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twi-liight · 1 year ago

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Hi! I suffer from Baldur's Gate brainrot. I just stumbled upon your blog and love your writing! Could you do some Astarion, Gale and Karlach headcanons for taking care of Tav after they're badly injured in battle?

Reckless Attack ❣

Grieve, weep, and agonize over a corpse - but know that death is never final in Faerun. The burden of injuries will instead always be present: pain is eternal, no matter how numb. ❥ Astarion/Tav, Gale/Tav, Karlach/Tav. ❥ TW: Descriptive mentions of injuries and gore. ❥ Act 2 spoilers. ❥ They/them pronouns for Tav. ❥ Tav is the nickname for the reader/oc insert. Their real name is up to you!

An Absolutist cult has gathered deep in the bowels of the forests of Rivington. Nothing out of the ordinary... Other than the sheer numbers they possess, creating a dense population of Absolute extremists gathered in stone ruins.

Adventuring parties that dare to end their machinations perished slowly and painfully. Their corpses - what is left of them - are displayed pierced from the gnarled branches of the trees, where they bleed out on the forest ground.

Tav, Astarion, Gale, and Karlach had a plan: throw a barrel full of smoke bombs into the middle of the ruins, firebolt, and profit. Except things didn’t go according to plan (they never do). That barrel was supposed to be at their rendezvous point, but the cultists found it before they did and thought it a gift from their Goddess.

Trapped in hiding, Tav decided to do what they do best: attack.

A potent necromancy curse was successfully cast on Tav, negating any healing spells thrown their way.

Well.

Fuck.

ASTARION

"As always, you refuse to listen to me. And now look at you: a mess. What did I say about running afool to the vanguard?" Astarion does not wait for their response. “Don't do it. It is smarter to be in the shadows in this instance. And what did you do? Ran alone into a quarry of cultists with no sense of self-preservation!”

Anger, pure anger, is present in his voice, sharpening his typical melodic lilt into daggers. If he cared about the present company - Shadowheart, Halsin, and Gale crowded into a tent, surrounding Tav upon their cot - it is nonexistent in his wine-red eyes. They could get lost in those bloody depths for hours. But not now. Not when seething rage roils off of his body like a cloud of darkness.

They look away.

"Nothing to say for yourself, darling?” he mocks. Astarion’s visage twists into a sneer, sharply turning his face away from them. He finds an unused rag, wets it, wrings it of excess water, and then moves past Shadowheart. “Allow me,” he murmurs to her, gentler.

Shadowheart’s inquisitive green eyes understand the depth of the situation immediately. She sighs, clearly annoyed he has taken over her job, but is dissuaded by Astarion’s next string of words: “I’ll clean them up. Magic and healing and all that wonderful nonsense are not necessarily my area of expertise. A firebolt here and there, surely, but I wouldn’t know where to begin with a curse that... Negates healing magic.”

“Sure,” Shadowheart replies, eyes flicking to Tav. Worry is evident over her features. Worry hangs heavy around everyone. Emerging out of battles victorious and grievously injured is commonplace; nothing a mass healing word couldn't fix along with a good night’s rest. Open wounds would be closed scars, ailments would be cured, and broken bones would be unbroken. Rinse and repeat.

This time, it is different.

They, and they alone, were cursed with a necromancy spell that makes all healing magic useless to their wounds.

Their wounds are appalling: Broken ribs evident with the pain swelling in their chest and labored breathing, purple and black blotchy bruises from the hammer blows they took to the shoulder, an open laceration across their chest, their ankle snapped in two, burns on their left leg crawling up their thigh. Blood all over their face from their own and from the enemies they felled.

“Hey, it’s fine,” they wheeze out. "Nothing I can't handle. The cultists are down and dead and buried - everything else can come after."

Hesitantly, Gale opens his mouth to reply, but is abruptly cut off by Astarion snapping out: "No."

"No," they echo. Their brows furrow.

"What a saint you are," Astarion snarls. His lips are down-turned, fangs bared as he speaks, but his ministrations upon their face are soothing. Gently, he rubs off the blood with a cool washcloth, eyes focusing on the task at hand as he cannot bear to look at them.

"Throwing yourself into the heat of battle like that, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Tell me, my dear, do you enjoy watching rational fly past you when you make your impulsive decisions?"

They flush with humiliation and hurt. Broken and battered, they dig their elbow into the cot to prop themselves up and face Astarion head-on, but Halsin presses a hand into their shoulder and pushes them down.

Fuck. Their head spins in circles.

"You're one to talk. Impulsivity is your middle name; you said yourself that planning is not your forte." Even raising their voice hurts but they do it anyway. Their eyes, threatening to slip into oblivion, flood with frustrated tears. "What the fuck is your problem, Astarion?"

"Must I really spell it out for you, sweetheart? You go around, telling everyone exactly what they need to hear. You tell them they aren't alone. That you will help them, that you will ensure they see the future that they want." The words are venom: petty and spiteful and yearning to be understood. "You," Astarion hisses out, "are so blind."

Tempers rising to fever pitch, Halsin tenses from his spot at the foot of the cot. From the corner of Tav's eye, they see Gale murmur something to him, something like, Let this play out. Astarion would never hurt them.

"I am the only one who will take the first step!" Tav cries. The words explode out of their broken chest faster than they realize, flying like an arrow straight toward Astarion's unbeating heart. "I risk my life - every day - for all of YOU! For all the people that need me! For all that I am because-"

"Because what?" He taunts. "Because it is the right thing to do? Look at yourself, Tav! You are on death's door if not for everyone in this room!"

"Because no one else will do it! Not anyone in this damn camp cares enough to- to help the people we could-" They cough violently, but they slam their elbows into the cot to prop themselves up. No one stops them this time as they meet Astarion's burning eyes. "No one cares but ME-"

"WE care about you!" Louder. Vicious. Astarion's voice splits in the air in two in one fell swoop, striking them down like lightning into silence.

He's breathing heavily, panting, as if exhausted. The adrenaline pumping in his veins is begging him to swoop Tav up and run away with them. Away from all of this bullshit and into hiding within the shadows. Maybe the Underdark. Maybe the Shadowcursed Lands. They can descend into madness together.

At least there, they will be safe.

"I care about you," Astarion chokes out before he can stop himself. "More than anything. Do you know that? I hope you know that."

Their mouth forms the words to reply, Of course I do, but it doesn't leave their throat. Instead, it stays stuck there like a fluttering butterfly, forced into silence. It hurts to speak. It hurts to talk. It hurts to see him like this.

He calls out their name so quietly it could have been a trick of the wind.

"Astarion," they plead.

He shakes his head, stubborn and unconvinced. "You don't owe these people anything. You certainly do not owe them your life for their burdens. I," he breathes out, voice as shaky as a leaf in the wind. He screws his eyes shut and clenches his fist around the rag, where their blood stains his palm.

"I almost lost the sun of my life today."

When Astarion opens his eyes, they are steeled with resilience and fury as they gaze into theirs. It is hypnotic. It is lonely. They yearn to comfort him.

"It will not happen again."

GALE

"Easy," Gale murmurs, a strong arm laying them down in his tent. Soft blankets and pillows meet their back, and the cushy grass beneath makes for a cool and comforting sleep. Their breath stutters, but Gale gazes at them so fondly as he pushes their hair from their face that the pain eases.

He does not miss their labored breathing. "Shhh shh shh. I've got you. Just focus on me."

His thumb lingers on the swell of their cheek. His eyes flutter close. A gentle glow of purple surrounds him, and eventually, that gentleness extends to Tav. The agonizing, piercing sensation in their chest numbs into a cool, muted nothingness. They gasp - then exhale in relief, slower than their panicky, short breaths from before.

"That's it," he encourages. "Well done, my love. How are you feeling?"

"So-so," they reply. Their voice aches and croaks, but for some reason, it makes Gale smile.

Oh no. He knows that look.

They study his handsome, tired face, looking for any signs of alarm. Is he hungry? Does he need to feed on another artefact? Was there an envoy telling them they missed another Absolutist hideout? Did they miss something? Did they do something wrong?

No. Nope. "Enough of that." He takes their hand, kisses their knuckles, then sighs. "You're the last person who should be worrying about someone. Such a pest, hm? Always buzzing around me like I'm seconds away from disappearing in front of your eyes..."

"You are," they say. Their brows furrow, and they pant out, "The-- your burden to carry, the--"

"The orb, I know. I know." His heart twists. It aches. He failed Mystra before and that was painful. But this is another subject entirely; it couldn't come close. Watching sheer heartbreak in their expression because of him? Oh, Goddess forgive him, he has failed them.

Gale can scarcely celebrate his victory, too. He undid the damned curse that affected Tav's ability to receive magic. The necromancy spell was so potent that Tav rejected any healing spells thrown at them. Late into the hours of experimentation, he, Halsin, and Shadowheart considered allowing the effects to wither and die rather than exterminating it outright. It was Jaheira who told them it would be inefficient, because how long would they have to wait in camp while Tav rode out the effects of the curse? Ideally? Hours. But days? Weeks? Months?

He spent the long night following and feeling out the curse with the Weave. It was a complicated hex - a tangled knot of magic that had to be unwoven carefully, thread by thread. Every connotation, every intent was traced back to the heart of the curse, and he followed it with abandon.

"I'm sorry for all the trouble, then," they whisper.

"You should be," he jests. "Nearly made my heart collapse, seeing you like that."

The image is still burned into his mind. He can't stop thinking about it. His mortality has always been a dreadful afterthought pushed into the further recesses of his tadpole-addled brain, but was he so taken with Tav that he never realized how mortal they were, too?

No. No. Gale tightens his grip on their hand, giving them a comforting squeeze as they breathe in and out, in and out. It's not that he never realized how susceptible they are to death and danger. He just never wanted to confront it.

"You are changing the very premise of my life," he says softly. An exasperated chuckle leaves him as he shakes his head, adding, "as always. I don't know what I would have done if I actually lost you, back there." What wouldn't I do? "No scrolls of revivifies, no Withers to bring you back. I wouldn't be able to accept it."

He understands Ketheric Thorm all too well, now.

"Come here," they whisper. Gale lets their hands press into the back of his head. He thinks, absently, that he would let them do much of anything. In their care, he is no grand wizard with a plethora of achievements under his belt. No. He is as humble as the Weave itself, and their hands compose music and art for him to simply bear witness to.

They rest his head upon their chest, where his ear can listen to the comforting sound of their beating heart.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud thud.

"Good night, my love," Gale says, when their breathing evens and they have finally fallen into peaceful slumber. He does not sleep at all.

KARLACH

"Oh gods. Oh gods!" Karlach clasps Tav's left hand between hers, holding tightly and vowing to never let go. Their blood stains her hand and chest and clothes. It's everywhere. Sickly sweet and sticky, drawing all of her attention from the room to the sensation of it dripping down her skin.

They've lost so much blood. It's nauseating, like an unsettling reality has just settled in her stomach.

"Tav!" She exclaims, helpless and pathetic. "Why did you do that, you big idiot? You seriously could have gotten killed out there, why-- why aren't you..."

Responding? Where are their quips, their sass, their brightness she fell so fast and hard for? Tav lays there upon the cot, broken and battered. Karlach has seen the remains of her enemies after she has slaughtered them and has barely flinched. She can barely stomach the sight of them bloodied, bones twisted in the wrong way, bruises so purple they're as black as a chasm.

All they can do is breathe. Their eyes focus distantly above them to the roof of the tent, but nothing else.

Panic seizes her faster than she can control it. "Are they breathing?! Are they going to survive this?! Fuck," she growls, running a frustrated hand through her dark hair, matted with blood. "I should have made those sons of bitches suffer."

"Karlach," Shadowheart says, firm but gentle, her hands bloody too as she applied pressure down on Tav's wounds, "it was important that you returned them to camp as fast as you did. Sometimes, we do not have the luxuries to let our enemies die in pain."

Right. Right. Karlach watched an Absolutist barbarian slam his warhammer into Tav's back. Once to knock them down. Twice to keep them plastered on the ground. Once more to keep them unconscious. She saw red, then: the rage she slipped into boiled her veins so hot, the howl she let out sent her surroundings enemies into a frightened frenzy. She hacked her great axe into the barbarian over and over and over until he was nothing but a bloodied pulp of a man, more gore than flesh.

She scooped Tav up from the ground. Karlach never let anyone else touch them. She snarled and snapped at the others who tried to come too close and dead sprinted as fast as she could back to camp.

She heard their choked sobs of pain in her arms. They choked out her name, and Karlach couldn't offer them much of anything other than an, "We're going home, bubs, just hang on. 'Kay? You just focus on me."

"Can I stay here?" She begs Shadowheart. "I won't get in the way. Just let me hold their hand, please."

Shadowheart exchanges a conflicted glance at Halsin. He nods, and she sighs. "Fine," she says. "But - I need you to stand to the side for now. You can hold their hand after we're done figuring out how to undo this curse."

"A fine specimen of a curse, really," Gale adds, his hand curled under his chin. "I'm almost impressed."

"I would be too," huffs Shadowheart, "if our reckless leader wasn't caught up in this mess. Really, what were you thinking?"

"Right?" Karlach shoves off into the corner of the tent, doing her best to keep herself as small and as out-of-the-way as possible. Tears flood her eyes, and she chokes out, "Of all the things to do, why did it have to be that? I thought you said you trusted me! To have your back! I have your back, don't I? Don't I?"

"Of course you do," Halsin croons. He hooks his finger into a bottle of salve, and spreads it on Tav's burns. Tav visibly winces and tenses, whimpering in pain.

"Stop whatever you're doing right now!" Karlach wails. "You're hurting them! I'll kill you, Halsin, I swear it!"

Gale exchanges a look with Shadowheart. He ponders deeply for a moment as Karlach sobs devastatingly behind them. He opens his mouth, then shuts it promptly.

"Just say it," Shadowheart urges impatiently.

"We should play a game," he suggests. "The quiet game."

"No way," Karlach hiccups. "I'm dogshit at that game. Anyway, focus on Tav or I'll gut you, seriously."

❥ Additional links: kofi | ao3

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 x reader #bg3 x you #baldur's gate 3 x reader #baldur's gate 3 x you #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion #astarion x tav #gale x reader #gale x you #gale x tav #karlach x reader #karlach x you #karlach x tav #shadowheart #halsin #halsin is always just there. like. yeah ok guys. whatever

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francixoxoxo · 5 months ago

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MDNI; nsfw smut headcanons!!

Billy doesn’t have all the time in the world, but whatever he does have, he wants to spend it with his girl. So whenever you and him get more than a minute alone, best believe that man is jumping on you!! Billy knows how to make it last, but with the hectic life he leads, he’s got real good at quickies. Give him five minutes and he’s gotten an orgasm or two out of you, pumping his fingers into your cunt or laving his tongue over your clit. Give him ten, and he’s bending you over the nearest surface, his chest to your back so he can whisper sweet words while he fucks you into tomorrow. Sometimes he’s laying down his jacket on the ground for you to lay on, or even lifting you against the wall, his hands holding you up under your ass. Stark comparison to the man who gently buttons your shirt back up, fixes your hair, sends you off with the sweetest of kisses to your forehead and promises for later. Billy knows every bit of your body like the back of his hand, and he doesn’t want to wait for the “right time and place” to get you off. Well, that doesn’t mean he isn’t keeping you up all night the moment he gets the chance to really take it slow.

Finnick has a bad history with intimacy, if you could even call it intimate. He didn’t even think he’d look forward to it with you; as healthy as it is, he just didnt feel right mingling something he associates with pain, with you. But after the first time, oh, his mind is changed. He only ever wants it with you. He’s not into anything degrading, anything harsh. His experiences with that have never, ever been good, and he can’t bring himself to want that with you. Finnick’s loving, he’s gentle, that man takes his sweet time. He takes his time roving his hands over your form, murmuring praise to you. He’s damn experienced, sadly. He knows every trick in the book to get you to come; a hand pressing on your lower belly, a pillow under your back, just the angle that’ll make you wail. No matter how aggressive or rough you ask him to go— because honestly, he wouldn’t ever suggest it first, I feel like he gets enough of that from clients that he can’t get with it, especially not with someone he loves so much— he’s telling you just how perfect you are, just how amazing you feel around his cock, and just how beautiful you look underneath him. Finnick’s also probably the best ever at aftercare; showering with you and washing your hair, or just cleaning you quickly with his own discarded shirt, grabbing you a bottle of water and snuggling up close. Of all the experiences he’s had, he still enjoys the afterglow the best.

Coriolanus likes control in almost every aspect of his life. Your sex life is no different, but frankly, once he discovers the feeling of you on top of him, he makes an exception. It has to be his favorite, watching you fuck yourself over his cock, your freshly manicured nails scratching the back of his head. The snarky, brattish side of you had always been his favorite, the side that snipped back at his comments and curled her lip when he was being stupid. When you get tired and your rhythm ticks off, he’s grabbing your hips, bullying his dick up into you while you groan into his neck. He’ll kiss the bruises and wipe the tears afterward, when you’re cleaned and wrapped up in his blankets. And and and lingerie, don’t get him started. Coriolanus insists on buying you a new pair every occasion; birthday, you get a maroon, lacy set. Anniversary, obviously you get a blood-red crotchless pair. He passes a bill, you’re out to celebrate? Coryo hums that maybe you should open the gift when you get home. He has good taste, your husband. by the time you step out of the bathroom you change in, he’s already rock hard in his slacks, reaching for you. Sure, he loves buying you lingerie and clothes, but he likes ruining them just as much.

I’ll just say it bro Sejanus is huge. Not just in stature but his ahem. His weiner. He’s stupid thick, and the first time he pushes in, he can tell you’re already gone. It takes a minute to get used to, no matter how often you have sex, but Sejanus is a patient guy. He smatters kisses along your shoulder and your chin, and once he starts to push his hips into yours with purpose, his forehead rests against your cheek. He’s gentle, this boy, attentive, listening to every cue he can pick up to make sure you like it. Just because he knows he’s a lot for you to take, he’s sweet and careful, murmuring that you’re doing good as his cock stretches your walls to the brim. I think Sej would be a bit quieter, he’s more focused on listening to you than talking himself, but that doesn’t mean he lets a handful of groans and “fuck, you’re perfect”’s slip. Honestly, fucking Sejanus is being trapped under him, his large frame locking you in place, his burly arms bracketing your face like walls. When this man’s inside you, there’s not much that can get him to stop or distract him. He’s also totally the type to crack either a very lame dad joke or an awful dirty joke during sex, your breathless giggling prompting his own laughter, even if he’s literally balls deep. Afterward, he pulls you to him, grabbing onto you like you’re his personal teddy bear, mumbling that you can both shower in a minute, but he just wants to hold you. You end up in soft, quiet conversation about everything and nothing, filling the scarce space between your faces with silly thoughts until one of you dozes off.

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cosmosis · 2 years ago

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MOVED TO @seratopia

miguel o’hara x reader (fluff) - surprise visit modern au!

an unfamiliar secretary won’t let you into the building to visit your husband, Miguel, at his office

Visiting your husband at work may as well be the best way for you to spend your day off. He’s been working hard, his passion truly bursting at the seams when he talks to you about the latest improvement project he’s been working on for the past three weeks.

You’re walking down the sidewalk in an outfit you knew would make Miguel go crazy, holding a nice bouquet of flowers in your arm. You decided men don’t get flowers enough, so you’re here to fill in that gap. He really deserves more than flowers anyway.

With the badge embedded into your watch, you scan your wrist against the access monitor on the wall. The doors automatically open, and you feel a nice gust of air conditioning run into you.

The office is very modern, clean, and sleek. All around you are advanced units of technology; a result of your husband’s successes. It smells the same it always has; clean, crisp, and slightly minty. As you walk through the doors, you’re greeted with the exact same things you always are; same lounge chairs, same grand elevator...

Though, you don’t recognize the secretary at the desk.

She’s blonde, red lipstick smeared onto her tight lips in an unwelcoming frown. A matching pearl set adorned over her crisp, dark blue blazer.

Usually, you’d say hi to the secretary you knew, Lyla. You assume she got fired, which was a real shame, you love her sass. She was always so kind to you, saying hi with a smile, or offering to help guide you through the office and such.

But instead, you walk right past the desk, digging through your memories to find how you managed to find Miguel’s main office last time.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?“

Her voice is just as snarky as you had imagined.

“Visiting Miguel?“ You pause, your patience already growing extremely thin for the new secretary. You’d probably chat about this to Miguel later, maybe bat an eyelash or two to convince him about hiring someone different.

“Nuh uh! Miguel O’Hara is busy right now, not open for any visitors at the moment.“ She replies, fixating her eyes on the large monitor in front of her.

You pause for a moment, critically thinking things through for a moment.

“Oh! I get it. M’am, you haven’t met me before, have you?“ You ask, trying your best to not crinkle the flowers in your hands. She raises a single eyebrow, glaring as if you insulted her mother. (Which, you might as well should do.)

“I’m Miguel’s spouse. He lets me visit him whenever, I even have my badge right here-“

She holds up a single manicured finger.

“Nice try, but my charts right here say that Miguel is busy at the moment. Try another time, maybe send him a fan letter or something.“

Your blood starts to boil as the new secretary has a satisfied smirk on her face.

Instead of choosing violence and risking your hair getting ruined, you opt for the better option. Glaring at the desk manager directly in the eye, you pull out your cellphone from your pocket, manually pressing the contact button for Miguel. You wait for the phone to dial, pressing the cellular to your ear whilst examining your own nails.

And finally, he answers.

“Hm? You need something, honey?“

“Miguel.“

Miguel on the other line, freezes to a halt. Now, he knows he’s in trouble. Carefully, he clears his throat.

“What is it, sweetie?“

You take a deep breath. “Your... secretary isn’t letting me into the office. Will you fix that, please?”

Miguel pinches between his eyebrows, groaning.

“Of course, hun. I’ll be down in a sec.“

“Thank you, Miguel.“

The call ends, but the secretary still stares at you like you’ve thrown up all over her salad. She almost looks like she’s going to laugh, which makes you even madder.

Within literally a few seconds, the elevator whirs to a halt, the top light switching on with a chime. As expected, your husband walks through the sliding doors, clad in a crisp white dress shirt and office pants. He’s so undeniably gorgeous, you almost consider forgiving the secretary.

But, you don’t.

“Ah, Miguel, this p-“

“Shut your mouth for moment, would you?“

The woman is taken aback, red bursting onto her cheeks as her fake smile melts into a frown. Her mouth is left agape, watching as Miguel saunters over to you with a smile.

“What happened?“ Miguel asks, his Office Face™ dissolving into a genuine smile. He slots his hands to your waist, silently peering at the flowers in your arms.

“Well, I was going to come surprise you... but then she said that you were busy.” You reply, pouting.

“Aww, baby, it’s okay.“ He smooches the top of your head. “The flowers are pretty. I’ll handle this.“

Miguel then swerves around, this time with his Office Face™ on. He keeps his hand glued to your side, each step of his getting louder and louder as he makes his way towards the desk.

“Tiffany.“

Tiffany, in question, shudders, keeping her eyes glued to the floor while a shit-eating smirk finds its’ way onto your face. No remorse whatsoever.

“From now, until tonight, please let my partner into the building whenever they like.“

“Yes, sir. Why until tonight?“

“Because I’m firing you from any future stand-in’s, or any sort of work in here for the matter.“

Miguel: 1 Tiffany: 0

Tiffany looks like she has so much she wants to say, so much that she could scream at this very moment... but instead, she stays silent. You can see a vein practically ready to burst at her temple, her jaw grinding her teeth in her mouth.

“I will dismiss you at the end of the day, Tiffany. I expect you to cause no more trouble until then.“

Tiffany is left utterly speechless, her jaw left slightly agape. Miguel ushers you by your back towards the elevator, poking and prodding his finger at the flowers in your grasp.

Automatically, the elevator doors smoothly slide open, and you both step inside. You stare at the glass view outside, watching as the two of you get higher and higher above the city.

“I even had my badge, and she didn’t let me.“ You frown, indulgently leaning into Miguel’s chest.

“I’m sorry, hun. Lyla’s out sick for a bit, so she was the only substitute I could find for today.“

Apologetically, he rubs your back, secretly praying that you’d forget about the whole ordeal so you’d pay attention to him instead.

“S’okay. Thank god Lyla wasn’t fired.“ You mumble, breathing a sigh of relief.

“She’s annoying, but she does her job well.“ Miguel remarks, and you gasp, personally offended on behalf of your beloved Lyla.

“No she’s not! She’s super nice, actually.“

“Whatever.” Miguel scoffs. “Kiss me.”

“No. You called Lyla annoying.”

these oneshots have really skyrocketed my account! thank you guys so much for the positive feedback, i love loveee reading all the comments i get! please stay tuned for more!

- cosmosis <333

#miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara spider man #spider man #spiderman #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #lyla #atsv lyla #lyla across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #atsv #x reader #reader insert #fluff #romance #cosmosis-writes ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

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etfrin · 1 year ago

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❝ꜱᴏᴜʟꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ❞ — chapter one | coriolanus snow

「ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ:」 SFW | Coriolanus is his own warning, elitism

「ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ:」 young! Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader

「ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:」 Coriolanus finds out the plint prize won't be his, at least for now but the district twelve girl belongs to him

「ᴀ/ɴ:」 here's the first chapter ;)) hope you like it?! Remember to give feedback guys! And beta read by @nowitsmissing

series masterlist | series taglist | navigation

previous : prologue

Coriolanus Snow wakes up to his grandmother singing the Panem national anthem. He quickly takes a shower, trying to ignore the squeaks of rats in his bathroom. He rubs himself clean, turning his skin red from the raw scrubbing. He stops as his fingers brush on the scar tissue he has on his wrist.

He takes a deep breath, not letting his mind wander off to you. It's the reaping day. It's the plinth prize. A prize he was going to win. You were of no importance today, or ever for that matter.

But still, he can't help but imagine that the date was etched on his skin. The numbers were written with ink darker than the night, now all that remained was an ugly scar that gave him a nastier remainder.

He shakes himself out of it. His hands grab a towel to dry himself. He fixes his curls, trying to make them as stylish as possible. He has a reputation to keep up after all. Thankfully, today wasn't one of the days in which his eye bags were obvious, the hollow of his cheeks too obvious due to lack of food.

He looked surprisingly healthy like any privileged Capitol citizen would look like.

He gets out of the bathroom to go to his grandma’ams. He gives her a note on her singing of the national anthem before asking her where Tigris is. Just on cue, Tigris bursts in.

Her voice was excited, her face all smiles. She hands him a shirt, his dad's old dress shirt renewed with tesserae buttons. He wore it, letting his cousin rant about the process of it all. Even though he had no interest in listening, it was a thank you in his way.

He pins the rose given to him on his shirt. Teasing his family members about new dresses and chocolates. He was going to win the Plinth Prize, nobody could take this away from him. It was his right.

In the academy, he chats with his inner circle. Making snide comments about Sejanus and his Ma. That's when you come in, a drink in your hand. Your eyebrows are raised as you look at Arachne with barely hidden disgust.

Fuck, you looked stunning in your dress. He has to dig his nails into his palm to remind himself not to stare. Why are you torturing him by being so pretty? You're just a district girl, you had no business having such beauty.

“Tell us who won,” Arachne said with her haughty voice, “Your boy toy surely would have spoiled it by now.” You laugh in response.

A small giggle escapes your lips. You don't take offense by having Sejanus being called your boy toy. Coriolanus wants to furrow his eyebrows from your reaction. Were you and Sejanus dating? No way in hell. Even if you're district, you're better than Sejanus in every way. He wants to scowl at the implications.

(You're his, his, his)

“I wouldn't dare ruin his big day, Arachne,” Sejanus's voice rings out instead, him standing behind you. His arm around your shoulder. “People may not like my father but they do love his money. Surely you can relate?” Sejanus grins.

“Funny,” Arachne replied with a sneer.

You rolled your eyes, “Don't be mean, Sej.” You sip your drink and Coriolanus’ eyes can't help but follow the movement of your tongue poking out to lick your lips clean of the drink. His eyes also glare at Sejanus's hand on your shoulder, a part of him wishing he could break his arm.

You turn to Coriolanus. “Nice shirt,” you comment with a smile, and Snow can tell it's more genuine than anything you flashed at the rest of your classmates. He feels himself flush at the compliment. Not even stopping you even though he should because why should your dirty hands touch him? But he doesn't stop you when your fingers reach out to delicately touch the red rose pinned to his shirt.

“Such a beautiful flower,” you mutter in fascination, “and fresh too.” You tear away a rose petal, crushing the poor thing between your fingers, the tip of your fingers turning red.

He watched, no thoughts in his mind but he knew he should be offended. It has been ten years of your behavior he had endured, yet not once could he open his mouth to insult you.

How weak had you turned him since day one. If anyone knew, he would be ruined.

“Did you have to do that?” Clementia frowns, “Flowers are significant to the Snows.'' You only smirk in reply to Clementia. “I see,” you comment, before taking Sejanus's hand in yours.

You begin to walk away but Snow sees you turn around for a split second. Your eyes meet his and your lips form a word. Sorry. He mouths back, ‘ It's fine. ’

You smile at him and turn back, walking towards the chair where the top 24 seniors are supposed to sit, waiting for the announcement. You had let go of Sejanus’ hand by then, letting relief fall over Coriolanus.

Coryo's fingers rub the scar tissue over the fabric of his shirt. It was going to be fine. Over the years, both of you have grown up a lot. Despite having district blood, you consider yourself Capitol more than Sejanus did. You had adjusted first, and even if your peers didn't accept you, their families were certainly charmed by you during the galas.

You were smarter than Sejanus. You were better than Sejanus. Certainly, you couldn't be compared to the Capitol citizens, but you were worthy in Coriolanus' eyes. That doesn't mean he accepts you as his soulmate. That's something that won't ever change, however, the pride he felt towards you is something he couldn't control.

Coriolanus sits between you and Sejanus. He liked the fact that he was in between like a border neither of you should cross. Sejanus whispered to him, his voice grating but Coriolanus heard what he said.

“I know you had high hopes for this,” he whispered, “But there won't be no Plinth Prize. Not today.”

Coriolanus freezes as he hears what Sejanus means. What does he mean by no Plinth Prize? Never in history is that possible. Sejanus must have been mistaken. That's it because otherwise, everything in Coriolanus Snows’ life would go to hell.

However, Sejanus wasn't a liar nor did he make a mistake. Dean Highbottom soon revealed that the 10th annual Hunger Games and the mentor who won will win the prestigious prize Coriolanus needs. Livia Cardew, the girl he loathed, got someone from district one. Sejanus, the lucky bastard, had gotten someone in district two.

You had gotten the boy from district twelve. Someone named Jessup. The boy was healthy, fit, someone who could win under your guidance. Anger blooms in Coriolanus' chest, he tries hard to control the urge to not throw a chair at Dean Highbottom.

Even God wouldn't be so petty as the dean is. For reasons unknown why. The district twelve girl was his. Lucy Gray Braid.

Her makeup is jarring, she was wearing a dress that reminded him of clowns if they used more colors than red and white. The only thing good about her was how she captured attention despite the fact she had already insulted Snow by creating a facade in the reaping.

You can't take my sass

You can't take my talkin'

You can kiss my ass!

He looked at you when he heard the last part. A part of him craved your reaction, surely out of everyone, you wouldn't mock his tribute. You were district yourself after all. You wouldn't mock your people.

What Coriolanus Snow forgot was that you were his soulmate. And in no way the fates would allow his lover to be a saint, an angel as he had hoped for. You were anything but.

You had cruel amusement gleaming in your eyes. A smile of triumph on your lips as if you're sure that you will win the Hunger Games and not him. You turn to him, your eyes hiding the cruelty. You lean forward and Coriolanus counts to ten in his head so his eyes don't fall on your lipstick-stained lips.

“May the best man win,” you whispered, a smirk on your face, filled with the mockery all too familiar like the rest of his peers.

He was going to fucking show you.

“And hereby I declare the beginning of the 10th annual Hunger Games. May the odds be in your favor,” Dr. Gaul's voice calls out to the students.

Odds will be in his favor, whether it be willing by the Lord or his brute force.

Next Chapter

taglist : @tristanswildcat @alllriseabove @sushirolliee

@masimptoowth @ppcowboyprincess @lauravanderbooben20 @captainbabybear

@linkcommercial831 @write-from-the-heart

@kodzuvk @arzua10 @frill04 @cremebruleequeen @illmindedyetfamilliar @nan-nie @xreaderandreaderinserts @impeterporker @shoutingcardinal @coffee-tulips-books @555saccharine @insomniac1345 @chaoticcoffeequeen @xyraphine

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erwinsvow · 11 months ago

Text

They call you the clueless pogue. The pretty one.

You don’t care much either way—that comes from years of being Kiara’s best friend, she’s taught you well on how to ignore what other people think and say about you. Maybe you would care more, you think one day, watching JJ and Pope drive each other crazy while trying to fix something that’s inexplicably gone wrong with the Twinkie. John B is swinging in the hammock, eyes closed, empty beer in his hand that is soon replaced with a fresh one by Kie. She drops the old can into a bin that has the recycling symbol drawn on with a sharpie, her own creation. She walks towards you with a can of fruity seltzer since it’s well known with your new friends that you refuse to drink beer—and it all feels very domestic.

You might care about what other people say if you didn’t love your friends so much.

You are a little clueless though—at least the boys think so. They wouldn’t dare to say anything when your protective best friend was around, but when it’s just you and one of them, or all of them, it comes out a little more.

You wear the kind of clothes that they wouldn’t let a sister of theirs be caught dead in. They never used to care about stuff like that, not until you started hanging around more often. It was the result of absent parents that were only on the island a few months out of the year. The rest of the time you had free reign, and an unlimited credit card that often funded their adventures—gas for the Twinkie, beer for the night, a new outfit to wear to the party.

JJ gets into a fist-fight with a guy who keeps offering you a drink from the keg, not listening no matter how many times you refuse and grabbing the short hem of your yellow dress to yank you back. JJ doesn’t mean to knock him out—it’s just like instinct, he explains later that night to John B and Pope while you’re sound asleep on the pull-out with Kiara—the way he feels protective over you.

“Are you okay?” Kie asks, and you smooth out your dress from where that guy had grabbed it.

“Only because JJ saved me,” you say, looking at him with big doe eyes and fluttering eyelashes. He swallows uncomfortably.

“No biggie, princess, I mean you know me, I’m a big damsel-in-stress kinda guy-” Kiara rolls her eyes and brings you inside, and he’s left standing there with pink-tinged ears.

He doesn’t tell them about how you were looking around for someone, anyone to help, how scared you look when he touched you, how your face visibly eased when you locked eyes with JJ, how you held a bag of frozen peas to his black eye and kissed his cheek before going back to find everyone earlier. He decides to keep that for himself.

You don’t keep an eye out for your surroundings when you tag along on their adventures either. That’s pretty much John B’s responsibility now, walking towards the back with you. You often start looking around, head in the clouds, staring at the trees and sky and walking right into a pile of mud or a puddle.

“Wow, the air is so clean out here,” you comment while taking a deep breath. It’s said quiet enough that only he can hear you.

“Yeah, pretty girl, that’s because of all the trees.” You laugh and shove his arm, because duh, but you can’t respond because the others are yelling for you two to catch up.

He doesn’t let you lead—you’ve cried over too many ruined shoes for him to risk it anymore—instead he holds onto your hand firmly, gripping tight when he needs you to slow down and pulling gently when it’s okay to proceed. It’s his job to make sure all the bugs are out of the way, that you’re not walking into a spiderweb or running after a butterfly or pretty bird. The others tease you two and laugh, but you still thank him with a tight hug, the thin material of your sports bra not really hiding much, murmuring something about no signs of mud on your new sneakers.

“Yeah, anytime,” he breathes after you’ve already walked away. You turn back to smile at him, adjusting your ridden-up tennis skirt you’d sported today. “Wouldn’t wanna dirty those shoes.”

You make Pope feel like the smartest guy in the world sometimes, without even trying. It’s not like you’re stupid, because he knows you’re not, but when you bite your cheek and tap his shoulder to ask him another question about whatever you were working on, your words start going to his head.

“So if I wanna save this and put them all together, I just use this program? And I just use the mouse?” you say thoughtfully, repeating his instructions back to him.

“Yes, sweetheart,” and he tries his best to make sure he sounds patient—he’s learned from experience you don’t react well if you even suspect he’s getting frustrated.

Pope watches you play with the thin straps of your shirt before the string idly falls off your shoulder, exposing a swath of soft, sweet-smelling skin to him. Staring at your bare shoulder, he thinks he could never get frustrated at you even if he tried his hardest. When you finish making your little vision-board on photoshop, you turn to show him proudly, and he is proud, with how well you followed his instructions and weren’t too shy to keep asking for his help. Later that night at the Chateau, you lean against his shoulder with his arm swung around you on the couch and explain what each of the images mean until you fall asleep.

They’re all playing a game of chicken—wondering which one will be the first to cross that line and suggest something more than just friendship to you. Through empty cases of beer and boys-only fishing trips they’ve briefly discussed to each other that they’re interested, but of respect—to each other, not really to you—they haven’t made the first move just yet. No matter how difficult you make it.

At the beach you help the boys wax their surfboards, taking turns with each one, floating around a little tipsy already from your fruity drink. They’re all talking, but you don’t really pay attention, eyes staring at something in the distance.

JJ covers his mouth, imitating a walkie noise.

“Hello, uh, earth to princess, over.”

You turn back to him and his board, dropping the chunk of wax and leaning in. He blanks for a second—your pretty face getting closer, an eyeful of your tits in the tiny bikini you’re wearing today making his head spin. And you’re infront of everyone, which is definitely not how he’d thought he would win this little competition.

“Do you see that pretty girl over there? Three o’clock?”

“I see a pretty girl right in front of me,” he says, and you laugh, pushing his shoulder. He doesn’t realize that you think he’s just joking.

“Jayj, seriously. See her?” He nods, but still doesn’t turn to look. “She’s been staring at you for, like, ten minutes. You should go over there!”

You’re smiling big, like the idea of another girl talking to him sounds fun. He pulls back from you, confused.

“I need another beer.” He stalks off, walking to the boys while you turn to Kiara.

“What did I do wrong? I’m trying to get him laid-” Kiara rolls her eyes. You turn and see the boys in deep conversation, occasionally glancing back at you and Kie.

“She just told me to go flirt with some girl, like, right in front of her. I mean is this some kind of test?” He takes a long chug of the beer, sounding about as stressed as Pope and John B have ever seen. “Do I fail if I hook up with some rando? Or do I fail if I don’t hook up? It’s Schindler’s cat, man-”

“That’s not-” Pope starts, before being cut off.

“Sorry, sorry. Schrodinger’s kids.”

“No, JJ-”

“What the hell does she mean? So she wants us to hook up with other people?” John B cuts in, looking back at you, but something else on the beach seems to have caught your attention.

“Woah, I’m not doing that, but you two are more than welcome-”

“Yeah, nice try, Pope. We get with some girl so you can tell her you stayed loyal and win her over? I don’t think so, genius-”

“Well, you’re the one she’s trying to set up so I think I’m pretty safe right now-”

“It’s not a reality show Pope, you can’t eliminate me.”

“Guys,” John B speaks up.

“If this was a show, I’d clearly be the fan favorite and the winner-”

“Uh, says who? I would so win, let’s do a poll right now and survey this beach-”

“Guys.” Louder this time, they listen to John. He doesn’t say anything, just stares into the distance and soon they join him, to see what he’s looking at.

“Y’gotta be fucking kidding me,” JJ says, watching you run into Rafe’s arms, swinging around before giving him a kiss. Rafe pulls away and looks straight at the three of them, while giving them a wave.

#i am a proud supporter of reader x all three pogue boys <3 #obx #john b routledge #jj maybank #pope heyward #rafe cameron

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roseyodditea · 8 months ago

Text

Just Fix It - Wriothesley x gn! Reader

Summary -> 1.2k words. Your repair work is interrupted and then ruined by The Duke himself.

Warnings -> Swearing, Minor injuries.

A/N -> I love the idea of being a mechanic in Meropide. lmk if it's actually interesting to anyone that isn't me and I can write more. I'm just testing the waters with this one lmao

**********

For the first time in a long time, the halls of the Fortress of Meropide were quiet. The consistent and loud clanging of heavy machinery was absent, much to the pleasure of a lot of the prisoners. However, prisoners that were close to the elevator could hear the shouting of the scariest man under the water and the most stubborn person to probably ever exist. The shouts of The Duke and you, the head mechanic of the Fortress.

“Get down from there!” Wriothesley shouted at the top of one of the large presses in the production zone where you stood, 10 feet in the air. His tone was half amused and half frustrated.

“You aren’t my boss! I don’t take orders from you!” You chuckled, standing in triumph on top of the machinery, holding nothing but an angle grinder. “I am literally your boss!” You let out a scoff. “I am an employee of the Fontaine Research Institute of Kinetic Energy Engineering. I am on loan to you, bitch.” A few of the newer prisoners looked away in fear as you insulted The Duke, not understanding the dynamic between the two of you.

“How much longer do you have on the repairs?” He rolls his eyes, trying not to laugh in front of others.

You scoff and return to cutting off some of the warped metal of the old press. “Not too much longer. I’m just cleaning up some metal that’s causing some of that god-awful screeching. I could fix it faster if you stopped distracting me.”

“Just hurry up and fix it. You’re wasting my precious time.” “What, you planning on dying soon, old man?” You snort to yourself and duck as a wrench is thrown dangerously close to your head, the guards and prisoners in the production zone moving to quickly leave now that metal was being thrown around. You put down the angle grinder and stand up, looking down at Wriothesley. “Say that again.” He looks at you with that cocky smirk you’ve grown to love and picks up a hammer from the toolbox you left on the ground.

“Careful there. That’s heavy, you might throw out your back trying to toss that all the way up here.” You taunt and hold your arms out wide, making yourself a bigger target.

Wriothesley was throwing the hammer when the high-pitched sound of someone clearing their throat caused your blood to run cold. “Need I remind you both of the strict safety procedures we have in place?” Sigewinne’s voice immediately caused you to panic, looking away from Wriothesley, not realizing the hammer had already left his hand. You were about to say something when the hammer flew towards you. Panic ran through your body as instinct took over, dodging backwards, but losing your footing and falling off of the top of the machinery. Before you fully realized you were falling a ramp of ice emerged and broke your fall, but causing you to catch your wrist as the transition from ice to metal flooring caused you to roll. You didn’t even try to get up, a throbbing sensation in your wrist overpowering you. Two sets of footsteps approached you quickly. Sigewinne grabbed the wrist you landed on and furrowed her eyebrows, your body relaxing now that you knew you were in good hands.

“It’s just a sprain. It should heal just fine in a month” Sigewinne went to grab one of the first aid kits always kept in the production zone. She took out some wraps to help stabilize your wrist when Wriothesley grabbed it from her.

“I’ll take care of it. It’s my fault they got injured in the first place.” He nodded at Sigewinne and she took that as an order to leave the both of you alone. He took your wrist in his hand and began to gently wrap it. “I’m sorry. That was stupid of me.”

You tried to ignore the pain in your wrist and chuckled. “Yeah, it kinda was.” You watch his hands move around yours shockingly delicately, his brows furrowed in concentration as he looks down at your hand. “It’s really not a big deal. This isn’t the worst sprain I’ve gotten from climbing on equipment like that. I should have expected it.” Wriothesley shakes his head. “Stop that. This is serious. I hurt you and now you can’t work.” “Oh come on. You have plenty of other mechanics at your beck and call that will come to fix this and do it safer than I would.” You were met with silence, Wriothesley still focused on your wrist, refusing to look up into your eyes. “Unless you have a personal attachment to this one?”

“How bad does it hurt?” He tried to push down the lump he found stuck in his throat, but it still made his voice crackle in a way you hadn’t heard before. “Oh my god, you do have an emotional attachment.” You move your wrist closer to your body. Wriothesley doesn’t seem to notice and moves closer. “Just tell me how bad it hurts. I can get you some medicine from the infirmary, or I can-” “Oh shut up.” You pull him even closer, but this time he notices. Neither of you make any move to back away from each other. “I’m not worried about my wrist anymore. Something more interesting came up.” Wriothesley finishes wrapping your wrist, the support lessening your pain. He wraps his fingers around your wrist and you feel a chill creeping up your arm, his cryo vision glowing subtly as he tries to soothe the inevitable swelling. “I find your company enjoyable. You bring a sense of fun and light I never could afford to have in my life until recently. And the fact that you’re willing to consistently make the trip down here to this damp metal prison means a lot.” He sighs and shakes his head. “And for some stupid reason, I got wrapped up in the moment and threw a hammer at you when you were already in a precarious situation without any sort of safety harness on.” He fully sat down instead of just awkwardly crouching over you.

“And who’s fault is it I wasn’t wearing a safety harness?” “Mine. I’m your boss and I’ve been letting you get away with not wearing one for far too long.”

You let out an exaggerated groan. “You’re not technically my boss. You don’t even sign my paychecks.” “Can’t you let me have anything?” He lets a playful smirk grace his face, the chill making you forget all about your pain. “You’re one of the few people I trust with half the old equipment in this prison. What am I going to do for the next month while you’re healing?”

You moved to rest your head on his shoulder. “You know I’d make a good supervisor.” You wiggle your wrist out of his grip and slide your arm to hold his hand, not minding they were still ice cold.

“For me or other mechanics?” He asked with a hopeful tone in his voice, leaning in slightly.

“I think you know that answer.” You lean in the rest of the way, placing a quick and gentle kiss on his lips.

“Hmm. I‘ve never heard of that supervision strategy.” “You’re a fucking idiot”

**********

#wriothesley fluff #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x you #wriothesley #oneshot #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x reader #i love him so much

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jscrawls · 18 days ago

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Widows rest

My take on a Black widow! Reader x Batman and Batfam but with a slight twist, reader doesn't know the Bats but they seem to know them...

Warning: contains avengers infinity war spoilers, black widow spoilers, mentions of death, hospitals, poor writing, possible ooc,

Pt 1: New year new me, wait what?

Waking up wasn't in your cards, staring at the ceiling of a hospital room with nothing but the rhythmic beeping of machinery to welcome you to the realm of the living wasn't what you expected at all. Did you fail your mission? Did Barton and Natalia bring you back and somehow save you? Your joints ache badly, but it's nothing like what it should be, even your advanced healing can't fix a shattered skeleton.

You push yourself upright, it's surprisingly difficult and you have to take a break before pulling yourself up all the way, nausea hits you like a train and you have to take slow deep breaths so you don't puke. What meds did they have you on? Looking over yourself you take stock of everything, you're pallid and skinny, like you've been here a while. medical coma possibly?

Your head feels like it's stuffed with cotton and helium, There's multiple machines attached to you in some way, Just how bad was it if you felt yourself literally die. The room is clean, smells clean too. It's just full of medical equipment, no other beds in the room so…not the med bay? There's no windows either so you can't see what time of day it is, where did they put you? Possibly in doctor cho’s care? You see English writing on the heart rate monitor beside you so maybe not in her Korean facility…before you can start ripping tubes out of yourself the door opens, a young woman walking in with a cart behind her and her focus entirely on her phone. She shoves it in her scrubs pocket and idly glances towards you while reaching towards some cloths on the cart, she freezes like a deer staring down a semi. you try to speak but she suddenly darts out of the room while yelling for a doctor.

“stay here mx Wayne! Doctor! I need a doctor in here!” her sneakers squeak loudly on the linoleum as she leaves.

Who the hell was Wayne?

🔹🔹🔹

‘*this entire board meeting is complete and utter horseshit.’* Bruce thinks to himself as he smiles tightly at his chairmen, several investors are sitting around and complaining about their lives even though the meeting isn't even over yet, and there's still policies to discuss, yet they're acting like just because they're invited guests they run the show.

It's been chaos ever since the incident, his stocks have gone up somehow, the public's reaction to this whole mess. his shareholders love it, they're like greedy sharks smelling blood, thinking he's too frazzled to know when they're trying to make moves behind his back to line their pockets. They're even throwing dates at him, as if his spouse isn't still alive. He'd nearly broken his code when Mr Smith told him to ‘line one up for when he has needs’ like he's a goddamn animal. As it stands he's been avoiding as many in person meetings as possible so he can avoid murder and jail time,

Tim keeps giving him looks for the last twenty minutes, subtly signaling to relax, smile, play dumb. He must be losing his edge if he can't even keep his poker face straight. His temple throbs as Mr Johnson opens his mouth again, If he has to hear *one* more complaint about their healthcare policies costing the company too much he's gonna -

His phone buzzes in his pocket, this time of day it's probably work related so he ignores it and starts aggressively drinking his iced coffee, he's half tempted to ‘accidentally’ spill it on Mr Smith beside him and ruin his beige suit mid speech about what is and isn't necessary to provide your employees, he's about to ignore Tim's warning look when his phone buzzes again, this time it's Alfred's notification pattern. Tim subtly shifts so he knows he got one too, Bruce fishes his phone out under the table and briefly glances at the notification tab, reads it twice, before promptly standing up and walking out without saying a word to anyone, Tim scrambling to cut the meeting short and follow him.

🔹🔹🔹

A/n: has anyone wandered how much work Bruce does at Wayne enterprises? What does he actually do there?? 😅

Taglist: @cxcilla

#batman x reader #dc x y/n #bruce wayne x reader #batfamily x reader #batman fanfiction #batfam x reader #bruce wayne x y/n #black widow reader

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azmageddon · 1 month ago

Text

Silence (Part Three)

Pairing: Azriel x Cassian’s twin!healer! reader

Summary: After Amarantha wounds you in the worst way for an Illyrian, the silence of your mate on the other side of the bond stirs memories of how your relationship began.

Warnings: Brief mentions of blood and wounds. Azriel being an ass in this one. One swear word (I think?) . Also painfully inaccurate to the original storyline.

A/n: Personal life took over, honestly. But I am so insanely excited for this one. I wanted something that would create somewhat of a background story for reader and Azriel's relationship and to kickstart the beginning of UTM. Let me know what you think! Always open to requests on how this series should go, so if you have any suggestions let me know! I'd love to hear them!

***

There was a pull. A gentle one at first, but still, a slight tug at the center of your chest. It seemed to beckon you toward the house.

The feeling was fleeting as the sharp sting of a wooden sword struck the side of your leg.

“Come on, Y/N! You stink at this!” came the voice of your twin brother through the momentary fog. You shook your head to clear it and turned back to him as quickly as your ten year old body would let you.

“Ow, Cassian!” you whined. “That’s not fair!”

You lifted your own toy sword to strike back, but the pull in your chest came again; so sharply this time that you actually stumbled forward. Embarrassingly for you, Cassian had seen it and let out a laugh at your clumsiness.

“What’s wrong with you, Y/N? You’re being weird today. I don’t want to play with you if you’re not going to play right.”

With a mighty leap, you pushed your wings out, catching a few inches of air and effectively pummeling your brother. The two of you rolled around in the dirt and leaves, throwing fake punches at one another and ruining your clean clothes. After a few minutes of play fighting, the two of you sprang apart.

“Ow! You made me cut my hand!” Cassian moaned, turning his palm to face you as a fresh trickle of red blood dripped to the ground. “Fix it!”

You rolled your eyes at your brother and stuck your tongue out at him. “Make me!” With that, you tore into the forest, Cassian fast on your heels.

Quickly approaching the edge of the trees, you risked a peek over your shoulder to see that Cassian was quick and gaining on you. Before you had the chance to turn back around and sprint even quicker, you ran directly into the path of something hard.

You practically bounced off the hard object, hitting the ground with a pile of dust coating you. When you looked up to see what you had run into, you could only stare in horror at the Lord of Windhaven.

“L-Lord Devlon,” you stuttered, shaking where you cowered at his feet. “I’m sorry…I…Cassian was chasing me and I…I didn’t mean to…”

With a large hand, Devlon gripped you by the hair and pulled you to your feet. You let out a soft wince at the pain, knowing better than to cry out. It wasn’t long until Cassian was at your side again.

“Lord Devlon, I’m so sorry, my sister is so clumsy she didn’t-“

But the Lord of Windhaven lifted a hand to Cassian to silence him. With an audible gulp, your twin took a small step back.

“I didn’t see you at training this morning,” Devlon sneered at your brother, his unnatural calm causing goosebumps to prickle along your arms. It was either from that, or the firm grip he kept on the roots of your hair. You didn’t dare squirm, knowing there would be hell to pay if you did.

Redness crept up Cassian’s face at the confrontation. He was so excited to show you everything he’d learned over the last few weeks that you’d both lost track of time and caused him to miss his training schedule.

“Children!” came the soft voice of Rhysand’s mother. She emerged from the shadow of the trees and immediately at the sound of her approaching, Devlon resealed his grip on you. The Lord of Windhaven never took an order from anyone, let alone a female. But even Devlon wasn’t stupid enough to argue with the mate of the High Lord.

“Come meet our new friend,” she continued, gently grasping your hand and pulling you away from the male. Having provided you with shelter when Cassian and you were homeless, she had become something of your own mother. With a quick glared warning at the male, she pulled you and your twin away.

“I’ll see you at training tomorrow, boy,” Devlon called after the three of you, and you felt Cassian shiver in fear at the promise of a torturous session the following day.

When you were finally out of earshot, Rhysand’s mother rounded on the two of you. “Children! You know better than to provoke Lord Devlon. And Cassian, to miss training? I’m very disappointed in you.”

Cassian’s ears reddened in embarrassment, but you were barely listening. The tug in your chest was growing stronger with each step closer to home. You took your free hand, the one that wasn't gripped in the hand of Rhysand’s mother, and rubbed at the center of your chest. The tugging sensation didn’t subside.

Finally, as the trees cleared and your adopted home came into view, you could see Rhysand bouncing excitedly alongside another child relatively the same age.

“Children, this is our new friend.” Rhysand’s mother released you and took a few steps toward the boy whose back was turned to you. “Azriel, dear, won’t you come say hello?”

Azriel turned slowly, hazel eyes downcast and hands clamped tightly behind his back. You noticed small tendrils of smoke floating around his tightly drawn wings.

“I'll leave you four to get acquainted.” Rhysand’s mother took a few steps up toward the house, patting her biological son on the top of his head before turning to you. “Dinner prep in ten minutes, Y/N.”

You nodded, understanding your role as an Illyrian female was to cater to the males, no matter their age.

“Hello,” you whispered to the new boy named Azriel. At the sound of your voice, his eyes snapped to yours. The moment they met, the tug in your chest exploded. You imagined a thread, golden and long, reaching out from the center of your chest toward him.

Before you had the chance to say anything, Rhys began chattering away. “Azriel says he’s never flown before. Can you believe it? An illyrian that’s never flown! I can't wait to show you!” As his childish prattle continued and Azriel’s gaze returned to the ground, you leaned into your twin.

“Cassian,” you whispered, only for him to hear. “I think Azriel will be my mate one day.”

***

You groaned as pain shot down your back. For a brief moment, you opened your eyes. You were laying on your stomach in a bed that wasn’t your own in a room that you didn't recognize. You had just been dreaming, something about the first time you had met Azriel. But before you could reach out toward his side of the bed, you fell back into unconsciousness.

***

“I will come back to you, I promise.” Azriel tightened his arms around you as your silent tears stained his leathers. You shook your head against his chest, refusing to loosen your grip on him.

“You could be killed, Az,” you choked through your tears. “Isn’t there any other way?” You knew that this was a fate you couldn’t change, the Blood Rite being a tradition for centuries, maybe even millennia. There was no changing tradition.

Azriel pried you from himself, pulling your fingers off of his leathers and holding you at arms length. He had to crouch down to be on your level, him being nearly an entire head taller than you. Lacing his fingers through your hair and using his other hand to tilt your chin up, he forced you to make eye contact.

“Listen to me, Y/N,” he began, his hazel eyes practically begging for you to listen. “I will not die out there. Rhys, Cassian, and I will come home. I will come home to you.”

You hiccuped a sob and nodded your head, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling yourself closer. Dropping your foreheads together, you closed your eyes and took a shaking breath. For years you had kept your secret from Azriel. You’re not sure why you wouldn’t tell him that you knew he was your mate. Maybe it was fear of rejection or just bad timing, but you swore to yourself that if he returned from the Blood Rite you would finally share your secret with him.

“I want to…” he whispered, but cut himself off.

You opened your eyes and saw his hazel ones were on you, darting back and forth between your lips and your own eyes.

“I’ve never…” you started but stopped as well, embarrassed to admit you’ve never slept with another person before. To you, there was only Azriel, only your mate, and it was never something you ever gave a second thought to.

But Azriel smirked, dropping his gaze and looking slightly sheepish. “Neither have I,” he whispered back.

Before long, the two of you were tangled in each other’s arms, sheets thrown aside and gasped moans as you frantically fumbled for each other.

When you awoke the next morning, Azriel was gone, as well as every other male Illyrian warrior set to partake in the Blood Rite that week.

***

“Azriel,” you groaned, attempting to shift from your facedown position on the unfamiliar bed beneath you.

“Take it easy, Y/N, you’ve lost a lot of blood.” The voice was familiar, deep, and you cracked an eye open when you felt the cool feeling of a damp cloth slide across your brow.

Except it wasn’t Azriel that wiped at your head. Rhysand kneeled eyelevel at the side of the bed. You could see the multitude of emotions swimming behind his eyes: regret, pain, anxiety, and sadness.

You tried to shift again, but agonizing pain shot down your back. You stifled a scream by practically shoving your face into the pillow. You felt the cool hands of your High Lord tracing shapes across the burning muscles of your back, and the pain slowly ebbed away.

“What happened?”

Rhysand didn’t respond at first. You could tell he was avoiding your gaze and kept his eyes downcast. Cautiously, you craned your head over your shoulder to see what could be causing the burning pain that you felt.

Nausea rolled through your stomach and you felt your vision darkening along the edges at the sight. What was there, or worse, what wasn't there, had you swallowing your bile and jumpstarting your breathing.

“Oh gods,” you croaked, and felt your vision and consciousness failing you again. Right where your once strong and beautiful wings stood were mere gaping holes of blood and raw skin. All traces of what made you Illyrian were gone.

***

You pushed through the crowd, searching frantically for the one male you longed to see. A week away from him was entirely too long; not knowing if he was dead or alive had made the time away even more difficult.

Pushing through unwashed Illyrian bodies, you eyed every one you passed. Having just returned from the Blood Rite, the throng of people was thicker than ever. Some warriors were triumphant, slapping each other on the back and loudly sharing their stories of revenge and kills. Some were injured, quickly being carried away to the healing tent - a place where you knew you were supposed to be at this very moment to await their return. You couldn’t help yourself, though. All week you had imagined this moment: telling Azriel your secret and reuniting in a world of bliss, happiness, and happily ever after.

After a few minutes, you spotted three familiar faces. You signed a breath of relief. A quick scan of the three showed minor scrapes and bruising, but no life-threatening injuries.

“Azriel! Cassian! Rhys!” you called from across the sea of people. Knowing their fae hearing would pick up your call, three pairs of eyes shot in your direction. But there was only one pair of hazel that you immediately locked on to. Setting into a run, you flung your arms around your mate, the sheer force of your body forcing him to stumble a step back.

“What, no hugs for your own flesh and blood?” Cassian grumbled from behind you.

You ignored him, nuzzling your face into Azriel’s chest, reveling in the familiar scent that washed over you. Albeit, a bit stale and dirty, but still familiar all the same.

“Az, I was so worried about you,” you breathed into his skin.

Instead of responding, Azriel just cleared his throat and peeled you off of him, this time settling you a few feet away and taking a step back.

“Right,” he responded, avoiding your gaze.

The joy you had felt at seeing him return safely fizzled in your chest and went out, replaced now by anxiety and confusion. A quick glance at Rhys and Cassian showed the two males were equally confused. However, Azriel offered no further explanation.

A crushing squeeze from your twin and a soft hug from Rhysand later, you ushered the two home to bathe, rest, and eat for the remainder of the day.

“I’ve left plenty of food in the kitchen,” you called to them as they turned to leave. “Just leave some for your brother, too!” The two waved over their shoulders as they set off toward home, indicating they had heard you but giving no promises that there would be anything left for the third male in their trio.

You turned back to Azriel, who stood in the same spot, still avoiding eye contact at all cost.

“Az,” you began, taking a step toward him and reaching out your hand to grasp his. He flinched at the movement and looked around wildly, almost as if he was hoping no one had seen your attempt to touch him. He quickly pulled away and folded his hands behind his back and out of your reach. You dropped your arm and felt the pang of rejection shoot through you. “Are you okay?” you asked.

“We need to talk,” he muttered but said no more.

“Yes,” you agreed, your voice now quiet and small. “We do need to talk.”

You waited a few moments where the two of you stood there in silence, neither one willing to begin the conversation. You wondered if he knew, if Cassian had told him that you were his mate. Cassian was, afterall, the only one who knew your secret, and you couldn’t imagine what a week of surviving in the wilderness brought out of people.

As you opened your mouth to confess your secret, Azriel opened his, too. For a heartbeat you both stood there, mouths open, poised to speak your truths.

You quickly closed yours and motioned a hand to him. “You go first,” you said, secretly grateful you had a few more moments to regroup your thoughts.

“I can’t give you what you want,” Azriel admitted, finally locking his gaze with yours. When you didn’t respond, he seemed to gain his confidence and continued his explanation. “I know what you want from me, and I can’t give it to you. I spent the entire week out there thinking about you and begging the Mother to bring me back to you. But the Blood Rite changes people, Y/N. Cassian, Rhys, and I - we made it to the top. We reached the summit and touched the monolith first.” He paused, brushing a hand through his hair before running it down his face and letting out a huff of frustration as he attempted to explain how he felt.

“I have a role to play in this camp. In this army. I can prove myself here, and I can’t focus on that if you’re…” he hesitated, seemingly trying to find the words that expressed exactly what he was trying to say.

But you didn’t need him to finish. You understood loud and clear what he was trying to say. He didn’t know the truth of the mating bond. Cassian had stayed true to his promise to keep it a secret until you were ready to reveal it to your mate. What Azriel was admitting to you was worse. Much worse than you ever could have expected.

“You’re breaking up with me?” you asked, holding back the tears that threatened to spill over.

“Am I, though?” he said, one eyebrow shooting up in question. “I mean, we’ve always been friends and you were a good fuck, but I’d hardly say we were together.”

His words sliced through you worse than any blade could ever have done. You took an involuntary step back. You pushed the tears down completely, resolving not to cry in front of him and humiliate yourself even further.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, but this is how I feel. I have the opportunity to make something of myself for the first time in my life. I can’t risk losing that.”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. It was your turn to avoid eye contact and you looked anywhere but at the face of your oblivious, beautiful, cruel mate.

He sighed and reached a hand out to you. The mountains and valleys of his skin intertwined with your own fingers. He gave your hand a tight squeeze in an attempt to relay his apology.

“What were you going to tell me?” he asked. You could tell he was finished with the conversation, wanting nothing more than to escape your presence.

You shoved the mating bond aside, vowing to yourself never to open it again. You didn’t know if you could stand another second of Azirel’s emotions rushing into your soul unbeknownst to him. Pulling your hand out of his, you took a step back, hardening your heart to the man you had come to love more than you ever thought possible.

“I’ve had a job offer as a personal healer to Rhysand’s father,” you said. “He offered me a place in his court. I’ve accepted the offer.” It was a lie. You did have a job offer from the High Lord, but you had planned to reject it in lieu of the mating bond. But as that future seemed to be a distant hope now, you knew that staying in Windhaven was no longer an option. You intended to write to the High Lord tonight and travel to Velaris in the morning for your new post.

Azriel smiled, a tight incline of his lips that never reached his eyes. “That’s great, Y/N. I’m so happy for you.”

“Right,” you said, repeating his words back to him.

***

Rhysand was cleaning your wounds as best he could with the limited supplies he had, which was virtually nothing. A few buckets of clean water and strips of his undershirt he had torn apart to dress your back.

“How did you heal me?” you asked. Rhys had magnificent healing powers, ones that practically rivaled your own. But you knew, from the moment that Amarantha’s wine touched your lips, you had both been rendered magic-less.

“I made a deal with her,” he responded, pressing the clean rags into your back and mopping up the blood that had freshly oozed from them. He took a moment to roll up his sleeve and show you the fresh swirling tattoo that encircled the entirety of his left wrist. “In return, she gave me a fraction of my powers. Just enough to ensure you wouldn’t die.”

You reached your arm out to touch your fingertips to his new tattoo when you hesitated. Glancing at your own extended wrist, you saw that you bore twin markings.

“What was the bargain?” you asked, dread flooding your body now that you had discovered that somehow, you were involved.

But he shook his head, tucking your arm back in the blankets and pushing his sleeve back down. “Not now. I don’t want to talk about it now.”

Finishing his work on your back, you felt the mattress dip as he sat beside you. “Are you going to tell me about Azriel?”

Grief flooded you. You reached out across the bond and tugged as hard as you could, harder than you ever had before. But once again, that golden thread led into nothing but darkness and silence.

And so, you told Rhysand everything.

Words and tears came pouring out of you. You told Rhys about the day you met Azriel, how you had felt the mating bond snap at ten years old. You told him about losing your virginity and the heartbreak that led to your employment in Velaris. You told him the story of how Azriel had found out about the mating bond, when it had snapped for him, and the betrayal he felt of being left in the dark. You talked about your private mating ceremony, the frenzy, and the years the two of you snuck around, vowing to each other never to reveal your secret.

When you finished, Rhysand contemplated your story. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

You sighed, knowing this part of the conversation was unavoidable. “Cassian knew,” you offered, knowing it would add nothing to your explanation.

“Why not tell me? Or Mor? To keep it a secret even from us; that seems extreme and honestly, a little hurtful. Two of my best friends have been sneaking around behind my back and the third had known all along. It’s hard to be the last one finding out.”

“I’m sorry, Rhys.” you shifted in the bed, uncomfortable from laying on your belly for so long. You reached a hand out to his, lacing your fingers together and staring at the twin tattoos that bound you together. “Azriel has a lot of enemies. Being a Spymaster comes with a lot of risk. We both knew that if the world had found out about us, my life would have been in danger. We thought we were doing what was best by keeping it a secret. Azriel said he would never be able to sleep at night, or go away on assignments, knowing I was at risk.”

Rhysand nodded, squeezing his fingers tightly around yours. “I understand now. I’m sorry you felt like you had to keep it a secret. I’m the one that puts Azriel on dangerous missions. I’m the one that asks him to… take care of the prisoners. I never thought these things would be such a hindrance in his life.”

“No, Rhys,” you assured him. “Az would do anything for you. He loves you. If anything, our secret was proof of his undying loyalty to you and your court.”

The two of you sat in silence together, grateful that if you had to be stuck as a prisoner to Amarantha and her sick, twisted, fate, you were at least stuck together.

“I promise,” Rhys began, “I will return you to Velaris. I will return you to your mate, no matter what it takes.”

***

Taglist:

@a-new-romantic @tiredsleepyhead @olive-main @saltedcoffeescotch @lunajay33 @st4r-girl-official @lilah-asteria

#azriel #azriel angst #azriel fluff #azriel shadowsinger #azriel smut #azriel x reader #acotar #azriel acotar #azriel spymaster #pro azriel

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pricesprincess · 3 months ago

Note

Just read your jealous sex with Simon fic and lovedddd it. If possible could we get exes to lovers (again) sex with Soap ? Maybe they show up at a mutual friend’s wedding and there are unrequited feelings so they wanna talk it out but don’t want any one to see them and then oops, we were just hiding in this closet, but then the close proximity get us too turned on not to fuck…? ❤️

smut mdni | fat fem reader | oc! characters | this ended up being 2k | thank you so much! i'm glad you enjoyed it and i love this idea so much please kjnbrtr

requests are open

a warm breeze floated by bringing forth the scent of the heavily scented floral arrangement by the front doors of the barn where your best friend and one of soap's best friends were getting married.

it was ironic because a wedding wasn't something you were interested in with johnny because the not knowing would kill you, the no phone calls and anytime there's a knock at the door you cringe.

even though he wanted to make you his wife. little did you know he was telling people you're his ol lady when you weren't around.

the double doors were wheeled wide open to let the sunshine through the old woods highlighting the dust that was kicked up by people moving about, it was an hour before the actual wedding.

while everyone was running around you stood near becca as she ordered the people around which got colin and soap's attention, his eyes were trained on you though as he followed the flow of your dress, it wasn't even your bridesmaid one either.

to him, you were the most beautiful woman so you didn't need a fancy dress to impress him or make him swoon harder for you.

your stomach twisted in knots, making it hard to concentrate on what becca was saying when you could still feel johnny's gaze bore into the side of your head as you tried to help your friend out.

since you showed up at the venue three hours ago you've been ignoring soap the best you could to avoid those pesky feelings that threatened to choke you.

"sorry, i didn't even think about soap with all the planning." becca murmured when she noticed your attention elsewhere.

you shrugged your shoulders and turned your back to him still able to feel his eyes now on your ass that only made his pants tight, since the breakup johnny hasn't been able to be with anyone since then.

just the thought alone of touching another woman that wasn't you felt like cheating even though your stuff was moved out of his apartment a while ago. becca has been your best friend since elementary and when you introduced johnny to colin they clicked.

your eyes strayed off again to johnny hating the way you found yourself wanting to fix his hair, it was obvious he went back to the three-in-one shampoo and conditioner and body wash because he forgot the brand you used to buy him to make his hair silky.

there was still things you wanted to tell johnny and work through them but you didn't want anyone to see you both talking because that would only start rumors you didn't want spreading about.

trying to distract yourself you went outside and helped with the florists finish up the arrangements that gave you a headache, the scent was too strong but it was better than drooling over johnny.

you did everything you could to avoid any conversation with him and to make the time fly by so you could collapse on the hotel bed you got for the next several evenings, there was a lot of planning so you decided to make it a bit of a vacation as well.

colin approached you an hour before the wedding started stopping you from entering becca's room to help her with the dress. "soap is a mess." he murmured in a hushed tone as you rolled your eyes.

"then he can clean himself up i'm sure, after all, his name is soap."

it was becca and colin's day which you didn't want to ruin but johnny having his friend try to get to you only made your skin prickle with a deep irritation that set your soul aflame. "oh, becca!" you cried.

all the feelings you had were instantly swept under the rug the moment you saw her standing in the white dress she picked out months prior and albeit you've seen it already she still took your breath away then pesky thoughts of you in a dress popped up.

pushing away the mental images of johnny seeing you for the first time and how he would start bawling on the spot made your throat tighten. "you can't cry or you'll make me cry!" becca laughed as she hugged you tightly before pulling away holding your shoulders.

crystal tears glittered in the corner of your eyes as you looked at her, thinking of all the conversations you had growing up about this day.

"if you let that stuff go you and johnny could be as happy as colin and me." she reminded you before letting go once the music started.

her words played over and over in your head like a broken record as you and johnny met up at the end of the aisle, no doubt done by becca's mom who is trying herself to get you both back together.

over all the years she's known you, she has never seen you happy like when you're with johnny, it was clear the man made you happy but you let fear and anxiety ruin the relationship and future.

"ya look stunning sweetheart." johnny whispered before you both parted and stood on your respective sides, his eyes still focused on you with a small smile knowing his compliment made you warm.

ignoring him you watched with a teary gaze as becca and colin exchanged vows, promising one another to be there until the end of time causing a lump to grow in your throat as you glanced at soap.

his eyes pierced your soul everything faded away like glitter being blown away and it was you and him getting married instead then awful images of that dreaded home visit made you look away.

it was a fear that you couldn't quite get out of your head, losing johnny would mean your certain death as well, loving him too much and too hard was something you never regretted though.

the moment they kissed and made their way down the aisle you waited for everyone to go first before falling into line with johnny. "can we talk?" he asked using that puppy dog look that made you weak, for a grown man to do something get it down made you laugh.

you looked around watching as everyone made their way to the other barn across the way for the dancing and afterparty. "for a moment."

guiding johnny to the first door you found which was a dark closet for cleaning supplies, the smell of it made you scrunch your nose as he moved closer to you once the doors were shut. "i miss you angel."

the nickname soap used for you never failed to make your stomach break into a million butterflies that flapped against each other making a home in your belly. "i know, i read all the emails soap."

over the last three months, he sent you one each day, asking about you before detailing his day, even down to the time he saw a chubby baby and played peek-a-boo with her. "you do?" that was a shock.

"why wouldn't i? i..." you couldn't force those three words out, the letters tangling together like a ball of yarn in your throat.

being so close to him in such a tight space made your heart flutter and your skin break out in goosebumps along with a heat that made you uncomfortable as you shifted your weight between your feet.

johnny stepped forward, his heady scent wafted around you like a warm blanket from the dryer as you looked at him feeling your jaw go slack when his breath mingled with yours. "you what?" he hummed.

there was nowhere for you to go or to lean back against so you stayed rooted in your spot and played with his tie, he was going to make you say it. "you what?" soap pushed again with a louder tone.

"don't be so loud!" you murmured and slapped your palm over his mouth with a huff as you pulled away with an eye roll.

telling johnny how you still loved him more than anything would fix a lot in your life but also it felt like it would only cause more heartbreak. "i love you johnny, damn you and those eyes of yours and the way you hold me and you know when i'm having a rough day with a look."

those words being spilled was like the thread that sewed his broken heart back together. johnny grasped your jaw in one hand no problem to pull you forward and meet his lips in a heated kiss.

it was a teeth-clanking and tongue-tangling makeout session as his hands roamed your body down and over your curves, so he could grope your ass, like two lost lovers you unbuttoned his shirt to feel his chest and stomach groaning at how the muscles contracted.

johhny's hands gripped your dress bunching it up around your thick hips so he could slide his hand in your panties to rub the wet part with a dark chuckle. "no one can make my girl feel so good."

you watched as he dropped to his knees to nuzzle his face between your now spread thighs, his mouth leaving head dizzying kisses along the seam of your cunt making you whine and grip his hair with a huff.

with his help, you rested one hand on top of his shoulders gasping when he moved your panties to the side to kiss your clit with enough pressure to make you squirm with delight and licks that drove you wild as he kept you on the edge while his free hand jerked himself off.

johnny devoured you messily, his tongue tracing each inch of your pussy until he ended back at your swollen pearl giving it more kitten licks and kisses while you jerked your hips. "please soap please."

your begging was so pretty and airy as you felt tears well in your eyes again but this time for a different reason as the air in the closet smelled like sex and want as your cunt drooled in soap's mouth.

one more stroke of his tongue and you came, your cunt fluttering around nothing as you rode out your high until you were tugging on johnny's shoulder with a whine. "fuck me please i need your dick."

soap growled low in his throat giving his cock a squeeze before standing up and licking his lips. with his help, johnny set you on a table and spread your legs obscenely wide open while leaning in.

his mouth found yours in a kiss that made your toes curl as you wrapped your legs around his waist while trailing your hand down his chest to his pants to free his aching cock that sprung free.

the tip rubbed against your slick entrance in a teasing manner as he nipped your bottom lip with a grin hearing you gasp and whine again in his mouth feeling him sink inside your warm heat with a groan.

from being in a cramped closet there was no escaping johhny or his touch, his fingers pinched your nipples once your breasts were tugged free from the top of your bridesmaid dress while his tongue licked into your mouth tasting the sweet champagne you had.

you clung to johnny like he was your lifeline, your fingers curling into the collar of his jacket while you moaned into his mouth feeling his cock drag through your silken walls hitting that special spot.

thankfully no one walked by the closet otherwise they'd hear you getting your brains fucked loose until it turned into mush and oozed from your ears. "fuck me johhny harder please i love you so much!"

your voice was slurry from becoming cock drunk, your hips jerking to meet johnny's sloppy thrusts, the way your wet cunt squelched and milked him it was clear he was struggling not to cum yet.

his hips snapped forward roughly spearing you on his fat length making you squeal as your orgasm hit you like a train dragging johnny down with you in the flames of bliss and a hazy pleasure.

he held your waist and stayed nestled deep inside your pussy while kissing you over again until your chin burned from his scruff. "i love you too angel, be mine again?" he asked with those puppy dog eyes.

"how can i say no?" you teased wrapping your arms around his neck to pepper his face in honey sweet kisses.

comments and relogs with tags are really appreciated <3

#📬mailbox #call of duty #call of duty x reader #cod smut #cod x reader smut #johnny smut #soap x reader smut #johnny soap mctavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #johnny soap mctavish x you #soap x you #johnny soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish x reader #soap smut #john soap mactavish x reader #honeywrites

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cultofdixon · 9 months ago

Text

Double Trouble

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • It was only supposed to be one baby, but life carries plenty of surprises • SFW/Smol ANGST • TW: Pregnancy & Birth / Multiples Pregnancy Anxiety / Sleep Deprivation / Nausea & Vomiting / Injuries

Requested by: Anon

“You sure you don’t wanna come?”

“Yeah, I’ll join you on the next one babe”

Daryl hesitated at the door waiting for any sign from her to have him either stay home with her or for her to change her mind and join him on his run. But the smile Y/N carried reassured him not to worry about leaving.

“Okay…if anythin’ just. Get Rick to radio me, yeah?” He asks as she brought herself over for a hug and to plant a kiss on his lips.

“I will. Be safe okay?” Y/N smiles letting Daryl sneak in another kiss as an ‘I will’ to her words before heading out.

The second the door closed with the archer on the other side of it, Y/N went from standing still to sprinting upstairs. She stumbled a bit and managed to run into the wall from not entering the bathroom door smoothly.

Which resulted in a frozen moment before finally going into the bathroom slowly and shutting the door behind her. Y/N hesitantly approached the counter reaching for the test she had taken prior to him leaving.

“Oh shit…”

As the day went by fast, Daryl couldn’t have been more happy to come home after a boring run. He didn’t get too far into the community for Rick to stop him.

“Hey, how’d the run go?”

“It was boring”

“I would assume so” Rick laughs, resting his hands on his hips. “You were only delivering meds to the Hilltop and then their seedlings to the Kingdom. Which reminds me how’s Hershel Jr? Get to hold him?”

“Rick. You’re askin’ a lot. Are you trying to get me to avoid somethin’ or are you struggling to get what you really wanna ask out of yea?”

“Uh. Y/N has been acting squirrel-y around here since you’ve left in the morning. I wanted to radio you to see if you knew anythin’ but like. She still did help with the projects we’ve got going around the community so I don’t know why she was all over the place”

“Thanks for lettin’ me know…” Daryl started his bike back up and rode the rest of the way to his and Y/N’s.

The sound of the garage door closing alerted Y/N as she quickly pulls herself away from the kitchen fixing her dress. It was new, well new to her but still very new and she didn’t know how to wear it or contain her excitement for something she needs Daryl to come through the door to see.

“Love, are you doing al—-“ Daryl stops in front of her, instantly noticing the beautiful floral dress on her before taking in the smell of dinner that was made. “You’ve been busy…” he brought himself close as his eyes trailed her person while his hands placed themselves firmly on her hips. “Did I miss something?”

“No?”

“You sure? I don’t deserve all of this” Daryl eventually brought his arms around her waist, instantly bringing her pressed against him. Y/N gave him a bit of an annoyed look given he was dirty from killing a few walkers and the obvious dirt picking up from his bike to land on him. “Sorry sunshine I should’ve cleaned up before I ruined your dress…”

“Well once you have the meal I prepared you…you’re gonna want to have dessert after and this dress isn’t going to matter” Y/N smirks watching his gaze glue to hers as that excited him. “But please. Do enjoy what I cooked for you first before we get to anything”

“I will” Daryl smiles warmly to her, kissing her lovingly before parting to see what was prepared which was venison. But he hesitated from taking a seat to pick up what was set neatly on the corner of the dining table.

The tension filled the room as it only brought Y/N’s anxiety to the surface making her pull at her fingers waiting for any kind of reaction from Daryl.

That’s when she froze to the sound of sniffles making her instinctively go to Daryl resting her hand on his back indicating for him to look at her. He turned toward her with tears in his eyes looking back down at the pregnancy test in his hands before back to her.

“Yeah?”

Y/N started to nod as the tears formed when his smile did, reassuring her that it was indeed a good thing. Daryl brought his arms around his woman holding her as they sobbed over the good news.

“We’re having a baby” Y/N laughs out a sob feeling Daryl tighten around her gently.

“We’re having a baby…” He whispers continuing to hold her as they remained like that for a long time.

Thanking the universe for opening this door after the Savior’s War…even if they weren’t prepared for the intensity of it all

First Trimester

Daryl sat on the tile floor gently rubbing circles on Y/N’s back as she had her head practically glued into the toilet. He would relax one second and tense up when she would vomit.

Eventually, Y/N stopped for a bit but had no energy to leave the coolness of the tile floor. She told him he doesn’t have to sit with her if she wasn’t expelling her stomach. But Daryl wasn’t going anywhere and told her to lay her head in his lap until she was ready to get up.

“Can we stay here all day?”

“If you’d like” Daryl chuckles, continuing to rub soothing circles on her back. “You ready to tell people?”

“Mhm…You can tell whoever you want”

“Really? You don’t have anybody you don’t want me telling and rather you do it?”

Y/N pondered it for a bit before flinching to the sound of a door shutting and such caused Daryl to flinch. “Did you call somebody?”

“No…No I didn’t” Daryl gently moved her off of his lap as she instantly went to being curled up on the floor while he went to investigate the noise.

But his anxieties instantly washed away when he saw Siddiq hesitantly roaming around his living room.

“You need something?”

“I was gonna knock but Rick said just to come in and I thought that was uh…weird. But anyway, he told me Y/N wasn’t feeling well and we found some nausea medication on the last run” Siddiq cautiously handed Daryl the bottle as he was still getting used to being around a lot of people since Carl brought him in. “Do you…uhm have any questions about it? Before you give them to her?”

Daryl read the label in hopes it would tell him the obvious, but it would also be stupid of him if the doctor in the community doesn’t know.

“Would it affect the baby?”

Siddiq seemed to connect the dots instantly to the she’s been vomiting for a few days description Rick gave him. “Your baby should be fine” he smiles warmly, happy for the good news his new friends have.

“You can’t tell anybody til we do”

“I figured” He laughs. “I will suggest having check ups. Monthly is ideal and we only have a fetal doppler which only detects the heartbeat…I heard that the hilltop has an actual machine if you ever want to schedule to be checked there”

“I appreciate it Siddiq…I’ll let Y/N know” Daryl shot him a smile before heading back upstairs as Siddiq let himself out.

Returning back upstairs to their bedroom, Daryl found Y/N climbing back into bed curling up in the warmth of the blankets now. He set the bottle on the table beside the bed before climbing in behind her and bringing her in his embrace.

“Mmm…who was it?”

“Siddiq. And he knows now…so whenever you’re ready you two can go get checked”

“You’ll come?”

“Ain’t ever leavin’ your side”

It’s been about three weeks before Daryl said anything to anyone because Y/N has been experiencing morning sickness to an extreme which was odd according to the book Siddiq found for them. Including his medical opinion but as long as she can still manage to have something to eat during the day he wasn’t too worried when he’d check on her.

“You sure about this?”

“Yes, I can go to the Hilltop with you. I just can’t ride with you…” Y/N pouts at Daryl through her body mirror watching him approach her wrapping his arms around her. He planted a few kisses to her shoulder then her neck to get a smile out of her. “Are you going to tell Rick when we head out?”

“Yeah. Or might wait til Hilltop. Dunno yet” Daryl says with a confused look on his face as he brought his hands under her shirt feeling exactly what he’s feeling. “You showing already?” He questions for her to pull away and lift her shirt over her belly turning to the side. “Well would you look at that”

“Were you a big baby?”

“I wouldn’t know. Merle just called me a blob when I was a baby…least that’s what I remember our mom sayin’”

“Mmm…I think I was. Maybe that’s why I’m showing already” Y/N continued to look at her belly smiling when Daryl brought his hand to rest on her bump. “Okay you make it look like nothing”

“Shut up” He laughs kissing her temple. “It’s everythin’. I’ll get your pack and meet yea downstairs”

Y/N playfully pouts again when he pulls away but stood in the mirror a bit longer admiring the life she’s creating out of the love of both of them. Her smile remaining.

Once the two grouped up with the others by Alexandria’s gates, Michonne being the observant person she can be noticed Y/N not get on Daryl’s bike and into the car Siddiq was taking. She instantly turned to her partner asking if he might know.

“She probably got tired of the bike”

“Are you serious? Are we talking about the same Y/N that loves the night drives on the bike with Daryl?” Michonne gave him a questioning look as Rick shrugged. “Go ask why she’s not riding with him”

“You can! Why do I—-“

“I will.” Michonne made her way to Daryl and instantly questioned him.

Rick watches as Michonne approaches Daryl to ask him why his partner isn’t riding with him. He instantly shot up when Michonne started to show her worry in her face before smiling big when Daryl finally said it. He even gave Rick a look when he said the good news that led Michonne to hug her tightly.

Once they parted Rick made his way over. “What’s so good it made my wife cry?”

“Y/N’s pregnant”

“Oh my god! Ha! That explains why she was sick” Rick smiles patting Daryl on the back. “Congratulations!”

“You must be excited to become a dad” Michonne smiles watching him nod even if there was a sense of anxiety about that chapter. “It’s okay to be nervous”

“Yeah, plus it’s okay to mess up. You’re not alone on this journey either so.” Rick smiles more gripping Daryl’s shoulder again before parting. “Alright. Let’s get going and I’ll congratulate the mom to be when we get to the hilltop”

“Im going to ride with her and congratulate now. I’ll see you at the hilltop”

“You’re leaving me alone with Eugene?”

“Yes” Michonne smiles patting his chest as she goes into the first car leaving Rick to sigh and accept his fate.

The trip to Hilltop was smooth enough for Y/N not to get car sick but Daryl of course checked on her once she stepped out. She went to help Siddiq with the stock up of the medical trailer given she was going to be his apprentice. Might as well learn as much as you can before you’re tied up for a long time.

“Ah! Y/N!!” Maggie smiles running over the second she got out and immediately noticed her bump resulting in a scream of joy. “Boy do you two work fast! Ah I’m gonna be an aunt again!” She cheers hugging Y/N tightly quickly remembering as she pulled away. “Come on you’ll be taking it easy with me today”

“I was gonna be with Siddiq for most of the day”

“Then I’m tagging along. I’ve missed you”

“I’ve missed you too Mags” Y/N smiles as her smile started to falter when the tears came on suddenly. “I really did miss you”

Maggie couldn’t help the little chuckle that escaped her as she brought Y/N back into her arms. Daryl instantly catching onto the tears and making sure she’s okay but Maggie shooed him.

“Just the hormones” Maggie reassures Daryl while she comforted Y/N.

After a busy day of helping Hilltop reinforce the walls, dig up new gardening spots, restocking the infirmary, and handling general stuff…

Y/N finally sat on the steps of the Barrington House with two bowls of the stew one of the Hilltop residents made for everybody waiting for Daryl to step through the gates. But while she waited she ended up eating both bowls and felt awful when Daryl arrived the second she finished the second one. He was definitely going to have to get used to the hormones because she started tearing up the second he walked over to her.

“It’s okay. I’ll go get us more” Daryl reassures watching her tear up more making it feel like an arrow to the chest looking at her. “Sunshine…”

“I should go get it. I’m the one that ate your food—-“ Before Y/N could even get up, she was gently pushed back down as Daryl took both bowls to get another serving. She pouted the entire time he was gone and didn’t light up until she took a bite remembering how good it was.

“Better?” Daryl smiles when she nods while happily eating. “Good” he kisses her temple before starting to eat for himself.

Little did they know that Tara and Maggie were watching the two from the door opened ajar.

“They are going to have a cute ass baby” Tara comments with Maggie nodding.

“Over-protective parents too”

“Always a bonus”

The two share a short laugh before closing the door and letting them be.

Second Trimester

“I feel huge” Y/N huffs, waiting for Siddiq to finish measuring her 18 week belly for her to write it down. She’s been keeping track of that amongst other things.

“Well you did say you were possibly a big baby? I can really go off that because from the scan we did back at the Hilltop it didn’t show much—-“

“It showed my everything” Y/N stated only for Siddiq to whisper an apology even if she was just kidding and her saddened expression only brought out more apologies out of the man. “Should I be worried?”

“No! Not at all…we should only worry if there is something to worry about. Like how you’re trying to do every chore that pops up when you’re pregnant like this”

“I would like to be useful Siddiq! And since Daryl is helping the Kingdom at the moment, I can do stuff without his scowl around” Y/N states only for Siddiq to take a mental note to have Daryl never leave again if his wife is overdoing herself.

“Just. Take them at your own pace. Don’t overdo it like I said” Siddiq handed back her journal for the belly measurement and the blood pressure he took. “You’ll be back when you reach 20 weeks okay?”

“I know I know”

The “taking it easy with the chores” obviously didn’t stick with Y/N.

Y/N handled inventory for the pantry (the written part), helped Aaron with laundry for both of their households, took on a midday watch shift, watered the gardens, and currently working on taking care of the weeds of the garden is when she started to feel it. But honest, during the watch she felt the exhaustion hit her already and went against her.

“Y/N? You don’t look too good” Rosita frowns approaching her from her side of the gardens as she was helping her friend with the weeds. She noticed the loss of color in Y/N’s face when she brought herself to stand only to falter with her balance. “Amor, you should stop. Rest for the remainder of the day”

“No I have…I have to get this…” Y/N immediately dropped what she was holding and took a slow fall to the ground. She shifted from landing on her side to hold her belly.

Rosita instantly knelt beside her quickly turning to whoever closest to them, in this case Gabriel, and whistling him down.

“Go get Siddiq! And somebody get me Rick” Rosita demanded hearing Gabriel spit out an ‘ok’ while he ran to the infirmary to get Siddiq while an Alexandrian nearby went to get Rick to radio the obvious.

It took about 3 hours to get Daryl to get on his way back home. Not that he picked something over Y/N, never. He was hunting with Carol and the range he was at was just outside the suitable one for Kingdom to reach Alexandria. It took Ezekiel to come out in a car to pick up the two and head immediately to Alexandria.

“Hey—-“ Daryl didn’t mean to throw the door open to the infirmary, watching his wife flinch to the sound. “Sorry, is she okay? Is—-“

“Yeah. Mom and baby are okay…” Siddiq took the blood pressure cuff off of Y/N’s arm while she currently picked at the IV in her hand. “She has to stay until the IV finishes because she was dehydrated, then she’ll be homebound for a bit. Just until her pressure goes down”

“Great…” Y/N frowns continuing to mess with the IV as Daryl quickly stopped her when he sat on the edge of the bed taking her hand.

“You should be taking it easy” Daryl kept his annoyance to himself but the worry always poked through. “I told yea to”

“I didn’t want to be useless…besides I’m not even that far along. I’m not supposed to be this exhausted”

“Your body is working extra hard because it’s growing a whole other human being. It wont benefit anybody if you get hurt doing a job someone else can handle” Siddiq made his last comment before handing Y/N the journal from before that had her current blood pressure. “I’ll come back to take the IV out. Then you can take her back home and I’ll visit in a week to see if her blood pressure went down” he shot the two a smile as Daryl gave his thanks while holding Y/N’s hand feeling her squeeze it harshly when he stepped away.

“What? What’s wrong? Should I—-“

“No, no…it’s weird” Y/N took the hand she was holding to rest it on a certain spot on her belly. Daryl’s confusion only grew until he felt it.

“Oh my god…”

“I know right?” Y/N laughs softly feeling Daryl’s hand continue to rub circles on her belly in hopes for more movement but nothing after the first.

During the bedrest, Carol decided to stay with Y/N during that time which led Ezekiel to do so as well. He helped around the community with Daryl while Carol kept an eye on Y/N. He didn’t ask her to but she insisted, she needed a break from all the kingdom stuff and this was the perfect excuse.

“Tell me why this is your current craving?”

“Pickles? It’s a common craving—-“

“No, pickles with hot sauce”

“Because…I just like it?” Y/N stated with confusion in her voice as she had her craving on a plate rested on her bump. “Are you going to try it with me or question all my decisions like you’ve had the past few days?”

“No…To both of those, I’m just. Trying to come to the decision of something I’ve been asked repeatedly and I don’t know if I even want it” Carol frowns turning to Y/N who she currently laid beside in her bed noticing the curious look, which was obvious given who wouldn’t be after what she said. “Ezekiel asked me to marry him” she stated watching the excitement grow on her friend’s face. “But—-Before you shower me with this is good news shit, I don’t…I don’t think I want it”

“You know he’s not Ed right?” Y/N felt a sting of regret for bringing up past trauma as if it was nothing and started becoming apologetic even if Carol needed to hear exactly that.

“I do…but—-“

“There’s no real but…Ezekiel is a good guy, you two are even raising a kid. You don’t have to decide now and I know Ezekiel would be patient” Y/N set her plate on the end table before forcing herself to sit up entirely. “Listen. I doubt Ezekiel would be mad if you said no. Marriage can be weird for some people and as long as you love each other and support each other. I don’t think he’d care in the long run if you have a ring or not”

“Your kid is lucky to have you as a mom, and especially Daryl as a dad”

“You think he’s nervous?”

“Who wouldn’t be when becoming a new parent?”

“Me, because I have Daryl…and he’s kind of a natural with kids. I’m not worried about having his because he’ll jump right into it.”

Daryl is going to be a great dad

As Daryl started to make his way home after a night watch, a night watch Y/N forced him to do with “if I can’t help around, you’ll help for me” when he’d much rather be laying with her. He heard the son of a bitch prisoner scoff from his cell.

“Yo Dixon. Word traveled with news about you having a baby with the missus”

“What’s it to yea, Negan” Daryl frowns stepping close to the vent as Negan made his way over.

“You think you’re gonna be a good father? With how messed up you are?” Negan grabbed onto the small bars. “I’ve seen the scars, man. What makes yea think you aren’t going to be exactly like the man that gave you those?”

Daryl didn’t hesitate to swing his foot between the bars and nail Negan right in the nose almost breaking it. He falls back groaning in pain as part of him wanted to scream but no one would care. The archer’s actions didn’t mean it didn’t bother him.

The door creaked open in hopes Daryl wouldn’t wake Y/N but she happened to be wide awake reading. She instantly tossed the book aside smiling at her husband but when he fully entered the room something was off which led her smile to fade. She didn’t say anything immediately as Daryl brought himself into the bed low enough to where his head is by her belly. He brought his arm around her, his fingers gently tracing shapes on her belly.

“Baby?” Y/N frowns running her fingers through his hair feeling him shift to bring his attention onto her. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah…’m ok” Daryl lied of course and that wasn’t going to get far with Y/N as her expression only softened and grew more with worry. “You think I’ll mess up our kid?”

“Daryl, let me be completely honest with you. Our kid is going to be extremely lucky to have you as their dad” Y/N stated and wouldn’t take any ‘buts’ from him. “Why would you think you will mess up our kid?”

“Just…dunno” Daryl frowns laying his head back on the bed as he started to tap his fingers on her bump which resulted in a kick or two sometimes. Y/N rested her other hand on a different spot from where his is and felt movement. “I was walking past Negan’s cell and he—-“

Y/N instantly started to move which alarmed Daryl to get up helping her up. She gave her thanks before immediately moving past him.

“Love—-“

“Stupid son of a bitch” Y/N groans from the obvious weight shift when getting out of the bed and walking down the stairs.

“Me?!”

“No! NEGAN” She shouted out her anger making Daryl fear for a bit but then he remembered.

“Love, you have to stay in bed. You need to relax”

“Fuck that. The stupid son of a bitch who kidnapped my husband. Killed my best friend. That fucking pig isn’t going to fuck with my life anymore” Y/N searched around the living room. “Where the fuck is my gun?!”

“I ain’t giving you a gun if you’re going to kill him”

“Then my knife! I won’t kill him—-just make him bleed a bit”

“Ain’t doing that either when you can’t even have a knife holster on” Daryl stated thinking her coming up empty meaning she’d stop and go back to bed. But instead she went out the front door, without shoes and all. “Shit. Y/N it’s late—-“

“Won’t stop me” Y/N stormed, power walked? waddled her way to the cell but on the way found something in the streets. “Hand me that”

Daryl was confused at what she was looking at as he shined his flashlight to the ground finding only a fallen tree branch. “The fucking tree branch?”

“Yes, if you don’t give it to me—-You’ll sleep on the couch”

He wasn’t going to fight those actions and picked it up for her, only for her to snatch it making her way to the cell.

“Can you tell me exactly how this happened again?” Siddiq questioned how Negan manage to have broken his nose.

“Long story” Negan frowns letting the doctor work but the two instantly shifted their attention to the sound of the main door opening before revealing Y/N with a tree branch in hand with Daryl following behind him. “Yo, you’re not allowed down here”

“Shut the fuck up!” Y/N shouted coming into the cell. “Siddiq move” she said softly at first but when Siddiq just sat there with his kit in hand, her rage only grew. “MOVE OR ILL HIT YOU TOO” she snapped resulting in the doctor to quickly move out of her way and to Daryl’s side.

Negan stared at her expecting nothing but immediately started backing into the wall on his cot when she started swinging. The branch hurt a LOT more than expected and she wasn’t letting up.

“STOP—-“

“NO”

“PLEASE—-“

“SHUT UP”

“I DID NOTHING TO Y—-“

“YOU DID EVERYTHING. YOU KILLED GLENN. YOU KILLED ABRAHAM. SASHA. AND YOU KIDNAPPED MY HUSBAND.” Y/N snapped smacking him a couple times. “YOU FUCKING HURT HIM. TOOK HIM AWAY FROM ME AND HIS FAMILY. NOW YOU THINK YOU CAN HURT HIM ALL OVER AGAIN IN MY FUCKING COMMUNITY?!”

As Y/N continued to practically beat Negan with the tree branch as neither Daryl or Siddiq went to intervene.

“She knows she’s going to be bedridden for a few weeks after this right?”

“Probably not. But as long as she gets her point across I don’t think she’d care”

“I’ve only ever heard what Negan did…and I’m sorry” Siddiq frowns. “I could only imagine”

“If I didn’t have her at the end of it, I wouldn’t be here”

Y/N started to become exhausted and Negan was dumbfounded, bruised, and in tears at this point. She dropped the tree branch feeling tears come on.

“He will be a great dad. This child is lucky. If I hear you say another thing against that? I will kill you” Y/N pulled away wiping away her tears letting Daryl engulf her in his embrace.

Siddiq stared at Negan’s state before closing the cell locking it up.

“You’re not gonna—-“

“Nah the bruises and minor cuts will heal. Let’s get out of here”

Third Trimester

“You want me to stop?”

“No”

“Alright, let me get comfortable too then” Daryl rested his cheek on top of Y/N’s head as he was currently holding her belly up to relieve some of the weight. “You’re lucky I’m strong”

“You gave me a big baby” Y/N winced slightly to the movement. “That kicks in multiple directions”

“I don’t think they can do the splits in there” Daryl jokes listening to her groan as a result. “We can lay down yknow”

“No, I’ve been on bedrest too many times I’m taking advantage of this” She shifted a bit, feeling Daryl’s arms readjust slightly while he also started to kiss the top of her head and temple. “You had to get everything ready without me…and I feel bad”

“You helped in your own way without over exerting yourself. All you had to do was keep our baby safe, alright? And yea did that” Daryl didn’t get an immediate reply, all he got was a slow removal of his arms. “Sunshine?”

“How many weeks am I again?”

“Mmm…finishing 36, why?”

Y/N shifted uncomfortable trying to lose past her belly but couldn’t, but her struggle led Daryl to look for her and there was a puddle.

“Your water broke…”

“Oh god, oh—-Fuck, Daryl isn’t it too early?!!”

“No—-Fuck. Okay, just take a seat sunshine. I gotta get Siddiq” Daryl stated and he practically sprinted out of the house so she wouldn’t be alone for long.

Even if the short time alone still led to the downward spiral of her thoughts.

It’s too early

Complications can happen

What if she dies?

What if they both do

Y/N was feeling all of it and instead of crying, she only winced to the contractions and times them until Daryl came back a bit out of breath running to the infirmary and back. Keeping to his word about returning immediately.

“He’s getting his things. Are you sure about doing this here?” They’ve discussed home birth compared to…infirmary birth? It’s weird not having hospitals anymore. But that’s beside the point. It didn’t matter to them, but also took into account of when and where she’d go into labor.

“Love?” Daryl brought himself in front of her kneeling to catch her downward gaze, resting a hand on her belly. “What are you feeling? We are about to meet our girl” Another thing Daryl is fixated on, having a girl.

“What if something bad happens…” Y/N tried not to cry when saying such, but the crack in her voice hurt him. “It’s too early”

“It’s not though, Siddiq said anything past 24 is good survival for our babe. You’re finishing 36…beyond that”

��It’s going to hurt…a lot. I won’t bounce back to it right away…” Y/N frowns feeling the tears fall as she squeezed her eyes tight when another contraction waved through. “Shit…”

“Sunshine, look at me” Daryl rose to his feet taking her hands in his for her to squeeze them until the contraction stopped. Once it did she brought her eyes onto his. “Everythin’ is gonna go smoothly. Siddiq knows what he’s doing, we’re prepared for the most part…and I’m right here. I ain’t going anywhere”

Y/N only started to sob even more letting Daryl gently hold her as the tears were of joy for this time at a loss for words.

“Cmon, let’s get yea ready”

By the time Siddiq finally arrived, word got around…even with how late in the night it was. Rick sat on the couch of the Dixon resident while Michonne made coffee in their kitchen. Judith slept in the Grimes residence next door, which explains the baby monitor attached to Michonne’s hip. Rosita entered the house with an exhausted Eugene following suit.

“Is word out to the other communities?”

“Carol is on her way, Maggie would’ve liked to be here but…y’know” Rick frowns before brushing the sadness off. “Anyway! Aaron will be here with Gracie in a sec. Maybe I should grab Judith just to be safe”

“I will once we get an update, okay?” Michonne reassures bringing the pot to the coffee table setting a hot pad down before the pot.

As Siddiq descended down the stairs to receive more towels from the hall closet and noticed the amount of people in the house. Everyone instantly stared at him.

“Baby?”

“Not yet. She’s at nine centimeters and more uncomfortable than I thought she would be. Something…doesn’t exactly add up” Siddiq trailed and the worry in his toned caused all of them to get in his business. “But but. Daryl is trying to expedite things even if Y/N wants to scream”

“If the pain is that bad, the woman is allowed to scream” Rosita stated getting a tired nod of agreement from Eugene.

“She’s trying not to” Siddiq grabbed the last towel from the closet and went to make his return upstairs.

While such was happening, Daryl kept trying to help Y/N walk around to get that one centimeter there but she kept pushing his hands away every time he tried.

“I wanna lay down…”

“Then let me help yea into—-“

“No I need this stupid shit over with!” Y/N groans leaning against the wall for a moment, giving Daryl the opportunity to be close so she could shift to leaning onto him and not the uncomfortable wall. “Fuck…something feels weird…weirder than usual” She whined, letting Daryl help her back onto the bed as he was going to shout for the doc but he was already coming in when their concerns were rising.

“Siddiq something—-“

“is wrong, something has to be wrong” Y/N kept biting the inside of her cheek to avoid her from screaming at this night hour…

But the rattle of her scream startled everyone downstairs. She couldn’t hold it in anymore, and she was there. It was time.

“On the next contraction you’re going to want to push, okay?” Siddiq stated as he finished putting on gloves and lifting the blanket to help guide the baby out while Y/N’s anxiety started to eat at her.

“I-…O-Okay” Y/N sobbed, feeling Daryl bring his arm around her shoulders while his free hand took hers. “Daryl…”

“I’m right here. I’ve gotcha sunshine” Daryl kissed her temple feeling her squeeze his hand when she felt a contraction coming on.

Robin Elizabeth Dixon

7lb 2oz

Both parents were in tears until the anxiety returned in Daryl this time around when Y/N’s expression went from joy to full of pain.

“Siddiq—-Something really is wrong” She felt the discomfort return as she tried to sit up and look herself but Siddiq advised her not to when he brought himself back with another towel thinking of complications.

Then Siddiq’s expression went from confusion to a bit of shock as it only kicked Daryl’s anxiety up.

“Siddiq!” He shouted to get him to snap out of it as Siddiq breathed out a laugh.

“You’re going to have to push again” He stated grabbing another set of gloves and another towel. “This explains a lot that happened during your pregnancy”

“Siddiq” Y/N groans in annoyance after handing Daryl their daughter to grip onto the sheets feeling another contraction. “Fucking say it”

“You’re having multiples. Explains the extra weight. The morning sickness happening more than once or twice a day—-Regardless. You’re crowning”

“Oh my god” The shock was getting to Daryl and Y/N’s clearly directed annoyance snapped him back.

“You drop her, I will end you”

Y/N couldn’t believe this was her first, and most likely last pregnancy. Who woulda thought she would be having a second baby? At least it’s with the man she loves, and with the support from the village they have.

Shepherd Glenn Dixon

7lbs 6oz

“We…are going to need a second crib” Y/N laughed holding their son who instantly calmed the second he laid in his mother’s arms. “Holy shit Daryl…we have two babies”

“Yeah, that we do” Daryl laughs smiling at the little girl in his arms, seated on the edge of the bed looking over at his wife and son. “They turned out perfect…you did good mama”

“Well…that’s cuz their daddy kept me safe” Y/N instantly turned to the sound of their daughter yawning watching Daryl’s face light up at everything both babies did. “You are definitely going to be a helicopter parent”

“Shut up Siddiq and I both saw what yea did to Negan, these two are your cubs. You’re gonna go full mama bear on anybody that messes with them”

“Damn right” Y/N smirks, leaning forward and kissing Daryl lovingly before gently caressing her little girl’s cheek. “So…who’s gonna tell the village downstairs?”

It wasn’t until Siddiq came back to check on Y/N and the babes when they came up with a plan.

A very quiet descend down the stairs and everyone noticed Siddiq coming down with their baby girl in his arms.

“Oh my god I knew it! I knew they would have a girl” Rosita smacked Eugene on her way up from the couch to go admire the little one with Michonne and Carol.

“She has his eyes” Carol smiles gently caressing the top of her head.

“And her hair. Oh my god why are you showing her to us and not Daryl?” Michonne comments and before she knew it, she couldn’t hold in the excitement that the rest had when Daryl descended down the stairs.

“Yeah she’s pretty great. But so is he” Daryl smiles bringing himself to stand with Siddiq so everyone could admire the twins.

“Congrats man” Aaron smiles patting his back gently. “Now you’ve got double the trouble”

“I know for sure that those kids ain’t gonna get messed with, with him and Y/N as their parents” Rick comments with a smile watching the boy yawn.

“This explains a lot of Y/N’s pregnancy, and boy did she bring perfect babes into the world” Carol makes the last comment that they all agreed with.

Then eventually as the day continues and those who were in the house as guests have left…leaving Daryl and Y/N laying in their bed with their twins nuzzled up with each other protected by their parents and pillows. The two admiring the lives they’ve created…

And to the start of this new chapter

#cultofdixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction

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1920sladydectective · 2 months ago

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Best Friend's Mother Ch.5 5.4K

This is the penultimate chapter everybody!

Love you all, thanks for reading my things! Scroll back on this account or check AO3 for the full story! Not proofread I am tired.

Enjoy Enjoy Enjoy

Considering the events of the previous evening, you should have anticipated a ridiculous morning.

Yawning, with bleary eyes, you left your room and were confronted with a wall of wrapping paper where the top of the stairs should be. A tap to the shoulder, an antler covered Kino.

“Mystic doorway,” He mumbles, “When Mel gets here we can smash through it and Mum will be waiting in a Santa hat,”

“You’re kidding,”

“Nope,” Mel added, appearing with hazy eyes. You were feeling it too. Port was brutal.

You were permitted to do the honours. Ruining the barrier, you were met with large white footprints going down the stairs towards the living room, and Ambessa Medarda wearing a Santa hat, wolf top and tartan trousers. The others smiled fondly, the novelty long since gone, but your heart was trapped in a whimsical vice. Muffled and shocked, a giggle tumbled out. You had never experienced this. Ever.

In the living room the most ridiculous show of presents lay under and around the tree, ornately wrapped with bows and ribbons. Your eyes couldn’t stay fixed on one thing, darting around madly till they settled on the mantelpiece

Four stockings, hand knitted, hung from the aged wood. The first three initials were obvious, but the addition of your own made your throat close oddly. You were so included here and it felt wrong, all things considered. You felt a strong hand squeeze your shoulder, a warm look in older eyes.

“Seems you’ve all been good,”

“Overdone it a bit this year, Mum,” Kino snorted, taking what was clearly his spot on the floor.

“Shut up, boy,”

Her touch grounded you, body relaxing as you saw the nibbled goodies and drained port. The carrots however, were intact.

“Guess Rudolph was just fine,” Sarcasm oozed, as you munched off the end of the carrot.

Mel smiled, pulling you roughly down next to her as you were handed your stockings. Your offer of carrot was rudely rejected and you waited with bated breath to take a peek. It was heavy, and lumpy, with a toblerone resting at the top. It was all your favourites and some things far too expensive to be stocking fillers in your mind. Lipstick, chocolates and a bottle of Rum. At the very bottom, resting sadly, was a Clementine. Kino had coal.

“Why?” It was outraged, cheeks full of chocolate coins.

“Perhaps Father Christmas didn’t appreciate you refusing to help me with the Games room remodel,” It was quiet, muffled by coffee.

He threw the coal at Mel, and a brawl began. You just nibbled a piece of fudge.

It was a slow and easy start, despite the family violence, and you sat talking with Mel as you had breakfast. The order, though different to your own, had been explained. Stockings, breakfast, gifts and then a family stroll.

A full english was slapped in front of you and you grunted.

“We normally save ourselves for the Christmas dinner in my house,”

“Foolish,” Ambessa said, beheading a sausage, “That makes your stomach shrink and reduces your appetite,”

Well. Fuck you I guess. Full English then.

Back in the sitting room, each person was handed a present.

Mel gave hers out first, swirling holly and ivy concealing presents that were so her it made you laugh. A spa holiday, for the both of you, in January. Ambessa received a collection of fancy cooking utensils and Kino received a book of mazes.

“This seems like a gift to yourself, Babe,” You smiled, flicking through all the treatments she’d bought, “Will I have any body left after it's cleaned and dissolved?”

“It’ll cleanse you of all your impurities,” Her gaze darted to an obvious place.

“Gee, Thanks,”

There was lots to get through and it seemed that they had refined patience with it that you did not possess. You had never seen this many gifts at once and wanted to eviscerate them to find the treasures beneath. Kino chucked another couple things each person’s way, some from Father Christmas, some from him.

He’d only gone and bought you a real tiara. Rich people are so fucking stupid. It sat proudly on your head all the same, swarovski crystals catching the light of the tree.

“Regal, your highness,” He bowed his head, eyes crinkled with joy.

“Twat,”

Father Christmas had been generous indeed, showering you with books and clothes and trinkets. You were a bit overwhelmed, dazed fingers stroking over jumpers and shoes as the Medardas continued to rip into the mountain. A sea of wrapping paper rested over your legs, warm and shiny as Ambessa drank an unholy amount of Brandy for 11am on a Wednesday.

She chucked you a lumpy package, this one actually from her rather than her fat old man counterpart. It was a stuffed toy, a book character Tigger from Winnie the Pooh to be exact.

“What?” You said, eyes gleaming, fingers buried in fuzziness.

“You mentioned it was your favourite childhood book,” Her lips smacked together, “And if you’re any of them it’s the hyperactive orange thing with an individuality complex,”

Wow. How sweet. Fuck.

“Your hat’s falling off,” You muttered to push the warmth away, passing her the gifts you’d begrudgingly bought, “These are yours,”

Ambessa took the pile, eyes murky as you watched intently for her reaction. You still needed her to like them, to like you. Mel couldn’t expect you to fall out of love that quickly.

A rough tear, paper crumpling to reveal a blu-ray DVD. Trading Places, of course. The smile she wore changed, lips twisting as if to contain something you couldn’t see.

“My favourite,” Her tone was far away, perhaps as trapped in the memory as you became every time you entered that room.

“Still don’t know what it’s about,” A lie, you watched it repeatedly on your laptop in October, half drunk and sobbing, “Sure it’s good,”

“We’ll watch it together sometime,” Dear god you hoped not.

“Okay!” It was dismissive, that was all you had, “Next one!”

The next one in question was a Lucky cat figure who looked suspiciously like Mina, paw waving up and down rhythmically. Her laugh filled the space, hard and strong, as the lookalike summoned the feline herself.

“It is you, Little Demon,” Ambessa whispered, “She has gifted me a VooDoo doll,”

Kino snorted, snatching Mina and peppering her with kisses, “Ignore the witch, Fluff,”

The last gift from you she reacted to silently, a heavy gulp in her throat. A little, hand carved statue of three wolves snuggled in one another, babes and mother ornately preserved. Her smile winded you, watery for but a moment.

The rest of the presents passed in a blur, your pile growing seemingly higher and higher until you’d forgotten half of the things. One thing that managed to stand out was Kino’s ridiculous gift to Ambessa; apparently her 9th wolf shirt, this one covered in a howling wolf with the word ‘Alpha' in icy block lettering.

She seemed, confusingly, to favour this above all other gifts as if it were a priceless relic. Mel, bundled in a new dressing gown from Damson Madder, seemed totally unsurprised.

Thankfully, that heralded the end of the gifts, and you were all given twenty minutes to get dressed and ready for the walk. As they shuffled out of the living room, a calloused hand gripped your arm to keep you in place. Ambessa, brown envelope in hand, looked down at you.

“Everything alright?”

“This is your last gift, Dear,” The rough paper slipped into your hand, the other hand still holding your arm.

Panic. Curiosity. A fluttering, harsh pull in your stomach. “What is it?”

“Open it,” She was earnest, no teasing, eyes softer than you’d ever seen.

Doing as instructed, you pulled out several pieces of paper. Trade invoices. Heating, Foundational, Pipe, Roof, and some stuff you didn’t even understand.

“It’ll be completed by the 6th,” Honeyed words, caring, daggers to your heart, “You deserve to enjoy this holiday, and your studies, without the burden of such things,”

You were stammering, eyes cloudy with salt water, as trembling fingers moved through each document. She’d solved years of problems with the flick of an ornate wrist, a trump card of good will she was giving up wielding in favour of giving you privacy. This was no bribe, there was no motive here that you could see, she had done it just because it would help you.

Ambessa was feeling a tad dizzy. Indulgence in brandy and emotional niceties leaving her reeling. You had been perfect all morning, a cocktail of wonder and sarcasm that swirled her mind harder than any drink could. Each reaction a glance or gasp to be cherished, her chest warm as you ended up in a tidal wave of wrapping. Each moment in your presence seemed more tenuous, but she could not fight the need for her next fix. It was a cruel trick, one she deserved, the way you had seemed to curl around her spine and crush it with a grin. Each attempt to slot into Mel’s rules felt like the loss of a limb. She had lost this fight, in more ways than one.

“Ambessa,” It was a croak, the very light of the sun caught in your eyes, “Thank you!”

“No quip about presumptive rich people?” She said, thumb stroking along your forearm, “No class conscious rant?”

A giggle, more silly than you wished, as your damp eyes rolled, “You’ve just saved my life, my childhood home, that’s what you bastards should be doing,”

“Seems I’m learning yet another thing from you then,”

An embrace, rushed and harsh, to prevent the kiss dancing across your lips. She was awful and perfect and you hated her. “I’m going to go get dressed,”

She wished you wouldn’t leave, perhaps ever, to allow her to linger in the aftermath of Christmas morning when it was just you and the fire and tender, crushed skin on skin. The moment ended all the same, and she sat on her armchair with a loud grunt.

The walk was nicer than you’d anticipated, Kino and Ambessa smashing snow at each other as Mel quietly spoke in your direction. Today had felt lighter with her, some tension drained by the closeness of the night before. She’d gotten angry again, called you a few names, and nuzzled into your arms. Her grievances came in waves, as did most of her thought processes, and you didn’t mind the repetitiveness for each time you gained a small chunk back.

Which is why, as she told you about Jayce and Viktor’s new idea, you did not notice the solid mass flying towards your face. Kino stood, eyes wild, gathering another bundle.

There was war after that, plain and simple.

At quarter to two you stumbled back through the French doors, hair damp and lip quivering from cold as Ambessa tugged a triumphant Mel through the door.

“You can’t contain me just because you lost,” She growled, pulling against her mother’s hold.

You avoided the conflict, darting upstairs and diving into the hot shower with such urgency you still had your koala socks on. Fancy shampoo and conditioner pushed away the grime of the outside as your forehead lent against the cool tile. This Christmas, though only half way through, had rocked your world. Ambessa Medarda creating an almost dreamlike, unattainable level of Christmas magic seemed ridiculous. Though, you supposed, she had always been good with grandness and negligent of day to day. You hadn’t needed a summer affair to figure that out. That knowledge did nothing to banish her soft eyes from your mind, that silly bloody Santa hat frizzing up her greying curls, as she did the best thing she’d ever done for you. Fuck her. In every way. Dangerous Path. Cold water smacked you back to Christmas day.

Rictus, sweet angel that he was, had prepared everything and left it in the fridges. All you four needed to manage was timing, and you overconfidently presumed that was a sure bet. None of you, it seemed, had factored in a shitfaced game of Cluedo.

“It was Mustard, in the Library, with the pipe,” Kino spoke into a highball glass, whisky half his lifeblood at present.

“You’re Mustard, you twat,” Mel smacked him in the head, crunching a handful of twiglets.

Ambessa had long since given up engaging, lent against the sofa with a grin as she met your gaze. As an only child you were not used to any kind of bickering over board games, making this confusing and tiring in equal measure. A sparkling, unknown cocktail sat in a gin glass in front of you. Unbeknownst to you, it contained over five shots of alcohol, hidden by sweet tea and cranberry juice. You may not have known, but by God could you feel it.

A thick smokey scent wafted towards you mid gulp and hazy eyes widened.

“The turkey!” You and Mel cried, scrambling to rescue a half scorched bird.

So, it wouldn’t be the juiciest Turkey Crown you’d ever eaten, but the rest of it was salvageable. Namely because you all camped out in the kitchen from that moment onward, checking every five minutes for slowly roasting carrots and stuffing on the off chance they burnt within seconds.

Candles of ivory and emerald glittered along the table as you took your place next to Mel. Your minorly fucked up feast had been served, your blood alcohol level begging for some kind of mass to soak up the metric tonne of vodka you’d ingested. It was good, great even, and yet you felt an odd emptiness. You hadn’t missed your Dad yet, and here it came, hurtling like a freight train into your roast dinner. Pushing peas around your plate like a petulant child, you munched at your inner cheek instead.

She shouldn’t care that you weren’t eating, you were an adult and could look after yourself. Didn’t stop her own chews from slowing to halt as she scanned you. Your mouth twitched, eyes pensive, she hated it. Her eyes managed to catch yours, echoing a question and a comfort in one, heart hammering as your shoulders visibly relaxed and you ate a potato. Good. That was good.

She seemed to smell weakness in you like a shark trailing blood, though she wielded this knowledge in a nicer way now. You felt an odd puncture, perhaps a lung giving out, as she grinned at you and ate a stuffing ball.

Mel was drawing noughts and crosses in her left over gravy, your fingers fighting an equal battle in which a stalemate was always reached. The game sort of became impossible to win if both participants were over five years old, but it made you smile all the same.

5pm rolled around, and with it your Dad’s phone call. It was brief, impersonal and hollow until you reached the news about the house. He knew, of course, as it was his fucking house but you blubbered excitedly all the same. He praised you for making good connections and you frowned. God he always had to be a knob. The call ended quickly after that and you wandered into the Cinema, flopping on Mel.

“Call go okay?” Her fingers stroked hair from your face.

“He’s a penis,”

“Bailey’s Hot chocolate?” She already had a large, reindeer covered mug to offer you, cream and marshmallows floating like little life rafts.

Perhaps this was the best Christmas of your life, and perhaps that filled you with a gaping despair unlike anything you’d ever known. Ambessa collapsed next to you and Mel, pulling you in close. Always there, mending and mutilating your soul.

“Well,” She kissed Mel’s crown, “How has the day been my little wolves?”

“Good, Mum,” A loud slurp, “Best in a long time,”

“Best I’ve ever had,” You admitted, uneasy and grateful.

Both Medarda women kissed your cheek, the tactical manoeuvre from both sides crushing you.

“Thanks by the way,” It felt like too little a sentence, brain blurred.

“You are most welcome, Dear,” Ambessa gave you more soft eyes and calm grins. What the fuck did Christmas do to her?

“Play a game of Uno?” Mel interjected, the food and fizz in her system making her fidgety.

“No more games,” You whined, “Game brain is dead,”

“What then?”

“Well, I say I want to watch the Polar Express,” She pulled a blanket over her knees, yelling for Kino.

“He’s out cold, food coma,” You muttered.

“Little shit, he avoids this film every year,”

“He doesn’t like Tom Hanks, Mum,”

“And that’s my problem, why?”

“Because you’re asking him to watch a film starring Tom Hanks?” You snipped obnoxiously.

Ambessa immediately withheld the Celebrations tin she had been offering, smacking your fingers to drop the Twix, “Sarcastic children don’t get mini chocolates,”

Mel munched happily on a Mars bar, your title of golden child stolen.

Christmas came to a close slowly, the day fluttering shut in time with your weary eyelids. Your room was piled with things, but only Tigger made it to your bed. His inquisitive eyes seemed to know exactly how you felt about his giver, and you had to shove his face into your shoulder.

“Shut up,” You slurred, to an inanimate object like a normal person, “I’ve got a good thing going here, she won’t ruin it,”

“Sure she won’t,” Tigger answered. Fuck, okay you were already asleep.

Boxing Day passed in a blur, as did the dateless, insignificant days that led to New Year’s Eve. The new, slippery dance continued. Mel watched your interactions with her mother less, shoulders settling slightly, though a sharpness remained when you weren’t looking.

New Year’s Eve arrived, and with it Another Bloody Party (shocker).

“How can you be surprised?” Mel muttered, tugging on your hair, “You said yourself this is all rich people do,”

“It’s different living it Babe,” You grumbled, “It’s exhausting, how do you manage?”

“Oh, well I-”

“Oh that’s right, none of you have jobs,”

The heat of the curling iron became intimately acquainted with your ear. Mel kissed it better, sarcastically, as she finished the curl. “I have a job,”

“Uh..no you don’t,”

“Well I will when uni’s over,” Mel muttered, “I’ll make a name for myself,”

“Is that name Medarda?” You really needed to stop antagonising the person holding the hot rod of metal to your skull.

One thing was different this time round and that was the host. The Kirammans hosted New Year’s annually apparently, the party larger than even Ambessa’s summer barbeque. Having not yet had the privilege of seeing a different large house, you experienced shock and awe anew. It was more regal than Ambessa’s home, ornate marbles mingling with old tiling. It felt sterner in a way, though its occupants were far from that. Like a scene in a film, limousines flooded in and out, showcasing tottering heels and tailored suits.

“Now,” Ambessa’s voice was a whispered grumble, “Best behaviour, I don’t want you lot embarrassing me,”

Your face contorted, as did theirs, “What?”

“I’m joking darlings,” She squeezed you all, “I don’t give a shit about these people,”

“Said that rather loud, Mum,” Kino quipped.

“Intentional, sweet boy,”

Newness danced in every corner, Cait ready to grab you and shove her into every decorated crevice of her house. Cassandra Kiramman was far more blunt about keeping your group out of the way than Ambessa, gifting a whole wing of the house to your antics. There stood possibly every person aged 20-26 that Caitlyn had ever looked at in her life. Your inner circle were lounging, glittery and already a bit pissed, around a fucking conversation pit sofa. An actual, real inbuilt one. Nothing mattered for the two hours or so, cocktails and canapes shoved down you as you listened to Ekko explaining some physics thing that made you feel like an Egyptian having their brain removed.

A girl, tanned with glossy blonde hair, had been making eyes at you for the better part of an hour and you were beginning to crumble under the pressure. She was hot, sure, but she wasn't her. Though, another few glasses down, you realised that might be a good thing.

“Talk to her,” Viktor whispered, poking you in the side with his cane. Jayce showed his enthusiastic agreement through a scotch egg, making himself choke.

Your version of the heimlich manoeuvre was to smack him as Ekko did the actual heimlich, before swaying up to the pretty girl batting her lashes.

To say she was bored would have been the understatement of the century for Ambessa. Cassandra was less prone to recreational drugs and sordid corners, leaving her to discuss carpet swatches with Jayce’s mother. She was a kind woman, entirely not to Ambessa’s taste and the removal of the youngsters meant she couldn’t bother you. Or watch you from across every damn room you existed in. There wasn’t enough Moet to drown out the drivel and by quarter to eleven she was slinking away to find her drunk children.

Cadence, you had learned her name was, was an angel. Bubbly, bright and tipsy, she made for a fantastic conversation partner. It was lame to ponder how you hadn’t even considered anyone other than Ambessa romantically, so you let her touch your arm fondly and press herself into your side on the armchair. She studied psychology at Durham and would soon be going to America for a work placement. What’s the psychology of searching for your best friend’s mother in every crowded room, you wondered? She was talking your ear off when your eyes found the very woman in your mind.

Ambessa did not feel angry. It was a slight twinge, too much carbonation, a high pitched thrum against her sternum. What a pretty little blonde, all cosied close and eating up all your attention. How lovely for you. This is what parties were for, a fantastic meet cute to tell the grandkids. Shut up. Your face was relaxed, glossy lips parted in an easy smile. It wasn’t the same as the smile she caused of course, less genuine, less involuntary. She could tell, there wasn’t the slightest twitch to your cheek, and your posture was distant, eyes elsewhere. Eyes on..oh. Eyes on her. A slow wave, pulling her smile from you as you attempted poorly to split focus. You looked sinful, lent against a leather armchair with smooth, soft legs crossed. Images flashed through Ambessa, her head between your thighs as your nails gripped the leather for dear life or you curled in her lap rambling as she peppered your face with lipsticked kisses. A half hearted swallow, her mind a desperate tailspin of lust, jealousy and the unnamed other. Her hand rose slightly, golden eyes drilling into you as a hand began to subtly call you over.

Sharp, angry nails sliced into her wrist, killing the summons.

Mel stood, a sickly smile on her face, crushing her mother’s wrist.

“Hello, Dear,” Ambessa smiled, fighting the twitch of her brow, “Was coming looking for you little wolves,”

“Can you come to the loo with me,” Mel said, tipsy slur in her voice, “These heels are fucking my ankles,”

WIth a nod, taking most of her body weight, she wandered off to the bathroom with her daughter. It was dark blue, much like the kitchen and the library and the Kiramman child’s hair, causing a giggle from Ambessa.

Once the heavy metal lock clinked shut, she lent against the door with her eyes averted. Several beats passed with no noise save their breath.

“Are you going to piss or what child?”

“What the fuck is your problem?” Sadness, fury, resentment all rolled into one. Her beautiful hair was a halo for her anger, body a brick wall of frustration.

“Excuse me?” It was a scoff, muscled arms crossed, “Did I not help you here?”

“Why won’t you leave her alone, Mum,” Mel stood toe to toe with her, dark eyes blazing, “She’s listened and tried and is taking all the shit I give her, but you,”

A lecture was coming, stormy and vicious, one Ambessa may not survive. Here she thought it was girly toilet bonding time. No, you had interloped into another part of her life.

“You,” She repeated, “Continue on like she’s one of your little things, like I haven’t said anything at all,”

“I resent that,” Ambessa said, frown on her lips, “I’ve been civil and supportive, but distant just like you asked,”

“Distant in the way the iceberg was to the Titanic,” Mel snapped, swaying slightly. “Do you want to destroy her? Destroy me?”

“Mel, I-”

“I gave you rules for a reason, and you just don’t give a shit, do you?” Her hands were waving about wildly now, “You can’t bear being told no, respecting boundaries, listening to others,”

“I thought I was doing as you asked, Child,” Her words were thunderous, form shaking with a terror Mel could not see. She was too close for comfort, a dog sniffing a trail she did not want followed.

“Bullshit!” Mel’s thoughts were a slurry, a piece of the puzzle missing, “You gaze at her in every room, you touch her whenever you can, you steal any time with her you can get and-”

“That is enough,” Her lungs were beginning to ache, palms sweaty, “I do not need to be lectured by you again over insecure, inflated claims,”

“You don’t get to tell me to be quiet, Mother,” She spat, “Explain yours-” Oh. Oh. Everything stilled, the picture shifting till it clicked. She had all the pieces, of course she did, she’d just confused a middle piece for a harmless corner component.

Ambessa’s relief at her daughter’s sudden silence was crushed like a nut between a novelty nutcracker.

“You’re in love with her,” Check.

“I-” She had named it before even Ambessa could, damned insufferable child, always too clever for her own good, her resistance a very confirmation “How ridiculous,” And Mate.

Mel’s body shook with mirth, “You fell in love with my best friend,”

“You are drunk and far more stupid than I gave you credit for,”

“So what if I am drunk,” Her movements were looser now, “I’m right and You’re scared,”

“I don’t get scared,”

“I would have agreed, twenty minutes ago, but now?” Mel’s eyes met the minute tremor in her mother’s hands.

Ambessa’s hand grips the cold, golden lock, body turning away as she let out an angry grunt.

A repetition, cold and grounding, halted her “You fell in love with my best friend”

It felt so lovely to hear, to know, to feel. Awful to examine, gutting her like a prize salmon. This was the worst evening of Ambessa Medarda’s life. She was at odds here, pulled in terrible directions. The horrible, sordid truth was undeniable, complicating a messy story by adding an Act Three twist of predictable but no less epic proportions. Her daughter’s eyes were steady and stern despite her sway, any battle she put forward dissolving into sparks against Mel’s measured smile. Vulnerability was the only way forward, resistance gone, a mother’s love twisting her tongue towards painful truths, “I-I didn’t plan to, darling,”

It fell on deaf ears, “And she is in love with you right back,”

“Unfortunately,” Ambessa choked, body tight.

Mel sat precariously on the bathtub, pulling a miniature from between her boobs and downing it, “This simplifies things,”

“It does?”

A loud knock, and indistinct whining from behind the door.

“Fuck off, There are twenty two toilets in this house” Mel shouted, flicking the empty bottle into the tiny bin, before turning back to her, “And yes, yes it does,”

“Do enlighten me,” She snarked, wondering if she could magically summon tequila from her own chest.

“Love I can begrudgingly figure out, it matters,” Her teeth kissed her tongue, “But what do you offer her?”

“Sorry?” Words were precious currency to Ambessa at present, unable to grapple with the situation she had stumbled into.

“She makes you an infinitely better person, whilst assimilating to your lifestyle,” A heavy breath, “But you’re an older, emotionally impotent bitch with a history of ruining every romantic relationship you’ve ever been in,”

Jesus fucking Christ. “Are you hazing me in the Kiramman’s bathroom about my eligibility?”

“Yes,” Mel quipped, “Someone has to, if you’re going to start dating,”

“I never said I have any intention of doing such a thing,” Ambessa growled, “She’s over twenty years my junior, and your friend,”

A giggle, “You didn’t give a shit about either of those things when you were fucking her,”

“Well that’s,”

“Different, is it? Why?”

“This is ridiculous, I don’t have to listen to this,”

“You do, if you want to keep a relationship with me,”

“Are you going to lord that over my head for the rest of my life?” A crimson sneer deepened, “Isn’t it tiresome?”

“What’s tiresome is you being avoidant,” Mel glared at her, arms crossing, “Selfish? Manipulative? Common tools of the Medarda trade, but this cowardly denial is embarrassing,”

“I am not a coward,” It was a sudden burst, body rushing forward to meet hers.

“Prove it then, you idiot,” A nail stabbed into Ambessa’s chest, “Prove that it’s real, that you can offer her more than money and sex,”

“But why?” Her mouth was dry, “What’s your goal here?”

“I want to see you happy,” She sighed, level gaze eating Ambessa’s soul, “The woman before me is entirely new, better than I thought possible, if it takes encouraging this to keep her then I’ll write your damn love notes for you,”

“We are not having this conversation now,” Sense returned, sludgy and damp, dirtied by her emotions, “We will have it sober, at some point tomorrow,”

“You’re not pushing this away,” The nail dug deeper, “It’s now or never, tell me why I should let you date my best friend,”

Ambessa’s mind was a dark red blanket of rage and panic, hand crushing around her daughter’s wrist, “What do you want from me?”

“Say anything!”

“Like WHAT? Like I miss the weight of her on my chest as I sleep, the relief of knowing she’s safe,” She was shaking, a furious animal fighting against a certain fate, “Or th-that she makes me want to be the better version of myself that she sees, just to keep that smile on her stupid, soft fucking face,”

Mel’s hand moved upwards and reached out, a tender stroke on her mother’s cheek, “Perfect, Mum,”

With that it seemed she had deemed the interaction over, leaving her stunned and rabid as she slipped out of the blue room in search of Jayce, or Viktor, or most likely both.

You were struggling to socialise now, brain lagging against the alcohol and noise, longing for the quiet weed fuelled haze of the Medarda games room. Cadence had clocked your distant lack of interest before you did, wandering off and leaving you with a rambling Powder. Her and Ekko truly were a match made in heaven. It was nearly midnight and the party was so vibrant your eyes ached.

Time to hide, time to be anti-social. Nobody to kiss, nobody you wanted to anyway.

Confusing corridors, long and ornate, as you slipped under a secluded marble staircase. Deep, soothing breaths, the darker lighting a balm.

Ambessa found that splashing her face with cold water was doing absolutely nothing. A dam she could not rebuild had burst and it was merciless, yearning for one thing and one thing alone. You were a siren, sent to kill her, sent to punish her. You were an angel, her salvation. Uncertain steps stormed out of the room, wandering aimlessly towards the party.

The countdown, though far away now, was as audible as if Vi was screaming in your ear.

What an odd year to be seeing the back of, everything changed and everything the same.

Glitter coated your skin as you made your resolution, firm and sure.

You would move on from Ambessa Medarda, even if it killed you. She would not follow you into this new chapter.

You emptied your champagne glass, peace settling in you.

Ambessa flung the door open, hinges trembling, as she looked down the long corridor.

Countdown time already? How long had she spent in that fucking bathroom?

The fabric of her trousers swished as she slipped towards the staircase, seeking a darker solace.

A resolution, a stupid tradition, a propeller forward. She would tell you how she felt, even if it killed her.

Shocked eyes lock, room spinning, dark alcove shielding them from reality.

Time slows. A war fought valiantly, lost to the hazy fog. Clashing, hungry, yearning lips. Red on smooth gloss. Hair tugged, breath stolen.

Happy New Year!

#reader insert #ambessa medarda #ambessa x reader #arcane ambessa #arcane #ambessa smut

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