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wild-typo-turtle · 1 day ago

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Threads - Part 11

Explicit (slow burn, 18+ only) - Rings of Power - Gil-galad x OFC (Elf)

Includes S2E8 of Rings of Power - spoilers ahoy!

Gil-galad had only taken a handful of steps when his gaze passed over yet another collapsed building. From the looks of things, it had once been an open, airy shop that had faced directly into the plaza. The roof had caved in, creating dusty shadows, and even his keen eyes might have missed the slumped figure had he not heard the tiny whimper from the darkness.

Eregion has been destroyed; Sauron is gone. And yet, the sun still shines, as the ruined city holds the last thing that High King Gil-galad had ever expected to find.

Themes: #Idiots in love, #love at first sight, #soulmates, #smut with feelings, #fix-it, #everybody lives

Content Warnings: Explicit content (parts 9 and 11), canon-typical violence; loss of parents; grief/mourning. This chapter also contains very light smut.

Tag List: @morganas-pendragons, @stellar-solar-flare, @the141bandicoot; @inyx-writes44, @melmel-fandom, @hufflepufferine, @shadows-and-flowers, @xcrybaby555x, @bespectacledhuman

Face claim: Keri Russell as Linnea

Part 1 (includes A/N and credits), Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9 (contains smut), Part 10

A/N: Well, I'm sorry everyone - I know I promised the wedding for the next chapter, but the file hit 10k and the flow was terrible, and so the first part is what you're getting now. I still plan to get the actual wedding out this week, likely Friday or Saturday! Thanks for your patience and I hope you enjoy this chapter. -WTT

Part 11

The afternoon sun bathed the weaving room, painting it in shades of soft, hazy pink and gold. The fabrics on the looms shone in the light; Linnea was working a white velvet on the velvet loom, and on the regular loom, she was just beginning a new test fabric in shades of grey. The sunlight turned it brighter, almost purple; she was mixing linen and wool for a soft, easy drape. And if she was successful with the charms she had planned, it would be a pattern she would share with the weavers that helped clothe the army.

Her eyes anxiously passed over it. Her hands, idle now, twitched to work, to let out the nervous energy that filled her.

But this day was not a day for weaving.

Adabes and the servants had done their work well. All was in readiness; a sideboard had been moved into the room, and was laid with fruit and bread and cheese and various other refreshments. Wine had been set out, as well as water flavored with mint and lemon. The weaving room itself was immaculately clean, all of the tools and supplies neatly put away, all of the scraps of fabric and ends of threads swept up.

A book sat on the table next to her, but she barely recalled the title. She had brought it to distract herself while she waited, but she might as well not have taken the trouble. There was no distraction possible.

Fortunately, she did not have to wait for long.

A stamp on the landing alerted her to the first of the arrivals, and her ears strained for a hint as to who it might be. She heard heavy boots, grunts -

A fist thumped on the door, and it swung inward.

“The Princess Disa, of the Dwarven realm of Khazad-dûm.”

Linnea rose, and as she did so, the princess stepped into the weaving room.

She was dressed in light grey, a silken fabric that flowed around her figure and draped in a way that made Linnea want to examine the weaving much more closely. And there was gold upon her everywhere: a heavy gold pectoral necklace with triangular pendants dangling from it, as well as gold bracelets, gold beads upon her gown, and even gold paint staining her thick dark hair and her fingers.

Linnea wondered if such a thing had ever happened before. Disa’s husband, Prince Durin, had met and treated with Gil-galad. But had there ever been a meeting of an Elven queen and a Dwarf princess? If there had, it had surely been hundreds of years ago.

Disa stopped after a few steps, and she curtseyed deeply as the door shut behind her.

“Lady Linnea,” she said. “On behalf of all Khazad-dûm, I thank you for welcoming me into your halls.”

It had been a careful plan that they had made together, herself and Gil-galad, debating various strategies for how they might receive the most important of their guests. They had considered a more formal dinner for this last night before the wedding, but had eventually settled on separate, more casual affairs, Linnea with the women and Gil-galad with the men. Even now, he was likely greeting Prince Durin, as well as the Elven lords that had also arrived in the last two days.

She supposed she should be grateful that there were fewer women for her to manage. Oropher had brought his queen, and his son had come as well, but Thranduil was not yet wed. And the lord of Lórien’s wife had perished some time ago. She had extended the invitation to Commander Galadriel, and to the commander of the Eastern Armies as well, but all told, she would not be working as hard as Gil-galad.

And with that thought, part of her regretted the other decision that they had made concerning that evening.

She would not go to him that night. They would not take their tea together; they would not discuss their days; there would be no shared pleasure. They would stay and sleep apart, this final night. They would rise separately and prepare for the wedding, and only once they were ready would they see each other again.

She knew her bed would feel empty without him. It had been easy to grow accustomed to his warmth next to her, the sound of his soft breath as he slept. But it added weight, if any needed to be added, that this was the very last night she would sleep alone.

And besides that, it was probably a good idea to stay apart, after what had happened the previous night. After how near she had come to be standing there, greeting the Princess Disa, as a married woman.

It is the second time Ereinion has done this. The first had had her nearly cracking her own spine in half at the feel of his tongue between her legs. And while that first time had been pleasurable beyond belief, it is even better now; with repetition comes perfection, and she lies there moaning and incoherent as he tastes her. Her slender legs are over his broad shoulders and his hand teases, two fingers slowly slipping in and out of her in rhythm with his lips and tongue.

And once she’s had her pleasure, he slides up her body for a deep kiss. Neither of them is wearing much at all, and he’s on top of her, and her thighs are tight around his hips, and it would be so easy.

So easy.

He looks into her eyes, and a word from her would shatter his resolve - what is left of it. She looks back at him, and a word from him would shatter hers.

And perhaps that knowing, that unwillingness to speak it but willingness to accept it, is what stops them in the end. What has him rolling off of her, wrapping trembling arms around her trembling self, holding her until the fire ebbs a little and they both have their breath back.

It is not much longer to wait.

She drew in a breath, and made her own curtsey to Disa, whose eyes widened at the movement.

“Princess,” Linnea murmured. “You are most welcome, and I thank you for gracing my hall with your company.”

As they took each other's measure, she found that she liked the look of this Disa. Elrond had returned late last night, with Disa and Durin accompanying him; this was the first sight Linnea had had of the Dwarf princess. She had met more Dwarves than most Elves, due to the merchants that had frequented Eregion, and their ways were not so strange to her. There was a strength about the princess that ran as deep as the mountain she called home; she could be a formidable ally, if the seeds that Linnea was planting eventually bore fruit.

Disa smiled, folding her hands in front of her. “My husband may have made his grand protests, but he understood the honor you showed us with the invitation. If he'd kept saying no, I would have dragged him here by his beard. And he would have thanked me for it in the end.”

Linnea laughed; the words conjured an image of herself doing the same with Gil-galad, only by his hair. She wasn't at all sure she'd win that fight, although it might be rather amusing to attempt it.

“Please,” she urged. “Help yourself to refreshment, if you like. I am sure you must be tired from the journey.”

Disa needed no further encouragement. She made her way to the sideboard, looking appreciatively at the array of food that was laid out. “We did keep a fast pace. No time to spare, to get here in time. And we'll be needing to head home again as soon as the wedding is over.”

Linnea nodded. She could guess the reasoning behind it, the maneuvering for the throne that they had heard whispers of even in Lindon. Gil-galad’s thought to use their wedding as a message, inviting the prince and throwing their support behind the candidate most friendly to Elves, had been a sound one. Part of her disliked that they had to consider such things, but the rest of her knew that that was the life she had chosen. Almost everything would be political now.

“Then I shall do everything I can to ensure you enjoy your time here,” she said, smiling as Disa took a plate and began heaping it full.

“You've certainly made a good start,” the princess said, popping a piece of cheese in her mouth. “A full stomach goes a long way to ensuring a smooth road.”

Linnea chuckled again. Now that this first greeting was over, her nervousness was beginning to settle down, and she felt confident enough to join Disa at the sideboard and pour herself a glass of wine. She watched as the princess turned, starting to glance around the room even as she ate, and her heart fluttered with pride at the look on Disa’s face. The Dwarf woman was impressed.

Her eyes landed on the frame loom, and she let out a satisfied sound. “I knew I'd like you when Elrond said you were a weaver,” she said, beginning to walk to the loom. “Do ye know what it's going to be yet?”

Linnea nodded, walking over to join Disa at the loom. “If all goes well, it will become the pattern for a cloak for Lindon's armies. It is something my mother was very gifted at - laying protective charms on the threads. I learned much from her.”

Disa's brows lifted, and the impressed look was back on her face. “I thought I could feel something from it. There's a sort of vibration, isn't there?”

Linnea knew that other Elves could feel the art to varying degrees, depending on their sensitivity. Most would have at least a feeling of safety and protection. But to actually sense the charms at work? She could do it, especially if it was the art of someone she knew well, like her mother and father. So could other weavers. But a Dwarf?

She groped for words, stunned almost beyond speech. “How is it you can feel it?” she managed.

Disa smiled, satisfied to be affirmed. “We Stone Singers use our voices to resonate with the mountain that is our home. Aulë granted us the gift to sing to the rock so that we may take from it properly and know where best to leave it undisturbed. This fabric has a song of its own, for those with the ear to hear it.”

A thousand questions leapt to Linnea's mind. If she had had her way, she would have spent every moment until the wedding the next day interrogating Disa about what exactly a Stone Singer was and what resonating meant. A fancy crossed her thoughts of arranging a visit to Khazad-dûm; the logistics and politics of an Elven queen visiting the Dwarves were second to wanting to witness this stone singing for herself.

But then Disa hummed.

Linnea felt the fabric come to life at the sound, as brief as it was. The charms she had laid so far were subtle, more experimentation than anything else. But at the sound of Disa’s voice, the intensity increased tenfold; she could feel the faint protections even without touching the fabric. The magic radiated off the cloth, rolling off it in waves.

Disa’s eyes had gone wide. She could feel it too.

All thoughts of propriety fled from Linnea’s head. She rushed to the loom, laying her hands on the fabric, the better to feel what was happening.

“Forgive me, my lady,” Disa was stammering. “I did not know - “

“No.” Linnea was running her hands over the cloth, only half-hearing. “No, do that again…please…”

Disa hesitated, but finally did as asked. She hummed again, louder that time, and there was more effort behind it. The hum had dimension, and the fabric responded accordingly; it was like sunlight striking a piece of crystal, scattering rainbows in all different directions.

She couldn’t help the smile, the grin that came to her lips, as the hum faded. She turned to Disa standing next to her, and the look between them transcended any and all difference between Elf and Dwarf.

There was another strike upon the door.

“Queen Tinnaril, of the Woodland Realm.”

Linnea straightened up, trying to calm her expression. The weaver in her grumbled at the interruption, wanting to ask Disa to hum again, perhaps even sing - and the rest of her laughed at that part, that she could even think of wanting a queen to leave her alone.

But she was a queen now, too. Or would be, by this same time tomorrow.

Tinnaril came through the door, her face betraying nothing of her thoughts - not even when she saw Disa standing by Linnea’s side at the loom. The queen of the Greenwood was of a height with Linnea herself; they were Sindar kin, smaller and shorter than their Noldor brethren. Tinnaril’s hair was icy blonde, the same as both her husband and her son, and her leaf-green eyes were shuttered as they swept about the room.

She was clad plainly. Oropher had desired to live a simpler existence than the rest of the Sindar and the Noldor, and his followers had merged with the Silvan elves of the Greenwood many years ago. Tinnaril’s gown was a sage green fabric, without embroidery or jewels; the cut fit her well, and she wore a filigreed silver circlet, but otherwise there was nothing to suggest that she was royalty.

Linnea had known such, and had dressed carefully for the day so as not to make Tinnaril feel uncomfortable or annoyed. Her gown was one of the simplest she owned now, a dusky lavender with only a small amount of gold detailing around the cuffs and the neck, and she had bade Pendes forgo any jewels in her hair. The only concession she had made to ornament was the thin gold circlet tucked in her curls.

Tinnaril had stopped a few steps from the door, and she carefully folded her hands in front of her. “Forgive me for the interruption,” she said, her voice even and calm. “I was unaware you were occupied, Lady Linnea.”

“No - of course not, you do not interrupt.” Linnea moved away from the loom, extending her hands. “Be welcome, my lady. And thank you for making the journey.”

Slowly, Tinnaril took the offered greeting. Her hands were cool and smooth in Linnea’s; she squeezed for precisely the correct amount of time, and then released.

Oropher and Tinnaril had arrived two days ago, and since then, Tinnaril had kept to herself. Linnea had sent messages of welcome, invitations to meet, but all of them had gone unanswered save this one. She wondered if Tinnaril had only come now out of a feeling of obligation. She had asked Gil-galad to tell her of the queen, that she might know what to expect, but he had had as little to offer as Arondir all those months ago.

I am sorry, melethel. I have met her seldom, and she spoke but few words. She lives apart from court.

Linnea had known that from Arondir, but had still shaken her head in amazement, wondering how such could be. She could not imagine wanting to live apart from Gil-galad, and he had smiled when she had said so.

Nor I you. May the Valar grant that it is always so between us, my love.

Tinnaril was still standing there just looking at her, and Linnea fumbled for words. “Queen Tinnaril, this is Princess Disa, of Khazad-dûm. She and her husband Prince Durin are great friends of Lord Elrond.”

“I see.”

Disa made another curtsey - although Linnea noticed that it was much shallower than the one the princess had given to her. “Your Grace.”

Tinnaril raised one thin blonde brow, making no move to return any sort of gesture, and Linnea fought the urge to gulp. There had been conflict between Oropher’s people and the Dwarves of Khazad-dûm; Oropher had moved his rule ever northward to avoid the expansion of the Dwarf realm. Linnea had counted on the goodwill of the wedding keeping things civil - as indeed it had, with helping to mend the rift between Durin and Elrond after Eregion.

Perhaps this had been too much to ask, as she beheld the chill in Tinnaril’s eyes. But on the other hand, she wasn’t leaving.

“Do you practice a craft, my lady?” she asked, desperately trying to find words to fill the silence. “I believe you are aware I am a weaver. Princess Disa and I were just speaking of her art as well - she is what the Dwarves call a Stone Singer. I was not familiar with such.“

Disa nodded eagerly; clearly she felt the tension in the room as much as Linnea did. For a moment, Linnea appreciated the ludicrousness of the situation; she was more allied with a Dwarf princess than a queen of her own kind.

“It isn’t spoken of much outside of our own people,” Disa said. “The work of the Stone Singers is sacred. We safeguard the mountain, and in return, it allows us to call it our home.”

Tinnaril’s lip curled slightly. “Your work has borne fruit, it would seem. We hear the ceaseless noise of Khazad-dûm throughout the Woodland Realm.”

Linnea’s throat tightened again, and her heart sank. Gil-galad had been working so hard to forge an alliance with Oropher; the Woodland Elves were proud and distant, those ties were as fragile as the finest-spun silk. This couldn’t be helping matters at all; for all she knew, she was not just breaking those thin threads but setting them aflame.

She had been shocked before. She had spent most of the last months in a state of disbelief. But what Tinnaril did next outstripped it all.

The Woodland queen turned, and Linnea's heart sank even further; she hadn’t thought that that was possible. She could feel Disa’s worried eyes on her as Tinnaril walked back towards the door, and she tried to think of something to say, anything -

Tinnaril swung the door open, and she leaned out to catch the attention of the guards outside.

“Send to my rooms,” she commanded. “Fetch my harp. The brown leather case, near the hearth.”

Linnea stared. Disa stared.

The door swung closed again, and Tinnaril turned back to face them.

“I have lived with Dwarven noise all my days,” she said firmly. “If I must continue to be subjected to it, I would know whether there is any pleasantry to be had. My craft is my music, Lady Linnea, and if the princess consents to it, we shall make some together.”

Linnea turned slowly to Disa, who looked as stunned as she herself felt. The princess could not manage words; she simply nodded.

Tinnaril’s lip curled again. But this time, there was warmth to it.

“Very well.”

It was long hours later when Linnea finally sat at her dressing table, letting Pendes comb out her hair.

They had indeed made music. She herself could sing well enough, although nothing compared to Disa, but had no skill with an instrument. And so she had been content to watch and listen, and weave a little, as the queen and the princess had passed the hours in song. Galadriel had come by, as well as a few others, and they had enjoyed the music and refreshments. But none had remained for very long.

It had reminded her of her parents’ shop, on those occasions when they had hosted musicians. The fabrics had seemed to weave themselves of their own accord, with the distraction of the melodies. And Taucion had had a fine voice; he had often sung along as they worked.

The memories still hurt, a little. But they also reminded her - as had the afternoon - that she had the opportunity to make new memories. She could invite singers and musicians to her rooms, to spend the afternoon with the weavers.

Pendes finished and bowed, and Linnea turned. Lavan was just coming in from her nightly circuit of Linnea's rooms, and she shifted to be able to look at them both.

“Is all ready for the morning?”

Lavan nodded. “Yes, my lady. We will arrive at the normal hour.”

The feast was set to begin at midday; her normal rising time would be ample to prepare. Her dress was hung carefully to air out, and really, there was little enough to do that was not part of her regular routine.

She smiled at Lavan. “Very well. Then I bid you both goodnight.”

They bowed and left, and Linnea rose from the dressing table, slowly wandering back into the main room. It would be early to retire to bed, but perhaps it was a sound notion? The following day would be long and busy.

And the following night.

Her cheeks heated, as she settled herself by the fire, lacking anything else to do. She cast a glance to the side; she had her own kettle, and could have easily prepared tea for herself, but it was not the same any more. Evening tea was no longer solitary, it was a shared time, and the idea of drinking it alone seemed sad somehow.

There was a small stack of books on the hearthside table, and she glanced over them. She had been reading the works of Pengolodh, last of the Loremasters, in an effort to learn more about the history of the Noldor. But as captivating as the words were, having enough focus to read seemed the height of fancy.

Melethel.

That candle slowly lit in her heart, the one she'd become more used to feeling now. It was always there, banked and softly burning, but it came to life each time Ereinion reached out to her. She had an easier time hearing him than he did her as of yet, but that would come in time.

She smiled at the sound of his voice in her mind, settling back in her chair and closing her eyes. Meleth nín.

Was your afternoon enjoyable?

More than I had dared hope. She summoned a memory of Tinnaril and Disa together, experimenting with what Tinnaril had admitted was one of her own original compositions. It had been just the three of them at that point, Linnea at the loom, and it had gladdened her heart to see the differences between Elf and Dwarf put aside in the name of creating something beautiful. And she felt Ereinion’s happiness as he beheld it. And yours, aran vuin?

This time she felt him sigh; felt a touch of the weariness on him. As well as could be expected. Oropher is proud. He lost no opportunity to jab at Durin. I am grateful Elrond was there to mediate, otherwise I might have exiled them both from Lindon permanently.

Linnea laughed softly, her eyes still closed. I am sorry I was not there with you.

You had your own work to do, my love. And by your account, you accomplished it admirably. There was a pause. I miss you. I cannot recall why we thought being apart tonight was a good idea, but I regret it now.

Do you think to tempt me to come to you? She chuckled again, letting him feel the warmth his words brought to her. We seem to have found a way around it, even so.

There was an answering chuckle, an answering warmth. I do not. I shall hold to our agreement. But perhaps…

There had been no specific images in her mind up till then, except for the memory of the prior afternoon. But a scent reached her nose, the scent of growing things and wildflowers, and there was a warmth all over her skin - as if she were outside in the sun.

And finally, she could see it, fading in from the dark behind her eyes.

It was the field she’d taken him to, that afternoon after his training session. They were lying on the same blanket, in the same position; Ereinion’s head was in her lap, and her hand was gently stroking through his hair.

“I think of this day so often,” he murmured. “How it was unlike anything I had ever experienced before.”

She smiled. The ósanwe had grown so strong; it was as if they were really there. She could hear the chirping of the birds and the buzz of the crickets. Ereinion's hair was like silk beneath her fingers, just as if she were really touching it.

“You had never laid in a field after a picnic before?”

She was teasing him, and he smiled up at her, reaching for her free hand and bringing it to his lips.

“I had never laid in a field with my wife,” he said softly. “I had never set my sword down after training, only to see my wife coming to me with a laden picnic basket. I had never felt so loved, melethel - until the next day, and the one after that, and the one after that. All the days since that very first, you have given me more love than the one before. I can only hope I do the same for you.”

She took their entwined hands and nestled them against his chest, right over his heart. “You need not wonder that for an instant,” she murmured.

He sighed contentedly, closing his eyes, not speaking. She ran her fingers over the back of his hand, letting him enjoy the peace for a few moments before she spoke again.

“Are you ready for tomorrow?”

His lips curved. “More than I have ever been, for anything,” he said softly, eyes still closed. “I feel that I have prepared for this all my days. Even the night before my coronation, so long ago - I did not feel such. I had never expected to be High King. And it was a hurried affair, with war raging, and my chief concern was to have it done with.”

“I wish I could have been there,” she said, stroking her hand through his hair again.

“I do not.” His brow creased, remembering. “As much as I would have been glad of you, melethel. It was a hard time, and our people lost much. I would not have lost you as well.”

There was a catch in his voice. She had a guess as to its source, especially given the direction that their conversation had gone. His sister Finduilas, taken captive by orcs while he had still been a child during the Wars of Beleriand, and ultimately slain.

She squeezed the hand she held, and pushed out through the ósanwe, lighting her own candle in his heart to give him comfort.

“You never shall,” she whispered. “After tomorrow, we will never be parted, not truly.”

Her words brought the smile back to his lips, and he squeezed her hand back. “And you, melethel? Are you ready?”

In answer, she bent, pressing her lips to his. They might have been in a vision, in a place conjured by the ósanwe that was not real, but the kiss was no less warm nor loving for it. She felt him holding her hand tighter to his heart, returning her kiss, and nuzzling against her nose as she released his mouth.

“Yes,” she said simply. “I am.”

It was all she could say, and all that needed to be said. It drove the last of the long-ago shadows from his eyes, and he reached up, running his thumb over her cheekbone.

“I am grateful for this time with you, but we should not remain here long,” he murmured. “It is not so taxing when we are so close. But I would not have you tire yourself tonight, not when tomorrow holds so much for us.”

She could feel it - just a slight drag inside her, a faint pull on her fëa. It was worth it, to have had even a few moments, and also worth it to know that this sort of an interlude was even possible. There might be times in the future when they would have to be apart, when this would be the only way they could be together.

But it felt so good to be with him. This memory was precious to her too, and it was so calming, sitting here with her back against the tree. It soothed the restlessness she’d been feeling; after this, she could rest, and wake refreshed to everything that the next day would bring.

“Let us stay a little longer,” she said softly, and was rewarded by his smile. “Just a little longer, meleth nín.”

TBC....

#rings of power #gil galad #gil-galad #trop fanfiction #gil-galad x ofc #the rings of power #fanfic #fanfiction #fix it fic #fix it au

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possum-quesadilla · 15 hours ago

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Chapter 10 of Lonely Remnants, “Wildfires have been eating you inside my head, Trying to smoke you out or burn you alive in it”, is here! Strap in, folks. I can’t tell you how excited I am to share this one with you all.

PLEASE READ THE TRIGGER WARNINGS ATTACHED TO THIS CHAPTER AND PROCEED WITH CAUTION. THIS CHAPTER IS PARTICULARLY ROUGH. I KNOW I SAW THAT A LOT, BUT IT IS VERY TRUE HERE.

Extras! :)

- The lyrics for this chapter’s title are from “Please Just Stay Dead” by Nichole Dollanganger! They are meant to reflect how Lydia’s image of her bold, strong brother is being irreparably altered, maybe even ruined.

- “Like a doomed man trudging towards the gallows, sure but unsteady. Like a dead girl walking.” - Heheh, foreshadowing.

- “The trail led into the road. It ended on the other side, next to the memorial. Not before it was… smeared on the road. Splattered all about, like the cause of it had been… impacted. Her fears were confirmed when she found one of those strange paw / feet among the large, dark smudge of blood and goop in the road.” - Yep, they got hit by a car! Karma, I guess.

- “It was… feasting on some festering roadkill with a terribly feral and manic fervor.” - That was Lawrence’s last ditch effort to try and regain control and heal their body.

- “The side of his face the ear had fallen off of seemed to be following suit. It was starting to turn to the goop and slough off, part of the flesh hanging limply off the cheek and exposing his blackened, cracked jawbone.” - While the whole rejection idea is based on the ending of “Bride of Re-Animator”, this particularly horrific mental image is based on an effect from “Smile 2” that really stuck with me!

- “His dad and twin loved him, but it… it weren’t enough to counter the hatred of his mother.” - Lawrence’s accent fades away as the Shoggoth talks more and gains more control as he gets weaker.

- “Lousy bum’s been drinkin’ since he were ten years old.” - Not by choice! But the Shoggoth is being really judgy regardless.

- “Joined a band, saw the country, got his wrist broken by a boyfriend.” - Band mention! There’s a whole bunch of fun lore surrounding them that lives in my head. Also, the rotten boyfriend who broke his wrist was Cyrus! Can’t escape that fella.

- “It suddenly reached up, placing a hand over the left side of it’s face, covering up the exposed bone and one of it’s eyes.” - This was it trying to stop it’s face from falling apart more. It didn’t work.

- “Mrs. D helped him fix himself. Clean up all the broken pieces ‘n make somethin’ outta them.” - A reference to “Dead Mom”!

- “Of all of the moments in his long drive, of all of the cars he passed, he had to hit the one containing two of the people he loved most.” - This bit was inspired by a similar moment in the movie “Signs”.

- “She remained still as the grave.” - heheh, more foreshadowing.

- “No, Scarecrow. You died too.” - Woof. There’s been hints throughout. Hell, even in the start of the first chapter! - “She was the lucky one. By some miracle, she made it out with only some minor head trauma and the loss of a substantial amount of her hearing.” - I even put “Living Dead Girl” on the Lonely Remnants playlist for this purpose, lol.

- “ “I haven’t been very truthful at all.” It’s fingers brushed over the scales dotting it’s nose.” - Every time it lied, it gained a snake scale, since snakes represent deceit.

- “We are… human suffering, given form. Anguish and agony, writhing deep below the earth. I am of Lawrence’s. Of all the pain and hurt he felt.” - Yeah sorry it was a metaphor for trauma and self repression this whole time. Mostly. Also, this is what Otho meant when he said “… always were the most… potent out of all of us, little brother.”

- “No more watchin’, no more peepin’, and…” - This is a reference to “Bigtop Burger”. I couldn’t help myself. Cesare was my main inspiration for the Shoggoth.

- “… I could always feel him, faintly, in the back of my mind. Breathing in the dark.” - GOTCHA WITH ANOTHER “Asteroid City” REFERENCE!

- “I… I am just a beast of the stony soil.” - This is inspired by a famous line from “Pet Sematary”, which inspired Lonely Remnants! It’s the first horror story I read at eight years old, lol.

Tag list: @raineisinkless @c0zmo-writes @musical-fiend @katslitterbox

(Want to be tagged in future updates for CorpseJuice / LoopJuice? Let me know!)

#beetlejuice #beetlejuice fanfic #corpsejuice #lawrence beetlejuice shoggoth #beetlejuice the musical #lydia deetz #barbara maitland #adam maitland #beetlands #beetlelands #shoggoth 88 #lawrence graham #lonely remnants #corpsejuice chapter #corpsejuice extras

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comas-are-for-sleeping · 15 days ago

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anyway do u think deadpool and wolverine is on streaming yet i need to find that on a totally legal website soon

as of saturday night IT IS NOT !!! which sucks and they lied

i know it is on the totally legal website soaper.tv or whatever its called ;)

ok coming back to here after writing all the tags thirty tag limit?? that is wild to me i didnt know that existed

#was like surely it is streaming they said beginning of october #so made plans to watch it w two friends #AND IT WASNT #but we still watched it bc we are not quitters 😤#i doubt it has changed in two days #but idk bc i dont have disney plus or prime #loved the rewatch bc i got to notice a bunch of little details #could not tell you what they were now #except wolverine’s brown and yellow suit #which didnt especially stand out to me before bc i had not read any of the comics yet #also just the. when wolverine is like ‘no actually the silence is worse i need to be able to remember’#BC THAT IS LOWKEY SUCH A PLOTPOINT IN ONE OF THE COMIC ARCS IM READING #krakoa and realiving cannot remember the word for that for the life of me #but then when you get RESSURECTED THATS WHAT IT IS i think maybe traumatic stuff becomes less traumatic #and domino is like. i can never die now bc i need this trauma to stay with me since it is such a part of who i am #but then she dies and wolverine is like ‘hey just making sure youre ok with how you are now’#bc he knew (firsthand) how important memory was #and that forgetting the past is often worse than dealing with the pain #and then the tva agent going ‘we cant fix his world bc thats how he became who he is today’ (her wording was perhaps not great but whatevs)#which was ALSO a thing in wtnv recently lmao??#landfill that you cant put tangible objects in #and only memories you want to forget #and then they had a winter… anti-spring cleaning… sale?#where you could take back one memory #and basically it went: person who got rid of every single bad memory now finds the tiniest things (like snow) horrible and scary #and life ruining. so they pick the worst memory to get back #anyway also something something immortality is a curse #ask #pen and ink #sunsetstarving

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ominouspositivity-or-else · 11 months ago

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every time one of my coworkers opens her mouth about something nice her fiance did for her my standards for men go up

#HE FIXED HER ZEBRA PLUSHIE #MY DUDE DOESNT KNOW HOW TO SEW #HE LOVES HER AND IT WAS RUINED AND HE CLEANED IT AND FIXED IT AND GAVE IT BACK TO HER #WHAT WONDROUS LOVE IS THIS #THAT CAN HOLD SO MUCH KINDNESS #WHAT KIND OF ECHO OF THE HIGHEST KIND?#WHAT KIND OF GLORY LIVES INSIDE OF MAN #THAT HE MIGHT LOVE WITH SUCH POWER #WHAT KIND OF LOVE IS THIS THAT LOVES SO DEEP TO FIX THE SMALLEST THINGS AND PUT IN EFFORT WHEN IT COMES TO STUFFED ZEBRAS #I WANT TO LOVE SOMEONE WHO LOVES ME ENOUGH TO FIX ZEBRAS FOR ME #beauty beyond my comprehension

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augustinewrites · 1 year ago

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“sunflowers or peonies?”

“awe, nanami! i’m flattered—”

“they’re not for you,” nanami says flatly. “you can buy your own.”

shoko squints down at the man lying on her exam table, arm held up and behind his head. “i’m quite literally stitching you back together, you know.”

the blond thinks bitterly on what had landed him in her infirmary in the first place, injured and likely having to reschedule dinner tonight. it’s already well past the time he’d planned on picking you up, and the table he’d reserved at the new restaurant in roppongi has likely been given away.

he’s dreading calling to tell you, his heart already twinging at the idea of letting you down.

shoko stitches him up neatly, cleaning and covering it up with a layer of bandages. she offers him a hand to help him sit up, but he bypasses it to plant his palm against the cot, pushing himself up with a groan.

she rolls her eyes, peeling her gloves off and pulling her mask down, tossing them both into the trash. “clean and dress it at least twice a day. no sudden movements of strenuous activity for at least a week. if you ruin my work, i’ll put you on bedrest.”

she digs through her cabinets as he awkwardly pulls his shirt back on. his mind drifts to you as he does so. he’d lost his phone in the fight, so he hadn’t been able to tell you about cancelling.

he wonders if the pout on your lips is painted your lips that shade of red you’d been wearing when he’d first met you. wonders if you’re waiting wearing the dress he’d gifted you last week.

he’d really wanted to see you in that dress.

nanami sighs heavily as he does up the buttons, prompting shoko to glance over her shoulder at him.

“what’s wrong with you?” she asks, setting a small bottle of painkillers on the tray table next to him.

“i’m missing an important dinner,” he grumbles, wondering if just a bundle sunflowers or peonies from the small stall outside is enough. he should order you a proper bouquet from a shop. perhaps he can also book you a massage or—

a knock at the door interrupts his spiralling.

“oh!” shoko suddenly gasps. she reaches up, brushing a few stray hairs from his forehead and fixing it as best she can.

“what are you doing?” he asks, genuinely confused in this moment.

“you’ll see,” she simply grins, sending him a wink. then, “come in!”

the door to the infirmary opens to reveal…you.

“kento,” you breathe, the quiet click of your heels echoing through the empty room as you quickly walk towards him.

he’s shocked, but lets you carefully wrap your arms around him, cradling his head against your chest.

but before he knows it he’s holding onto you too, breathing in the deep, sweet scent of your perfume and focusing on the steady beat of your heart.

“what are you doing here?” he asks once you finally release him, taking your hands in his.

“shoko called me,” you tell him. “apparently…apparently i’m your emergency contact.”

his face is suddenly hot with embarrassment. he’d honestly forgotten about that. he hadn’t even realized he’d done it when yaga had asked him to update his information with the school. your name had been the first and only name to pop into his mind.

“sorry,” he apologizes quickly, dropping your hands. he jumped the gun, didn’t he? you’ve only been dating for six months… “i should have asked you first but—”

but no one knows me better than you.

a soft sigh slips from your lips as you sit next to him, with a gaze so reverent that it strips him to the bone. “i love you, kento. i will be your emergency contact as long as you want me to be.”

he whispers the words back to you, suddenly shy.

sometimes nanami lets himself slip a little too far into his own head, overthinking and a little insecure. but you’re always there, ready to coax him back into the light.

“you look beautiful,” he murmurs, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. he’s seen you in a lot of dresses, each one making him weak in the knees. but this dress…this one makes it a little hard for him to breathe.

“well, you still owe me a date,” you tell him, helping him up off the cot. “we could go to the ramen place across from my apartment.”

he wraps an arm around your shoulders, and you reach up to intertwine your fingers with his. “i’d go anywhere with you.”

#nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #jjk x reader #nanami fluff #jjk fluff

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pocketbelt · 10 months ago

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they announced one of the main writers for FFXIV: Dawntrail is the one who wrote the Shadowbringers trial series, "Sorrow of Werlyt", and the amount of people going "ew no that's the one that redeems Gaius" drives me kind of insane

That storyline takes Gaius and says "Behold this idiot, watch and be stunned as everything he ever said to anyone turned out to be fucking obviously wrong. Watch as the fascist imperialist philosophy he ingrained into his beloved children makes them run to their deaths, even as he pleads them not to, and they tell him to fuck himself and do it anyway. Marvel as he watches them die by your hand, you, who destroyed Gaius himself at the peak of his life, and he can do nothing to stop it", and that's a redemption arc to people

The only surviving kid only makes it because her brother acts to protect her, she doesn't make it because of any act of Gaius'

The entire story is literally "In case you somehow missed it in ARR and most of Stormblood, everything Gaius believed in was horseshit and there's no such thing as a 'noble general in the evil empire'". All his meritocracy bullshit vanished the second he was gone, no-one but his own children believed it or held onto it, and the empire put someone directly opposed to that belief into his old seat when he vanished. No-one cared, no-one else "believed", the Empire was never about that, it was only propped up in his own singular legion by him being there and the second he was gone the legion dumped it and moved on and only Gaius was too naive and stupid to see it.

I mean for fuck sake, the Empire digs up the chemical gas weapon he explicitly had sealed away and destroyed all record of after he's gone and if it wasn't for a particularly dedicated and enterprising catboy and his comedy crew of hardcore engineers, it would have caused the eighth apocalypse

Even the follow-up in patch 6.4, of the family portrait, isn't some "aw he good now" thing. The family portrait you help organise for him has to have four of its six members be projected onto the scene via a machine's reconstruction of them as normal people because they're dead, they threw their lives away because the ideology Gaius taught them meant they could only think to die fighting and nothing else. That's his loving family portrait: four ghosts stood at his back as his last living child smiles through her pain.

"well the people of Werlyt didn't kill him for conquering them" they let him clean up the mess he made (which meant watching his children be killed) and as "thanks" they're letting him stay there to live out the last third of his life or so attempting to atone by fixing the damage he did.

He's 56 at the time of ARR; the Empire he gave 3-4 decades of his life to is gone, it's a smouldering ruin, all but one of the people he loved is dead, his surviving daughter is scarred by the path he led her down, and what few friends he had are also dead. He learned that his beliefs were all horseshit and pretty much everyone around him except for himself knew it, he must live knowing that those beliefs got his children killed, all that he achieved that he once considered "good" was for nothing, he learned that the cool old emperor he idolised who had no magic but built an empire by pulling up his bootstraps and who told him that magic and gods were bad was actually an ancient incredibly magical sorceror attempting to resurrect his own god.

That's not a redemption arc, he's the most owned man still alive in XIV

#ffxiv #pocket post

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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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cosmosis · 1 year 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 · 10 months ago

Text

❝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

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@linkcommercial831 @write-from-the-heart

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erwinsvow · 8 months ago

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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 · 5 months ago

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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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cultofdixon · 6 months ago

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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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im-sleepdeprived · 6 months ago

Note

Can you write something about co-workers to friends to lovers?

fix you up

pairing: peter parker x reader

a/n: i won’t lie to y’all idk how i feel abt this one. its cute dgmw but i hope you guys like it !!! ive had this request for an EMBARRASSINGLY long time, anon if you’re upset, i totally understand

warnings: mentions of injuries, burns, rude customers, bandaging some wounds n stuff, fluff and pining !!! (disclaimer: I’ve never been a barista so forgive me if this is a lil off)

masterlist, requests are open !!

Working in a rustic-vintage-corner-campus-cafe was definitely not how you saw your college years going. Your teen self would’ve killed to work at a place like this but when you grew up, you realized just how different the workload is between a high school student and a uni one such as yourself.

You weren’t complaining of course. The pay was adequate, your manager was a simple old lady who never had much to say other than making sure all the equipment was clean, you got along with your coworkers pretty well for the most part and the customers were tolerable.

But every once in a while, you’d get an entitled shithead who seemed to make it their life’s mission to ruin someone else’s day. And the problem with working a social job such as you did, is that you were an easy target.

It started off as a fairly simple day, you clocked in and put on your apron ready to start your shift for the day. You preferred late morning shifts, leaving afternoons for classes (and the rouge 8am lecture every now and then) and nights for going out or studying.

“Oh, Y/N! Thank god you're here,” Your co-worker, Vanessa, exclaimed.

Vanessa was a few years older than you. She actually wasn’t a student, she’d given college a try and it wasn’t her thing. Apparently, all it did was “try to undermine unstoppable greatness.” She was chatty, but you actually liked that about her. She could keep up a conversation with a statue. When you first started off here she’d been the one to show you the ropes and ever since then, you’d had a specific bond with her that you couldn’t really put a name to.

You gave her a small smile, “Yeah well, I do prefer to show up when promised. Especially when my paycheck depends on it,” you let out a small laugh.

“Yes! See, that's what I love about you,” she made a disgusted face, “Unlike Peter. Honestly, I don't understand how he hasn’t been fired yet! He shows up at least half an hour late to every shift yet Miss Hannigan still keeps him around.”

“Oh,” you stuttered, raising your hands a little in defense, “I didn't mean it as a jab at Peter, I swear.”

She tossed a curled blonde lock of hair over her shoulders while waving her other hand in dismissal, “Honey, don’t worry about it. I know you would never, you’re far too sweet for that. But I wouldn’t blame you if you did, you know, having to work more than half your shift alone? I swear if Bernard did that to me,” she made a big show of gesturing to herself, "I would not deal with it.”

While what she was saying wasn’t necessarily wrong, it didn’t feel right talking about Peter like that. Sure, he was late most of the time, leaving you to do most of the work while you waited for him to show up (somehow when he started working you two got the same shift together and it’s just been that way ever since) and while you, also, normally wouldn’t put up with this, there was something different about Peter. You never felt like he was taking advantage of you, and purposefully made you pick up extra slack. It was quite the opposite actually, he always apologized profusely and never slacked when he was on the clock. He always seemed so rushed and out of breath, you were pretty sure the poor boy just needed to learn how to manage time better. Plus, he always took it upon himself to unpack the orders because of all the heavy lifting required (you couldn’t tell just by looking at him, with all the sweaters he wore, but man was he ripped.)

“He’s actually really sweet.” You’re not sure why exactly you’re so keen on defending Peter. You two barely spoke, outside of work of course, and you don’t know much about him. But something inside you didn’t like anyone assuming anything bad about him.

“Yea, well, he’d be a ton sweeter if he clocked in on time,” she laughed as she untied her apron, getting ready to leave. You faked a laugh as well, not wanting the conversation to progress any further.

“Alrighty, well,” she heaved a breath, “I'm off, have a good rest of your day Y/N.”

You smiled once again and sent a wave her way before settling down in front of the register. It was slow today, not many people in the shop. A fellow student you only recognized from work sat in a corner booth with their headphones locked in and was working on what seemed to be some kind of essay.

There was an older woman, however, looking incredibly irritated at the table closest to you. You’d never seen her before but that wasn’t too strange. It was a near-campus cafe, after all, lots of people passing through. She looked to be typing on her phone until, suddenly, she shut it off and made direct eye contact with you.

If looks could kill, you would’ve dropped dead behind the counter, which wouldn’t be all that ideal considering you couldn’t remember the last time anyone mopped that side of the store.

She stood up and walked towards you and you already dreaded the conversation to come.

“I have an order,” she spit out, as if she were disgusted to even be talking to you at the moment.

No greeting or anything, wow. Someone wasn’t raised right.

Nonetheless, you put on your well-rehearsed customer service smile and gave in. “Sure, I’d be happy to help with that. Can you just give me the order?”

She rolled her eyes dramatically. “I shouldn’t have to, I called in and placed it and it should be ready by now. I'm going to be late!”

You froze for a moment, not quite sure what to do, “I’m so sorry for the inconvenience ma’am, but I just got here and I haven’t heard anything,” you glance at the little whiteboard kept on the counter for these exact situations only to find it empty, “and I don’t see anything here about a phone-placed order. Are you sure you have the right store?”

Her face was so red and steam was practically blowing out of her ears, “Of course, I have the right store! Do you think I'm stupid or something?”

“No! Of course not, I'm so sorry,” you start to blabber off, not wanting to make her any angrier than she already was, “I’ll get things ready for you right away ma’am.”

You turned around and tried to make yourself not freak out as badly as you wanted to. It was so humiliating getting yelled at like this in public! And yeah, maybe if you had such a problem with unpleasant interactions like this, you shouldn't have taken a social job such as this one, but honestly, you thought people would have enough manners not to act up like this. Apparently not.

It slipped your mind for a moment because of how scrambled you got when the lady flipped her lid, but Vanessa has been known to do this, forget to write down orders and leave you to fend for yourself (quite literally since your coworker was never really around) and you’re pretty sure that’s what happened here. Other customers were usually more understanding than this woman bordering on Kathy-Bates-movie-character-insanity over a drink order.

You reached into your back pocket, deciding you’d try to send her a hurried text about any phone calls she might remember. That just seemed to anger your customer more.

“Excuse me?! I'm sitting here waiting for my order and you're too busy chatting away on your phone?”

You lose yourself for a moment and you can’t feel your face anymore.

“I am so sorry ma’am,” you repeat, which seems to be your mantra since you started working today, “I was just checking to see if-,”

“I don't care what you were checking, or what you need to see! Give me what I paid for,” her hand started smacking against the counter loud enough for the only other person in the store to look up, broken from their reverie. They merely shot you an apologetic look before getting back to their work, leaving you to fend for yourself.

“You have terrible customer service, honestly. I come here every Tuesday with my book club, but never again. If I don’t get exactly what I asked for in the next five minutes, I'm calling your boss and not leaving until I'm sure you’re fired.”

You shake your head, “There’s no need to do that ma’am, I'll get everything ready for you.”

You turned around once again, this time, heading towards the cappuccino machine. You’re not sure why you said that considering you have no clue what ‘everything’ is that has to get ready.

In all honesty, there’s a low chance that a suburban-white-soccer-mom type would have any real effect on your employment. Miss Hannigan would surely not fire you just because some order forgot to be written down and some customer got pissed. Right?

But you really didn’t want to find out.

So, you started up the machine and turned to grab a cup. Today, apparently, was just doomed from the start. As you turned to grab one of the cups placed on the shelf over the machine, your hand hit the button that turned on the steam wand. Which was aimed directly at your other hand.

You bit down the yelp that threatened to escape and jumped back, the back of your hand now searing with pain. Instinctively, your other hand came to cup your injured one, which only made it worse. You fought back tears as you moved to turn the steam back off.

Inhaling deeply, you took a moment to try to get your mind working again. “Hello?!” Of course. You turned your head and gave her the fakest smile you’ve ever mustered in your whole life. “One minute ma’am.”

You could hear her going off about how she doesn’t have a minute to spare, but you ignored her, trying to think of what the hell you could give her to just get her out of your face. You’d have to guess her order since I wasn’t actually taken. You’d started playing a game with yourself since you worked here, guessing people's drink orders, and you’d say you’ve gotten pretty good.

You peeked a look back at her. You’d had customers around her age come in before and order, for the most part, the same thing. A plain cappuccino. Seemed like a safe bet.

Swallowing down the pain as best you could, you approached the machine again. This time, taking out the portafilter. It must’ve not been put in correctly because it clattered to the ground, coffee grinds falling around the floor.

You wanted to cry. Your hand hurt like hell, there was a new mess to deal with, and that lady hadn’t stopped complaining since you stepped in.

Frozen, you began to panic a little, breaths coming out sporadically. You’d leave the sweeping for later, but you had to clean the filter so you could use it because it was the only one. And the slightest brush of air made your hand burn even more. You had no clue how to go about this. Maybe if you-

Like an angel, Peter rushed in through the side door. Tying his apron around his waist, he looked towards you. Your hand flew up to your mouth at his perfect timing and you saw his expression grow more concerned.

He rushed towards you. “What happened?” And for a second, you forget everything that was stressing you out just a few moments before. He grabbed your hand so gently, you forgot every ounce of pain.

“I cannot believe this!” She wasn’t giving up and you shut your eyes in frustration, turning to reply to her again. But before you can open your mouth, Peter steps in. “Hold on, can’t you clearly see she’s hurt?”

She scoffed and crossed her arms, “That’s her fault. If she knew how to do her job, it wouldn’t have happened.”

You could feel the anger rolling off him in waves. His expression hardened and his mouth opened to shoot something back at her, but this time, you cut him off. You placed your non-injured hand on his shoulder and gave him a look.

He stared at you for a few seconds before finally giving in, blowing out some air in a frustrated huff. “Go wait for me inside,” he told you, nodding his head toward the employees-only backroom.

“What?” You asked confused. You didn’t wanna leave him alone.

“You’re not working right now, there’s no way I’m letting you. I’ll deal with her. Go, I’ll be right there,” he said, shoving you away gently.

Once you heard that he’d be following you, you were more willing. You walked through the door and took a seat at the table usually used for meal breaks. The ‘break room’ was a small room positioned in the back of the store. You can’t remember what this place used to be (a diner maybe?) but this specific room was used as an office, but Miss Hannigan claimed she had no use for an office so it was used for employee breaks.

Every ounce of you was grateful for Peter’s Superman moment back there. He came in today earlier than usual and he’d totally saved your ass. You were going to make sure to tell him.

You weren’t waiting long before the door opened again and Peter walked in, holding a backpack you hadn’t seen on him before. In his other hand, he held a drink. He placed the drink on the table before he grabbed one of the chairs, bringing it close to yours, and you turned your body to face him.

He picked up your hand again, just as gently as before. “Alright,” he let out a breath of relief, “it’s not as bad as I thought, but, it’s still gonna take a while to heal. Wait,” he leaned over, unzipping his bag and taking supplies out while you just stared at him.

“I thought you majored in biochemistry.” You blurted out. Your face heated up a little when he looked at you curiously.

“I- I saw your textbooks once when you left your bag open. And I’ve seen you around campus, near the science-y buildings…and stuff.” You shrugged and he chuckled.

“I do,” he nodded, “any medical stuff is self-taught. I get into a lot of…accidents.”

“Oh.” You nodded at him. What kind of accidents would he get into? You’d never seen him hurt, but what did you know.

“I take it you don’t major in anything science-y,” he said, grinning at you.

You shook your head, “No, I don’t. But I have a chemistry class I have to take for credit. Which makes no sense because chemistry has nothing to do with what I want to learn.”

He laughed and set his bag back down, everything he needed was now laid out on the table. “Okay,” he picked up a white tube with red lettering on it. “This is gonna help with pain and scarring. I’m going to spread some of this, then wrap it up for you.” You looked at the table and saw he’d also taken out some white gauze. What kind of ‘accidents’ did he get into?

You nodded, at a complete loss for words. You had no idea Peter knew so much about injuries and you were so thankful he was helping you out. You didn’t hate each other, but you weren’t close either.

He applied a small amount to the back of your hand, asking you constantly if you were okay as he rubbed it on softly. Honestly, even if it did hurt, you wouldn’t have the heart to tell him.

He finished up with the cream and moved onto the gauze, expertly wrapping it up to lightly cover your wound. When he was finished with that, he carefully tied it off, making sure not to tie it too tight.

“There,” he leaned back and smiled at you, causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach. “All fixed up.”

“Thank you, Peter, really.” You reluctantly pulled your hand back into your lap, missing the warmth of his fingers wrapped around it.

“You don’t need to thank me Y/N, it’s the least I could do. I’m just glad I got here earlier than usual.”

You nodded and looked down. “Well thanks anyway, you saved my ass back there. Seriously, I have no idea what’s wrong with me today but I kept fucking everything up.”

“Hey,” he said softly, making you look up and meet his gaze. “You didn’t fuck anything up. Okay? You made a few mistakes, but that's not your fault. She shouldn’t have been treating you like that, especially when you’d hurt yourself.” He looked away and scoffed as he remembered the terrible customer that had ruined your morning. You would’ve felt extremely touched by his care if it weren’t for his next words.

“All that for a plain fucking cappuccino.” He mumbled.

“A plain cappuccino? Really?” You asked excitedly, forgetting about everything, and grinning at him wildly.

“Um, yeah…why?” He asked you, confusion was written all over his face, but he couldn’t help his own smile slightly growing when he noticed your enthusiasm.

“Nothing,” you shook your head quickly, smile never fading, “I just…well, I play this game with myself where I guess people's drink orders. And I think I’m getting pretty good because that’s exactly what I was going to make her before you walked in.”

He laughed out loud and you joined in. “What’s my order?” He asked.

You paused for a moment. “A caramel macchiato with extra caramel.”

He looked at you for a bit, “Close,” he admitted. “It used to be.”

“So are you gonna tell me what it is now?”

Shaking his head, he leaned over the table and dragged the drink he’d brought in earlier in front of you. “Here,” he changed the subject, “I made you this.”

You’d completely forgotten about it, and when you took a closer look, you realized it was your coffee order.

Your mouth fell open, “How’d you know?”

He just shrugged, smiling slightly. He knew it was your favorite, but the confirmation was still nice. “I've seen you make it for yourself. Educated guess.”

“Oh my god,” you said, voice soft. It was a simple thing really, you had one most days at the end of your shift. But the fact that he’d noticed… It just meant a lot. “Thank you so much, Peter.”

He just waved you off, his smile growing when he noticed your reaction to the drink. He couldn’t believe he got a chance to speak to you. Truly speak to you. He was always too awkward or embarrassed or trying to avoid embarrassment. But now, while he didn’t like the circumstances that led you both here, he was actually talking to you. And it was nice.

“So,” he started, not wanting this to end just yet, “you said you’ve got a chemistry class?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, picking up your drink and taking a sip. “The one with Professor Hall. I actually have a class after this shift. I totally suck though, and he hates me. I just don’t get it, and he doesn’t explain it well!”

Peter nodded, completely understanding what you meant. It was a tough subject to begin with, and he knew not everyone was as into science as he was, add onto that a teacher who doesn’t really teach, it’s a recipe for disaster.

“I actually had that class. Last year. I can help you, sometimes. If you’d like me to, that is!” He rushed out. Great, he thought, now I’m getting awkward.

You looked up at him, eyes wide. “Really? Do you mean that?”

“Of course. I think I’ve still got my notes too, if you want ‘em.” He shrugged nonchalantly as if he wasn’t saving your ass again.

“Oh my god Peter,” you placed your non-injured hand on his knee, not noticing the way his body stiffened and he gulped. “That would help so much. There’s a huge exam coming up, and it's a huge part of my grade so I have to pass. I started cramming earlier but—”

“I’ll help,” he reassured you, “I enjoy science anyway, so it’ll be fun for me.”

“Thank you,” you repeated. Staring at him so close, you realized you’d never noticed how handsome he was. Sure there were times you thought he was cute, from afar, but now…you could see the different shades of brown in his eyes, the way one of his eyebrows was slightly curlier than the other, unwilling to sit straight. You couldn’t help but stare-

“Oh my god,” you repeated, except this time, you had remembered something. “If we’re both in here, who’s outside?”

“What? Oh, um,” he scratched the back of his neck, still reeling from having you so close to him. “Freddy’s out there?”

“Freddy?” You asked confused.

He nodded. “The guy writing on his laptop, he’s friends with my roommate, throws the craziest parties. He’s chill, I told him to keep an eye out if someone else walks in. But it’s been slow, so I think we’re good.”

“Oh, okay.” You said, standing up. “We should probably still go though.”

He stood up beside you, frowning. “I don’t think you should work with your hand hurt. I don’t want you accidentally making it worse.”

Your heart warmed at his concern. “That's really sweet Peter, but I’ll be fine. I don’t know what happened before, I never do stuff like that, even accidentally.”

He still didn’t look convinced. “Why don’t you just go home? I can take it for today.”

You shook your head quickly, “I’m not leaving. I have a class later and it would just be a waste of time going back and forth anyway.”

You walked towards the door, opened it, and exited before he had a chance to argue anymore. You stepped behind the counter while Peter rushed out behind you. You watched Freddy give him a thumbs up and Peter nodded at him before he followed right after you.

“Are you sure you should go to class today? I can walk you home so you can take the day off,” he offered, and he looked so genuine you almost accepted.

“Peter,” you laughed and he decided no matter what your response was, it wouldn’t matter because hearing you say his name like that was enough. “I’ll be fine, I didn’t break both my legs, it's just a small burn.”

He stared at you for a bit as you smiled at him, trying to get him to ease up. “Fine,” he gave in reluctantly. “But no going towards the cappuccino machine,” he waved a finger at you, “or the ovens. Or anything hot!”

“Fine,” you shot back, grinning wide and he couldn’t help but return it.

The rest of the morning had gone by easily and you thought maybe you didn’t have totally shit luck. Peter was way more fun than you ever thought he’d be and you wondered why you didn’t start talking to each other sooner.

It used to be silently working together but after those few moments in the break room, you guys were laughing your whole shift. He meant what he said, and he kept you away from anything that produced heat (which you told him was an insane boundary to set in a cafe) so you had extra time to make quips here and there.

You started playing your order-guessing game with him, teaching him certain traits that gave someone away:

“Side part, beanie, and a crossbody? Oh, he’s getting a tall, dark, americano for sure.”

“She’s getting tea. No coffee, just tea. Maybe with a little lemon wedge.”

And he started to get the hang of it.

“She looks like she drinks matchas right?” He said to you when a girl around your age walked in. He’d been right and you both laughed about it afterwards.

When your work shift ended, you were actually upset.

“I’ve got a class to get to,” you told him, lifting your bag onto your shoulder. You’d both cleaned up and gotten yourselves ready, now standing in front of the door. Something in you didn’t want to leave just yet, enjoying your time together far too much to end it so soon.

“Yeah…” he trailed off, you waited for him to continue but he hesitated.

“What is it?” You crossed your arms and smiled slightly, shifting your weight onto your other foot. He brought a hand up to scratch the back of his neck, “I just…well, I was just wondering—if it's okay with you of course!” He rushed out, quickly bringing his hands up. “That I could walk you to class?”

You laughed, “I’d love that Pete, thank you.” You turned to open the door to let you both out but he quickly moved forward, holding it open for you and motioning for you to move forward.

Looking back at him, you smiled and noticed his cheeks were a little red. How had you never noticed how adorable he was?

The walk back to campus wasn’t long but you learned a lot. He told you where he went to high school, his friends he still kept in touch with, his Aunt May, some funny moments from parties he’d been forced to attend by his roommate, and you laughed together.

You told him about the book you were currently reading, your life back home and your family, and why you chose to go to this college. He went along with your jokes, which made it all the more better for you. “I mean if you think about it,” you'd said, “it is so much easier to romanticize your life when your school campus is as pretty as this one, and that’s real motivation!”

The conversation flowed naturally between you two and it felt like you’d been friends for ages. He dropped you off outside of your class building with the promise of picking you up afterward so you two could study together.

“So I’ll be back here in an hour right,” he asked.

“Right,” you smiled at him. “And thanks again Pete, for everything.” You held up your bandaged hand, shaking it a little before setting it back down.

He shook his head quickly, “Don’t thank me for that. Really.”

You stared at him with a warm expression. “Bye Peter,” you waved as you turned to walk into your class.

“Bye Y/N,” he returned. He watched you walk through the doors, shooting him one last smile before you disappeared from view, before blowing out a breath of air.

He’d finally gotten a chance to talk to the girl he’d been crushing on for months, and he got to walk her to class! And they were meeting up afterward. After working so close to you and never having the guts to initiate a conversation, he’d settled for just admiring you from afar. But after today, there was nothing that could keep him away.

You were not having a good day.

You’d just found out that your chemistry exam was being bumped up to two days from now. Even with the early studying you’d done before, there was no way you could catch up with everything that fast. You were so overwhelmed you had completely forgotten Peter was waiting for you outside.

You walked out, your bottom lip stuck between your teeth, and you practically jumped out of your skin when someone placed a hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, don’t worry,” he said, his voice soft yet full of concern. Peter. “It's just me. What happened?”

The second he saw you walk out, he could tell something was off. He could literally sense the anxiety rolling off of you in waves. He had waited for you to look up and stop when you saw him, but you were just about to walk past him before he stopped you. Now, you were looking at him with distress coating every feature on your face. Your brows were pinched, your lip red from biting it, and your eyes wide and distant like you couldn’t even see him and he was standing right in front of you. Something had gone wrong and he wanted nothing more than to fix it.

“What is it? What’s wrong? He asked frantically.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, hands flying up to the sides of your head and gripping your hair. You weren’t looking at him anymore, “Oh my god.”

“Ok Y/N,” he said nervously, “you’re starting to scare me.”

“Two days Peter!” You looked at him wildly. “Two days! I can’t go over everything in two days, is he fucking insane? I didn’t even know he could do something like that, I mean, can he do something like that? I feel like that shouldn’t be allowed it should—”

You cut yourself off and started pacing back and forth in front of him. “Oh my god, I’m gonna bomb this. And if I fail, it’ll bring my whole grade down! I can’t afford that I—”

“Hey,” he repeated, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder again. “I said I’m gonna help you, and I meant it. So we’re gonna get through this together, even if we have to stay up all night.”

You stared at him, trying to wonder what you’d done in your life to deserve such an angel.

You shook your head quickly, “I really appreciate that Peter, but I’m serious. There’s no way I can learn everything I need to know that fast.”

You tried to smile at him but it didn’t reach your eyes.

He grinned, his expression the total opposite of yours. “Well, you’ve clearly never studied with me, so don’t sound too sure yet.”

Another thing you’d come to realize was just how smart Peter was.

You really should’ve known when he told you he’d taken that advanced chemistry class a year ago. And passed.

Looking through his notes, you could see his attention to detail. He really wasn’t a slacker in the classroom because everything was clearly laid out here.

You’d spent that night going over everything and you’d actually started to feel hopeful about it. Peter was a way better teacher than Professor Hall, and it didn’t hurt that he was so cute. He was understanding with everything and was willing to go over any part for as long as it took for you to fully grasp it.

At the end of the night, he’d undone the wrappings around your hand, reapplied the cream for you, and wrapped it up again.

“It’s doing okay,” he reassured you. “Like I said, it’s gonna take a while, but if it starts hurting or anything, take some medicine. Then find me.”

You were sure you’d just melted into his hands at that moment.

The next day, you couldn’t wait to get through everything and see him again, even if you were going to be talking about chemistry.

You weren’t scheduled to work at the cafe today, so you’d only get to meet up after both of your classes.

Lectures were a blur, nothing really catching your attention and you spent most of the time with your phone tucked in your hand texting back and forth with Peter, barely concealing your laughter when he sent you memes.

It was like that all day, until, finally, you made your way over to his small apartment he shared with one of his friends.

its very quaint 🤌

(totally NOT what we say to make ourselves feel better about this shoebox)

He’d told you over text, making you laugh out loud as you made your way over there.

dw🫡 I was one of those kids who used to live in their play tents and hid in random corners and spaces

im totally ready for this

ok but be warned, we do not have a pet!!! they are not allowed per our lease!!! ignore the cat when you come in!!! tell no one!!!

what cat ??

good girl ;)

Your face flushed as you made your way up the steps to his door. You knocked three times and barely had to wait a second before Peter stood before you, holding the door open.

“Hi,” he said, smiling at you.

“Hi,” you grinned back. You heard a small ‘meow’ come from behind him and he quickly held up a finger to his lips. You covered your mouth, stifling a laugh as you nodded at him.

“Come on in,” he said, stepping out of the way to lead you through the door. You stepped in and kicked off your shoes before looking around. It was plain, but that was to be expected really.

There was a large poster hanging next to their TV, however, that caught your eye. “Big fan?” You asked him, shoving your thumb in the direction of the Star Wars poster.

He shrugged nonchalantly, “Kind of.”

“Oh. Well, I was just asking because I love those movies. My little brother used to watch them and I got really into it.”

“Oh. I mean—I don’t know what I was saying before I love them too.” He rushed out, making you giggle.

He stayed staring at you for a bit, his eyes rounding out and his mouth gaping a little bit.

You gave him a small smile, “Okay, well we should-” You let out a small yelp, hands flying to your mouth as you jumped back.

The living room was small. The only things occupying it were the TV mounted to the wall, and in front of it, was a sofa. And on the sofa, was an unconscious body that you hadn’t noticed until it let out a low groan. You really weren’t sure how you missed it, there wasn’t much else to look at, but they had just been so still.

Heart beating erratically, you turned towards Peter again, who was looking at you with all the amusement in the world written all over his face. “Was he always there,” you whispered, eyes wide.

He opened his arms, “Well, angel, I really don’t know. Did you see anyone come in?”

“Oh shut up,” you grumbled. “He looks familiar…is that..”

“Freddy.” He finished for you. Right. The dude from the cafe.

“He crashes here sometimes.” He added.

You nodded. “Alright.”

“Shall we?” He opened a door beside him and looked at you.

“Right. Yeah, of course.” You walked past him and into his room. You stopped after you entered, taking a moment to look around. His room was simple, with just his bed, a desk and chair, and a dresser perched next to another door you assumed was his closet.

What really caught your attention, however, were the photos scattered all over the walls. The room was practically engulfed in Peter Parker’s memories, and you really liked it. Without thinking, you approached one wall, walking through them and taking each one in.

There were some with large groups of people, those looked like school trips. Most of the photos were of the same two people, and based on what he’d told you, you assumed those were his friends. Ned and MJ.

A lot of the photos contained an older woman, who looked stunning. That had to be his Aunt May. You were shocked by how many photos he had with the Tony Stark. He’d told you he had an internship at Stark Industries, but really, you sorta thought he just went on coffee runs all day.

And then, you saw a couple shots of Spider-Man. It wasn’t unusual, you knew a lot of people snapped photos of the masked hero when they spotted him around the city. What was unusual, was the quality of the photos. You didn’t know if you’d ever seen such clear photos of him, even on the news, as he was always swinging and in motion. In these, Peter seemed to have caught him at just the right time. You wondered how long it took him to capture the photos.

“Big fan?” You smirked over at him from your spot by one of the Spider-Man photos as you repeated your words from earlier.

Peter leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, content with watching go over the details of his life. He felt a little naked, like he was bared out in front of you. But…it felt good too. He liked knowing you were learning new things about him, and curious to know more. It filled him with an anxious sort of giddiness.

“You first,” he said slyly.

Laughing, you said, “Well, I don’t see how anyone can hate on the guy. He literally runs around saving lives”

He laughed as he approached you, standing by your side. You’d be surprised. “True I guess.”

“We should get to studying,” you said, breezing past him, your hand brushing his bicep as you did. He sucked in a breath, his entire body feeling electrocuted after that one touch. He wondered how you seemed so normal, laying out your books and papers on the floor beside his bed.

This was gonna be a long night.

He cleared his throat and moved to sit across from you, hoping he didn’t look as flushed as he felt.

After a few moments of him watching you get settled, you heard him start laughing. Looking up you asked, “What’s so funny?”

That only made him laugh harder. “Just thinking about how scared you got before. Did you really not see him?”

You felt your face go hot. “I didn’t! I had no clue he was there, and next thing I know he’s making lawn mower nosies!”

Peter was red in the face now. “The way you flew back,” he said between fits of laughter, “I thought you’d give yourself whiplash.”

“Shut up,” you grumbled at him, picking up one of your pens and throwing it at him. It bounced off without him even flinching.

You looked down, avoiding his gaze by busying yourself with your papers.

“Okay I’m ready to be serious now,” he said. The laughter was gone but amusement twinkled in his voice.

“Great! Welcome back Pete, now hand me that pen, I’m gonna need it.”

Two hours later, you were both sprawled across the floor tossing Chess-Its at one another.

“Come on!” You threw your arms up in defeat when you threw another cracker at him just for him to catch it again.

Peter chuckled, “Sorry angel, I’ve just got killer reflexes.”

“Alright whatever,” You rolled your eyes. “Come on, throw some at me.”

You opened your mouth, ready to finally win one round of this nonsense…just for a Cheez-It to hit your cheek and fall to the ground with the rest of your tries.

Peter laughed while you sat up, reached to grab the box of crackers, and poured some into your hand before putting it back down.

“Okay, I’m done. I actually want to eat them now.” You said, munching on a cracker and sitting against the side of his bed.

“Oh come on, don’t be a quitter Y/N/N,” he grinned, leaning over and pinching your cheek.

You swatted his hand away with your empty one. “M’not.”

He smiled at you before sitting up. “Hit me,” he said, opening his mouth and pointing at it.

You grabbed a Cheez-It from the palm of your hand and made a big show of trying to get your aim right. Squinting one eye, you stared at him, moving your hand back and forth before tossing it slightly more to the right. On purpose.

That didn’t stop him from leaning over and catching it in his mouth.

“I don’t like this game,” you said, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Don’t act like I don’t know what you did,” he said back, munching on his Cheez-it.

“Sue me,” you told him, brushing him off with a wave of your hand.

He laughed before he settled down. “How’s your hand feeling by the way.” His voice was considerably softer now, making you smile softly at him.

“It’s doing great, thank you again, Peter. I would’ve been totally fucked if it weren’t for you,” you told him honestly.

He shook his head, “Don’t thank me at all Y/N. Hate seeing you hurt,” he mumbled, less to you and more to himself and he stayed staring at your wrapped-up hand.

“Well don’t worry about that, it doesn’t hurt at all.”

“Yeah?” He looked at you suddenly, like he needed to know you meant it.

“Yeah,” you nodded at him.

“That’s good,” he breathed out and your heart squeezed at how much he seemed to care.

“What's your plan? Y’know, for after school?” You didn’t want to leave just yet, even with your studying done. And you wanted to know more about him. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t taken a certain liking to him lately.

“Well after I get my degree, I’m going move up a little further in Stark Industries. I’m still undecided on grad school, I think I’ve got everything I need and I’m probably just gonna start saving up to pay off student loans instead of adding on them.”

You nodded at him, “So the Stark internship is going well? No offense, I sort of thought you were their coffee mule.” You grinned at him before popping a Cheez-It in your mouth.

He scoffed, “No, I’m not. I mean, it did take a while to get them to take me seriously, but I got there!”

You laughed, “Well, very proud of you Pete. That’s super impressive.”

He grinned at you, his face heating up at your words. He wondered if you knew how much it affected him every time you called him Pete. Probably not, but he never wanted you to stop.

You two stayed like that for another hour or so, time passing by without you noticing at all. You talked about your futures, where you say yourselves after school, and after that. Your admiration for him only grew as you got to know him more. You could talk to him all night and never get bored honestly, you-

Shit.

A random notification lit up your phone, which lay beside you on the floor, making you take notice of the time.

You sat up quickly, spitting out curses as you started gathering your belongings and shoving them into your bag.

Peter sat up as well, helping you get your things together but in a calmer manner than yourself.

“Relax Y/N,” he said in a soothing voice.

“Pete I can’t do it.” You turned to him suddenly, dropping everything in your hands.

“Do what, angel?”

“The exam is tomorrow. I’m not ready! I’m gonna fail, and that one grade, that one stupid grade, is gonna hold me back and ruin everything-”

“Sweetheart look at me,” he said, placing a hand on your shoulder. His grip was warm and reassuring. “You are not going to fail. And I know this because I’ve spent the last few hours studying with you, and I saw how smart you are, and how quick you caught on. You’re gonna walk in there tomorrow and ace that test, I know you are!

“And if for some reason you don’t,” he continued, “you gave it your best. You tried your hardest and you learned something, which is all that matters in the end. So breathe, stop stressing, and let me walk you home.”

“All that talk as an excuse to ask to take me home?” You snorted, “Peter you shouldn’t have.” Despite your jokes, you took his advice and took a deep breath. He was right, you’d studied your hardest, both with and without his help. All you could do was take the exam and hope for the best now.

He laughed and stood up, holding out a hand once he saw you all packed and ready. “Caught me. So is that a yes?”

You took his hand and pulled yourself up but didn’t let go right away. “If I fail, do we have to stop hanging out? Y’know, with you being a science prodigy and all.”

He laughed again and placed both his hands on your shoulder, staring straight into your eyes. “Never.”

“Ok, well, just making sure. I wouldn’t wanna give you a bad rep in the science community or something-”

You were suddenly cut off from your babbling when he pressed his lips to yours. You froze for a second, unsure what to do, but it didn’t take long for you to catch up and kiss him back.

He pulled away after a few moments, “Done with the jokes?” His voice was soft and teasing.

“Uh huh,” you mumbled, eyes still closed. “But I think you might need to do that again, just to be sure.”

He chuckled murmuring something that sounded like ‘too cute’ but you couldn’t be bothered to hear when you felt his lips on yours again, this time, expecting them.

You threw your arms around his neck, pulling him closer and canting your head slightly for better access. He groaned, one arm wrapping around your middle, the other settling on your waist.

You might have pictured kissing him before, just maybe. But none of your daydreaming could’ve prepared you for the real thing. The way his bottom lip covered your top one, the soft breaths exchanged between the two of you, the way he pressed himself further into you when you tugged his hair a little harder. This definitely beat all of your daydreams.

You could’ve stayed that way forever, and you probably would’ve if Peter hadn’t taken one for the team and pulled away first.

Or tried to, at least.

“We should-” kiss.

“You-” kiss.

“I need to walk,” kiss, “-you home angel.” He murmured against your lips.

“Okay,” you whispered back but you didn’t move to pull away, and he didn’t push you. The two of you stayed stuck, foreheads pressed together, eyes closed, taking in the atmosphere of each other.

“I should probably go now,” you said softly. Peter hummed in agreement, leaning in to peck your lips gently.

“It’s getting late,” but your voice is more of a sigh. You don’t know what he’s laced his lips with but each kiss makes you weak in the knees and woozier than the last one.

“God, d’yknow I’ve had the biggest crush on you.” He said, completely disregarding your previous statement.

That stops you. “What?” You asked him in disbelief. Peter had a crush on you? No way, you would’ve known.

“Yeah,” he chuckled lightly, “don’t act so shocked. I was always a stuttering mess at work whenever you so much as looked at me.”

True. But you’d just thought he was a bit more on the shy side.

“I’d seen you around campus before and I thought you were the prettiest girl I’d ever seen, and I still do, but I thought I had no shot in hell with you. And when I got the job at the cafe and saw I’d be working with you? I almost lost my fucking mind sweetheart.” You both laughed a little and you couldn’t help the way your cheeks flamed up because of his words. Did he have any clue what he was doing to you right now?

“So I just sorta kept my distance, y’know? Admired you from afar ‘cause I was too scared you’d reject me. Sadly, it only took you nearly burning your hand off,” he gave you a look and you burst into giggles, him doing you and slightly pinching your waist, “for me to get over myself and actually keep up a conversation with you. But now I’ve got you in my room, kissing me.”

“Hmm,” you hummed, “lucky you.” You joked as leaned in to press another kiss to his lips.

“Lucky me indeed,” he murmured before pulling you in even deeper. He dipped you, making you squeal into the kiss. Then he pulled you up, unable to keep the kiss going any longer with how hard he was grinning.

“Oh my god,” you said, laughing breathlessly.

“A lot more where that came from,” he smirked at you.

“You know,” you moved to pick up your bag, “for someone who was so scared to talk to me for so long, you sure found the confidence now.”

“What can I say? You make it easy. Once I started I couldn’t stop.” You smiled at him as he gently placed a hand on your arm leading you to the door. The living room was empty now, no one to be found on the couch or otherwise and you wondered where their cat had wandered off to.

You bent over to put on your shoes, Peter doing the same. He stepped forward and opened the door for you, letting you step out before following you and locking the door.

As soon as he was done with that, you reached over and grabbed his hand. “Hey Petey?” You said lightly. Oh, he was going to melt. From now on, he only wanted you to call him that.

“Hm?”

“I’m glad you finally decided to talk to me.”

He leaned down and kissed the top of your head. “Yeah? Me too angel.”

The next morning, you awoke in the brightest mood, considering you had a chemistry exam later that day. All you could think about was Peter. You were going to see him later at the cafe and you couldn’t wait.

You leaned over in bed to pick up your phone. Speak of the devil.

GOOD MORNINGGGGG❤️

hope you slept well angel, can’t wait to see you today. and you’re gonna totally ace that exam!🥰

seriously you’re going to kick chemistry’s butt

A huge smile bloomed on your face, almost hurting from how wide it was. Usually, you'd stay in bed for a while, scrolling through Instagram or just going through messages or something. Not today, you couldn’t wait to get to work. Maybe Peter was a good influence on you.

After getting ready for the day, you made your way to the cafe with a little bounce in your steps. The bell jingled above you as you opened the door and for the first time since you’d started working together, Peter was here before you.

“Hey,” he smiled, holding up your usual drink order and waving it at you.

“Hi Pete,” you approached his, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips. As you pulled away, you could see how quickly his cheeks pinked, making you grin.

“No ‘Petey’?”

“Didn’t know you had a preference,” you said, grabbing his hand and pulling it towards you as you took a sip from the drink and then moved to get dressed for your shift.

“Yeah,” he scratched the back of his neck, wishing he could feel your hand on his for just a little longer, “neither did I.”

You laughed lightly as you tied your apron, the sound hitting him like the greatest melody in the world.

“Okay then,” you walked towards him, stopping right in front of him, “let’s start over. Hi Petey.”

“Hi angel,” he gave you a dopey grin and you returned it.

“Great, now that we’ve got that figured out.” You patted his chest lightly before taking the drink from his hands and moving away.

“Hey wait! Where’s my kiss?” He pouted at you and he looked so adorable, you just wanted to pinch his cheeks and kiss him till he begged you to stop.

“We’re at work, we’ve gotta be professional.” You said matter-of-factly.

He rolled his eyes, leaned against the counter, and crossed his arms. “Professional my ass, no one is even in here-,”

Before he could even close his mouth, the bell jingled, and in stepped a boy about your age. The boy moved to one of the chairs, not moving to order just yet, giving you the chance to smirk at Peter, who just rolled his eyes again.

“What do you he’s gonna order,” he asked you.

“Hmm…a cookie, probably.” You moved lean against the counter across from him and took a sip of your drink as you smiled.

“Hey wait, you never told me what your drink order is.”

“Hmm…” he hummed in consideration before he moved towards you, grabbing your hand with the drink and bringing it up to his lips to steal a sip, maintaining eye contact the whole time.

“I’ve got to say,” he said in a low voice, “this one has really grown on me.”

You couldn’t look away, all you could do was stare. And stare, and stare, and stare…

A stranger’s voice, and then, “Hey, can I get one of those double chocolate chip cookies?”

You were just on cloud nine today.

You had taken your exam and for the first time ever in that class, you had felt confident in your work.

And to top it all off, after you’d handed in your paper and packed your things to leave, Professor Hall had given you a ‘well done’ nod. You! He’d never noticed you positively before. You were going to need to drown Peter in thank-you kisses for his help.

Speaking of Peter, you couldn’t wait to see him. He told you he’d be waiting for you after your class but when you stepped outside, there was no sign of him. You decided to sit on the building steps and wait. He was probably just running a little late, no biggie.

Big biggie. After 40 minutes of waiting for him, during which you’d sent him a little text and he hadn’t responded, you decided to head over to his place.

The walk was short and your little buzz had worn off after not getting to share it with Peter. After all, you kind of owed him most of the credit. You arrived at his apartment door, and when you knocked, it wasn't Peter who answered.

It's Freddy.

You throw on a smile. “Hi Freddy, is Peter home?”

He returned your smile as he said, “‘Sup Y/N.” He held out his fist and you stared at it for a while before you got the hint and bumped it with your own. “Pete’s not home right now, but you can totally come in and wait for him.”

You found it funny that someone who didn’t live there was inviting you in to stay, but you accepted anyway. You also had no clue how he knew your name.

You knew little about Freddy, but you knew he was sort of a campus celebrity. Every raging party there was, everyone knew Freddy was behind it.

“So,” you said as you walked in, “what year are you in Freddy?”

“Ah nah, I’m done with that shit. I took the bar,” he said casually, waving a hand and moving to sit on the couch. He kicked his feet up on the large Amazon box being used as a coffee table and picked up the open beer sitting atop it.

You stood in your place, clutching your bag. He was in grad school?

“Oh that’s awesome dude, did you not pass or something.”

“Uh uh,” he shook his head, taking a swig of beer, “got a 350.”

Your eyes widened. What. You didn’t know much about law school but you knew getting a score like that on the bar was not an easy thing.

“Wait when’d you take it?” You asked confused. The bar exam wasn’t scheduled for a few months from now.

“Last year.”

“Do you like…work at a firm or something?” It was insane to you that the party animal of this school had already graduated, and with an amazing score nonetheless.

He shook his head, “Workin' on my music right now, and if that doesn’t work out,” he gave you a wicked grin, “well I’ve always got my law degree.”

You nodded, stunned. “That’s sick dude. Good luck,” you told him, waving as you moved to wait in Peter’s room.

“Keep the door cracked kids,” he shouted towards you and you huffed a laugh as you entered the room and closed the door (leaving it open just an inch) before you sat at the foot of his bed.

You looked around for a second, taking it all in. It’s amazing how he managed to take this small space and make it so him.

After a few moments, you took out your phone to shoot him another text.

But before you could finish typing it out, the window beside you started opening and you watched as the Spider-Man fell onto the bed, not noticing you gaping right next to him.

You stayed silent, unsure of what to do or say until he moved to take his mask off. That got you moving and talking.

“Holy fuck!” You basically shout, moving away, hands flying to your mouth.

He seemed to be just as shocked as you were because he scrambled up from his lying position. And staring back at you was Peter Parker.

“What are you doing here?” He asked you, eyes wide. It wasn’t till then that you noticed the paleness of his features, his face lacking that usually healthy glow it held, the waver in his voice, and the hand clutching his bloody side.

“Holy fuck,” you repeated, voice lower, and for a whole different reason this time. “Shit Peter, you’re hurt.” You moved closer to him, temporarily forgetting everything else as your hand reached to gently remove his so you could take in the extent of his injuries.

“It’s nothing,” he said but made no move to shove you away or stop you. You moved his hand and winced at the sight that greeted you, “Looks like a whole lot more than nothing babe.”

“I’ve had worse.”

You look up at him, frowning slightly, “Not exactly reassuring Petey.”

“I feel all better now,” he said, shooting you a charming grin as soon as he heard the nickname leave your mouth. “Add a kiss in the mix, and I’ll be good as new.”

You huffed a laugh, shoving his knee slightly, “Shut up Peter. I’m serious. I’m sure you’ve got some experience with stuff like this,” you wave a hand towards his suit and injury for emphasis and he gives you a quick nod.

“Over there,” he pointed toward his dresser, “top shelf, under the blue sweater.”

You rushed over there, opening the drawer and spotting the sweater he mentioned. “I’m totally stealing that from you someday, this is your heads up,” you told him as you grabbed the large box and completely closed the door before you moved back to his side.

“You can have anything of mine, Angel. I’m sure you’d look better in it anyway.” His words made you blush, but you tried to ignore them so you could focus on the task at hand.

Peter, however, found that he really liked watching your cheeks pink up. And he wanted more.

“Lean against the headboard, now.” You said, trying to be serious again.

“God, at least buy me dinner first sweetheart.” He gave you the dorkiest smirk you’d ever seen. You just glared at him. “On the other hand,” he said as he moved backward to lean against his headboard, “I don’t need dinner, I’m all yours baby girl.”

This got you to laugh, “Peter, be serious! You’re bleeding out!” You moved to his side, “take this off by the way.” You gestured to his suit.

He hit the middle emblem of a spider and you watched as it loosened up and fell off his shoulders. You had started pulling it the rest of the way down, gulping when you realized he wasn’t wearing anything else, when he mumbled, “Not a terrible way to go.”

You refused to look up and meet his eyes but he knew he got you. Thank god he was wearing underwear, you realized, and you threw the suit to the side after you’d completely shredded him of it. He was definitely going to need a new one.

Now completely facing the damage, your stomach churned, and you were hit with the hard truth. “I…I don’t know what to do,” you whispered to him. You wanted to help him, more than anything. This man who’s been risking his life, probably since he was a teenager you realized, as you did the math silently in your head, was hurt and right in front of you, needing your help. And you needed to help him, but you didn’t know the first thing about how to approach a situation like this. You were surprised you could stare at the wound for so long.

“Don’t worry, I can do it,” he said gently, his bloody hand reaching for the huge first aid kit.

“No!” You rushed out, grabbing his hand to stop him, “No way am I letting you do that! Just…just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.

Feeling more confident, you grabbed the kit and opened it. Shock coursed you as you realized just how much he went through and your confidence fell right back down where it sprouted from. The bag was full of all the medical tools and supplies you could think of, most of them completely foreign to you, and you realized how privileged you must be to not recognize any of these things. You can’t imagine the ‘worse’ he talked about having earlier. This must be those accidents he was talking about.

“I don’t usually have to use them,” his voice was soft, almost like he was reassuring you, “usually just water and a towel does the trick. Maybe a little numbing cream. And these,” he looked down at his wounds, “some bandages, sure, but I won’t need stitches or anything.”

You let out a breath of relief, you weren’t sure you could’ve handled that. You didn’t trust yourself.

“Okay,” you said, grabbing some wipes. You were going to do this. Based on what he’d told you, he was always stitching himself back up, just to hit the streets again the next day. This time, though, was different. This time you were here to help him, and you weren’t going chicken out of this. Even a little help was better than nothing at all.

You started slowly, cleaning around his wounds so you could bandage them properly. “You sure you’re okay with this?” He asked you gently. “I totally understand if you need me to do it, angel, it’s a lot if you’re not used to it.”

“No,” you shook your head, your voice steady, “No way. It’s my turn to fix you up.” You told him, looking up to meet his eyes and smiling at him.

He returned it and you went back to work.

“So….Spider-Man, huh?” You peeked up quickly in question.

“Yeah,” he took a deep breath, “it’s a long story. Basically, I was bit by some spider, that shit was powerful,” you laughed a little, making him smile. “And I got some. Of its powers I mean.”

“So you get bit by a spider, that spider gives you powers, and you decide to become a New York vigilante?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” he nodded, and you laughed again.

“You’re a hell of a guy Peter Parker.” You said, shaking your head slightly.

“Thank you, I try,” he smirked at you and you laughed again.

“Okay,” you said, pulling away from his side. He almost whined in protest. Honestly, he wasn’t feeling any pain, not since you’d started worrying about him, and insisting you help him. Peter wasn’t used to that, he was always alone when it came to this part of the job. He’d never minded that before, just one of the things he had to deal with as a superhero, but now that someone else was taking care of him…it felt nice. Really nice. Especially when it was you.

“Peter?” You looked at him questioningly. Shit. You’d asked him something.

“Huh? I'm sorry, I didn’t hear you.” He said with wide eyes. He’d gotten too wrapped up in the feeling of being taken care of, not that anyone could blame him though, the girl he’d been crushing on forever was here, in his room, helping bandage him up! It's more than he could’ve dreamed of.

“It’s okay sweetie,” you said, waving him off assuming he was in pain or something. Really, now he had something new to obsess over. Sweetie? While he was practically naked (albeit injured, but he wasn’t thinking of that right now) in bed with you? God, he could just melt.

“I was just wondering which bandages,” you said, holding up the different ones you’d found in his bag.

“Oh,” he said lamely, “these ones.” He grabbed a few from you and opened them.

“Look,” he said, leaning over himself to see his wounds properly, “you’ve got to bring together both sides of the wound, then secure the bandage so that it’s holding it closed.” He talked as he placed the first bandage with you watching and listening with intent.

“Okay, I think I’ve got it,” you said as you took the rest of the bandages from him. You steadied yourself, straddling his thigh as you started placing the bandages down his wound. The biggest gash took about five, your elbow resting on his abdomen as you got lower…and lower.

Conveniently, you missed the quiver in his breath, too focused on the work at hand, but you didn’t miss the small gasp he let out when your forearm reached right between his thighs.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” You said as you pulled away quickly, thinking you’d hurt him. “Did I pinch too hard?”

“No, no angel, you’re fine. Doing a great job actually.” He replied, trying to collect himself. He could not let himself think of that right now. There were more important things at hand.

“You sure?” You asked him, not looking convinced.

“Positive.” He replied, grabbing your arm and pulling you back in (but making sure to keep you at a healthy distance from his dick).

You added a few more bandages, most of the cuts only needing one or two, before pulling away again to rummage through his bag. “What do you use on your bruises?”

“This one,” he said, leaning over you and grabbing a tube from the kit. You turned, your lips almost brushing over each other with how close you were.

“Hi,” you whispered, all thoughts completely flying out of your head as you realized just how badly you wanted to kiss him.

“Hi angel,” he said smiling softly at you.

Seeing you debate it in your head, Peter decided it would be easier for the both of you if he did it first. Leaning in, he closed the distance and smoothly took your lips in his. You melted into the kiss right away, feeling like you’d been craving this your whole life when really, you’d just kissed his a few hours ago before you’d left work.

Your hands were on his bare chest, you could feel every muscle, every move when-

“Wait, you’re hurt!” You pulled away, leaving a pouting Peter in your wake.

“My lips work just fine angel,” he said, trying to steal another kiss while you tried to avoid him.

“But..let me finish at least,” you mumbled against his lips, barely getting a chance to pull away after he’d caught you.

“You can finish, just lemme do this first,” he responded before kissing you again.

“Hey,” you mumbled against his lips.

He hummed in response, moving to kiss your cheek, your jawline. If he kept this up you might not try to stop him.

“Did you know Freddy took the bar exam? And passed?”

That got him to pull away.

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking at you confusedly, “I’m kissing you and you decide this a good time to bring up Freddy?”

“Well, y’know,” you shrugged, “figured it was as good a time as any.”

He scoffed, “Unbelievable.”

You giggled, “I win.” You pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, pulling away before he could catch you and turn it into more.

“Now lay down, lemme do this,” you said waving the cream at him.

He moved grumpily and you thought grumpy Peter was the cutest thing ever. The furrow of his brows, the slight pout of his lips. You could just kiss him. And you would’ve if you hadn’t known where it would lead you.

You unscrewed the cap to the cream and started applying it gently. “So Fred’s a lawyer huh?” Peter spoke up.

“He is!” You whispered excitedly, glad he was just as shocked as you were.

“And you learned this how?” He asked, giving you a look.

You shrugged. “He let me in and I talked to him, asked him a few questions to get to know him better since I see him everywhere.”

“Wait, he’s here right now?”

“Yeah,” you said slowly, “I thought you knew?”

“No I didn’t-,” he let out a sigh, “whatever it's basically his apartment too at this point I guess.”

You laughed, “And you’re okay with that?”

He shrugged with his good side. “He buys the good beer.”

You laughed again. “He scored a 350 on the bar exam!”

Peter’s brows shot up. “Oh shit.”

“I know! The only thing I knew about him was that he blacked out in that frat house’s pool all night and the cops were called cause someone thought he was dead.”

“Yeah, he’s super lucky he was on his back. Just floated around the pool like a leaf.”

You shook your head, screwing the cap back on the tube of cream, “Crazy. But anyway, I’m done. And on the plus side,” you grinned at him, “if you ever get in legal trouble, you know someone!”

He laughed out loud, and you watched as his face scrunched up and he clutched his side in pain. Apologizing for the joke, you gave him a kiss on the cheek to make up for it.

“Enough about crazy Freddy,” he let out a sigh, “I’m gonna go put some clothes on, and then I wanna cuddle with my girl.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words and all you could do was smile as he stood up, giving you a kiss on the side of your head before he moved to pick out some clothes.

You watched him get dressed, biting your lip as you watched how his muscles rippled with each of his movements. You always knew he was strong but seeing him like that, was a completely different story.

“Like what you see?” He asked, smirking at you before he lifted his shirt, holding it up between his teeth as he tied his sweatpants.

Your mouth fell open. At being caught and also at…how absolutely hot he looked right now. If he wasn’t injured, you would be all. over. him.

“S’alright angel,” he said as he stalked towards you. He was enjoying this, a lot. “I’m sure I’d be the same if the roles were reversed.”

That did not help. Now you were thinking about being naked in front of Peter and-

He laughed, kissed the side of your head again, and laid down, pulling next to him.

“Careful Peter, you’re still hurt!” You chastised him.

He shook his head, “You made me feel a hundred times better. Thank you, angel.”

“Of course Petey.” He smiled at you as he wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tight.

“So, you came to see me right? Y’know, before the whole finding out I’m Spider-Man thing. What’s up?”

“Oh I almost forgot,” you perked up, tilting your head up so you could see his face, “I think I totally aced that chemistry exam!”

“Angel! I’m so proud of you!” He started attacking you with kisses, kissing you anywhere his lips could reach.

You giggled, “Thank you sweetie, but seriously I owe you most of the credit, I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Nonsense,” he shook his head, “that was all you. I barely helped, you learned everything and then took that quiz, and aced it.”

“Well I haven’t gotten my grade back yet, I just have a really good feeling, so don’t sound too are there's a chance I didn’t do as well as I thought.”

“Nope,” he said, popping the p. “I have a sense, a spidey sense. And my spidey sense is telling me that you totally aced that thing. No questions asked.”

You laughed loudly. “Spidey sense?”

“No questions,” he repeated as he nuzzled his nose into your hair.

“Fine then,” you snuggled up further into him. “No questions.”

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