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pbnbucks · 3 months

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can you write something about meeting Caitlin because ur family are family friends and you two develop a relationship?

Caitlin x Reader!

What Happens In Bora Bora Stays In Bora Bora

word count : 1574

warnings : cussing, friends to enemy’s to lovers, somewhat leads to smut, jealousy

summary : your dad and caitlin’s dad worked together and made lots of money so when they had a scheduled buisness trip and decided to bring the whole family down you and caitlin where put to room together.

i made this at 6am so if it sucks my apologies!

your sitting in your cabana in Bora Bora waiting to be told the rooms suituation only to be hit with total disappointed “I just got off the phone with Brent and we decided you and caitlin will be staying in a cabana together while we are in Bora Bora” your family was close with the clark family because for generations they worked together in the family industry. you where close with Brent and Anne, along with their sons except their daughter caitlin. she often picked arguments with you and she didn’t bother hiding her hatred for you. nobody knew exactly why she hated you, your guy’s parents always thought it was because you where the same age (16) and similar in many ways and equally stubborn. although caitlin wasn’t always like this, when you first met when you where 4 and she was a sweet heart up until you guys where 14, thats when it all changed and compliments changed to snarky comments. something in her changed the way she viewed you she went from idolizing you and protecting you to being disgusting by you and filled with hatred towards you. but by the end of the trip it would all change because by the end of 3 weeks shared in a cabana in bora bora together something was bound to happen.

“do i seriously have to share a room with her i mean she hates me and i don’t want to deal with her the entire time” you say trying to convince your dad to make any change in the vacation arrangements. “actually it was her idea she wanted to share a room with you, wouldn’t let anybody else get the spot” great. her goal was to make the vacation terrible for me. “please dad im begging you its a trap her entire goal is to ruin my vacation” he just rolled his eyes at you “they will be here any minute so better hurry up and choose your side of the room.” you’ve got to be fucking kidding me. as soon as he walks out you hear her voice making small talk with your father, she has always kisses up to the adults and the second they turned a blind eye she completely changed. she of course walks in with a attitude already and waits for you to tell her the room arrangement “so i picked the left side of the room so that leaves you the right and i’ll probably go explore in about 30 minutes once im unpacked.” she walks past you making sure the shove against you, not hard but hard enough for you to notice. “look if you just forced yourself into being my roommate just to make my life hell ill gladly go find somebody to room with instead” hopefully trying to get her to quit whatever act she had going on but instead she just laughs at you “your not scary so just sit down princess, and i think i will join you on your little scavenger hunt” shes unbelievable.

TIME SKIP.

its now been 3 days that where full of hiding from caitlin making sure to be out by the time she was awake and come back when she was asleep. shes caught up to what you where doing but to entitled with her ego to question it so instead she drops subtle hints to inform you that she knows what your doing and to cut it out. but you genuinely have no want to argue with her. a good this is you met this girl Maddie on you trip, you brought her by your cabana once but it was extremely awkward with caitlin there, all of a sudden she became extremely possessive with you and even putting her arm around you saying that you where her best friend. you thought that maybe she just didn’t have friends back home and it would make sense with the way she acted.

you where brushing your hair getting ready to meet up with Maddie but instead caitlin walks in on you in the bathroom, “where are you going?” is she being serious? she treated you like shit for the past 3 days and all of a sudden wants to know where your going. “im going to go swimming with Maddie ill be back around 10.” she immediately shuts down you idea and tells you otherwise “no your not im tired of having to wait and stay up at night cause you want to go out with some girl all day and night.” “dude caitlin what the fuck are you even talking about right now, maybe act like a normal person on vacation and go make some friends clearly your lacking some.” she scoffs at your true, but mean comment. “im not lacking any friends nor do i need any, and you one to talk about friends in supposed to be your best friend and yet your blowing me off to hang out with some random girl” best friend? she wishes. “what are you talking about best friend? we are far from friends because you cant get your head out of your own ass. now if you will get out my way so i can hangout with my friend and enjoy my vacation away from you” you shove out the way not giving her the chance to even disagree with you and walk out the door only to greet maddie’s face as she is already there waiting for you, before she can even greet you, you drag her by the arm and run down the long hallway to the water. “im sorry caitlin was giving me a tough time and she was close to coming out and breaking the door down” she laughs thinking you where joking but only if she knew what you had to put up with. “i think she might be in love with you.” you cant believe the words that just came out of her mouth. “whats with everybody and trying to ruin my day.”

ANOTHER TIME SKIP

its now 10pm and you said your goodbyes to your friend as you parted ways only to be greeted with a locked door, you knock on the door begging caitlin to let you in turning the door knob hoping that she will listen but nothing works, your last hope is to say something you know would piss her off and give you a long night but you just deeply wanted to go to bed. “caitlin seriously let me in before i have to room with Maddie.” once you finish your sentence you immediately hear foot steps coming you way to have your door swing open greeting a angry cait, you push past her “seriously you locked me out? why cant you not be a asshole for one day” she rolls her eyes at you “me, im the asshole now? and stop bringing up Maddie i couldn’t give to fucks about your friend.” unbelievable “well clearly you did cause you let me in as soon as i mentioned rooming with her, and you know what i am going to room with her because thankfully she wouldn’t kick me out my own room.” as soon as you said that her face got red and she pressed you up against the door pushing you bodies close together and her forehead resting on yours “your. not. leaving. this. room. got it?” you didn’t know if it was the butterflies in your stomach or her hands gripping at your waste and her mouth and body extremely close to yours but you craved her touch and you wanted more and the only way you know how to get more was by pissing her off. “or what? you cant control me caitlin especially not with the way you act” there was only one thing you wanted to hear from her and it was for her to beg for you. after all these years of constant arguements someone who claims they hate you, ends up needing you so badly. “cmon cait i want to hear you beg for me to stay.” she hesitates hoping you would give up “ you can be serious, im not going to beg.” you just smile at her words “im serious and if you wont beg im rooming with Maddie.” she groans at your words “fine.” theres a long silence for her mentally trying to prepare herself for what shes about to say “please y/n, don’t go room with her.” there was those words you wanted to hear so badly although it wasn’t enough. something in you just clicked “aww is that really what you want baby?” her eyes widen staying their for a second before deciding her next move, no going back now. her lips attack yours and her hand that was on your hip now find your neck making you moan into the kiss, it was the shock you have because this is the first time in a while that she has shown affection for you. she pulls away to gather her breathe but before she pulls you in for more you stop her “y’know i think i have more control over you then you let me know” she gives you her little smirk shes known for “oh yeah? why don’t you show me princess? you up for a challenge?” maybe this was your chance of getting your relationship back, you couldn’t miss your opportunity “of course.”

#caitlin clark #i love caitlin clark #caitlin clark fluff #caitlin clark fanfic #caitlin x reader #caitlin clark smut #fanfic #my fic #wlw post #wlw blog #wlw #wlw ns/fw #wlw smut #lesbian #lgbtq

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yelenasdiary · 2 years

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Hi 👋

I hope you have a good day! 💖

For the Flufftober would you like to write a Story where Reader is ill and Natascha comes home from a mission and takes care of her.

Winter Cold

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: Nat comes home to a different type of mission

Fluff | 0.9K | No Warnings

Translations: dorogoy (sweetheart), голубь (dove)

AC: Nat would be so sweet and soft in this situation omg! I hope you enjoy!!

Flufftober Masterlist

When Natasha came home from her 3 weeklong missions, she didn’t expect to find you with a nose like Rudolph and a ripping cough coming from your chest. “Don’t come close honey, I don’t want to get you sick” you tiredly mumbled as Natasha stood in the doorway of the bedroom, she chuckled lightly, “you can’t get me sick dorogoy” she commented. While in Red Room she was given things that made her less likely to get sick, heal faster and prolong aging. Nat kicked her boots off and threw her travel bag to the side.

“Let me feel your head” she said as she approached you, the back of her hand softly resting on your forehead for a moment, “Baby you’re burning” she frowned with concern. “It’s the flu, I’ve already seen the doctor” you explained, “I have cold and flu tablets to take every few hours” you added. “Is that all?” she asked, “and rest, plenty of rest” you answered. “I’m going to make you some soup and get some lemon and honey tea for you” Natasha placed a gentle kiss on your burning forehead before wandering to the bathroom to get a cold cloth and placing it on your forehead.

“Thank you Natty” she smiled softly with closed eyes as the cool cloth brought some relief to your fever. “Get some rest baby, I’ll come back with soup” she replied but you’d already drifted off to sleep before she could finish the sentence.

Natasha was great at many things, but cooking was something she wasn’t the best at. She could do basic foods and often opted for her peanut butter sandwiches to keep her going through the day. You loved to cook and loved cooking for the Nat, making her favourite foods and getting her to try new things was fun for you and interesting for her. But seeing how sick and run down you were, she wanted the soup to be full of everything your body needed and with that, she called Wanda.

“Wands, Y/n is sick with a flu or cold and I want to make her soup, you know, the one you make the twins when they’re sick. Could you help? Please?” she spoke into her phone.

“Natasha Romanoff is calling me for help on cooking? Never did I think that would happen. I’ll be over in 10 minutes. Do you have a large pot for me to use?” Wanda chuckled lightly.

“Yeah, Y/n cooks all the time. I swear if you tell anybody about this, you’ll regret it” she threated friendly. “Oh, shut it Black Widow” Wanda laughed before the two said their goodbyes.

Natasha ravished through the fridge and grabbed any ingredients Wanda might need and placed them in the sink for washing as she waited for Wanda to arrive. Every 20 minutes she peeped her head into the bedroom to check on you, fast asleep as she left you. Wanda arrived with a few things from the store and a steam vaporizer she said that helped the twins whenever they were sick. Nat thanked her and took it up to the bedroom and set it up without waking you.

“So, we’re making soup” Wanda smiled as she turned the stove and grabbed a knife from the drawer. “Don’t tease me for it, I just want to make them feel better” Nat replied as Wanda also handed her a knife, “get cutting” she said.

Wanda showed Natasha how to make a soup and didn’t tease her much longer, the two made enough soup to last a few days and Natasha was confident that she’d be able to make more if needed. She thanked Wanda once more before she left then took a warm bowl of hot soup up to you, just in time as you sat up to blow your nose. “I can’t smell anything but that looks so good” you smiled as Nat placed the bowl on the side table, “it’s hot so just give it a few minutes to cool” she said before placing her hand on your forehead again, “you’re still a bit hot, baby” she frowned.

You noticed the vaporizer near the bed and looked up at Nat, “Wanda was here, wasn’t she?” you smirked, “yeah, I needed help, but I mostly made the soup” she assured you. “Well, I’m proud and I can’t wait to dig in” you pulled her gently by the arm, “can you cuddle? Please?” you pouted. “Of course, голубь” she smiled before walking over to the other side of the bed and getting to the covers. “Eat your soup first” she said before you could get comfort again.

You ate your soup with plenty of hums for compliment before placing the empty bowl on the bedside table once more. “That was the best soup, thank you natty” you turned and cuddled into her has she wrapped her arms around you, “you’re more than welcome my angel, now get some more rest” she kissed the top of your head and traced shapes on your arm as you drifted back to sleep.

The following week after you had recovered from your flu, Natasha woke herself up with a raging cough ripping through her chest. “Oh no! Baby, I told you I would get you sick!” you felt her forehead, she was burning up, “let me make some of that soup, bed rest for you my love” you playfully shook your head and kissed her forehead before wandering down to the kitchen.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #marvel #black widow #fanfiction #flufftober

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bizarrescribblez · 5 months

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Anyways- time to go off about my s/i lore for ever new d.an s.tevens f/os ive aquired in the span of a week 💀💥

Abigail (Frank) - this one i just now planned out thanks to jen BUT me thinks i’m joey’s cousin or friend who comes along to the heist for moral support since i had no beef or business with abigail or his business so i fr was just an outsider with no connection. idk what my made up name would be (ofc maybe ‘Bunny’ or ‘Rabbit’ i don’t know), but obviously me and frank form a kinda weird bond since he’s an asshole but understands i shouldnt of been there to begin with. (I have more but it delves into spoiler territory so ill prob do a seperate post for that!)

Godzilla x Kong (Trapper) - my s/i is alreasy pre established in the monsterverse (been there since godzilla 2014 :3) so i’ve already got that kaiju experience plentyfold! I’m a kaiju researcher mainlu delving into how they function and i love to sketch and observe them.. i work at the monarch base that ilene and trapper work at which is how i meet him >_< !! both of us being big kaiju lovers since he’s kong’s veternarian and i love love to doodle kaijus hehehehe

Night at the Museum (Lancelot) - just like my monsterverse s/i i think i’m also present for the first two movies :) starting off as somebody who just goes to the museum to relax and sketch then becoming a guide myself! A while after the second movie ends i end up getting transferred to the london museum seen in 3 and find myself relaxing the most in the exhibit Lancelot resides.. (yall getting lisa frankenstein vibes from this- 💥) anywayss once larry and the crew arrive and the london museum comes to life SO DOES LANCELOT AND OUR MEETCUTE BEGINS. The visual I have in mind @ me securing the tablet and he has to snatch me up and takes me + the tablet away on his horse… GET ME OUT!!!!!!!

The Guest (David) - ok you can see now i’m in too deep fr anywayss obviously david survives the first movie and i imagine is back on his bs @ pretending to be somebody he isn’t. like i imagine i come home from work to see him on my porch and him explaining he was waiting for me since he heard i knew the petersons and came to break the news that they died since he was a “family friend”. and obviously since i’m not smart i’d have him stay with me since he’d still be limping/have wounds from what happened (he’d claim it’s cuz he tried to fight back who killed them) so i fix him up and have him stay with me.. AND OBSESSION ON HIS END FORMS. ofc im just as obsessed with him but literally he would go after anybody who tried to mess with me and id be like ahahaha ok :))

Anyways…. Thats it im very sorry everypony i know all this is out of nowhere but its been rattling in my brain for a week straight and i had to let it out.. anyways this is me at s.kwisgaar + all my new schmoopies…. My blonde boys from heaven…

#this was . VERY LONG IM SO SORRY 😭💔💔💔#watch nobody see this cuz its late tbh thats okay 💖💖💖#ik this is filled with like characters from random pieces of media but idc cuz IM THRIVIN.#🦇🐰 blood and tears #🧳👛 wave of mutilation #🦎🐰 i was made for lovin’ you #⚔️🐰 holding out for a hero #self ship #self ship community #f/o community #self shipping

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funnygirlthatbelle · 2 years

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I posted 12,475 times in 2022

That's 3,313 more posts than 2021!

449 posts created (4%)

12,026 posts reblogged (96%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@pulchrabelle

@vethbrenatto

@onceuponatimeinerebor

@lunarhobbits

@whiteorangeflower

I tagged 1,406 of my posts in 2022

#critical role - 185 posts

#perfect for queue - 106 posts

#fearne calloway - 20 posts

#ashton greymoore - 19 posts

#dorian storm - 18 posts

#exu 2 - 18 posts

#chetney pock o'pea - 16 posts

#widojest - 15 posts

#laudna - 13 posts

#orym of the air ashari - 13 posts

Longest Tag: 124 characters

#💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

My Top Posts in 2022:

what i headcanon the c3 crew’s formalwear to look like

cuz there’s no way matt mentioned a ball and then isn’t gonna let them attend

imogen: a pale yellow tulle dress, maybe bishop sleeves? maybe a deep v? maybe a slit if she’s feeling it? very classy

laudna: a full-fledged morticia outfit with dramatic sleeves and black and red lace, possibly a dramatic train that people keep tripping on

fcg: just a fun tie

orym: a green or brown suit with a tailcoat, very intricate embroidery, possibly some autumnal colors

ashton: dark and irridescent, possibly a skirt/kilt

chetney: one of those baby blue tuxes from the 70s... you know the ones i’m talking about

fearne: barbie island princess but with lots of jewelry

dorian: panics and thinks “what would opal wear”, ends up in a shimmering lilac jumpsuit that actually looks fantastic

151 notes - Posted January 7, 2022

“your sadness is sort of attractive”- ah, that explains so much

151 notes - Posted April 28, 2022

liam will see a laura bailey character going through it and say “anybody gonna comfort them?” and not wait for a response

199 notes - Posted June 30, 2022

i’ve been seeing a lot of posts recently about how bell’s hells are different from vox machina/the nein/most parties, and there’s been a lot of really interesting insights! but to me, one of the things i find most intriguing and relatable about these characters is how many of them can be viewed through a lens of disability/chronic pain. i’m not used to being able to relate to any characters through this lens, let alone so many, and it’s really exciting. like, just going around the table, there’s so many different flavors of this throughout!

like, you’ve got chetney. he’s old, but also pretty new to the scene. he’s trying to develop control, trying to find others like him- while also having to keep in mind the stigma that surrounds his new condition.

and then there’s laudna, and oh my god, her body doesn’t work in any of the ways a normal body does. she cracks and pops and dislocates, and it’s been going on for so long now that she isn’t even phased by it anymore, even as it horrifies others. sure, it’s inconvenient that she has a 5 strength and things fall off sometimes, but it doesn’t really bother her after all these years.

fcg? i mean, there’s so much there. large parts of the world are inaccessible without help. people don’t see them as a person. he doesn’t really seem himself as a person. trying to disguise aspects of your body (their wheel) so as to look more like everybody else. not being able to participate in certain activities, particularly surrounding food and drink, to the same extent as others. trying to take care of others. having to go to a specialist (milo) when something unusual happens with their body for fear it might be something serious.

i’ve mentioned before that i very much see imogen through an invisible illness/ chronic pain lens- particularly, she reminds me of a friend from school who experienced chronic migraines. the way she navigates the world always uncomfortable and always on high alert for things that could make it worse is extremely familiar, and her joy at being out in the jungle and getting to experience almost no symptoms? good for you, girl, i’m jealous.

and then there’s ashton. like, he’s very visibly disabled after the chaos fairy magic humpty dumpty situation. their entire subclass is based on how they didn’t heal exactly right and the results. and that’s even before we get into the whole “i used to be soft” thing which is like !!!!!! the amount of times i’ve heard a similar sentiment of being just like you before the x happened. it’s so good.

and i dunno, i just think it’s really cool! i don’t necessarily think any of the cast had this sort of allegory in mind, but disabled/characters with a potential disability allegory are kind of a rarity, and i’m really excited to have so many flavors of it this time around!

382 notes - Posted March 20, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

since we’re about to hit episode ten, here’s a few things i love that each cast member is doing

travis

~first off, the balls to do that fakeout

~the fact that he joined them for the intro every time even when he wasn’t going to play? such a tease

~the way he’s created two characters that are clearly joke characters, but imbues them with a lot of empathy

~bertrand’s last night; he brought so much to it that lends to the tragedy

~using his past experiences as fjord to understand how fucking fun teasing dorian would be

~honestly, just the fact that he makes an effort and consistently engages with robbie

robbie

~the aesthetic is just *chef’s kiss* right here

~slipping up and saying “the nine of us” because he counted matt

~he doesn’t use a ton of spells, but when he does, it’s very effective

~not afraid to look bad; this can be really tough with roleplay but he doesn’t seem to care if he looks like an idiot

~setty

~everything going on effects dorian- he’s very active and reactive to what’s going on in the game

marisha

~the entire concept of laudna is a delight

~her choice of voice; the contrast between such a cheery voice and her appearance is perfect

~the conversation about love; it was such a genuine exploration of a nebulous sort of topic

~how marisha commits to the joints cracking and popping; as someone with arthritis, it makes me laugh and wanna take tylenol at the same time

~bringing delilah back- just a delightful choice

~the way marisha seems fine with the fact that most npcs hate/fear her even though that’s obviously inconvenient

sam

~taking the leap into robots

~how he keeps finding new ways to play small characters

~also he/they! hell yeah!

~the decision to play a therapist friend who’s actually a really bad therapist is really intriguing to me, and i can’t wait to see where he takes it

~the foreshadowing he’s already doing for the inevitable “actually i am a deeply tragic character” moment

~pussy

ashley

See the full post

553 notes - Posted January 12, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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siriustreasure · 2 years

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We need a part 2 for corpse husband if you were his daughter 😌🫣

being corpse husband’s daughter would include (part 2):

a/n: {find part 1 here} ty for asking, hope you like these follow up ones :’)! it just occurred to me that some people have followed me for stuff for specific people so if you’d like to be tagged in all fics/headcanons for corpse (or anybody else) just let me know! <3 once again, these assume y/n’s mother isn’t involved because single papa corpse owns my heart :’)

warnings: swearing, references to insomia, chronic illnesses, food, very tiny tangent about squid game (no spoilers/violence, just used like one sentence gi-hun’s ex-wife said as an example for something), possibly (probably) rambling

corpse would 1000000% get a tattoo that relates to you in some way. wait imagine if he got a small tattoo of your favourite stuffed animal/toy as a kid which still holds a special place in your gear as an adult. like do you still drag it everywhere you go? probably not, but are they the only stuffie that still has bed privileges? yes. do you still hug them after a bad day? yes. and corpse has to immortalise that because 1) it’s precious and 2) he’d miss his bub. and if you wanted to he’s totally be down to get matching tattoos.

if you haven’t been blessed with this mental image, allow me: corpse husband aka ultimate e-boy aka mr choke me like you hate me, in a beautiful pink tutu, maybe some fairy wings and a tiara, sat a table way too small for him, surrounded by a dozen stuffies.

he’d probably give you a very basic, general rundown/explanation of chronic illnesses - like y’know when disney tries to teach kids something serious and they use metaphors/fairly simple terms? (i’m imagining reader is like a toddler) he’d do something like that so if he had a flare up or something, you wouldn’t get scared or panicked and if he said he couldn’t play with you one day, you’d be far less likely to throw a tantrum.

midnight feasts, midnight movie marathons, midnight everything if you wake up from a nightmare/just aren’t tired? yes. just yes. he has difficulty sleeping most of the time so it wouldn’t be like your fault - like y’know typically if you woke someone up (they might not say it but) they’d probably be like “i just want to sleep, please :’(”. especially if we’re taking about an energetic lil demon bean, which we are. anyways, what i’m trying to say is, ‘cos corpse struggles with sleeping anyway, it wouldn’t be that big of a deal :).

the fridge would be covered and i mean COVERED with your drawings/paintings/etc. there would probably be a couple that were a joint effort - maybe there’d be a finger painting with both of your prints. or one with your tiny handprint next next to his??? stopppp. this actually isn’t fair.

he’d probably have a lil picture of you or maybe a lil gift from you (like maybe you found a stone you thought was pretty at the park or something and gave it to him 🥺) incorporated in his gaming setup.

imagine the hand pics with the stone. omg proud, grateful papa. you know they’d have the cheesiest captions ever too, because he’d be a dad and there’s a brand to follow. duh. imagine corpse’s dad jokes-

you’d probably have a ‘just in case’ bag prepared in case he had to be hospitalised. you’d have packed it together so anything and everything you thought was important, even a bunch of sticker sheets, was put in. i’d riot if there wasn’t a plushie that’d been sprayed w/ his cologne to help w/ missing him. and it’d be a fuckin’ amogus plushie. bye.

he’d probably move into a bigger place w/ a garden and you best believe he’d go all out and spend way too much money turning the garden into a mini park to compensate for the lack of park trips. private park is better anyway, no need to share :).

y’know when kids find out their parents actually have names that aren’t just “mummy” - ssh i’m british/“daddy”/etc? imagine thinking his name was actually corpse husband for a while, like at least a couple of months for funsies. ok so i know i said you’d be homeschooled and i still stand by that but just imagine this ok; idk about y’all but when i was little, like 7ish maybe, our teachers made us write the envelope for our school reports so just imagine you addressing it to corpse husband and the teacher is like “huh?????” (i feel like it’d be funnier if they had no clue who corpse was). they’d definitely talk about that in the staff room at lunch. and you get really defensive about it so they don’t change it and you take it home and corpse is like a mix of 🤨 and 🥹 “thank you, sweetheart”. wheezes for like an hour straight. low-key starts stressing out about that revealing his identity - wait noOoOoOOO. totally shows rae, karl, tina and sykkuno. posts a picture of it on twitter w/ the address covered obviously.

swearing would be allowed once he considered you ‘old enough’ so like mid-late teens.

some qualities (positive + negative because corpse is human even though he’d still be the perfect papa) i think you could exhibit due to his parenting w/ brief reasons: independence + self sufficiency - any symptom flare ups (as discussed earlier), massive empathy - corpse seems to have a massive empathy as is + unsurprisingly children of individuals w/ chronic illnesses tend to be more empathetic, self awareness - sort of the same thing, i imagine corpse is pretty self aware. i don’t think you’d be the best conversationalist but you also wouldn’t be the worst - socialising mostly with corpse and the amigops due to homeschooling/etc.

if there were to ever be a successful real-life example of the ‘spoilt sweet’ trope, it’d be you.

another image for your head: corpse crouching by your bed, chin on the mattress, (y’know that pose?? i don’t really know how to describe it welp) as he gently shakes you awake. ft. a mandatory boop on the nose, of course.

y’know some parents are like “ew, no, they’ll make a habit out of it” cough cough ga-yeong’s mother in squid game - side note, i’m sorry but that pissed me off so much. she was sleeping, he was going to carry her one time. a habit isn’t going to form because of one time >:(. aNyWaYs corpse couldn’t care less about that, you could totally make a habit out of (mostly) anything. if you feel safer sleeping in his bed, fine. if you want a hug, fine. if you want to be carried, fine.

you’d always be (mostly) in charge of the day’s itinerary like obviously if there was an appointment or corpse had some errands, those wouldn’t be cancelled but for the most part it’d be up to you. even with homeschooling stuff, he’d let you pick what order to do things in etc.

i saw this tiktok about how these parents dealt w/ their kids tantrums and they’d basically made the kid his own little space with some activities (i think, at least partially, based on morals? i don’t remember exactly) and a lot of sensory based items like colourful lights etc and the idea was that when the kid was upset, they could go there to like reflect and calm down instead of just sitting angrily on the stairs, staring at a blank wall. i feel like corpse’s parenting would give off those vibes (like just very wholesome and mindful of the kid) but i don’t think it’d come naturally, he’d literally like see a tiktok and be like “yes”.

i think there was another one that was about letting kids decide to give people hugs too like y’know grandparents/family friends/whatever usually just hug the kid or the kid will be pressured into hugging them even if they don’t want to and it seems like such a small thing but like once you’ve thought about it, it’s like why can’t a kid decide not to hug someone, y’know?

the amigops et al (and others) replace your grandparents.

#corpse x child reader #corpse x you #corpse husband x you #corpse x y/n #corpse husband x y/n #corpse husband x daughter! reader #corpse husband x child! reader #corpse husband x daughter reader #corpse husband x child reader #corpse husband x reader #corpse x reader #corpse husband imagine #corpse husband #corpse imagine #x daughter reader #x daughter! reader #x child reader #x child! reader #platonic fic

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intergalacticaquarium · 2 years

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more terrible no good headcanons for eddie disaster dreamboat munson

I said that if anybody made him too cool I'd have to add more and that's exactly what I'm gonna do babes because I had to scroll for way to long to find him making spagetti-os

(posting again bc it wasn't showing in the tag)

(first post)

-genuinely doesn't know what those stains are. Didn't even know it was stained bc he's had the same fitted sheet on it with one corner tugged off for 8 months and forgot about them since last time

-throws away Tupperware if the stuff in it is too gross

-he's pretty sure that green sour candy counts as a vegetable so he does eat at least 3 a day.

-just. Doesn't ever throw things away. Stupid shit like the backs of band aids and paper straw wrappers and napkins and hooooo boy this has turned into a callout post about myself

-sometimes horseflies fly into his hair and get stuck and he can hear them buzzing around and doesn't necessarily so anything about it right away until it stops

-no room for legs in the front seat of his car that space is reserved for old fast food bags

-buys new underwear instead of doing laundry

-hey why do I keep writing genuinely embarrassing things that I literally do irl. Is this really worth putting myself and the 4 huge bags of laundry I have in my tiny car and all my band aid wrappers on blast. Next I'm gonna write that every surface in eddies house is covered in stacks of hobbies and papers that feel like a goddamn archeological dig every time I clean

-psych he does that too

- ok things that I don't also do so that I don't start having a crisis that makes me a tidier person:

-feeds a family of raccoons that live in an abandoned hunting cabin in the woods

-one time he let one live in his closet for a bit and hoped Wayne wouldn't notice (this may explain some of the stains)

-this boy spills. Everything. He's a hand talker and it doesn't matter if he's holding something.

-the hand talking is also terrifying when in a car he is driving

-never drinks water ever and it stresses ppl out

-every single time he sees somebody he knows in public he will try and sneak up on them to scare them

-wears shoes inside bc he broke glass on the carpet months ago and he doesn't want to vacuum.

-the only place he has to actually sit and do anything I his room is his bed because everything else is covered in stuff

-everything is covered in stuff but every drawer he has is empty

-theres one category of things he owns that is organized absolutely meticulously and idk what it is but he's very proud of it and when he says he's "cleaning his room" it means organizing like band tees alphabetically or sorting minifig painting supplies and everything else stays trashed

-it's a perm and he did it himself in his bathroom 100%

-hair dye stains all over the bathroom from an ill advised look a while back. and maybe a few more times

-doesnt have a compulsive habit to bite his nails he does it bc he can never find the damn fingernail clippers

-notes and doodles. All over his arms

- yknow how when u were in school by the last day you'd have like one pencil and nothing else and u kept a hold of it bc you couldn't find any others?

- eddies been at that point since about half way thru his first senior year. He has one pencil and it is a stub (it is a d.a.r.e. pencil and he does find it funny) with no eraser and it's not sharp and it had a million bite marks on it

-has little stoner burn holes in all his clothes all his sheets his matress his sheets and the seats on his car bc he needs to be more careful and is gonna end up starting a fire someday

-wait that last one was a me thing

-maybe this is how I can embrace my flaws. make eddie do em too. it's cute when he's disgusting

-I no longer have improve myself at all

-puts random food in his pockets for later even though it will get linty. Gonna go ahead and say that I don't do this.

-isn't actually that good at guitar it turns out

-I gotta stop myself now because I know they'll just keep comin but add any you can think of or dm me because every time he gets worse he gets more of my love so like 2 give him a hug reblog 2 spray him with a hose

#eddie munson x reader #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #my writing #eddie munson #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie tag

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ladyfogg · 4 years

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Heal My Wounds - Part 1

Heal My Wounds - Part 1 of 3

Fic Summary: After you meet the infamous Kit Walker, you realize that he cannot possibly be guilty of everything they say he is. Determined to treat him with kindness and compassion, you end up falling hard for the handsome man with gorgeous dark eyes. But you both are playing a dangerous game and you must decide just how far you’re willing to go to save the man you love. Part 2. AHS Masterlist.

Fic Rating: 18+

Fic Song: War by Poets of the Fall

Pairing: Kit Walker/Female Reader

Warnings: Language, Smut, Slow Burn, tw: mental illness, tw: asylum setting, tw: violence

A/N: I ended up finishing this a lot quicker than I thought I was going to. Enjoy! For @tatestripedsweater and @kitwalker02.

You’ve seen many things during your time at Briarcliff. Being a nurse, you deal with truly awful alignments, either self-inflicted or acquired under “mysterious” circumstances. This usually means that a guard roughed the patient up or Dr. Arden can’t be bothered to treat them himself. You learn to expect the worst, not in the patient but in what they are afflicted with. In truth, your heart goes out to every one of them. Regardless of what sent them to Briarcliff, it is always your mission to treat them with the respect and dignity they deserve.

Which is why, when you hear that the infamous Bloody Face, aka Kit Walker, has been transferred to the asylum, you try not to be concerned. You knew all about Bloody Face and what he’s done and when they arrested Kit, you aren’t ashamed to admit that your first thought was, “Good riddance!” However, you force yourself to change your tune once you learn you’ll be treating him at some point. Plenty of dangerous people had come and gone through Briarcliff’s doors. You aren’t going to treat him any differently than you would the other patients.

No matter how dangerous he is.

It isn’t long before you find yourself face-to-face with him. He is there less than a day before he’s brought in to see you, his lip and his nose a bloody mess, the red a stark contrast to his pale skin. His appearance surprises you even though it shouldn’t. You read the papers; you’ve seen his face. Yet, in person, he’s so handsome it takes your breath away and you need a moment to compose yourself.

“What happened?” you ask Kit as the guard forces him to sit on the bed. He is bound with cuffs and chains, an overkill if you ever saw one.

“He got into a scrape with another inmate,” the guard says in a gruff voice. “Bloody Face here got the worst of it.”

“They’re called patients, not inmates,” you correct him with a glare. “And I wasn’t asking you, I was asking Mr. Walker. That is his name, that's what he will be called while he’s under my care.”

The guard, whose name you think is Hardy, looks taken aback by your words. He is a new one who hasn’t had to deal with you yet. While many of the female staff are nuns, you are not. You are there purely for medical purposes, not religious ones. Therefore, you have no reason to force politeness to the guards. After all, why should you? They never show you any. The sooner Hardy learns you will not tolerate his bullshit, the better.

You have been talked to by Sister Jude several times regarding your attitude but since you are appointed by the state, there is nothing more she can do. Eventually, the both of you came to a mutual understanding. In fact, you suspect she admires your non-nonsense attitude as it most often gets results. If there is a patient in your infirmary, you can call the shots. Of course, the male guards don’t like that, but they can get fucked.

When you turn back at Kit, he has a surprised look on his face.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” you ask.

“Just my face,” he answers. “And my hands.”

You glance down and see his bruises and bloody knuckles. Clearly, he defended himself but given the fact that the other patient hasn’t been brought it, you assume Kit got the worst of it. You go about collecting what you need to disinfect his wounds.

To Hardy, you say, “Remove his chains.”

“No can do. Not for this one.”

“His knuckles are bleeding, and I need to examine his hands to make sure nothing is broken or fractured. Remove his chains.”

There is an intense stare-off between you and the guard before he relents and unbinds Kit. Once his restraints are gone, you wave Hardy off. “You may step outside.”

“Now hold on a minute! This man—”

“Has rights. He deserves the same privacy as every other patient. Besides, I won’t have you getting in my way while I patch him up. You can step outside and wait. I’m more than capable of handling myself.”

Hardy snorts, annoyed and done with arguing. “Fine by me. Don’t complain if you get killed.”

“I won’t, considering if that happens, I won’t be able to. Or are you not aware how death works?”

With a sneer, he stalks away, and you heard him mutter, “Stupid bitch.” under his breath.

“Smart bitch actually,” you call after him. “And shut the door on your way out, please.” It slams behind him and you return your attention to your patient.

Kit looks at you with awe. “Forgive me for saying so, doc. But you’re one tough broad.”

You laugh, pulling a chair over so you can sit in front of Kit. “I’m not a doctor, I’m a nurse. And you have to be though, especially in this place. The gentle don’t last long. Now, let’s take a look at those hands.”

Kit extends his hands, and you take them in your own, examining his wounded knuckles. After moving each finger and his wrists, you determine there was nothing broken or fractured so you set about cleaning the scrapes. Kit watches you the entire time. Even though you don’t look up from your work, you can feel his eyes on you.

“I think you’re the only person in this place who’s not afraid of me,” he says after a stretch of silence. “This is the first time I’ve been treated like a person since this whole thing started.”

“Should I be afraid of you, Mr. Walker?” you glance up and are immediately taken in by the soft expression on his face.

“Call me Kit,” he says. “And I never hurt anybody. All the things they say I did are lies. I have no idea what happened to those girls and I have no idea what happened to Alma other than they took her.”

You consider his words for a moment and pull away, letting his hands fall to his lap. The bloody towel you hold is tossed onto your tray of supplies before you sit back and cross your arms. “Alright then, Kit. Tell me why I should believe you.”

Kit doesn’t seem to know what to say at first. You’ve dealt with numerous patients who swear up and down they didn’t do what they were accused of. Most of them had. Because of that, you are pretty damn good at reading people because even the best liar has a tell. An eye twitch, a knee bounce, a lip bite…anything. You trained yourself to look for these things because, in your line of work, it means the difference between life or death.

The man in front of you doesn’t look like he’s hiding anything. More to the point, you don’t feel scared of him. You aren’t made of stone; you feel fear just like everyone else. You are simply better at masking it. However, that violent vibe you’ve learned to sense doesn’t radiate from Kit and as you look into his deep brown eyes, all you see is fear, frustration, anger, and sadness. They all pass one after another on a loop.

“I don’t have a reason,” Kit finally says after a long pause. “If I were in your shoes, I wouldn’t believe me either. But you showed me kindness no one else has and I’m grateful. Really.”

“I think this place wouldn’t be half as bad as those colleagues of mine showed a little kindness too.” You go back to work, cleaning his hands. “This is going to sting a bit.”

Kit flinches as you pour alcohol over his cuts. Carefully, you clean them some more before you are sure they won’t get infected. Once that’s done, you wrap them in bandages.

“There, good as new. Just try to keep those bandages dry for a bit. You can take them off tomorrow to let the cuts breathe. Let me make sure your nose isn't broken.”

Kit remain still as you gently cup his face, turning his head left to right in order to take stock of his injuries. Being so close, you realize how handsome he truly is. That jawline is to die for, and his dark curls looks so soft, you want to run your fingers through them. Once that thought entered your brain, you scold yourself. He is your patient and is in the asylum to see if he is fit to stand trial for murder. Thinking about him in any way other than professional is a dangerous game. And very stupid.

“That bad huh?” Kit asks with a slight smirk.

It isn’t a malicious one by any means. In fact, it’s almost hesitant. Like he is afraid to be so comfortable joking with you. You don’t blame him considering what he has gone through. You offer him a smile in return.

“Just a split lip and it doesn’t look like your nose is broken. It’s not even swollen. There shouldn’t be any permanent damage.”

You grab a fresh towel and dip it in warm water before gingerly cleaning the blood from his face. But before you can get far, Kit reaches up to stop you. Instinctively you freeze, worried that you may have hurt him. Maybe his nose is worse off than you originally thought?

“Did I hurt you?” you ask.

Kit shakes his head. “No, I’m just…” He pauses as if he’s not sure what to say next. “I’m sorry but I just...why aren’t you scared of me?"

“You really want me to be, don’t you?”

“What? No! Of course not. I’m just…” He stops when he sees you holding back a smile. “You’re messing with me.”

You shrug and go back to your work. “A little,” you admit. “But to answer your question, I’m not scared of you because I believe you. I don’t think you killed or even hurt anyone. I just don’t sense that sort of evil in you. As for what you claim to have witnessed, that I don’t know about. But I do know crazy, Kit Walker. And you’re not it.”

It is like the remaining tension leaves his body and Kit slumps against you, a few tears running down his cheeks. Without thinking, you pull him into a tight hug, letting him rest his weary head on your shoulder. The warmth of him is invigorating and you savor the feeling. It’s been a long time since you’ve been touched in any way. Long work hours make your social life non-existent and you carefully keep your distance with your patients.

Except Kit, it seems. You don’t know why your well-constructed walls are crumbling under the weight of one interaction with one man.

“You have no idea how much I needed to hear that,” he says, his voice muffled by your uniform. “No one will listen. No one believes…”

“I’m listening. But first, sit back before you get blood all over me.”

With a weak laugh, Kit pulls away. He wipes the tears with the back of his hand which you’re grateful for because you were about two seconds away from gently brushing them away. Pulling yourself together, you continue to clean his face while he tells you his story. It’s definitely strange. The idea of being abducted and probed was one you’d rather not think about.

But you don’t just listen to his words, you watch his expression, pay attention to the tone of his voice and his body language. Even though you’ve heard some of it through the papers, it’s different hearing it from him directly. Once he’s done, you’re even more certain he didn’t kill anyone. No one who talks about their missing wife that softly and heart felt could possibly be a vicious serial killer.

It’s his eyes that give him away. There’s so much emotion and depth, you can’t help but believe him. You wish you can explain it, but some things are beyond explanation.

“You sure I’m not crazy?” Kit asks when you don’t respond to him right away.

“After that story, you’re absolutely batshit.”

He chuckles when he realizes you aren’t serious. You pull your hand away, finally done getting rid of all the blood, but he stops you with a gentle touch to your wrist. “Thank you for listening. I could tell you weren’t judging when I spoke, and I appreciate it. I appreciate everything you’re doing for me.”

“It’s not my place to judge. Only heal.” You sit back, breaking all contact with him, hoping it’ll clear your spinning head. “There. Now you’re just as handsome as you were before. Do me a favor and at least try not to get majorly hurt again for the rest of the day?”

“He started it.”

“Everyone always starts things here. And given your current situation, it’s best to keep your head down as much as possible.”

“What’s the point? They’ve already made up their minds about me being guilty,” Kit says bitterly as you roll your tray over to the sink. He sees a pack of cigarettes on your desk and nods towards them. “Mind if I have one?”

You wave for him to go ahead as you clean up. “I wish I had words of encouragement for you. I wish I could say it will all work out. But unless they catch the real Bloody Face, your choices are either here or the electric chair.”

Kit pops a cigarette in his mouth and lights the end. “I have to see the state-appointed shrink. My last hope is to convince some head doctor that I’m not crazy.”

Your heart goes out to him. His situation really is a double-edged sword. If he proves he isn’t crazy, then they are sure to send him to trial and his death. If he keeps spouting off about strangers abducting him and his wife, then they will keep him at Briarcliff. Either way, he loses. It isn’t fair.

“Stick to your story,” you tell him. “If it’s really the truth and that’s really what you know happened, then stick to it. I mean, it’ll probably get you confined here for life. But at least you’ll be alive.”

“Yeah, but at what cost?”

You don’t get to respond. The door bursts open and Sister Jude strolls in with Hardy right behind her. You wonder how long he waited outside before running to tattle on you.

“Why is this patient not restrained?” she asks in that stern voice of hers.

“I needed to clean his hands and couldn’t very well do that when they were bound,” you say. “He’s all set now.”

“In the future, I would appreciate it if you would leave the door open. No young woman should be alone with this one,” Sister Jude says, motioning to Kit. “Not until he’s been properly medicated.”

“He deserves just as much privacy as any of us do when being medically treated.”

“Not here. Not under my roof,” Sister Jude counters. “I like you, girl, but don’t push me on this. Kit Walker may have the looks of an angel but he’s far from it.”

“She didn’t do nothing wrong,” Kit says angrily.

Sister Jude motions for Hardy to grab Kit. Anger courses through your veins when you see how he is manhandled. “Hey, be careful! I don’t want to have to treat a dislocated shoulder,” you say.

Kit sends you a grateful smile which Sister Jude unfortunately notices. She steps up to him and in a low voice says, “Quit your leering! You don’t fool me, Kit Walker. You can keep spouting that innocent act all you’d like but I know there’s darkness in your soul.”

Kit’s body tenses and you see him clench his fists in anger. The nun yanks his cigarette out of his mouth and puts it out on your desk.

What a bitch.

As he is led away, Kit dares to look back at you and you see the glimmer of another smile before he is gone. The empty room suddenly seems more so without him there. It’s strange how comfortable you feel around him, especially considering the circumstances. After cleaning up the remnants of his cigarette, you sit back at your desk. But focusing is not in the cards for you. The rest of the day, you find yourself constantly sidetracked by the handsome brown-haired man with the deep brown eyes. So much so that you get angry with yourself.

You are hardly ever swayed by just a pretty face. Then again, there’s more to Kit than that. Although, it certainly helps. The way he stood up for you even when he was in trouble spoke volumes about who he is a person. You don’t think there is a selfish bone in that man’s body.

The next day during meds, you don’t see him in the Day Room with the others. It suddenly occurs to you that after the fight the day before, he probably was thrown in solitary. You hate solitary being used for any of your patients but the thought of Kit in a small dark room, bound and alone makes your heart break in your chest. All you can do is hope he’ll be out of there soon.

At least three days pass before you see him again, mostly because you spend most of that time in the infirmary rather than in the common areas. It’s early morning and you are enjoying a rare moment of silence when the door opens, and Kit is led in. He’s bleeding from a cut on his forehead, which has already begun to bruise and swell.

“What happened?” you demand as you leap to your feet.

The guard, a brute named Dixon who you can’t stand, forces Kit onto one of the beds. “He slipped and fell.”

You doubt it. Your eyes slide over to look at Kit, who gives you a subtle shake of his head. “Oh really?” you ask Dixon, narrowing your eyes in distrust. “This seems like a pretty big bump just to happen from a slip.”

“Just treat him so I can get him back with the others,” Dixon orders.

“He hit his head. I’m going to have to keep him here for a few hours to make sure he doesn’t have a concussion.”

“Fine.” Dixon shoves Kit until he was laying on the bed. When he reaches for the restraints, Kit fights back.

“No! Let me go!” Kit struggles against him.

“Those aren’t necessary,” you declare, crossing the room to try to stop Dixon.

But the guard isn’t having any of it. The next thing you know, he pushes you away, hard enough that you trip over your feet and fall right on your ass.

“You son of a bitch!” Kit exclaims. He leaps up and punches Dixon square in the jaw.

What happens next is a flurry of blows and swears as the men fight each other. Knowing this can only end poorly for Kit, you manage to get back up before prying the two apart. “Enough!” you snap. “No fighting in my infirmary!”

Dixon is practically snarling as he wipes blood from the corner of his mouth. “You don’t scare me, Bloody Face. If I had my way, you’d be in the furnace by now.”

Kit makes a move to go at him, but you stop him with a hand on his chest. “Mr. Walker, lay down so Dixon can bind you. If you don’t, I know the right injection that’ll make you so tired, you’ll wake up next week.”

Kit’s eyebrows knit together as he looks at you with concern. You throw him a subtle wink. Breathing heavily, he sits back on the bed and allows Dixon to restrain him. Even though it pains you to do so, you help to keep up appearances. But you don’t tighten them as much as you should. Kit’s jaw is clenched as he watches Dixon’s movements, as if he’s waiting for him to attack again.

Once Kit is secured, you reach into your pocket. Unbeknownst to the guards, you carry around a sharpened scalpel for your own protection and the second Dixon lets his guard down, you press it to his neck, making him halt his movements.

“Listen here, you sick fuck,” you growl. “If you ever lay a hand on me again, I’ll shove this so far into your neck you’ll have to take your meals through a tube. Are we clear?”

Dixon sneers and takes a step back. “Whatever you say, woman. Call us when this psycho is ready to go back to his cell. And I’d be careful who you threaten. You wouldn’t want to end up like one of your patients, now would you?”

His threats send a chill down your spine, but you keep your hand steady, the scalpel still pointed at him as he backs away. It’s not until he’s out the door that you cross the room so you can lock it behind him.

“Are you alright?” Kit asks the moment it’s clear the two of you are alone.

You cross the room, pocketing the sharp instrument as you go. “I’m fine, Kit. Don’t worry about me.” As quick as you can, you undo his bindings. “Sorry about this. I fucking hate using bindings, but it was the only way to get Dixon to leave. He’s got a nasty streak in him; I’d stay clear if I were you. Are you okay? What happened to your head?”

“That asshole smashed my face into the wall,” he says as he sits up, rubbing his wrists. “He caught me wandering out of the Day Room.”

“Now why would you go and do a stupid thing like that?” you ask, hands on your hips. “Didn’t I tell you to keep your head down?”

“I just needed some peace and quiet. On my own terms and not in a dark dirty cell. Besides, others wander. Why shouldn’t I?”

“Because the others aren’t wanted for murder. They mean to make an example out of you, Kit.”

“Yeah, I noticed.”

You sigh and head to the icebox in the corner of the room. As you put together an icepack for him, you say, “These guards will look for any excuse to get rough. And they especially have it out for you. You have to be careful.”

“I hate this. I hate all of it. I feel like I’m going crazy. My head is so cloudy, and I can barely feel anything.”

“Those are the meds. Meant to keep you docile.” You carry the ice pack over to him along with supplies to fix up his head wound. “And suppress other impulses.”

“It’s inhumane, that’s what it is.” Kit barely makes a face as you clean the cut and dress it. “How am I supposed to defend myself if I don’t even feel like me? I think I’m slipping, doc.”

“I told you, I’m not a doctor.”

“Well, what should I call you then? You never gave me your name.”

You tell him your name and press the icepack to the bump on his head, “Here, hold this. Your nose is bleeding…again.”

Kit does as he’s told. After a moment, he says your name. It’s soft and beautiful coming from his lips and you can barely focus long enough to hear his question. “Can I confess something to you?”

“I’m no priest or nun.” You start to dab at his nose with a damp towel.

“It’s not that kind of confession. I wasn’t just wandering for the sake of wandering. I was trying to come see you.”

You pause, heart pounding in your chest as your eyes flickering up to meet his. “Why?”

“I feel safe here.”

You go back to your work. “I’m glad you do, but I don’t want you to get yourself hurt just to see me.”

“I didn’t know that asshole was gonna beat the shit out of me just for wandering.”

“Say you have cramps.”

Kit raises his eyebrow. “What?”

“If you want to see me…I mean, come to the infirmary, tell a guard or one of my assistants that you have cramps or a stomachache. It’s something most people don’t question since stomach stuff is really common, ‘specially around here. It usually comes with vomiting or diarrhea and no one wants to deal with that.”

Kit smiles. “Good to know.”

You finish cleaning him up and add, “But don’t overuse the excuse. Otherwise, if something is really bothering you, they won’t listen.��

“Understood. Do you really think I have a concussion?”

“No. Your eyes are clear and you’re not slurring your words. I figured it would at least give you a little reprieve from everything out there.”

Kit’s smile widens. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Although, I will have to at least keep your feet bound. That way if the guard comes back, I can quickly bind your hands before they enter. The lock will only temporarily slow them down since they have keys.”

“Hey, if it means spending time here with you instead of out there with everyone else who thinks I’m a vicious murderer, I’ll take it.”

Once you have him settled in the bed, you give him a cigarette before going about your daily routine. It is nice having Kit there. Occasionally, you talk as he smokes, but for the most part, the both of you enjoy each other’s company. He asks you about yourself, minor things, nothing too personal or probing, which you appreciate. You feel like he’s also trying to keep some distance between you, understanding your position and what a friendship with him could mean.

A few hours later, when you hear footsteps coming your way, you quickly bind Kit’s hands.

It takes a second for the door to be unlocked but then it opens and Dixon enters just as you’re pretending to check Kit’s bandages. “Walker here needs to see the shrink,” he says gruffly, crossing the room towards you.

“I was just about to call you.” Your lie is so effortless it even impresses you. “He doesn’t have a concussion. You can take him.”

Dixon is rough as he unbinds Kit and yanks him off the bed. To his credit, Kit doesn’t fight back or resist, understanding the stupid rules he needs to follow if he’s going to get anywhere in this place. Once he’s gone, you start to wrap up for the day, finishing any last minute tasks before getting ready to go home. As you’re straightening up your desk, your eyes catch the medication logbook, and an idea strikes you.

Sitting down, you flip through the pages, taking a look at the medications that are prescribed to each patient. At the bottom of the list is Kit’s name and, with a quick flick of your pencil, you manage to subtly cut his doses in half. It’s not much. You wish you can outright stop giving him the meds but that’s impossible. Hopefully, this way he’ll start to feel like himself.

You expect to be worried or guilty for what you’ve done. But honestly, you don’t. It feels right. Far too many patients have lost themselves in Briarcliff and you’re determined not to let Kit be one of them.

---

Kit’s world is not even recognizable anymore. One day he’s home with his beautiful wife, the next, she’s gone, and the police are accusing him of murder. He sees those damn creatures every time he closes his eyes, hears that loud noise echoing in his ears. If it’s not that he’s hearing, it’s the screams of the other patients.

When he saw you for the first time, heard you snap at the guard for mistreating him, he thought he was still dreaming. You have to be a dream. Nothing that good or sweet can possibly exist in this place. The way you look at him makes him feel seen for the first time in months.

He can’t get you out of his mind. After that initial visit, all he could think about was your warm embrace and the concern in your eyes.

To have someone care enough to worry about him meant everything. Especially during such a dark time. Trying to sneak away to see you had been a stupid idea but one he thought was worth the risk. He needed to know if he would have the same feelings each time, the same security and comfort. Do you really believe him or are you just a great actress?

The second time, you’re just as kind and generous as the first, and Kit knows that he is in trouble. A different kind of trouble than he already is in. This one is emotionally based and has the potential to end very badly.

Kit knew himself well enough to recognize the signs that he is falling for someone. You have only known each other a short while but already he can’t get you out of his mind.

The day following his first appointment with Dr. Thredson, he sees you in the Day Room and has to stop himself from immediately going over. It’s clear you’re busy, making the rounds and checking in on the other patients. Kit watches from a distance, smoking a cigarette as he leans against the back wall. Your kindness extends to everyone you come in contact with. He watches with admiration as you sit patiently with Pepper, checking on the small scrapes and abrasions she has.

You smile and his breath gets caught in his throat. Fuck you’re gorgeous.

Curiously, Kit watches as you slip something into Pepper’s hands before moving on to someone else. It turns out to be a small chocolate, which Pepper immediately devours before going back to her book. Kit smiles.

You catch each other’s eyes across the room just then. It’s a charged moment, like nothing in the world matters but the two of you. He makes a move to walk towards you, unable to help himself anymore. But then meds are called, and the moment is lost. Kit stubs out his cigarette and gets behind Lana as everyone lines up for their medications.

“This is bullshit,” Lana mutters under her breath. “Not all of us need medication. I don’t like that they force it on us. Makes my head all foggy.”

“That’s the point, isn’t it?” Kit asks, echoing your sentiment from the day before. “Keep us under control.”

“I have a point. One I’d like to shove right up their asses.”

Kit snorts at Lana’s blunt phrasing. At first, she had been weary of him but now the two have developed a mutual understanding. Neither one of them belongs there and it’s better to support each other than fight. The line moves and Kit watches you join your assistant to make the medication process go faster.

When it’s his turn, you hand him his cup and briefly, his hands touches yours. It’s like a bolt of electricity shoots through your fingertips and into his, coursing through his veins at such a speed it makes his head spin. On the outside however, he remains calm, bringing the cup up to his lips to knock back his meds. Except, he notices they look slightly different than the days before. His eyes briefly dart to yours and there’s a subtle change in your expression. Your eye closes just enough to seem like a wink without fully being one.

Kit downs the meds with less hesitation than before.

Sadly, he can’t talk to you after that. Once meds are distributed, you go back to the infirmary and he’s left alone once more. Briefly he considers faking a stomachache to see you again, but your warning is still ringing in his ears. The fact that you offered him the excuse was risky on your part. He doesn’t want to get you in trouble by overstaying his welcome in the infirmary. Even though he is curious about the medication change, he lets it go.

It’s not until he’s in his room that night that he realizes he’s feeling clear-headed. Usually, once lights out comes around, the meds have him so loopy he rolls over and goes to sleep. Or at least tries. This time, however, he feels more like himself. Of course, that also means he’s more aware of the dark and the loud screams, but once they subside, he’s left with silence and his own thoughts.

She must have lowered my meds or something. She’s fucking amazing.

Kit smiles, curling onto his side as he allows himself to think about you without worry or fear. Again and again your meetings replay in his mind and when he closes his eyes, he can almost smell the scent of your laundry detergent and perfume. The way your soft hands gently held his made him flex his fingers instinctively. Those lips of yours…he’d given anything to kiss them.

Kit’s eyes fly open when he feels his cock swell. It’s been so long since he’s felt any kind of sexual desire even before being medication. It’s a wonderful change of pace, however now he has a slight problem. Kit feels ashamed of himself for thinking of you sexually. All you’ve done is show him kindness and he’s thinking about doing all sorts of things to you. With a frustrated sigh, he rolls onto his stomach and tries to ignore it.

This turns out to be a bad idea. The pressure of his body against the hard mattress causes wonderful friction and Kit finds himself pressing his hips down for some semblance of relief.

Fuck it, he thinks, shoving his hand in his pants. I need this right now. I need her.

It’s been a long time since he’s done this himself. It takes a second to find the right angle and rhythm. He stays on his stomach, arching his back just enough to give his hand room as he jerks himself off. Burying his face in his pillow, he bites down to stifle his moans as he pictures you in your nurse’s uniform. The way it hugs your frame suddenly assaults his vision. When you had leaned over him to check his head, he had caught just the barest hint of cleavage. Then, he had purposefully closed his eyes to be respectful.

Now, it’s all he focuses on, thinking about how he’d love to run his tongue across your salty flesh while his hands cupped your tits. He’d bury his nose in your skin and inhale your scent before kissing and sucking every bit of you he could reach.

Would you moan his name? He bets you would, and he bets it would sound fucking fantastic.

Kit grips himself tighter, speeding up his movements as he keeps the fantasy going in his mind. Suddenly, the angle is too constricting, and he rolls onto his back, biting his bottom lip as he hand brings him closer to coming.

He pictures it being your hand. Pictures him laying in that hospital bed, you leaning over him and jerking him off as you watch his face. He thinks of you telling him to come for you and as soon as that thought crosses his mind, he explodes, coming all over his own hand as he quietly moans your name.

Sweating and panting, Kit lays there in his bed, heart racing and head spinning. He uses his blanket to clean himself up, tossing it onto the floor before curling into a ball. He expects the shame or guilt to hit him any moment, but he can’t find it in himself to feel either. All he feels is aching in his heart for the real thing.

The next morning, when they open the cells, he remains in bed. Once he hears the guard come closer, Kit begins to moan in agony, clutching his stomach.

Thankfully, Hardy is the one who check on him. Ever since you told him off, he’s been mostly tolerable to Kit. At least to his face.

“What’s wrong?” the guard asks.

“My stomach,” Kit moans. “I think…I think I ate something bad.” When Hardy kicks Kit’s soiled blanket aside, he adds, “Wouldn’t touch that if I were you. I felt real sick last night.”

Hardy wrinkles his nose and gestures for Kit to get up. “Come on. I’m taking you to the nurse.”

Laying on the theatrics, Kit forces himself up, still hunched over with his arms wrapped around his stomach.

You’re sitting at your desk when he enters. The morning light is filtering in through the barred windows and it catches you ever so slightly. Enough to almost make Kit forget he’s supposed to be in great pain. When you see him, your face grows concerned.

“This one is moaning about a stomachache,” Hardy says. “Where do you want him?”

To his dismay, Kit notices you’re not alone today. There’s a patient asleep in one of the other beds. You’re out of your chair in a second, pressing one of those soft hands to his forehead.

“He’s burning up.” Your ability to lie so smoothly makes Kit admire you even more. “Here, let’s get him on this bed right here.”

Hardy and you help Kit onto one of the beds in the corner of the room, one that’s hidden behind a divider. “I’ll keep an eye on him,” you say, tucking Kit in. “It’s probably just food poisoning. I’ve told the cook a million times they need to store the food better.”

“Think he needs to be tied down?” Hardy asks.

“No, of course not. Have you ever dealt with a patient who’s tied down and soiling themselves? My job is hard enough as it is. I won’t be dealing with that today.”

Kit makes retching noises if for no other reason than to see Hardy grow pale and uncomfortable.

“Oh, you better go before he starts up,” you urge, shooing the guard away.

Kit keeps up the act until he hears the door close and you turn to him, giving him a wide smile. “Wow, bravo. Great work, Kit.”

He smiles, sitting up. “Thanks. Maybe I’ll have a shot as an actor when this is all over.”

You chuckle and glance over at your other patient to make sure he’s still sleeping before sitting on the chair by Kit’s bed. “How are you really feeling this morning?”

“Better, actually. Do I have you to thank for that?”

“Well…it did seem overkill to have you on such high doses of medication when you aren’t mentally unstable. I’m sorry I couldn’t take you off them completely.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Kit says, reaching out to lay his hand over yours. “If anything, I’m sorry for you having to take that risk. I don’t want you to get in trouble, or worse, because of me.”

You look down at his hand and he immediately draws it back, worrying he may have crossed a line. There’s something in your expression that puts him on edge. He can see that you’re struggling, which only makes him feel worse. He berates himself for foolishly giving into his desires. Already things are tough, and the future is scarily uncertain. He’s on the hook for murder for fuck’s sake.

Before Kit can continue the self-deprecating spiral, you surprise him by carefully getting out of your seat and sitting next to him on the bed.

“Kit…” you say. “This friendship between us…I don’t know if it can continue.”

Kit’s heart sinks and he looks away from you, his gaze now fixated on the floor. “I don’t blame you,” he says. “It’s not safe being near me in any way. Honestly, it was stupid of me to come here like that. As much as I like spending time with you, I never want to put you in a compromising position. I’ve seen these guards and I know how they treat women. You’re in just as much danger here as I am.”

Your hand takes his, and he snaps his head up to look at you.

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” you say. For the first time since you met a few days ago, he hears the slightest crack in your voice. “I’m worried because, if we continue this friendship, I know that for me, one day, it might not be enough.”

His heart speeds up at your confession. Kit can’t believe his ears. The fact that you are feeling even the slightest bit of the attraction to him that he’s been feeling for you is enough to give him the sliver of hope that’s been severely lacking over the last few weeks.

Kit hesitantly links his fingers with yours, giving you every chance to pull away. You don’t. When he says your name, his throat is dry, and he has to clear it before he can go on. “I have no right liking you as much as I do. I don’t believe in God, but I can’t help but think that you’re my damn guardian angel. Because of you, I’m actually starting to think that maybe there’s a way out of this. Or at the very least, staying here won’t be so bad so long as you’re here.”

Your gaze softens and you look away, trying to hide the tear leaking out of the corner of your eye. With his free hand, Kit reaches up to wipe it away with his thumb. He can’t stop himself from cupping your cheek, needing to feel the warmth and softness against his palm. You shut your eyes, leaning into his touch, a shaky exhale escaping through your parted lips.

Your lips.

Kit’s eyes can’t look anywhere else. They look so inviting. He bets they’re just as soft as the rest of you, maybe even more so. Without even stopping to think what he’s doing, he starts to lean in, so slowly that you don’t seem to notice until you open your eyes to meet his. You pull your head back. Not abruptly or angrily, but enough where he gets the message to stop. Kit sighs with disappointment at the refusal. But a second later, you’re leaning in this time, at the same achingly slow pace he had been before.

Your lips brush and there’s a heated charge that soars between you, making you pause before you even properly get a kiss. Your eyes are wide as they meet his, searching for the same thing he’s looking for in yours: permission, acceptance, desire.

Kit closes the distance.

With one hand still cradling your face, he kisses you deeply, drawing your body as close to his as he dares. He feels you melt under his touch and it urges him to keep going, to keep kissing you, to deepen the kiss so he can savor the intense waves of desire washing over him.

You let him, opening your mouth so that his tongue can glide along yours.

It all becomes too intense for the both of you and you have to break the kiss, panting as your foreheads rest against one another’s.

“This is such a bad idea,” you say, the breathlessness of your voice making Kit’s cock twitch. “We have to be smart and we have to be careful. If we really can’t stay apart, then you have to listen to what I say and follow my instructions. Okay?”

“I can do that,” Kit says. He’d honestly agree to anything you say at that point. “Trust me, baby. I know the stakes.”

“Me too.” You take a deep breath and pull away, breaking all contact with him. It immediately leaves him cold and wanting more. “My assistants will be coming to collect the meds any moment. I need to go prepare.”

You reach out to cup his cheek and Kit holds your wrist, keeping your hand there for another moment so he could savor the contact. The way your eyes soften at him only makes him want to kiss you again. Instead, he settles for a peck on your palm before letting you fully pull away.

As you stand and collect yourself, you take a step towards the divider before you pause and look back at him. “No one can know, Kit. Not if you want to stay under my care. If anyone finds out there’s something between us, they’ll transfer me somewhere else and I won’t be able to protect you.”

The fact that you’re scared for him in this scenario and not yourself makes Kit want to throw you on the bed and ravish you. “I promise, I will find a way to clear my name,” he says. “Then once I’m out of here, I’ll take you away. Far away where this place can’t reach us.”

You smile and reach out to stroke his cheek again. “Easy there, Mr. Walker,” you tease, stroking his bottom lip with your thumb. “Keep talking like that and I may think you’re already falling for me.”

He watches you walk away, only one thought on his mind. Too late for that.

#kit walker #evan peters #ahs asylum #kit walker x reader #kit walker x you

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locker42 · 3 years

Text

Consequences P.2

Warnings: mentions of abusive relationship, injuries.

Word count: 1527

Pairing: Damon Salvatore x Rayan Matthews (also could be reader, but has red-colored hair).

About: Damon Salvatore and Rayan Matthews have been hooking up for a few months now, seeing as he started catching feelings towards her, Damon wants to end the relationship. However, after finding a horrible truth about Rayan, Damon is determined to save her and stick by her side. Among the way, they are a few problems needed to be solved.

Part two is out! Enjoy!

Masterlist

Part one here, part three.

She was never late. And if she was, she would usually text him to let him know or even call because there’s traffic. But it’s already been an hour and Damon hasn’t heard yet from Rayan. He was a little worried but mostly he was just confused. Maybe she just decided to put this to an end and ghosting him was her best option. But she wouldn’t do it, at least not like this. She would at least text him. He waited a little longer and decided to go to the Grill, seeing as it was almost midnight, so he didn’t really have something important to do.

“Isn’t Rayan supposed to come by?” Stefan asked as Damon made his way to the door.

“Yeah, she isn’t coming tonight.” He replied and walked out of the house. He was pretty bummed that she couldn’t come tonight. With all of the Katherine drama he could really use a distraction. He guessed she was with her husband.

From she told him her husband wasn’t exactly the husband of the year. That’s how they met, she has just moved to Mystic Falls. She was sitting on one of the bar stools when he walked in, her long, red-colored hair immediately drew his attention. He walked up to her, she obviously noticed what he was trying to do, and went with it. That ended with both of them in bed.

And that’s it, they continued hooking up and got to know each other better. At some point she figured out he was a vampire, so he told her everything. She didn’t really freak out, but she was a little surprised. The best part was that she didn’t leave him, she was intrigued.

After ordering bourbon, he sat down and sighed. He would probably have to keep himself busy for tonight.

* *

It’s been 3 days. Three whole days since he last heard from Rayan. It was very uncanny, seeing as they talked almost every day. He missed her but was mostly worried about her.

She didn’t answer her phone, and that was the only way he could really contact her. He read his book while he was sitting on his bed, his leg crossed over the other. It’s was nearing midnight and after they found out Katherine wasn’t in the tomb, he wasn’t in the mood to see anybody. He flipped the page as he heard a knock on the front door. He got up and walked downstairs. He saw Stefan and Elena on one of the couches, cuddling.

Couldn’t they open the door?

He opened the door, revealing Rayan. He froze in his place. She was dressed in all black, hugging her sweatshirt to her chest. Her hair was messy, making it look like she was electrocuted. She had a black eye, a busted lip and an ugly bruise on her cheek. He could see a light mark on her neck, as if someone choked her. She looked ill, with her pale face and vulnerability.

She tried to talk but all that came out was her hoarse voice. She cleared her throat and said,

“C-can I stay here for a few days?”

“Of course. Come in.” He said and put his hand on her shoulder, she flinched. He pulled his hand back, feeling guilty. She never flinched, what happened to her?

“What happened, Rayan?” He softly asked, drawing Stefan and Elena’s attention. Stefan got up and walked to Rayan.

“Hey, what happened?” He asked. She didn’t answer and just looked up at him, then turning her gaze to Damon. She didn’t say anything and just turned around for the stairs, nodding him to come after her. He got the signal and walked with her to his room. He closed the door and turned around to see her sitting on his bed, still hugging her arms to her chest and stomach. He slowly walked over to her and sat beside her.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“I don’t know.” She said, still looking down. He reached for her hand, taking it in his and looked at her. Her hand looked so small in his, he noticed a few cuts on the back of her hand. She looked so different — so vulnerable. She didn’t look like the regular confident Rayan. She looked weak, broken.

“You can trust me, and even if you don’t want to tell me you can still stay.”

She finally looked at him and he saw tears in her eyes. He lifted his hand and cupped her cheek, running his thumb over her cheekbone. One tear dropped.

“I can’t keep living there.” She whispered, biting her lip to keep herself from crying.

“Where?”

“There, with him. He did this, you know?” Her voice broke.

“You mean your husband?” He asked, not believing someone could such a cruel thing to her.

“Yes. He thinks I’m cheating on him. Well, I am but..” She trailed off and sniffed.

“That doesn’t justify hitting you, Rayan.” He softly rubbed his hand on her shoulder. “Where are you injured?”

“My face, obviously. And my stomach too.”

“Can I?” He asked, motioning to her shirt. She nodded and he lifted it up, revealing four purple bruises on her stomach. He clenched his jaw, feeling his anger rising.

What monster could possibly do this?

He wanted to kill the person who caused so much pain to Rayan. He wanted him to hurt just as much as she hurt. She didn’t deserve this. She was kind, sassy, smart and beautiful, she did not deserve any harm that comes to her. A soft hand on his cheek made him tear his eyes from her stomach. He looked up to see her brown eyes, so sympathetic, looking at him. He knew she knew what he was thinking.

“It’s not worth it. I’m fine, Damon.” She weakly smiled.

“Fine? Have you looked in the mirror? Rayan, your whole face is bruised.” He said.

“That’s a creative way to say I look bad.” She said sarcastically. He couldn’t help but chuckle at her sass. Somehow, even when she was at this state, she managed to stay herself.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed, you can clean up after you rest a little.”

She nodded and lay down, taking his hand.

“Thank you, Damon.”

“Of course.” He smiled and touched her knee, allowing his hand to go to her thigh. He felt the fabric move although she had tights on. He wondered when did she last eat.

“When was the last time you ate something?” He asked her as he continued touching her thigh, trying to calm her by his touch.

“Um...I think two days ago.” She replied, looking down. He put his finger beneath her chin and rises up her head, making her look at him.

“I’ll go make you something, I’ll be back soon.” He said and got up.

“Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

He walked downstairs while thinking of what he was going to do. Rayan needed a place to stay, and obviously she would stay here. However, her husband will be looking for her. Although he didn’t get the full picture of what exactly happened, Damon guessed she practically ran from him.

“Is Rayan okay?” Stefan asked as Damon walked in the kitchen. He pulled out some eggs and turned on the gas.

“I hope. Apparently her husband is abusive and has gone out of control the past week.” He said with a sigh, still not really believing that someone would actually do something like that to her.

“That’s horrible. And to Rayan? I mean, she isn’t even annoying, she’s sweet.”

“Tell me about it.” He flipped the omelet. “Anyway, she is going to stay here for a while until we figure things out.”

“Of course.”

Damon finished making her the meal and walked back upstairs, taking the plate and glass with him. As he reached his room, he saw Rayan on his bed, asleep. He felt bad for waking her up but she needed to eat something. He put down the plate and glass on the bedside and gently shook her shoulder.

“Rayan, wake up.”

She groaned and flipped onto her back, opening her eyes. Her eyes were a little red and puffy and she looked drained.

“You didn’t have to.” She said as she looked over to the omelet and salad on the plate.

“I know, but I wanted to.”

She ate in silence, but very fast. It was clear she didn’t eat for a long time just by judging how fast she ate. She finished eating and lay back down.

“Are you in pain?” He asked after hearing her groan.

“Yeah, just my stomach.”

“Do you want a pain killer or something?”

“No, I’ll be fine.” She said and turned to her side. “Though I would like it if you stayed here with me.”

“I will.”

He climbed in the bed next to her, wrapping his arms around her as carefully as he could. He hugged her close to his body as he began to drift off. He just wished she would be fine, happy and safe.

#damon imagine #damon salvatore imagine #damon x reader #damon salvatore #the vampire diares imagine #the vampire diaries #tvd imagine #tvd universe #tvd damon #my writing #imagines #fanfic #tvd fanfiction #stefan salvatore #damon salvatore smut

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plainlo-inthemorning · 3 years

Text

Shine a Light, part 6

A Loki series/Lokane fic. Rating T.

Previously: Part 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5

He is already spinning around and bracing himself as his boots touch the concrete, half expecting to see the beast come tumbling towards him.

But the air is mercifully still where the door has snapped shut.

The evening sky above him is heavy with clouds, and a light mist of cool rain touches his face.

Cool.

He looks down at his hands. They are still shaking from the adrenaline, but no longer blue. Nor do his clothes feel rough against his skin.

Did he consciously change back to his Asgardian form as he went through the door? He is not sure. Whatever the shape or shade, his body feels oddly disconnected from his brain and Loki idly wonders if using the tempad so much within a short time span might be affecting him on a cellular level.

Then again, if that was the case would the Minute Men and analysts at the TVA not have been suffering from chronic time travel fatigue?

Who knows, perhaps they did. A number of them certainly looked worn out.

Tempad “jetlag” (an apt mortal word) or not, unwillingly running into variants upon variants of old enemies on this treacherous timeline coupled with the incessant longing for her has caused Loki’s grip on reality to slip ever more from one destination to the next.

What reality? a mocking voice in his head whispers, sounding maddingly similar to the little devil clock.

You have no idea where you are, who you are or where you’re going. You’re a man out of time, for all time, always.

He straightens and draws in a few deep breaths, surveying his new surroundings: A narrow brick terrasse. At the back wall, a glass sliding door reveals a room covered in darkness, but as nothing moves inside (his night vision remains far superior to that of mortals), Loki turns instead to take in the view of … London.

There is a taste of early spring in the air, and before him as far as the eye can see, the rooftops and spires of the city stretch out into the distance.

Millions of little lights flicker in the dark and the fumes of traffic and city grime mix with whiffs of different cuisines drifting out of air vents.

He has been here once or twice before, though not in decades, and there are whole clusters of towering structures of glass and steel that he does not recall from on his previous visit.

The house by the ocean in 2016, Budapest in 2015, New York in 2014 and now London in what he assumes must be 2013. As methodical as the backwards count has proven to be, as confusing are the destinations and varying seasons.

Only they cannot possibly be random.

Free will is an illusion.

The eerie feeling that even this, his ill-thought-out ‘quest’, is being guided by an invisible hand in charge of his destiny is so dispiriting it’s comical. He can’t quite decide whether to feel perversely honored that some higher being – a version of He Who Remains? – would take interest in toying with him, or furious that he has been singled out for this preposterous punishment of drifting through another Loki variant’s timeline.

It is no use dwelling on either emotion. He has no one to measure his pride against, no one’s expectations to live up to expect for his own, and, frankly, by now that bar is scraping the floor. There is no telling where the female variant of him went and Loki has no means of contacting the TVA or the analyst-interrogator even if he wanted to (he really does not anymore).

Loki unclenches his fists.

Seeing as each destination may have been an intentional set-up for whatever bizarre reason, the question is which character from his past he will encounter in this place. He vows to himself that no matter who he bumps into, he will attempt to reactivate that silver tongue of his and gather actual, useful information.

No more chaotic exits.

Provided no one tries to kill him on sight or squash him through a wall.

The terrace is furnished only with an old sun chair and a few plants, but the room beyond the glass door appears very lived in, with books stacked on the floor and several shelves, a large couch, a couple of armchairs, and what looks to be an adjacent kitchen area with a dining table.

Amazing how most mortals spend their years in such small, crowded dwellings.

Using only his magic, he slides open the door. It makes a low swooshing sound. Quiet as a cat, he steps over the threshold.

It hits him immediately, like walking into a wall: The scent of lavender.

And Thor.

The apartment is quiet, but they were here and recently.

He has been delivered right to them.

Loki is once again frozen in place.

His initial plan when knocking out that man in the canteen at the TVA and stealing his tempad was to find Thor and Jane at the scene of his own moral redemption (well…) on Svartalfheim. Where he supposedly saves their lives. Find them and use the momentum of their unfiltered gratitude to deliver the news that, most regrettably, the universe is likely coming to an end if they do not devise a plan together to prevent a multiversal war – preferably enlisting the help of Thor’s colleagues, too, and in the best of scenarios, Asgard.

Seek out Thor before saving Jane’s life, and Loki would have to first win his brother’s trust in the aftermath of the attack on New York. Find Thor after Svartalfheim, and there would be the small matter of explaining how the variant faked his own death and, after having thus broken Thor’s heart again, took the throne of the Realm Eternal.

Not an ideal conversation starter, even for them.

From the reel, he knows that there were other moments, much later, when he and Thor would become friendly again. After Ragnarok, before his end.

But Loki also knows that this need to get to Svartalfheim has as much to do with her as it has with Thor. Perhaps even more so.

Something important transpires between himself and the brown-eyed scientist on that brutal, barren planet and if it is the last thing he does, Loki will find out what it means.

It does not make any more sense now than it did when he sat in the kill me kind of room, transfixed by her face, but if he had had any initial doubts as to whether he was simply imagining the magnetic pull of her, those had been effectively shattered to atoms when she threw her arms around his neck outside the white house.

“Where did you go, handsome?”

Nothing on this timeline seems to be playing out as it should. Which of course also means that the events on Svartalfheim may never have occurred at all.

On this timeline, a variant has more or less befriended the Avengers in the years after New York when, according to the proper Loki fate, he should have been on Asgard. And, in a few years from now, the variant will somehow be with Jane.

Jane, who has stayed in this very apartment. With Thor.

Briefly, Loki is back to wondering if Thor dies and how, but then he remembers what Bruce said about their “family soap opera” and Loki’s “victory”.

Could it be that he and Thor actually fought over Jane?

As much as he wishes it otherwise, even Loki finds it hard to believe that his variant would have beat the God of Thunder in a fight. The might of Mjølner is formidable. And though his brother has not quite discovered it himself yet, Loki has always suspected that Thor has his own kind of magic.

Then there is Jane: Without having ever conversed with her, Loki would be surprised if Jane would appreciate being treated as a prize to be won.

He is getting a headache. A rare thing for a god, but there is no putting the puzzle together with so many pieces missing from the board. Since he has no hope of using the tempad to transport him off Midgard, maybe the best thing to do would be to just wait here and see if Jane and Thor come back. He has been specifically sent here, has he not?

Without really noticing, Loki has moved to the blue, puffy couch. He sits himself down and leans back into the soft cushions, letting out a sigh. When was the last time he slept or ate anything? There is a sense of fresh paranoia as he realizes that he cannot remember doing either at the TVA, expect for when he fell asleep during research.

“Time works differently at the TVA. You’ll see”.

He stretches his legs out in front of him and yawns. On the wall opposite from the couch is a paper calendar: 2013.

He takes in the rest of the apartment but does not magic any of the lights on. There is the open kitchen, a tiny hallway with a coat rack and a few pairs of shoes, and two more doors to the left of where he is sitting.

Getting up suddenly feels immensely tasking, but Loki nevertheless hauls himself to his feet and goes to inspect the other rooms. First, there is the washroom. The scent of lavender is stronger in there, even more inviting, and spotting a stack of fresh towels on a shelf, he considers taking a shower. It is not as if he cannot easily use magic to uphold appearances (wait, were there showers at the TVA?), but that is no substitute for the soothing feel of warm water running down his body, relaxing his tired muscles.

Yes, he will shower. And cast a spell on the apartment, so he will be alerted if anybody attempts to enter.

He takes a small comfort in his powers being restored.

Loki reckons the other door leads to the sleeping chambers but just to be sure, he magics it open with a flick of his wrist.

A window with closed blinds. A wooden bookcase to one side, volumes and magazines piled high. An old, white wardrobe with brass grips. A pile of clothes strewn haphazardly on the thick yellow rug on the floor near a large, unmade bed.

Unmade – and not empty.

Loki stands perfectly still, one hand still raised.

Why did he not sense that someone was here?!

Seeing as Clint (Bird-Eye?) managed to surprise him in Budapest, perhaps Loki’s “wolf’s ears” really are failing him.

Even so, his nose is working just fine. Unless …

Then he knows. Of course.

His tongue tastes bile.

Inching closer, he sees the black hair spilling over the madras. His own lean, sculpted body whose long limbs and handsome Asgardian features Loki has never felt less appreciation for than right this very moment.

The variant is deep asleep. And half-naked under the sheets.

Something twists in his stomach at the scene. Something small and pathetic and evil that wants out. A foul, winged creature batting against his ribcage with sharp claws.

He takes another step forward.

How has the variant not been alerted to his presence yet? He seemed strong – very strong – in 2016.

Loki studies his twin’s face. His own exact face. Same high cheek bones, same long, dark lashes against a pale complexion. Only this close, the man’s skin has a faint ashen sheen to it. A few tiny beads of sweat glisten on his temples and, yes, Loki hears it now, his breathing is slightly labored.

He is injured. Enough to dull his senses.

It is not the madman from the Void, as Loki had feared after their first encounter. His energy is quite different from any of the other variants, and Loki suspects he may be the closest to a perfect double that he’s encountered yet (and please, let this one be the last. No more variants or Loki will forget which life was his own).

Stepping so close he can lean over the bed, the reason for the variant’s sedated state becomes evident:

Tied around the man’s mid-section, just about visible over the sheets, is the upper edge of a large bandage. Loki sniffs. Yes, he can sense the wound and the ugly tinge of dark magic still surrounding it, like a poisonous signature: This was inflicted by a blade of the dark elves. The variant has come from Svartalfheim after all.

The cut must have been near fatal, but from the smell of it, it is healing well, aided by the variant’s own powers and what can only be human medicine, judging by the clinical odor.

Even so, why was he not taken to the healers on Asgard?

Because he is evading his punishment for the attack on New York, Loki guesses.

Thor and Jane must have brought him to London instead of delivering him back to Odin. Although thanks to Heimdall’s watchful gaze, the All-Father will be aware of what has transpired. In his condition, the chances of the variant being able to use his magic to shield himself from Heimdall are next to none.

Still, he is here. No one has come for him yet.

Loki does not know which is stranger: That the variant is legitimately, badly injured and not currently in the process of dispatching Odin off to some home for the elderly in New York, or that Odin has allowed the variant to be taken to Midgard instead of the dungeons.

Presumably neither the All-Father nor Thor are aware of the variant’s role in Frigga’s death.

Though he tries to shake them off, the images remain crystal clear: The queen mother, killed by one of Malekeith’s monster.

A shiver suddenly runs through the variant’s body on the bed and Loki holds his breath. The man shifts under the sheets but does not wake.

So, dear ‘brother’, your Nexus event was that you nearly died for the people who care for you instead of following up your heroism with deceit, as I would have done.

What sentiment.

The winged creature growls.

Loki could kill him right now.

Kill him and take his place.

It would be easy, so easy to slit his throat. It is not as if he has not committed murder before.

“I don’t enjoy hurting people. I don’t enjoy it …” But this is not ‘people’.

This man is a murderer as well.

The variant has already veered spectacularly off course from his fate, and yet there are no Minute Men next to his bed, holding him accountable for his “crimes against the sacred timeline”, nor will he be apprehended in the following years.

This man got “the Time Keepers’ stamp of approval”, just like the Avengers.

It is so monumentally unfair it is enough to make Loki’s fingers grasp for an invisible dagger. The variant’s existence makes a mockery of the life that was cruelly stolen from Loki by the TVA and for that he loathes him with every fiber of his identical body.

Why should the variant have any more right to live?

Because he will make her happy.

Loki forces himself to rein in the rage. The man will play a part in Jane’s life.

He stares at his sleeping double.

The variant is worthy.

Or just simply unbearably, ridiculously lucky.

No matter what, he must live, but if Loki stays here much longer, he fears the variant’s chances of making it past 2013 will rapidly decrease by the minute.

Loki cannot stand to look at him, nor will he contemplate the fact that the variant is comfortable enough in the apartment to discard his clothes.

If he does, he will stab him to death. And relish in it.

Loki is about to magic himself away to find somewhere nearby to wait for Thor and Jane’s return, when a noise reaches him from the hall outside the apartment.

Someone is coming towards the front door, keys in hand.

Jane.

He should leave immediately. Disappear before she can turn the key in the door.

But he does not.

Still looking at the sleeping, half-covered form in front of him, something finally snaps instead. The winged creature shrieks in delight.

A quick spell ensures that no sounds from outside the sleeping chamber can reach the variant, no matter how light his sleep becomes.

Another one renders all the light switches in the apartment useless.

Then Loki swiftly picks up the clothes from the floor, looks it over, and changes his own black outfit into what he is holding: A dark green, long-sleeved shirt and a pair of soft, well-known black leather pants that makes him feel both a bit homesick and a lot stronger.

Don’t do this, don’t do this.

A voice, not the clock this time but his own. He ignores it.

He does not know what Jane’s relationship with the variant is of this time or what state of mind she expects to find him in, but she has let him stay here – and right now, she is alone.

Her fingers weaving through his hair while the sun beat down on his back.

His conscience will not allow him to kill the variant, yet Loki cannot resist the temptation to be him.

Again.

But just for a heartbeat or two.

This last part he promises to himself and to her, though it does nothing to bury the shame.

Perhaps he did not change at all during his time at the TVA. Perhaps his true, villainous self just lay dormant, biding his time, while various oppressors walked all over him.

Is a stolen moment with her worth more than his honor? Is it worth jeopardizing his one chance of enlisting Thor’s help?

Yes.

Yes, it is.

This is lowest you have ever sunk.

Shut up.

He steps out of the bedroom and closes the door behind him, but not before catching a glimpse of himself in a mirror on the wall. His hair. The variant’s hair is noticeably longer. He cocks his head to the side once and the difference is levelled out.

In the hall, Jane is fiddling with the keys. When the lock clicks, Loki is sitting on the blue couch again, trying to appear casual while his pulse is racing as fast as when Bruce turned green before him.

And there she is.

Hair windswept, cheeks flushed from the cool evening air, wearing a dark green parka, jeans and boots.

Her eyes find his in the low light and a warm smile spreads on her face. His heart leaps into his throat.

“You’re back”. She does not stop to take off her jacket or attempt to turn on the lights before coming towards him and, unsure of what to say, he stands up. She stops in front of him, apparently a little unsure of the situation herself. She bites her lip.

“So how did it go?”

Her voice sounds at once both concerned and hopeful and her eyes are wide with expectation.

She is searching for some sort of positive affirmation and so Loki smiles down at her and says the only thing that seems fitting:

“It went well”.

Jane exhales loudly and her smile returns. “It did?!”

“Yes”, Loki replies, grinning at her (her smile is too infectious) and hoping she will not ask him to elaborate on whatever the subject is.

“Of course it did! I mean, you’re still here, aren’t you? Oh Loki, I’m so insanely relieved!” Jane laughs and looks like she is about to throw herself into his arms (automatically he reaches for her) when she stops herself mid-motion. “Sorry! I nearly forgot. Again!”

She takes one of his hands in both of hers, and Loki swallows hard as her fingers softly caress his with unmistakable intimacy.

“But seriously, you two didn’t fight, like fight-fight, did you …? I hope Thor didn’t …”. She trails off and looks at him questioningly.

“No. No, we didn’t fight. Don’t worry. We both … behaved”. Loki tries to catch up while keeping his replies as vague as he hopes he can afford.

The variant and Thor have had words, and Jane has worried about the outcome. Could it have been a discussion of whether to return Loki to Asgard? But then why has Thor not come back to the apartment?

In fact, why go anywhere else to talk at all, with the variant being as beat up as he is?

Because he and Thor both expected a row not suited for the indoors.

“Okay, you sit, you’ve moved around enough for one day. I’ll fix us something to eat and you’re going to tell me everything”. Jane gently lets go of his hand, then shoots him a teasing smile. “Unless you’ve emptied the fridge. Again”.

“Um”, is Loki’s inspired contribution to the conversation.

“Uh oh, pasta it is then”, Jane laughs, and goes to shrug off her jacket and boots in the hallway, revealing an open flannel shirt with a white T-shirt underneath.

Was she wearing the same thing that day in the desert town? It looks familiar.

Jane flips a light switch next to the coat rack and makes a “huh”-sound as nothing happens. She tries a lamp next to the dining table with the same result.

“Has the electricity gone again? Was it out when you got back?”

“Ah, yes. It was”.

“The landlord seriously needs to fix this, that’s the third time this week…good old London”. Jane scoffs but does not sound all that bothered.

“Can you work a little magic for us?”

When Loki does not move, Jane walks up to him (now even shorter without her footwear) and lightly places a hand on his arm, nudging him back on the couch. “Sit. And shine a light, please”.

He lets her push him down, and her hand moves up to rest on his shoulder. Now he is the one looking up at her. She is standing between his legs and there it is, the affection in her eyes that almost makes him forget that he is not the man it is meant for.

He wonders for how long he can get away with not saying anything remotely coherent before she suspects something’s amiss.

Obeying her wish, he holds out his palm and a small, orange flame appears, casting a warm glow on both their faces. Motioning with his fingers, he makes the flame float elegantly over the low coffee table in front of the couch where it stills in the air.

“I was thinking more along the lines of just making the electricity come back on, like last time, but okay, that is very pretty too”. Jane looks at the little light with wonder and Loki thinks he sees the stars in her eyes again.

Then her attention is back on him. Her fingers brush against his hair. They linger by the curls at the nape of his neck.

“I don’t know if it’s relief, but it’s almost like you look a bit … different”. Jane’s eyes roam his face, his hair. “Do you even still have a fever?”

Before Loki can answer her hand is touching his forehead.

Jane shakes her head in surprise. “It’s much better than this morning. Maybe it was good for you to get some real air after all. It has been almost three weeks …”

How easily she touches him. How sad that he's not used to being touched anymore.

He has only to lay his hand on her forehead in return and he could use his powers to reveal glimpses of her past (yes, he kept many of his gifts from the female on Lamentis).

More specifically, what has happened between her and the variant.

But not without revealing himself in the process.

Her left hand is still on his shoulder while the other now travels down the side of his cheek. He leans into her touch and closes his eyes, just breathing in the scent of her skin when he feels her bending down and locks of her auburn hair tickle his face.

He opens his eyes and looks right into hers, inches from his.

You have not earned this.

You are deliberately, selfishly, monstrously taking advantage of her.

I am a monster.

And then her mouth is on his and he does not say no.

To hell with his soul.

--------------------------------------------

For a second, she thinks she feels him tense up.

But as soon as her lips melt onto his and he immediately, hungrily reciprocates the kiss, everything is right again.

Crazy, sure, but also oh so right.

Jane literally never wants to stop kissing him.

She actually told him exactly that the other night. Or, accidentally blurted it out as they were coming up for air, since she is falling for him so fast her brain apparently cannot keep up with her mouth.

Immediately she had felt embarrassed, but it did not last longer than it took for him to raise a teasing eyebrow at her and pull her close again. “Why, Doctor Foster”, he had purred in that low voice that he absolutely knows makes her go weak, “by all means, please…(and he’d kissed her) don’t…(another kiss) stop … (kiss) Ever”.

Then he had leaned back a little, still gently cupping her face between his large hands, and flashed her the most gorgeous, happy, wickedly lascivious smile she had seen on him so far.

Not many people radiate smoldering sex appeal while simultaneously suffering from the agonizing pain of a wound inflicted by an alien sword, but of course Loki pulls it off with flying colors.

From there on, there had been no returning to ‘movie night’.

Now, trying not to break the kiss, Jane carefully moves to sit herself down on the couch as well, making sure not to press against him. For two weeks, they have been making out like teenagers whenever they are alone. Somewhat hindered by his injuries, obviously, which prohibits him from moving much – it is both very, very hot and insanely frustrating.

The first time she had kissed him, he had been too stunned to move a muscle anyway.

The second time, he had nearly ripped the wound open again.

Since then, they have tried to take it slow, although on more than one occasion, Loki has been all but begging to throw caution to the wind – “I’ll heal!", “It doesn't hurt!” (said as he looked like he was going to pass out), and, Jane’s favorite, “It might make me heal faster”.

His impatience would be quite funny if it was not because Jane was feeling just as dizzy with want.

She has been going for a lot of runs in Hyde Park lately.

“Do you have a death wish?!”, she had asked him teasingly at one point when he had spontaneously grabbed her hand as she passed him the kitchen and pulled her tight against him, only to groan loudly in pain when her body collided with his bandage.

Then he had looked suddenly very serious and let her go, and she had instantly regretted the comment.

She knows enough about his past not to joke about things like that.

“Oh. Oh, no”.

That was all her mind had been capable of thinking when she and Loki had locked eyes in the palace on Asgard, right after she had slapped him (surprising both herself and everyone around her).

He had looked down at her with his trademark arrogant smirk, except as soon as Thor and Sif had turned away, his gaze had turned infinitely softer, and Jane had felt something monumental start to shift inside of her.

Something that had nothing to do with the Aether coursing through her veins.

Not long after that, on that awful, doomsday-looking planet, he had saved her life. Twice in quick succession. And for a horrifying second, it had looked like he would die right in front of her.

The memory makes her involuntarily shudder a bit and, drawing her legs up on the couch so she can twist to face him more directly, she runs her fingers through his long, silken hair, and nips at his lower lip… and is startled when his head jerks. For real this time.

Jane draws back.

“Are you okay?”. Perhaps things did not go as smoothly with Thor as she had hoped.

It was a big ask after all.

Once more she feels a sharp pang of guilt. It is not just her and Loki’s worlds that have been turned resoundingly upside down in a matter of one turbulent month.

Loki seems lost for words, and the sadness flooding his face shocks her.

He is far from okay.

In fact, he looks close to tears. Were it not because she had just felt his cool forehead, she would have assumed it was the fever flaring up.

Jane feels her stomach tie itself into a knot. They are taking him away from her before they have even had a chance be together.

Or, even worse still, he has regretted everything about their unlikely union.

“Jane, I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry…”

Here it comes, Jane thinks as nausea builds. Erik is about to be proved right about him.

She lets go of him. He is clearly wrestling with himself.

And he does look different. Is this what him dropping the mask looks like?

It is more than just his facial expression, it is his entire posture. Even wounded and half delirious with fever, Loki usually carries himself with no small amount of pride.

His eyes are so lost.

What the hell is going on?

“Just tell me, Loki”. Jane tries to disguise how alarmed she suddenly feels. His touch is the same, and yet it is like a stranger is taking over the man in front of her.

He inhales deeply and runs both his hands through his hair. Entirely without wincing as he lifts his elbows above his chest, she notices.

“Okay”, he begins. “Jane…” (the way he says her name, like he is tasting the word) “…you have every right to hate me for what I’m about to tell you. I truly deserve nothing less.”

She feels the tears welling up.

“I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe you’re doing this.” Her voice breaks and Loki has the audacity to look taken aback.

“Are you being dragged back to Asgard, or are you dumping me? After trying so hard to get into my pants?!”

It comes out way too harshly, and Loki appears genuinely flummoxed.

Also, his face has gone red.

“Oh, Jane, no, he’s not going to… He won’t leave. I mean- ”

“What?” A chill runs down her spine.

“’He’? ‘He’ who? Thor?”

Before he can answer, they both jump a little as her phone suddenly goes off in her bag by the door.

That inane ringtone.

She still has not changed it.

Erik. She promised she’d let him know as soon as …

Jane wants to ignore it, but then her mentor will most likely keep calling and she cannot put it on silent from the couch. Loki probably could though, but she is not about to ask.

“Wait”. She holds up a hand and gets up.

While rummaging in the bag, a single tear runs down her cheek. No. She will keep her composure and listen to what he has to say like the commonsensical grown-up woman that she is.

Was.

She’s only just begun to get to know him properly, so why does it feel like she won’t be able to live without him?

She pulls out the damn phone and presses the button on the side.

The she straightens up again and turns. “Okay, Loki …”

Jane gasps.

The room is dark. And empty.

No, he didn’t!

“Loki!”

No answer.

She stalks over to the couch and frantically looks around. Nothing.

“Loki, don’t you dare!”

The phone vibrates in her hand. Shaking all over, Jane answers the call. “Erik?”. Her voice is very small. “Yes, hi, Jane, it’s me. Listen, has Loki gotten back yet?”

She starts crying. “Erik, he left. He was here when I came home and just now, he disappeared! He didn’t even say goodbye.”

She can hear how desperate she sounds.

“What do you mean ‘disappeared’?” Erik sounds confused.

“He is gone! I turned my back on him for one second and he vanished!” Jane’s voice breaks.

“Look, Jane, I really can’t believe I’m saying this, but maybe you misunderstood him? He came to see me not two hours ago after that thing with Thor and, well, let’s just say he went out of his way to make a case for himself. And you…”

“What? What did he- ”

“Jane?” Darcy’s voice cuts through. She must have taken the phone from Erik. “The lunatic is absolutely batshit crazy about you, okay? Stop blubbering. He’s probably just bored and fucking with you since you’re not actually f- ”

“Okay, that’s enough!” Muffled sounds, as Erik wrestles the phone back.

“Come on over, Jane, okay? We’re all still at the lab. Ian’s made tortillas if you can believe it”.

“But…” Jane wavers. Is Loki really playing a joke on her?

Erik is not taking no for answer: “Jane, don’t indulge these little games of his, okay? Come have dinner with us, and I’ll tell you what he told me before. And if he isn’t back later tonight, it’ll be my pleasure to enlist Thor to beat the crap out of him. It’s long overdue”.

Despite herself, Jane cannot help but smile.

“Okay. I’m coming over”. She exhales. The feeling of unease is subsiding a bit.

“Good girl”, Erik says. “Tell her to bring beer!” Darcy shouts from somewhere in background.

Jane hangs up and puts on her boots again. Loki and Erik had an actual conversation with no casualties?

She grabs her jacket and slams the front door behind her.

He really is infuriating, that prince of hers.

If he turns up later, she will make him pay dearly for scaring her.

No making out for a week.

(Yeah, right.)

To be continued in part 7 ....

This was supposed to have been the final chapter. Only 'someone' needed extra time star gazing. Please forgive me him!

#shine a light #lokane #loki series #lokane ff #lokane fanfic #tva loki #loki x jane #jane foster #loki #loki fanfic #loki ff #plainlo inthemorning #shine a light fic #loki show

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fallin-4-ya · 4 years

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The Follies and Vices of You

cedric diggory x reader- part ii of series

based off the novel and film ‘Pride and Prejudice’ by Jane Austen

summary: Being the beloved sister of the incredibly wealthy Mr. Potter, you felt no need to rush into marriage. But one day, when you come to meet a new acquaintance, the proud Mr. Diggory, your views of love and follies change.

warnings: none! (gif is not mine, credit to owner!)

part i, part ii, part iii, part iv, part v

‘Maybe it’s that I find it hard to forgive the follies and vices of others, or their offenses against me. My good opinion, once lost, is lost forever.’ -Jane Austen

With the arrival of fall, so came the arrival of new companions. Mr. Draco Malfoy, a cousin of your Godfather, came to stay with you and your family at the estate; due to the management of Malfoy Manor, after the passing of his father. These manners having to be settled with Mr. Sirius Black, you had grown quite acquainted to each other over the autumn months.

While with each passing day, came new agreements and new events that had to be attended to; there was just one that you impatiently waited for, the Winter Ball. It was a marvelous party held by the Weasley Family, and was an invitation only event ensuring that only anybody who was anyone could attend. It was rather a charming way of making new friends.

One day, dining with your family and Mr. Malfoy, you received the invitation to the Winter Ball. Unable to hold back excitement, you eagerly stated, ‘Oh, look! Our invitation has finally arrived! Miss Ginerva and I have been at an utmost excitement for this event. Mr. Malfoy, you will come won’t you? There is music and dancing with such a marvelous atmosphere. It really is such a great way to make new friends!’

‘Miss Y/N, nothing would exhilarate me more than attending a wonderful party with wonderful people.’ Mr. Malfoy replied.

‘Splendid! As though I do wish the dreaded Mr. Diggory would not come and spoil the evening-‘

‘Mr. Diggory did you say, Miss Y/N? I haven’t known him to be in this part of the country.’

‘Why yes! He has been a resident at the Weasley Estate since the summer, doing business with Mr. Fred and George. Its unknown when he will be finished. Mr. Malfoy, pardon my asking, do you know of Mr. Diggory?’

‘Yes, my father and his were very closely acquainted. They did much business together when we were children. Mr. Diggory and I were very close friends growing up. He borrowed some money from us, quite some time ago before he inherited his fortune. However, he was unable to pay us back in a timely fashion. We had a falling out quite some time after that.’

You sunk into your seat a bit. Mr. Diggory, a man fed by pride, not abide by the rules of business, you questioned to yourself. Strange, the carelessness of men.

The next day you were expected to attend afternoon tea with Miss Ginny. Taking the pleasure of welcoming yourself into their home you went to the parlor, where tea was normally served. But rather than seeing Miss Ginny, you walked in on a reading Mr. Diggory. He caught your eye and immediately stood awkwardly, ‘Miss Y/N, what a surprise. How are you this day?’ he managed to stammer out.

‘Mr. Diggory, very well. Thank you, may I ask you the same?’

‘Fine, thank you.’ He replied. You both stood not exactly knowing what to say to each other, tensions were rising and words did not come easy.’

‘Er- Mr. Diggory, where may I find Miss Ginerva?’

‘Oh yes. She’s in the dining room. Fine seeing you, Miss Y/N.’

You nodded quietly and left the room, heading for the kitchens. I don’t think I will ever understand the brains of men, you told yourself.

The afternoon went by rather quickly, as you chatted with such a gracious friend; and you could not but help to tell Miss Ginny about the information you found out the previous night.

‘Did you know, Ginny, that Mr. Diggory had relations with my Godfather’s cousin, Mr. Draco Malfoy. A very handsome young fellow. Apparently, Diggory borrowed money from him some time ago and never paid the poor family back. Very questionable if you ask me.’

‘Very questionable indeed.’ Pondered Miss Ginny, ‘Perhaps, you also ought to know as well that Mr. Diggory had a late sister. She was very young when she passed, just shy of fourteen. I heard it was an illness that struck her.’

‘Really!’ you said shocked, ‘A Miss Diggory! How very unfortunate. How sad as well.’

You thanked Miss Ginny for the tea and began to head home. Mr. Diggory was perhaps the strangest character you were to meet.

The ball at Weasley Estate came much faster than anticipated. After dressing in a beautiful silky, white gown and having your hair twisted and plaited into an updo, it was time to go. The general splendor of the ball was much greater than it seemed to be in years prior. The entire ballroom was adorned in gold decorations, and a beautiful orchestra played in the ballroom while numerous couples were dancing in the center. You quickly found your friend Ginny. Between chatting away with her and dancing with the company of Mr. Malfoy and your Godfather, you were having the most wonderful time. While walking through the corridors, arm in arm with Miss Ginny, you were met by the tall, handsome figure of Mr. Diggory.

‘Miss Y/N.’

‘Mr. Diggory.’ You bowed.

‘May I have the next dance?’ he said staright faced.

‘You may.’ You both bowed and you and Ginny scurried to the nearest empty hallway.

‘Did Mr. Diggory just ask me to dance?’ Ginny nodded, ‘And did I say yes?’ Ginny nodded even more excitedly, ‘Well, isn’t that convenient, considering I vowed to detest him for the whole of my life.’ You both broke out into a fit of giggles.

You soon found yourself face to face with Mr. Diggory in the ballroom. The orchestra began playing and the dancing started. ‘Beautiful evening. I must urge you that I’ve never seen a ball be more mesmerizing.’ You observed to start conversation.

‘Indeed. Though I have seen more impressive in my days.’

‘You are quite difficult to please, Mr. Diggory, even more so to make out.’

‘May I ask, Miss Y/N, what you are to mean by that. Or should I expect you to keep your motives most secretive.’ He steadily responded.

‘Nothing of the sort. Just that I find it excruciatingly difficult to make out your character. As while your stature is nothing short of grand, I cannot help but to hear such terrible things about your demeanor.’ You said as you both graciously danced your way across the marble.

‘Perhaps, Miss Y/N, you are to consider that I find it rather difficult to forgive the follies and vices of others.’

‘I fear that I am in no position to mock you for that, Mr. Diggory. But I do ponder over the question as to why so many people think you as proud.’

’’It may do you well to ask yourself why others can be the most quick judge of character without fully knowing what lies beneath their outward appearance. I shall pose another question for you ponder over, said being, why when one has pride, it gives the permission for others to be prejudice towards them?’ After a mere moment of silence between the pair, the dance music came to an end.

‘Oh, and Miss Y/N. Perhaps you are right in saying dancing is a most valuable way to make new friends.’

You turned your cheek and could not help but to feel your lips tug to a smile. Mr. Diggory was a most interesting character indeed.

(end of part twoooo! hope you guys like it. part 3 will be posted shortly! chat with you all soon!)

tag list: @freddieweasleyswife @truly-insatiable

#Harry Potter #cedric diggory #cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory x you #Draco Malfoy #sirus black #ginny weasley #fred weasley #george weasley #Fred and George #pride and predujice #jane austen #harry potter fanfiction

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siren-queen-imagines · 5 years

Text

Four Years Later

Requested by a lovely, lovely anon!

I have been through the wringer with this one. Sooo many ideas came to me for this but I settled on one and it turned out to be therapeutic for me in a way. With that being said, I apologize if you can’t relate to the version of the reader I wrote. I’ve been dealing with stuff so I left some of it in this story. I hope you guys all enjoy!

Prompts Used: 6. “Losing you was the most unbearable pain I’ve ever felt.” 11. “I wasn’t ready to say goodbye - I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready to say goodbye” 14. “I may be an idiot, but I’m your idiot.”

Masterlist

(gif by me)

You and Damien shared a laugh as the two of you collapsed on his bed. You guys had just come back from a long day of work and decided that a night of movies and junk food at his place would be the best way to unwind.

“I don’t know, I think if I start a new series, we’ll never sleep and knowing your taste in anime, I won’t want to miss anything by falling asleep.” You told him when he suggested that you should start ‘Danganronpa’ tonight as he wanted to rewatch it.

“But see, I’ve already seen them so there’s a chance that I’ll remember where we left off without spoiling future episodes for you.” Damien insisted.

“There’s a chance you’ll remember? Oh, you poor, tired fool. How much you wanna bet you’ll fall asleep before I do?”

“Then you’ll remember. Your sleepy memory isn’t all that bad.”

“You would have to be an idiot to trust I’ll remember before I fall asleep.”

Damien smiled at you, turning on his side to face you.

“Then...I may be an idiot, but I’m your idiot.” He gave you a peck on the lips. “Sooooooooo?”

You couldn’t help but smile at the hopeful tone and look in his eyes.

“Okay.”

“Great. I’ll order dinner. Pizza or Sushi?”

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

“Damien, hey. What are you doing here?” You asked, with a surprised smile on your face. You definitely weren’t expecting him to show up.

“This is gonna sound weird but I really need to talk to you.” Damien replied, a sheepish smile on his face.

You moved aside and let him in.

“What’s weird about us talking?”

“Because it’s about us...our relationship.”

Oh. Maybe not as weird as he would think because you were considering talking to him too. You had been broken up for 4 years and even though the two of you had become friends again, the break up was never really spoken of. And Damien needed it to be because he felt there was something you held back on. He had been talking to Shayne about it and even he agreed that everything down to the timing was...off, for lack of a better term.

Damien coming over tonight was Shayne’s idea. It was time to finally get some answers so that Damien can either decide to try to get back together with you or move on for good.

“What about it?” You asked, sitting next to him on your couch.

“Part of me has always wondered if you and I could or should get back together. Like, I still don’t get where everything went wrong. I thought we were happy.” Damien admitted.

“I don’t know if we should do this, Damien.”

“I have to. I need to make a decision about something and I can’t decide if we don’t talk about this.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair, considering this for a long moment. You were looking to talk to him about this too, why were you so reluctant now that it was time.

“Please, Y/N.” Damien continued, taking your hand in his.

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

“Come on, Y/N, pleeeeease?” Damien begged, smile on his face as he held onto your hand.

That stupid smile. How dare he use it against you?

Because it worked and he knew it.

“Okay, fiiine.” You groaned for added effect.

“Yes!! Okay, let’s go!”

Shayne had shaken his head as he and Courtney followed you and an excited Damien to wait in line for a rollercoaster.

Honestly, you were neutral on rollercoasters and that’s only because you tend to have some anxiety about them. Once you went through the first one, you were fine but the previous night was spent at Shayne’s where someone had the brilliant idea to marathon the Final Destination series. And guess where the first death vision in Final Destination 3 took place? A rollercoaster.

You knew the odds of that happening were minimal but it didn’t help you from experiencing flashbacks. It did help though to have Damien reassuring you that it was gonna be okay and distract you while you guys waited.

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

“Okay.” You agreed, taking a deep breath after. “Where do you wanna start?”

Damien took a moment to consider that. He didn’t think you’d agree to talking about it so he hadn’t thought that far ahead.

“When you decided to break up with me...did you plan it or was it a spur of the moment thing?” He asked. “It was just too sudden. It had to have been something else.”

You sighed again, leaning back into the cushions on your couch. Your glance remained on your hands because you couldn’t look at Damien.

“Do you remember our break up?”

“Of course I do.”

“There was something else I meant to tell you but, um...I couldn’t so I chose in the moment to break up with you instead.”

“Why couldn’t you tell me? Did I do something to make you feel that you couldn’t trust me?”

“Of course not. I just...I just couldn’t.”

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

Your stomach was running rampant with butterflies and you felt nauseous and nervous all tied up into one. Damien grabbed a hold of your hand as he drove, kissing the back of it and smiling at you. You smiled back at him before glancing out the window, listening to the music.

You were gonna tell him. You had to tell him. He was your boyfriend, he needed to know.

You had decided to let the two of you enjoy the day together. Damien at least deserved that before you shifted the mood. Before it turned to endless amounts of worrying on his part; before it turned into him deciding to cancel his plans with his friends so he could stay with you; before it turned into him possibly wanting to put his life and dreams on hold until you were good again.

Oh god. You couldn’t do that to him. He didn’t deserve that. He deserves to be happy and there’s a chance he wouldn’t be if he was with you.

“Y/N?” Damien called out to you. “Hey, you okay babe?”

You were brought back to reality as you looked around to see you guys were already parked in front of you place.

“Damien...I think we should break up.” You said suddenly.

You looked over to Damien, who looked like he had just been slapped in the face.

“I’m sorry.” You added before opening the car door.

“Wait, wait, wait. Talk to me.” Damien practically begged when he came back to his senses. “What’s going on? Why?”

“I just--there’s no easy way to say that I fell out of love with you.”

Okay, what the hell? WHY WOULD YOU THINK TO SAY THAT? You could’ve come up with something else but no, you had to practically twist the freaking knife.

“You fell out of love with me.” Damien repeated to himself sadly.

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

“That’s not a straight answer, Y/N.” Damien told you, a hint of irritability in his tone.

“I know, Damien.” You shared his tone. “I’m still having a hard time talking about it.”

“What was so bad that you chose to break up with me instead of tell me? Did you cheat on me?”

“No, no. I never would’ve done that to you.”

“Then what?”

You wiped at tears building in your eyes as you got up and began pacing.

“I found out that I had a rare autoimmune disease. It was gonna take a toll on a lot of things in my life and I broke up with you to keep it from affecting yours.” You finally said.

“What?”

Damien was shocked. Why would you hide this from him? Why would you think that breaking up with him would help anything? You were sick and you thought the best course of action was to break up with him when you needed him the most.

“I was sick, Damien. I still am. I haven’t told anybody.”

“Why not?”

“Because I knew it would get back to you. I knew that if you found out, you would drop everything to take care of me when I needed it. I would’ve held you back.”

“No. That’s not true.”

“Yes it is. I haven’t been in remission for longer than 3 months. I go to the doctor so much and we still haven’t figured out a treatment that will stick. You remember when we started being friends again? When I would cancel plans? That was because my body physically hurt so much, I couldn’t get out of bed or want to move. I get sick easily and am almost always sick. It was why I was so run down all the time during the last few months of our relationship and why I was losing weight without doing anything.”

You stopped pacing and sat back down.

“You would’ve stayed to take care of me, Damien.” You continued, taking hold of his hand. “Your friends would’ve gotten sick of you cancelling on them and you would have probably insisted on taking shorter days at work...you probably would have ended up resenting me after a while.”

“Y/N...” He squeezed your hand, wiping the tears from his eyes with his free one.

“Losing you was the most unbearable pain I’ve ever felt. More than the bad days of my illness have ever been. I honestly believed and still do believe I did the right thing.”

“I--I could’ve never resented you.” Damien told you.

“I didn’t want to give you the chance to. You have worked so hard to get to where you are and where you were when we were together. I didn’t want you to throw it all away for me.”

“You mentioned remission. What exactly do you have?”

“It’s called Churg-Strauss Syndrome. Easiest way to put it is that my immune system is confused because it’s overproducing eosinophils and sending them to my lungs. So this confusion is causing my immune system to attack my lungs.”

“So the remission would be stopping your immune system from overproducing the e--eo--si--”

“Yeah. But it’s rare enough that there’s not enough research for a definitive way to treat it.”

“I wish you would’ve told me, Y/N. We could’ve made it through this. You didn’t have to go through this alone.”

“Just because you didn’t know, doesn’t mean you and Shayne and everyone else weren’t there for me. I wasn’t alone. You guys made sure I didn’t feel that way even if you didn’t realize that.”

Damien had leaned forward, your hand still in his as his forehead rest against yours. The two of you cried as you allowed Damien to take the time to let everything you told him sink in.

“When we broke up I wasn’t ready to say goodbye--I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready to say goodbye. Not to you.” Damien expressed with a sniffle. “I still want you, Y/N. I still want to be with you after all of this. Your illness could never keep me away from you. I love you too damn much.”

Honestly, if you hadn’t let your overthinking get in the way, this is what you would have hoped to hear from Damien when you told him. You let go of his hand and cupped both sides of his face and kissed him.

This...this felt right. Just moments ago you felt breaking up with him was the right thing to do...but now, as you kissed him, you realized it was a mistake. You never even gave him a chance to figure things out and make his own choices about your relationship.

“I love you, Damien.” You whispered when you pulled back from the kiss. “I’m so sorry.”

“I forgive you. You did what you thought was right. Even though it was a bit misguided.” He couldn’t help but smile. He had you back.

It felt good not holding onto this secret anymore. Maybe as you continue to get through this, it’ll be easier with Damien on your side; with your support system being stronger.

#damien haas x reader #damien haas imagine #smosh imagine #damien haas

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thewalkingdead-fan101 · 4 years

Text

In This Hell Daryl Dixon X Reader Part 3/??

Hey guys! Part 3 is finally here! I hope you guys like it. Not a lot happens in this part, its kind of a fill-in. :) Warnings- Blood, Descriptions of injuries, talk of miscarriage? swearing.

Finishing the 7th chapter of my book, I decide to put it down, save something for later. I can’t help but let my mind wander to what Jenner had told me.

What if I carried the baby so far along and it dies in the womb and turns? My baby, clawing it’s way out of me, tearing me apart. What would happen if I died during this pregnancy? Would I still be an incubator for the baby until it dies and rips it’s way out of my decaying body?

I heard a small tap. "Hey, are you ok?" I looked up and saw Glenn smiling at me. I nodded my head. "I’m great, thank you.” "Please, come out and sit with us all." I nodded my head and followed Glenn out. "Hey" Shane said to me, moving over for me to sit next to him. "Hey y'all" I said taking the seat next to him. We all shared greetings.

"What are we doing?" I asked Shane and Andrea. "We are cleaning our guns. YOU are watching." Shane chuckled. Shane looked back at Andrea, explaining how her gun works. "Oh jeez." Dale said We all looked to what he saw. I stood up and walked over. "Oh my god." I sighed. Dale pulled up.

Trucks flipped over. Cars packing both sides of the highway. I saw Daryl driving back toward the RV, and he pulled up. "See a way through?" Dale asked. Daryl nodded his head, and motioned us to follow. We slowly started to follow. "Uhh... Maybe we should just go back. There's an interstate bypass..." Glenn stated. "we can't spare the fuel." Dale answered. We stayed quiet. "Jeez." Glenn said after looking back at the cars. "Can we even get through here?" Glenn asked.

Dale pulled to a halt as smoke raised from the bonnet. He got up and slammed the door open, the rest of us trailing behind. "I said it. Didn't I say it? A thousand times. Dead in the water." Dale exclaimed. "Problem Dale?" Rick asked. "Just a small matter of being stuck in the middle of no where with no hope of..." Dale answered watching daryl rummage through the back of a car. "Okay, that was dumb." He said regarding his earlier comment. "If you can't find a radiator hose here.." Shane started. "There's a whole bunch of stuff we can find." Daryl cut in. "I can siphon more fuel from these cars for a start." T-dog smiled walking forward. "Maybe some water." Carol said "Or food." Finished Glenn "This is a graveyard." Lori spoke. We all looked at her for a second. " I don't know how to feel about this" she sighed. "All right, all right. Here we go. " T-dog started. "Okay y'all, look around. Gather what you can." We all split up. Daryl helped siphon the fuel. Carol and Lori were looking for anything with the kids and Glenn was fixing the RV, Dale on watch above the RV as Rick patrolled the ground. "(Y/n/n)! Come over here!" Lori called out. I walked over. "Did you guys want me to take the stuff to the RV?" I asked "No ill do it with the kids." Carol smiled taking a few cases with her the kids carrying food and water with drinks and torches. They made their way to the RV.

"Look, I never told you something." Lori said. "Tell me if you'd like." "Before Rick came back, Shane and I-" "You snuck around. I know." "Wait what?" "It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out.. You both went in the same direction a little while after one another." I smiled. "Oh.." I looked and saw Andrea go into the RV. "I’ll be back, I'm going to help Dale." "Ok." Carol and the kids returned as I left. I made my way to the RV. "Dale! Can I come up?" "Sure!" He called down. I got up and Rick looked at Dale. "It's all good." Dale confirmed. We both looked to where Shane was at the truck full of water.

I turned around. My stomach dropping, my heart pounding against my ribcage as I realise what’s about to happen. "Dale...Look." He turned and looked at the direction I was facing. I looked at rick, he looked at me, I pointed, making him look through the scope on his gun. "Shit.. There's a horde." I stated. "Get down quietly" Dale instructed. I quickly got down. We laid there in pure silence as the moans passed us. Realisation hit me. "Dale!" I softly whispered. He looked at me. "Andrea is inside." His eyes widened. We waited. We heard the screams of Andrea coming from the bathroom. Dale looked down and broke the netting and gave her the screwdriver. The RV shook along with the trouble happening on the inside. Dale and I watched as Andrea fought off the walker that was attacking. the RV stopped moving as she drove the screwdriver into its skull repeatedly.

After minutes of waiting I sat up as I heard Sophia screaming. I saw her run into the woods, followed by two walkers. I watched helplessly as Rick ran in after her. I looked around the RV before making my way to the ground. My eyes darted around, looking to see if anyone in our group was missing other than the girl.. I watched Shane and Glenn come out from under the water truck, Lori and Carol, huddled together watching the forest line, Dale still on the RV, Andrea inside , Carl with Lori and Carol... But I couldn't see Daryl or T-dog anywhere. I ran to Lori and Carol.

"(Y/n)! My baby! She is alone!" Carol cried. "Carol. Honey... She will be okay. I saw Rick run after her." I said softly. After 5 minutes, I still hadn't seen Daryl, Rick, T-dog or Sophia. Carol and Lori were sitting down. "Screw this...” I whispered. “Carl. No one can know that I'm going out there." I said to him as he nodded. I waited until no one was watching when I ran into the forest. I ran toward the line where creek bed was.. I couldn't see or hear anything. I heard a snap behind me, making me shoot around. I hugged Rick when I realised it was him. "Where's Sophia?" He shook his head. "I told her to go back to the highway." I nodded, we both ran and when we got back to the highway Carol ran to us. "(Y/n/n)! I didn't know where you went!" Lori exclaimed. "Did you find my baby?!" Carol asked. My eyes widened and I looked at rick. "I thought she was here. I told her to come back." Carols eyes began to tear up.

"I'm going back in." I stated. "No, no you're not." Rick answered me. "Im taking, Glenn, Shane and Daryl." "Has Daryl been seen?" I asked hopefully. "He dragged T-Dog to the RV before, he might be there." Lori answered I nodded my head and started to walk to the RV, no Daryl. I was about to turn when I saw him exit the RV. My eyes spotted blood on his arms, my eyes widened. I rushed over to him. "Who's blood is that? We're you.." "I wasn't bit, it's T-dogs blood." He answered. I smiled and kissed his cheek. He put his arms around my waist and hugged me. "Daryl! Come on." Rick called out. I let go and watched him leave... At least his ass is a nice view.. I entered the RV, to see T-dog sitting at the table, his arm covered in blood, with a soaked in red bandage. "what happened to you?" I asked, sitting across from him. "I was hiding from the geeks, and then I sliced my arm open on a lifted up piece of metal from a car." "didn't they smell the blood?" "One did, then daryl killed it, and pushed me over, throwing its dead corpse over mine, then pulling one over himself, we blended Into the many dead ones laying down." I smiled softly. "Smart and the walkers didn't suspect you at all?" "Not one." I nodded, slightly leaning forward. T-dog stood up quickly. "Are you alright?" "Yeah." I said quickly. "Come on." He put his arm around me and led me to one of the beds. "Lay down, I'll get one of the others to keep check on you." "Thanks T-dog." He walked out and I rolled over, now facing a window, softly closing my eyes.

My eyes shot open when I heard a bang. I got up and ran towards the door. "They're moving cars so we can turn the R.V around to leave." "We've found Sophia?" I asked turning around to see T-dog, looking at his soaked bandage. "No." "Right." I walked back to the room, and grabbed the first aid kit, making my way back to where T-dog was. "Give me your arm." "What why?" "Theodore, give me your arm." He gave his arm across to me. "What are you doing?" "Putting a fresh bandage on your arm." He nodded. Once the bandage was off, I looked at the cut. "Well, you didn't miss anything when you did this." He laughed softly. I got some new gauze and a little bit of antiseptic ointment that I had found in one of the abandoned cars. "Where’d you find that?” “In that little silver car on the left side of the RV. I cleared It out, there’s nothing in it. I’m lucky to have seen this.” I placed the gauze on to his arm, before getting the tape and taping it up. "Done, now we need some antibiotics." "They're back." We heard Glenn say.

I got up and put the first aid kit away, then followed T-dog out. We walked to the forest line, where the rest of our group were. "You didn't find her?" Carol asked, almost bawling. "Her trail went cold, we'll pick it up again at first light." "You can't leave my daughter out there on her own, to spend the night alone in the woods." "Out in the dark's no good. We'd just be tripping over ourselves. More people get lost." "But she is 12. She can't be out there on her own…” “You didn't find anything?" "I know this is hard. But I'm asking you not to panic. We know she was out there." "And we tracked her for a while." "We have to make this an organised effort. Daryl knows the woods better than anybody. I've asked him to over see this." "Is that blood?" She started to breathe uneasy. "We took down a walker." "Walker? Oh, my god." "There was no sign it was anywhere near Sophia." "How can you know that?" Andrea asked. There was a brief moment of silence. "We cut the son of a bitch open, made sure." Daryl nodded his head in confirmation.

Carol sat down, Lori next to her and I sat on the opposite side. "Oh, God." She looked up, now not upset but hurt and angry. "How could you just leave her out there to begin with? How could you just leave her?" "Those two walkers were on us. I had to draw them off. It was her best chance." "Sounds like he didn't have a choice, Carol." Shane stepped in. "How was she supposed to find her way back on her own? She's just a child, she's just a child." She said tearing up. Rick fell to his knees and looked at her. "It was my only option. The only choice I could make." "I'm sure nobody doubts that." "My little girl got left in the woods." I hugged Carol and so did Lori. While everyone else stood there. After a second Andrea came and joined the hug. “We will find her Carol.” I softly told her, rubbing circles on her back. “I need a moment alone.” She sniffed walking to the RV.

“I think we should make a start on looking for supplies in these cars, do a perimeter check. Rig up some cans. Before it gets too dark. We have about 20 minutes left until sundown.” Shane sighed arms crossed. “I’ll see if I can get us some squirrel or rabbit. Even keep an eye out for that girl.” Daryl responded, bringing his bow off his back, returning to the forest line. “Carl, you stay close to me. I need eyes on you at all times.” Lori spoke. “I’ll get started on some more cars. See what we can use.” I walked towards a dark green wagon. I had a peek through the grimy tinted windows. Grabbing my knife, I slowly opened the door. It was clear. No geeks. No people. No corpses. Opening the glovebox, papers fell out, revealing a small handgun. I pulled it out, checking that the safety was on and checking the magazine, leaving them seperate before putting them In my bag, turning to check the back I see a small suitcase.

Leaning forward through the middle I grab the suitcase and turn it so I can open it. It was full of clothes, digging through the clothes I found nothing. Checking the middle compartment, I found an energy bar, a pack of gum and pepper spray, once again opening my bag and putting the items in. I got out of the car walking to the trunk, opening it and spotting climbing gear and some rope. I grabbed the rope and gave it to Shane. “This might help with the cans.” “Hey, are you alright? How you holding up?” “I’m fine, I’m holding up good. It’s Carol I’m worried about, and that poor girl.” “She will be fine.” “We don’t know that Shane. I’m praying that we will find her, and I’m praying that she is in good health, that she is safe and okay. But what if she isn’t ?” “Look. We will find this girl and bring her back. Don’t worry.” “I’ll always worry. I feel like I could be out there helping.” “It’s already dark, it’s only going to get darker we will not find her like this. Look, I’m going to go out and look first thing in the morning.” I nodded turning around and leaving.

Noticing everyone huddled up near the RV, I join them all. “I found a few cans of food that we can eat.” Glenn said putting three cans in the middle of the group. “I found an energy bar.” I added it to the pile. “There’s some food in the RV, we can add that to the pile and we can all eat.” Dale commented, going inside and grabbing the food. “This is great for tonight, tomorrow morning we will continue to search for Sophia. We will loot the cars and vehicles tomorrow.” Rick sighed, rubbing his right hand over his face.

We all sat down, starting to eat. Shane was keeping an eye out for any threats. We ate in silence before another presence joined us.

Looking over I see Daryl grab a small can and sit next to me, pulling me into his side while he opened his food. “Couldn’t find the girl. Didn’t bother to look for squirrels or rabbits.” “I was worried about you.” I said softly. “You know ya don’t need to.” He gave my thigh a small squeeze. “You can’t stop me.” “I know you’re a pain in my ass.” He joked. I softly laughed, shoving his arm away before cuddling into his side, his arm resting behind me with his hand resting over my abdomen.

We’re going to be okay. All of us. We will find Sophia and we will find a safe place for us to set up a camp... We will. We have to.

Series Masterlist Next Part

#daryl x you #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixon #The Walking Dead #twd #x reader #daryl x reader

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sainadazai · 3 years

Text

When your crush is angry all the time

Ch.5

"I don't think fire's all that bad, you know"

3rd person pov

°•○●○•°•○●○•°

As the sun hung high in the sky the h/t haired girl stumbled around the train station in search of a restroom. Y/n had never experienced the mundane tasks a commoner would usually persue on a daily. Things like public transit, or any transit for that matter, were an enigma to her.

So while elder men stared a little too long and young children pointed at her in recognition, she spun in circles like a lost puppy.

"Its just a fucking bathroom, should there be someone here to direct people or something! Ugh and whats with the school girl fetish, these old guy are creeps..." she mumbled to herself continuing to get more and more lost on the platform.

Meanwhile, the rest of 1-A were making their way to internships as well, Midoriya scrolled into some old guys house, Kirishima bumped into his metal replica, and Bakugou held his grump posture and nonchilauntly entered the top 3 heros agency. He was expecting to at least learn something from this guy, or gain real life experience with villains. He never anticipated being scrutinized for his personality. No shit I'm scary, Im trying to kill shitty villains not make teenage girls put a picture of me on their wall.

For the first day of this new challenged everbody seemed to be having a ridiculously mundane time. Not y/n, though. No our main character was going through it, once she made it to the restroom, she got confused by how easily the toilet paper ripped in her hand and spent 20 minutes trying to get at least one whole time out of the stubborn roll. Then, when she opened up her bag to view the new hero-suot her mother helped design...she found strings¿

She ended up having to look at an example picture and read a guide on how to put what where. It took an additional hour considering the tightness of everpiece of fabric and when she stepped out of the stall to look in the mirror, she deadpanned. How could her mother hate her this much? It was already a burden being so sexy, but this? This was crazy.

She wasnt sure weather she should take a million photos, or never leave the bathroom and cry all day. However when her phone rang, a call from Mr.Woods agency, she realized how late she already must be.

In her rush, y/n also forgot about the creeps men and was recieving many stares, that went unnoticed. Until somebody had the audacity to touch her. It was just a ghost of his finger tips on the underneath of her ass that was no doubt on full display. That would not go accepted, as a girl who had turned her past trauma into nothing but a small personality traits, she wasnt scared. Still, as a woman who absolutely idolizes herself, or so she says, no one in this train station deserved the touch of her perfect, shiny, s/c skin.

The last error that secured her terrible first day was how y/n spun around and grabbed the mans fingertips. When she took a glance at him, he was smiling as if he had acomplished something. Boy was he wrong, only coming to realized so when the y/h girl suddenly had sprouted a vine from his finger.

He watched in fear as it began to grow and wrap around him, all the while the young girl he'd never met before let out a sickening aura that couldve suffocate him then and there. The vine continued to curl up around his middle and ring finger, slowly meeting the flash of his palm.

Once the growing stopped, y/n had almost decided to let him go. A part of her new that her plan wasn't well thought through, and he could be an innocent guy that accidentally touched her.

However, aggression outwayed logic and she looked him deep in the eye.

"You like using these fingers to touch things your not supposed to?"

"N-n-"

"Shhh, dont worry, im just gonna make sure you dont go touching things that arnt yours, okay?" She made an aggresive fist with the hand not touching him and the vine squeezed in. Anyone a foot away would be able to tell, but the both of them could hear how his two fingers snapped and bent under the pressure.

With a satisfied grin at the whispering man, y/n decided he had learned his lesson. Wow look at that, and I didnt even need some manly hero to come save me. Atta girl y/n.

Little did she know that not only did her pro-hero boss come to look for her, but je also saw the whole disaster. He was not pleased to say the least.

Y/n pov

°•○●○•°•○●○•°

As the tree like man sat down in his office chair across from me, all I could do was look to my feet. I didnt feel particularily had about my actions, however, I did feel bad about being late.

While it is fun to be spontanious and act like theres nothing to lose, I wasn't lying when I said I wanted to control the earth aspect of my quirk. Ill never admit it if someone asks, but sometimes the only way I can sleep at night is knowing how strong my quirk is. Knowing that they cant hurt me if I stay strong.

Still, it just seems that as I grow older, the people trying to get to be get bolder and more powerful. Some might even say...they get smarter, too. Thats a scary thought; that if I want to stay alive at all I need to be constantly improving. I am not sure if I want to stay alive or not, but Ill be damned if dying or living isnt my choice.

Feeling the need to break the silence, I began my rant on all the reasons I had come up with that justify my actions. I was planning it on the way out here.

"Look, im sorry mr.woods. I know im not very heroic and shit, but when perverts to pervert things somebody has to do something, and its not like anybody else there would have scared a glance if I didnt save myself-"

"Your wrong."

"Huh- I wasnt done. Anyways i-"

"L/n you are wrong."

"Dude im trying to-"

"There was heroes on patrol, how else did you think i found you? There were real heroes ready to protect you, if you had simply shouted people would have been alarmed of such. I dont understand kids and their need to do everything alone." He rolled his eyes behind his mask and continued to stare at me.

"Excuse me but I dont think your in a place to comment on how I react to myself being touched. He was gonna get my skin dirty and for what, two seconds of his school girl fantasy. Ew."

"Your skin....dirty?"

"Yes, he is nowhere near my standards on someone who should be allowed to touch me...not even a brush of the fingers..ugh!"

"Alright well, I cant get you in trouble because then I get in trouble...so, tell me about your quirk while we go on patrol."

His chair sqeaked against the floor as he stood up and it slid back. Then he motioned for me to follow by painting out the door.

Relieved that I didn't have to talk about all the fake reasons people aren't allowed to touch me, and that I could finally get outside so my quirk would stop suffocating me, I was quick to exit the building.

I'm not sure if its the fact that ive only been using a forth of her, but my quirks side effects have been so shitty recently. To the point that our school nurse estimsted my new rate for being inside for an extended period of time was about three hours.

I havent actually combusted in years, but I've been close and god does it hurt. My chest starts to squeeze and I can feel all the energy drain from my body, then pieces of me start to get hold and cold at the same time.

"So what really is your quirk?"

I looked up at the hero next to me as we continued on down the street of the inner City.

"How much did Aizawa tell you?"

"I-he said...she has all the right elements? And told me I'd figure it out.." He scratched the back of his head.

I smirked at that. Who knew aizawa actually listened to the words I said. I was pretty sure after the whole sulking chrollos dick thing, he would have permanently tuned me out.

"Heh, that raggedy ann bastard" I smile smugly.

"So, what does it mean?"

"Ahh, okay so, did you go to U.A?"

"Um yes kid, why?"

Then im certain je knows of my family, explaining my quirk will be easier. God, this really is my favorite part.

I reached my left hand out, knowing he was right handedly and would respond well to it and then spoke.

"Hi, nice to meet you, im y/n l/n of the elementus royal quirk family."

Once he shook my hand I did a polite curtsey, as I learned in ballet to do that instead of bowing. Its much more fun to do this at family event, where I get to wear big dresses and pretend im important...but this'll have to do.

"The-i-oh shit..." He mumbled the last part in defeat, likely just figuring out what he'd gotten himself in to.

"So, im guessing you've got ...."

"Total control, yup" I confirmed.

"And you wanna focus on earth elements, like what flowers?"

I smirk up at him allowing my aura to put an intimidating facade.

"Actually I was thing more like venus fly traps" as I said traps I let my hands clap together mimicking the plant and bit at the air with my teeth.

He stopped walking and just glanced from side to side, waiting for me to start making sense again.

Until we heard some crying in the distance.

The two of our heads shot over and were met with a strange sight. There were three young boys, looked about 8¿ and a man, hero maybe? Crouched in front of them not looking all that nice. He had spike blonde hair, red eyes, gauntlets on his wris-

"Oh my god its bakugou, look sir! Thats the hot guy I switched schools for!"

"Wha-"

"BAKUGOUUUU!! HEYYY!"

his head slowly shifted from the kids to me and it seemed to only make him more angry. Then, once again I couldn't help but bask in the pure aggression...in his eyes.

They were red, fitting for the anger thry held, but it was beautiful. It was passionate, the way he could yell for hours about god knows what because he cares. He may care about petty things, or silly things, but he always cares so much. So passionately. That I can see it in his eyes.

"Oh my, whAt is this costume deary?"best jeanist spoke from ahead of us as we approach.

"Hi sir, sorry about the skin showing, my quirk is heavily enhanced the more my pours are exposed to the natural elements, especially oxygen. If I was more covered parts of my body would begin to go completely numb. Also doesnt my body look amazing! Im a lot more in shape since you saved me last"

I blamed happily at jeanist. Though we arent neceserilly close, he is definitely a great hero and has always been someone who easily sees through my façaude. Plus his fashion sense is wonderful and I often send him pictures of my outfits. Although he doesnt respond I know he sees them and if they were bad he would be mean about it instead of ignoring it.

"Well. It definitely gives your body..access to that. And the sword?"

Ahh...the sword that I liked to carry. It was now stored in its place on my back.

"Call it a good luck charm, plus, we cant rely only on our quirks, then we are just weak people with strong powers. Rather than strong people."

I was always one to put on a show for him, as I do for lost of pro heroes. Its a lot more fun to say things like your all serious and fancy and smart sometimes. Its my little inside joke with myself, like to laugh at how easily people are awed by it.

Like how even though children were still crying bakgou was staring at me face void of emotion, completely struck at my words.

Definitely not..staring at my body that was exposed. Not eyeing the tight strap that wraps my left leg, that he doesnt know is a funcional lasso.

Noticing him, im quick to avert my attention.

"Hey bakugou~"

"Tch you really went from shitty princess to slutty princess huh?"

"You really went from telling deku you'd be number one hero, to making kids cry on the street, huh?" I challenged

I heard the crying boys laugh a little, just the age reminded me of my brother, Im sure they have nothing in common, but I havent seen any of my brothers in quite some time so I suppose a small part of me was just projecting.

I hated that they were crying, though. Ussually I dont like kids, they are stinky and gross and the main reason people have been ruining my life up til now. However, noticing these three reacting to bakugou in a way I wish emotionally available enough for, it made me feel obligated to help them. Wierd, huh.

"Hey, did that guy use his fire all scary?"

"Yeah, he was gonna kill us"

"Fires scary."

I giggled a bit, I knew fire like the back of my hand. It was the first thing I mastered as a child and the way I see bakugou use it doesnt to the element justice.

"Hm, well, I dont think so...can I show you something?"

The kid in the middle, apparently the braver of them, lifted his gaze from the concrete to meet my eyes. Just as I crouched down to my knees in front of them he nodded up at me.

I smiled at this, proud that I earned his trust for...some odd reason.

My hands formed a cup shape in front of him and I focused my ears so I could hear the blood rushing through my own brain, like waves. This was how I learned to use elements singularly: by using my internally noise to block out everything else.

I first allowed a small line of fire to dance around, now bigger than a candle wick. Then through another, and another as the boy watched carefully. Not yet impressed his face was still caustious. However I continued focusing my energy, feeling my body, the air around me, the heat of the sun, even remember the passion from bakugous crimson eyes.

I as I did so the many small flames twirled and twisted within eachother forming into a beautiful blue and orange fluctuating flower.

The boy looked into my hands mouth now agape, tears dried, fear gone. Then, again, for some reasons unbeknownst to me... I felt a sense of pride.

He tapped his friends so they would look up and I continued making my fire into different things, birds, planes, people. The kids were entranced.

I looked back to see the two pros staring at me with a certain level of pride mixer with shock. While bakugou seemed at a loss for words. God knows why this time?

"I don't think fire is all that bad you know..."

"Pft, yeah, I know kid," with that I threw my little flames above their heads and let the sparks fall down of them like shiny glitter. Then, overwhelmed with this horrible feeling in my chest. I retreatdd to my boss for the weak. Was that..happiness? Ew.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #mha bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakusquad #bnha bakugo katsuki #mha deku #mha fanfiction #mha todoroki #mha fluff

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