#i literally just woke up and my voice is scratchy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moonstruckme · 3 months

Note

Hi! I love your works but the poly!marauders have my heart and soul. This is literally my first request ever but could we have poly!marauders as emts, where they are already in a relationship with the reader and reader keeps getting dizzy and passing out without a clear reason. Or literally anything established relationship and hurt/comfort with them.

I’m so bad at communicating and I hope you know and trust that people sincerely think you are amazing and believe in your talents even if we don’t know you in real life.

Much love and happiness for the new year <3

You're so sweet omg, thank you!! I slightly varied your dizzy/passing out idea but I hope this scratches the hurt/comfort itch <3

cw: severe dizziness, vomiting (this actually happened to me as a kid and I still have no idea what it was but it was ROUGH)

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

You wake with a whine already tearing from your throat. The room is dark, and yet somehow it’s spinning. You know this more by feeling than by sight.

You breathe heavily, patting the bed next to you until you find something that’s not sheet. You’re holding your head as motionless as you can. You think it’s slowing.

“Hm?” Remus grunts.

“Help.” Your voice is scratchy, choked with panic. “I don’t—I’m so dizzy.”

“What?” He shifts on the bed, and your plan to keep still is instantly foiled. The slight movement of your pillow sends your head rolling again. Terror claws up your throat. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” you stress. “I just woke up and it’s like I’m spinning, Rem, I can’t see and—”

“Okay, shh, shh. Calm down.” You feel his spindly hand set down on top of yours.

The sheets whisper as the other boys rouse, and then a light turns on. It’s instantly better and worse. You can make out vaguely that you’re in bed, but everything in front of you whirls. At least now you can detect movement as a brownish shape enters your field of vision.

“What’s going on?” James’ voice is groggy. His hand stretches across your clavicle. “Why’re you looking up like that?”

“She says she’s dizzy.” Remus lifts his head above yours, or you think he does, a smear of pale skin and brown hair. “Is everything still spinning, dove?”

You try to hum in affirmation, but it comes out a bit like a whimper. “It hasn’t stopped, but it gets worse anytime I move my head.”

“Sounds like vertigo,” Sirius says. You recall he’d fallen asleep on Remus’ other side, but you don’t know if he’s moved since then. It’s odd speaking to them like this, disembodied voices you can touch but not see.

A warm hand lays across your forehead. “No fever,” James murmurs. “Is it getting better when you’re still like that, angel?”

You swallow. Maybe it’s because you’re in a vulnerable state, but his concerned tone is making your sinuses hurt.

“A little. Not enough to see or anything.”

You feel the bed dip, and then someone’s knees are digging into the sides of your hips. “Alright, gorgeous,” Sirius says, “let’s sit you up.”

“That sounds not fun,” you voice your concern hastily.

He coos, enfolding you in a hug that presses you securely against his chest. “I know, baby, but it could help us figure out what’s going on with you, okay?” He starts leaning back slowly, pulling you upright with him. “There, good girl.”

You recognize the feel of James’ hand as it splays on your back, drawing big, sweeping circles. You feel like you could be sick. You close your eyes, but can’t decide if that helps. Everything is worse. There’s no escaping it.

Remus’ bony knuckles brush your forehead, rechecking your temperature. “Can you hear us alright? Are your ears ringing at all?”

“I don’t think so.” It’s hard to tell when everything else is already so disorienting. Could it be a quiet ringing? You’re not sure you’d know it if you heard it. “I can hear you fine.”

He hums. James’ hand leaves your back and the mattress shifts as he gets out of bed. You turn your head on instinct to see where he’s going. It’s the worst idea of your life. You groan as the spinning intensifies, dragging you along on a tilt-a-whorl you’d never agreed to. It’s the feeling of the drunkest you’ve ever been times a thousand.

Before you know it’s coming, bile rushes up your throat and spews out onto the bed.

“Oh, sweetheart.”

One pair of hands grips you by the shoulders, keeping you from pitching forward into your own sick, while another gathers your hair away from your face. You whimper as saliva strings from your mouth. Someone wipes it away with their sleeve.

“I’m sorry.” Your throat hurts, your voice flagrant evidence of how close you are to tears. Your hair is secured behind your head with a ponytail. “Shit, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright, darling, it’s not your fault,” Remus shushes you, using that tone he does when he’s trying to cover his own worry and soothe someone else’s at the same time. You once heard him talk this way to a kitten he was trying to coax out of the road. “Do you feel any better now?”

A sob catches in your throat. “No,” you confess.

If anything, the feeling has gotten worse. It’s like you’re swimming in your own head. You grope blindly for something to hold, and a cool hand presses itself into yours. Sirius.

“I’m really scared,” you choke out.

His fingers squeeze yours. “I know,” he says. “I’m sorry, baby, I know it has to be terrifying.”

He presses his lips ardently to your forehead. Wetness drips from your nose, and you grip his hand hard. It’s horrifically disconcerting not to be able to see your boyfriends, to be robbed of your sense of place, but their touches are grounding. The contact makes everything feel a bit more solid.

“James is getting some things ready to go to the hospital,” Remus says softly, and you realize they must have been having one of your silent eye conversations while you couldn’t see. Stupidly, you feel a bit left out.

“You can't help me here?” You’re pleading, your voice raw and wretched. You don’t want to make them feel bad, but what good is it to have three medically-trained professionals for boyfriends if they can’t utilize their expertise here at home?

“I’m sorry, dovey.” Remus’ thumbs stroke your shoulders. “Vertigo this severe is probably an ear infection, but it could also be something more serious. Either way, we can’t get you antibiotics without a doctor.”

“The quicker we go, the quicker you could be feeling better,” James says, signaling his return. “Here, honey, I brought this to clean you up.” He doesn’t tell you what this is, but a second later a warm cloth swipes across your mouth and over your chin, wiping away the vomit there.

“Thanks,” you say weakly.

You can hear the smile in his voice well enough to picture it, small and sympathetic. “My pleasure, angel. Do you think you’ll be sick again?”

“No.” You can say it with moderate certainty. Your head is still roiling, but it’s no longer taking your stomach with it.

“Okie dokie,” he goes on with his usual determined cheer. “I’ve got a change of clothes for you in the car, so I think we’re all ready to go. Hold your head here for me?” He presses it gently to what you suppose must be his chest, the neckline of his pajama shirt rough against your cheek. “I’ll try to keep as still as I can.”

Remus and Sirius let you go as James’ arms wrap around your shoulders and under your knees, lifting you off the bed. You push your face into his collar, grabbing a fistful of his shirt. Your vision swirls.

“Fuck,” you mumble.

“I’ve got you, my love.” James’ lips come down on your forehead, warm and sweet. “We’re gonna take such great care of you, I promise.”

947 notes · View notes

blooming-violets · 6 days

Note

private #5 bent over a table while somethings baking in the oven. is it too much to ask for tasm peter parker bending reader over?

[location based smut prompts]

The To-Do List

[tasm peter x fem!reader]

(reader is described as having a ponytail that is long enough for Peter to wrap around his hand and use as leverage)

His birthday cake was nestled happily inside the heated oven.

She got up early to make it for his special day. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail to keep out of her face while she had prepped and she was still in her pajamas from this morning. She had planned to have the cake in the oven, get her shower done, and place out his presents on the table all before he woke up.

Peter, of course, had other ideas.

He leaned against the kitchen doorway with a lopsided grin as he sleepily took in the sight of her. She paused when she saw him there, silent as ever, and crossed her arms.

“You are not supposed to be awake for another hour,” she chastised.

Thirty-five looked good on him. Every year he seemed to get more and more handsome.

His eye wrinkles grew as his smile widened. A strand of dark hair fell down his forehead and he absentmindedly brushed it away. He was shirtless with nothing but a pair of dark boxers to keep him decent.

She admired how defined his chest was. A hinting of his six pack was peeking out from just under the surface of his lean body.

“I smelled cake.” His voice was thick and scratchy with lingering sleep. Peter’s morning voice was one the sexiest sounds she’d ever heard.

She smiled as she rolled her eyes. It had hardly been in the oven for more than five minutes and it was already enough to get him out of bed.

“The kitchen is a mess. I was going to clean it all up and have your presents out and I was going to be all dressed up and looking extra cute. You ruined it all with your stupid nose.”

Peter laughed as he strode across the room to slip his arms around her waist. She looked up to admire him and wiped at a staining of toothpaste still clinging to the side of his lips. She caught it with her thumb and shoved it back into his mouth while he licked it off.

“You already look extra cute,” he mumbled around her thumb.

“I’m literally wearing your old, hole filled shirt and bright pink fluffy pants. This is not how I wanted you to see me this morning. It’s your birthday. I wanted it to be special.” She tugged her thumb back with a huff.

Peter stepped back to appreciate her outfit in the morning light. She had already been in bed by the time he crawled through their window last night.

“I like it,” he stated. “It’s hipster.”

She let out a laugh in response, “I don’t think you know what hipster means, babe.”

Peter shrugged, “It means you dress like a bum, right?”

“Oh my god, why don’t you go back to bed and try this again in an hour when everything is all set up, okay?”

“No,” he whined. He latched himself onto her back, snaking his arms tightly around her stomach to press her against him. “I’m up. It’s my birthday. Say happy birthday to me and tell me you love me.”

She grinned, snuggling back against his bare chest, “Happy birthday and I love you.”

“That sounded insincere but I will take it.” His hand slipped up under her loose shirt to cup a warm hand over her breast, lazily palming it while he nibbled at the edge of her ear. He always liked the feeling of her nipple coming to life and growing harder against his hand. He held onto her chest like one might cling to the safety of a favorite stuffed animal.

She groaned, “Your presents were supposed to be all set out nicely on the table. Instead you’re just greeted with a kitchen disaster of my cake baking. Are you sure you don’t want to sleep for another hour? I know you’re tired from last night. You were out late.”

Peter began to slowly waddle them back and forth towards the kitchen table, refusing to release his grip from around her waist or remove his hand from her breast, “I know of a present I can unwrap right here…”

She gasped under her breath, “Peter. This is no time. I’ve got a list of things to do.”

She felt him laugh quietly against her ear.

“Yeah and I’ve got a list of things to do, too. A whole list. Let’s see what the first thing to do is…” he pretended like he was reading off an imaginary piece of paper as he checked it over. “Ah, yes!”

He slipped his hands out from her shirt and placed a gentle hand between her shoulder blades to bend her over the kitchen table. With a quick swoop, he tugged down both her pants and underwear, leaving them hanging around her ankles. She let out a shocked cry.

“Unwrap presents…check!” He chuckled to himself, giving her bare ass a soft slap. “And what a beautiful present it is. Couldn’t have asked for anything better. Wow, you really know me, baby, I’m super impressed.”

“Peter,” she whined, pushing herself back up. “Not fair. I haven’t showered. I’ve got to get ready. I’ve-”

He cut her off with a kiss. His lips crashed against her and his tongue forced its way into her mouth to stop her from trying to protest further. She could taste the mint from his toothpaste still clinging to his tongue and she moaned as he pressed his hips into hers. He was growing harder by the second.

“Shut up,” he mumbled against her lips with a smile. “My birthday. My rules.”

“Okay,” she said with a dreamy sigh. It wasn’t hard to convince her. Her complaints were more for show than anything else. If Peter wanted her, he had her. “I love you, Pete.”

“If you love me so much then why don’t you take off that shirt so I can see my second present.”

She did as she was told, stripping it from her body, until she was standing naked before him. The bulge in his boxers twitched which made her smile. She loved the fact that she could make him so hard from sight alone.

Peter’s hand reached out to brush a calloused thumb across her hardened nipple, “Beautiful.”

He lifted her up onto the table so she was sitting closer to him and he moved between her legs. They wrapped around him so she could feel the heat of him soaking through his boxers and against her pussy. His eyes traveled down to her chest, taking in the sight, and sighing happily. His head dipped down so he could capture the waiting bud between his wet lips.

She let out a satisfied moan and ran her fingers through the back of his hair while suckled on her. His tongue bathed her breast, teeth nipping at her nipple, and soothing it over with quick kisses and light sucking motions. His mouth was magic. He didn’t even need to touch her pussy for her to already be soaking through his boxers as she ground against him.

“Feel that?” He groaned, bucking his hips. “Feel how hard I am?”

She whimpered.

“All for you,” he whispered, finding her lips once more to kiss her deeply.

All for her.

It was his birthday. She should probably be getting down on his knees for him and sucking him off or tending to him in some way but she was nothing but putty in his hands. Lost in the feeling of seduction he was casting over her.

Peter dragged her down off the table, smirking at the wet spot she had left behind, and spun her around. He folded her back in half over the table, scraping his nails down the length of her spine and over the swell of her ass.

“The next thing on my to-do list,” he breathed, his voice low and deep. “Is you.”

She heard him discarding his boxers and suddenly felt the wet, hot tip of cock slide up her open folds. She was more than ready for him. He never had to do much to have her begging for more. Her hips grinded against the air as if trying to draw him in closer but he only continued to tease her with the tip.

“Someone’s eager,” he commended, giving her ass another slap.

“Peter, please,” she gasped.

He kept up his tantalizing torture. Every time his cock bumped over her aching clit, her hips would jerk backwards, and she’d let out a quiet cry.

“Please what?” He asked with an air of innocence.

She groaned at his teasing, “Please fuck me! I want you to fuck me.”

“Aww,” he cooed. “Does my poor baby need my cock?”

She whined and nodded.

“You got up so early, didn’t you?” His nails dragged along her hips, making her squirm, as she humped frantically in an attempt to get at his cock. “You got up early to make my birthday so special. You baked me a cake. It smells amazing, doesn’t it? Smell it, baby.”

Her eyes widened in frustration, “Peter! Fuck me! Please, stop it.”

He ignored her pleas, getting off of them, as his cock twitched between her thighs, “Did you slip that cake into the oven just for me?”

She was nearly sobbing from her own arousal, ready to attack him if he didn’t shut up and fuck her soon. She arched her back to better entice him, wagging her ass and rubbing it against his hips. She pushed herself up with her arms so he could get a peeking view of her tits swaying in wait for him.

That seemed to do the trick because he had gone silent as he stared.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “Happy birthday to me.”

“I want it hard, Peter. Use me,” she whispered in an effort to finally push him over the edge. “I’m yours.”

He lined up his cock to her entrance and eased himself inside. She nearly doubled over against the table at the delicious feeling that flooded through her body.

“Yes, yes, thank you, baby, thank you,” she cried.

“You really love this cock, don’t you?” He breathed. “Do you love this cock more than me?”

“No, baby, never. I could never-”

He pulled out and rammed the full, thick length back into her with a loud slap.

She shrieked, falling forward into a flurry of mumbled moans, “I do, I do, I do. I love it more than you. I love it more than anything.” Tears pricked in her eyes from the overwhelming sensations taking over.

Peter chuckled to himself, “That’s my girl.”

Her ass slapped against his body with each plunging drive of his cock as he took her. Fast and hard, just like she asked. Every thrust felt like it was reverberating through her, waking up all her senses, making her feel more alive than ever before. It was sheer bliss. Anticipation already began to build. He knew exactly how hard to take her. Peter could be rough but he never went past her limits. He knew her inside and out. He knew just where to push her before retreating back to safety. The sounds of her tumbling moans and each inhale of breath was all he needed to direct his path.

He was filling her body, stretching her, taking her, building her up to that beautiful place of divinity. Her nails clawed at the table, scratching at the wood, trying to find some kind of purchase to steady herself with.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Peter!” She cried.

“That’s it, baby,” he panted. “I got you. Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

He wrapped her ponytail around his hand and jerked her head upwards. She arched her back to accommodate the move as he held her against him. She could feel his ragged breaths against her cheek and listened to his erotic panting in her ear. The sound was enough to almost send her flying straight into an orgasm.

The hand not keeping a tight hold of her ponytail wrapped around her to grab at her chest. He molded her breast between strong hands.

She loved taking his cock. Loved it so deep. Thrusting. Hard. Stretching her. Forcing her to take him. Peter was thick. Thickest man she had ever been with. He pushed her walls to their max. His beautiful body and the sounds he made when he fucked her where like heaven to her ears.

That familiar, sensual pressure began to grow inside of her with shallow waves lapping at the edges of her mind. Soon they would turn into giant swells. Taking her over until it was all she could feel.

His hand slipped from her ponytail to wrap around her neck. He gave a gentle squeeze. Nothing too forceful but enough to send her flying even faster towards that tsunami of pleasure. She was so close. So ready.

“Harder, Peter,” she sobbed. “Hard. Please. I’m-I’m…close…need it hard. Take me.”

Peter was never to deny a request like that. He shoved her back over the table and tumbled on top of her, humping frantically with long, heavy strokes into her cunt. He could feel her walls tightening. He could feel her body changing.

“Come on, baby,” he urged her. “Cum on my cock. Cum for me. Let me feel you.”

The universe exploded into blinding light.

She didn’t care how loud she was. Didn’t care if the neighbors would hear. In fact, she wanted them to. She wanted them to know exactly how well Peter Parker could fuck his woman.

Her toes curled and her legs kicked up as the sensory overload rocketed through her with golden waves of pure dopamine.

Peter took her straight to the edge and held her there, spasming and sobbing, as he continued to fuck her through the orgasm. Even as the waves slowly receded, they still lingered in tiny aftershocks, due to his relentless pounding. He had gotten her where she needed to be and now it was his turn.

He reangled himself into her, getting a better grip as he held onto her hips, and switched up his rhythm to slow. Peter liked to feel everything. He wanted to drag it out and feel her body wrapped around him. From fast and hard to slow and steady. His change of pace caused a low, drawn out moan to escape from her throat.

“You like that, baby?” He panted. “You like feeling every inch of me?”

All she could do was whimper in response as her sex spasmed again around him. This was a man who knew how to lengthen an orgasm. She was completely helpless to him. Her body was his play thing.

“Let me hear how much you love me, baby,” he whispered down in her ear as his cock buried straight to the hilt inside of her. “Let me hear you.”

She struggled to make any noise besides sobbing whimpers and broken cries.

He moaned in response, “That’s it. Those are those sounds that I love so much. My poor baby, all ravaged on my cock. Can’t even speak.”

He gave a small shudder and she knew he was close. She did her best to work her hips to meet his thrusts, squeezing him with her walls, sucking him in, clenching down.

“That’s good, baby, that’s good.” He moaned, his voice slowly losing itself as he got closer to the edge. “Ooh, fuck, keep that up. ‘M gon’na cum inside ya’kay?”

She loved it when he filled her. She loved feeling him drip down her leg as she carried him around with her. She would bathe in his semen if he wished it. It was his birthday, after all. The birthday boy could come wherever he pleased.

His long, slow strokes worked her up as another, tiny orgasm rippled through her. That seemed to be all he needed to follow.

Peter let out a low groan, his thrusts become more unrestrained with each passing second, and she took him. All of him.

With the sweetest of cries, he emptied himself inside of her. She could feel him swell and pulse until she was impossibly full. That tiny orgasm grew into something much bigger, taking over her body along with him, as she felt him collapse on top of her, both shaking, as he bit at her shoulders with soft, love bites until he finally calmed down.

He stayed like that, laid against her back and squishing her into the table, until he cock began to soften and he sadly slid back out. She tumbled back into his arms as they both fell to the spooning position against the kitchen floor. Naked, wet, and breathing heavily.

Peter’s hand found the comfort of her breast once more.

“Mmm,” he hummed. “Best present I could ask for. Thank you, baby. You’re too good to me.”

She grunted in response, still finding words to fail her. Instead, she rolled over in his arms, hooking her leg through his, and leaving a trail of kisses across his face to show much she adored him.

His eyes closed as he smiled happily at the feeling.

Eventually she would have to get up. Eventually she would have to shower and get dressed and clean the kitchen and set up his presents and frost the cake…but for now…

For now she was happy to just lay here on the floor in his arms.

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bratzforchris · 8 months

Note

would love if you could writing a calum fluff! anything you have in mind

Five More Minutes

❃

Summary: You hate mornings, but being with Calum makes them a tiny bit better

Pairing: Calum x gender neutral reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 431

A/N: This was originally a slash fic I took from my own AO3 account (@sgfgsun). It is under the same title<3

❃

Calum opened his eyes when he felt your bony elbow dig into his ribcage. He chuckled as he saw you sprawled out, hogging most of the blankets, limbs taking up nearly all of the bed. Your face was smashed into a pillow, all your hair puffy and fanned out, and Calum was pretty sure that was a string of drool hanging from your plump, pink lips.

The dark-haired boy tried to gently push your foot that was currently digging into his stomach off, only for you to sleepily grab his wrist.

“Mmmm stop…” You whined, your scratchy morning voice on display. “I need my beauty sleep.”

“You’re kicking me in the stomach with your feet,” Calum huffed. "How am I supposed to get my beauty sleep when I'm being kicked?"

He really couldn’t even pretend to be mad though. He loved the way you always used the “beauty sleep” excuse. You’d been doing it since you two had started spending the night together as a couple last year, and he still thought it was one of the cutest things about you.

“I can’t help it. I just naturally sleep this way.” You mumbled, face smushed into the pillow still.

“If you a) stop kicking me and b) get up, I’ll go on a coffee run.” Cal bargained, knowing just how much you loved vanilla lattes and blueberry muffins from the café down the street.

“Five more minutes,” You groaned. “It’s early.”

“It’s ten-thirty. That’s literally not early.” Running a tattooed hand along your back, Calum kissed your hair, carding his fingers through the strands.

“I will cut you.” You huffed, knowing his ‘manipulation’ tactics were working.

“You wouldn’t dream of it.” Calum laughed evilly and started tickling you.

“Stop! I’m up! I’m up!” You wiggled and squirmed.

Calum’s heart swelled at the sound of your bright laugh. Not to be dramatic or anything, but he was pretty sure that laugh was the reason he woke up every morning. “That’s what I thought.”

“You know what tickling means.” You fluttered your eyelashes innocently.

“And what’s that?” he asked, raising a brow.

“You gotta pay the kisses tax.” You smiled.

“Says who?” Cal fake rolled his eyes, knowing it would get a reaction out of you.

“Me!” You cheered gleefully, wrapping your arms around Calum's shoulders and peppering his cheeks with kisses.

“Ugh fine. Only cause you’re cute.” Calum smiled, straddling you and peppering your face with kisses.

“Also, about that latte…” You mumbled into the kiss with a smile.

“Lattes are only for people who get up on the first try.”

“WHAT?”

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shesjustanothergeek · 1 year

Text

His Love

|Aegon II Targaryen x FemReader|

Part Two

Master List of Series

Summary: Being a bastard born in the slums of Flea Bottom was all you were known for. Not the streak of white you had in your dark hair, the violet ring around your pupils, nor how your sharp tongue and skills with the blade resembled your father, Daemon Targaryen. You were just a bastard, nothing more, but to him, to Aegon Targaryen, you were everything. You were his love.

Author's Note: OMG, OMG, OMG, THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR THE LOVE! I hope I tagged everyone that wanted it. I thought few people would be interested in this story, so THANK YOU.

Chapter Warnings: Literal fucking grooming like IDK what else there is.

A pounding on your bedroom door woke you. You didn't want to listen as they shouted at you to get up, curling further into your scratchy wool blankets.

Thump, thump, thump, it sounded again. You groaned, slinking off the bed and down the straw mattress, hugging yourself against the cold.

"Yes," you answered the door in a sing-song voice, leaning on the frame. Lyra quickly ran inside your room, shutting the door and locking it from the inside. You looked at her, puzzled, as she ran around, closing the curtains and going into your small wardrobe. "What are you doing?" You asked, following her with your eyes as she scurried like a mouse.

"We must hurry. It will not be long until he is here." Her hair was wild as she found your satchel, shoving as many clothes as she could into it.

You were on her heels in an instant. "What? Who is coming, Lyra?" You attempted to put your hand on her shoulder, but she brushed it off, your panic slowly beginning to match hers.

"Make haste, sweet girl. Get your shoes," she pointed at the two lumps of worn brown leather, throwing them when you didn't move.

"Lyra, please speak plainly. You are frightening me," you said softly, fiddling with your thumbs.

At the sound of your timid voice, Lyra finally stopped, turning to you quickly as she saw the expression on your face.

In her panic, she ignored you, forgetting what Madam had told her. Her words had been grave, trusting Lyra with the news that had reached them from the Red Keep. Lyra couldn't tell you the truth; that was made clear to her by Madam. It could make things so much worse, but seeing you standing there, with glassy eyes and a girlish demeanor, so kind and innocent, made her heart melt.

"We-we have to..."

Lyra couldn't do it. She couldn't lie to you. She trusted Madam's judgment to keep this as vague as possible, but she didn't have to speak face-to-face with you. Lyra wished she had been there instead.

"Oh Gods, please forgive me Madam," Lyra begged, cursing herself for what she was about to do, looking up at the ceiling. "Your father is coming. He means to take you away from us."

Your mouth fell open, a dreadful yet excited feeling churning in your stomach. "My father?" You asked, unsure if your sleepy ears deceived you.

"Yes, he is coming here. Please hurry." Lyra shoved as many items as she could fit into the bag, handing you a dark cloak as she unlocked the door and stepped into the hall.

Too much time had passed with the whisper game everyone connected to the royal family played. Lyra knew what it would mean for him to come here, but whether it was to kill you or have you be with your blood relatives, she did not know. Either outcome was not something she wanted you to experience.

You were frightened by Lyra's body language as she led you through the candle-lit hallways and down the creaky, wooden stairs. The only way to either exit was through the main floor or down into the cellar, and even then, you would still have to navigate through the working women and their customers. Your father had not made his appearance yet, and Lyra was relieved as you reached the last step that everything seemed normal.

You had never met him, your father, or anyone related to you by blood. Your mother had left her family long before you were conceived. A land that was far to the North, Madam had once told you, but other than that, you had yet to learn where they could be.

It made you feel guilty how flustered Lyra was as she yanked you to the back exit, that you were thrilled with the possibility of meeting a relative. You couldn't understand why they would be so scared of him. He stayed away this long without so much as a letter, so who was to say that he would show?

You were sure he only wanted to see you as a parent would for a child they hadn't known existed. If he genuinely cared about your mother enough to commit such actions with her, why hadn't he come sooner? Indeed he would have seen your mother pregnant. There was no way she could hide something like that forever. That part always needed clarification for you. Ma refused to give you the full details no matter how much you bugged her, and all of the other girls would glace quickly to the side and excuse themselves when you asked.

"Lyra, why is my father coming for me now, after all these years? Madam said he did not want me. Did Ma lie to me?" Lyra froze, looking around the dim hallway that led to the back door.

She was taken aback by how plainly you asked these tough questions, by how you would stare up at her with wide eyes, curiosity being the only emotion in them. You did not beat around the bush. Even at a young age, you knew what you wanted and would not dance around it. It was a trait few adults possessed, and Lyra admired it.

"No, no. The Madam would not lie to you," she brushed the strands of hair tussled by sleep as she stared her blue eyes into yours. "She would never lie to you, dearest." You narrowed your eyes at her before you spoke.

"Then why is she so afraid of him?"

Lyra made a noise in the back of her throat, unable to answer. She knew she couldn't tell you of your father's status. As a girl with an investigative mind, she realized that you would want to be with him if you found out. What child wouldn't?

"Lyra, I want to stay and meet him." You crossed your arms and planted your feet, stating your final position.

"No, you cannot," she protested quickly, grabbing your bicep and attempting to lead you to the exit. You stood firm, unwavering with your decision as she tugged again.

"Stop this foolishness! You do not wish to meet your father," she said, frustrated.

"Yes, I do!" You pulled your arm out of her grip, backing up and few paces. "I have been good, Auntie! I haven't asked Ma about my father in a very long time. I have never asked her to see him, or have attempted to run away to meet him!"

Your voice was more complex. You were pouring out all the questions you had kept bottled since you could think.

"Why has Ma not let me see him? Why has she kept me hidden since I was born?" Lyra pursed her thin lips in sympathy, feeling for you as she saw tears well in your exotic eyes. She knew of the apparent reasons Madam treated you the way she did, but Lyra could not speak for Madam, and no explanation was able to form.

"Tell me, Lyra, tell me," you shouted.

She began to plead with you, attempting to grab your hands as you kept retreating further and further away from her until both of you were no longer near the back exit. "I cannot speak for Madam, but you know she loves you. You know that everything she has ever done has solely been in your best interest, to protect you!"

"To protect me from what? My father? To save me from being with my own blood?" Your hands gestured wildly, tears now flowing freely down your plump cheeks.

"We are your blood, not your father!" Lyra clutched her chest, her voice and face mirroring yours. "We raised you! Ma raised you, not him! We taught you to walk, led you to speak, made you who you are now! We cleaned your scraped knees and picked the rocks out of your hands when you fell! I helped you through your first bleed! Does that mean nothing? Does the parent you have never met mean more to you that that?"

You hiccuped, rubbing vigorously at your snot and tear-covered skin as Lyra approached you as if you were a frightened animal. Perhaps you were; you certainly felt like one.

"Let her go then," Madam's voice startled the both of you as she entered the brothel. "Let our daughter leave us to be with the man who will never care for her. Not like we have." Lyra looked between you, eyes flickering rapidly as she tried to understand Madam's reasoning.

"Madam," Lyra protested weakly, "I do not understand..."

Ma had an expression on her face you had never seen directed at you before, only at patrons who had disrespected her in some way before she kicked them out.

The conflict raged within you. Your chest tightened, a string suffocating your heart until it could not beat. Your mind knew it wanted Madam, the woman who had loved you unconditionally, it seemed, up until this moment, but the young, selfish, reckless part of you wished for the man they kept you from. That could be something you and your father had in common. A trait that could be passed on even without his presence.

"Ma..." you said, voice soft and quiet like the kid you were.

"If it is your father you want, it is your father you will see."

The pain in your chest was replaced with fear as Ma walked towards you, grabbing you by the scalp. You yelped and shouted in protest, trying to break free without hurting yourself even more as she dragged you to the front door, stopping and positioning your face to hers.

"Lyra. The bag." She mentioned with her head as Lyra handed it to her, staring at it for a moment before shoving it into your torso and opening the door. You stumbled backward into the busy street. The loud sounds of people chattering with drunken slurs were the only thing you could hear. A woman you had never seen stood in Madam's place, years of love and memories all wiped from her mind.

"Do not return here. Be with your father."

***

You hated the streets of Flea Bottom. It was always crowded, and now, in the heat of high summer, that was the last thing you wanted. It wasn't so bad from your place under a fabric awning, but the stink of bodies, all perspiring from the morning work, was enough to make even the freshest milk curdle. The air shined with humidity and heat. The puddles from yesterday's storm were warm as you washed the sweat and tears from your face.

The market deflated slightly, everyone closing their stalls for a midday meal as you sauntered from your hiding spot. The merchants were distracted and careless, and you quickly grabbed whatever you wanted from their stocks, indulging your childish desires. Your satchel bulged with trinkets and an apple by the time you were satisfied. As the throng of people moved, you let yourself be swept by the current. Your nimble fingers darted in and out, always fleeting touches—a coin purse off a man's hip, a bracelet from a woman's wrist. The villagers were too busy shuffling along to notice a five-foot-something pickpocket next to them in the crowd.

A gang of children, little thieves in training, you thought, slinking through the people with sticky, searching fingers. They're too young to be good at it, and the City Watchmen is quick to intervene. The kids would be sent to the stocks, or worse, have their tiny fingers sliced off, ensuring they would never steal again. No mercies were given for the scum of Flea Bottom.

A sharp pull on the hood of your cloak nearly makes you tumble backward. You turn, grabbing at the hand and squeezing tight, so they won't be able to run away. Instead of a skinny kid, you find yourself staring at a smirking face.

"You." Prince Aegon chuckles, shaking off your grip.

"Me," he responds, still with that dumb smirk. You grimace, crossing your arms as you catch the way he eyes your body.

"What are you doing here, my Prince," you mock the title, bowing as an added effect. "I would expect you to be knee-deep in whores at Madam's place by now." Aegon chortled, clapping your shoulder as he urged you forward along with the crowd.

"That was my plan, little one, but I would rather keep your company." He linked his arm with yours, placing his large hand over your smaller one. You scoffed but didn't protest as he led you in the opposite direction of the brothel. "If I may ask," he started, stroking the top of your fist, "what are you doing here, so far away from your home? It is not safe for a girl like you to be wandering the streets alone. You might encounter some unsavory individuals."

"I can handle myself, your grace. I have fared these sandstone streets and alleyways my whole life. I did not get the luxury of feather tick mattresses to dream on and goblets of wine to warm my throat." Aegon bellowed at your dig into his pampered life, nearly doubling over as he held his stomach. His breath smelled like he hadn't drunk water in days, which was probably true.

His laughter continued as you walked hand in hand. It was a loud, boisterous noise that seemed to stretch on for far too long. The villagers began to give both of you looks. You shifted uncomfortably, attempting to remove your hand from Aegon's arm, but he refused to let go, gripping your fingers until they turned white, still snickering.

"I am glad my impoverished upbringing entertains you, my Prince," you snapped, yanking your arm with enough force to be free finally.

He loved how you spoke his title like poison in your wet, pink mouth. It brought satisfaction that no Dornish wine or untouched virgin pussy could get him. Your words flowed through his ears and into his bones, sinking into the marrow and becoming the blood he needed to survive.

Aegon tucked a strand of hair that came to lose from the braided style you wore, staring as he traced his grimy fingertip through the patterns, disarming you with gentleness. You were beautiful, enchantingly dark eyes with purple staring back at him with parted lips. A soft, curious expression is painted on your face.

"You speak so eloquently for a girl of your station," he confessed, not thinking as your beauty mesmerized him. Your gentle face soon morphed back into a hardened one, insulted at his comment.

"I also seem to have all my teeth and keep my legs closed too. There are many things a girl of my station can possess," you said harshly.

Aegon felt his cock thump in his trousers, begging to spring free and find its place between your lips. He wondered what words you would say then-- what sounds you would make. He wanted to snuff out that fire within you but also stoke it. See how wild he could make the inferno until every single land of the Seven Kingdoms was ashes. Only then would he dampen it, place the cover over the yellow-orange flames with simple touches or sweet words, and then start the process once more.

"I meant no offense, my lady," he apologized, holding his hands up in surrender. You didn't give the dignity of a response, only humming as you turned your eyes forward.

***

Judging by the position of the sun setting in the west of Kings Landing, it was around seven in the evening, curfew only three hours into the future. Without realizing it, Aegon had led you back to Ma's place, stopping at the front entrance littered with giggling women and slurring men.

You had wandered the road and alleyways to the Streets of Silk, the different shopping districts, and back to Flea Bottom, talking mindlessly about anything and everything that slipped past your lips.

Your image of Prince Aegon in your head was completely different than how he was. He was still a drunk, pampered palace boy who got whatever he wanted when he wanted, but there was something else there, too, behind the thick veil of impulsiveness he used as a disguise. To your surprise, he was thoughtful, polite, and observant. It was easy for the drunken prince to be written off as someone that wouldn't remember what you said moments prior, too self-absorbed in his cup to care. But they were wrong. It was unwise for people to believe that, which is why he knew so much about the people in court.

He knew that Lady Tyrell had taken on a female lover. That Cregan Stark hated the Hightowers with a burning passion rivaling Daemon Targaryen himself and that Lord Beesbury was allergic to bees. (The irony was not lost on you as you laughed until tears were in your eyes.) Aegon's affinity for making people feel like he wasn't significant enough to keep their secrets from him was astounding. You would think that the eldest-born son of King Viserys would be seen as more important than that. You wondered what his reputation was inside the Red Keep. His being a drunk was not a reason to have loose lips around him.

"This is our final destination, my lady. I wouldn't want your mother to cut my ear off, she seemed moments from it when I first met you a fortnight ago." He could only recall the streak of white in your hair as you hugged yourself to Madam at the time. You giggled, remembering the rage on Ma's face when she saw him talking to you, then remembering that same rage was directed at you not too long ago.

Aegon smiled down at you, his breath no longer stinking of alcohol but of the sweet citrus blend of juice he had bought for the both of you. The pain was still fresh in your mind, the happy memories of today overshadowed by it. He took notice and gently turned you to face him, your eyes downcast in shame.

You were beginning to cry and did not want him to see it-- see you so weak. You may have portrayed yourself as a strong, independent, blossoming young woman who could take care of her own needs, and to a point, you were, but you were still a girl. You needed Ma.

You sniffled, trying to move away from Aegon, but he held you firm, gripping your chin with his thumb and pointer finger.

"What is wrong, little one?" He asked sweetly, only making the salty tears spill more. "My pretty girl, please speak to me. Is it because you do not want our fun to end," he jested, though still concerned.

"No," you mumbled softly, shaking your head as your saliva turned to globs in your mouth. It took everything inside him not to kiss you right there.

"Then tell me, so I can mend it." Aegon sounded so sure of himself that he almost convinced you. He was so kind to you that you believed he would do anything you asked. Perhaps you could ask him to run in there and demand Ma to take you back. You probably could.

"I made a mistake," you said before collapsing into his body, hands clutching at his brown tunic.

Aegon felt his heart skip a beat when your short arms wrapped around his torso; his reaction was delayed as he did the same for you. He wanted to do so many things to you. He wanted to carry you to his quarters in the Red Keep and bed you. He wanted to steal that precious maidenhood of yours, watch the same tears flowing under him, but he could not.

For the first time in years, Aegon Targaryen showed restraint.

His arms were crushing you, but you didn't care. You welcomed the physical pain, focusing on that rather than the emotional.

"Ma hates me," the words began to leak from your mouth before you realized it. "She-she told me never to come back because... because..." A sob ripped from your chest, and you pressed into Aegon further, so you could feel him squeeze you tighter.

"Why does she hate you?" He questioned into your hair, inhaling the sweet scent of your sweat.

"Because I am a terrible daughter! Because I am a horrible person! Because I want to know my father! I am the child of a whore and a deadbeat." The people lining the entrance began to turn their heads at the pair of you, seeing the white-haired prince holding a young girl crying. They knew what that meant and kept to themselves. "I have lost the only people in the world who care about me." You knew you sounded childish, but you were too upset to care.

"You are not a bad person or terrible daughter. I do not believe that at all. Your intelligence and beauty are far more superior than any woman or man at court." His comforting words made you feel slightly better, happy to hear the affirmations you desperately needed finally. "Our time together, though it has been brief, has been the happiest moments of my life, and I have attended a New Year celebration with the Dothraki," Aegon boasted as he pinched your arse. You squealed, swatting at him as you tried to get away, chuckling.

Aegen let go of you, his arms trembling from how hard he squeezed you as he looked into those beautiful eyes again. He was still in a lust-filled drunken haze when he met you. The memory of you from a fortnight ago was very muddy. The more minor details of your body were forgotten. Oh, how the purple in them reminded him of his own, and the white streak woven into your hair was similar to his.

Oh...

How had he not seen this sooner when it was staring at him right in the face? It finally made sense, the sudden arrival of his Uncle. Aegon had thought it weird for Daemon to arrive without Rhaenyra and the rest of them unannounced and even more strange that he wanted to speak with his mother and Larys Strong. But now, it all made sense why his mother had looked so interested in his drunk rambling one dinner. Daemon had sired a bastard, and that was you.

He smiled to himself. It explained why you had that fire, why Aegon felt so drawn to you. You had the blood of the dragon coursing through your veins.

"Do not laugh at me, Aegon. It is not funny." You push him away, embarrassed that you have let yourself become so exposed in front of him.

"I am not laughing at you, little one," he said kindly, "I just thought of something that might make this all better." You snorted in disbelief and rubbed the tears away.

"What could possibly make this better?" You questioned skeptically as he grinned. His sweet words at done a great deal to help, but the pain was so raw and fresh that you needed a distraction.

"Accompany me tonight, my fair maiden," Aegon bowed deeply at the waist, extending his palm out, "and you shall find out."

You let out a shakey breath, almost laughing as you took his hand. He kissed your knuckles, brushing them with his thumb as he led you into the humid darkness.

Smut? NO! Only fluff! Don't worry, we'll get to the debauchery in the next part. ;)

Thank you for reading!

Master List of Series

Tagged peeps: @zeennnnnnn, @malfoytargaryen, @targaryencore, @justasmallbean, @alexandra-001, @buckysmainhxe, @omgsuperstarg, @sommornyte, @minttea07, @silverslive, @unclecrunkle

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skoulsons · 1 year

Text

My Hand Was The One You Reached For

based off a @sarahspancakes post bc it was literally murdering me. This took like four hours bc this Applebees is noisy and I couldn’t focus

Nights like this are more normal than a full night's rest. The nights when they’re both awake, nightmares unrelenting as they find solace in the other. Comforting words and offering soothing reassurances to each other in the dark. A grounding touch in a hug or hand hold, gentle circles spread across their skin and tight squeezes for reminders. I’m here. You’re safe.

Joel found her shouting in bed and eventually thrashing against him as he grabbed her shoulders to wake her, desperation in his voice. “Ellie, baby, it’s just a nightmare! Baby, c’mon, come back. It’s me, it’s Joel.”

She woke up with a start, as she always did. Heavy breaths accompanied by tight fists, typically in her covers or the slack of her sheets. Tonight, it was the collar of Joel’s shirt.

He stayed completely still, letting her hold on as long as she needed to to calm down. He was kneeling at her bedside, his left arm on one of her outstretched forearms and the other rested on her shin.

She let go of his shirt, the fabric wrinkling along his neckline. She pulled her knees to her chest and crossed her arms around them, placing her chin between her knee caps. He pulled his hand from her shin away, but she quickly caught it, holding it in hers as she continued to hold her knees to herself.

There was silence for a few minutes, the two of them breathing evenly together. Joel rubbed circles along the parts of her hand his thumb could reach, Ellie rubbing some back in response, like they were communicating through it. I’m here. I know.

Joel broke their silence, trying to meet her eyes. “Do you want me-“ he asked, voice still laced with sleep.

“No… no, I don’t want to cuddle. Can we just… sit? In the window seat?” She sounded shy, unsure.

She hated waking him up. She hated being… like this. Broken. Damaged. Different.

Joel had nightmares, but he knew how to handle them. He had ways to fight them off. He didn’t always get more sleep after them, but he could push them down, at least for a little while.

Ellie couldn’t. She always woke up screaming and sweaty, unsure touch was real. She relived it every night, every image and sound as fresh as the night it happened. No matter what she tried, they were relentless. He was relentless.

But Joel takes all of it with so much grace and love that it’s overwhelming. He holds her every night, gentle reassurances whispered between hugs and sobs. Feather-light hand holds and kind, watery eyes. Reserved terms of endearment and faithful reminders. A calloused yet soft pressure against her cheek and scratchy kisses against her temple.

It’s his way of saying it.

He smiled softly, eyeing the seat in question. “Course, kiddo. C’mon,” he urged, offering his palm in her direction. She took it as he guided her over, sitting on the edge of the seat together. The tips of her toes only grazed the wooden floor beneath her as she swung her feet.

Ellie stared blankly into her room, her eyes adjusting to the mix of moonlight trickling into the darkness. She wasn’t moving beside Joel. She was stuck, immovable as she watched the darkness, images forming from the shadows and dancing in her vision. Guns. Hands. Blood. Smoke. Machete.

“Hey…” Joel started, leaning forward so she could see his face. “You okay?”

She blinked at home, taking in the half of his face lit up by the moonlight. “Mhm,” is all she can manage.

Almost every night, they snuggle. Ellie never fails to fall asleep so damn fast when she’s held against him, the warmth of his hold and the beat of his heart making the perfect combination to sleep to.

But tonight was different. She didn’t want that. She wanted, needed to stay up. To be grounded or distracted, rather than comforted. But sitting together wasn’t enough for her.

Joel grabbed her left forearm with his left hand, holding it against his thigh. He brought his right hand over both their arms and held her left in his.

Ellie shivered as lightly drew his fingers back and forth over her palm.

“Okay?” He asked, making sure it wasn’t too much.

Ellie just nodded in response, relaxing her arm.

“Now, it’s just a little game. I, uh… used to do it with Sarah.” He cleared his throat, pushing down the memories of sitting on Sarah’s bed and calming her down after bad dreams. “All I’m gon’ do is draw some letters on your palm one at a time. You gotta guess the word I draw. ‘S’all it is.”

“Is there a point to it?”

“No, not really. Jus’ calmed her down.” He sighed, a hint of grief in it. “Made her laugh, too. Tickled her, just like you.”

She smiled at the thought. Joel as a father was always an… interesting image. She only knows who he is now and the things he’s done, not the single father he was Before. Tommy mentioned once how gentle Joel was before the world went to shit.

Ellie thinks she gets glances of him Before in how he treats her, especially on nights like these.

“Alright, I’ll start off easy,” he said, lightly drawing a letter into her palm with his pointer finger.

“G?”

Joel smiled. “Good. Now…”

“I?”

He continued, drawing R A F until the cogs in Ellie’s head turned, spinning in sync.

“Giraffe!” She exclaimed.

Joel chuckled, rubbing his thumb over her palm. “Good job, kiddo. Another?”

“Fuck yeah!”

“Alright, what about…”

Joel got as far as D I N before Ellie guessed correctly, her making a backhanded joke about I can’t believe you used yourself for this game.

He traces a few more; things he knows will get her mind out of, or at least away from, where it was. Sally Ride, Contractor, even Shimmer.

Joel stopped tracing letters and interlocked his fingers with hers. “Do you think you can get some sleep?” He didn’t want her to, but she needed it. And if she wanted him to stay, he would.

She looked up at him. “No… wait, I want to do some on you.” She rubbed her thumb lightly over his hand. “Can I do one or two?”

“Course, kiddo. You can do as many as you want.”

She shuffled closer to him, somehow, and adjusted their arms so she was holding his forearm instead, hand over his.

“Okay,” she started, rubbing her fingers back and forth on his open palm.

She started one at a time, just as he did.

“O… L… D… whoa, hey-“ he started, grabbing her fingers and squeezing them against his palm so she couldn’t trace anymore.

She giggled, leaning her face into his arm. “I have a real one, I swear.” She caught her breath and focused on his hand.

They were calloused, plenty of tiny cuts amongst the aged lines of his palm. Even with callouses and broken, red wounds, they were still soft. They were comforting, steady.

They are what hold her. They’re what dried her tears and helped her off the ground. Nightmares are chased away when her hands are engulfed by his. They’re guiding and protective. They’re gentle and stable. The same hands that have beat men to death and choked the air from their lungs are the same ones that rub circles on her back and draw letters into her palms.

And Ellie’s not good with words. Neither of them are. They can never say what they want to, what they should, so it always comes down to touch. A kiss to her temple, a hug, a hair ruffle, a hand hold, or a myriad of other small ways they’ve grown accustomed to showing their love for each other. But there has to be a right time for it.

And this, Ellie thinks, is the right time.

She starts right in the middle of his hand and draws one line down before lifting her hand slightly from his palm.

“I” he says.

She goes back, drawing another line down, but continues it out towards his thumb before pulling her hand away again.

“L”

She draws a circle next, her hands starting to shake.

“O”

She breathes in then starts the next line, diagonal from his pinky to the bottom of his palm. Then another up towards his pointer finger.

“V”

Joel realizes way later than he should’ve. It was obvious when her hands started to shake. She loves a lot of things. It’s different.

But something tells him that’s not the case.

She draws another line down the left side of his palm and then three more jutting to the right from the main line.

“E”

She breathes in louder than she wants. She places the tip of her finger by his pinky, drawing a short diagonal line before taking the line up towards his pointer finger creating a small “v”. But she goes back, drawing a straight line down at the point of the “v”.

“Y”

She pauses, waiting. He knows. She knows he knows. A part of her wants him to hold her now. To say something. I know, baby. I know. I do too. But they’re not good with words. She wants him to initiate it; to hold her to rock them back and forth, no words needed to express something so profound. She wants it to be easy for them. She wants to say it every morning and before either one of them leaves the house. She wants to say it as he leaves a room and when they say goodnight. She wants to say it in the mundane tasks, just as a reminder for the other that yes, we do.

But that’s not the case, so she continues.

She draws another circle, hands shaking the worst at this point.

“O” he says, and she can hear the tears in his throat.

She draws one last time, starting at his pinky again. She stops, holding her hand above his.

“U”

She drops her head against his arm, cheek squishing against the pressure. She interlocks their fingers again, Joel squeezing tight to her, his knuckles going white only briefly as to not hurt her.

She pushes her legs against his, desperately trying to force herself as much into his personal space as she can manage.

He places his left hand over both of theirs, rubbing copious amounts of circles and comforting movements along her fingers. She holds on to his forearm like it’s the only thing keeping her alive.

He presses his lips to the crown of her head, kissing the mess of bed-hair that’s still present. He kisses two- three times.

Three times.

She realizes, too, what he means.

It’s his way of saying it.

#Applebees this is for you #just imagine you’re all tagged #bc you all are #this is lazy and not good #but I hope you all enjoy anyway #sleepy time !!#the last of us hbo #the last of us #joel miller #ellie williams #the last of us fanfiction #L fics

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slafkovskys · 8 months

Note

boldy boldy boldy boldy boldy!!!!!

I think abt the blurb of you wearing his shirt and staying over one night literally every single day of my entire life so I am humbly requesting a part two of what the next morning was like (the more tooth rotting the better tbh) (also if you don’t know what I’m talking about I can send you the link lol)

part one

“i could so get used to this,” his voice is scratchy when he wakes up, a sleepy smirk on his face as his eyes finally blink open. “you’re never leaving. ever.”

“i’ve got work though,” you pout as his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you into his body. you run a hand through his messy hair, “i have to go back at some point.”

“you could do it from here. we have wifi,” there he goes again with his pitching and you can’t help but to smile. “just want to be around you always.”

“that’s great because i’m hungry. you can come help me make breakfast!”

you pat at his chest before untangling yourself from his arms. you grab a pair of pants from the floor and he whistles as you bend down (spoiler: he had not kept his hands to himself) causing your cheeks to burn. you shake your head, “i hate you.”

“that’s a shame because i love you.”

he says it so quickly, so easily that you do a double take. he doesn’t look scared when your head whips around to face him, no, he looks as smug as he did when he woke up. he raises an eyebrow, “do you want me to say it again?”

you nod, “just want to make sure that i’m not still dreaming.”

he chuckles and for the second time, he utters the words, “i love you.”

there’s a warmth that invades your chest as you climb back into bed and straddle his hips, pressing your lips against his. you breathe out the air you hadn’t known that you were holding in when you respond, “matthew boldy, i love you too.”

#matt boldy #soft thoughts weekend

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over--and-out · 2 years

Note

could u do a eddie munson x male! reader where reader and eddie fall asleep on the couch together on accident n wake up all snuggly... fluff fluff tooth rotting fluff

Fuck You, Simon Belmont

Eddie Munson x Male Reader

Summary: Steve and Robin challenge you to an all-nighter. (More in the ask above.)

Warnings: spoilers for season 4 but not really, Robin teases you about Eddie, fluff fluff fluff, tooth rotting fluff, cuddling (omg so scandalous), language

You and Robin had always been close. You both supported each other and you talked about everything.

And for Robin, everything meant everything.

You're glad nobody else was on the channel you two were using on your walkie talkies because Robin was bringing up all of the worst topics possible. You were walking down the road in the bright morning, agreeing with Eddie that you'd be at his trailer as soon as you woke up.

"Hey, think about it. You could get laid tonight." A scoff escaped you and you shook your head. "As if, Robin. He's probably not even gay."

"Oh, bullshit?" Robin exclaimed with clear amusement in her voice. "Black handkerchief in his back left pocket? Come on, (Y/n)." You laughed softly in exasperation. Before you could respond, the last person you expected had spoken through. Dustin.

"Yeah, I'm so telling Eddie that."

"HENDERSON!" Robin yelled and then both ends went silent. You laughed loudly, knowing that Robin was most likely on her way to bully a child. Shaking your head with a small smile on your face, you made the rest of the way to Eddie's trailer in silence. Before you even knocked on the door, Wayne had opened it with a rushed expression. You quickly moved out of his way as he ran down the stairs, briefly waving at you before telling you to behave.

It was strange but honestly, not the strangest thing you've seen while being at the Munson trailer. It was dead silent which told you one thing; Eddie was still asleep. An evil smirk rose on your face before you set your backpack down on the living room floor and made your way to his room.

As you thought, Eddie was passed smooth out. Oh, he definitely had it coming.

You hooked your fingers, creeping closer to his sleeping form and plotting your method of attack. Quick as lightning, you attacked his sides with your hooked fingers and burst into laughter at the screech that escaped him while he fell off the bed. Before he got back up, you darted out of his room in an effort to find somewhere to hide.

"YOU ARE SO DEAD!" His voice was groggy and scratchy from sleep and you heard him trip over his blanket when he attempted to stand. You managed to hide in a closet just as Eddie slid around the corner in his socks. He ripped the closet door open and let out a wicked laugh as he grabbed you, your attempts to hide evidently futile.

Without having the chance to process anything, Eddie's fingers latched onto your sides and he began ticking you.

"EDDIE!" You burst into laughter, immediately bending forward at your stomach and he just simply laughed evilly at you.

"How's my rib piano?" He said dramatically as he continued his evil plots.

"Eddie stop- I'm gonna pee-" at the mention, he huffs and stops. "You're lucky I don't want to clean that off of my carpet. You gave him a faux offended look and playfully smacked him on the shoulder.

As if the entire interaction never even happened, Eddie turned around and looked at the clock while scratching the back of his head. "What time is it?" You waited for him to comprehend the time of the clock, but he just turned back to you with a blank expression. Your brows furrowed in confusion. "Well?"

"Oh, it's 10:32. I didn't know you wanted it too."

You laughed softly, shaking your head fondly. "Well, the challenge starts at midnight so we better find ways to occupy ourselves."

About a week ago, you and Eddie had made a bet with Steve and Robin. The four of you were in Family Video and Robin had made the remark that she could watch movies literally all day. Steve had said that he could do it longer before Eddie quipped in with, "Not to brag, but I've stayed up for two days straight to watch a marathon of the entire Transformers cartoon."

And then Steve had the bright idea. It would be a bet, and whoever stayed awake the longest would win. There was no prize, but all of you let your inner children come out when you mutually agreed that the winner would have bragging rights and be deemed the coolest. You had all agreed that you'd check in with the other group every hour to make sure they hadn't fallen asleep, and then the bet was set.

So now it was 10:32 in the evening, exactly twelve hours later. You had done a number of things today, including watching Eddie throw food into the air and trying to catch it with his mouth. Each time he caught one he bragged about being the absolute best at it, and that he could beat anybody. But you didn't have the heart to tell him he missed more than scored.

"Hey, I got this new game a couple of weeks ago and I still haven't played it yet. Wanna check it out?" Eddie's arms were crossed and one of his hands was fidgeting with his hair. "Yeah, sure, games are a good idea. What's it called?"

"Castlevania."

You immediately agreed, the game sounding interesting to you and Eddie set up the Famicom so you could play. You had both agreed that one of you could finish a stage, and then the other got to play a stage. It was Wayne's Famicom, but Eddie knew he wouldn't mind if the two played it.

You had quickly found out that it was more entertaining that you had originally imagined, hours upon hours passing and soon it was three in the morning.

Eddie was beginning to get tired, leaned back on the couch with you laying against his side and practically cuddling him. He had said something about it earlier, acting sarcastic and annoyed but in all actuality he didn't mind it at all. He was very fond for you, cared for you very much.

He loved you.

Biting his lip, he focused on the television when his character, Simon Belmont, ran into a boss battle. Or, he thought he was focusing. As much as he tried, all he could think about was your warmth pressed against his side in the cold room.

"You know, I've been having an internal debate." His tone was lighthearted but he annunciated almost every syllable because of how focused he was. "I've been wondering... If I asked you out on a date or some shit, would you hate me." His fingers moved quicker on the controller, anxiety running through him but he tried to keep his confident wall put up.

The longer you stayed silent, the more anxiety he got and it pushed him to be more aggressive in his game.

The boss made the final blow that killed his character and he huffed. "Fuck you." He muttered it under his breath and sighed.

You had still not said anything so his gaze drifted down to you and when it did his heart clenched in his chest.

You had fallen asleep.

That anxiety that he had quickly faded and a soft smile took over his features. His arm wrapped around your shoulders and he hugged you gently, setting the controller down and before he even knew it, he fell asleep.

When you woke up in the afternoon, you almost wanted to go back to sleep. You were warm and comfortable, very much so. Your eyes fluttered shut before opening again and noticing that the television had been turned off and it dawned on you that you fell asleep. Shit, you fell asleep.

You went to sit up to see if Eddie did as well, and you immediately froze. You were looking at him. He was laying on top of you.

You were laying on your back and he was laying on you, his arms wrapped around your waist and his cheek laying on your chest. One of your hands rested on his upper back, the other tangled into his hair. Your heart started beating a hundred miles a minute. You were legitimately cuddling with Eddie Munson. He looked peacefully asleep, his cheek smooshed into your shirt and his breathing was letting out a small whistle. You smiled softly, your face flushing and you threaded your fingers through his hair. The action came easy to you and you repeated it, waiting a minute before speaking.

"Eddie. Eds, wake up." You gently shook him and he groaned before burying his face into your chest, his fingers clenching into the back of your shirt. "Mmm... 'M too tired." His voice was muffled in your clothes, the tone deep and groggy the way it usually is when he speaks for the first time after sleeping.

"Eddie." Your voice was a bit more stern this time and he groaned loudly before tilting his head up and looking at you while giving you the sleepy version of his star smile. "Hey, sweetheart." Your face flushed darkly. Eddie Munson was laying on top of you, hair a mess and voice deep and groggy, smiling at you and calling you 'sweetheart.'

"You're staring." You blinked and his smile softened before he slipped his hands from around your waist and he sat up. It was remarkably colder without his warmth, and you found that you missed it a lot. Your eyes widened as a new thought appeared in your head.

"We lost..." You groaned in defeat before he laughed softly and shook his head, brushing his long brown hair out of his face. "Nah, Steve crashed first. Happened when I was setting up the game. I checked in after I found you asleep and got no response."

Your eyes lit up and you smiled. "So you won?" He shrugged and smirked. "My lips are sealed. I won't tell that you crashed too." You scoffed playfully and shoved him, Eddie giving a dramatic body jerk and throwing himself off the couch. You both laughed before he shot up and planted his hands on the couch next to your hips, looking you in the eyes. "So." He started confidently, smirking before he lowers himself and lays his elbows on the couch. "I had this grand revelation." He moved his hands around to dramatically annunciate each word. "I had it while you were asleep, but-" he paused, smirking. "That doesn't matter because now is just as good of a time to ask as any." Your brows furrowed and the entire time he talked, you were smiling at him softly.

"Well, um..." His hands clamped together nervously before he looks back up at you. "Do you wanna make out?" He asked a big sheepishly and you laughed softly as your face flushed.

"W-What?" You asked shyly. Eddie licked his lips before speaking again.

"Do y'wanna make out? I mean- I was gonna ask you out too, but I figured that's a good place to start." He was smiling softly, and that alone gave you the confidence to speak.

"Eddie Munson, did you just ask me out?"

"I did," he laughed softly. "And you haven't said no yet, so..?"

"I graciously accept your offer." He smiled before propping himself up on his hands, one resting gently on your waist before he kissed you.

#eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things eddie #fanfic #eddie munson x male reader #fluff #tooth rotting fluff #sleepy tiem with eddie #robin buckley #steve harrington #dustin henderson

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forever-rogue · 2 years

Note

Hey, l really enjoy your fics!

Maybe this is a weird request but I love sick fics! Could you do a tasm!peter x reader where reader gets carsick?

Even if you don’t do the request, thank you so much for all your other writing!

AN | So I misread this and made it just sick!reader, but I hope y’all done mind 🥺 Enjoy ❤️

Pairing | TASM!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

Warnings | None

Word Count | 1.8k

Masterlist | Main | Peter

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You felt like you were on death’s doorstep from the moment you opened your eyes and were hit with the blinding light of the afternoon sun. Oh no. You had overslept. Not only had you slept all of the alarms you’d set, you were sick. That much was obvious from the burning in your throat, your sore body, and the raging headache. Today was most decidedly not going to be a beautiful day. The only good thing was that you didn’t have to work today and your missed classes would be easy enough to catch up on.

“Ugh,” you groaned as you rubbed at your sleepy eyes, sitting back down on the bed. Your energy was practically nonexistent and you couldn’t even think straight. Your phone was sitting on the nightstand, so you grabbed it and saw that you had a lot of notifications - missed calls from a couple of friends that were in your classes, as well as texts wondering where you were. The majority though, not surprisingly, were from your boyfriend. See one Peter Parker. Judging from his texts, you were honestly surprised he hadn’t come over and broken down your door to make sure you were still alive.

You decided to quickly call him to let him know everything was okay before going back to bed and attempting to sleep this all off. It rang just once before he picked up with a worried, “hello?”

“Hi Petey,” your voice sounded as awful as you felt, all scratchy and croaky. You could practically feel him cringing on the other end of the line, “‘m sick. I just woke up.”

“Babe,” he sighed lightly, already mentally planning on how he was going to take care of you and make you feel better, “I was so worried. But - and no offense, light and love of my life - you sound terrible. I’ll be over soon to-”

“Peter no-”

“Peter yes.”

“Honey boy,” you laughed lightly…before breaking into a small coughing fit. You held the phone away from your face and sighed softly at yourself, “I’m okay-”

“You’re anything but okay. It sounded like you just coughed up a lung!”

“Fine,” you nodded despite the fact that he couldn’t see you, “but I will be okay. Please don’t worry about me. Besides, I don’t want you to come over and get sick too. We shouldn’t both be suffering! A few days apart and I’ll be back to normal.”

You knew, deep down, that he wouldn’t take no for an answer. That was not his style; he had so many good qualities, stubbornness among them. Sometimes it was hard to tell if that was a good or bad trait. You were flattered though that he was willing to risk himself getting sick in order to take care of you. You were doubtful about a lot of things, but his love was never one of them.

“You realize that isn’t going to stop me, right?” you could hear the smug little smile on his face, “has it ever worked in the past?”

“Not once,” you admitted softly, “what if you come and I don’t let you in?”

“I have a key.” Oh yeah.

“Well…”

“You don’t think I could lock pick? Get in through a window? Literally anything?” he sounded so pleased and you couldn’t help but playfully groan at him, “nothing you could say or do is going to keep me from coming to see you. So…what kind of soup do you want? Chicken noodle, tomato, something else?”

“Peter,” you loved this man; you really really did. You paused for a moment and grabbed your water bottle and took a long drink to soothe your burning throat, “butternut squash, please. Maybe some ginger ale…and maybe some fresh fruit or something.”

“There’s my girl,” he relaxed slightly at the fact that you were going to let him take care of you, “do you have tea? Tissues? Cold and cough medicine?”

“No, no, and no,” you answered with a pitiful little laugh, “I am wholly unprepared for anything and everything. You don’t have to get all of that for me. I’ll be okay without it.”

“Nonsense,” he tutted softly, “I’ll get everything and be over soon, okay? Just try and relax for now, maybe get some rest? I can help with everything else once I’m there.”

“Thank you,” you whispered softly, “I love you, Peter. So much.”

“I love you too,” he promised sweetly, “see you soon, baby.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You were out like a light and back to sleep within minutes of hanging up with Peter. When you woke up to the noise of him stumbling into your apartment, you startled awake but quickly relaxed when you realized it was him. Leaving it to Spider-Man to fumble around like a fool. Wrapping your big blanket around your frame, you padded into the kitchen where you found him unpacking everything he’d gotten. To say he went overboard was an understatement. There were lots of soups, snacks, teas, and various cold medicines to last you a lifetime.

“Petey,” you croaked and his attention snapped to you. A big smile spread across his features, wavering only when he saw the pallor of your skin and how miserable you looked. You felt just about as good, “hi.”

“Hi,” he stopped what he was doing, in front of you within moments and wrapped his arms around you in a tight hug. You let yourself meld into his body, letting him dwarf you, “how are you feeling?”

“About as good as I look,” you said with a sheepish smile, “thank you for coming, despite me telling you not to come.”

“When have I ever listened to you?” there was a teasing glint in his big brown eyes as you rolled your own dramatically.

“It wouldn’t hurt for you to start Peter Parker,” he took your hand and started pulling you towards your bedroom, “what’re you doing?”

“First things first,” he stated simply, opening the door to your ensuite bathroom, “you’re taking a bath-”

“Are you saying I stink?” you stuck your lower lip out in a pout as he laughed and turned on the tap to just the warmth you liked.

“I’m not saying that,” he insisted, pouring in some of your bubble bath, “I just think it would help you feel better. But…now that you mention it, you don’t smell…the freshest. Hey - ow!”

He was laughing despite his feigned hurt as you lightly smacked his chest. You were well aware of the fact that you probably looked incredibly pathetic as you stood there, pouty and bundled up, “can’t help it. ‘m sick, Petey.”

“I’m well aware baby,” he stuck a hand into the water to make sure it wasn’t scalding before making a small sound of content. Gentle hands reached for the duvet around you, peeling it from your body as he set it down. You shivered at the loss of warmth, but he made quick work of closing you closer to him and gently helping you out of your pajamas. His touch was so soft and reverent that it almost made you want to cry; you were already in your own feelings with being sick, but there was something about Peter’s quiet love that was about to push you over the edge.

“C’mere,” he motioned for you to lift your arms over your head and he pulled your shirt off and tossed it to the side. He’d worry about different clothes and blankets later. He reached for the waistband of your bottoms, causing you to hold onto him for balance as he slid them down your legs and you kicked them off. His hand went to yours as he helped you into the warm bath, making sure you weren’t going to slip. The last thing either of you needed was a spontaneous trip to the emergency room. You settled in and let out a small, content sigh, “better?”

“Much,” he plopped down on the floor next to you, flicking a few of the lavender scented bubbles at you. You leaned on the edge of the tub and reached over to touch his face. You cupped his cheek before gently stroking your thumb over it. You really wanted to pull him in for a kiss, but also didn’t want to kiss him with what you were sure was horrible breath, and potentially get him sicker. He must have read your mind because he took your hand and pressed a gentle kiss to your knuckles, “thank you for coming. You’re my hero.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” he grinned from ear to ear as a light flush of pink rose up in his cheeks. He leaned in, his face inches from yours, “come on, you know you want to.”

“Don’t wanna get you sick.”

“Too late for that.”

“Bad breath.”

“I’ve dealt with worse,” he didn’t wait for you to argue again before pressing a soft kiss to your lips. You practically melted at the feeling, wishing the moment never had to end. But your congestion made you short of breath and you were pulling back much sooner than you would have liked, “not even that stinky.”

“Thanks,” you snorted in amusement, “love you, Petey.”

“Love you more,” he booped your nose before reaching for your shampoo, “lemme help you and then when you’re all clean, you can take a nap while I make you something to eat.”

“You’re really going to stay?” your eyes were so wide and innocent that he couldn’t help but lean in and steal a few more kisses.

“You didn’t think I was just going to come by and drop stuff and then head out?” Of course you didn’t. He would never, but you still wanted to give him a last out. You shook your head, “well, hate to break it to you, but I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me until you’re better.”

“I hope I’m stuck with you forever.”

“Well that too,” he insisted softly, “that’s always a given.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he pressed tender kisses all over your fast, “always.”

#tasm!peter #peter parker x reader #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker x you #andrew garfield x reader #andrew garfield x you #andrew garfield

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toomuchracket · 1 year

Note

omg can we have you looking after flatmate matty when he’s sick?? maybe bringing him cold medicine and helping him shower and giving lots of extra cuddles🥺

so its like mid-morning you're like up and dotting around the flat and you're kind of concerned because matty still isn't up yet (this is before you're together btw). like you know he wakes up later the night after a show but this is pushing it. and you're hesitant to go into his room in case there's someone with him, but every time you've gone past it's either been him snoring or just total silence, so you figure he's alone. you knock and open the door slightly, and poke your head round to see matty wrapped in the duvet SHIVERING despite the heating being on. you go over and he's like "babe i really really don't feel well" and his voice is all scratchy, and he's SWEATING. and you feel his forehead and he's burning up so you get him up and like manoeuvre him into the bathroom (he's so weak he can't stand by himself) to the shower to try and shift his fever. and even ill matty's still joking like "you know, i didn't picture this being the scenario in which we first showered together, but ok" and you pointedly ignore the fact he's just admitted to thinking about you and him in the shower together and just try and get him undressed in the most dignified way you can. and you're like "if you can face away from me i can hold you up without you having to compromise your modesty. i'll have to see your bare arse but that's nothing new" and matty's like "annoying that you've seen my bum and i haven't seen yours" and you're like "stop thinking about me naked and focus on feeling better" and he's like "those two things correlate it's fine" and you're like "jesus christ" but internally you're all !!!!!!! and the heat of the shower seems to soften the congestion in his chest so he's coughing this like awful awful cough and all you can really do is rub his back while holding him upright and doing your best not to look at him naked (but because he's so ill your overwhelming feeling is concern, not lust, so you're fine). anyway, the shower seems to revitalise him a little bit, so you leave matty to dry off and get dressed in his room and run to make him a cup of tea and get some soluble paracetamol. he has a bit of a tantrum about the latter, and won't force himself to drink it unless you sit and cuddle him afterwards to make him feel better (which melts your heart), so you end up sitting on matty's bed with his head in your lap, softly blow-drying his hair (so his cold doesn't get worse) while you watch my neighbor totoro (aka the best film of all time if u wanna feel better). when matty starts to fall asleep, you manoeuvre him onto the pillows and let him nap, while you go to the kitchen and start to reheat a batch of chicken noodle soup you'd made and frozen especially for situations like these. forty minutes later, though, you hear matty literally crying out your name and run back in a panic. and you're like "what's wrong sweetheart?" and he's actually crying a little bit holding your hand like "woke up and you weren't next to me" and you have to hold onto the bedframe to stop yourself keeling over at how heart-aching that statement is before you say "i'm sorry, babe, i was just getting you some soup. give me 2 minutes and i'll bring it to you". and matty pouts and says "promise you'll only be gone for 2 minutes?" and you're like "yes, i promise" and he reluctantly lets you go and get it. and then when you come back he has the soup then he's like "can you just please stay and cuddle me for the rest of the day?" and you're like "ok. but if i get ill, healy..." and matty's like "if you get ill, i'll take care of you. i'll always take care of you" and then he falls asleep on you again, leaving you sitting there heart fluttering lol <3

#mads answers asks #mads muses #matty asks #fluff asks #flatmate!matty

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emoprincey · 1 year

Note

Trick or treat!

'Headaches' with Loceit or Anxceit?

It’s been a literal month, but I finally had some free time and got around to finishing this drabble (is it still a drabble if it’s over 1000 words? Unclear). I flipped a coin, and it landed on heads, which means fluff! This is more like hurt/comfort I guess, but the ending is nice and fluffy I think. I decided to go with some platonic anxceit for this one, hope you enjoy!

Word count: 1174

Writing taglist: @iclaimedtobethebetterbard

All Virgil wanted was to be left alone. Free to curl up in bed with blankets wrapped around his shoulders, trying to ignore how the light from his phone made the banging in his head thrum even harder.

So, naturally, that was when someone knocked on his door, the sound piercing his skull.

Pulling the blankets tighter around himself, Virgil ignored it, slipping his headphones over his ears to block out any further sound.

But then the knocking came again, loud enough that he even heard it through his headphones, and he looked up.

“What?” he snapped, glaring at the door. He immediately regretted the harshness of his tone, because if Patton was outside that door, he would have been upset at being snapped at. But he needn’t have worried, because the man who walked through his door was someone Virgil couldn’t care less about the feelings of. Totally.

He hissed, but Janus didn’t seem bothered, standing in the doorway with a bowl clasped in his hands.

“Good evening to you too, Virgil,” Janus said, walking into the room as if how Virgil had greeted him could somehow be considered an invitation.

“What do you want?” Virgil muttered, his voice low and rumbling in his chest, though the scratchiness of his throat from not talking or drinking all day meant it didn’t come out as threatening as he would’ve liked.

“Nobody’s seen you all day,” Janus said smoothly. “Patton was starting to get worried.”

It was strange, Virgil thought, to be able to tell so easily when the literal embodiment of deceit was lying. He didn’t know if it was the way Janus’ eyes flicked to the side for just a second, or something about his tone, but Virgil could always tell.

He didn’t doubt that Patton was worried, because even if Virgil woke up at 3pm he still went downstairs to grab a packet of pop tarts when he awoke. But Janus was definitely hiding something.

“What’s in the bowl?” Virgil asked, instead of pursuing that subject.

“Soup,” Janus said plainly.

Virgil scoffed. “What, so you came to disturb me in my room, and now you’re going to eat your dinner in here? Piss off.”

Janus looked at Virgil like he’d just said the world was flat (which he had done, once, just to see Logan’s reaction. It was worth it).

“It’s for you,” Janus said, with an eyebrow raised.

Virgil squinted at the bowl. He would’ve thought that Janus would be more likely to bring him a bowl of cement than soup, but he could smell the scent of his favourite chicken soup wafting from it – creamy and completely smooth, with no vegetables added for unpleasant surprise textures.

But then, Janus was deceit. Even a gift that seemed harmless could turn out to be a trap coming from him.

After a few moments, Janus rolled his eyes. “You don’t have to look so suspicious. If I wanted to poison you, I wouldn’t be this obvious about it.”

A few years ago, that might have made Virgil chuckle, but all he did was glare as Janus put the bowl down on his bedside table.

“What are you doing here?” Virgil asked.

“I could ask the same thing of you,” Janus said.

Virgil looked incredulously at him. “It’s my room.”

“Right,” said Janus. “But you don’t usually stay in here all day, do you?”

“What would you know about what I ‘usually’ do?” Virgil asked, trying to keep the bitterness out of his tone.

“Virgil,” Janus chided, something soft in his tone that Virgil didn’t dare put a name to – all he knew was that if he heard that tone directed at him, it would cut through every defence he’d put up against Janus with ease.

“I’m fine, ok?” He grumbled, not meeting Janus’ eyes. “I just have a headache. It happens when I...”

He paused, but Janus already seemed to have caught on.

“When you what?” Janus prompted.

Virgil realised he’d backed himself into a corner. Janus had done this so many times, when he’d still cared at all about Virgil’s wellbeing.

“When I don’t sleep for a few days,” he admitted.

Virgil wasn’t sure what he expected. Maybe for Janus to sneer. In the old days, Janus might have chided him for staying up so much.

But instead, he felt the mattress sink down next to him, and he looked up to see Janus perching on the edge of his bed.

“Have some,” Janus said gently, gesturing to the soup.

Virgil looked cautiously at him, but he slowly pulled the bowl onto his lap and took a steaming spoonful. It tasted good, warm and smooth and full of memories of being cared for.

“Why haven’t you been sleeping?” Janus asked, looking out across the room.

“Why do you care?” Virgil countered, but there wasn’t much bite to his words anymore. Tasting the soup had awakened a sense of just how hungry he was, and after a moment he decided to neglect the spoon, sipping the soup from the edge of the bowl.

“Virgil...” Janus said softly, and that one word was filled with so much warmth and fondness that it broke down Virgil’s remaining walls.

“It’s just...” Virgil murmured. “Nightmares. It’s hard even trying to get to sleep when I know they’re waiting for me the second I close my eyes, then I just wake up more tired than I was before. It’s easier for me to sleep when there’s other people around, makes me feel safer or some shit.” He shrugged. “I normally nap in the living room, but I haven’t done that much recently.”

“Because of me?” Janus hazarded.

Virgil stayed silent, staring into the half-finished bowl of soup. When Janus had started to spend more time in the light sides’ common room, Virgil had stayed in his own room more and more in the hopes to avoid him, but admitting that while Janus was speaking so gently to him, gazing at him with that soft look in his eyes... well, it just seemed needlessly cruel.

Janus seemed to get the message anyway, because he stood abruptly, brushing off the front of his smart trousers as if just five minutes of sitting on Virgil’s bed could have contaminated them.

“Well, drink up, then,” he said, his tone suddenly closed off, far too passive to be genuine. “And then try to get some sleep.”

“Wait, Janus,” Virgil blurted, grabbing hold of his sleeve before he knew what he was doing.

Janus tilted his head, looking curiously down at where Virgil’s hand gripped the cuff of his shirt.

Virgil swallowed. “Stay?” he implored, his breath slightly shaky.

Janus’ shoulders stiffened, and for a moment Virgil was afraid that he’d made some kind of horrible mistake, that Janus would shake him off and laugh at him. But then, slowly, the tension seeped away as Janus turned around, and when Virgil met his eyes, he could swear he saw something melting there.

“Of course,” Janus said softly, taking Virgil’s hand in his own. “Always.”

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #janus sanders #ts virgil #ts janus #anxceit #platonic anxceit

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adreamareads · 3 months

Text

WIP Wednesday

I woke up to some tags and I got some last week or on Sunday that I didn't take so here's a little bit that I can share. I'm sorry I don't have 20+ WIPs and I'm not ready to publish every other week but there are enough snippets in the one I do have that I can share a bit here and there and not spoil the whole thing.

Anyway thanks for the tags @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @onthewaytosomewhere ! Paying it forward with some tags for whatever you want to share, on whatever day(s). @inexplicablymine @cha-melodius @xthelastknownsurvivorx @typicalopposite and OPEN TAG AS ALWAYS, YES THIS MEANS YOU

Alex reluctantly pushes the covers down. “The part where we get dressed is my least favourite part of mornings,” he grumbles. Henry’s inclined to agree, but he also gets out of bed, pulling on a pair of joggers and a long-sleeve tee. When he realises his ankles are still exposed, he rolls his eyes at himself, and switches to a pair of his own, tossing Alex the ones he’d just taken off. “Why do I always end up wearing your trousers first?” he grumbles. “They’re too short on me.” “Not caffeinated enough to complain about you callin’ me short,” Alex grumbles, but takes the bottoms and puts them on. Henry’s dressed first, at least enough to bring David on his morning walk, so he takes the opportunity to start a quick cup of coffee for Alex. They’d somehow ended up with several coffeemakers – “for different moods,” Alex had explained, and also they each take a different amount of time. This morning, Henry presses the buttons on the single-serving coffee machine, letting it drip into a disposable cup. He can wait for his own tea; he enjoys it but he doesn’t crave the caffeine in the mornings the way Alex does. By the time Alex comes downstairs, which is only a few minutes later, Henry has a steaming cup of cinnamon coffee for Alex, and David is waiting patiently with the lead clipped to his collar. “I didn’t mean to make y’all wait!” Alex pouts, taking the coffee from Henry. “Sorry, I couldn’t find a shirt that I wanted to wear. The one I originally picked out was stiff and scratchy, and then I couldn’t find one soft enough…” “We’re literally just going out for a bit,” Henry says wearily. “Then we’re going to come back here, shower, and put on real clothes.” “I know,” Alex says, a tinge of guilt in his voice. “I’m sorry, baby.” “It’s fine,” Henry says, and it is. Alex makes it difficult to stay cross with him even when it’s something big, and this certainly isn’t. “Let’s go?” “Love you,” Alex says, and Henry isn’t sure if he’s talking to the coffee or to him, but doesn’t ask.

#rwrb #red white and royal blue #rwrb fic #adreama writes #firstprince #rwrb fanfic

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atsadi-shenanigans · 4 months

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Feeding Alligators 17 - Panties!

You and Gale chat about linguistics. Astarion has elf ears and thus, elf hearing. Ruh-roh.

Rated M for language and violence. Still not for smut, because when I said this was a slow burn, I meant it and also Eleanor is demisexual, so does not compute for her (yet).

On AO3.

You don’t make it much further before calling quits. Between your horror vomiting, Lae’zel’s brush with acid, and the rest of the party being generally wrung out from killing a wholeass owlbear, y’all are beat.

Camp is in a pretty, little clearing just off the trail. The grass is soft—and joyously free of ticks—with patches of pretty, yellow flowers. It’s a clear night; the moon is a great, big silver plate, and the spray of unfamiliar stars overhead shine bright and crystalline.

While Lae’zel scrapes the brains out of the skull of the owlbear, the others hunker down for a good and proper soup. It’s mostly vegetables, with sliced sausages, and you’re so, so fucking thankful Gale kept spices in his magical go bag. More than salt and pepper, too. You’re picking up traces of chili powder, paprika, and even a taste of cumin, you think. Not bad at all.

After your meal, y’all sit around for a bit. Astarion returns from scouting and takes his bowl back to his tent. Mr. Fancypants doesn’t like eating with commoners. It’s the first night everyone’s free, not working on spells or meditating or sulking alone. But the mood is still heavy and subdued.

Fucking cults will do that.

You wonder if your group’d listen to White people ghost stories—the Cherokee ones you do not tell at night out in the open.

You kick back and stare at the red line dancing around the edges of the embers.

Your stomach is still sore; throat still scratchy. And your headache is a constant grind. Must be the brainworm chewing on your gray-meats. The others hide their own discomfort pretty good—though that might just be the whole “not human” thing. Except Gale is human. Does he have wizard ibuprofen?

You stare into the fire some more and resist the urge to palm your right eye and press until you see sparkles.

The next thing you know, everyone has moved around the fire.

You sit up. Look around. Shadowheart and Lae’zel are arguing over the importance of keeping trophies (which Shadowheart dismisses as barbaric nonsense). Astarion is now standing outside his tent with a book propped open on one arm. You literally blinked and they all moved. What the fu—

“Are you alright?” Gale says. He was opposite you on the whole other side of the fire. Now he leans on the same fallen log you rest against with his own book sitting in his lap.

“I,” you say. You lost time. You completely lost, at minimum, several minutes. You try to breathe normal, instead of panting like a sick dog. “Yeah. I just…zoned out pretty good right there.”

Gale frowns. “’Zone?’ How would you use area as a verb?”

God, your head hurts.

You flap a hand. “Means I wasn’t paying attention, is all. D’you, you got anything for a headache? The stress has got my neck wound so tight it could crack a walnut.”

“Mmm, I don’t think so. Shadowheart may have an easier time of it. Are you…?”

He pauses. There’s more than confusion etched into his brow. It looks suspiciously like concern.

“Are you having any other symptoms?” he says in a low voice.

You look at him until it clicks. The whole face melting thing. All the stuff he’s described.

“No, no,” you say. “I don’t think it’s any of that. I woke up with this back on the butthole—I mean, the nautiloid.”

But his eyebrows have already shot up to his hairline. “The what? I’m not sure that translated accurately.”

Oh shit.

You groan. “No, it probably did. It’s what I been calling the nautiloid, before I learned its name. The doors on there looked like, well, buttholes. So I just went with it.”

His mouth opens. No words come out. You’ve shocked Mr. Verbose into silence. You almost give yourself a high five.

“I named all you’uns,” you continue, a bit more of Uncle Randy’s vernacular slipping in. It feels nice, letting your tongue slide back into that cadence. Feels like relaxing. Once you’d moved away, you tried to soften your country accent, fold it up into neat, shortened northern.

“I can only hope it was more sophisticated than your naming convention for the ship,” Gale says.

“You were mumu.” You wait. His expression doesn’t change, so the dirt potion must not’ve had a decent replacement for that. So you explain it, and by the end, he’s got a wry sort of smile.

“I can state with full confidence I’ve been called much worse,” Gale says. “Though it is a slight blow to my ego that I couldn’t impress any of my more noteworthy traits over my wardrobe.”

“It was either that or mullet.”

Having explained that, he proceeds to quiz you on the others, stumbling only over “goth.” But educated on that, he agrees with you on all counts.

“We’d been calling you Tav,” he says. At your blank face, “It’s a name used for orphans or someone whose name isn’t known, usually due to illness or injury. Quite common.”

Tav. It’s…their version of Jane Doe?

Then Gale’s face twists up. You can’t tell if it’s some flavor of perplexed, or if there’s a hint of amusement around his eyes. “Though I am curious how you’d gotten a glimpse at Astarion’s pants?”

You stare. Twist to find Astarion lounging on a nest of pillows he’s somehow managed to collect—he stole them from the tieflings, didn’t he.

“He’s wearing them?” you say and gesture with your thumb.

Gale’s whole face opens in surprise (relief?). “Ah! Another translation quirk. We call the outer garments trousers. The inner clothing is called pants, or smallclothes.”

You sit there. He’s definitely amused, now. Because you’ve been calling Astarion ‘Fancy Underwear.’ Good god. You’re so glad you figured that one out with Gale.

“Right,” you say. Your face definitely doesn’t feel warm. Not at all.

“Apologies for the distraction, and back to your headache. So you have no other symptoms.”

“I mean.” You gesture to your face, which as far as you can tell by touch is still your face. Goddamn, you haven’t had a proper bath in days. At least y’all are camped next to a stream; you can keep on dunking yourself as best you can. Still, no moisturizer or shampoo. Your elbows are getting rough.

“It’s all rather odd,” Gale says. “We should be halfway through the gestational process, yet none of us—aside from possibly you—have shown any sign of it. Either your being from a different plane has made you more susceptible, or our own physiology has shielded the rest of us. But Lae’zel isn’t a local, either, and even you aren’t following the standard process, as I understand it.”

He studies you a long moment. His lips press thin. But then he sighs and shakes his head.

“No, I don’t think you alone are going through the melt-change-condition.” You catch the vague shape of the actual word he uses behind the magical translation, but can’t suss it out. “I think it safe to assume this is merely the stress from all of this. I would suggest you find a way to relax, but, well.”

Lae’zel has finished both her scraping and her argument. She settles down next to a big, stone wheel that starts to spin as her foot taps a pedal. You watch, curiously, until she lifts her brains-scraping knife and you realize that sumbitch is a fucking grinder.

The noise shoots right through your eyeball to lodge deep in your aching brain.

“Nice talk, Gale, I’m getting out of here,” you say.

He winces next to you. Nods. “I’ll retire to my tent and see if I can’t come up with something in my stores to help with that ache of yours. In your head. That you mentioned.”

He rolls to his feet super spry for someone with gray streaks in his hair. He gives a little bow with his head, which you return with a nod as you make your way to the opposite side of the camp from Lae’zel.

Which happens to be where Astarion has set himself up for the night. Almost like he didn’t want to be around someone scooping out a dead owlbear head.

He glances up as you near. Watches you sink down into the grass nearby. You pause for a moment, considering, and flop onto your back in a full sprawl beneath the stars.

You don’t say anything. Neither does he, for a long moment. He flips a page. The pounding in your brain begins to unclench. Turns another page.

“So,” he says in a fucking tone.

“Oh god,” you say preemptively.

“You think my pants are fancy?”

Fucking elf ears. Of course he fucking heard you. Of fucking course.

You cover your face with one arm. “Would you stop if I said it was a mistranslation and I meant your trousers?”

“Whyever would I do that?”

Whyever would he. The man is a fucking menace.

Thing is, you’ve been so polite and quiet this whole time (until today, really). But Mother and the other leadership saw something in you, even as a child. And they weren’t exactly wrong about it (just the part where it was bad bad sinful bad the devil shame shame bad).

You turn to squint at him through the throbbing in your skull. “Are they?”

“Are what, dear?”

“Your underwear. Are they fancy?”

Bitch doesn’t know who he’s dealing with. He wants to give some, he better be able to take some.

You almost miss his hesitation, it’s so fast. Then his malicious smirk is back on and he snaps his book shut. Spins to face you. “They are, actually. I would ask the same of you, but I’m rather sure you’re not wearing any.”

“Nope,” you say, popping the “p” and waggling your legs back and forth in the grass. Outbrazen that, chucklefuck.

His mask doesn’t even crack. Not a flinch, not a micro expression; the man is stone cold fucking with you. “Are those not a norm in your realm, either?”

“Oh, they are, I just didn’t have them on me when I got grabbed.” Let him wonder about that. Dare him to fucking ask. The reason is you were asleep, but he doesn’t know that. “Unless we find some kinda clothing store soon, I think I’m gonna have to make some myself.”

He leans forward to rest an elbow on his bent knee. “I could help you with that, you know.”

You…can’t tell if he’s being serious.

“I ain’t wearing your drawers, fancy man. You only got the one pair anyway, unless you’re walk around with spares in your pockets.”

To this, he grimaces. “I didn’t need the reminder. All the material we’ve come across has been roughspun, mildewed, or both. Not a scrap of silk to be seen anywhere.”

You turn your head to frown at him for a long moment. Because yeah, that tracks. Of course this floof-haired, ridiculous city man wears silk drawers. You should not be so surprised at this. But also…

“You expecting to find you some silk out here in the boonies?” you say.

Now it’s his turn to frown. You watch his lips form the word “boonies.”

“Outside the city,” you say. “Back woods, back water, the sticks, wilderness, middle of fucking nowhere.”

“Hmm. No, I suppose I didn’t. People travel through here, but not the sort to own any apparel worth salvaging, would they? No, you’re correct.”

You say nothing to that. Content to lie beneath the moon and let the conversation about y’all’s panties die a quiet, natural death.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch his head tilt. He’s watching you.

“That was a clever little plan, back there,” he says after a moment. “I dare say, you thought further ahead than any of the others regarding those cultists. And regarding how to deal with them. It was very clean—efficient, even if their deaths were very much not. It’s a shame you had to leave us so quickly back in that den.”

To vomit.

You’re not gonna out-edgey the edgelord here. Simpler to go for the boring answers. “Ain’t used to seeing something like that. Horror is a normal response to people getting torn up back where I come from.”

“Mmm. Sounds terribly dull. And yet, for someone so inexperienced,” he makes some gesture that either their version of air quotes or him just being a theater kid, “you came to that conclusion quickly and you saw it through. Against some objections, even.”

Objections from half of them. Or only Gale, really, as the only part Lae’zel hadn’t liked was the sneak factor. She seemed pleased as punch when then owlbear turned on y’all and she got to hack it to pieces.

And Gale got over it all well enough to come hang out with you at camp.

These fucking people.

And goddamnit, you’re fitting in.

You find him with his chin propped up, his gaze fixed on you.

“I have never, in my life, had to deal with this kinda shit before,” you say. “I’m just…getting ideas as we go along and trying not to die.”

“Quite vicious ideas.”

Your neck is hot. You turn away, point your face at the sky as if the cold starlight will chill the head building over your cheeks.

He’s not wrong. You have a ruthless streak, you know. Part of your whole healing process was recognizing and accepting that part of yourself. And you had. And now, you wonder if that is part of the problem. If you hadn’t just gone down into your mental basement to feed the monsters there, but you’d pulled up that cellar door and leapt in yourself.

You feel guilt, for sure. But you already know you’d do it again. You’d put up that ruthless streak in a shoebox and set it up on a tall shelf in a back closet in your brain. But now you went and you opened that up, and it’s working for you. It’s a tool and a weapon, and it might be your best shot at surviving all this.

“Your ideas got you out of that crash,” Astarion says. “They kept you with all of us, saved you from that bandit, and effectively took control of our little band of miscreants.”

“What? I’m not—”

You didn’t take control. Did you? They went along with one horrible idea. Or two, actually, with Kahga. Except there were several ideas involved in that—

You’re not the leader.

You’re not.

“And even now, that mind of yours is plotting out our continued survival, isn’t it?” he says. “You might be a useful person to know.”

“Well thank you, darlin,’” you drawl.

He makes a sound that forces your attention back to him. You catch his eyebrows raised, eyes round. The laugh is more of a snort, and he seems as surprised at it as he does at…whatever caused it.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

“That’s just a saying,” you start.

But he’s already waving it off. “Not to worry. I believe I’ll leave you to your little respite away from that cacophony. Take a walk and get some air, myself.”

Oh shit, you weirded him out. It’s just a phrase. Old, southern ladies you’ve never met call you “sugar” and “honey” all the time.

He stands. Sweeps the wrinkles out of his clothes—mostly his silly, frilly shirt. Then he gives you some ridiculous, over-the-top, one-arm-in-the-air courtly bow. “Do sleep tight, darling.”

He wanders off. The wind hisses in the trees. Lae’zel’s grinder screeches like a thousand souls of the damned, and your brain worm nibbles contentedly at a piece of your pre-frontal cortex.

“Jesus christ,” you say and roll over to lie face down in the grass.

#baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #bg3 #fanfic #astarion #astarion x tav #it's a goddamn isekai #i'm not sorry #no betas we die like men #feeding alligators fic #tavstarion #plus size tav #demisexual tav

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marmotsomsierost · 3 months

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I have been sick since fuckin. What day. The fuckin 16th of december is when this bullshit started. It is JANUARY FUCKIN FIFTH. That saturday i woke up, coughed (not super unusual with this persistent stupid postnasal drip crap) so hard i puked all of the little i had in my stomach out (super unusual) and had a scratchy throat for the rest of the day. Didn't think anything of it. Was feeling kind of but not really better towards evening. Then, decorating the tree, cough drop in mouth, i go to fling a string of lights up and inhale said cough drop, which lodges just below my thyroid.

I do not die. The dog and the husband are not convinced. I use actual words to mention the not dying thing. They are...slightly more convinced.

Sunday i wake up with sensation in throat, not like pain, not raw, just like...there's something there that isn't normally there. Have minor cough and very raspy voice. Sinuses mostly clear. I wake up on the 20th and have literally no voice. I need my voice to be able to triage people. I call out sick. I go back the next day, it's fine. Still little cough, mostly clear sinuses, just suddenly a tenor. This continues until the 25th.

Dinner on christmas i find annoying to eat. It's like my throat has decided it's full and the stomach goes 'eh okay sure let's stop' in weird agreement. I go to work the next day.

I have turned into the crotchety old man you never see out of scooterdress with snus in his lip and a suspicious possibly-sentient coffee mug in one hand and the other hand tucked into the front of his bibbed pants. Basically Bjørn Sundquist. Anyway.

I now have a coughing wheezy rasp where by the end of the night i will cough all the air out of my lungs, die, gasp in air, cough that out, die again, then am able to breathe again. Unfortunately not shiny and chrome. Still. I call out the next morning, have a video visit, get some antibiotics and an inhaler, we're good to go right.

Wrong. Turns out pretending really really hard that you don't have a fever does not actually get rid of said fever. I call out again. I'm off work the next three days anyway, that gives me a nice block of time to finish my antibiotics and get back to normal.

There's no tech for the two days before new year's day so when i show up despite sounding like a zombie everyone is all 'oh thank god you're here' and 'we have a tech?? We have TWO TECHS?? Yeah!' But about four hours in i keep getting the concerned face and side-eye of concern and avaunt foul beast from the rest of the ED. The doctor tells me i sound worse than half of the patients. The PA listens to my lungs and says something like 'wow with that cough i figured your lungs would be shit but they're actually really clear'. The loud triage nurse says 'well hell marmot's been coughing for weeks and she's still here' loudly several times in earshot of patients whose chief complaint is 'cough since this morning' and the night shift triage nurse tells the charge nurse that i can stay in the back, he wants to keep the front plague-free.

I almost call out yesterday. I had the phone in my hand but an alert went out that the evening tech called out and wednesday was a shitshow so i was like okay, i'm not that bad, i'll go in.

I should have called out. I have alarms set for when to take the sudafed and the cough medicine and the inhaler because time is fake at the best of times and this ain't the best of times. I survive to the end of the shift. I blow my nose before i leave and my ears pop- the right clears fast, the left clears by the time i get home.

I'm off today. Cough is demonstrably better in frequency if nothing else, even without regular doses of medicine. I get home from dropping samus at the vet (she's fine) and blow my nose again, and ears pop. Left ear won't clear. It doesn't hurt but it is driving me absolutely batshit insane. It's like juuuust on the edge of fucking with my equilibrium. I've tried gum. Decongestant. Antihistamines. Soak in hot bath in our dwarf-ass tub as best i can. Am about to try broiling in a shower.

I'm so tired of this crap. Where is bones with a magic lung-fixing ear-clearing pill when you need him.

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married2myphone · 2 years

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Chapter Eight: The Bake Sale

Life As The Avengers' Housekeeper

Pairings: Platonic! Avengers x Female Reader

Tags & Warnings: humour, fluff

Chapter Summary: Peter's Decathlon team doesn't have enough funding, so they do a bake sale for their school. Aunt May was supposed to make all the food for Peter's stall, but falls sick at the last second. Y/n comes in to save the day and even helps Peter with his Flash problem.

A/n: Yay, I'm no longer shadowbanned

Word Count: 6.5k

Tag List: @olsensnpm, @natasha-belova, @caroldanvers2, @matchat3a, @venomsvl, @glxwingrxse, @reallysparklychaos

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Y/n let out a breath as she sat down on the couch and looked at the space around her. For once, it was quiet. Like, eerily quiet.

It was a Wednesday, and everyone was either out on a mission, or living their regular lives. After an incredibly hectic week, Y/n welcomed the silence. She felt like a single mom whose kids just attended school for the first time, and she finally had the house to herself after four years of having no time to rest.

She’s been wishing for it for months now, but now that it was here… What was she supposed to do now? The entire compound was clean, as in, the entire compound. Y/n got a bit bored. But there was nothing to do now, and Y/n couldn’t exactly hang out with anyone because, well, all her friends were out.

Maybe she could just stay in bed all day and watch trash reality tv. That’s what people did when they had time off, right? But not Y/n. Y/n was someone who was always moving and was always doing something at every second of the day. She’s tried the whole staying in bed all day, and it’s only fun when she’s in a depressive state.

As far as she was aware, she wasn’t having one of those depressive seasons, so staying in bed all day would only make her antsy instead of satisfied. She needed to do something, anything, literally whatever that would give her something to do and make her feel fulfilled at the same time.

The sound of her phone ringing in the quiet space made Y/n jump in surprise. She quickly got up and went over to the kitchen where she left her phone on the counter, and her heart leaped at the sight of Aunt May calling. Right! She had friends outside of the Avengers. Maybe she could have a girls day with May, and if they were free, she could call Pepper and Laura too.

“Hel-” Y/n’s greeting was cut off by May loudly sneezing on the other end. Okay, so hanging out with May was gonna have to wait until she was better.

“Y/n, hi.” May said, her voice incredibly scratchy, and it was clear that the woman had seen better days.

“Hi, May… Are you okay?” Y/n winced when her question was followed by another sneeze. At least her question was answered.’

“No, sorry, I came down with something really bad when I woke up.” May groaned and Y/n could hear from her end May grabbing a tissue and sniffling into it.

“Oh, do you need anything? Do you need me to keep you company?” Y/n asked in concern.

“No, no, I’ll be fine. But Peter’s Decathlon team is having a bake sale later at two, and I was supposed to bake a bunch of food for Peter.” May explained and a huge smile grew on Y/n’s face at the words.

“Do you need me to take over and make sure Peter has something for his bake sale?” Y/n asked eagerly, practically bouncing on her feet.

“If it’s not too much trouble. I know how busy you always are.” May said and Y/n looked around at the quiet, empty, and spotless room.

“Yeah, I had a whole schedule planned out for today, but just for you and Peter, I can hold it off. This seems more important.” Y/n said nonchalantly, and May let out a breath of relief.

“Thank you so much, Y/n. You don’t know how much help this gives me. I really owe you one.” May said, and just then, another sneeze came up and Y/n could practically feel that one in her own body.

“You don’t owe me anything, it’ll be my pleasure. I’ll get started right now, you go rest.” Y/n said and May thanked Y/n once more before hanging up the phone.

Thank god May got sick! Okay, that’s not something Y/n should be celebrating. Thank god she finally has something to do! Yeah, that was better.

Without wasting another second, Y/n went behind the counter and started going on a baking spree. She was pretty sure she blacked out for the entirety of it because it went by so fast.

“Peter!” Peter turned his head to see Mr. Harrington jogging over to him. Peter let out a whine, glancing over to Ned and MJ who gave him a winced look.

“Hey, Mr. Harrington.” Peter said with a sigh as the teacher stopped in front of him.

“What’s going on? Why is your guys’ table still empty? The bake sale is about to open in thirty minutes.” The teacher said as he gestured over to the table next to them which only had a single muffin sitting on top of it.

“Technically it’s not empty.” Peter said sheepishly.

“Peter, this was a muffin from the cafeteria.” Mr. Harrington said in a scolding tone.

“Look, I’m sorry Mr. Harrington. My Aunt May got sick this morning and she was supposed to be the one to make us the food for the sale.” Peter explained.

“So you guys just have nothing to bring? What about MJ and Ned? Don’t you guys have anything?” Mr. Harrington asked in a slightly panicked voice.

“None of my parents know how to bake, so unless you want everyone in school to get food poisoning, you’re getting nothing from me.” MJ spoke up and Mr. Harrington shook his head in disappointment.

“Ned?” He turned to the boy who reached into his bag and pulled out a brown paper bag.

“My lola made me some Pandesal, but I don’t think it’ll be enough.” Ned said, placing the bag on the table. Mr. Harrington looked into the bag to see about ten bread rolls, causing a sigh to leave his mouth as he lifted his glasses to grip the bridge of his nose.

“Okay, uh, how about this? You guys go over to Flash’s table and help him sell his cupcakes. I’m pretty sure he’s not gonna be able to do that all on his own, and you guys can just assist.” Mr. Harrington said, gesturing over to Flash’s table which was filled with Avengers themed cupcakes, but they were mostly Spider-Man designs.

“But Mr. Harrington-”

“No buts, Peter. You guys had two weeks to prepare for this bake sale. Now, get over to Flash’s table and help him set up.” Mr. Harrington said in a final tone before walking off.

“Is it too late to run and ditch the sale entirely?” Ned asked and Peter opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by the last person he wanted to see.

“Ayo, Parker! What, you couldn’t even afford to get boxed cake mix?” Peter rolled his eyes and turned around to see Flash by his table with a smug look on his face.

“You didn’t even bother making yours, Flash.” Ned spoke up.

“We’re selling these for like five bucks a piece. You’re pretty much losing money with all that.” MJ pointed out and Flash stammered a bit before clearing his throat and raising his chin.

“We didn’t buy these. Our private chef made it for us.” He said proudly.

“Yeah? How much do they get paid per hour?” MJ asked with a raised eyebrow and Flash stood there silent for a moment before turning to Betty.

“Hey, can we price these up a bit?” He asked Betty and MJ rolled her eyes.

“I can’t believe we’re gonna be forced to share a table with him for the next few hours.” Ned said in a dejected tone as he took his Pandesal bag and started eating.

“I’m really sorry, guys.” Peter apologized, causing MJ to place her hand on his arm.

“It’s alright. There’s nothing we could’ve done about it.” MJ said and Peter sighed.

Suddenly, the doors to the hall opened, and a familiar five foot two woman started marching through the halls with large boxes in her hands.

“Peter!” The woman’s voice boomed down the hall, causing everyone who was there to turn to her. Peter, MJ, and Ned’s eyes widened at the sight of Y/n getting closer as she set down the boxes on the table.

“Y/n, what are you doing here? I thought you weren’t allowed to be out in the open?” Peter asked in a hushed tone.

“Yeah, aren’t you supposed to be, you know, dead?” Ned asked and Y/n waved her hand dismissively.

“I haven’t publicly been an Avenger since 2014, I don’t think your generation was old enough to remember me by then.” Y/n said as she set the boxes down from the stack before opening them, revealing a whole array of baked goods.

“Holy shit!” Ned said in wonder.

In one box was a large batch of cupcakes, all beautifully designed with whatever math thing Y/n found online, in another was a box of brownies (labelled with and without nuts), and the other was a box of cookies all with more designs while the other were standard chocolate chip cookies.

“When did you make these?” Peter asked in wonder as he watched Y/n start to take them out and organize them on the table.

“Uh, around seven in the morning. Now, there’s more in the SUV outside. Get those, then help me set these up.” Y/n said, shooing them to the direction of where she came.

“Yes, ma’am!” Peter said excitedly as he, Ned, and MJ quickly ran outside.

“Jesus, Y/n, how much did you make?” Peter asked as they all set down around six more boxes of baked goods.

“Well, there’s the cookies, brownies, cupcakes, pies, cream puffs, donuts, cinnamon rolls, cheesecakes, and croissants. So, nine batches.” Y/n answered a bit out of breath, but she seemed really energetic for someone who just spent the entire day baking a bunch of baked goods.

“Croissants? Don’t those take, like, two days to make?” MJ asked in confused wonder as they placed the baked goods on the towers Y/n just bought from Amazon earlier that day.

“I always have homemade puff pastry on hand.” Y/n explained.

“Peter.” Peter and his friends turned to Mr. Harrington who was walking to their table with a stunned look on their face. It was only now that they noticed that the rest of their Decathlon teammates were staring at their table.

“Oh, hey Mr. Harrington.” Peter said awkwardly.

“Where did all this come from? I thought you guys didn’t have anything.” Mr. Harrington said. It was then that he noticed the new woman standing next to them.

“Um, Mr. Harrington, this is Y/n. She’s my, um…” Peter said, only now realizing that he didn’t really know how to call Y/n.

“A family friend. Hi, it’s nice to meet you.” Y/n stepped in, holding out her hand to the man who shook it.

“Did you make all this yourself? That’s really impressive.” Mr. Harrington said in wonder, and Y/n simply smiled.

“I feed seven, sometimes nine, people with really big appetites on a daily basis. This was nothing.”

“Well, I guess you three don’t need to work on Flash’s booth anymore. Actually, I think you three are gonna need more help than him now.” Mr. Harrington said.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Harrington. We got it.” Peter said and Mr. Harrington sent them all a nod before going to help everyone else.

“Parker, I thought you were poor, how can you afford a maid?” Peter held back a groan at the sound of footsteps approaching him from behind.

“What did you just say to him?” Y/n asked with a tilt of her head as she stepped up to the boy. Flash looked at her in shock before a slightly awkward laugh left his mouth, fully facing the woman and looking down at her from where she stood.

“I thought being a maid was your aunt’s job. What, are they paying you two dollars an hour or something?” Flash asked and Y/n looked at the boy with a judging gaze, trying to determine if he was truly being serious or not.

“Flash, just leave us alone.” Peter said in a tired tone. Flash ignored his words and turned to their table, grabbing one of the cupcakes and examining it before taking a bite.

He chewed for a moment before spitting it out on the ground. Flash then turned back to Peter with a smirk before pushing the cupcake into his chest, the frosting getting all over his shirt.

“Tastes cheap. That’s to be expected from you though.” Flash said as a laugh left his mouth. He turned around and walked away, purposely bumping into their table and causing one of the pies to fall and splatter on the ground.

“W-We’re gonna clean that up.” Ned said nervously as he and MJ eyed Y/n with slight fear of her reaction. Before she could get angry, they quickly went to fix on the pie.

Peter sighed before fearfully turning to Y/n. He had never seen the woman angry before. Sure, he’s seen him upset and incredibly disappointed, but never angry. This was a woman who was always said to be one of the most dangerous people on earth. Peter didn’t want to see her bad side even if it wasn’t directed at him.

But instead of eyes blazing with fury and a clench jaw, Peter was met with an extremely concerned look. Somehow, that was worse than Y/n being mad.

“Come on, kid. Let’s get your shirt cleaned.” Y/n said in a soft tone, gently grabbing Peter’s arm and leading him away. Peter was about to protest, but the look Y/n gave him told him that there wasn’t going to be any room for that.

Peter led Y/n to the co-ed bathroom of their school, and Y/n helped wash off the frosting on Peter’s shirt in the sink. After they were done, Peter started patting dry the wet spot on his shirt with a few paper towels, glancing up every now and again to Y/n who remained silent the entire time.

“Why didn’t you tell any of us you were getting bullied, Peter?” Y/n asked and Peter sighed, throwing the paper towels in the sink.

“It really isn’t a big deal.” Peter said, crossing his arms and looking at the ground.

“Peter, yes it is.”

“No, it’s not. Flash is just one guy, I’ve dealt with worse.” Peter said and Y/n stepped forward, which made Peter look at her.

“That’s the exact point, Peter. You’re already going through so much more than any kid should, you shouldn’t have to deal with a bully on top of all of that.” Y/n said and Peter shook his head.

“It’s not like I can do anything about it.” Peter said and Y/n frowned in confusion.

“Why not?”

“Because that’s just gonna make it worse. I don’t need any more unnecessary attention on me. People thinking I have a Stark Industries internship already put enough eyes on me, I don’t need anymore.” Peter admitted, and Y/n immediately understood what the boy meant.

“They won’t find out about who you are just by standing up for yourself.” Y/n said.

“But what if they do!” Peter exclaimed in frustration with a hint of fear in his tone.

“I’m not willing to take that chance. There’s just too much on the line if I do. If enduring stupid comments from Flash is what it takes to keep the people I care about safe, then fine. I really don’t care.” Peter said honestly and Y/n stared at him for a moment before nodding her head.

“Alright.” Y/n said, and Peter looked at her with a shocked expression, not expecting her to agree so easily.

“Really?” He asked in disbelief.

“Yes. If you say you don’t care, and if you say you can handle it, then fine.” Y/n said and Peter let out a thankful sigh before wrapping her arms around Y/n. The woman sighed as she wrapped her arms around the boy as well.

“Thank you for understanding.” Peter said as he pulled away, and Y/n gave the boy a kind smile.

The bell ringing caught their attention.

“The bake sale’s gonna start. I have to get back. Thank you so much again for baking all of that for us, I really appreciate it.” Peter said and Y/n nodded.

“Any time, Peter. Literally, if you ever need any help, don’t hesitate to contact any of us.” Y/n said and Peter nodded with a thankful smile. He turned to leave, but stopped in his tracks and turned back to Y/n with a pleading look on his face.

“Please don’t tell anybody else. I don’t want anyone else worrying about it. I just want to get this day over with and make sure the team gets the funding it needs.” Peter said and Y/n nodded in response.

“Okay. I won’t tell anyone.” Y/n said and Peter let out a breath of relief, walking up and giving Y/n one more brief hug.

“You’re the best, Y/n.” Peter said with a huge grin before turning around and walking out of the bathroom. Y/n stood there for a moment, watching as Peter walked away before the door to the bathroom shut and blocked him from her view.

Y/n reached into her pocket and took out her phone, going over to her contacts and calling a certain number.

“Hey, Tony. Could you do me a favor?”

“Peter, these are so good, I can’t believe you know someone who can bake like this!” Betty said as she ate one of the croissants from their table.

“Thanks, but those are supposed to be for people outside of the team.” Peter said as he looked at everyone walking past the bake sale without buying anything.

“How much have we made so far?” Mr. Harrington said in concern as everyone counted the amount of their money in their jars.

“And that brings us to a total of…” Mr. Harrington said after everyone called out their amount.

“Thirty-five dollars and fifty-two cents.” MJ called out, making Ned furrow his eyebrows in confusion.

“Where’d the fifty-two cents come from?” He asked.

“Coach Wilson left a very generous tip.” MJ answered, and Mr. Harrington let out a sigh.

“Alright, let’s stay optimistic.” He said after shaking his head and pulling himself together.

“Our goal is two hundred dollars, and we’re already seventeen percent done. We still have about,” Mr. Harrington lifted his arm and pulled his sleeve back to check his watch, “An hour and thirty minutes left. Plenty of time for us to make it, we’ll be fine.” It didn’t seem like he believed the words himself, so it was only natural that the rest of them didn’t either.

“Flash, you’re made of money, right? Why don’t you just cover our travel fees?” Abe asked, putting all the attention on Flash as the rest of the team spoke up in agreement.

“W-Well, I can’t just pay for all of it. School rules state that members of a club can’t pay for their funding themselves.” Flash said as an excuse, looking to Mr. Harrington for support, and the man sadly nodded in confirmation.

“But we’re literally getting the money for our funding from other students of the school through this bake sale, how is it any different?” MJ asked in confusion, but her question was left unanswered.

“Instead of looking at me, why don’t you guys look at Parker. Don’t you have some fancy internship with Tony Stark or something? Why don’t you pay for our trip, you probably get paid big there.” Flash said, pointing to Peter who shrunk in his seat at the eyes that shifted onto him.

“It’s an internship. I don’t get paid.” Peter answered in a mumble.

“Right, how could I forget, you’re impoverished.” Flash said with a laugh, but no one else did.

“Why don’t you mind your own business, Flash.” Ned retorted, though Flash was unfazed.

“I’m telling you guys, this whole time, he’s just been lying about that stupid internship. I bet he just uses it as an excuse to get his grades up.”

“Peter literally contributes to the team more than you do, you’re practically a freeloader.” MJ said with a roll of her eyes, causing Flash to clench his jaw and glare at the three friends.

“You gonna let your little girlfriend protect you, huh, Parker? Can’t even fight your own battles?” Flash irked, but Peter just looked away.

“I’m not even doing anything, man.” Peter said weakly, and Flash scoffed at the response.

“Yeah, that’s right. Hide behind your friends and that Stark internship you’re so proud of.” Peter clenched his fists under the table and tried his best to calm down. He couldn’t let Flash get to him. Just another hour, and he could be done with all of it and go.

Flash opened his mouth to taunt Peter once more when the sounds of gasps and people rushing to one part of the hallway interrupted him. The Decathlon team turned their heads to the sound of the commotion and saw a bunch of their classmates crowding around one person as they slowly started making their way towards them.

“What the hell is going on?” Flash muttered as he stood up on his chair to try and see above the crowd. He seemed to succeed because a gasp left his lips as he fell back down to his chair.

“What’s this I hear about a bake sale?” Peter’s eyes widened at the sound of a very familiar voice. He shot up from his chair and all of a sudden, the crowd went quiet as they stepped aside and made way for one Tony Stark who approached the Decathlon Bake Sale, specifically Peter’s table.

Tony stopped and looked at all the baked goods laid out in front of him. Yeah, that was definitely Y/n’s baking. He could recognize that from a mile away. He looked back up to Peter who had a look of panic in his eyes, and Tony took off his sunglasses and looked at Peter with an unimpressed look.

“Why didn’t you tell me your little mathletes team didn’t have enough funding.” Tony asked and Peter stammered.

“It’s a Decath— Mr. Stark, what are you doing here?” Peter asked in confusion, though a voice in the back of his head was already telling him the answer to that question.

“I heard you needed help with your little team, and I’m here to do just that.” Tony said as he reached into his pocket and took out his wallet.

“How much do you guys need? Huh? Here, have this, it should be enough.” Tony said as he pulled out ten, hundred dollar bills and placed it into Peter’s hands, causing the boy’s eyes to widen.

“M-Mr. Stark, I can’t accept this!” Peter exclaimed.

“What? Is that not enough? Fine.” Tony said as he started taking out more, but Peter was quick to stop him.

“No, no, no, no! That’s way too much! Also, why are you just carrying a thousand dollars in your wallet, that’s really unsafe!” Peter said as he handed the money back to Tony.

“I don’t understand. Your team needs the money, and I’m giving it, what’s the issue?” Tony asked, knowing full well what the issue was.

“Mr. Stark, this is a bake sale! If you just give us the money, all the food we made will go to waste.” Peter explained, occasionally glancing at the crowd that was staring at them in awe.

“Then I’ll buy your entire stock out, done.” Tony said, like it was no big deal.

“Mr. Stark, no.” Peter said in the most stern voice he could muster, which wasn’t actually all that stern, but it got the point across anyway.

Tony raised an eyebrow at Peter as he glanced at the tables of baked goods around him, before looking back at all the people that had gathered around them.

“You want to give your team its funding fair and square?” Tony asked and Peter shifted at the question, not sure what the man was trying to get at.

“Yeah, pretty much.” There was a collective sigh of disappointment among the Decathlon team after hearing that answer.

Tony reached back into his wallet, and Peter was about to stop him until he saw Tony only pull out five dollars. Tony placed it on the table and took one of the donuts and took a bite before turning to the crowd.

“Anybody who buys twenty dollars worth of food gets a picture.” Tony announced, and there was a pause. Then everyone started rushing at the tables to buy a bunch of baked goods for a picture, overwhelming the Decathlon team, but they were quick to move because they were finally getting their funding.

Peter looked around distraught. There was already a line of people getting a photo with Tony after showing the food they bought, and the jars were quickly filling up with more money than they needed, yet there was plenty more food to spare.

“I-I need a second.” Peter said to MJ and Ned who just nodded in response because they were too busy dealing with the demanding line of customers.

He quickly pushed his way through the crowd and ran until he was outside. Peter took his phone out and sat on the stairs, dialing a familiar number, his leg bouncing up and down frantically as he waited for the call to be received.

“Hey, Peter! I’m at your apartment, I gave Aunt May some soup.” Y/n said happily through the phone, and a faint ‘Hi, sweetie!’ from Aunt May was heard in the background, followed by a loud sneeze.

“Y/n, I told you not to tell anyone.” Peter said in an irritated voice.

“I didn’t tell anyone about your… You know. I told you I wouldn’t.” Y/n said in a hushed tone, probably to keep May from overhearing.

“Then why is Mr. Stark here? He came here out of nowhere and offered to pay for my team’s entire funding. Why else would he do that?” Peter said and a light groan was heard on the other line.

“Of course he did.” Y/n mumbled.

“Peter, I only told Tony that you had a bake sale and that he should come by to help you.” Y/n explained.

“Why would you tell him that?” Peter asked in confusion.

“Because you told me you just wanted to get the day over with and get your team its funding.” Y/n answered.

“How does Mr. Stark being here help that?”

“He is literally Iron Man, and your school is filled with a bunch of math and science nerds, so they probably love him as Tony Stark too. If anybody was going to speed the bake sale up, it was going to be him.” Peter got up from the stairs and looked through the window of the doors to see everyone walking down the halls holding some sort of baked good in their hands.

“We would’ve been fine on our own.” Peter mumbled.

“Peter, I’m okay with letting you deal with your issue on your own, but if I know a way to make it even a bit easier for you, then I’m gonna do that. I’m sure that if anyone else on the team found out, they’d feel the same.” Y/n said, and Peter sighed in response.

“We trust you to solve your own problems, but you can’t stop us from caring about you. That part will always be non-negotiable. Now, just enjoy your day and be happy that your team got the funding they needed.” Peter wasn’t able to say anything else, because Y/n had already hung up the call before he could.

Peter looked down at his phone as Y/n’s words rang in his head. He put his phone back into his pocket and walked back into the school. As he was approaching the bake sale, he could see that the other Decathlon members were gushing over Tony and thanking him for helping him meet their goal.

“Oh, kid, come here. Tony said when he caught sight of Peter, turning back to the table full of the baked goods that Y/n made.

“Mr. Stark, I-” Peter was interrupted when Tony shoved a donut into his mouth. Peter was about to take it out when the taste melted on his tongue, eyes widening as he grabbed it and bit down.

“Good, right?” Tony asked and Peter nodded in agreement as he continued to eat the donut.

“Now come on, your aunt wanted pictures.” Tony said as he fished his phone out of the pocket of his jacket.

“Hey, you, come over here and take a photo of us.” He said to Ned who stared at him with a gaping mouth in wonder.

“Come on, kid, we don’t got all day.” Tony said when Ned continued to stand there, effectively snapping Ned out of his trance.

“Y-Yes sir!” He said eagerly as he shakily took Tony’s phone from him.

“And dear god, do not drop it.” Tony said when he saw how shaky Ned’s hands were. He wrapped his left arm around Peter’s shoulder and pulled him in, raising a peace sign up with his right hand once Ned pointed the phone at them.

“Hey, Mr. Stark?” Peter asked, turning to the man standing beside him.

“Kid, the point of a picture is to look at the camera when it’s being taken.” Tony said, taking his left hand and placing it on the back of Peter’s head to turn it back to Ned who was taking different shots because they all kept getting blurry from how shaky he was.

“Mr. Stark, did you really come here just to help us get funding?” Peter asked Tony while keeping his eyes on the camera.

“That and I’ve been bugging Y/n about making donuts but she never does, but of course when you need them, she does it without question. And she claims she doesn’t play favorites.” Tony answered with an eyeroll.

“Besides, I was in a really boring meeting, and I was ready to pull off this guy’s toupe just to entertain myself when Y/n called. So, it was either lose really important investors or spend some time with the kid and good food. Really difficult choice, took me hours to think it through.” Really, Y/n just mentioned Peter, and Tony was already out the door.

Peter looked back up to Tony, causing the man to turn his head back to the camera again without even giving him a glance. The more Peter spent time with Tony, the more he was able to see through the wall of sarcasm Tony always had up. There was a lot he didn’t know, but after what Y/n told him, what he does know is that they really do care about him.

A smile slowly made its way onto Peter’s face and he looked up to the camera, holding the donut up as well as he finally let himself enjoy the fact that their team got their funding.

#avengers fanfiction #avengers x reader #avengers x you #mcu x reader #peter parker x reader #tony stark x reader #peter parker #tony stark #mj watson #ned leeds

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sw1mmingfoolz · 2 years

Text

[3:48am] - johnny suh

requested? Y/N

genre: what a surprise it's pure fluff :)

content warnings: reader has a nightmare but it's not more than a mention

wc: 850

a/n: sleep attack turned into a 2 hour nap and i had some weird ass dreams (i discord VCed bang chan at one point tho which was cool lol) and then i woke up and realised haven't yet written very much for nct yet and i haven't written anything for my boo thang john-ah so. here you all go lol i'm sorry if it sucks and i used like every synonym going for sleepiness i have just woken up :') feedback is always extremely appreciated and all that stuff! wishing you all beautiful dreams for the rest of time 💞💞 dedicating this to u @suhnshinehaos cuz you're my partner in johnny brainrot agskdhdj 😤💕

The dial tone lasted a surprisingly short time, your boyfriend's face appearing before you as smushed into the pillow as your own. You simultaneously giggled a little at the sight of each other, the tension in your shoulders already beginning to lift as you looked at him through sleep laden eyes. Johnny blinked at you blearily, soft smile unable to fight itself from his lips as he looked at you. He didn't think he'd ever stop finding you the cutest being in the entire universe.

"Is everything okay, baby?" he asked, voice groggy and throat scratchy from the lack of use. He'd seemingly been deep asleep and you suddenly felt guilty, knowing that wasn't something he got a lot of, especially on tour.

"Sorry for waking you," you responded, dodging his question, to which he instantly shushed you.

"Hey, it's okay, you must've had a reason, right? And I'm always happy to get to see my love." Your heart felt like it was melting at his words, drowsiness lowering his inhibitions. Not that it needed to; dating Johnny was a pretty good way to feel completely adored 24/7.

"I had a nightmare and wanted to make sure you were okay," you admitted in a small voice, happy the dark was concealing the reddening of your cheeks as you felt them heat up. You suddenly felt ridiculous, but if he also thought so, he'd never show it.

He turned to his other side with a grunt, camera taking a moment to adjust, and when his eyes flickered to the top left corner of his screen you realised you hadn't checked the time either, desperate to see your boyfriend's ridiculously (and, in your opinion, unfairly) beautiful face. It was just after 4am, and knowing it wouldn't be long until the managers and early bird members started waking the others up made another wave of guilt wash over you. He seemed to notice, eyes as soft as ever even as he looked at you through a vaguely blurry screen, reassuring you again that you can always call him when you need to.

"I wish I could just pull you onto my chest,'' he hummed, still fighting off the brunt of his slumber. "Stroke that pretty hair, have you listen to my heartbeat,"

"It literally always works," you murmured, never having wanted to cuddle up to him more. He grinned at the thought himself, excited over the fact it wouldn't be too much longer until he was able to do that again.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" he offered, a large hand coming to run itself through soft hair.

"It's all pretty hazy, just the usual stuff where you're walking away and I'm all stuck and you're like 'I don't like you anymore' and whatever." You blurted it all out at once, your own voice heavy and deep, and he closed his eyes for a second before looking directly into the camera with a smirk.

"Am I still hot when I'm 'all hazy'?" he asked with a fake coyness that made you roll your eyes and snort.

"Always, baby," you laughed, indulging him just a little. It wasn't like he needed it, he knew he was stunningly attractive. Moreover, he knew you found him stunningly attractive, which was a lot more important to him. He grinned, satisfied with your answer.

"As you can tell, I'm not going anywhere," he all but whispered, words only just picking up on the microphone. He paused for a second before opening his mouth again with a small chuckle. "Well, I might be in a different city right now, but you know what I mean. You'll have to try way harder if you wanna get rid of me. My heart is yours." You wondered if he'd say something so ridiculously cheesy to you if he weren't still fighting a gradual losing battle with his own dreams, nose scrunching as he cringed a little at his words. You quickly decided he would, for as much as he'd fold inwards at himself afterwards, Johnny was quite the master of incredibly greasy lines that managed to keep your heart aflutter when you so much as looked at him.

"My heart is yours too," you returned gently, feeling it steady when you mentioned it. Your breathing had returned back to normal as he'd spoken, feeling soft and cosy under the ever warming lamp that was his love, a perpetual fuzzy blanket like one right out of the dryer ready to soothe any emotion that might weigh down on your shoulders. You found your eyes beginning to droop again as his fully closed.

"I love you, Yn. I'm glad you called," he managed to mumble in slurred speech before he lost the grasp he'd been fighting to keep so valiantly, and you hoped he heard you respond before he fell asleep fully.

"I love you too, Johnny, thank you." You purposefully didn't hang up, leaving the sound of his soft breathing through the microphone swirling comfortingly in your ears as you too gave into the somnolence and descended into way sweeter dreams.

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kpopsickiess · 2 years

Text

Jessi Snowterview

Sickie: Soobin

Caretaker: Jessi

(inspired by @sneezyminniejo)

Soobin p.o.v

I was honored when I got a text from Jessi noona asking me if I'd like to do a solo appearance on Showterview. It was late December and she said it was a Christmas/New Year special. I woke up the morning of the interview and was super disappointed when I felt achy, tired, congested, and had a scratchy feeling in my throat. I decided against saying anything because I was so excited to do the interview. Plus the excitement from the interview helped when added to the excitement of it being snowy and beautiful out. On the way to the studio it had started snowing harder, I love snow so I enjoyed the walk there, ignoring Yeonjun's repeated suggestions to not walk, claiming I'd get sick. I wanted to tell him that it didn't matter because I was already sick, but I knew he'd likely tell me to not go to the interview.

I arrived at the studio, feeling quite excited, the minute I walked it Jessi noona ran up to me. "Soobin!!!" She gave me a huge hug, I tried to stop myself from melting into it, I felt thoroughly chilled from my walk there. "Oh my God Soobin, did you walk here?" She asked, a stern tone in her voice. I felt my face heat up, it felt like I was getting scolded by my mom or older sister. "Yeah, I really love the snow" she shook her head, "you're going to get sick"

"Don't worry noona, I'm okay" I said smiling, hoping my dimpled charm would distract her. Meanwhile, I had told refrain from sniffling, as my nose had started running as soon as I had entered the warm studio. "Are you ready to start?"

"Just a minute, I have to use the bathroom" I left the room, and quickly went to the bathroom, once inside I grabbed a handful of tissues and blew my nose, which triggered a wet sneeze. I blew my nose again, as best as I could, trying to get it as clear as possible before going back out. I then tucked a handful of tissues into my sweatshirt pocket before returning to the main room where Jessi noona was waiting. "You ready now?" I nodded, my throat was starting to really hurt, I was starting to wish I had rescheduled the interview. The two of us began recording every question she asked. I tried to respond with the same playful wittiness that Jessi noona had, but as the interview continued it got harder and harder as I got more and more tired and my voice began giving out. We had been recording file about 20 minutes when Jessi turned to the staff, "can we turn off the cameras for a second'' I was confused as told why, but as soon as the cameras were off, she went to the corner of the room and grabbed a box of tissues, and handed them to me, I blushed and took a few, I didn't want to fully blow my nose because I was a bit embarrassed, but the sensation still tickled my nose, and I took another few tissues, "HHttcchUH HHTChHU-HhtcHUuh HHitChh-Shu"

"Bless you" I thanked her, blowing my nose again. "Soobin, are you sick?" I avoided eye contact, "no" I winced at my unconvincing lie, noticing how congested my voice sounded. "Are you sure?" I wanted to answer but coughed instead, which really hurt. "Soobin, you're in no condition to continue filming" I blushed, but the embarrassment only grew when she suddenly pressed her hand to my forehead, I felt myself leaning into her touch, her hands were cold. "Soobin, you have a fever"

"I do?" "Yes, and not a super low one, it's fairly high" "Oh" was all I said, "that would explain why I felt so cold and achy" she shook her head in exasperation. "You can't walk back in this condition" she looked out the window, "especially with snow like this" "Should I call someone" she looked out the window again, "no, it's not safe to drive in this weather. My place is literally two minutes from here, you can go there you can just stay with me for a little while" I blushed, "okay" She stood up, "did you bring anything?" I shook my head, "please tell me you have a coat" "Yep"

"Good." She grabbed her jacket from the back of a chair, and instructed me to put mine on. I followed her instructions. The two of us left the studio together, she locked the door as she did so. Walking felt like hard work, I was tired and breathing hurt, and my throat was dry. And every time I coughed I could feel it rip at my throat and hurt my chest, which began to ache. Jessi seemed quite worried,she had a comforting arm around my shoulders. She led me to the front door of her house, only removing her arm for a moment to unlock the door. After opening the door, she led me inside, and over to the couch. "you can lay down there" she took my coat and hung it up. "Do you like tea?" I nodded. "Are you hungry?" I shook my head. "Is your throat hurting?" I nodded, it really hurt and I didn't really want to talk, and Jessi seemed to accept that. She also seemed to notice that I was shivering, "I should check your temperature, I'm willing to bet your fever is at least 100⁰" in my feverish, sleep deprived brain I barely registered what she said. But I did notice her leave the room, she retired a few moments later with a box of tissues, a thermometer, and a bottle of what I guessed was DayQuil. She sat down on the couch next to me, "could you put this under your tongue?" I nodded, and did as she instructed. "You're 22 right" I shook my head and held up 1 finger. "21?" I nodded she carefully measured out the medicine, and once the thermometer beeped she swapped the device for the medicine cup, "drink that" the Medicine felt nice on my throat, coating and soothing the firey pain. "Thought so" she said looking at the thermometer, "what is it?" I asked, noticing I had grown more congested since we got inside. The warmth of her house was messing with my sinuses. "101.3⁰" I nodded, honestly, I had no clue what that actually was, I knew Kai would, but I don't speak American. "Is that high?" I asked, taking a tissue out and pressing it to my nose. She shrugged, "it's definitely a fever, but it's not like concerningly high. Not like hospital high" I nodded, blowing my nose when she finished talking. Which one again tickled my nose, "HHTchhUu- hhHettChhu- hhhTCH-iu hhhAtChu" "Bless you" she handed me a couple tissues, I thanked her and took them from her outstretched hand. I still felt a bit self-conscious about fully blowing my nose in front of her. So I just pressed the tissues against my face, and wiped my nose and blew softly, as I had down before. She shocked me when she took another tissue out and pressed it against my face, "either blow your nose yourself, or I'll make you" I blushed, a bit taken aback by her boldness. I took the tissue from her hand and blew my nose, I ended up needing to take another few tissues to finish. She cringed, not in disgust, but more in sympathy. "There, now you can breathe" I blushed, and nodded. I felt a bit embarrassed having Jessi taking care of me, but I did appreciate it.

There was a whistling sound from the kitchen, which startled me, "that's the kettle, I'll go make tea." She pointed to a remote seated on the table in front of me, "you can watch something" I nodded, my throat was killing me. She disappeared into the kitchen, I picked up the remote and powered up the TV. I saw she had Netflix, so I turned on Squid Game, Yeonjun had been pestering me to watch it since it came out. I was about 5 minutes into the first episode when Jessi came back. She had a tray with two cups of tea and a few pastry looking objects next to it, which she set on the table in front of me, and sat down next to me. "Oooh Squid Game!"

"I haven't seen it yet, my members, especially Yeonjun, have been pestering me to watch it" "I can't believe you haven't seen it yet! It's so good!" I was glad she had seen it before, because in all honesty I had to cough and sneeze every few minutes, which was likely quite annoying. But she didn't say anything about it, which I appreciated. After the first episode I was starting to doze off, Jessi seemed to notice how tired I was getting, because after the first episode, she turned off the tv. "You should get some sleep, especially because you have a fever" I was already half asleep so I didn't argue with her. Instead I layed down on the couch, and got comfortable, I was nearly asleep, when I felt a soft blanket being draped over my body. I smiled, and softly thanked Jessi. Who gently ran her fingers through my hair, "you're welcome. Sweet dreams"

Jessi p.o.v

I was glad to see Soobin fall asleep, I had been worried about him since he walked into the studio that morning. He had looked ghostly pale, and I could tell from his eyes that he had a fever, plus he was shivering like a wet dog. I knew him walking that morning was a very dumb decision, and intended to scold him about it when he felt better. It was a very new thing for me to take care of someone else. Having been a soloist for the majority of my career, and coming to Korea by myself as a fairly young kid, I was fairly independent, and didn't often have people over at my house, and I don't think I'd ever had a sick kid at my house, not would I have ever expected to. I looked out the window, noticing it was very snowy outside, I knew it was supposed to storm pretty hard, but I didn't expect it to fully blizzard. I had a feeling that Soobin would be here for a couple of days, at lead until it was safe enoguh to drive him back to his dorms. I was grateful that I had gone grocery shopping the day before. Living alone I was often worried about what was going to happen if I got snowled in without any food. So I often stressed-bought a shit ton of food every time there was a snow storm. This now proved to be a good thing, because the roads were all closed and I now had two people stuck in my house. While Soobin slept I began making food for dinner. I stuck to making soft food that would be easy on his throat. As I worked I listened to music. I had made a playlist with five songs from each of my showterview guests, and as I was listening a txt song came up which made me realize that Soobin hadn't told his members that he was not coming home tonight, they were probably worried. I wouldn't be surprised if they thought he was dead in a snowbank somewhere. I opened my phone, and clicked on Yeonjun's number, he picked up on the third ring, he sounded panicked. "hey Jessi noona"

"Hi Yeonjun, I just wanted to let you know that Soobin is with me. I was worried about him walking home by himself in the snow, especially with him having a cold. And it wasn't safe tod rive with how bad the roads are" I heard him audibly sigh in relief after hearing that. "So he's okay?"

"Yep, he is sick, did you guys know that he's sick?"

"No, although I'm not surprised, he walked into he snow to get to the studio this morning and then yesterday he walked home from the studio, and then sat in his wet clothes for like an hour, claiming that ‘they'll dry eventually’" I rolled my eyes, that boy I swear. "Does he have a fever?"

"Yeah, not an alarmingly high one, but it's definitely a fever"

"He also tends to usually run warm, so his normal temperature is a bit higher than most people's, so it's likely even less of a fever"

"Alright, good to know. Is there anything else I should know?" He was quiet for a second, he seemed to be thinking. "He's very difficult when sick. I think it's because he's the leader, so he often forces himself to be strong our tough. And he doesn't easily let people just take care of him. He's very stubborn" I thought back to him nearly being forced to even just blow his nose. "He will get easier once he can come to terms with the fact that he's sick and stops being in denial and stubborn about it."

"Okay, good to know "

"Thanks for taking care of him noona"

"No problem Yeonjun" we both said goodbye, and hung up. After doing so I went back to cooking. When I heard four loud sneezes coming from the living room. And then I heard a sniffling sound, and Soobin walked into he kitchen. "Good morning sleeping beauty"

"Hi Noona" he sniffled, and sneezed again "bless you"

"Snf thanks" he took a napkin from the stack I had on my table, and blew his nose. "are you hungry?" He nodded, and blew his nose again. I felt bad for him, but also was a bit relieved that he was finally comfortable enough around me to let his guard down. I felt his forehead, he felt warmer than before, but he had also been under a blanket, and the heat was on. I did notice the way he leaned into my hand when I set it on his forehead. "Are you feeling any better?" He shook his head, "do you feel worse or about the same?"

"Maybe a little bit w-hhTTchuH- hhichAah- HHttcchUH HHTChHU-HhtcHU- *snf* a bit worse" he coughed, which sounded painful. "I'm sorry bud, after you eat you can take more medicine"

"How long was I asleep?"

"Only about 2 hours, there's a medicine that should help with your cough, it'll probably make you pretty tired though" he nodded, and sat down at the kitchen table. "I called Yeonjun and let him know where you are" "Thank you! I hadn't even thought about that"

"Yeah, neither had I, but he seemed pretty worried when I called him" he rubbed the back of his neck looking guilty. "I'll definitely owe them an apology, I'd call them but my phone's dead" he coughed with he strain of a full sentence. "I have a charger you can use, remind me after we eat" he nodded, rubbing his hands over his face, he looked drained. I gently ruffled his hair, "I'm sorry you don't feel good, once you eat you can go to sleep" he nodded, and rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. I set food in front of him. He began eating it, "’s good"

"Thank you" I hadn't cooked for anyone besides myself in a very long time, in fact since Refund Sisters in 2019. I didn't even know if it would taste good, I was so used to my own cooking that it was possible that I was a shitty cook and just was used to my own cooking. He ate most of it, he looked about to fall asleep while eating. "Bin, it's getting kinda late, you should get to bed. Do you want to shower? It might help with the congestion and your cough" he nodded, I showed him where the bathroom was, before heading back to the kitchen, and cleaning up. The I realized that Soobin didn't have any other clothes besides what he came in. So I went through my closet to see if I could find anything, sadly Soobin is much taller than I was. I thought for a minute, I knew Soobin was taller than Dawn, but at least he was closer in height than I was, and would likely have something better. And Hyuna and Dawn live next door, so I quickly went over their house and knocked on there door. Hyuna answered, "hey Jessi, what are you doing?"

"Long story, but I need guys pajamas"

"What?"

"It's a long story, I can tell you later" she looked at me like I had three heads, but she shrugged, "okay" she disappeared down the hallway and came back a second later, a pair of sweatpants, and pair of basketball shorts, a sweatshirt and a Tshirt. "I wasn't sure exactly what you needed so I hope this works."

"That's amazing thank you Hyuna" I blew her a kiss as I left, she gave me a very confused look, "you're welcome" and she returned the blown kiss. I got back to the house, I still heard the water running so I knew Soobin was still showering. I set the clothes in the counter. (Have you guys ever seen those bathrooms that have the shower+toilet in one part and then you can close the door, and then the counter/sinks are on the other side, but there's like a wall there. Yeah that's what this bathroom is) I assumed Soobin would figure out what the clothes were for, so I went back downstairs and finished cleaning up from dinner, and then went to the medicine cabinet and found the cough syrup. I sat down at the kitchen table, scrolling through Instagram while I waited. A few minutes later Soobin came downstairs wearing the basketball shorts and sweatshirt, which were a little bit small, but better than I had thought. "Oh good you found the clothes. I also have cough syrup for you, and then you should get some sleep." He nodded, "yes mom" he said jokingly, I rolled my eyes, "I'm not that old" I said, setting the cup of cough syrup in front of him. He swallowed it down, grimacing as he did so. "It's disgusting isn't it" I said trying not to laugh. Remering earlier in fall when I had a nasty cough and got the syrup, it was the most disgusting thing ever, but it really helped. He nodded, with a grimace, "it does really help" I assured him, "alright, bed time for Binnie" he blushed at my comment. But he went to the couch and layed down, I set the blanket over him, "sleep well" "Thanks so much noona"

"You're welcome" I went upstairs and got ready for bed, coming back downstairs when I was done, and was not surprised to see that Soobin was fast asleep. After making sure the front door was locked and the dishwasher had been started, I went upstairs and got into bed, I played soft music while I stared out the window, seeing soft snowflakes falling. I was glad the blizzard was stopping, I hoped they had the roads cleared soon, knowing that Soobin would be more comfortable in his own bed and house, with his members. I fell asleep not long after.

~the next morning~

Soobin p.o.v

I woke up the next morning, thuroughly confused as to where I was. It took me a solid 2 minutes to recall the day before. I was sin Jessi noona's house. I felt much better than I had the day before, I still was congested and had a scratchy throat, but I felt better. Glad that it seemed to be more of a bad cold and less of the flu. I looked around the living room, and became aware of the noise coming from the kitchen, realizing it was the sound of dishes and pans, combined with the sound of music. Once I fully focused I noticed that it was Itzy's sneakers. I climbed off the couch and went to the kitchen. "Good morning, well I guess afternoon" Jessi said smiling. "Did I wake you up?" I shook my head, looking at the clock on the stove, shocked to see that it was already 12:30. "You slept late, are you feeling better?"

"Yeah, thank you"

"No problem, are you hungry?" I nodded, after smelling whatever she was cooking I was made aware of actually how hungry I was. "sit down at the table, food's almost done" within 10 minutes the two of us were eating a delicious lunch. "Soobin, I think you should head back to your dorms after lunch. Yeonjun called me this morning wanting to make sure you're okay, I think your members would feel better having you back at the dorms with them."

"Okay, thanks for taking care of me- HhTChu-HitCHU-hhhAtChu hht-CHuH"

"No problem, and bless you" I thanked her, and went back to eating. We ate in mostly silence, besides the occasional sneezing, sniffling, and coughing, and an occasional 'bless you' or 'are you okay?' from Jessi. After I ate, I got changed back into my clothes and gave her the clothes I slept in, I was still curious where they came from. Jessi called Yeonjun and asked him to call our manager to send someone to pick me up. Our manager came and picked me up, I once again thanked Jessi, who brushed it off, and simply said, "it's what any good friend would do"

#txt #soobin #Jessi #Sneeze #Sickfic

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