, but you were way too cool for it. Then you jerked back, scraping for the toilet once more as you dipped your head, gagging. Joel reached for your hair, pulling it away from your face as he moved to rub your back slightly.

"Go", you said, trying to shove him away with the hand that was closest to him. But you were too tired, and Joel was too strong and stubborn. There was no way he was leaving you in a state like this. "Breathe through it", Joel said to you instead, choosing to ignore your plea. You shook your head, your hand moving down to your stomach as you hunched over. Yet another cry of pain slipped past your lips. Had you eaten something funny? But you all had dinner and breakfast together. Neither he nor Sarah was feeling anything, so surely it couldn't have been food.

"I'm taking you to the hospital", "No", you sat down on the cold tiles, pushing Joel away from you as best as you could. Welcoming the cool sensation of the floor, which eased nausea ever so slightly. But the cold, hot shiver still ran all over your body. Making your hands and legs tingle. "I wasn't suggesting it", Joel said firmly, reaching for you. He was about to lift you, nudging your legs so you would wrap them around his torso when his eyes drifted to a red patch on the gray tiles from where he had pulled you closer to him.

Your eyes followed his gaze, and you gasped, turning to press your hands onto the red patch. "No, no, no", you muttered anxiously. Your eyes picked up tears as you shied away from Joel now. Yes, you two had been together for a bit, and yes, he had a teenage daughter at that house and was probably the only man who wasn't phased by the thought and sight of period blood, but your insides shrink in size at the sight of it.

"Hey, no…", Joel reached for your palms in an attempt to move them from the stick surface, but you shrugged him off. "It's all okay; don't worry about it", he's quick to reassure you. Now it all makes sense to him. You must have been starting to feel off this morning or you must have gotten your period. That explained why you were so restless in the morning. A whole day by yourself like this. You should have called him. Should have let him know. Joel shrugged the towel off the hanger, dampening it in the sink, before he once again got closer to you.

"No, Joel,", you pleaded once more, but the male-only gave you a look. "Lovie, I've cleaned my cum off your legs…", "That's not the same", you cut in quickly, trying to figure out a way to push Joel out of the bathroom. But he just wrapped his hand around your wrist, pulling it up to whip it against the damp towel, repeating the motion for your other hand as well, before he threw it onto the floor and scrubbed at the remaining blood.

He leaned in, pressing a kiss on your shoulder. Your breathing was still uneven. Hands were now digging into your lower stomach. He wondered what his next move should be. Sarah had started her period about a year ago. Joel had learned to juggle her emotions pretty quickly. Learned to read between the lines. To provide comfort in all the different ways if she chose to shut her dad out for a day or two. But they talked; they always talked. Joel was used to Sarah coming up to tell him when the sharks entered the ocean. Your limits were still somewhat new to him.

Your body felt heavy. So heavy and weak. Another wave of warm coldness ran through you, and your vision was filled with tiny black dots. "Joel…", you called out lightly, and his eyes were instantly on you. Your eyes only rolled to the back of your head, hands slipping from beneath you as your body bucked forward. Joel was quick to catch you. Lowering you to the floor as he tapped lightly on your cheek.

He doesn't remember the last time he was in the hospital. Well, besides the time he brought you here with a broken ankle. But that was some time ago. Some years of friendship and falling in love slowly ago. You were slipping in and out of consciousness. That was where he had drawn a line. Scooping you into his arms and heading straight for the hospital. A phone in his pocket buzzed. Joel ignored it at first, but then pulled it out, pressing it to his ear. "Miller", he said bluntly, "Dad…".

Joel cursed under his breath. In the chaos of it all, he had forgotten about Sarah. He left the bathroom a mess. There was both vomit and blood in some places. "Hey, baby girl,", he tried to keep his voice calm, "Is uncle Tommy with you, baby?" But Joel's almost convinced that Sarah is now standing by the bathroom door, looking inside. "What happened? Where are you? Where's Y/N?", her voice was trembling slightly. "Go up to your room, baby. We had to go to the hospital for a bit".

The line goes silent, and he knows that she hasn't moved an inch. "Is Y/N dead? She…", "Of course, she is not silly; scrap those thoughts out of your mind. She's got a bit unwell, that's all". He knew that the bathroom looked worse than it was, but then again, he wasn't there to guide Sarah away from it. "Can I talk to her?", she asked almost shyly. Joel let out a sigh. "Doctor is with her, love bug. I'll call you as soon as I can put her on the phone, okay?", Joel assumed that Sarah must be nodding. The sound of Tommy in the background eased his worries. She wasn't alone. Sarah wasn't alone, so that meant that for now, Joel would focus on you.

When the nurse lets him into your room, you're hooked up to the drip. The other arm bandaged where they must have drawn blood. The color has returned to your skin. You're munching on a sandwich that a nurse must have brought for you, smiling at the woman who double-checks the IV before picking up the tray with little needles and things . "Your boyfriend here walked holes in the hospital floor", the elderly lady smiles, patting you on your shoulder. You meet Joel's eyes. Eyes that were still filled with so much worry. Merry said that you looked rough when you just got there. Delusional and all. Had vomited all over yourself during the ride here. The lack of fluids and minimal intake, mixed with a really heavy flow of your period, had made your body shut off for a moment.

"But she's all good; two more drips, and she should be good to go", Turning to Joel, she gave him a warm smile as well before excusing herself. You placed your sandwich back on the tray. Reaching your hand toward your boyfriend. Joel let out a sigh as he stepped closer, taking hold of your hand before pulling it closer to his lips.

"I've gained at least half ahead of new gray hair", he said quietly, leaning against your forehead. You let out a quiet giggle. "Ah, I was wondering what was making you so much more handsome all of a sudden", your words made Joel smile, but the worry lacing his features didn't fade. "You frightened me, koala bear. I thought I was going to…", but Joel just shook his head. Not allowing himself to say those words. Trying to scrape away the image of your unconscious body in his arms.

You moved to run your fingers over his forehead and down his cheek. "Wasn't my intention", you said softly, and Joel nodded. "No, I know just… Should have told me you had started your period. Would have been there for you. Would have helped". Your eyes searched his before you leaned in to pack his lips softly. "I'm not letting you miss your shift because I'm bleeding", "Well, I would. Because you come first. Always have, always will". You shake your head in disbelief at how lucky you are to have a man like Joel in your life. "Eat up; you need to get your strength back", Joel takes the sandwich in his hands, moving it closer to your lips. Smiling to himself as you take a nice big bite. Okay. You were going to be just okay, and you wwere never going to go through any of this on your own. Never let it get to a point like this again.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

TLOU taglist: @theslytherinwriter @daddysfavoritesexkitten @randomstory56 @woofgocows @ohthemisssery

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller imagine #joel miller #the last of us imagine #the last of us imagines #the last of us x reader #the last of us x you #the last of us #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x reader

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nhescio · 10 months ago

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Okay I have a visceral need for a hannigram time travel fic but instead of the typical Will or Hannibal fix-it, the person that time travels back is none other than Frederick fucking Chilton. Like imagine Chilton wallowing around all crispy and stuff after being human torched wondering what he’s done to deserve everything he’s been through. And when he’s finally okay enough to be discharged from the hospital to go home, an anvil falls on him or smth. And as he’s lying there incredulously, he’s like, yknow what? Im not even upset about this. I think Ive suffered enough near death experiences. Please just let this one put me out of my misery. And as his eyes finally drift shut, he hears an alarm blaring in his face. An alarm from his phone. His phone which, when he goes to shut it off, displays an impossible sequence of numbers— the plastic screen shinning with a date from four years past.

So after freaking out and confirming that he is indeed in the past, (and weeping in joy over his unmutilated body) Frederick does the obvious— he packs his bags, pays a visit to the bank, and gets on the next available flight out of the country.

And then his plane crashes and he dies.

But of course he doesn’t die because that seems to be a common theme in Frederick Chilton’s life!

So he’s jolting out of bed again to that same alarm and he tries not to tear his own face off (not that he would ever actually do that cause he knows how easily he could lose that precious face). And (after a few more tries) since this time loop bs isn’t letting him run away, he does the next best thing— phoning the FBI with a tip so that they would investigate Hannibal Lecter and put him behind bars for good. But of course Hannibal somehow finds out and discretely shakes the FBI off his trail while simultaneously sending one of his murderer protégés after Frederick. And so not even a month passes by before Frederick finds himself dying and waking to that infuriating alarm again.

And he keeps going through different loops trying to avoid being “murder tableau of the week”, but failing miserably every time. After dying for what feels like an infinite number of times, he’s realized two main consistencies. Number one, he can’t personally expose Hannibal Lecter as the ripper if he doesn’t want to be gutted, and two, the sooner Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter begin their weird courtship, whether from Frederick’s deliberate meddling or from ripples of unrelated actions, somehow he’s left with much less blood and chaos in the aftermath. In one incredible timeline, Frederick even managed to only sustain one life threatening disembowelment for three years before accidentally making a rude comment about Will Graham’s lack of a social life, thereby leading to a cold death in the Atlantic.

After this revelation, he vows to get Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter to bang each other as soon as possible for the sake of his own self preservation— going through elaborate plans like befriending and recruiting the FBI’s forensics team, or snapping Jack Crawford out of his obliviousness so he’d bluntly give them a nudge, or even once flirting with Will Graham himself to get Hannibal Lecter jealous (note: that attempt did NOT end up well).

And one day, after a shocked text from his “Sassy Science Matchmaking Squad” group chat proclaiming that Hannibal and Will, lovingly dubbed Hannigram by the group, had spontaneously quit their jobs and run away to Europe together, Frederick suddenly realizes he hasn’t been stabbed or burned or maimed or drowned or disemboweled once! He thinks back to his early success in this timeline— silently high fiving with Beverly and Jimmy (Zeller, the spoilsport, had refused to partake) while voyeuristically watching Will and Hannibal shyly having their first kiss in the shadows of a filthy crime scene. In fact, he didn’t think anyone in their immediate circle had been stabbed or burned or maimed or drowned or— well you get the point.

And as one year turns to two to four to eight with no word from Hannibal or Will except the occasional postcard, a sort of cautious optimism starts building in Frederick’s heart. The years continue to fly by until one day, Frederick finds that his hair has turned a snowy white, and that his legs are too weak to support his aching body. He tries to take in a breath to laugh but it comes out as a wheeze. He’s at the end of the line once more, but this time at the end of a healthy, fulfilling life. His only wish is that he’s finally allowed to move on. And as he feels his life slowly drifting away from him, Frederick wonders if he’s accomplished whatever divine mission that godforsaken time loop had wanted him to complete. It really feels like he did the best he could this life, preventing every possible death on the East Coast by sending Hannibal and Will packing early. Sure, he feels bad for the poor suckers in Florence or Paris that were probably flambéed for a pretentiously fancy brunch, but realistically, those two would always leave a body count no matter where they went.

All Frederick wants now is to pass in peace. With a heavy sigh, Frederick willingly closes his eyes one last time, content to move on into whatever lies in the beyond.

And he dies. For real this time. Woohoo!

The End

#hannibal #hannigram #hannibal lecter #will graham #frederick chilton #crack pseudo-fic??#i dont know what possessed me to write this #i havent slept for 27 hours #nheswrites

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leafostuff · 1 year ago

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Eyes On me [Ft. IVE's Liz]

Tags: panic attacks comfort, fluff, girlfriend!Liz

Author's note: It's been a while since I wrote for IVE, but I hope this one will do well. Plus, this will be a callback to my wattpad Era, where I used to do more comfort fics.

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there are three kinds of nights in your life.

The first kind is the normal nights, which after hitting the gym, eating dinner, taking a shower, and living overall like a functioning member of society you find yourself falling asleep at 11 PM, maybe 12 AM if you are really not that tired.

The second kind is the nights where you decide to laugh at the concept of sleep, channel your inner shut in and play video games for the whole night, or just goof off with your friends on discord until the sun rises

However, sometimes you have those nights where you find yourself in your bathroom at 3 AM, throwing up all of the food you ate in the entire day and overall being miserable?

Unfortunately, tonight was the third kind of night.

Do you have any idea how you got to this situation? Nope, all you could remember is that around 1 AM, you could only feel your stomach hurting like crazy, your anxiety levels going to the 11 forcing you to go to the bathroom to try and calm yourself

However, even after an hour this was to no avail since still you found yourself throwing up while your eyes were full of tears. "Absolutely fantastic, now the one thing that can fuck me up is-" your thoughts were suddenly stopped by a light touch on your shoulder

As you look up you find your girlfriend Kim Jiwon looking at you, she was wearing a white sweatshirt, which was probably stolen from your closet.

Long black hair just like the night sky and eyes that could show sadness was the only thing you could see from your fully teared eyes as your girlfriend kneeled down before you, letting her arms wrap around your body.

"Another anxiety attack?" She asked since those events were not new to your girlfriend, at least once a month she had to stay up all night with you to try and relax you, to the point it was impressive how she still wanted to stay with you

5 minutes of brushing your teeth and a spare change of pajamas later you walked toward your shared bed with Jiwon as she looked at you with a weak smile, but it was enough to make you feel happy and in the same time: somehow guilty

"Do you know what happened that you are feeling like that?" You simply shook your head in response as she just sighed, "Oh well, it's OK... let's just go to the bed ok? After you brush your teeth" she added, trying to close her nose to block the scent of the puke.

"I don't deserve you." That was the first thing you said while you inched slowly toward Jiwon as she laid her head on your shoulder.

"Ahhhh, so that is what you are anxious about?" She asked while she turned on the TV to a random episode of friends. You could only nod as your girlfriend pulled you into an embrace

"I just..." You hesitated, which in reaction Liz leaned and kissed your forehead. Even after numerous times, she has done that it still surprises you

"Just what?" she asked, he eyes pleading for an answer as you couldn't handle it anymore

"That I am too anxious for you" her reaction could only be puzzled as she tilted her head sideways, letting you explain

"You just... deserve someone who isn't depressed all the time or a scar-" You were shutted by your girlfriend's lips on yours, their sweet taste however was short.

"I. Will. Always. Love. You, " Liz said, each word was spoken clearly as your cheeks turned red from embarrassment. However, as you tried to turn away, both her palms on your cheeks, forcing you to look at her pleading eyes.

"Eyes On me okay baby? I will always love you, say it" she requests as you have no choice but to sigh and comply

"I will always love you" you recited her words as she smiled cutely and pecked your lips.

"Good, now... let's go sleep okay, baby?" She asked, however, as her hands went over to your back she could feel you shake.

"...you are still stressed, right? It's ok, let me help you relax, " she said as her hands reached to your back under your shirt, her fingers lightly tapping on your back, causing you to instinctively let your head find its rest on her chest.

You slowly start to destress yourself by taking deep breaths, "Good baby...I'm here for you," she said while pecking your forehead, "you need this sleep...more than me" she added as you finally close your eyes, the first snore is able to be heard from your unconscious self.

And the last words you manage to hear before fully drifting into dreams.

========================

#kpop fanfic #kpop #fluff #kpop fluff #ive lockscreens #ive messy moodboard #ive fluff #ive #ive liz

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earlgreydream · 2 years ago

Text

🍓 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝟒. || 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤!𝐛𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐜𝐰: 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 (𝐯𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐟𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫), 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐲, 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐠𝐨 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐮

𝐚/𝐧: 𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫! 𝐈 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈’𝐦 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡! 𝐈 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤-𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠-𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲

As hard as Bucky tried to nurse you back to health, you’d been sick for days, dehydrated and burning with fever, unable to keep anything down.

“Babydoll, look at me,” Bucky spoke softly, stroking back your hair as he sat on the edge of your bed.

Your lashes parted just enough that his blurry face came into view, a migraine pounding in your head. Your fingers gingerly slipped over his, your lips trembling as Bucky gently squeezed your hand.

“My friend Steve is a doctor, he’s going to come take a look at you because I think you need some medicine to get better. We’re not kicking this bug on our own,” he tried to speak quietly, praying that you wouldn’t panic like the last time he’d mentioned a doctor.

“Please no,” your whimper was barely audible, eyelids unable to stay open from the exhaustion the illness had wracked on your body.

Bucky sighed, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. He’d already called Steve, the only confidant he could trust with you — to come see about your afflictions. He was scared, seeing you so weak and fragile and a shell of yourself, frightened Bucky into realizing how delicate you were.

You stirred as Bucky slipped from the bed, going to answer the door. You were too miserable to even react, the only indicator of your fear being the increasing heart rate. The bedroom door opened gently, Bucky’s friend Steve following him in after a few minutes of hushed discussion.

“Hi, bunny,” the blond man spoke softly, a beard making his face appear gentle as he knelt beside you, Bucky watching anxiously.

Tears slipped down your cheeks, and you used all your strength to shy away from the hand that reached out to touch your face, unfamiliarity striking terror into you. Your few months with Bucky had trauma bonded you, the only thing scarier than him was someone else.

“Please, don’t be difficult. He’s not going to hurt you, Steve only wants to help,” Bucky promised, pulling you to sit on his lap, the vibranium arm snaking around your waist.

“D-don’t let him hurt me,” you begged into Bucky’s neck.

Steve’s hands were gentle as he felt your fever, his fingers gently massaging your throat to be sure nothing was swollen.

“Gonna press on your stomach, okay? Tell me if it’s uncomfortable. I’ll be real gentle, I promise,” Steve spoke softly, a gentle patience about him that was so dissimilar to Bucky.

Warm palms pressed to your stomach, making you feel like you were going to throw up the little bits of bread and soup you’d had.

“Don’t!” You gasped, spasming against Bucky, pulling your knees to your chest to protect yourself.

“Baby-“

“It’s okay, it’s alright. You’ve definitely got a bad strain of the flu, darling,” Steve diffused Bucky before he could reprimand your outburst and uncooperation.

“I’m going to give you some antibiotics, okay? After a couple days you should feel like a new person. For now though, you’re pretty dehydrated and that’s contributing to how awful you feel. I need to give you an IV and put you on a saline drip to get some fluids in you,” Steve explained patiently, his cornflower blue eyes never leaving yours as he spoke.

“You said he wouldn’t hurt me,” you whispered to Bucky, shrinking back against his chest.

“It won’t be bad, just a quick little pinch and it’ll help you feel so much better,” Bucky promised, one hand rubbing your back, attempting to soothe you.

“You can be good for us, can’t you? I know you feel icky, but I promise I’m going to help,” Steve tenderly touched your cheek, before retrieving an IV needle from his kit.

You laid your arm out, fighting back tears as Bucky held you still, letting Steve stick you as gently as possible. His heart ached at your pained whine from being stuck, hurt in your eyes as he taped the needle down, hanging a bag of fluids beside the bed.

“M’freezing,” you mumbled as the cold seeped through your veins, coupled with your fever to leave you trembling against Bucky’s warm form.

“Here,” he wrapped a fuzzy blanket around you, helping you settle against him, trying to talk you into a nap while you hydrated.

Bucky smeared kisses over your forehead, helping you drift off while Steve went to get some antibiotics for you. The house was quiet, freezing rain coming down on the roof in a rhythm that kept you drowsy.

You didn’t remember Steve coming back, just waking up to him easing the needle out and wrapping the injection spot. He gave you the first dose of the antibiotic, and Bucky informed you that he’d been staying to oversee your recovery.

“Daddy,” you sighed, your skin clammy and sticky from sweat as you sat up.

“I want a bath,” you requested once you earned his attention, wanting to be clean.

Bucky helped you up, frowning at the way you were unsteady on your feet, dizzy as you sat down on the edge of his bathtub, patiently waiting as he filled it with water.

“Can I wash your hair for you?” He asked, catching you off guard.

It was one of the first times he had asked what you wanted, offering himself instead of forcing it upon you. You nodded, not wanting to lift your sore arms to scrub your scalp.

Bucky carefully washed the grime from your hair, careful not to get any water in your eyes. His strong hands massaged your head as he ran the detachable faucet over it, getting all the soap and conditioner out.

His movements paused at your brief sigh, though he relaxed when he saw it was because his touch felt good, and was entirely wanted by you.

“I’ve got it,” you whispered, taking the loofah and cleaning your skin while he leaned on the counter and waited.

“Once you’re down again, I’ll make you some toast. Do you think you can keep it down?” He questioned as you sat on a stool in front of the mirrors while he toweled your hair.

Your affirming hum was enough for him, and he leaned in to press a kiss to your bare shoulder, so tender you almost forgot about the reality of your relationship.

“I’ll go start it, leave you to dress. Steve is working in my office if you need anything from him. I’ll be in the kitchen,” Bucky squeezed your waist before disappearing, letting you get dressed by yourself.

You found warm pajamas and socks, still bitterly cold despite Bucky’s attempts to keep the house warm in the winter. He watched as you entered the kitchen, pressing the button to turn on the kettle for some tea.

“I’ll get make it for you, go rest,” Bucky’s tone was gentle, though an edge of sternness hung in his voice so you didn’t argue.

You kissed the Star on his arm, sending a painful twinge through Bucky’s heart. He watched you slip around the bar into the open living room, putting on one of your soothing movies to doze in and out to.

With your sickness, he’d gotten less strict about you using the television, unworried about you being upset when you put on something quiet that ended up putting you to sleep a couple times a day. Young magicians casted spells on the television, bad CGI of the early 2000s adding to your coziness, and before your tea and toast was finished, you were barely awake.

“Try to wake up and eat for me, bunny,” Bucky helped you sit up on the couch, smiling at your sleepy yawn.

“I feel a little better after my bath and being hydrated,” you confessed as you sipped the tea and nibbled on the toast.

Bucky relaxed, tying your hair up and playing with the hem of your pajamas. His warm hand slipped under your shirt, rubbing your back tenderly. He looked up when Steve entered the room, leaning in the doorway, watching the two of you.

“You’re starting to look a little better,” he broke the silence, walking over and feeling your still-warm forehead.

“All I want is to sleep,” you confessed, your eyelids heavy.

“Drink the rest of the tea first. You need to stay hydrated. Daddy’s taking good care of you,” Steve hummed, exchanging a look with Bucky.

You forced the last couple swallows of lukewarm tea down, before dragging yourself to your feet.

“Your bed?” You mumbled, and Bucky frowned.

“I’ve got to work late tonight, I don’t want to wake you coming back to bed. Sleep in your own bed and get a good nights sleep,” he held your face, pressing a kiss to the bridge of your nose.

You were too tired to protest, satisfied when he handed you the stuffed rabbit that you curled up with when you weren’t snuggled into his warm body. You’d gotten used to sleeping next to him, safe from any unknown threats that lurked in the dark. The sound of the wind frightened you, your body remembering what it felt like to nearly freeze to death, anxiety only satiated when you were curled up against the space heater of a man.

“Steve is staying?” You questioned, uneasy that Bucky would be working, letting Steve unsupervised in the house with you.

“Yes, he’s here if you get to feeling icky again.”

Your eyes locked on the blonde that towered over you, his broad body nearly as thick as Bucky’s. After a moment of reading your expression, Bucky understood that anxiety was woven in your features. You didn’t trust Steve yet, afraid of everyone who wasn’t your savior.

“I can work from my laptop in your room until you fall asleep,” Bucky offered a compromise, knowing he couldn’t rush you into being comfortable with Steve.

You nodded, relaxing as he settled down in the rocking chair at the foot of your bed, standing guard while you slept off some of your sickness.

“People are looking for her. They’re playing the missing persons ads on the news,” Steve spoke over a cup of coffee, alone with Bucky in the kitchen long after you’d gone to bed.

“Even still? It’s been months. They usually give up after seventy-two hours,” Bucky sighed, shaking his head.

“That’s what you get for snatching a Stark.”

“She’s better off with me. She was mistreated, and the Starks have a world of enemies. Here she is safe and loved,” Bucky glared until Steve soothed him.

“I know. She’s perfect, she’s lovely, I’m just saying, they may come looking here eventually. How long are you going to hide her in this house? At some point, you’ll have to assimilate back into real life.”

“She’s still not completely attached, but it’s getting better.”

Bucky stood off the counter he was leaning on when you walked in, offering an arm. You sank into his side, his vibranium prosthetic wrapping around your waist as he smeared a kiss over your forehead.

“The weather is nice today. I think some fresh air would do you some good,” Steve broke the silence, and you froze against Bucky.

“It’s too cold,” you mumbled, shaking your head.

“Darling,” Bucky’s voice was surprisingly soft, and he reached over and grabbed a blanket for you.

Steve handed you a hoodie, pulling it over your head and smiling when the sleeves fell over your hands. Bucky lifted you effortlessly, carrying you outside to the front porch, where a white swing hung overlooking the garden. The last bits of snow had melted off the ground, promising spring soon, but the air was still crisp.

You shivered as you wrapped the blanket around yourself, settling onto the swing and inhaling the clean air. The sun was warm on your face, bringing life back into it that made Bucky breathe easy again.

“I love you,” Bucky’s eyes locked with yours, and you slowly leaned in and kissed him.

“I’m going to keep you safe,” he promised.

“I know.”

#strawberry!au #stockholm!reader #strawberry kisses #marvel #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #dark!bucky x reader #dark!bucky smut #Bucky barnes x reader

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