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Why is an effective labeling system crucial for warehouse racking
In the dynamic and fast-paced world of metal storage solutions, warehouse efficiency is paramount for businesses striving to stay competitive. One often overlooked yet crucial aspect that significantly impacts the overall efficiency of a warehouse is the labelling system used for its racking. In this blog post, we will delve into the reasons why an effective warehouse racking labelling system is indispensable for maximizing storage space, streamlining operations, and ultimately enhancing the overall productivity of a metal storage facility.

A well-designed and properly implemented warehouse racking labelling system is the backbone of a storage facility's organization. By assigning unique labels to specific storage locations, it becomes easier for warehouse personnel to locate and access items swiftly. This level of organization reduces the time spent searching for products and minimizes the risk of errors in order fulfilment, leading to improved customer satisfaction.
Metal storage solutions are designed to make the most of available space, and an effective labelling system complements this objective seamlessly. Through strategic labelling, warehouses can optimize their racking systems by assigning precise locations to different products based on size, weight, and retrieval frequency. This meticulous organization ensures that every inch of storage space is utilized efficiently, allowing for increased inventory capacity without the need to expand the warehouse's physical footprint.
A warehouse racking labelling system goes beyond mere organization; it is a powerful tool for streamlining inventory management processes. By incorporating barcode or RFID technology into the labelling system, businesses can automate tracking and monitoring of inventory movements. This not only reduces the likelihood of human errors but also provides:
Real-time visibility into stock levels.
Facilitating better decision-making regarding restocking.
Reordering.
Inventory rotation.
Time is money in the logistics industry, and an effective labelling system contributes significantly to time savings. Warehouse personnel can quickly locate and pick items for orders, resulting in faster order processing and fulfilment. This increased efficiency boosts productivity and allows businesses to meet customer demands more promptly, ultimately strengthening their market competitiveness.
Errors in warehouse operations can have far-reaching consequences, ranging from shipping the wrong products to delays in order fulfilment. A well-implemented warehouse racking labelling system minimizes the risk of errors by providing clear and accurate information about the location and identity of stored items. This, in turn, reduces the likelihood of incorrect shipments, returns, and associated costs, fostering a more reliable and trustworthy reputation for the metal storage facility.
In the ever-evolving business landscape, scaling and adapting operations is essential for sustainability. An effective labelling system for warehouse racking is designed to be scalable and adaptable, accommodating changes in inventory size, product types, and storage configurations. Whether a business expands its product range or reconfigures its storage layout, a well-thought-out labelling system ensures a smooth transition without disrupting day-to-day operations.
Maintaining compliance is non-negotiable in industries with stringent regulatory requirements, such as pharmaceuticals or food storage. A warehouse racking labelling system incorporating industry-standard practices ensures adherence to regulatory guidelines regarding inventory tracking, traceability, and product rotation. This safeguards the business from potential legal issues and fosters a culture of responsibility and reliability.
Conclusion:
In conclusion, the importance of an effective warehouse racking labelling system must be balanced in metal storage solutions. A well-designed labelling system is the linchpin of a successful warehouse operation, from optimizing space utilization and streamlining inventory management to enhancing productivity and reducing errors. Businesses that invest in a robust labelling system for their racking position themselves for immediate efficiency gains and set the stage for long-term scalability and adaptability in the ever-evolving world of metal storage. As we navigate the future of logistics, one thing remains clear – a meticulous and well-implemented labelling system is the key to unlocking the full potential of warehouse racking systems.
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The Experiment
Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader
Summary: You test your new make-up on Din. But, in a unique way.
Warnings: Helmetless Din, Fluff, Reader wears make up, no other description of reader other than them being shorter than Din, a lil suggestive (only a little), lots of kisses.
AN: I tried to keep the lipstick colours as suitable for everyone as possible. Please let me know if there’s anything that I need to change about that. Apologies if there’s any mistakes. Feedback is always appreciated <3
It was one of those rare instances where you and your little family had travelled to a planet which was not only habitable but also beautiful. After being holed up in the dry habitat of Nevarro for days, you and the kid basically pouted your way through it and requested Din for a little vacation.
Din could never resist the two of you so he had immediately agreed and now here you were, in Naboo, roaming its beautiful streets full of trees, overlooking lush green hills and surrounded by swampy lakes. The planet had a soothing and temperate climate that was a huge relief from the dry climate of Nevarro.
Naboo was also famous for its architectural marvels and sprawling markets. Currently, your clan of three was strolling through the market. You were in awe at the various shops that were showcasing beautiful jewelry, precious silks and fabrics and make up.
You had heard about the Naboo being especially talented in terms of various art forms. Be it painting, music, fashion or performing- the Naboo were well versed in all of it. You had also read about how they were keen on makeup. Their royal families, the royal servants, and even the common folk would paint their faces in creative ways during any special occasion.
"Din?", you looked up at him and adjusted Grogu in the crook of your elbow. He was too busy looking at the delicious food stalls with stars in his eyes.
"Yes, Cyare?", he immediately gave you his full attention and looked at you through his visor, his hand splayed on your lower back.
"Can we go and take a look at some make-up? I have heard that Naboo is famous for it and they are known for their exceptional quality."
"Of course, here, I'll take the kid", he extended his arms and you passed Grogu to him. Grogu let out a whine and pointed at the stalls with his ears raised.
Din let out a sigh and you smile at Grogu.
"Someone is getting hangry", you cooed at the little boy and massaged his ears. He looked at you and let out another whine as if saying 'Yes'.
"I'll get some food for him, you go and check out the shop. And don't worry about the credits, okay?", Din said quietly and gently squeezed your arm.
You gave Din a fond smile. You were having a comfortable time with the finances right now as he had taken up some high profile jobs so he spoiled the two of you all the time. You squeezed his hand back and booped Grogu's nose before parting from them.
-
The shop you had entered was huge. They had all types of make-up, stacked on shelves and it was all colour-coordinated. It looked like you had entered a library of make-up.
You could see all kinds of face powders, eyeshadows, lip products, perfumes, and what not, lined up neatly. Their packaging was of high quality and attractive. So attractive, that you felt like you wanted to buy them just as a show piece- that tearing their packaging apart and using up the product would feel like disrespect.
By now, you were staring at all those shelves with a look of awe plastered on your face and you mouth hanging open. You have never seen such a huge store primarily dedicated to make-up. Of course you own some make-up and Nevarro had a small shop that had some of the essentials but this? This was like a huge warehouse of it.
You were so busy admiring that you didn't notice the store owner standing next to you.
"Fascinating, isn't it?"
You jumped in surprise and turned to your right. A short, old woman was standing next to you professionally. She was wearing a matching two piece that was purple in colour, her frail hands were covered in rings studded with different jewels, her hair was almost fully gray and it was in a neat updo with flowers stacked in it. But what was striking was her face- elegantly done makeup that made her look sophisticated yet youthful at the same time. She looked like the right person for you to ask for help.
"Oh! Hello. I'm sorry I was a little distracted", you politely greeted her.
She laughed gracefully. "Oh, please, child. Don't apologise. I had the same look as you when I saw it for the first time. I was only 5 then. My mother owned this store before passing it on to me."
You gave her a surprised look. "Your mother? Wow, this shop has been here for a long time."
She smiled before looking around the store fondly. "Yes, it has. Tell me, what are you looking for?"
You smiled sheepishly. "Actually, I'm not sure. Maybe some lip products? We don't get many of those back home."
The woman smiled brightly. "Oh, I do love a good lip product. Come on, I know exactly what to show you."
She took you to the lip products sections section and sat you down in front of a vanity mirror before asking one of her employees to bring 2 baskets full of lip products to try.
-
You lost track of time trying out the shades and different types of lip products. Your lips were dry by now, after trying out so many products at once but you were happy because you ended up buying four of them- a brick red lipstick, your nude, a pink (of your choice) and a maroon/mauve shade. You were to about pay for them when your comm went off. It was Din. He knew very well that if anything went wrong, you could handle on your own but as your partner, he was allowed to be a little overprotective. Plus, his clan's safety was his number one priority.
"Cyare? Are you alright? It's been a while since you left", his modulated voice overflowing with concern.
You closed your eyes and cursed yourself for not informing him beforehand.
"I'm so sorry, honey. I got carried away and tried too many products in one sitting..", you murmured sheepishly.
You heard him heave a sigh of relief before he let out a breathy chuckle. "Oh, that's alright. I hope you enjoyed yourself?"
"Din, it was amazing. I will tell you all about it when we get back", you almost squealed. The shop owner, whose name was Tina, you found out, chuckled in amusement.
You got off the call with Din and paid for the products.
"Your husband?", she asked with a teasing smile on her face.
You blushed. You and Din weren't officially married, but you two acted like it and Din had removed his helmet in front of you, which held much more weight and importance.
"Yes", you admitted shyly. Tina chuckled.
"Well, all of our products are definitely kiss proof!", she winked at you.
You let out a bashful laugh and took her leave, with the promise of returning to buy more products.
-
You finally made your way back to them.
Din was standing with Grogu sitting comfortably in his arms. Grogu was chewing on a cookie and his tunic was dusted with the crumbs. As soon as you approached them, both of them turned their heads to look at you at the same time. They were so cute, you thought.
"Bu!", Grogu cooed at you and made grabby hands for you to hold him. Din huffed out an amusing laugh before transferring Grogu to your arms, taking away your bag of goods to hold in his hands.
"Traitor, only using me to get food", Din grumbled.
Grogu looked at him and ate his cookie as if saying, 'And?'
You laughed. "Oh, I'm glad you two had fun."
Din huffed. "Yeah, yeah. How was it, mesh'la?"
Your eyes brightened and you rambled to him about the entire experience on your way to the ship. Din listened to you with rapt attention, happy to see you happy.
-
Once you were back at the room you were staying in, Din took off his helmet and settled in before taking away Grogu to wash him up. You sat by the little dresser and observed the lip products intently. You thought about how Tina said they were kiss proof and an idea popped up in your head. You giggled to yourself and patiently waited for Din to come back.
After he was done with cleaning the kid, he came back and put the kid on the bed with his toys and colouring books before standing behind you at the dresser.
You looked at his handsome face through the mirror. You never got tired of looking at his helmetless face.
"Hi", you greeted him fondly.
He flashed you his dimpled, sweet smile for the first time since you woke up and put his hands on your shoulders. You could stare at his smile all day long. It made your chest hurt with love for him.
"Hi, cyare."
"Din, would you let me test my products on you?", you bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing.
He tilted his head like a puppy. He didn't know what the products were but he trusted you so, he nodded his head yes.
You asked him to sit down on the bed and wait.
You carefully applied the matte red lipstick and smoothened out the edges before closing the tube and turning to look at Din.
"How does it look?"
Din's eyes widened and he let out a tiny gasp.
"Whoa..", his soft baritone voice whispered. "Mesh'la. It suits you so much..”, he trailed off dreamily.
You let out a bashful giggle and approached him. He held your hands in his and brought you closer to stand in between his knees. He looked up at you with his pupils dilated, his eyes fixated on your lips. The deep red seemed to have brought out your eyes more, making them pop out and shine.
"Can I test it on you, now?"
That seemed to snap him out of his lovesick daze. How were you going to test it on him?
"Yeah, but how-"
You cut him off by pressing your lips to his. He immediately leaned into it but you broke the kiss before it went too far.
When you pulled back, you pressed your lips into a thin line as you saw that the colour had definitely transferred to Din’s lips. He was too distracted to notice that your lipstick had smudged.
The look on his face was downright hilarious. His eyebrows were drawn together so deeply that there was a dent in between his brows. He was frowning and he watched you go towards the dresser with his baby cow brown eyes.
You bit your tongue to stop yourself from laughing. He looked so offended it was adorable.
You removed the red lipstick and applied your nude. He was still staring at you, although he had managed to neutralise his expression now, before you came back and stood in between his legs.
You put your hands on his shoulders. He looked at you with that look in his eyes again.
“How does this one look, cyare?”, you asked him innocently.
He swallowed before flashing you a smile. He ran his eyes across your face and noticed how this shade brought out your natural features and made your lips look soft and full.
“It looks really good. Makes your features pop out naturally”, he responded gently before tugging a piece of hair behind your ear.
You gave him a loving smile.
“Okay now time to test this one.”
He perked up and closed his eyes in anticipation. You pursed your lips to stop the giggle from escaping because he was leaning forward with his lips slightly puckered. He placed his hands around your hips.
You dodged his lips and went over to kiss both of his cheeks. It was a sloppy kiss- that made a ‘smack’ sound. You pulled back and saw that there were two perfect kiss marks on his cheeks. And he was frowning again.
You couldn’t help it and let out a chuckle. He gave you a lopsided smile, trying to hide his disappointment.
You quickly moved to the dresser and removed the lipstick before applying the maroon/mauve shade. You sneaked a look at him through the mirror and noticed that he was clenching his hands and his eyes were darting across the room.
You were always in awe of his self-control. Not being able to kiss you must’ve taken everything in him to avoid pulling you closer and kissing you senseless. Especially since he had removed his helmet for the first time since morning today and you knew he was antsy to just love on you. Din Djarin was a respectful man. And if you didn’t want to take it further right now, then he would wait until you gave him the consent to.
He was trying to distract himself by playing with Grogu. You looked at them in the mirror and noticed the way Grogu let out little giggles and swatted at Din’s face to tell him about the kiss marks. You smiled to yourself and saw how Din was holding his hands and asked him to behave. Before he could figure it out, you decided to distract him.
“How’s this one, Din?”
Both of your boys looked up.
Grogu looked at you and pointed one of his little clawed hands at you and cooed loudly.
“Mweh!”, he smiled with his pointy teeth on show and looked at Din, as if telling you that Don’s face looked funny. “Bu!”. You just gave him a soft chuckle.
Din smiled at Grogu before turning his attention back to you. His cheeks were tinged with pink.
“Wow…mesh’la…you look so…”, he murmured and swallowed thickly before clearing his throat and pinned you with an intense stare.
“Hot.”
Your eyes widened and your cheeks felt warm. You shifted your gaze away from his.
“Shut up”, you choked out. Din rarely gives you such straight forward compliments but whenever he does, it makes you feel all warm inside.
He brought you closer and stared at your lips. You could feel his warm breath on your face.
“You don’t wanna test this one out, cyare?”, he teased.
You cleared your throat and smirked at him.“Ofcourse, I will.”
You decided to tease him some more and brushed his curls away from his forehead. He leaned closer until hour lips were barely touching and you quickly swiped up to loudly smooch his forehead.
You leaned back and saw a perfect kiss print right in the middle of his forehead and burst into a fit of giggles.
He closed his eyes tightly and whined. He thought you were making fun of him for his reactions to you missing his lips.
“Mesh’la….please..”, he whined and leaned his head to rest on your chest. You cooed at him and buried your hands in his curls.
“Last one, I promise, honey”, you told him softly and scratched his scalp.
He groaned quietly before nodded his head against your chest. He pulled away and let you go to the dresser to apply the last shade- the pink one.
“Your buir, is torturing me, grogu.”
Grogu looked up at Din with an ‘eh?’ and you laughed.
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic. Tell me, how’s this one?”, you said while standing in front of him again. The shade made matched your complexion perfectly.
You hummed and held his face in your hands, his scruff tickling your palm. Your thumbs gently rubbed the tiny patches in his beard that didn’t grow any hair and you saw the way he almost purred at that.
“Beautiful, as always, cyare”, Din responded sincerely and flashed you a meek smile.
You leaned in and gently, very slowly, placed a kiss on his aquiline nose. You couldn’t resist so you pressed quick little kisses all over his nose and the apple of his cheeks and he burst out in a fit of giggles. You leaned back to admire the way his face was twisted in joy. You’d do anything to keep him this happy always.
He couldn’t resist it anymore and gently put a hand behind your head and brought you closer before locking his lips with yours.
Din let out a content hum and brought up a hand to caress your cheek. Your lips slotted against each other and you leaned closer to press your nose against his cheek. You pulled back breathlessly, but not before pressing three quick kisses against his lips.
Din was looking at you with his eyes shining with love and you let out a soft laugh after looking at your artwork. All of the lipstick colours had merged into each other and his face was splotched with hues of reds, pinks and maroons. He looked so precious that you pinched his cheeks.
“You might wanna check yourself out in the mirror, Din”, you told him gently while trying not to laugh. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and got up to look at himself in the mirror.
The way his face flashed with a thousand expressions per minute was comical. He was shocked, then confused, then offended and suddenly he let out a loud, wheezing laugh and threw his head back.
Your eyes widened. You’ve never heard this before. You didn’t even know he could wheeze like that. Your face split in a massive grin and you just stared at him.
His eyes were crinkled at the corners, making his crowsfeet more pronounced, his dimple was fully on show and he was clutching his stomach. You don’t remember the last time he laughed so carelessly. And you being the reason of this? It made you feel all fuzzy and sweet inside.
Grogu was startled by the sound of his laugh. He cooed at you and asked you to pick him up.
“Look at buir, grogu”, you told him gleefully and brought him closer to Din.
As soon as he saw Din’s face, he squealed out loudly and touched his face with his little hands. Din squinted his eyes to look at Grogu while letting out tiny chuckles.
“So, this was the experiment?”, he asked you in between chuckles, his shoulders shaking.
You just flashed him a sweet smile and batted your eyes at him.
He stared at you are a second before leaning in and kissing you all over your face. You squealed and held his shoulders for support. Grogu squealed loudly and clapped his hands.
After his attack was over, Din pulled back and leaned his cheek against yours, looking at you in the mirror.
“Now we match”, he said cheekily.
You pressed your cheek harder against him and giggled before your eyes fell on the green child who was now biting his finger.
“Except for someone….”, you trailed off and looked at Grogu.
You and Din gave each other a look and you dived in, kissing Grogu on each cheek repeatedly. The entire room echoed with Grogu’s squeals and giggles.
Safe to say, your experiment was successful.
-
AN: i miss din and grogu so bad 💔
#din djarin x you#din djarin fluff#din djarin x reader#din djarin#star wars#the mandalorian#mando x reader#grogu djarin#baby grogu#pedro pascal#lucas films#din and grogu
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bad mood. l Joel Miller
before Jackson

Summary: bad moods were holding you all, then you found this place
Warnings: a bit of angst, but they finally make up, Ellie shows up, some swearing, guns, they're pretty mean to each other
A/N: This was requested by the wonderful @underneath-the-sky-again. thank you sweetie. I hope you enjoy it. it's short and boring!❤️
your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes
short stories from life. [masterlist]
It was a difficult time for Joel.
It all started with the worsening weather - the cold and rain were becoming more and more difficult and made you have to walk on roads that were drowning in mud and puddles. One day Ellie declared that even her underwear was wet and she was tired of this shitty march towards Jackson.
The shelter you found was of little use and you couldn't stay there for long for fear of riders or other intruders. Then something started happening to you. Joel noticed it immediately. You became quieter, and every time he pointed something out to you ended with a sarcastic comment or an angry look from you.
"Jesus, what's gotten into you..." Joel muttered once, irritated, and at his next remark you just shrugged your shoulders, mumbling something like "Whatever."
Your food supplies were dwindling, and the accommodations didn't allow you to rest. And that fucking weather. Joel knew exactly what was causing the bad moods. And he himself was becoming more grumpy and quiet.
When some buildings appeared on the horizon, you were already so tired that you didn't care anymore - you wanted to get there, hide and catch some sleep.
"It must have been a warehouse of nearby farms." Joel muttered, approaching the metal door.
"Do you think we'll find something to eat there?" Ellie asked hopefully.
Joel shrugged, he didn't want to tell her that he was counting on it too. He readied his weapon, and you did the same, Ellie was supposed to guard the entrance. There was a long, dark corridor in front of you. You both entered and your footsteps echoed quietly inside.
Soon it got dark and you turned on your flashlights to illuminate the place. Every now and then you passed a door, which you pushed gently, but it was closed.
"Shit." you hissed again, and Joel felt his irritation reaching its limit.
“Stop following me.” he finally muttered, even though he knew it was pointless, he kept repeating that you should stick together "You're going to give me a heart attack."
“Oh, do you want me to walk beside you? Maybe hold hands with you?” you snorted ironically.
You couldn’t see his face well, but you were sure Joel rolled his eyes. He had been annoying you so much lately, that you wanted to get away from him for a moment. With relief, you noticed a corridor leading off to the right.
“I’m going this way.” you declared.
“We should stick together.” he hissed.
“You just told me to fuck off.” you said angrily. “That’s exactly what I’m doing.”
“That’s not what I said!”
“Whatever.”
Fuck. He watched as your flashlight flickered and you moved further and further away from him. If you survived this night and didn’t kill each other, or someone didn’t kill you, Joel would consider it a success.
The corridor continued for some time until he finally stopped in a large room. Overturned shelves, remnants of warehouse equipment, but silence reigned everywhere. On the other side he noticed another door, this time with a sign indicating the cafeteria.
He was about to grab the door handle when he heard a strange noise from the other side. He put his working ear to the door and began to listen. A strange shuffling, something he couldn't identify. If those were clickers, then you were screwed. He didn't know where you were or if he would be able to find you fast enough.
Something slammed into the door, and then again. Joel adjusted his fingers on the rifle. He could take care of this quickly. If it was one or two clickers... Yeah, he should be able to handle it.
He grabbed the handle and yanked the door open, something fell out from behind it, and Joel aimed the barrel and...
You stared at him, and he saw surprise and fear in your eyes. He felt like something had cut off his power and his knees buckled.
"Fuck!" he groaned "I could have killed you!"
"After the last few days, I wouldn't be surprised." you replied, but you didn't sound too sure "I managed to get into this room, I wanted to get out and..."
Joel nodded, trying to calm his faster heartbeat. Then you lifted something you were holding in your hand. "Look what I found! It's not much, a few cans, but it's still something. I think it's some kind of soup, but I also saw risotto and some stew. Ellie will be happy."
You weren't wrong. As soon as you arranged your stay in one of the rooms, you started heating up what you found.
When the warm meal filled your stomachs, you immediately felt better. Ellie quickly regained her good mood. Eventually, however, she started yawning. She squeezed herself into the sleeping bag somehow, mumbled a quiet "Night!" and soon you heard her soft breathing.
You took a few sips of tea and adjusted the blanket that was thrown over your shoulders. Joel was sitting against the wall. He stretched his long legs in front of him and folded his arms across his chest, you could see that he was slowly dozing off.
"You should get some sleep." You said quietly, he opened his eyelids lazily "I'll take the first watch."
"No need." he replied, but then yawned.
You chuckled. "Do you want to keep arguing?" he shook his head and reached for the blanket.
He finally laid down. "Sorry I tried to kill you. I thought it was infected."
You looked at him with a smile "It's fine, but next time you should try harder."
He smiled and rubbed his eyelids with his hand. "Yeah, I'll try to remember that."
"Joel?" he looked at you once more, your face wasn't as tense anymore, you seemed more relaxed "I'm sorry I was such a bitch."
"It's fine, but next time you should try harder."
You both laughed quietly. The rain was pattering slower and slower on the roof and soon Joel's quiet snoring informed you that he had fallen asleep too.
☆☆☆☆
Thank you for your time.
taglist, i think: @picketniffler @orcasoul @bbyanarchist @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @somedayheaven
#pedro pascal#joel miller#the last of us#joel miller x reader#joel miller x f!reader#short stories from life
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the prayer pod's double purpose- fem!reader x gideon gemstone
warnings: smut, p in v, minors dni
“Gideon, slow down, please,” you giggled, stumbling slightly as you tried to keep pace with him. The concrete floor of the warehouse echoed with your footsteps, and the scent of cardboard and plastic wrap filled the air.
He stopped abruptly, spinning around to catch you. Before you could even get your balance, his hands were on your waist, his mouth covering yours in a hungry, breathless kiss. He pulled back just enough to whisper, “Can’t wait, baby.”
His fingers squeezed your hip, dragging you backwards until your spine met a pallet of boxes stacked high with overpriced gift shop merchandise. You barely had time to register the cold press of the shrink-wrapped cardboard before his hands were back on your skin, greedy and firm.
All day, he'd been simmering just under the surface. Watching you from across the breakfast table, dragging his eyes over the low cut of your sundress like he could burn it off with just a look. During the car ride, his fingers lingered too long on your bare thigh. He whispered promises behind your ear while helping you into your jacket, eyes lit with something darker, needier.
You'd barely made it out of the house this morning. He had you pressed up against the bathroom counter before you could even put your earrings on. It took everything in you to peel him off, laughing and flushed, reminding him that you had to leave. That people were waiting.
But now? Now the two of you were alone, ducked between towering shelves of branded water bottles and t-shirts.
Gideon’s fingers slid along the hem of your dress, teasing higher. “You knew what you were doing when you put this on,” he said lowly, grinning as he mouthed along your neck. “You wore this just to torture me.”
You gasped when his lips found that sweet spot under your ear, your back arching instinctively. “You’re insane.”
He chuckled, hands exploring now with full intention. “For you? Always.”
You clutched the collar of his shirt, lips meeting his again, this time slower, deeper, your whole body giving in to the tension that had been building since sunrise. The world outside disappeared, muffled by boxes and adrenaline and the ache of wanting someone so badly it made your knees shake.
Gideon took your hand and pulled you deeper into the warehouse, weaving between shelves of folded towels and half-unpacked boxes of sun hats. That’s when he spotted them.
Tucked away in a quiet corner, half-covered in plastic, were three glossy white "Prayer Pods". The compact, egg-shaped booths designed for silent meditation. Or at least, that was the intention.
He looked back at you with a slow, mischievous grin. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”
You stared at the pods. Your brows lifted. “Absolutely not.”
"Like we're the only ones to think of this."
But he was already pulling you toward the middle one, gently tugging aside the plastic wrap with the same reverence someone might unwrap a present on Christmas morning. He popped the hatch open, peeking inside. “Cushioned bench. Door that shuts. Mostly soundproof,” he added, knocking on the side. “Praise God.”
You rolled your eyes but followed him inside anyway, breath catching as he pulled the door shut behind you.
It was a snug fit, your knees pressed against his as you both adjusted on the bench. “You’re impossible,” you whispered, already breathless.
“And you're irresistible,” he shot back, cupping your face as his lips found yours again.
The kiss deepened in seconds. Hot, hungry, like it had been simmering all day. His hands slid down, gripping your thighs and pulling you closer, guiding you to lean down. The hem of your sundress bunched around your hips, and he groaned softly when his hands slipped beneath it, finding soft skin and thin fabric. His fingers circled your clit a few times. You gasped into his mouth as he hooked your panties and slowly, teasingly slid them down your legs. The fabric stretched, then gave way, pooling at your knees. He didn’t stop kissing you for a second, mouth trailing down your jaw, tasting your skin like he was starved. He helped you straddle him,
“Still think this was a bad idea?” he murmured, voice husky as he shifted beneath you.
You didn’t answer. Instead, you guided him closer, one hand braced on his shoulder as your body welcomed his, every inch of him filling you like he was meant to live there.
Your breath hitched as you sank down into his lap, hips trembling with the stretch. He cradled your hips, eyes squeezed shut, groaning quietly into your neck. The pod rocked ever so slightly.
You both stilled.
“...We gotta be quiet,” you warned, trying not to laugh through the haze of pleasure.
He opened his eyes, pupils dark with heat. “Then stop makin’ those sounds, baby.”
You rocked your hips, adjusting your knees on either side of him. Gideon's head fell back in a groan, holding your dress up just enough to be able to see your bodies connected. He choked on a sound halfway between a moan and a gasp, his eyes fluttering shut as your pace quickened. One of his hands came up to pull your dress down, revealing that you hadn't worn a bra. Your tits bounced with each roll of your hips, the movement hypnotic, testing every last nerve of his self-control.
“Fuck,” he grumbled, thrusting up into you, voice low and wrecked as he gripped your hips tighter, guiding your movements with a desperation that had been brewing all day.
You bit your lip to stifle the gasp threatening to rise. The narrow pod echoed every breath, every creak of the seat beneath you, amplifying the heat between your bodies. His eyes flicked open, dazed and wild, locked on your face like you were the only thing anchoring him to earth.
He leaned forward to kiss you again, deep and desperate, like you'd float away if he didn't. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging just enough to earn a groan from his throat. The pace between you was quickening, syncopated with breathless kisses and stuttered praise. He kissed down your chest, just once, before resting his forehead against your sternum, breath shaky.
“Can’t believe you wore this dress out the house,” he muttered, voice muffled against your skin. “You knew what you were doing.”
You whined. "Yeah. I did," you admitted. "Just thought the game would last longer."
Gideon huffed out a breathless laugh, his fingers digging into your hips. “Baby,” he groaned, like the word alone could hold back the avalanche of feeling threatening to overtake him.
"Give it to me, Gid," you breathed into his scalp. "Need you to fill me up so bad."
His hips jerked up in response, and the prayer pod creaked softly around you, your shared rhythm starting to break under the weight of how badly he needed you. His hand slid up your spine, grounding, reverent. "Yeah?"
"Mhm," you whined. You pulled back just far enough to see him, his flushed cheeks and the unsteady way his eyes flicked between your face and where you were still moving together, slow and sinful. "Want you drippin' outta me, baby."
Gideon’s breath caught in his throat. His grip on your hips faltered just a second before he surged up into you, burying his face in your chest with a groan so guttural it rattled through both of you.
“Jesus,” he muttered, lips brushing your skin like a prayer, “you can’t just say shit like that.”
You laughed, breath shaky, tightening around him in response. “Why not?” you teased, fingers threading back into his hair. “It’s true.”
He pulled back to look at you, eyes dark, heavy with heat and awe. “You’re gonna kill me,” he whispered, like it was the best way to go.
You rocked your hips again and felt him twitch inside you.
“I better,” you smirked.
That pushed him over the edge.
His pace stuttered, hands clutching you tighter, and his eyes snapped shut as he groaned your name into the space between your breasts. He spilled into you with a final desperate thrust, hips twitching as he rode it out, muttering broken praise against your skin.
When you finally stilled, both of you shaking, breathless, clinging to each other in the cramped, holy heat of the pod, he chuckled weakly.
"Now, imagine one of these in every shopping mall," Jesse's voice boomed, getting closer with each step.
Your heart jumped into your throat. Gideon's eyes widened, panic written all over his face as Jesse's footsteps got louder, his voice echoing through the warehouse.
“Think about it, y’all! Prayer pods right between Auntie Anne’s and the Build-A-Bear! You feel the Lord, and you get a pretzel-"
Gideon shoved your panties into his pocket without thinking and grabbed your waist to help you off his lap, steadying you as silently as possible. Your knees wobbled, thighs still trembling. He reached for your dress, trying to pull it down while you shoved your chest back into place. He stopped the door from sliding open just as Jesse tried to open it.
"Dad," he breathed, defeated. "Please, do not open this door."
There was a beat of silence on the other side of the door.
“…Gideon?” Jesse asked, confused. “What in the everlovin’ fuck? Are you-"
Gideon let his forehead thud softly against the wall. “Yes, sir.”
“With someone?” Jesse’s voice pitched up, scandal and glee bubbling under the surface.
You clapped a hand over your mouth to keep from making a sound, cheeks burning, still halfway tangled in Gideon's lap and wrinkled Sunday dress. You felt tears of embarrassment forming. Gideon ran a hand soothingly over your arm.
"Yes," he admitted. "I’m begging you not to open this door. Please."
From outside, you heard a sharp intake of breath, followed by Jesse muttering to himself, voice fading away. “Whatever. Wipe down the bench and- this is the last time I ever try to come up with something."
#gideon gemstone#gideon gemstone x you#the righteous gemstone#gideon gemstone x reader#gideon gemstone x fem reader#the righteous gemstones#gideon gemstone fanfic#fanfic
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The walking dead men react to the reader being injured
(Rick Grimes, Daryl Dixon, Negan Smith )
The air had been thick with unease all morning. Rick had felt it in his gut, a tight knot of anxiety that seemed to anticipate the inevitable horrors of their world. He'd voiced his concerns to you, his voice rough with the protectiveness that had become a constant undercurrent in their relationship. "Stay close today, (Y/N). Let the others handle the supply run. It's not worth the risk."
He'd always hated those supply runs. They were necessary, a grim dance with death for the sake of survival, but each time you ventured out, a piece of him went with you, held hostage by the unknown dangers lurking beyond their walls. Your stubbornness, your fierce independence, was a source of both admiration and endless worry for him.
You, of course, being who you are – resilient, determined, and perhaps a bit too headstrong – had brushed off his concerns with a confident smile and a reassuring, "I can handle myself, Rick. We need the supplies, and I'm not going to hide in a tower while everyone else risks their lives." He knew that look in your eyes, the unwavering resolve that mirrored his own, and it simultaneously filled him with pride and dread.
The warehouse was a tomb of forgotten goods, a macabre supermarket filled with the ghosts of a world that was. The team had split up, methodically clearing the aisles, the rhythmic thwack of walkers being silenced a constant backdrop to their scavenging. You were in the back, searching for medical supplies, when it happened.
A section of the floor, weakened by years of neglect and decay, gave way beneath your feet. The world turned upside down in a dizzying rush, and you plunged into the darkness below, the air knocked from your lungs. The pain was immediate, a sharp, searing agony that shot through your ankle.
The fall wasn't far, maybe ten feet, but it was enough. You landed awkwardly, your weight twisting your ankle at an unnatural angle. A strangled cry escaped your lips, lost in the cavernous space. You tried to stand, to assess the damage, but the white-hot pain radiating from your ankle forced you back down.
The silence that followed your fall was deafening, broken only by the distant moans of the undead. It was the silence that alerted Rick. He’d been further up ahead, but something in the air shifted in the moment you fell – the absence of your usual steady rhythm of movement, the shift of the wind, he couldn't really explained it. It was like a chord was struck between them, and now he felt the jarring off-key note as if his own leg had been broken.
He moved with a speed born of desperation, his heart hammering against his ribs. He vaulted over overturned shelves, ignoring the startled looks of the others, his focus solely on finding you. When he reached the back of the warehouse and saw the gaping hole in the floor, his blood ran cold.
"(Y/N)!" His voice was raw with fear, echoing through the warehouse. He peered into the darkness below, his eyes struggling to adjust. "Answer me!"
Your answering whimper was weak, barely audible, but it was enough. Relief washed over him in a dizzying wave, quickly followed by a surge of anger – anger at the world, at the walkers, at the carelessness of the warehouse owners, and yes, a little bit at you for not listening to him. He spotted you crumpled below, your face pale and streaked with dirt, and immediately began to figure out how to get you out.
He didn't hesitate. With practiced efficiency, he secured a rope to a sturdy beam and rappelled down into the hole. He landed beside you, his face etched with concern. "Don't try to move," he said, his voice gentler now, the anger momentarily forgotten. "Let me see."
The moment he touched your ankle, a fresh wave of pain washed over you. You gasped, clutching his hand tightly. "(Y/N), I know it hurts, but I need to check it," he said softly, his eyes filled with worry. He gently probed the injured area, his touch both firm and incredibly tender.
His face hardened. "It's a bad sprain, maybe a break. We need to get you back to camp."
Lifting you was a challenge, but Rick managed, cradling you carefully in his arms. The climb back up the rope was agonizingly slow, each movement sending jolts of pain through your body. But you held on, focusing on Rick's face, on the strength in his arms, on the love that shone in his eyes.
Back at camp, Rick was a whirlwind of activity. He barked orders, organizing a makeshift splint, gathering supplies, and ensuring you were as comfortable as possible. His usual gruff exterior softened around the edges, replaced by a tenderness that was reserved only for you.
He sat beside you, his hand gently stroking your hair as the camp doctor (or the closest thing they had) examined your ankle. The diagnosis was as he suspected: a broken bone and a very bad sprain. You were grounded for a while.
Once you were settled, Rick finally allowed himself to truly focus on you. He knelt beside your cot, his eyes searching your face. "Why didn't you listen to me?" he asked, his voice a low rumble. There was anger there, yes, but also a deep, palpable fear.
"I… I thought I could handle it," you mumbled, avoiding his gaze.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I know you can. You're the strongest person I know. But sometimes, even the strongest people need to be careful. You scared me, (Y/N)."
You reached out, taking his hand in yours. "I'm sorry, Rick. I didn't mean to."
He squeezed your hand tightly. "Just… promise me you'll be more careful. Promise me you'll listen to me, just this once."
"I promise," you whispered.
He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Good. Now, get some rest. I'm not leaving your side."
The next few days were a blur of pain, boredom, and Rick's unwavering attention. He brought you food, read to you from scavenged books, and sat with you for hours, just talking, or sometimes, just being.
He meticulously tended to your ankle, changing the bandages, ensuring it was properly supported, and offering endless words of encouragement. He was surprisingly gentle, his large hands moving with a delicate precision that belied his rugged exterior.
At night, he would lie beside you, holding you close, his body a warm and comforting presence against the chill of the night. He’d whisper assurances that you were safe, that he would always protect you. His presence was all you needed.
One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, you looked at him, really looked at him, and saw the depth of his love for you. It was etched in the lines around his eyes, in the weariness that clung to his shoulders, and in the unwavering devotion that shone in his gaze.
"Thank you, Rick," you said softly. "For everything."
He smiled, a rare and precious thing. "Always, (Y/N). Always."
Though the injury was a setback, it also brought you and Rick closer. It was a reminder of the fragility of life, the importance of cherishing every moment, and the strength of the bond that held you together.
For Rick, it reinforced his need to protect you, to shield you from the horrors of the world, even though he knew it was an impossible task. But he would keep trying, every single day, because your safety, your happiness, was his greatest priority. And you, healed or injured, meant the world to him.
And maybe, just maybe, you learned a valuable lesson about listening to Rick... just a little bit. The injury mended, but the memory of his worry, his love, and his very brief anger would stay with you forever.
As the days turned into weeks, your ankle slowly healed. You returned to your duties, stronger and more determined than ever. But you never forgot the fear in Rick's eyes, the tightness of his grip, the depth of his love. And you promised yourself, and him, that you would be a little bit more careful... for him.
The air hung thick with the scent of woodsmoke and damp earth, a typical Tuesday at the Sanctuary. Daryl had warned you – his voice a low growl, eyes narrowed in that way that both intimidated everyone else and sent a shiver of something akin to excitement down your spine. "Leave that scavenging run to me and Rick. The woods ain't safe right now, not with those whispers movin' about."
You, of course, had smiled sweetly, kissed his cheek, and promised to be careful. Promises, it seemed, were easily broken when a nearby town was rumored to contain a stash of much-needed medical supplies. You knew the infirmary was running low, and the guilt gnawed at you when you saw the lines etched deeper around the doctor’s eyes.
Daryl knew you too well. He saw the glint of determination in your eyes, the subtle set of your jaw. He knew that "careful" in your vocabulary meant something entirely different than in his. It usually meant pushing yourself beyond the limits.
The sight of you being carried back to the Sanctuary, pale and bleeding, was like a punch to Daryl's gut. Negan's men had found you. One bullet straight to the shoulder. He felt the familiar, icy rage creep up his spine. He wanted to hunt them down, tear them apart, make them understand the cost of hurting what was his.
But his focus snapped back to you. Your face was pale, streaked with dirt and blood. Your breathing was shallow. The world narrowed to the rise and fall of your chest, the faint pulse at your throat.
He pushed his way through the small crowd that had gathered, his face a mask of fury that sent even the most hardened survivors stepping back. He didn't say a word, just knelt beside you, his large, calloused hand gently brushing a stray strand of hair from your forehead.
The Sanctuary's infirmary was a sterile, cold place, but with Daryl beside you, it felt like the safest place on earth. He watched the doctor work, his eyes never leaving your face. He didn't flinch when the bullet was removed, didn't avert his gaze when your breath hitched in pain.
His anger was a tangible thing, a storm brewing beneath the surface. It was directed at the Saviors who hurt you, at the world that had forced you into this brutal existence, and maybe, just maybe, a little bit at you for being so damn reckless.
Once the doctor was done, and you were resting, Daryl settled into the chair beside your bed. He ran a thumb lightly over your knuckles, his touch surprisingly gentle. "You're lucky," he murmured, his voice rough. "Could've been worse."
You stirred, your eyes fluttering open. The pain in your shoulder was a dull throb, but the sight of Daryl's face above you eased the discomfort. "Hey," you whispered, your voice raspy.
He didn't smile, but the lines around his eyes softened. "Hey yourself. What were you thinking?" The question wasn't accusatory, but laced with a raw, vulnerable concern.
"Needed those supplies," you mumbled, trying to sit up. Daryl gently pushed you back down.
"Don't you move," he ordered, but the edge was gone from his voice. "Damn supplies ain't worth your life."
He sat in silence for a long moment, his gaze intense. "You gotta stop," he said finally, his voice low and earnest. "Stop tryin' to carry the world on your shoulders. Let me help you."
You reached out, your fingers tangling with his. "I just wanted to do something good," you said, your voice barely audible.
"You do good every damn day," he said, his thumb stroking your hand. "Just stay put, let me take care of things sometimes."
As the days passed, Daryl became your shadow. He brought you food, changed your bandages, and sat beside you for hours, offering only brief, gruff comments, but his presence was a constant comfort.
He was fiercely protective, his eyes scanning every person who entered the infirmary. He made sure you had everything you needed, even things you didn't ask for – an extra blanket, a cup of herbal tea, a worn copy of a book he’d found somewhere.
One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, you found him sitting by your window, staring out at the world. He looked weary, his shoulders slumped.
"Daryl?" you whispered.
He turned, his gaze softening as it met yours. He came to your bedside and sat down, his hand finding yours. "I hate seein' you hurt," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Scares me."
You squeezed his hand. "I know," you said softly. "I'm sorry."
He looked at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours. Then, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. It was a chaste, tender gesture, but it spoke volumes.
Your shoulder healed slowly, but with each passing day, your strength returned. And with it, the bond between you and Daryl deepened. The injury had been a harsh reminder of the dangers they faced, but it had also revealed the depth of their love and the strength of their connection.
You learned to listen to his warnings, to trust his judgment. He, in turn, learned to temper his protectiveness with understanding, to allow you to be the strong, independent woman he loved, even in the face of danger.
The scars, both physical and emotional, remained – a testament to the hardships they had endured. But they were also a symbol of their resilience, their ability to find love and hope in a world consumed by darkness. And in Daryl's eyes, you were more beautiful, more precious, than ever before. His gruff exterior hid a heart that beat only for you. You were his strength, his weakness, and the reason he kept fighting. And he would protect you, always, even from yourself.
The road ahead was uncertain, but as long as they had each other, they knew they could face anything. Their love was a beacon in the darkness, a promise of hope in a world that had long forgotten what it meant to be human. And it was a love that would endure, forged in the fires of survival, tempered by tenderness, and sealed with a kiss that spoke of forever.
The sight that greeted Negan when he burst through the door wasn't one he was prepared for. You, his everything, were slumped against the kitchen counter, a crimson stain blooming on your arm. The air hung thick with the metallic tang of blood, and a wave of nausea slammed into him. The world tilted on its axis.
It ignited instantly, a white-hot fury directed at everything and nothing. How dare you? How dare you be so reckless, so careless with yourself when he'd specifically warned you? He had told you not to go beyond the walls alone. Lucielle felt heavy in his hand, the leather digging into his palm as he fought the urge to slam it against something, anything. It was a primal rage, born of fear and helplessness. He felt betrayed by your actions, as if you didn't value his concern, his love. It was a harsh, ugly emotion, but it was there, undeniable.
The anger warred with a desperate need to assess the damage. His eyes darted over you, cataloging the severity of the wound. His breath hitched, and his heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird. He needed to know how bad it was, how close he came to losing you. The need to fix it, to make it better, surged through him, eclipsing the anger for a fleeting moment.
A growl rumbled in his chest, low and guttural. It wasn't directed at you, but at the world that had dared to harm you. Anyone who had laid a hand on you would face his wrath, a wrath fueled by a love so fierce it bordered on obsession. He was your protector, your shield, and the thought of failing in that role was unbearable.
He forced himself to breathe, to bank the flames of his anger before they consumed him. He couldn't afford to lash out, not now. You needed him to be strong, to be calm. He had to be the anchor in this storm, even if his own insides were churning. He unclenched his fists, forcing his muscles to relax, a visible effort that tightened the muscles in his jaw.
With agonizing slowness, he knelt before you, his large frame suddenly seeming impossibly gentle. His eyes, moments ago blazing with fury, softened with concern. He reached out, his calloused hand hovering over your injured arm, as if afraid to touch you, afraid of causing more pain. The transformation was startling, a testament to the depth of his love.
His voice, when it came, was raspy, laced with a mixture of anger and worry. "What the hell happened? I told you not to go out there alone!" The words were sharp, but the underlying tremor betrayed his fear. He couldn't help the rebuke, it was a reflex born of pure terror. He needed you to understand the risk you had taken, the pain you had inflicted on him by your recklessness.
Despite his anger, his actions were tender, careful. He retrieved a clean cloth and pressed it gently against the wound, his brow furrowed in concentration. He cleaned the blood away with painstaking precision, his touch surprisingly light. Each movement was deliberate, infused with a desperate need to heal you, to erase the damage.
"Who did this? What were you thinking? How could you be so careless?" The questions tumbled out, a jumbled mess of concern and frustration. He needed answers, not just to understand what happened, but to understand why. Why would you disregard his warnings? Why would you put yourself in danger?
As he worked, his voice dropped to a near whisper. "I was so scared. When I saw the blood… I thought… I thought I'd lost you." The vulnerability in his voice was rare, a glimpse behind the carefully constructed mask of bravado. It was a confession of his deepest fear, the fear of living without you.
Once the wound was cleaned and bandaged, his focus shifted entirely to your comfort. He eased you into a chair, his strong arms supporting your weight. He brought you water, stroking your hair as you drank. He wrapped you in a blanket, creating a cocoon of warmth and सुरक्षा.
With you nestled safely in his arms, the anger resurfaced, but this time it was cold and calculating. He leaned close, his breath warm against your ear. "Whoever did this… they'll pay. I promise you that." It was a vow, a promise etched in steel. No one harmed what was his and lived to tell the tale.
He stayed by your side, a silent guardian. He watched you sleep, his hand resting protectively on your arm. The lines of worry etched on his face slowly smoothed out as he saw you resting peacefully. He was still angry, still shaken, but above all, he was grateful. Grateful that you were alive, grateful that he could still hold you, still protect you.
The next morning, he was up before you, making breakfast. He brought you a plate piled high with your favorite foods, a silent offering of apology and affection. As you ate, he sat across from you, his gaze intense. "You scared me, darlin'," he said, his voice low and serious. "Don't ever do that again. I can't lose you." He reached across the table, taking your hand in his. His grip was firm, possessive. "Promise me."
Despite the anger, the fear, the recriminations, the incident only served to strengthen the bond between you and Negan. It was a reminder of the depth of his love, the fierceness of his protection, and the vulnerability that lay beneath his tough exterior. It was a testament to the fact that even in a world filled with danger and uncertainty, love could still flourish, fierce and unwavering. He would continue to watch over you, cherishing every moment, and reminding you, in his own unique and sometimes terrifying way, just how much you meant to him. Because, in the end, you were his world, and he would do anything to keep you safe.
#the walking dead#love#twd#popular posts#rick grimes#the walking dead daryl#daryl dixon#negan smith#the walking dead negan#twd daryl#injury#injured#rick grimes fanfiction#rick grimes the walking dead#twd rick#the walking dead rick grimes#daryl#daryl dixon fanfiction#negan the walking dead#negan twd#daryl fanfiction#daryl x reader#daryl dixon x female reader#daryl dixon x y/n#twd negan#negan#negan smith x you#negan smith x y/n#rick grimes x y/n#rick grimes x reader love
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Hey!! Can I get D11 with Kaz Brekker, please? Thank you!!
Prompt: D11. Books
TWO FOOLS
When Kaz had suddenly invited you to one of the warehouses he owned that morning, you didn’t really know what to expect. Jesper joked that if he didn’t know it was Kaz, it’d sound like he’s going to propose to you. And to be honest, that’s what crossed your mind too first. But you had only been properly together for a few months, surely he wouldn't ask you anything like that, at least not yet. And you hadn’t actually agreed to date, Kaz wasn’t that kind of person who would actually call himself your boyfriend or ask you to date him. It was enough that you knew he loved you. You had been friends since little kids, you had first met him before the whole Jakob Hertzoon-Pekka Rollins case. Jordie had liked you and teased Kaz who apparently had formed a crush on you from first sight.
But getting to this position, actually knowing he loved you and was devoted to you was a whole different story. Kaz showed little gestures of affection every once in a while, but he had turned oddly secretive the moment you told him that there’s a bunch of books that you’d like to read but you either can’t find them anywhere or can’t afford them. And now, a few days from that, Kaz had left you a note, slid it under your door. Meet me at the warehouse I acquired recently, the one that’s two streets from the Slat.
But when you made your way to the warehouse Kaz had pointed you to, the sight that greeted you when he opened the door left you speechless.
Books. A whole library of them. Different sections, genres, sorted out by author. Some shelves were still empty, but others were full to the brim. At the empty wall, there was a large couch and one of Kaz’s treasured DeKappels hanging over it. Or it was likely a replica because he would never let a DeKappel out of his sight for long periods unless it was in his office. But even so, Kaz doing that all by himself would have taken weeks.
You gaped at the sight for a moment longer before you turned to look at Kaz, who had a small smirk on his face. “How did you–”
“I used a few favors. People were happy to pay their debt off by… donating to this and working with transforming this old place. It was leaking and it also was freezing, so I hired a few Fabrikators to make sure this stays warm and they consulted a Tidemaker to help make sure the roof no longer leaks.” He cocked his head, running his hand over one empty shelf, frowning at the dust on his glove. “I thought I made it clear this should be clean enough to see your reflection, but there’s always some idiots who don’t listen. I will call them back later. But otherwise it’s yours to use.”
You felt like kissing him and you would have, if your relationship was in that stage. “This all just for me? You did this all for… just me?”
He didn’t look at you, letting his eyes wander around the space, clearly proud of his little surprise. “You and anyone you decide to bring here.”
“Kaz, I…” You turned to him, your eyes still wide. “This is probably the nicest and the most romantic thing someone has ever done for me.”
His eyes flickered to you briefly, and he grunted. “I realised that a… relationship like ours needs me to contribute too and not just you.”
You chuckled and shook your head. “Inej told you that, didn’t she?”
He didn’t reply. You heard the leather of his gloves creaking as he adjusted his grip on his cane, before he spoke again. “Most people think I’m a rotten case.”
You huffed. “You’re not.”
“You’re a fool for actually believing that.”
“That makes us two fools, then.”
Kaz fell silent again, and you stepped closer, fiddling with his sleeve. “But you’re my favourite fool.”
He didn’t reply again, but you knew what he wanted to say from the way he looked at you.
And you are mine.
You knew he wasn’t ready for such endearments spoken out loud, but you knew how he felt about you. You weren’t a heartender, nor were you any other kind of a Grisha, but you just understood each other that way.
And you were perfectly fine with that. Because what you had was special.
Requests are open! FANDOM LIST | PROMPT LIST(S) | RULES (READ!!!)
#kaz brekker x reader#kaz brekker x y/n#kaz brekker#six of crows#six of crows fanfic#kaz brekker x you#shadow and bone x reader#shadow and bone#grishaverse x reader#grishaverse#grishaverse fanfic#reader insert#shadow and bone imagine#sab#sab x reader#sab imagine#six of crows imagine#grishaverse imagine#gn reader#my works#romantic
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I honestly think your research around set and draft boosters has a fatal flaw… draft boosters were typically unavailable from distributors according to my LGSs. So they ordered the product they could get, which was set boosters. So I bought the product I could get, which was set boosters. It’s very easy to skew research due to an unknown variable and trying to determine consumer behaviour on a mass scale based on sales data and the few who answer surveys is really hard.
You think we didn't spend a lot of time and energy trying to understand what did and didn't sell and why? We have a whole section of the company that gathers and analyzes business data.
The reason your LGS had trouble buying draft boosters is most likely due to their distributors getting burned by buying too many draft boosters and not having enough stores ordering it, so they lowered their allocation to adjust, erring on carrying the product they knew wouldn't get stuck on their warehouse shelves.
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Rose Thorn Blues | pt. 5 (final)
Peter Parker x fem!reader
Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Masterlist
Summary: Spider-Man saved everyone he could. But this time, you have to save him — and yourself.
Word count: ~10.4k
Warnings: Enemies to lovers!! (We're finally to the lovers part <3) Canon-level violence. Swearing, blood, injuries. Angst. Fluff and more fluff!! Love confessions!!! And smooching ;)
A/n: Today's my birthday, so here's a little birthday present to all of you :) Thank you all for your patience with this story. It's the longest one I've written, and I'm grateful for everyone that's read it. Your comments mean the world.
I'd be happy to write an epilogue or little snippets of their lives during or after this story if anyone would be interested. Thank you, and I hope you enjoy <3
Pain. Unrelenting pain settling deep into your body was the first thing you noticed. Your closed eyes squeezed shut harder as the back of your head pounded, a shaky exhale leaving your cracked lips. You could feel dried tears stuck along the planes of your cheeks.
When you tried moving your arms, you found you couldn’t — not with them bound behind you to the chair you sat in, and not with the deep ache stretching from your shoulders down to your wrists. The skin there felt rubbed nearly raw by rope holding them together. Even your chest and ankles were tied to the chair.
Despite the ache in your ribs, you forced yourself to take long, deep breaths. Each one shook through you. Blinking slowly, you let your blurry vision adjust. The bright fluorescents were now dimmer than before, only half of them on. You shivered slightly, goosebumps raising across your skin in the cool temperature of the warehouse.
Forms of people here and there began to come into focus in front of you. They seemed to be packing things into large boxes, the same wooden ones you’d seen before. And as you took in the tall windows and many shelves, you saw that you were in a shadowy corner of this godforsaken warehouse.
You could’ve screamed if your throat wasn’t so dry and your head wasn’t swimming. Your jaw ached as you clenched your teeth together over and over again. Panicked, uncontrolled thoughts flew through your hazy awareness. No matter how hard you tried to swallow them back, you couldn’t ignore the worry festering in your stomach — one uneasy idea decomposing into another.
Where was Peter?
A thin breath punched from your lungs as you remembered the hurt in his voice over the phone. He’d never allowed you to see him like that before, but still, you could picture his face twisting and the blood staining his suit dark. The image floated on the edges of your vision as you scanned the people moving throughout the warehouse.
Somehow, no guard stood watch over you. If what Will had said before about his horrible suit being missing, his workers must have been scouring the city — stretching his people thin and unable to be everywhere all at once.
With a possible window of opportunity open and beckoning you to take, you shifted your wrists, testing out the rope around them. Wiggling your arms made the binding a tiny bit looser. Each movement stretched them out but brought burning pain with it. It wouldn’t get you anywhere but tired and too hurt to function.
Like Peter, desperate and hurt. Who tried to keep you from walking into your demise… using secrets and lies. You clenched your teeth, hoping the pressure of it could shove away these half-feelings twisting and knotting around themselves.
So, you looked around, careful not to turn your head too abruptly in case any workers looked over. Though, even from afar, all of them looked terrified to do anything but hastily pack. Orders from Will himself, you were sure of it.
From the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of a jagged metal beam broken and sticking out from a beat-up shelf. It looked dull, but it came to a point. It’d have to do.
As silently as you could, you used your feet to inch the chair backward — timing each push with the sound of people shouting at one another or loudly loading up a crate. Your ears rang and your rapid heartbeat dulled your focus, distracting you with each intense spike of your nerves firing off.
Over several minutes, you positioned your bound hands to the piece of metal shelving and began to rub the rope across it. You paused at each lull, each possible moment that you might be caught. It gave you temporary relief from the strain pulling in your shoulders as you continued sawing away at the rope.
Sweat beaded across your skin as time passed — how long exactly, you weren’t sure. But eventually, the strands turned thinner. They felt as tight and ready to snap as your resolve. But when the rope loosened, becoming big enough for your hands to wiggle out, it instead filled your body with quenching relief.
The rope had barely pooled along the concrete floor before you began working on the binding stretching across your chest to hold your torso to the chair. It was tedious and forced your aching arms in horrible positions, but you pulled and pulled at the binding, squirming around to even gain an inch of room.
It kept catching on the bunched-up fabric of your clothes, but it moved. So, so slowly, it moved. It was an effort to keep your breaths silent when you wanted nothing more than to just shout for anyone to come help you. But Peter wasn’t here to help, so you sunk your teeth into your lip and kept quiet as the rope loosened.
Pushing your elbows out, you slipped the rope over your head. You allowed yourself only one unrestrained inhale before bending at the waist and working on the knot tying your ankles to the chair. Your fingers worked quickly, your eyes constantly trained on the workers as you moved. But the sight of that rope falling from your body made you blink away stinging tears.
Your best bet would likely be looking for a back exit and hoping you could sneak by anyone there — or fight your way out if it came to that. On unsteady legs, you raised yourself up, ignoring the wave of sharp pain pulsing at the back of your head and down your spine.
But before you could even take a step, get a real breath of freedom in your lungs, a sharp blade appeared at your neck.
“Going somewhere, sunshine?”
Within an instant, William Beaumont appeared next to you, and had he not held a tight grip to your upper arm, you might have collapsed. Though the blade pressed against you, your body instinctually writhed to get away from him. But even in the dim lighting, you saw the darkness that clung to him, the stillness in his eyes, the heavy weight he held. This wasn’t the Will you met before.
“Or Rose, is it?” he asked, his voice cold and calculated.
He pulled you forward and yanked your arms behind you. Your throat felt tight, your chest ready to rip open as you felt a zip tie tighten around your wrists — the plastic rubbing right where the rope had been just minutes ago. It had been too easy. Did he give you that hope on purpose? Just a lion toying with its food? A wretched feeling of fear shot through you at the thought.
Will shoved you back in the chair, a labored grunt shooting out of your lungs and a dizziness hitting you. Once he was sure you weren’t going to get up again, he took a step back, careful to keep the long blade pointed at your throat.
You dully registered a piece of wood rolling to your feet as Will aimlessly paced before you, kicking scattered debris. Sweat coated his skin, his hair damp against his forehead. For a minute, he just wordlessly walked back and forth, his eyes staring unfocused toward the ground. But you couldn’t look at his face for long, not with the sunken shadows settling into each curve of his expression. He almost looked sickly. Your gaze instead dropped to the handgun tucked into the back of his waistband; then you looked to the sharp piece of metal in his hand, recognizing it as one of the wrecked pieces from the Green Goblin’s glider.
When he paused, your breaths stopping too, he turned to stare at you. “Where’s my suit?” he asked, simply and without room for negotiation.
Despite the nearly deafening roaring of your heartbeat, you held his stare and willed your voice to come out steady. “Where’s your father?”
He raised an eyebrow at you, and you wondered how you hadn’t ever seen the similarities between those two before — the eerie air around them.
“Ellis is a bit busy at the moment. Why? Want to snoop around his mansion some more?” He tilted his head, pursing his lips just slightly. The look brought an anger next to your fear — anger and frustration that they could do good with what they had and keep their promises, but they were just adding more filth to the city.
He came closer then, squatting down so he was nearly eye level with you. You could barely stand to look at him this close, but you did your best not to flinch away. It was just another character you had to play.
Almost unnoticeable, you saw him wince in pain as he lowered. Watching him, you swallowed the fear trickling down your spine and asked, “Feeling sore?” At his unimpressed look, you merely squared your shoulders, raising your chin.
A breathy half-laugh escaped his lips. He stared down at his hand as he flexed it. “Jus’ some growing pains…” He shrugged. “ No change comes without a cost.”
“And is the cost worth all this?” you asked, your eyes motioning to the wreckage of the warehouse behind him.
“I’m just living up to the Beaumont family name. We’re cutting through endless miles of red tape with a snap of my fingers. I think you know the answer.”
“Your fingers?” you questioned. “Ellis is making you do all the dirty work?”
Will just rolled his eyes, his grip growing tighter on the blade. Letting out a sharp breath, he stood up, his body wavering just barely as he did so. Still, you went rigid as he towered over you. “Where’s the suit?”
You shook your head, trying to stay calm. But your resolve, this mask, pulled in all directions. “You said you wanted to educate people. What kind of change can be worth whatever you have planned? Worth a super suit and bodily experiments?” You remembered the way he’d bent the shelving’s metal like it was nothing.
“I prefer the term enhancements actually. Because they have made me better. Made it easier to ‘negotiate’ with clients. To educate the city on who really controls things around here.” He stared down at you, letting his words sink in.
Your tone rose, a tightness taking hold of your throat. “And who controls it? It’s certainly not you if your daddy’s bossing you around.” Despite the cold anger flaring behind his features, you continued. “Who says he won’t just keep you as his little lackey to do his bidding forever?”
His jaw twitched, his hand gripping the blade harder. You fought the terrified waves of nausea sitting in your stomach as he said, “Shut your mouth. You know nothing about the empire he’s planned for me.”
Your voice lowered with venom pooling around your tongue, one eyebrow raising. “Oh, and he’d never lie for his own personal gain, right? Even at the harm of others?”
“Where’s the suit?” he gritted out.
“I don’t know.”
You jolted backward as he slammed the metal blade against one of the shelves. The echoing clang of the hit made you curl into yourself, the blood draining from your heart.
His hand raised high, clenched above his head, before it slowly unfurled. He pressed his fingers into his temples. “I’m not in the fucking mood for this.” Punctuating each word with a step closer, he said, “Where. Is. The. Suit?”
A pulsing vein appeared along his neck, his breathing coming harder. Your hope of getting out of here dwindled with each second he got closer to losing it.
Trying to keep your voice calm, you said, “Will, I swear I don’t know.”
He charged toward you then, gripping your chin in his hand despite the yelp you let out. “You’ve come to this warehouse before. You’ve been in our house. You stole blueprints. And you think I’m going to believe you?”
You let out a shaky exhale, muscles twitching and screaming at you to get away from him. “I never broke in here. I wouldn’t be able to take all those boxes of the suit by myself, not without being seen. I don’t know where it is.”
His gaze considered you, roaming across your face like he was listing all the ways to torture the information from you. “Then you had help. Maybe that little ‘husband’ of yours knows — he might talk more than you when we find him.” He paused, his hold on you growing a little tighter, making you wince. “And that spider will talk when we string him up and force it out of him.”
Your expression dropped, your eyebrows tightening together. So they didn’t know Peter was Spider-Man, at least not yet. And if you could get out of here alone, it could stay that wa-
A flash of red flew past the windows near the warehouse’s ceiling. Any sense of calm, no matter how forced, dissipated into uncatchable smoke. No, he couldn’t be here. He couldn’t bring himself right into the waiting mouth of the beast that was hunting him. Silently, you pulled at the zip tie holding your wrists.
“Speaking of cutting through red tape…” Will muttered as a thud on top of the roof had his gaze shooting upward. Silence covered the entire building — all of the workers immediately stopped their movements.
You could barely slump forward when Will let go of your chin before he brought the blade back to your neck, his body standing behind you. His words echoed as he called out, “Come on out, Spider-Man! I promise we’ll let her go…”
Your eyes squeezed shut as the pain in the back of your head pounded harder, tears threatening to pool on your eyelashes. You whispered, “And then what? Where does this end, Will?”
A jagged smile was evident in his words. “Who says the fun ever has to end?” His hands forced your head to turn, your gaze pointed toward the warehouse entrance. “Isn’t that right, father?” Will asked loudly, calling to the man walking toward you both with a gun at the ready.
The sight dropped a deadening weight into your stomach. Ellis looked wild, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. His usual well-kempt look was forgotten, his suit ragged and hair free from its slicked-back style. More guards continued to enter the warehouse after him, and you couldn’t stop your entire body from shaking.
“Or maybe the fun’s just beginning,” Will said into the curve of your ear. It made you stretch to get away from him, but that only pushed your neck further into the blade — pain prickling along your skin.
You revolted against the dread, the horrific realization, that you may watch Peter die here — while he was trying to save you. It took everything in you to not let it incapacitate your ability to think or even function.
Ellis directed the guards this way and that. You watched with unfocused attention as he followed the large group up toward the roof. Normally, you would say he was sending them to their demise with Spider-Man up there. But an injured, desperate Spider-Man? That struck icy fear into your veins.
And you’d never known Spider-Man to have a noisy approach — careless enough to make noise and draw the enemy’s attention to himself. He’d have to play it smart, which became evident a few minutes later when Will yelled to one of his guards… and got no response. Peter was picking them off one by one in here while they searched for him outside.
Will’s free hand gripped tightly to your shoulder, his body continuously moving in small twitches. You could feel how on edge he was, and you wondered just how dangerous this family could be. Full power over the city, and all they needed now was to remove the one man stopping them.
You fought to keep your breathing even, your mind clear, so you could stay calm. And it worked to ground you just as a web shot from the sky. At blinding speed, it hit Will’s arm, sending the blade flying away from you. It clattered across the floor, the sound the sweetest thing you’d ever heard. Before he could fully realize what had happened, you lifted your foot and brought it down against his knee using every bit of strength you had.
By the time he’d crumpled to the floor, you’d run the other way. His scream froze your heart, but you knew he wouldn’t be down long with whatever experiments were coursing through him. Weaving between shelves with your hands still bound behind you, you tried to find somewhere safe — maybe the back entrance you’d planned to go to before.
But there were sure to be more guards outside now, and you couldn’t get far with your hands tied together. Your steps slowed, trying to become silent as you looked around for something sharp. Among the debris were ammo, rope, chemicals… but nothing to cut the zip tie.
Will’s words sounded far enough away, but that didn’t stop your head from whipping in his direction as he yelled, “You’ll fucking regret that!” Without so much as a breath, you took small steps backward away from the threat.
You only got a few feet when a gloved hand wrapped around your mouth. Before you could even scream, you were lifted into the air. The warehouse passed in a blur, but relief broke through as you felt summer night air hit your skin — as you recognized the sounds of the man swinging you both a few blocks away.
The two of you landed in a different alley, this one empty and finally safe. A second later, you felt the snap of the zip tie, and your wrists came free.
“Thought you might need a han-”
He only spoke those few words before you turned around to lunge into his arms. A quiet grunt shot out of him as you hugged him until your arms shook. You sniffled back tears budding up, your fingers clenching tight onto his suit. You breathed in him.
“Peter,” you whispered against him.
“Uh… I’m not sure who that is. The name’s Spide-”
“Shut up,” you interrupted, shaking your head as you pressed in closer to him. You could have sobbed when his arms wrapped around you too. To have him here, real, and breathing felt like the aching quiet after waking up from an unending nightmare, like the first rays of morning sunlight peeking above the horizon.
But the memory of when the two of you last spoke washed over your senses in an unrelenting tidal wave. You pulled back, your hold on him tightening as you looked at him. Your breath fizzed away like bubbling remnants of the crashed wave.
Blood splattered across his suit, broken up by dirt and rips along his body. His chest rapidly rose and fell, tired in a way you’d never seen the superhero. He’d pulled his arms from you— one of his hands rested against the building, using it to hold his weight. His other hand wrapped around his left side where blood-coated webs held together what looked to be a bullet wound. But what stole the breath from your lungs, what grabbed you and forced you to come to terms with all that’d happened, was his face.
A jagged tear in his mask stretched from his cheek to his forehead, leaving one of his bloodshot eyes exposed. The skin around it looked marred with cuts and aching bruises. At the top of the rip, pieces of his shaggy hair stuck to his forehead. He was barely recognizable. Your bottom lip trembled, no matter how hard you tried to stop it. But before you could open your mouth, Peter brought you back in against him, hugging you tight. He whispered, “Thank God you’re okay.”
Pressing your hands against his chest, you created a little bit of space despite how your body protested. “Peter… are you okay?”
His exposed eye traced across your face, the soft brown looking paler than usual. “I’m fine. I got the suit out — and hidden. That’s what matters.”
You gave him an exhausted look because that was not all that mattered, not as he stood there looking like that, but you didn’t argue further. He was here. And stubborn.
So you just allowed yourself to do what you hadn’t done before the fundraiser. Raising your hand, you paused for a brief moment before gingerly fixing his hair. You tucked the strands back under the mask before swiping a thumb across his forehead.
His hand came up to grab your wrist, lowering it from his hair but not letting go of you.
“How are you doing?” he asked. His fingers were gentle against the marks on your wrist.
You blinked against the throbbing in your head but nodded, breathing out, “Uh… yeah. I’ll be okay.”
And too many other things to say passed your mind, some you wanted to tell him and others you couldn’t. With a hoarse voice and downcast eyes, you settled on, “You came.”
You hoped he heard all you meant underneath those two words.
And you didn’t have time to register his answer — “of course” — as he moved his grip from your wrist down to your hand. He squeezed once then let it return to your side.
“Okay, I need to head back,” he said, raising his arm to shoot a web back in the direction of the warehouse, “please head to the hospital, and stay safe. I’d bring you there myself, but–” He gestured to his injured side, his face wincing in pain.
Instantly, your face twisted, a dizziness coming over you as any relief you had shattered to the ground. “You’re not going back in there. Not like this,” you nearly pleaded, your words coming out faster. “You’ve done enough. Call- call the police, and let them handle it.”
He shook his head. “I already called them. But with Will’s powers, it’ll be a massacre. I’ve got to go.” He said it with such certainty, with no room for argument. He tried to step past you, his gaze stoically not meeting yours.
“Then I’m coming too.” You stepped to the side with him. You hurriedly explained, “Something’s not right with Will, like his body is struggling with whatever’s coursing through him. So I think if we-”
“What? No. I mean, yes,” he told you. “Will is using DNA from supervillians, and I think his body’s rejecting it. But no, you’re not coming with me.”
“Could we somehow increase his symptoms then, or speed them up?” Your palms came up to rest against his chest. His heartbeat pounded rapidly beneath your touch.
“I mean, probably. If we incubated it with heat or lights maybe, but…” He cocked his head. “Stop talking like we’re doing this together. We’re not.”
Turning your chin up at him, you argued, “Well the plan where you get yourself killed sucks.”
“Well I happen to like the plan where you get killed a lot less, so you’re staying,” he said, raising an arm to shoot out a web again. He held stern, but you heard the exhaustion coating his words, how tired he really was.
Spider-Man always had a plan, Peter always knew what to do. And now it seemed his only plan was to stop Will at all costs — even at the cost of his own life. You shoved away the emotion that thought brought bubbling up your throat.
You clenched your hands into fists, refusing to let him go so easily. “Peter, you’re not leaving me in the dark anymore. The secrets and hiding have to stop here.”
You watched his eyebrow sink into a frown, his voice becoming more serious than you’d ever heard. “Secrets and hiding? Yeah, I have to keep my identity hidden, but don’t you get why I did all of this?” He asked as if it was the most obvious question. His hands gestured out to the side as he took a step back — your own hands falling away from him.
He turned his head away from you, and you could only watch his jaw clench and unclench with each passing second. The silence rang in your ears, until he breathed out, “It was to keep you safe. ‘Cause all this? It does no good if… if you’re gone.”
You held your breath, feeling your heart beating wildly throughout you. Heat crawled up your body at his words. Quietly, you asked, “What does me being gone have to do with stopping Beaumont?”
Shaking his head, Peter breathed out the ghost of a laugh. In an instant, he stepped so closely that it nearly gave you whiplash. Slowly, the tips of his fingers slipped under his mask to pull it above his mouth. He shifted even closer, his lips merely an inch from yours as his hands cupped your jaw. His body overtook all of your senses. He whispered, “Christ, are you this dense on purpose?”
With that, his lips pressed against yours, your eyes fluttering shut on instinct. At first, you didn’t move at all — afraid that it would break whatever moment you somehow found yourself in. Thoughts and emotions yelled for your attention, for you to analyze what was happening, but none were quite as loud as the feeling of his body melding against yours. That familiar warmth of him enveloped you, and all you could do was melt with him.
It wasn’t like the hurried kissing at the fundraiser, all teeth and tongue and newness. This almost felt familiar, as if you could come home to this every day. Your hands snaked up, holding onto his shoulders as he dulled your senses into a fuzziness. You felt your mind nearly go blank — but not completely.
With waning will power, you pulled away, trying not to relish in the soft noise that escaped his throat as you did so. You both caught your breath — the yearning exhales mingling in the small space between you. And with the way his hands still held onto you, now dropped down along your body to find a home on your hips, you knew there was no way he’d let you go with him.
“I… you, uh, need to get back” you began with a long, heavy breath. Swiping your tongue across your bottom lip, you took a resistant step backward. He kept one hand on yours as you moved. “Just, Peter, please be safe.”
He slowly nodded, and you watched every movement as he grabbed his mask and brought it back down. His thumb rubbed along your skin. “Yeah, yeah. Of course. And after…”
“After?” you asked, smiling at him.
“Yeah,” he breathed. “After. Let me take you out.”
“After,” you promised. You swallowed, wrapping a hand around his forearm and squeezing once. But before he could move away, you said, “Wait! Do you have anything I could use? To defend myself, I mean. I’d just feel safer — in case I happen to run into their guards on my way to the hospital.” You offered a closed mouth smile, one that told him not to worry too much about you.
“Uh, yeah…” he said, patting along his suit and up to his wrists. Removing part of his left webshooter, he set a small metal piece into your palm. You thought it looked almost like a flash drive as he curved your fingers over it.
“It’s not ideal, but it’s the best I have right now. It helps control my electric webs, so you can use this part as a sort of taser if someone comes at you,” he explained, waiting until you nodded before pulling you into a hug. It crushed your body, feeling like a hug you’d give someone you might not see for a long time. Or ever again.
So, you whispered, “Good luck,” and watched as he stepped away and swung away slowly. One of his hands still held tight to his side.
You waited there for a minute, bringing a thumb up to your lips. You felt how they still tingled and how they curved into a smile. But as soon as you were sure Peter had made it back to the warehouse already, you began making your way there with quick steps.
Maybe you were in over your head. Peter would probably call you stupid or reckless. But if he couldn’t handle if something happened to you, then he’d have to understand why you weren’t leaving him to go in there alone.
So you found yourself marching back to the place you never hoped to return to. Intense pounding went through your head with each step. Your palm felt slick with sweat, but you held tight onto the makeshift taser until your knuckles began to ache.
You were glad the warehouse was so secluded — hopefully no passerbyers would get caught in the fray. Or hear the commotion coming from inside. The muffled noise came from the far side of the building, near the front, so you hugged the opposite side of the alley as you made your way to the back. You guessed that they all concentrated on where Peter must have made an appearance, which only left one guard standing at the door.
Eyes flicking to the ground, you caught a glimpse of rock sitting in the cracks of the alleyway. Silently picking it up and pressing yourself into the shadows, you took a steadying breath that did little to calm your nerves in the midst of this insane idea. Still, your shaky arm reeled back to throw the rock up and over the guard, making it land on the other side of him.
As soon as he turned away from you, gun trained on the strange noise, you stepped from the dark and crept toward him. You gave yourself no time to second guess yourself before coming up behind him. Your internal monologue repeated, Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god as you raised the taser.
But as you went to press the taser into the guard, he turned back around in shock — throwing his elbow into your cheek in the process. A silent groan sat in your throat as your mouth hung open, a loud ringing going through your head. Pain bloomed outward from your face, and it took a moment to push past your swimming vision. Using all your strength, you lunged at him again and shoved the taser into the flesh of his neck.
In an instant, his body began convulsing. You did your best to try and let his weight down gently, but he just slid to the ground alongside you, unconscious and still twitching. Pushing him off, you sat on your knees and tried to catch your breath. You let the pain slowly dull with each passing second.
As you sat there, a glimpse of white against his dark uniform caught your eye — an ID badge hanging off his hip. It worked perfectly against the card reader at the back door, unlocking with a soft click for you to slip through. And there you were again, stood in the mouth of the beast once again.
In the back hallway away from the open floor, you could hear crashing and yelling coming from across the building. You only made it a few feet before footsteps sounded from the end of the hallway. Deep voices echoed off the concrete walls, each word louder than the next. You didn’t move or breathe until eventually, finally, they began to grow quieter.
From where you stood, heart still in your throat, you could tell the warehouse lights were still dimmed. So you searched along the walls, ears always listening for anyone coming back. You opened up the door after finding a circuit breaker, tracing a finger down the length of it. None of the switches were labeled, so after a moment of consideration, you flipped them all on — washing the building in bright fluorescents.
And just a few feet down the hall sat the thermostat. It was set to 65 degrees, but your hand quickly turned the dial up to the 89 degree mark. Within a few seconds, you heard the heater turn on and rumble through the vents.
You nodded, hopeful that this could begin weakening Will enough for Peter to take him out. While bleeding and injured. While dozens of guards also tried to kill him. How could you let him come back here? How could he come back here and make you come back here to help his ass?
You began to turn around to go find him when a heavy hand landed on your shoulder.
“Freeze-”
A gasp caught in your throat as you whipped around out of instinct and fear, immediately shoving the makeshift taser at the woman. It connected with the bottom of her jaw. With wide eyes, you watched as her body shook and fell to the ground just like the other guard. Your hand came up to cover your mouth while you stared. You didn’t think you would ever get used to that.
Slowly, you backed away down the hall. You did manage to grab her gun and hide it on a shelf when you made your way out there — rather than take it and risk shooting yourself or Peter, even if he did have superpowers.
Superpowers that you almost began to resent as you stepped into the open area of the warehouse — and the man himself immediately dropped down in front of you. You placed your hand over your mouth and swallowed the yelp that threatened to escape. Instead, you watched Peter as he guided the both of you behind a shelf.
His chest rose and fell much too quickly, his stance wavering and unsteady. Unfortunately, that didn’t seem to affect his attitude though, as he came closer and angrily whispered, “What the hell are you doing here? I can’t believe you did this.”
You gave him a soft, disbelieving look, a closed-lipped smile on your face. “Yes, you can.”
He brought his fingers up to pinch the bridge of his nose. A long sigh left his mouth. “Alright,” he said, “I can believe it. But you need to leave now.” He tried weakly pushing you toward the back door again.
You didn’t budge. “Oh, okay. Yeah, now that I’ve snuck in to help — by electrocuting two guards into unconsciousness, by the way — I’ll just go on my merry way,” you whispered back, twisting your face into a mocking expression. “How about you shut up and just let me help?”
“That’s why you asked for the weapon?” He quietly groaned before looking at you again, his head cocking. “Two guards? That’s not bad.”
“Thank you. Now, I’ve turned up the heat and lights. So let’s go.”
For a moment, he considered you. His eye covered by the mask looked expressionless, distant. But his exposed eye made you pause — his gaze feeling resigned, desperate in a way that made your heart twist. You didn’t want to imagine the other compromises or sacrifices Spider-Man has had to make over the years. And you didn’t have time to. So you swallowed those thoughts and simply grabbed his hand, entwining your fingers with his to pull him farther into the warehouse.
As you slowly moved down the aisles, you whispered, “Give me one of your web shooters.”
You already knew his answer from the blank stare he shot sideways at you. “I’m not giving you one of my web shooters. I need them.” Part of his words told you he really did need them to get you both through this. The other part said he didn’t trust you to not accidentally shoot him with his own webs.
“Well don’t you have an extra one or something?” you shot back.
“Do you see this suit? Where could I even keep an extra web shooter on me?” he quietly asked, his free hand raising outstretched and exasperated.
You let your eyes trail across the suit per his suggestion — until Peter said, “Okay, that’s enough ogling.” And even for the briefest of moments, it felt good to smile with him.
But at another crash several aisles down, he stiffened. You felt his rapid heartbeat pulse against your skin as he held up a hand. “I’ll be right back,” he promised.
You tried to squeeze his hand, to give him some sort of mention to be careful or to not get himself killed out there, but his fingers slipped through yours as he instantly swung away. Your palm radiated leftover warmth as you hid, thinking through the plan. Hopefully, the two of you wouldn’t have to wait long for Will to show symptoms, which would just leave many guards and Ellis. Peter seemed confident that they couldn’t fight their way out of this.
But under the commotion of guards around the warehouse, yelling and fighting coming from seemingly everywhere, you didn’t hear the heavy footsteps until they were too close. Whipping around, you saw Ellis appear at the end of the aisle, his chest rising and falling in heavy breaths. He raised his gun, aiming it right at you as he said, “Found you now.” His voice sounded colder, void of any of the charm he had when speaking to the public.
Instinctively, you backed away from him — from the man that made cold dread creep through your body and steal the breath from your lungs — but your steps stuttered when a web came from the ceiling and yanked the gun from Ellis’ grip. It flew upward, but you didn’t wait to see Ellis’ reaction before silently thanking Peter and sprinting the other way.
Only to be met with Will standing on the other side of the long aisle.
His twisted smile and disheveled hair falling into his face fueled the icy weight dropping into your gut. His bloody fingers tightened around the end of the blade he held in one hand. The other gripped a pistol.
You turned to look back at Ellis to see him fighting against more webs. As Will approached with heavy steps, his arm shaking as he aimed his gun at you, you forced your body to move.
Without thinking, you ducked and crawled past boxes sitting on the large shelf and emerged into the next aisle. You couldn’t think about the thudding sounds of bullets hitting metal around you.
You knew he’d be on you soon, his mutated powers making him too powerful. So you crawled across to the next aisle, pushing aside scattered equipment before throwing yourself through that shelf too. You went through a few more aisles and shelves to create at least a little distance. In the last shelf you passed, you hid yourself between the boxes. You stilled just a second before you heard him enter the aisle.
Clamping a hand over your mouth, you squeezed your eyes shut as his footsteps grew louder with each passing second. Your other hand began to ache from gripping the taser between your fingers.
“Run all you like. It won’t change how this all ends,” Will seethed, his voice becoming closer to you. A raggedness filled his words, and you hoped that meant the plan was working.
Still, Peter’s name repeated over and over in your mind, a silent prayer for him to come help. But you could hear more guards approaching, each one feeling like an extra shovel digging your graves.
The guards seemed to be coming to find the commotion, but from the sounds, it seemed like Peter was holding them off. You could only imagine the exhaustion and pain riddling his body as he never stopped fighting.
And you hoped he wouldn’t stop as a shaking, powerful hand wrapped itself around your arm and yanked you from the shelf. No sound could escape your mouth — every inch of it went dry in the face of Will’s bloodshot eyes.
One hand reached to claw at his grip while the other brought the taser up to his neck. But he knocked it away before sending you flying from the aisles into the open space. You heard a growl rip from his throat before it disappeared under the ringing in your ears, a breathless groan dribbling from your agape lips, as you fell against the concrete.
In between slow blinking and painful winces, you caught sight of Peter coming down and fighting against Will. Even with the sweat starting to bead along your skin, the extra heat and lights weren’t enough yet to weaken him. You saw how fast his punches were, how slow Peter was to dodge them.
Your arms trembled as you pushed yourself onto one elbow. Gritting your teeth, you ignored the ache throbbing behind your eyes. You began to stand up again only for a blow to knock you back down and sliding across the floor.
“God, I’ve just had fucking enough of you. Stay down for once, sweetheart. Okay?”
Past watery vision, you raised your head to see a bloody Ellis pointing a gun down at you. You held your breath, not daring to move as nausea and fear turned to sludge in your stomach. His knuckles look torn and raw, his suit ripped along his shoulders and arms. One hand of his ran through his hair, leaving a smear of blood along his hairline.
Just as you were to silently call for Peter again or to close your eyes and wait for this all to be over, a strangled groan echoed throughout the warehouse. A second later, Peter’s ragged body flew from the shelves and hit the ground, sliding until he slammed into the building’s wall. A cry escaped your mouth at seeing his limp form, and you only breathed again once you saw him beneath the debris and dust. Blood dribbled from his shoulder. More rips spread along his suit. But weakly, slowly, you could see his chest continue to rise and fall.
Before you could try to crawl over to him, Will emerged from the aisles — his smile victorious even as his muscles shook. From where you lay, you couldn’t see any more guards. Peter must have gotten them all. Now you just needed a little more time.
“His current state is going to make it harder to get answers out of him, William,” Ellis said. He stretched his neck side to side as he continued to train his gun directly at your heart.
Will let out a breathy laugh as he made his way closer. “I was just having some fun testing out my powers.” He flexed his hands in front of him, his heartbeat visible in the raised veins just beneath his skin. “Besides, I’m sure there are ways to get him to talk…”
His gaze rose to connect with yours.
He dropped the end of his blade to the ground, letting it drag against the concrete with each step. The slicing sound may as well have been the blade itself running along your throat.
You began to shuffle backward, needing to get as far away from him and his torture plan as possible. Your teeth dug so far into your cheek that you began to taste blood. Fresh tears pooled along your eyes as you called out, “When were you going to tell him, Ellis?”
Still several feet away, Will paused for a moment, the blade hanging looser from his grasp. His eyes flicked to his father’s.
Ellis' shout echoed across the building, making you flinch. “What are you doing? Grab her. We need to leave.”
You didn’t let either of them think before blurting out, “When were you going to tell your son that his body’s rejecting the DNA? That they’re going to kill him?”
Ellis nearly growled out his next words as he stalked closer. “Shut. Up. You don’t know anything, you worthless girl.”
You scrambled back farther, your hands searching for anything along the ground. Your fingers grasped a broken shard of glass, bringing it in front of your body. It looked so miniscule, so useless, trembling before him.
“Is that true?”
Will’s words broke through, and for a brief moment, you recognized him again — he was the man you danced with. Only this time, he looked empty.
The question made Ellis stop this time, his eyes squeezing shut for a second.
“Father?”
You saw how Will’s skin looked red and blotchy, how his breathing became harder with each passing second. He knew something was wrong.
“Tell him, Ellis. Tell him why he’s becoming weaker by the minute.” You tried to keep your voice steady, and though it wavered and scratched, it still struck the tense thread holding them together.
For too long, no one spoke. You fought to not look away from Ellis’ stare that pierced through you. Every breath, every tiny move he made, you watched him from behind the broken glass.
Will pleaded, shouting,“Dad!”
Finally, Ellis broke from the trance and dropped the gun just slightly, turning toward Will. You took the brief moment to glance to Peter. In… out. In… out. He was here. He was okay. He would be okay.
You turned back when Ellis let out a resigned sigh, refusing to fully meet his son’s gaze. “We are working on a cure… a treatment to stabilize your body’s reactions. There was no use in worrying you before we found it.”
“Except that tiring his body worsens it — it kills him faster,” you gritted past split lips, despite flinching when Ellis aimed the gun at you again.
“Shut the hell up!” he yelled, gripping the gun’s handle until his knuckles turned white. You raised your chin higher.
“Is she right?” Will asked.
“I…” Ellis began, groaning and dropping the gun to his side. He reached his other hand toward Will, turning toward him completely. “It’s…” And for once, you heard Ellis Beaumont have nothing to say — no lies to spew. Still, he approached Will, trying to embrace him.
But Will backed away, his tripping over one another. “You did this to me,” he whispered, almost in awe. Then, his voice rose with each word until he was shouting. “You used me as some lap dog and knew that it was destroying me from the inside out?”
Ellis approached again. “Son–”
“No! Get the hell off me,” Will screamed, pressing his hands into his father’s chest and shoving with all his strength.
Ellis stumbled, and you relished in the way his mouth opened and shut without saying anything.
“No. Don’t say another goddamn thing. No more telling me what to do like I’m a child,” he paused, his jaw clenching. His irises seemed to glow a sickly green, his voice becoming deep and alien. “Like I’m just some tool to get you your money.”
What lit the awaiting wick, though, was Ellis — in all his confidence and cowardice for his own safety — raised his gun at his son. You swore you saw the instant Will lost all semblance of control.
His body surged forward, tackling his father to the ground. Ellis yelled out, but it cut short when he hit the concrete. Any noise he made disappeared under the sound of Will’s fist hitting his dad. An animalistic growl rang out, and for a moment, you sat entranced, watching the pain pass across both of their faces as they battled.
You stared at the tears flying from Will’s eyes until your arm could no longer hold up the shard of glass. Its sharp edges pressed into your skin, but as they continued fighting, you dropped it to crawl toward Peter’s body.
Your eyes stayed on the two men while you passed over debris and the occasional webbed-up guard. You pushed away the wreckage despite the aching fire licking across every part of your body. Glimpses of red peaked through as you uncovered Peter. Immediately, you felt his chest for a pulse, for his ragged-but-stable breaths. A gasp escaped your mouth as you felt it dimly beating. You then moved to put pressure on the bullet wound on his side.
The pained groan he let out choked your heart. On the tip of your tongue, his name stood begging to leap off the edge and surround his body until he was okay again.
Instead, with darting eyes and trembling lips, you whispered, “Spidey.”
When he didn’t respond, you took hold of his arms and shook him slightly. Tears dripped down your cheeks, your voice becoming more desperate. “C’mon. We have to go. You have to get out of here.” You pushed his exposed hair back under his mask again. He barely stirred.
“Please,” you cried out, pulling on him, prepared to try and drag him out of there. “You can’t ditch me, asshole. I’m not doing this alone.”
Beneath the yelling of Ellis’ pleading and Will’s incessant punches, you heard Peter murmur something. You didn’t dare breathe, only whispering for him to repeat.
“You’re… an… asshole,” Peter grumbled, his face twisting as he opened his eyes. His head lolled to the side, a dry swallow passing down his throat. If he wasn’t in so much pain, you might’ve thought about hitting him for that. Instead, a splitting smile overtook your face.
But you didn’t have time to stop when Peter’s hands tensed around you. He moved just slightly to look toward the Beaumonts, prompting you to whip your head in their direction again.
You looked just in time to see Will wavering above Ellis, his eyes blinking slower and slower. A second later, he slumped forward and off of Ellis’ body onto the ground. Will appeared to be breathing still, but he was weak.
Any momentary relief you felt vanished as Ellis sat up, that wild look back on his face. Your hold on Peter tightened, your body thrown back into desperate fear. Ellis reached a few feet out to grab the blade Will had before training his eyes on you — like a predator locked onto its prey.
“You little-”
Grabbing Peter’s nearly limp arm, you repeatedly pressed down on his web shooter’s trigger before Ellis could finish his sentence. Webs flew out and encompassed the man, wrapping him and sticking him to the floor.
“Thank you,” Peter muttered. “He was giving me a headache.”
You were sure it was the multiple head injuries doing that, but you appreciated the humor while your heart rate returned to normal.
“C’mon. We’re leaving,” you urged him. With all of your strength, you did your best to support Peter’s weight as he slowly stood and staggered onto you. You could hear the groans he continued to bite back.
You held onto him tight, keeping him balanced. “Okay, do you have your phone on you?”
“Yeah…”
You waited for him to fish it out from a slim pocket. Using your free hand, you took several pictures of the Beaamonts lying there and the ruined warehouse. Your investigative heart wanted to take a hundred images from every angle, but your rational mind told you to leave. It took all your effort to move on. Trying to ignore the dizziness in the corners of your vision, you wrapped an arm around Peter’s side and walked to the back of the warehouse.
You both passed through the back door, out over the threshold of that place — finally out into the night for good. He’d be okay.
Along the warehouse’s high windows, flashes of police lights reflected down onto Peter’s face. He gritted his teeth and raised his arm to the skyline, staring into your eyes. “Ready, sunshine?”
You let yourself be pulled in closer to his side, blinking away the stinging tears.
And from this angle, with cascading cherry and violet lights raining down onto Peter’s profile, you found that you didn’t mind red and blue so much anymore.
Nodding, you slowly drew your eyes to his. “Ready.”
—
Your words spilled through gritted teeth, your jaw clenched tight. “I hate you so much, Peter.”
Your palms were sweaty as you forced yourself to stay focused despite that rage building in your chest. It continued up your body, crawling along your throat.
“Really? After all I’ve done for you?” Peter asked, his tone incredulous. You could feel the waves of heat rolling off of him.
Your expression sinking into a frown, you muttered, “It’s only fitting, considering that you lie and hide secrets.”
“Oh come on…” He scoffed, holding up a hand. “That’s low. And if you think about it, it was really only one secret!”
“That you lied about multiple times!”
He sat back next to you against the couch cushions, the weight of him drawing you closer. “You’re just a sore loser, and you’re angry that I whooped your ass in Mario Kart. Again,” he said, and you finally turned your gaze from the screen to look at him.
Light streamed in through his apartment’s window, the afternoon sun dancing across his face. His eyes turned to a soft caramel under its attention. His hair was undone, feathering along his forehead. Slowly, he grew closer, raising one eyebrow as if daring you to tell him he’s wrong.
Crossing your arms, determined not to be affected by his stare, you told him, “I literally beat you in the last game.”
He rolled his eyes. “Cause you cheated!”
“Look who’s the sore loser now,” you laughed out, your mouth turning into a gentle smile.
The two of you were face to face on the couch, breaths mixing together. A moment of silence passed, Peter’s softening eyes roaming across you. His thumb reached over to brush along the outside of your thigh. “You’re lucky you’re adorable.”
You didn’t try to fight your wide grin or the heat rising to your cheeks. In a whisper, you asked, “You think I’m adorable?”
His only answer was a slight huff as he leaned forward, kissing you. It only lasted a moment, your lips chasing his when he pulled away. “I’m gonna grab a drink, don’t sabotage my controller while I’m gone,” he teased, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Want anything?”
“I’ll take whatever’s on tap,” you said, laughing when he rolled his eyes.
Slowly, he rose from the couch, taking heavy breaths as he winced. His healing injuries — mental and physical — were better, but they weren’t gone altogether. Neither were yours.
They probably wouldn’t be for a while. Though, after waking up panicked and breathless from repeated nightmares, it helped having someone there to bring you back down. It helped having someone take care of yourself when that seemed impossible. And it helped knowing you weren’t alone in this.
You watched him make his way to the kitchen, rummaging around in the fridge. In these past days since the warehouse incident, it sometimes scared you how easy this was. Staying at his apartment together, helping one another recover. Your things sat scattered around his place, like they belonged. You wondered when he was going to say something, to ask you to go back home and tend to your wounds alone. When you both healed, would it all go back to how it was?
When a notification sound came from Peter’s phone, your eyes drew down to it for a second. Not knowing whether it was urgent Spider-Man business — not that he should’ve been doing it given his state — you called out, “Your phone dinged!”
Head still in the fridge, his words muffled, Peter called back, “Can you check it for me?”
You paused for a moment, letting a feeling of warmth settle in your chest before grabbing his phone. Just from the notification preview, you could tell what it was.
“Add another tally to your offers to interview for a job,” you told him, shaking your head — a smile evident in your voice. “This one’s for a junior photographer position.”
“What does that bring us up to now?” he asked, closing the refrigerator. He brought a glass of water and what you assumed was Dr. Pepper that’d gone flat.
“I think we’re tied at three each — though they’re just asking us to apply and interview.” You let out a sigh, trying not to get your hopes up. “It’s no guarantee of a job. They’re just interested in our story.”
Peter pointed a finger at you from around the glass. “Our story that kicks ass and put the corrupt city manager and his son away. That’s a piece that belongs on something bigger than The Daily Bugle.”
“You really think so?”
You looked up at him, chewing on your bottom lip.
“Sunshine, the greatest compliment Jameson could spit out was that it’s a ‘mighty fine’ story — before obviously yelling at us for not getting more pictures of Spider-Man during it… and that our injuries were no excuse, of course,” he told you with a wry sarcasm as he set the glasses down on the coffee table. Sitting next to you, his expression softened. His hand wrapped around yours. “But now you have the chance at something bigger.”
You grinned back at him. “But how could I ever pass up a job with… how’d he say it? ‘Minimal benefits and guaranteed maximum overtime’?”
Peter’s laugh rumbled through his chest, vibrating a comforting rhythm against you. Next to you, your phone buzzed this time. Picking it up, you told him, “Oh, another one! It’s 4 to 3 now — I’m in the lead.”
His grin made yours even wider, and you were unable to fight it as his hands cupped your jaw, his fingers careful to avoid the bruises along your cheekbone. “You see? You’ve got the whole world in the palm of your hand.” His eyes pulled you in, begging you to fall into him completely as he pressed his lips to yours once again.
You could’ve stayed there forever, sitting on that ripped couch in Peter’s apartment that you swore to never return to. Your fingers twisted in the ends of his hair pulling him even closer. The rest of the world melted away for at least a little while, leaving just the two of you in this bubble. When you eventually pulled away, your foreheads rested against one another, your nose nudging against his.
“Oh!” you said, leaning back, “I almost forgot. I picked up a frame while out grocery shopping — I couldn’t help myself.” You stood up, grabbing a bag from the dining table and pulling out a cheap picture frame. The story you’d already cut out from the newspaper felt smooth between your fingers as you carefully placed it in the frame.
You kept it close to your body while looking around for a good spot to hang it up, not that the walls had much — or anything — really on them. Deciding on a nice place between the door and living room, you asked, “Want to do the honors?”
Fishing out a nail from his tool drawer, which was really just a kitchen drawer full of scattered household items, you held it out to Peter along with the frame. It took some willpower to not gasp as he merely pushed the nail into the wall without a hammer and hung up the frame.
Straightening it just right, he stepped back and wrapped his arm around your back. You took it in, the first real decoration in his apartment — the story that brought the two of you together framed against the pale walls. Your names shone clearly at the top, next to the large letters spelling out, “Fundraiser or Fraud? The Beaumont Empire Falls.”
Leaning into him, your palm rubbing circles on his lower back, you asked, “Do you like it?”
His voice came out soft, the words curling around the ends of your body. “It’s perfect.”
It wasn’t, not with the ill-fitting frame or the story that likely needed further digging and refining. But right now, with Peter, it was perfect. You let your mind run through everything you two had gone through together, how you’d ended up here.
After a minute of thinking, though, something kept drawing your attention. Pursing your lips, you turned back to him. “Hey Peter?”
“Hmm?”
“I just have a quick question. When we were trying to get into the fundraiser, you said you ‘knew a guy.’ Did you just mean yourse-”
“Myself? Yeah. I’m the guy,” he told you, nodding repeatedly. Nonchalantly.
You scoffed, slightly laughing. You really were insane to have gone in on this project with him. “And then you made fake IDs and gave me some fake wedding ring so we could sneak in…” you said in disbelief.
Turning to grab his drink from the table, he furrowed his eyebrows. “The ring you borrowed? ‘S not fake — do you still have that, by the way?” he asked, taking a sip. “Need to return that.”
You took a beat staring at him wordlessly. Your mind crossed several things to say that you decided to hold back. “Peter, what do you mean it’s not fake? That giant rock on my finger was real?”
“Yeah, I borrowed it as a favor from a jewelry store. I saved the place from robbers breaking in.” He shrugged, the flannel his wore swaying around his body.
This relationship was going to take years off of you…
Your fingers pinched the bridge of your nose. “I’m going to kill you,” you half-heartedly murmured. Your eyes raised to meet his, your finger pointing at him. “You know, you’re so careless about all this. I fucking knew you were Spider-Man for so long.”
“Oh, bullshit,” he laughed out, walking closer to you. “Now you didn’t. And as long as we’re being honest, I was going to give you the Daily Bugle job offer at the end of the internship the whole time. So really… you didn’t have to do any of this.” His face morphed into a teasing cockiness that sparked a fire in your chest.
The two of you stared at one another, eyes alight but mouths fighting back smiles. All at once, a calm washed over you. “Are we done bickering?”
Peter rested his hands on your hips. He nodded softly, sweetly, as if nothing but you filled his mind. “Yeah, we’re done.”
You leaned forward, kissing him once before whispering against his lips, “Great, now grab the controller — ‘m gonna kick your ass in Mario Kart again.”
@dil3mma @hollandweather @reidslovely @a-lumos-in-the-nox @keepingitlokiii @thedevax @sincericida @agent-tempest @olivezgalore @qwintlimon7 @eddieslooneymoonie @aheadfullofsteverogers @bitchy-bi-trash
#peter parker#peter parker x reader#the amazing spider man#spider man#spider-man#tasm andrew garfield#andrew garfield#peter parker x fem!reader#spider man x reader#spider-man x reader
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A Word with Friends!
Rules: Use the challenge word to write a sentence or scene and then tag a few friends. Happy writing!
This week's word: Egregious
1: Exceptional, conspicuous, outstanding, most usually in a negative fashion. 2: Outrageously bad; shocking.
Thank you kindly @hedwigoprah! It was a lot of fun to figure out where to utilize it!
No-pressure tagging towards anyone who reads this and wishes to participate! I'm a little brain dead right now afasdfdasaa
Anyway, snippet under cut. Forgive any rough bits since I haven't exactly edited any of it :)
It was the stench wafting through that hit her first. Since maybe Sarhnia, her nose had not been assaulted with more pungent mix of scents between the ink, blood, and ash. Her nose wrinkled as a fourth tickled it, recognizing the petrichor as someone having released strong magic here. A foul storm so egregious, she was forced to breathe through her mouth as her nose and eyes burned. "Mierda." A sentiment she agreed with as her eyes adjusted to the dimness. What lanterns that had not been shattered against the floor, had been snuffed out. She could make out a dozen bodies littering the inside of the warehouse—or at least what remained of them anyway as she weaved her way through the bodies. Lucanis pressed the inside of his elbow to his nose as he ventured deeper, his attention having been drawn to the man drenched in crimson, hanging from the sturdy beam over their heads. She tried not to focus on what pinned him there like a trussed up deer as she gave the still cooling corpse a wide berth. Nor did she stare too long at the youthful features so she wouldn't reconcile it with the face of someone she may have known before now. The idea he was barely older than some fledglings she had met in Salle didn't sit well with her either. Isotta sucked in a shaky breath before turning to take in the sheer intensity of the disarray around them. The set-up of Ezra's fencing operation had a temporary look to it, as if at any moment they would pick up all their goods and leave. Items of every type, shape, and size filled the ramshackle shelves that had been hastily built into every available alcove. Gold, silver, and the in-betweens; and all having some kind of magical nature to them if she had to guess. A once profitable "business" now torn asunder by the claws of a great beast. Ezra you fool, she sighed, shifting forward, just as something metal crunched beneath her boots— Only for her feet to become rooted in place, breath catching in her throat like lodged glass.
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This is from my ongoing fic Caveat Lector Hic Sunt Daemones, a Precanon murder mystery featuring demons of all kinds, dead and otherwise. :)
#A Word with Friends#thank you so much for the tag!#dragon age the veilguard#dragon age#lucanis dellamorte#my writing#rookanis#datv#rook de riva#oc: isotta de riva#fic: caveat lector hic sunt daemones
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Okay so for Robbie (Ghost Rider) x Reader, I was thinking where the reader was going after the Watchdogs and the reader got hurt in the process where Robbie see her and then they got into a slight argument where it is dangerous to go after the Watchdogs.
So a slight angst but fluff at the end. It’s fine that you don’t want to do this one.
Promise
Pairing: Robbie Reyes x f!reader
Word Count: 800+
Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!
Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.
**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!
❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)
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**Reader is not described
Main Masterlist
Robbie Reyes Masterlist
Ok, I really fucked up this time. I had gotten some intel that a higher up member of the Watchdogs that I’ve been trying to find for months was meeting a weapons dealer in a warehouse across town. I probably should’ve planned this better, but it was last minute and I couldn’t wait.
Which may cost me my life.
As I stare down the barrel of the gun pointed directly at my face, a man with a mask yelling at me to tell them who I work for, I find myself thinking of only him. Robbie Reyes. My Robbie, the love of my life. I should’ve listened to him when he told me to back down from chasing the Watchdogs, but I was so close. And here I am, about to die for nothing. I wish I could see Robbie one last time. I screw my eyes shut, waiting for the end.
And then screams erupt from all around me, the sounds of people flying and hitting the various shelves and barrels stacked around, smacking against the floor. And the smell. Burning flesh as the screams are silenced one by one, the gunshots that had been going off slowing to a stop, the shells clinking to the cold, hard floor. I crack an eye open, already knowing who I’d see when my eyesight adjusts. A man with a flaming skull head approaches me, tossing a thick chain over his shoulder. He kneels in front of me, his dark eye sockets boring into my own eyes as the flames disappear and Robbie appears, grunting and shaking his head as his skin grows back, his deep eyes the last things I see before I black out.
—----
When I wake, I’m in his room, Robbie sitting next to me on the bed, checking over the bandages placed over various places on my body.
“How long was I out?” I croak, suddenly needing a glass of water.
“A day or so. Doc checked you out. Slight internal bruising and a shit ton of external ones.”
I try to move and gasp at the pain. “Fuck you slight.”
“Why were you there?”
“You know why.”
“I told you not to go.”
I sigh. “I was so close, Robbie. I had to try-”
“No! You didn’t! You almost died today.”
“But I didn’t!”
He gets up, pacing the room like he does when he’s angry. “But you almost did! And where would that have left Gabe? Where would that have left me?”
“I…what does it matter? I’m trying to protect you both from them!”
Robbie slams his fist on his dresser and I jump at the sound. “I told you, I can take care of them!”
“But-”
He walks over to me, sitting on the bed directly in front of me. “No buts. I can take care of them but what I can’t do is lose you. I…I wouldn’t be half the man I am without you. I love you, chica. Isn’t that enough?”
Tears stream from my eyes and I suck in some air at the pain. “You are enough, Robbie. I just.. I didn’t want you to think I wasn’t useful.”
His eyes soften. “Not useful? Chica, you save my life every day by just being with me. I have no idea what I’ve done to deserve you, but I know I can’t live without you.”
“I love you too, Robbie.”
He cups my face, careful to not upset the bruising and scrapes littered across it. His eyes catch my gaze and I can feel the love pouring from him. “Can you promise me you’ll stop chasing them? If you hear something, you’ll tell me and I’ll- we’ll handle it?”
By we he meant the Rider and him and honestly, after nearly dying, this is an easy answer.
“Of course. I promise.”
“Thank you, chica.”
He cuddles in next to me, careful to avoid hurting me as I snuggle in next to him, hand in his chest as I feel his heart beat and feel incredibly lucky to have him in my life.
—----
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General Taglist:
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#Robbie Reyes#Robbie Reyes x you#Robbie Reyes x f!reader#agents of shield#aos#marvel#ghost rider#Robbie Reyes x female reader#Robbie Reyes x reader#agents of shield fanfic#agents of shield ff#gabriel luna#gabriel luna x reader#gabriel luna x you#gabriel luna characters#gabriel luna character fanfic#gabriel lunal character ff#gabriel luna character fanfiction
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Hi, amtrak12! I'm your Bering & Wells gifter this year, and I'd be happy to provide you with a story of a sort that might make your heart sing. I write AU and canon-compliant stuff, though I do tend to avoid full-on tragedy and anything truly explicit--apologies for that, if it's too limiting, but I bet you'd find any attempts I'd make at those to resemble lumps of coal rather than true gifts. In any case, I'm looking forward to hearing your thoughts!
OMG I totally feel you on the explicit smut. I, too, should not be trusted to write it! LOL And I think the Bering and Wells fandom gave ourselves enough tragic fics during our great Angst War of 2013 😜 So those restrictions are totally fine with me!
Oh, I'm so excited for this! Let's see...
My general likes:
The S3 yearning during Helena's pokeball era XD I will read anything where Myka sneaks Helena's hologram out late at night to talk to her.
Helena mentoring kids. I hate S4 and I hate Instinct, but I do agree with its premise that Helena is fantastic with kids and would love to play a significant role in a child's life again.
Warehouse artifact shenanigans, especially during inventory. Always a classic.
Dislikes:
Character bashing (though feel free to criticize Myka's dad more than the show did)
Season 4 -- everything except Steve's resurrection is just a big no from me. Though if you want to use Abigail in the fic, you can. I did like her.
Season 5 -- I didn't even bother watching this one. I noped out right before the S4 finale and I don't regret that decision at all.
I am more than happy with an AU future where the warehouse and everyone are magically alive (and Leena never died). I don't even need an explanation for it. 💜 Canon S1-3 settings or even pre-series settings are also good with me.
If you'd like some specific prompts to get you started....
Canon Setting Prompts:
Helena has to work with Pete to help Myka -- could be something as big as Myka being in danger. Could be something as simple and domestic as picking out a birthday gift. Myka has two important people in her life and I, at least, am incapable of thinking about her and Helena without also inevitably thinking about Myka's relationship with Pete. (As completely platonic BROTP, of course. No Myka/Pete romance, either past or present :S But that's probably assumed in a B&W gift exchange.)
Helena's past work with WH12 shows up in small ways -- she recognizes an artifact during inventory, she wrote one of the shelving tags, or they find a report she filled out over a hundred years ago when they're refiling in the archives. Could be angsty because it's S3 and Myka misses her. Could be comforting because Helena's back and every reminder helps her feel like she's home. Could be any tone in between.
Myka having to adjust to having Helena living at the B&B, either in S2 when they're still getting to know each other or in a happy, post-S3 world where Helena's working with them again. Or maybe Myka notes that it isn't an adjustment for her at all because it feels so natural to have Helena living with them. Just domestic introspection outside of the chaos of the job.
AU Setting Prompts:
I'm a huge sucker for soulmate AUs. The tattoo style markings are my favorite premise, but if you have another favorite soulmate set-up, feel free to use that instead. I just think it's neat to explore the impact soulmates would have on the world building and relationships. Are soulmates formed or pre-ordained? How do soulmates work when the other person was born in a completely different era than you?
I know we had a firefighter/paramedic AU series way back in the day, but I wouldn't be mad to see it come back. I've been watching a lot of 9-1-1 lately LOL
Lawyer AUs are also always delicious. The tension that comes out in the courtroom -- HNNG!! There's a reason I have sexual headcanons for Alex Cabot (Law & Order SVU) and every single female defense lawyer and judge she came across ROTFL (And no, this doesn't contradict the no smut agreement, you and I have made, anon. One of my most formative ships was Doctor/Rose. They were heavy on the Unresolved Sexual Tension, and I firmly believe UST should make a comeback in media/fic. It's about the denial, it's about the what if's, the almost's, GUH!)
Hopefully, that gave you enough variety to inspire you without overwhelming you. I will be happy with any length of fic. So if you're the type of writer who thrives on deadlines and/or can write plotty fic in a short time, great. If you're a slower or shorter writer, also great! There seems to be a trend where readers only want 10k+ fics (at least in my current fandom), but I love short stories! I think you can do a lot in just a single scene. So write whatever length you're comfortable with, and feel free to use these ideas as just a starting point. I'll be thrilled to read whatever you come up with :) Thank you so much! 💗
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Could we get a Geoffrey x Reader (vampyr) where he sneaks the reader into Priwen??!! I read your first Geoffrey fic and loved when mentioned sneaking her in!!! I need it pleasseeeeeee?!?!
Ah Thank you for another Geoffrey request!! I do so love writing for the Vampyr boys!!
I hope you like it!
Geoffrey x F!Reader
Warnings: NSFW +18,
You walked slightly behind Geoffrey, slowly as he turned to look around a street corner. You couldn't help the way your eyebrow raised in question as you watched him. "Looking for something?"
"Just seein' if any of the lads are outside" this spiked your interest, a smirk pulling at your lips as you walked past Geoffrey into the street.
"Worried what they'll think of me? How could you associate yourself with such west end scum?" Your mocking tone carried over the road to Geoffrey who was now rolling his eyes at you.
"No it's not that, I don't let them bring girls into the base. I'd be a piss poor Captain if I started ignoring my own rules"
"No girls? What a sad life you make them live" you pouted your lips at the man before you earning another unimpressed look. Geoffrey wouldn't admit he loved your playful humour, it was an unexpected brightness in his life, god forbid you found out though, he'd never hear the end of it, so for now he rolled his eyes again.
"Be quiet, you're the one making me break the bloody rule in the first place"
"I want to see your office... and room"
"They're one in the same"
"Poor hunter" He shook his head and forced you on towards the current Priwen base, his head turning side to side as he looked over the street, making sure you wouldn't be caught. You reached the door, it wasn't an attractive building at all, a warehouse more like, the door Geoffrey lead you to was actually to the side of the building. He quickly whipped out a set of keys before unlocking the chipped door and sticking his head inside. You would have laughed but you knew you have been scolded by him for doing so. Instead you waited as Geoffrey held up his hand silently to you before disappearing inside for a moment.
"Alright come on" he kept his voice so as he opened the door wider, and promptly leading you to a precarious set of stairs, you tried to look over the rest of the building but there wasn't much to see. The hallway seemed to be off to the side of the building, a grated iron wall separating it from the main space, shelves and supplies kept you hidden as you followed Geoffrey and they also prevented you from seeing too much of the rest of the space. You could hear voices though, rough accents and laughter came from the men inside, the smell of some sort of food wafting through as you made your way up the stairs.
You couldn't see much from the landing, certainly not if you were on the lower level. This didn't stop Geoffrey from all but marching you down the walkway and into another room.
Your eyes needed a moment to adjust to the dimly lit room, the office come bedroom left much to be desired. An old desk was pushed to one side of the room, a chair behind it, facing the door. The bed, just big enough to fit Geoffrey and maybe you if you were pressed together was off to the right side, the sheets thin but the blanket thrown over it looked thick enough to fight off the cold. Papers littered the floor and the surface of the beaten up desk, piles of what looks like journals, and books stacked almost toppling over were placed haphazardly on any surface that was available, half empty cups of coffee and a glass still sticky with left over whiskey were grouped together on the corner of the desk. A small chest was sat at the end of the bed, you guessed for Geoffreys clothes.
"I told you it wasn't much" Geoffrey's voice from behind you sounded almost embarrassed, you realised he'd probably been waiting for you to say something and you'd remained uncharacteristically quiet since entering the room.
"It's yours. That's all that matters" You smiled at him, hoping to make him feel less self conscious. The difference in class wasn't something you brought up often with Geoffrey though you know it bothered him on more than one occasion, mostly because of his distaste for the upper class. Your parents had reluctantly purchased you an apartment in the west end when you and your mother had another argument, when you had brought Geoffrey there - something he wouldn't have normally agreed to - you could see that he felt out of place it was the only time you had ever seen him unsure of himself. You weren't keen on it happening again.
"Aye it's mine until we need to move again, then it will be the next shithole we end up in that's mine" He walked across the room as he spoke, keeping his voice low to ensure no one outside heard you both talking, not that many guards came upstairs given that it was only his room and a supply room currently being used to store Priwens supplies. But he didn't want to take the chance, knowing the stick he would get if the men found out he'd snuck a girl in.
"You're too hard on yourself, I think the shitholes suit you" You smirked at him, plopping down on the hard mattress, wincing slightly at the idea of Geoffrey coming back from a hunt and having to find comfort in the hardness beneath you.
"Hmm" Geoffrey came to stand in front of you, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched and waited for you to likely say you were done with seeing the room so he could usher you out as quickly as he'd got you in. But you had other ideas in mind.
Reaching out you grabbed Geoffrey's coat pulling him closer and at the same time pulling yourself up to a stand. You smiled sweetly at Geoffrey before twisting the two of you, pushing Geoffrey down to take the space on the bed you had just gotten up from. You knew he was letting you move him, you'd once tried to push Geoffrey during a playful fight and couldn't move him even a little.
Quickly, before he came to his senses you climbed onto his lap, arms wrapping around his neck. "What are you doing?"
"Shh" Geoffrey felt your lips on his a moment later, his hands almost without control going to your waist to hold you there. Your fingers teased the back of his neck, the short hair brushing against your fingertips. Your lips danced this same dance effortlessly now, so many nights spent pressed against each other it was more than natural.
You couldn't help the small disappointed whine that fell from your lips when Geoffrey pulled away. "No. Absolutely not, don't even think for a second that we're doing that here"
"It's not that bad Geoffrey - you make it sound like you're living in a backend hovel"
"It's not the room I'm concerned about, it's the noise you make and the men downstairs"
"I'll be quiet" Geoffrey scoffed.
"You couldn't be quiet if our lives depended on it"
"So miserable" You pouted, hands still dancing along Geoffrey's skin, moving down his neck to the red scarf he always wore, tugging at it playfully, a smile creeping onto your face that had the hunter rolling his eyes, fighting a small smirk of his own.
"Not miserable, sensible is more the word"
"Oh is that what you're calling yourself these days? Sensible? I'll be sure to remember that when you next go off on a hunt to fight god knows what" You stole a quick kiss before pulling the scarf away from Geoffrey entirely, the scarred skin underneath now visible and accessible to kiss along.
You knew it was a sensitive place for Geoffrey, giggling you remembered the first time you'd found out it was not the scars that made him tense when your lips followed the trail up his neck, nipping playfully at his ear.
Geoffrey let out a large sigh, his eyes closing both in mock frustration at your determination and because despite him not wanting it to - it felt good. The drag of your tongue by his collarbone, the lingering kisses against his skin. Your hands were making quick work of his clothing, the warmth of your hands against his skin as you push his shirt open made him sigh again, his head tilting back just slightly to give you more room to playfully nip at his skin.
A few moments more and you were suddenly lifted off of Geoffrey's lap, your back hitting the bed and the hunter crawling on top of you. "One sound and I swear to God I will stop and march you out of here" you nodded eagerly pulling his down to you, your lips fighting each other for dominance - which he won - as you pushed his clothes from his shoulders, barring his upper half to the chill of the room.
Geoffrey knew this was an awful idea, he always got stick from his men who wanted - and tried- to sneak girls of their own into whatever they were calling their base at the time. The fact that their leader was here breaking his own rules was something he really didn't want the headache over. But the feeling of your hands on him, pulling him closer, the warmth of your kisses and the way your breath hitched when he returned the touches back was a temptation he just couldn't fight.
Your thoughts kept drifting from keeping yourself under control when Geoffrey's lips moved from yours and down your neck, both of you working together to remove the last of your clothes, throwing them mindlessly across the small expanse of the old and chipped wooden floor. You arched into Geoffrey's touch when his hand trailed down your body to reach between your legs.
"Excited by this are ya?"
"I thought we were being quiet?" You quipped back breathlessly, already feeling heat rising over you as Geoffrey began to tease you with his fingers. HIs digits sliding slowly over you before pushing in, he knew what you liked, curling his fingers quickly had a gasp falling from you as you arched into his touch.
Geoffrey could easily spend hours watching you fall apart beneath him but, perhaps another time, when he could fully enjoy all those little noises you were holding back. Moving away from you Geoffrey moved between your thighs, his eyes meeting yours. "Remember, quiet"
You nodded eagerly, pulling the hunter closer to you as he lined himself up. With one final look at you Geoffrey slowly moved his hips forwards, pushing into you, his eyes closing briefly at the feeling of your heat taking him.
Geoffrey kept his movements slow and deep, his arms either side of you holding him up. The very idea of being caught both unnerved him and excited him, the idea of having to keep quiet made his heart race. When you thrusted your own hips up to meet Geoffrey's a groan that he wasn't ready to contain slipped from his lips.
You tutted mockingly, a smirk pulling at your lips when Geoffrey shot you a warning gaze. He didn’t let his rhythm falter, silently he was thanking god that the bed - as worn and old as it was - didn’t creak.
Geoffrey leant down further, the closeness allowing him to leave kisses along your jaw line, occasionally capturing your lips when he thought your quiet gasps might turn into more. It sent butterflies through your stomach, the position so intimate, the idea that the two of you were holding onto each other this closely, trying desperately to stay quiet. But the heavy breaths that fell from both of you only had you more excited, you could feel yourself tensing, the inevitable snapping of the cord coming much quicker than you would have imagined.
“Jesus..” Geoffrey cursed his right hand moved down your body, gripping your waist, almost moving you against him as he kept pushing into you.
“Geoffrey…” he shushed you, his lips pushing against yours to mask the quiet moans you just couldn’t keep in as your orgasm grew nearer and nearer.
A sudden bang outside the room had your heart leaping from your chest, Geoffrey stopped instantly, his hand quickly covering your mouth when you accidentally let out a small moan. You cursed whoever was out in the hallway, cursed them to a lifetime of misery. Geoffrey stayed still, listening for what he could only imagine was someone coming to his room looking for him.
After what felt like minutes but was likely only a few seconds the door to the storage room beside Geoffrey’s closed and the footsteps grew quite as they walked away. Geoffrey let out a sigh of relief before snapping his gaze back to you. I told you this was a bad idea written all over his face while you were trying to hold in a giggle.
“This is not funny” he whispered.
“It absolutely is” you whispered back, smirk growing. “I’ve seen you look less worried at a pack of vampires”
“I’d rather a pack of vampires over the wrath of my men” you pushed your hips up, reminding Geoffrey of your current situation. He shook his head in disbelief but before you could say anything back he started moving again in earnest.
You gripped onto his shoulders as he set a brutal pace that had you biting your lips to stay quiet. It wasn’t long before that oh so wonderful feeling started building again and this time there were no disruptions. Geoffrey caught your lips with his as you climaxed, your lips parting only for you to let out a few deep breaths. Geoffrey’s head moved to the side, using the crook of your neck to mask his own groan as he filled you.
A few moments passed, your breaths slowly becoming normal as you laid against each other. You were suddenly very aware of how quiet it was. You could hear a pin drop and it had the hairs on your arms lifting.
You tapped Geoffrey, encouraging him to lift his head up to look at you with a questioning gaze.
“It’s so quiet”
Geoffrey’s eyes flicked to the side in the direction of the door, he was listening. Too quiet. Geoffrey sat up, the heat from his skin leaving you, allowing the chill of the room to ghost over your skin. After a few moments of listening Geoffrey got up from the bed, his moments so quiet for someone so burly, it was a stark reminder of how good of a hunter he was. He quickly passed you your clothes as he started dressing himself.
Your heart was pounding, why was it so quiet? Your mind was reeling, thinking of all the worst case scenarios. Was the base under attack? Did some vampires get the jump on the guards?
Once fully dressed you stood near the old desk as Geoffrey pulled out his gun, moving to the door he pulled it open and cursed under his breath. You didn’t move, you couldn’t see what was behind the door nor could you be seen thanks to your position in the room.
You heard a click as Geoffrey uncocked his gun, his arm falling limp, his other hand going through his hair as a deep sigh left his lips. “Go on then get it out”
“Get what out?” A deep Scottish voice came from the hallway. “Ye don’t actually mean to tell me what we think is happening is actually happening? That the great McCullum is in here breaking the rules?”
Geoffrey stood unamused his arm now holding onto the door.
“The lads are loaded up to give your grief tomorrow” you could hear the laughter in the man’s voice. “You are gonna hear about this for a long time McCullum” you heard the chuckles of whoever it was as he walked away from the room and down the stairs you had come up earlier.
Geoffrey turned his head towards you, the look on his face both defeated and annoyed. “I to-“
“You told me it was a bad idea I know I know….” You took a pause as Geoffrey closed the door again, reaching for your coats, clearly readying you both for a quick exit. “I am sorry….”
He didn’t answer.
“I’m sorry I won’t be around to hear all the grief you’re going to get” you started giggling now, unable to hold it in anymore, the whole situation had your body shacking with laughter.
Geoffrey however wasn’t amused, his gaze on your hard as you laughed. “This is the last time I trust your ability to not get us into trouble” he tried to hide his own smirk, he almost did. With one last sigh, the thought of months of stick from his men ahead, Geoffrey pushed you towards the door and out of his little room.
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Chapter 12: Bottoms Up
Trey confronts the stalker in the warehouse.
Chapter contains attempted suicide, non-consensual drugging, and kidnapping.
Previous | Next Chapter | Fic Index
A03 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49350448?view_full_work=true
Carpenter Beach is not much of a beach. It’s pebbled and heavily over-built with piers that stink of brine and dead oysters at low tide. The warehouses are a series of joyless, gray buildings that hug the docks. At one time, they were bustling with workers loading and unloading goods that had come from the Scalding Sands and the Shaftlands. Now they’ve largely been abandoned in favour of the newer, more strategically located downtown docks. There’s been grumbles in local politics for years about tearing the whole place down and turning it into a national park, but it hasn’t happened yet. Too expensive.
Warehouse 12 is the last one in the row. Trey and Chenya had gotten there as fast as possible, arriving fifteen minutes before the deadline. Chenya had gone in just a bit ago, to scout ahead and try to find Rook and Cater.
The silence is oppressive and heart-wrenching as the last few minutes before Trey’s deadline creep by. The warehouse looms over him. Its big, sliding front doors have fallen open a few inches, even though a chain and padlock is wrapped around the handles. The darkness past it seems to beckon to him with the promise of more abuse, and fear.
After what might have been an eternity of waiting, a text comes in from Chenya.
Chenya: Found them!!
Trey Clover:
Good! Can you get them out?
Chenya: trying, chained to wall
Trey sucks in a breath, and then glares at the padlocked doors.
Trey Clover:
I’ll give you time. I’m coming in.
Trey walks up to the doors, pulls them forward enough to make the gap bigger, and then ducks through underneath the chain.
It’s dark inside. Indistinct shapes suggest themselves from the gloom as his eyes sluggishly adjust. His footsteps echo slightly, suggesting that the space beyond is enormous…
His phone buzzes in his pocket. Trey jumps, then pulls it out. Is it Chenya? Are they safe?!
His heart sinks as he reads the text.
Unknown #: You’re late :(
Trey Clover:
I’m sorry.
Unknown #: I forgive you <3
Trey grits his teeth, forcing down his growing anger as he types back a reply.
Trey Clover:
Thank you… can we talk?
Unknown #: Soon. I have a gift for you.
Trey Clover:
I have a question… Do you want me to love you?
The answer comes so rapidly that it’s almost startling.
Unknown #: yes
Trey Clover:
Then I need you to let my friends go. Alive.
Unknown #: Soon <3 For you.
Trey Clover:
If you are lying to me… Then you won’t have me at all. Understand?
Unknown #: I want you~ … Can I give you my present now?
Trey pauses, reaching into his shoulder bag and running his fingers over the side of his thermos.
Trey Clover:
Sure
The warehouse lights come on with a loud, resonant clunk and an electrical hum. The room he’s in is a wide, open area the size of a basketball court. At one time, it probably had rows of massive shelves in neat aisles along the floor, but they’ve all been stripped away. Only the rusted, metal bolts that had anchored them to the floor remain.
In the center of the room, glittering like a diamond against the cracked, concrete floor, is a beautiful, glass table. A delicate, crystal bottle with a red ribbon tied around it has been placed teasingly in the center.
Trey looks at the table for a long moment, and then looks up. Above him is a mezzanine level with a row of darkened office windows. There’s a set of metal stairs that lead up to it at the opposite end of the room. Tucked into the space below the stairs are a pair of dimly lit, unisex bathrooms with the doors hanging slightly askew.
The floor is littered with crumpled paper, broken chunks of concrete, and seagull droppings. It’s clearly been abandoned for years. He takes a deep breath, and then reaches fir his phone.
Trey Clover:
uuuh… wow. Did you buy this?
Unknown #: Ha ha noooooo
Trey approaches the table, feet heavy.
Trey Clover:
You know if you wanted to take me out to dinner, I can think of better places. Actually I’d rather have been approached with dinner when you decided to make yourself known three days ago
Unknown #: You want to go out to dinner? <3
He squints at the bottle. It holds about two tablespoons of clear, red liquid, and has a tag hanging around the neck that says ’Drink Me.’ Clearly more drugs.
Trey Clover:
Honestly if you knew me as well as you say you do, then you should know that I’m easy. What is this? A potion?
Unknown #: A gift. Bottoms up~
Trey opens the top, and gives it a sniff, swirling it.
Trey Clover:
You REALLY like drugging me.
Unknown #: I like you relaxed.
Trey Clover:
I like being present. Can you see me?
Unknown #: Yes <3
Trey Clover:
Then here is my gift. My consent. I won’t fight you. No drugs.
He puts the bottle back down, chest tight as he types. ‘Please let this be enough.’
Unknown #: But you’re so tense! It won’t hurt you. Promise.
Trey Clover:
No worries. I prepared tea. Here I’ll drink some right now. It’s chamomile.
Trey uncaps his thermos and puts it to his lips. He can barely stand the smell. Bitter, and so astringent it nearly makes him gag.
Unknown #: Not the same :( … If you drink it I’ll show you my real face. No fancy mask. No tricks.
You’ll probably be really disappointed though.
Trey Clover:
It’s a very strong blend! But if you insist, how can I refuse?
Trey forces himself to drink three, disgusting mouthfuls from the thermos. He puts the cap back on, and then downs the stalker’s potion, breathing hard through his nose as he struggles to keep himself from immediately throwing up.
Trey Clover:
That was so gross.
Unknown #: Awwww, sorry. I’m not so good with flavours.
The lights come on in the mezzanine level, revealing the figure in the black bodysuit standing just inside one of the windows. They wave their phone at him, then cup it in one hand and tap the screen with a thumb.
Unknown #: Come on up.
Trey forces a smile, heart pounding in his ears as he begins making his way up. The metal stairs echo with each step.
At the top pf the stairs is a short walkway, protected by a chest-high handrail. Behind it, a door leads into the offices. The stalker opens the door, and then almost shyly holds out a hand for him to take.
“Come here, I have something to show you.”
Trey swallows hard, then forces himself to take the figure’s hand. “I thought you were going to show me your face?”
”I will~”
They lead him through the offices and to the other side ”Right… through… here!”
They open the door to another mezzanine walkway. Rook and Cater are chained to the railing by their wrists, and heavily gagged with duct tape. They recoil hard when the stalker opens the door, shaking their heads at Trey and screaming at him through the tape. Chenya is beside them, head hanging heavy and wrists tightly chained in the same position. He seems unconscious, but it’s hard to tell. His entire head is covered by a heavy, black hood.
”I caught a little sneak~” the stalker proudly presses a finger to Chenya’s hooded forehead, pushing his head up.
“…please… let them go.” Trey leans heavily against the wall, his voice weak, and his body swaying. Guilt and dread burns down the back of his neck, and makes his mouth overfill with nauseous saliva. “I swear… I’ll do anything. But only if they leave here alive. Please.”
“I already promised,” the stalker soothes. He lets go of Chenya and his head lolls to his chest with heart wrenching limpness. ”Do you still want to see my face?”
Rook is glaring furiously at the stalker, breathing hard through his nose. Cater is trembling with tears pouring down his face, shaking his head slowly.
“I do.” Trey nods, giving them a painful smile and swallowing hard as his mouth overfills with saliva. His body badly wants him to throw up, and it’s a struggle to fight it. “Sorry… I’m feeling woozy.”
“It’s all right.”
The stalker settles him on a metal folding chair, and then teasingly sits astride his lap. They cup Trey’s hands and bring them up to their face, slipping his fingers under the edge of the mask…
The fabric falls aside, and Cater is staring back at him, expression uncertain and uncomfortable.
“Hi Trey.” His voice is soft, and hollow.
“This isn’t a trick? You aren’t some stranger using my friend’s face? I…?” Trey looks between the Cater sitting on his lap, and the Cater chained to the mezzanine railing.
“No, I promised. Hey me, watchu doing over there?”
The chained Cater shrugs, and then disappears into a little flurry of diamond-shaped sparkles. A ‘Split Card’ clone.
“Chenya thought I looked sad, so he tried to let me go first, before Rook-Chan,” Cater hums. Rook makes a furious noise and yanks at the chains, fighting them for a moment in frustrated anger before falling still, chest heaving.
“So I jabbed him~ Same thing I gave you on our first night.”
“… What’s… the plan now? You have me…” Trey’s motivation to kill the stalker fades into dull, pitying sorrow as he stares back at Cater’s eyes. He can’t… he just can’t. Not when it’s Cater…
"The plan? I have to let them go now, because I pwomised," Cater pouts. "But I miiiiight keep them long enough to scrub their memories. Otherwise Rook will murder me~"
Rook makes a soft, angry noise and Cater sticks his lip out at him. "He's mad because I went through all his notes on everyone. He has sooooo many creepy notes! There’s literally whole book on just Chenya. Did you know that his UM only works if he knows where he is, and where he's going? If he's lost... then uh oh!" Cater gives Chenya's heavily hooded head a little finger wag. "No hopping around through dimensions. It's why he's so obsessed with paths and directions and all that."
“But how… how did you get into my apartment? Wait… did you… like… build a stack of yous? And climb through the window?” Trey wonders aloud. His head is so fuzzy. His heart is pounding in his temples, and little trembles are running down the lengths of his arms and legs.
"Actually, I was in the bakery the whole time. I figured out where to stand so I was under your closet and then..." Cater flicks his hand upward. "I stood on the counter and ‘Split Card!’ There's a me in your closet. And then Rook comes sniffing around, ugh." He gives Rook an angry smile. "So unsplit, and then the other me goes poof. Easy."
“Then… who…? Wait, did I actually just forget to close that window?”
Cater shrugs. "Wasn't me."
“Wow… maybe I really did just forget,” Trey sighs. “What about the hotel room? How were you able to afford the penthouse?”
"I borrowed Rook's credit card~"
“Ah… that’s mean…”
"It reaaaaally helped that he was super sleepy after he left your place that first night. What did you give him? It really knocked him out," Cater smiles knowingly.
“Just chamomile tea.” Trey responds, with a faint laugh. “Cater…” His heart feels like it’s breaking into ten million pieces as his vision starts to fade. “How did you know about Ms. Rosehearts?”
"Ohhhh, that. About a month ago, I was talking to Riddle," Cater rests his head against Trey's shoulder. "I got him drunk on accident, and he mentioned that his mom really went after you. Like, scary went after you. And then after that, she vanished. He never told the police, and the guilt over that really stuck with him, ha ha. So I put two and two together. Also Rook put it together, with a lot of extra theories as he do. He thinks she tried to stab you."
Rook deliberately looks away, hands curling into fists.
"But that doesn't matter now. You're going to come with me." Cater snuggles into his chest with a possessive little sigh.
“Where… are we going?”
"Anywhere we want to go. Somewhere I can have you all to myself," Cater pouts. "Why didn't you just let me keep the mask on? It was easier when you didn't know."
Over along the mezzanine rail, Chenya stirs weakly, tugging at the chains with a muffled, confused noise.
“I bet it was…” Trey can’t help but lament the same feelings. It was easier… easier when he didn’t know who this was. When he could hate a faceless enemy and not feel so torn and guilty. “Please… please let them go right now. We have a nice thing going right? No need for them to stay?” It might be the last thing he ever says. His chest feels as though its being crushed, and he can barely breathe. His chest hitches, and a light froth bubbles up between his lips, coating his tongue with a bitter, metallic taste.
“I already said…” Cater sighs, and then double-takes, staring down at Trey's face. "What…?"
His eyes widen and he snatches up the thermos, opening the lid and taking a sniff. He recoils with a horrified expression. "WHAT IS THIS?!"
“Chamomile… tea…” Trey falls limp against the folding chair, light fading from his eyes as he succumbs to the cocktail of poisons he brewed to save his friends.
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🧱 Technovision Metal Joints – Strength That Connects! 🔩🔥

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Industry 4.0 possibilities beyond Imagination
The term Industry 4.0 is more than just a buzzword; it’s the reality of today’s smart factories, automated warehouses, and connected businesses. By blending automation, IoT, data analytics, and artificial intelligence, Industry 4.0 opens doors to improvements once thought impossible. It’s changing how products are made, stored, and delivered, pushing businesses far beyond traditional limits.
The Core of Industry 4.0: Smart Automation and Connected Systems
At the heart of Industry 4.0 is the idea of intelligent automation. This doesn’t just mean machines working faster; it means machines working smarter. Connected production lines can identify bottlenecks in real time, automatically adjust to demand changes, and keep downtime to a minimum. For businesses, this results in higher efficiency, less waste, and improved product quality—turning everyday operations into seamless processes.
How IoT is Transforming Modern Manufacturing and Operations
IoT, or the Internet of Things, is a key pillar of Industry 4.0. In factories and warehouses, IoT devices collect data from equipment, products, and even employees. This information helps managers track inventory, schedule maintenance, and spot issues before they cause delays. For instance, sensors on a production line can alert teams to wear and tear, reducing unexpected breakdowns. The result is a smarter, data-driven way to manage operations.
Real-Time Data and Predictive Analytics in Industry 4.0
Industry 4.0 goes beyond just gathering data—it uses that data to make better decisions. Predictive analytics turns past and present information into insights about what might happen next. For example, by analyzing data, a factory might predict when a machine will fail and schedule repairs in advance. This proactive approach saves money and keeps production on track, turning data into one of the most valuable assets a business can have.
Smarter Warehousing & Logistics Enabled by IoT and Automation
The warehouse is one area where Industry 4.0 truly shines. Automated guided vehicles (AGVs) and robotic arms help sort, move, and store products faster than ever. IoT-enabled shelves update inventory levels in real time, while barcode and RFID systems ensure every product can be traced instantly. Together, these technologies speed up shipping, cut down errors, and improve customer satisfaction by ensuring products are always available when needed.
Role of RFID, Barcode, and Smart Sensors in Industry 4.0
While high-tech robots and AI often get the spotlight, the success of Industry 4.0 relies heavily on simpler technologies like RFID, barcode labels, and sensors. RFID tags track product movement without line-of-sight scanning, while barcode systems provide a cost-effective way to label and trace products. Smart sensors monitor temperature, humidity, and equipment health. All these tools create a detailed, real-time picture of operations, making smarter decisions possible.
Benefits of Embracing Industry 4.0 for Businesses of All Sizes
Industry 4.0 isn’t just for large corporations—it offers valuable benefits for businesses of every size:
Increased productivity: Automation and IoT free staff from repetitive tasks.
Improved accuracy: Data-driven systems reduce human errors.
Cost savings: Predictive maintenance lowers repair costs.
Better customer service: Faster order fulfillment and real-time updates. By embracing Industry 4.0, companies stay competitive, grow faster, and adapt to changing market demands more easily.
AIDC Technologies: Helping Businesses Navigate the Industry 4.0 Shift
AIDC Technologies India plays a vital role in making Industry 4.0 accessible to businesses across sectors. As experts in automated identification and data capture, they offer solutions like barcode scanners, RFID systems, and label generators. But they don’t just provide hardware—they guide businesses through system integration, training, and ongoing support. Whether it's a small retailer starting with barcode labelling or a large manufacturer adopting RFID and IoT, AIDC Technologies India ensures every client has the right tools and know-how to succeed.
Seamless Integration of Legacy Systems with New Smart Solutions
One challenge businesses face when moving toward Industry 4.0 is how to connect old systems with new technologies. AIDC Technologies India understands this challenge and helps clients bridge the gap. By integrating barcode scanners, RFID systems, and data analytics tools with existing ERP and warehouse systems, businesses can modernize step by step—without costly overhauls. This makes the journey to Industry 4.0 smoother and more affordable.
Future Trends: AI, Edge Computing, and Beyond in Industry 4.0
As technology advances, Industry 4.0 is evolving further. Artificial intelligence will make systems even more autonomous, while edge computing will process data closer to where it’s created, reducing delays. Augmented reality may help workers visualize data directly on equipment, and 5G networks will enable faster, real-time communication between devices. By staying updated on these trends, businesses can continue to innovate and maintain their competitive edge.
Conclusion & Call to Action: Explore the Power of Industry 4.0 with AIDC Technologies
Industry 4.0 brings possibilities beyond what many could have imagined just a decade ago. From smarter manufacturing and predictive analytics to automated warehouses and connected supply chains, the benefits are real and measurable.
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Maximising Space & Efficiency: The Role of Racking and Shelving Suppliers
In today's fast-paced business climate, effective storage solutions are no longer just necessary; they are a critical component of productivity. From warehouses and factories to retail spaces and workshops, the demand for high-quality racking and shelving solutions has skyrocketed. This need has resulted in a large network of racking and shelving suppliers that provide bespoke solutions to various sectors. The value of partnering with reputable rack and shelving suppliers cannot be overemphasised. These individuals supply more than simply items; they also provide experience, guidance, and bespoke plans to help firms make the best use of their existing space. Whether you're working with large industrial items or lightweight retail goods, the right supplier can help you build a system that promotes safety, accessibility, and organisation. One of the most significant advantages of working with professional racking and shelving suppliers is that you can obtain customised solutions. Each firm is unique, and storage requirements fluctuate depending on the kind of operations. A provider will normally examine the facility layout, understand the workflow, and offer storage systems that match the company's everyday operations. This approach ensures that storage does not impede operations but rather improves them. Furthermore, racking and shelving suppliers are at the forefront of innovation. With an increased emphasis on space optimisation and health and safety compliance, new rack and shelf systems are now designed with ergonomics, durability, and adaptability in mind. Trusted providers offer various innovations, including adjustable racks, modular shelving, and transportable storage units. Another reason firms need experienced racking and shelving suppliers is to ensure compliance with safety requirements. Properly built racking systems lessen the likelihood of accidents, particularly in high-traffic areas such as warehouses. Suppliers are familiar with industry standards and typically provide installation and inspection services to assure long-term safety and stability. Cost-effectiveness is also an important consideration when choosing storage options. Experienced racking and shelving suppliers know how to find a balance between quality and cost. While high-end materials and cutting-edge designs are widely available, vendors also provide long-lasting choices for enterprises with tight budgets. This approach enables small and medium-sized businesses to expand their storage capacity while maintaining quality. Furthermore, many organisations are becoming increasingly concerned about sustainability. Environmentally minded racking and shelving suppliers increasingly include recyclable and sustainable materials in their product line. Choosing such vendors supports green initiatives and improves a company's environmental credentials. It's also worth remembering that racking and shelving suppliers cater to both new and established enterprises. Start-ups frequently require assistance in creating a functional storage plan from the beginning, whereas established businesses may require updates or reconfigurations of their existing systems. In any situation, racking and shelving suppliers add value through their expertise and adaptability. Finally, racking and shelving suppliers play a far broader role than simply supplying equipment. They are solution providers who assist businesses in optimising operations by managing space efficiently, providing compliance support, and creating modern designs. As organisations expand, their knowledge of reputable racking and shelving suppliers will remain critical. Working together with trustworthy racking and shelving suppliers is a smart and calculated move for anyone wishing to increase their storage capacity.
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