#i bet you didn't expect this much pain

[hawkinsbnbg]

top priority

Prompt: top | Word count: 510 | Rated: G | Tags: modern setting, light angst, fluff | @steddiemicrofic | ao3

Eddie’s career was doing great these days. People listened to his music, bought his albums, and recognized him on the streets.

Eddie Munson had become big.

Not over a fortnight, mind you, it was years of hard work, sleepless nights, and unyielding determination that got Eddie to where he was today.

And Steve was happy for him, willing to step back, to stay behind, to be a constant pillar so Eddie could spread his wings without worries.

Despite their relationship, he didn't expect Eddie to prioritize him over everything else.

(His parents had taught him the hard way how painful it was to hold his hope too high.)

He was content to be second, no, even third or fourth would be enough. And if it stung him to not be first on Eddie's list, then it was his own weight to bear.

Even when he hated sleeping alone on their bed, hated that Eddie's spot was often cold and empty most days, he never intended to burden Eddie with his problems.

Naturally, Steve omitted to mention that a small accident had landed him in the hospital on their nightly phone call.

When Eddie wondered why he sounded more tired than usual, he just threw some half-baked excuses and reassured Eddie that he was alright.

Since Eddie was on tours in Europe, the last thing he wanted was to be a distraction and ruin Eddie's performance.

Then again, he forgot to take Robin into account, because he should've known by now that Eddie’d bet on her to be the one informing him truthfully about Steve's well-being.

And here, sitting by his bedside, Eddie looked concerned and dead on his feet.

Judging by his disheveled appearance, anyone could tell that he had gone straight from the airport to the hospital without taking a break.

After helping Steve recline with some pillows, Eddie said nothing and just gazed at his cast with so much sadness that it pained Steve.

“C’mon, Eds,” he grabbed Eddie's hand to give the man a reassuring squeeze. “It’s not a big deal. I’m gonna be discharged soon anyway.”

“You fell from a ladder and broke your leg, baby,” Eddie brushed aside the stray hair on Steve's forehead. “That's a big deal to me.”

Shrugging, he shifted his gaze away to avoid those warm brown eyes. “Yeah, but your work is more important. I couldn't bring myself to… burden you.”

“No, I’ve told you this before and I’m telling you this now,” Eddie turned his face by his chin gently until their eyes met again. “You're never a burden, angel. You're my top priority. And nothing will ever keep me from running to you, okay?”

Steve nodded and swallowed the lump in his throat. His lips might wobble a bit when he admitted quietly, “You're mine, too.”

Cradling his face, Eddie placed soft kisses on his forehead, his nose bridge, and his lips.

Then, Eddie stroked the apple of his cheek fondly.

“Lucky me.”

And Steve could hear his heart echo the same melody.

“Lucky us.”

Their love song.

[vandal-flower]

Great Power Comes with No Responsibilities

Ror men with a powerful but lazy s/o.

Requested by 🦅 anon.

Characters: Qin Shi Huang, Jack the Ripper, Buddha and Loki.

Warnings: A bit of angst in Jack's part. 😶

Notes: Do you think I wrote too much this time?

Scenario:

"Female god reader who is extremely powerful but lazy , lazy in the means she liked to lie down and sleep a lot , if she wants to she could kill zeus and she can be really intimidating but shes soft around them."

Qin Shi Huang

He didn't even notice you were a god.

You looked too exhausted to function, and yet you were ready to fight whomever tried to harm him.

He would take care of any obstacles that would dare present itself to him, but he loves how you sort the situation than he does.

There were times where you offered to lift his curse, but he declined.

According to him, if he as an emperor could not endure this curse, how could he rule a nation.

You haven't heard such wise words from anyone else before. You smile at him, and gently give him a kiss on his head.

No one dares to challenge either of you as they fear the both individually.

In private, he declares his love and loyalty for you, as the two of you embrace each other.

"Even if the Heavens dare to object our love, we'll remain ontop."

Jack the Ripper

He's honestly surprised how someone like you could love a man like him.

He has faced many hardships, threats and much more from people who knew him and those who don't.

However, when it comes to you, he can't help but cry a little at the smallest hint of love and kindness someone has ever given him.

Someone who is even more powerful than Zeus himself. Despite your intimidating nature, he finds it soothing.

Especially when you are so soft around him. He often wonders what he did to be loved and cherished by someone like you.

Many wanted to end his life even before he fought Hercules. He is very thankful that you continue to defend him even with your reputation at stake.

You often don't mind defending him against the other gods, after all he is your lover.

It's unknown how you two got together, but it does not matter as the two of you are head over heels for each other. (Good for you.)

"I don't know what I did to have to have you in my life, but I promise to cherish our time forever my dear."

Buddha

My guy here is taking advantage of the whole situation.

You can't blame him though, he is literally in a relationship with someone who is as strong, if not stronger than a primordial god!

Many wonder how in the world did you end up with someone like him, but seeing how lazy you are, it makes sense.

Often times, when Zeus threatens to punish him, you put Zeus in his place, promising an eternity of pain should he ever hurt your lover.

The smirk on his face says it all. (Me too.)

He is happy at the fact that even though you are powerful enough to defeat Zeus, or any chief god, you don't get arrogant.

Despite how powerful you are, he treats you the same way he treats everyone, just with more affection.

You bet he's telling Jataka about you, and how much he loves you!

"Thanks for taking care of the other gods for me. I'll cuddle you later if you want honeybun."

Loki

Another one on the list of taking advantage of this, however to an even greater degree. (What did you expect?)

Whenever he pranks Thor or Odin, he immediately runs to you. The two can't do anything but give him a death glare.

He's busy giggling his bum off behind your back, as you wake up from your nap and question who woke you up.

He often questions you if Zeus truly is the Grandfather of the Cosmos. To which you reply an exhausted, "No, it's only because he is powerful and looks older than he is."

At first he thought you were a demigod due to how sluggish you were acting. But quickly straightened up after seeing Zeus treat you with more respect than anyone.

He tried pranking you, but you were too tired to notice anything. And when you did notice, it backfired on him, resulting to him being confined in the emergency room.

He definitely thinks you're weird and has voiced this, but knows you won't care either way. He also tries to get a reaction from you.

He likes telling you the latest stories (or gossip) from the Heavens. You sometimes stay awake just to hear them.

"Apparently there was a rumors spreading around about Aphrodite's beauty salon."

I probably wrote too much didn't I.

My inbox is open. Check out my Rules.

[gregsgoodlookingneighbour]

An unawaited guest

[House x f reader]

( @privatehousesanatomy thanks for motivating me to post it ^^)

Knock knock. A sound from far away. Confused, she opened her eyes. Had that happened in a dream or was the knocking real? Again, this time more indulgent. She reached for the light switch on her bedside lamp and squinted as it lit up. Slowly, she straightened up and walked out of her bedroom, down the hallway towards the front door. As she put one step in front of the other, she tried to wake up. Who would want anything from her this late? Surely midnight had already passed. As she walked past the kitchen, she caught a glimpse of the clock. 01:12. It knocked again. “Yes, yes....,” she mumbled and hurried a little more. When she looked through the peephole, she saw the face of a man. He looked tired, no, exhausted rather. The corridor wasn't exactly flooded with light, so she couldn't see much. But she recognized him and that was enough for her.

House?” she asked, still drowsy, when she had opened the door a crack. “I.... couldn't sleep...and....,” he began, but fell silent again. 'I don't know him like that,' she thought and opened the door wider. She became more and more aware of her tiredness. But she didn't want to turn him away, so she made a brief gesture for him to come in. She closed the door and turned on a small lamp so that she wouldn't be in the dark with him. “Do you want some water?” she asked, not quite knowing how to respond. She took a closer look at him. His face was wet with sweat, his hair drenched. His skin was unusually pale, except for his eyes. They were marked by red circles. He looked exhausted. “Yeah...”

She walked ahead towards the kitchen. Had he been driving or walking? He already had problems with his leg in general, but they seemed to be much worse today.

She opened a cupboard and took out a glass. “With sparkling water or without?” she asked. “Without.” She nodded and poured him a drink from a bottle. He sat down at the table. She put the glass down in front of him before sitting down opposite him. “So - what brings you to me this late?” she asked as she wiped the sleep from her eyes with both index fingers. “You said you were familiar with pain... it's getting worse.” He paused for a moment and let his gaze wander around the kitchen for a moment before he looked her in the eye again. “I... am in withdrawal and I need help.” His voice sounded brittle. She instantly felt a little more awake. That was completely out of character. House was asking for help. She would have rather bet that Christmas and Easter fell on the same day than hear those words come out of his mouth.

“Have you tried heat?” He nodded. “I don't think I can sit in the bath for long, unless I get webbed feet.” To emphasize his point, he stretched out his hands and looked at them. There it was again - his sarcasm. Inwardly, she sighed with relief. “I think I know something,” she said and stood up. She pulled a cherry stone pillow out of a drawer and put it in the microwave. She pressed the buttons and wandered off into her thoughts again. She couldn't let him drive or leave like this. “Wait here,” she said and left the kitchen. He would probably inspect her kitchen more now to find out more about her. He always wanted to know everything so that he could predict everything. She was too tired to stop him.

In the living room, she unfolded the sofa bed and covered it with fresh bedding. After laying out a pillow and a blanket, she returned to the kitchen. He was sitting - neither as she had expected nor in his place. The glass in front of him, now empty, had been looked at by him for a while. She took the grain pillow out of the microwave and wrapped it in a fresh kitchen towel so that it wasn't too hot. “I've covered the couch for you. Come with me,” she said and went back into the living room. He followed her. He also seemed to be tired, because his cane kicking was irregular and slow. He finally sat down on the couch she had covered. “I could also massage your leg, that would probably help you for a few more moments,” she said. After she had said the sentence, she wanted to slap herself. What a stupid phrase. She really was tired.

He nodded and began to undress. Out of embarrassment and because she didn't know what else to do, she turned away for a moment. Instead of getting a stupid comment, however, she heard nothing but the sliding down of fabric. When she turned back around, his pants lay folded up with his jacket on the floor. In the dim light of the lamp, she could now see his leg better. Where there had once been a muscle, in his right leg, just above his knee, was the scar. She didn't want him to feel uncomfortable, because she also knew what it was like to be stared at because you were different, so she knelt down in front of him without comment. She carefully touched his leg and began to massage around the area. Since he didn't talk back and she knew that stroking wouldn't help, she applied more pressure after a while. She looked up briefly to check that he was all right. His eyes were closed and his mouth was ajar. “That feels good....” fell from his lips.

Smiling slightly, she looked at the leg again and continued. She felt every fiber of his skin and wondered how he was taking care of his leg. He was probably just rubbing it, because she couldn't feel that he was letting his surrounding tissue relax more often, in short: his leg was as hard as a rock. Somehow that didn't surprise her, as he had become dependent on Vicodin due to the pain, but she still wished he had at least tried to give his body more rest more often and not in the form of not being in pain, but in the form of relaxation - not in a sexual way.

Once she felt that his leg had relaxed a little more, she stopped. “Lie down now,” she said gently and stood up again. “Too bad, I thought that since I already had you down there, we'd move on to the interesting part,” he remarked, looking her in the eye. A tired smirk graced her lips, but she reached for the pillow and gave it to him. “Good night,” she murmured and wanted to leave, but he held her by the wrist. “Lie down with me.” She sighed. “This isn't going to end well. You know that.” “I won't do anything either. I swear to the Indians,” he said and lay down. He had placed the grain pillow on his leg.

She could feel the tiredness gnawing at her, barely allowing her to stand, so she gave in. It would only be this one time that she lay down next to him, she swore to herself. As she lay next to him, she felt as if she was being pressed into the cushions by a heavy weight. “How's your leg?” she asked. She could feel how difficult it was for her to speak. She was about to fall asleep. “Better. Thanks” he murmured. She closed her eyes. She could feel him looking at her now, but she was too tired to say anything back. The last thing she felt before she fell asleep was the steady breathing next to her. A slight smile crept onto her lips.

[lexosaurus]

Gym 101

In which Valerie forces Danny to go workout with her

[ao3]

Characters: Danny & Valerie Warnings: None Wc: 2,230

****

"You're not engaging your core, Danny. What do I keep telling you?" Valerie sighed and put down her weight. "You're going to fuck up your knees if you don't slow down and do this right."

"And I keep telling you I don't even know what that means!" Danny snapped, not for the first time this week and probably not the last.

When he told Valerie that he, Danny Fenton, was also Danny Phantom, Danny had been expecting Valerie to be so mad at him that she never wanted to speak to him again.

And, well, she had been that mad at him. Very mad, in fact. So pissed, that for a minute, Danny was worried she was going to blast him off her roof.

He hadn't stuck around long after that.

And while he was beginning to make himself comfortable in the campground called, "Valerie's Cold Shoulder," he barely had two days to settle in before she had seemingly decided that enough was enough. 

Just before homeroom began, she strode to him in the hall, pulled him to the side—literally, she yanked him around the corner by his shirt sleeve—and demanded they start hitting the gym together.

"Because," Valerie had explained at his whining, and not patiently either, "I get that you have ghost powers, but your human half is such a twig. Seriously, Danny, do you know how much you're holding yourself back right now? If you actually tried strength training, I bet you'd level up pretty hardcore in ghost fights. Who knows? You might be able to train your reflexes to dodge one of Skulker's blasts from time to time."

And well, that bruise to both Danny's ghostly ego and his human teenage boy ego had been all he needed to agree to start working out with none other than his former rival turned ally, Valerie Gray.

"Stand up straight," Valerie ordered, pulling him back to his present world of pain.

He had no idea how Jazz and his mom liked doing this stuff. At the current moment, he was pretty sure the person who invented the concept of lifting weights was a giant masochist because there was simply no way in hell anyone throughout history would have ever said, "You know what sounds like the most fun thing ever? Let's take heavy objects, lift them, do a little movement, and then put them back down in the same spot we lifted them from!"

But apparently, he was the weirdo for not understanding why there was a dedicated fanbase of people who put a metal bar on their back, put some weights on the sides of the bar, squatted into a crouch, and then stood back up.

And repeated the process.

Again.

And again.

And again. Ten times, resting, and then ten more times.

Danny weakly stood, gripping the bar behind his shoulders like it was the only thing tethering his will to live to this plane of existence, and glared at Valerie through sweaty bangs. "Okay, standing. What next?"

"We godda fix your core."

"Be my guest," Danny said. He wasn't even sure if Valerie could fix something he'd never had to begin with, but if she truly wanted to, then...whatever. He'd lost by coming here, anyway.

Valerie scrutinized him as if he was some sort of science project that wasn't quite working out how she'd hoped. Which, thinking about it for a moment, he figured that was probably exactly what he was to Valerie. 

Then, without warning, she put her hand on his stomach.

Now, Phantom was largely considered a very suave and cool hero. Well, maybe Sam and Tucker would disagree, and sure there was a whole TikTok tag dedicated to videos of him falling into random objects, but still. There were enough random people around who would agree that Phantom was at least somewhat socially sufficient.

But Fenton on the other hand was very much not. He was an awkward, goofy teen. He wasn't popular, and he didn't exactly have a lot of girls fawning over him at every turn.

Which was why Valerie, his former girlfriend who maybe he still had some deeply buried feelings for, touching him so casually was setting off all sorts of alarm bells in his brain.

"...got it?" Valerie was saying.

Certainly, she had said something.

Something that Danny was supposed to be listening to.

Oh, shit. 

"Uh..." Danny tried to re-circuit his brain.

"Here, follow my lead. Okay? Breathe," she said. "Good. Now, tighten your abs."

Danny tried his best to follow.

"No, see, you're sucking in. Tightening your abs doesn't mean sucking in. It's like, okay, think of it this way. Try hardening your abs into a brick wall. Like, squeeze them together. Now—yeah, like that. Now, can you try adding your side and lower back into that brick wall too?"

"Try adding what?"

The corners of Valerie's lip twitched up. "The sides of your stomach? You have abs there too. And there are muscles in your lower back. That's all part of your core too. Remember what I said about your core's job to keep your body stable? Those muscles are all important for that."

"Valerie, I think you're really overestimating how in shape I am. I didn't even know there was more than one ab muscle, much less that there were abs on the sides of my body."

"Well, you have them, ghost boy."

"Doesn't help much if I can't feel them."

Valerie rolled her eyes. "Well, just try your best."

"Yes, Ma'am." Danny did his best to follow her lead while also struggling to ignore the fact that her hand was still on his stomach. 

He was so glad Tucker wasn't here to see his face. He could only hope that Valerie had come to the conclusion that the redness he could feel burning from his cheeks was proof that he was way more out of shape than she thought he was. That was still pretty embarrassing, and likely not even all wrong, but he would take it over the truth.

"Okay, now reset your shoulders. Stop hunching so much," she said.

"But the bar feels weird," Danny defended.

"Yeah, yeah, you'll get used to it. Stop looking down so much. You want your spine to be straight."

"I know." 

Half of what Valerie had been telling him for the past week was to straighten his spine. He couldn't help it if his back was a visual representation of his many years of late-night gaming. 

"Okay, now squat down." She leaned forward, and her dark eyes were just inches from his own. "No—look at me the whole time. Don't drop your eyes to your feet."

Oh, his face was burning burning now.

He slowly lowered his body, focusing on staying balanced as best as he could. Having a bar on his back was still a new sensation, and Valerie was refusing to let him load any weight onto it. Apparently, everyone started from an empty bar until they got the hang of the motion. Danny wasn't sure if that was something Valerie was just saying to be nice to him, or if that was actually true. 

He did try asking, and she just got offended that he would dare think so low of her that she would lie about something gym-related, and then she told him to stop screwing around and focus on the exercise.

So, it was fifty-fifty at this point.

"Keep going down," Valerie instructed, stepping back and thankfully removing her hand from him in the process.

Seriously, that had been the longest several seconds of his entire life and half-life combined.

"But I thought you weren't supposed to go past ninety degrees or something?" Danny asked from his invisible chair-like position in his squat.

"No, that's a lie. I think they just tell that to people who have butt-wink or bad mobility or something."

"The hell is butt-wink? See, now I just think you're making stuff up."

"I'm not! It's actually something you're doing right now." Valerie pointed at him in the mirror. "See how your pelvis is tucking in and curving your lower back? That's butt-wink." She moved to stand next to him and lowered down in a squat. "See my lower back? It's straight. This is how you want to be."

Danny wasn't aware that working out would just give him more things to be self-conscious about. He tried to straighten his lower back, but it was almost impossible to do so without feeling like he was going to fall on his ass. "Okay, then how do I fix that?"

"Well, I'm not exactly a doctor, so I'm sure it could be caused by a few different things. But the most common one I've heard is that butt wink happens when your core is shit. But it could also just as likely be an ankle and hip flexibility issue too."

Danny rolled his eyes. "As we've established, my core is shit. And I'm not flexible at all. "

"Yeah, I know," Valerie lamented. "I can't believe you've been fighting as Phantom for all these years and you haven't gone to the gym even once. Isn't Sam really into working out or something? Why didn't you ask to be her gym buddy?"

"Because I value my life." Danny paused. "My half-life, whatever. Tucker worked out with her once to prepare for the President's fitness test they did freshmen year, and I didn't stop hearing about it for months. She's ruthless."

"You know what, I believe that."

"Yup," Danny grunted, lowering to do another squat.

Two down, about five million more to go.

People actually enjoyed lifting weights? They came to the gym willingly? As in, of their own volition?

They seriously sweated and lifted heavy objects in a room surrounded by a bunch of equally sweaty, smelly strangers who were lifting other objects? 

And they thought it was fun?

That seemed absurd.

Valerie scrunched her nose at him.

"What?" Danny asked, his voice teetering past the line between speaking normally and whining, but he was far too exhausted to care. "Why are you looking at me like that? What am I doing wrong now?"

"No, it's just—" Valerie tilted her head. "Try widening your stance more. And maybe try pointing your toes out a little bit. That should help with your form. I mean, ideally, your ankle mobility would be better, but given it's pretty shit right now, this might be the best fix."

"God, I'm hopeless. Just give me the word and I'll leave."

"Oh, stop. You're not hopeless. You just need to stretch more. And train more."

Danny shuffled his feet and bent down into another squat. Having a wider stand did make the squat feel easier, but he wasn't about to admit that to her. "No, I am definitely hopeless. It'll be a blow to my ego, but I think I can emotionally recover if I leave the gym right now."

Valerie punched his arm, though it had no real power to it. She'd long since stopped legitimately trying to hurt him. 

Nevertheless, he would have sooner let Skulker capture him than pass up an opportunity to verbally torment Valerie. "Wow, I can't believe my ally is trying to beat me up and murder me in public. Especially while I'm trying to better myself in the gym."

"Oh, shut up." Although she tried to look angry, Danny could see the corners of her lips quirk into a smile. "Alright, your form is looking a lot better. It's still not perfect, but it's way better than when we started."

"Thank god."

"Maybe in a few weeks we can start adding plates."

A few weeks?

He must have let his internal expression show, because she once again snapped with, "It's normal for people to only squat the bar when they first start. It's way more important to get proper form than to lift heavy. You see that guy over there?"

She nodded across the room at a man doing chest presses. He was using weights that Danny could only dream of, pumping them up and down with a confidence that Danny was sure rivaled even Dash.

So the man looked alright to Danny, but apparently, that was the wrong conclusion to come to, if Valerie's critical eye was any judge.

"See how his elbows are basically straight out from his body? And see how he's not extending his arms all the way when he presses? He's rushing through the exercise. It's bad form, and while it may feel cool to lift heavy, bulky weights, if you can't even do the exercise properly, you just end up looking like a fool." She turned back to him. "Remember, you're in a gym. That means you're surrounded by people who have been doing this shit for years. Trust me when I say you're not going to impress anyone by rushing through the exercises to try to look cool."

"Aye-aye, captain."

It wasn't like he was going to impress anyone with the way he was wobbling while attempting to squat the naked bar, anyway.

"Alright, that's enough of a rest, I think. This time, let's actually do eight reps."

"Literal torture."

"Keep the whining up, and I might just call my blaster out."

Danny could see it in her eyes that she wasn't joking.

And so, he began.

****

[read more of my fics here]

[feyascorner]

3 | The Fangs Between Us

summary. You hate him, you think. You want to hate him, at the very least.

“Are you afraid I’ll hurt you?” he asks, his expression indecipherable. “I didn’t realize the great savior of the city could be afraid of a mere vampire spawn.”

“You did try to strangle me last time we spoke."

warnings. angst, comfort, slow burn, reader is a bard, large chunks of italicized texts are flashbacks

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

parts. TFBU masterlist

a/n. redemption arc is coming i swear :) this is a whopping 4.7k i got kinda carried away but oh well,, Thank you so much for your comments on these they make my day and i appreciate each one<3

Dance upon the stars tonight

Smile and pain will fade away

“And what might our dear bard be working so passionately on?”

You look up from your notebook, ceasing the messy scribbling of lyrics into its tattered pages. Astarion perches himself beside you, the flames of the campfire flickering in the reflection of his eyes as you stop humming and raise a cautious brow. A vampire spawn. You’d never seen one in person–-only had you heard of them in your childhood tales of the spawn that would sweep away naughty children if they didn’t finish their vegetables. Up close, you can almost see his fangs protruding from the grin he's constantly wearing.

You wonder if it’s a genuine one.

“That bard at the grove today,” you recall. “Alfira? I’m trying to finish the lyrics and write them out for her.”

“Is that so? Surely you’re receiving some sort of payment for these gracious services?”

You train your eyes back onto the pages, shaking your head. “I’m doing this for fun. Her song is beautiful. It just needs—” you squint. “--adjustment.”

He laughs, and you can see the fangs clearly now. They’re sharper than you expected them to be. “I believe that’s a drastic understatement, my dear. My heart felt for those poor squirrels. I’m quite willing to bet that they have an aversion to bards now.”

“And you’re suddenly a musician yourself?”

“It doesn’t take a musician to recognize poor singing, darling Tav,” he returns. “And considering I’ve spent the past few days listening to your music, I’m sure you’ll understand why I considered it such an abomination.”

You narrow your eyes. “I thought you didn’t like me–or my music.”

“You? I'm still deciding,” he shrugs and you roll your eyes. “But I must say that I’m growing rather fond of that lyre of yours. Have you had it for long?”

You give him a sidelong glance before answering slowly. “I’ve had it for ages. Practically when I just started.”

“Explains itself then, I suppose.”

“And you?” you watch as he leans back on his palms. “Do you have any other talents to offer to our companions, or is it just your teeth?”

“Now, don’t be so cruel, dear,” he smiles wider. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re rather fond of them as well. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you staring all the time.”

“I’m on guard,” you clarify.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

You’re not sure if you can sleep with one eye open, much less both of them closed. You’re not sure if you trust him at all, either, but as he stares up at the starry sky, simply listening to the crackling of the campfire, you decide you’d rather save yourself the energy for what awaits tomorrow.

“Why did you do that earlier?” you find yourself asking, and he replies by glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

“Do what?”

“Save Wyll from that goblin arrow,” you mumble. “I thought you didn't care about any of us.”

“And what gives you that impression?”

You deadpan, staring at him with lidded eyes and he laughs out loud. It sounds more genuine than anything else he’s offered so far. It's nice.

“It’s a simple transaction, dear. One where I receive protection in turn for the occasional aid I can give with my own blade.”

You squint at him, but you see no signs of deception. So instead, you simply nod and resume scribbling into your notebook, softly humming to yourself alongside the lyrics. And when you halt, stuck on a particular lyric that you can’t seem to remember, you hear him shift, standing himself back up to retreat to his tent.

“Something about faith and care comes next if my memory serves,” is all he says before striding away. While you watch him in confusion, you click your tongue and try to focus again. And when you look down at your page, you remember the rest of the words.

Somehow, you feel the corners of your lips lift.

“As much as I’d love for this to be a charming, long-awaited reunion, one of the parties imposes a danger to the other.”

You wince at the sarcasm dripping from Gale’s voice. Duke Ravengard’s expression remains solemn, unmoving like a stone, while your companion pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “We can’t harbor a vampire spawn in our home. We’re supposed to be finding them, not keeping them!”

You hate the irony of the statement because the camp you’d spent so many months in with an uninvited guest in your head, had also been your home. One where you spent your nights in a vampire spawn’s tent. It’s not so different, you keep telling yourself. But you’re painfully aware that the Duke only knows a sugar-coated version of the falling out between you and said vampire. He doesn’t know how his son had to tear Astarion away from you and how your voice had been sore for weeks afterward.

“As much as I have my own opinions with allying with a vampire spawn,” the Duke stares at Astarion warningly. “Wyll did say this spawn saved his life while your party ventured together. For that, I'm willing to see reason if he’s cooperative, rather than restrain him with the Fists.”

You never thought much of it until now. With how many life threatening experiences you and your companions had come across, it felt natural to save one another. At first, it had been out of necessity—fear that one person would turn into an illithid. Yet, with time, you'd all grown fond of each other, one way or another.

You think back to when Astarion had saved Wyll and wonder if that part of him is still in there. Maybe it was never there at all. Maybe it had been another one of his manipulation tactics that you're so prone to falling for.

Gods, you're hopeless.

The wizard standing beside you sighs irritably. “But that was before he tried to squeeze the life out of-”

“How long do we need to keep him?”

Gale balks at your words. “You can’t seriously be considering this.”

“Just until we’re able to locate the rest of the spawns spread throughout the city, which you kindly decided not to mention in our last conversation.”

You shoot Gale a glare, silently questioning if he’d been the one to confess the existence of the spawns underground, but he’s too busy scanning over Astarion, who’s mindlessly fidgeting with his knife. The said spawn seems to feel your gaze, because he glances at you, then grins.

The bastard is smiling.

“The man you killed this morning is a spawn himself, yes?” the Duke clarifies. “There have been numerous reports the past few days about strange figures with fangs throughout the city—I’d known they’d existed, but to the numbers that are being reported…”

“You couldn’t have possibly believed myself to be the only spawn around?” Astarion laughs bitterly. “I do not wish to go hungry, Duke, but I don’t need nearly as many bodies that’s been showing up—assuming that I did drink from anyone, of course.”

Ravengard ignores him, speaking as if he’s not there. “I could still have him detained if that is what you wish. We can continue as we have and search for the spawn without his help.”

You know it’s a fruitless effort if last night has told you anything.

“You don’t even have evidence that I drank from a single person in this entire bloody city!” Astarion spits back, rolling his neck in exasperation.

“No,” you purse your lips, finally looking up. “I’ll be responsible for him.”

Gale clears his throat alarmingly. “Now, dear leader, let’s have a private conversation before we make any hasty decisions, yes? Surely, we don’t have to decide right this moment.”

And while you open your mouth to respond that no, you won’t have Astarion rot away in some gross cell, the Duke nods. “Very well.”

Gale pushes you to the corner of the room, with his face clearly paling in disbelief. “Please tell me you’re joking. You want someone who nearly strangled you to death sleeping in the room next to yours?”

“Ravengard wants us to find out where the other spawn are hiding, and the only lead we have is sitting right there,” you defend yourself. “Throwing Astarion into a dirty cell won’t do anything to convince him to help us.”

“The Duke doesn’t know what he did to you!”

“He doesn’t need to. Astarion’s made it very clear he’s not going to spill any information if the Duke is the one asking, and we need a lead. I nearly died last night, Gale. I want to avoid that if I can.”

His eyes soften just a bit, but it’s enough. With a loud sigh, he scrunches his nose. “And you’re sure you’re not doing this for more personal reasons?”

At this, you pause. Your eyes waver, and the look Gale gives you is almost soul-crushing if it weren’t for the fact that you feel like you’ve already hit rock bottom. You know this is not a good idea. You know that being so close to him again after so many months is not a good idea, especially when you’ve just finally begun your journey to forget him.

You curse the gods above for your luck.

The silence prompts Gale to speak. “I’ll tell the Duke we can’t involve ourselves in this.”

“Gale,” your voice almost cracks. “Please.”

He doesn’t want to agree, you can tell. Any sane person wouldn’t invite a bloodthirsty vampire spawn who’s willing to use his own hands to kill his so-called lover into their home. You want to think that you’re void of bias, but you know it’s a pathetic attempt to reassure yourself. Still, the expression on your face must be quite the sight because Gale takes one look, glances at Astarion, then slumps his shoulders. You’ve won.

You hadn’t even realized the door had been swung open, where your other companions had been standing, taking one look at Astarion then to you. While Gale wallows in his own defeat, you turn to the others, eyes glimmering with a kind of hope that they haven’t seen in months.

“Your judgment’s gotten us this far,” Shadowheart sighs. “We’d be fools not to trust it now.”

Lae’zel clicks her tongue. “My blade is ready to slit his throat if need be. Just command me, and I shall.”

“We aren’t going to try to kill him," you retort.

“It’s only right to return the favor."

Dinner is awkward. You’re finally getting to try Gale’s stew, but it’s hard to focus on the taste when all you can feel is the searing stare of the person sitting across from you. He only has a goblet of crimson liquid in the same shade as his eyes in front of him, and it remains untouched as he takes in the rest of the house.

“So,” Gale offers. “What have you been up to?”

It’s not much, but it’s better than sitting in complete silence.

“Wandering the streets at night, mostly. Oh, and murdering half the city, apparently,” Astarion lets out his usual high-pitched laugh at the end, and your fingers tighten around your spoon. Shadowheart glares at him through her lashes, and you think she may lunge at him any second. You want to think you wouldn't stop her.

You feel for her, really. Being the group’s cleric comes with its advantages but also with the unspoken burden of watching your companions in pain. She’d been the one to ensure Astarion hadn’t left long-lasting damage to your throat. She’d been the one to soothe your headaches and cast a sleeping spell on you in hopes it’ll allow you to rest longer than just a few hours. She’d also seen you nearly bleed out multiple times, one of which occurred mere hours ago.

The sudden scrape of Lae’zel’s chair being pushed back catches your attention. She stands, lifting her bowl with her. “The air here is suffocating. Sort out your differences before I sort them out for you.”

The rest of you collectively nod. She doesn’t say anything else before leaving the room.

“The room at the end of the hallway upstairs is yours,” Shadowheart says finally. “Don’t bother me if you need anything else.”

She stands up as well, leaving her bowl in the sink before pacing up the stairs to her own quarters.

Somehow, the atmosphere is even worse now. You don’t dare lift your eyes from your stew, and you honestly hope it explodes before you have to sit here and drink all of it in this silence. Gale, thankfully, does not leave. Instead, he sets down his utensil.

“I suggest we have a set of rules in place–for the sake of everyone occupying this home,” he clears his throat. You shoot him a questioning look, which he dusts off.

“Fine,” Astarion leans back in his chair, now swirling the goblet of blood in his hand. “What do you have in mind?”

“No drinking. From anyone here.”

You blink a few times, then hear Astarion hum in acknowledgment. “Shame. Though your blood was vile anyway.”

“And don’t cause any trouble. One of us will go with you when you need to drink, so you can hunt for whatever animal you prefer these days. Otherwise, unless we say so, you’ll remain here.”

“Why, this sounds almost identical to a prison. Looking for a job as a warden, Gale? A midlife crisis, perhaps. Does wizard life not suit you anymore?”

“It suits me plenty, thanks,” Gale snorts. “We’ll be out during the day to rebuild the city, so you’ll have to entertain yourself in your own room. Don’t touch anything—especially my stuff.”

Astarion grins. “That almost sounds like an invitation.”

The wizard then turns to you. “And you? Do you have any other rules you’d like to add?”

You finally lift your head from the stew, looking back and forth between the two before shaking your head while pushing your chair back. For someone who’d imagined aimlessly for months about seeing your former lover again, you can’t seem to look him in the eye for fear of what you might feel. “I’m going out.”

“I’m going to take that as a no.”

Wordlessly, you pace toward the door, refusing to look back to suppress the urge to sprint back into his arms. You don’t know what you were thinking just a few hours ago, but this was not going to end well. If you couldn’t manage a simple dinner sitting across from him, what could you manage?

You’re in such a rush that you forget to bring anything besides your wallet.

By the time you’re on your way back to the house hours later, you have a backpack shoved full of fabrics with nails and a hammer to go along with it. As you pass by the taverns, you hear music playing from inside, alongside a few cheers and what you can only assume to be a crash of chairs as people applaud. 

You can’t help but peer through the window as you walk past, where a bard merrily plays on his drum, lightening the mood of the entire tavern—even the bartender smiles along as he plays tunes you’ve heard a million times before. And while your hands itch for a lyre—to feel the string snap against your fingertips—you know no good will come of it. You’ll only sit before the instrument, your hands unable to find the emotions to exert in the form of notes. 

As you stare at the bard, you remind yourself you’ve long given up on that kind of life.

So instead, you continue your way to the Highberry’s home. When you knock on the door, a very weary Cora Highberry greets you with bags under her eyes, but a calm smile still stretching on her lips nonetheless. She steps out of the way, inviting you in, and you do so.

“You didn’t have to, dear,” she says as she takes a bag of the city’s finest fruits from your hands. “The neighbors have been oh so gracious to us. They’re helping the children so much, I couldn’t possibly ask for more.”

“I was just passing by, that’s all,” you offer. “I wanted to check on you since I left a bit abruptly last time.”

“Oh, dear, you know how to make a woman feel special. It’s been terrible, really. I haven’t gone so long with my husband in ages…” she laughs, wiping at her swollen eyes. “But we were an old couple anyways…I had some time to prepare my emotions. I just didn’t think he’d go like that.”

You nod as she hands you a mug of hot tea. “But never mind that. I’ve spent the past two weeks talking about nothing but myself, so I’m quite tired. What about you, dear?”

“Me?”

“You look like death themselves,” she frowns. “I’ve lived for quite long…I recognize that heartbroken face anywhere. Has something happened?”

The way she’s staring at you—it’s different than pity. You can’t quite identify it, but she smiles again. It’s not the kind of smile most people give you—not one of anticpation, not one of gratefulness, but just a regular, old smile. And it makes your shoulders untense just the slightest before they tense again. You take a swig of the tea, nearly burning your throat in the process as you set the mug down, splitting a pathetic smile. “No, I’m okay. Just--tired.”

Very, very tired. Not physically, no, but tired of the indecisiveness that is your heart.

Her face falls softly. “How troubling it must be to have the weight of the city on your shoulders."

Before you can answer, there’s a loud thud upstairs. She notices your alarm and shakes her head. “Ah, must be Berry. She’s one of the younger children, and she’s been taking my husband’s death quite hard. Please excuse me, dear. I need to go put her back to sleep.”

And with that, you’re left alone on the first floor of the building again. You contemplate staying to say your farewells but the cries from upstairs convince you otherwise. Taking one last swig from the mug, you gather your things and leave.

When you get back home, it’s well into the night, an hour or two after midnight, you’d think. None of the lights are on, so the first thing you do is light a candle when you step through the door, dropping your backpack onto the dining room table. Dunking all your materials out, you take the hammer and start your work.

There’s something soothing about the darkness outside, with the way nothing seems to exist besides you and your own thoughts in a city that overflows with a sense of community. You try not to think about the man most likely reading in his room just a floor above you and focus on hanging the fabrics in front of all of the windows. The cloths are mismatched in color, and your hammer work is nothing more than sufficient, but it’ll do for now. At least until you can get actual curtains installed.

You worry that some of the fabrics aren’t thick enough to absorb all the sunlight, so you layer another fabric on top of it until you’re sure that even your candlelight cannot be seen from outside. Why you’re going so far for him, you do not know. You prefer to assure yourself that you need him to help stop the spawn from devouring the entire city, but even in your own thoughts, it sounds like a lie.

You wonder if he cares nearly as much as you do. He probably doesn’t.

You hate him, you think for the millionth time today. You want to, at the very least.

You flinch when a splinter in the wooden wall splits your skin open, forming a drop of blood on your index finger. Curse the heavens above, nothing was going right today. You quickly reach for a towel but nearly jump when you hear his voice from the stairs. 

“You really need to stop with that habit of yours.”

You spin around, and he’s already at the foot of the stairs, reaching to grab a towel from the kitchen. But you’re faster, snatching it away and pressing it over your hand while he raises both his own, imitating a surrender of getting any closer. You can’t look at him in the eye—you don’t want to either. “What habit?”

“You’re speaking to me now?” he raises a brow, and you turn away again after shooting him a glare. “I’d thought you’d avoid me forever—scurrying off like a squirrel whenever I step into the room.”

You should avoid him forever. But the words don’t reach your tongue, and you choose to ignore him.

He doesn’t budge. “I meant bleeding around me.”

“What?”

“Every time I see you, you always seem to be bleeding.”

You frown at him. “Maybe you just prefer being around me when I’m bleeding.”

“You might be right." You think maybe he’s done with this painfully awkward conversation until you see him staring at the windows covered with random pieces of fabric, and suddenly, you feel embarrassment creep up your skin. You realize how bizarre your actions must appear in someone else’s eyes, staying up to the break of dawn so that he’ll be able to traverse someplace outside the confines of his own room…

It might make him think you care, and the worst part is that a part of you does.

“I hope you don’t expect me to thank you, darling.”

The nickname feels like a stab to your heart, haunting, even, but you do your best to brush it off.

“For what?” you manage to force out through clenched teeth.

“The cell they would’ve thrown me into is nothing different from trapping me in that room, I’m afraid,” he laughs bitterly, and you want to crawl into a hole from how cold his voice sounds. Distant. Like how he’d sounded the day you found him next to his nautiloid pod. “But I suppose I should be grateful for having a bed instead of having to spend my days rotting away on the dirty floor?”

You bite your bottom lip, brows furrowing. “I don't expect anything from you.”

But you do. Not quite an expectation, but a lingering wish that maybe you can heal. It's pathetic, even in your own eyes and surely everyone else's, but you can't be bothered to care.

It pisses you off a bit. How he seems perfectly unfazed while you continue to drown in your own feelings.

“Are you just here to taunt me, or is there a reason for this conversation?” you snap. This is not quite how you wanted your reunion to go.

He raises a brow. “Taunt you? I'm only answering questions you're afraid to ask.”

“I don't need to know anything about you,” you grit through your teeth. “You left my mind the second you abandoned us.”

What a poor, wishful lie.

“Ha!” It doesn't really sound like a laugh—more a scoff of disbelief. It's like he knows what you're thinking, and for a split second, it feels like there's a tadpole in your head again. “Of course you think I'm the villain of your precious heroic tale! Honestly darling, the irony just writes itself.”

You fight the urge to scowl, but you're not sure if you're successful. You find yourself gripping onto the towel harder, teeth clenched as your chest tightens just hearing his words. You truly hate that he seems to care less than you—it’s like he's not even taking you seriously.

And that damned nickname.

It feels like talking to the Astarion you first met—one who’s only intentions were to use you—but this time, you don't think it’s a mask. He doesn't want anything more from you. Only your own suffering from taking the power that would have made him untouchable.

“So tell me, dear, do you wish for me to grovel at your feet?”

Your eyes widen, and the term of endearment that once made your cheeks flush only makes you feel sick. “What?”

“Do you expect me to drop to my knees, begging for your forgiveness?” he says again, eerily composed while you struggle to come up with words. “Perhaps I would have if we were still staying in that camp. Put on a show, even."

You frown, setting your hammer down on the counter. “I’ve never made you grovel. I’ve never made you do anything.”

“Maybe not directly, no, you’re too kind of a soul to do so,” there’s venom lacing the words that feel nothing short of a lie. Somehow, he’s still smiling. “Instead, you made me beg for your help. You accepted—made it feel like I had a choice. Then tore it away just the same, in the cruelest way possible. Impressive, really. I didn't expect such dramatic sins from you.”

The way he looks at you, words dripping with sarcasm, makes you want to melt into the floor, ceasing to exist as a whole. But alas, you continue standing like a deer in headlights, unsure of how to respond. You look down to see the towel stained with your blood and inhale deeply, watching the dark sky lighten with daybreak through the window. “The sun’s rising.”

His smile drops, something foreign flickering in his eyes. He suddenly steps toward you, and as soon as he gets within two feet, you find yourself stepping backward, your fingers tightening around the hammer. You have no idea if you'd even be able to use it, but it's better than digging your nails into your palms.

It doesn't go unnoticed.

“Are you afraid I’ll hurt you?” he asks, his expression indecipherable. “I didn’t realize the great savior of the city could be afraid of a mere vampire spawn.”

You don't want to think he'd truly kill you. Not really, but your mind flashes back to the look in his eyes when he had his hands wrapped around your lifeline, and you grip the hammer tighter, heartbeat pounding impossibly fast.

“You did try to strangle me last time we spoke,” you mutter.

His lip twitches, and he steps back bitterly. You feel like you can breathe again.“Ah, yes, that.”

You swear your stomach drops to your feet at the mere suggestion he’d forgotten what haunts your nightmares every night, forcing you to lurch from your rest in a cold sweat, hands shaking, and having nobody to turn to for comfort. He couldn't be that cruel…could he? You want to scream at him, punch him, kick him, tell him he’s not being fair. You want to defend yourself, say that all you’ve ever wanted was for him to be safe, but even that feels like too much when he’s giving you so little.

“Very well, I’ll indulge you,” he grins again. You realize your time is running out, the sun beginning to peer out from the horizon. “Why did you assume responsibility for me? I can’t imagine why you’d want such a terrible foe in your life living right next door of your own sanctuary.”

For the city, you tell yourself. For Cora's husband and the poor victims drained off their life, all alone in the darkest corners of Baldur's Gate. “...I didn’t do it for you.”

He searches your face for something, his eyes narrowing. He's waiting for you to continue, but there's no more fuel in the tank, and now you just want to sleep for a very long time. You assume he comes up empty when the corners of his lips fall, and he turns to climb up the stairs. Sunlight hits your back as your eyes trail him in his steps, and it does nothing to warm how cold it feels in the room.

“That much I’m aware,” he stops his steps for a brief moment. You barely catch it, but it's there. “Terribly aware.”

And when he finally leaves, you bury your face into your hands.

"I'm nervous."

"What for?"

"What if the ascension goes wrong? Are you sure we should really be doing this, Astarion?"

He brushes your hair out of your face, cupping both your cheeks in his hands. "We'll be okay, my love. I will still be here, and so will you. I'll just finally have enough power to protect what I care about."

He sees the hesitance in your eyes and leans his forehead against yours. You melt into his touch, placing your hands atop his.

"So please, stand beside me for this," he pleads.

And despite the way your intuition screams at you otherwise, despite the way your very being begs you to pull away, you nod, sealing your fate.

"I'll be right here."

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[scribblesofagoonerr]

— buddy's first words | buddy & monkey: double the trouble

again... this headcannon which turned into a blurb has now turned into a small fic, cos' i could not make up my damn mind, so enjoy.

You remember the day that Buddy said her first word, she was just 12 months old and she was days away from turning 1.

It was much to your own disappointment, considering the bet you had in place and you were days away from winning it.

Of course little Buddy's first words wasn't anything that anybody expected like mama or ball, but instead it was something that Leah, especially, was absolutely over the moon about.

Even to this day it's something that the blonde still boasts about as she was convinced that is what Buddy said.

"Go Go!"

Buddy's innocent babbles while she sat in her bouncer where non the wiser to her of course, but it was definitely something that Leah, Jordan and you all made her look at her dumbfounded, shocked and in Monkey's case, annoyed, while they all sat and watched the Arsenal match on the TV.

"Wha?" Your the first one to break the silence, disheartened to realise that you had immediately lost out on the bet.

"Did she... Did she just... Did she just say her first word?" Leah's stuttering was an obvious giveaway from her shock to hear her little girl speak for the first time.

Jordan nodded slowly in agreement, "I... I think she did."

Neither of them could believe it.

You couldn't help but groan in faux annoyance, "Seriously, Bud? You couldn't have waited just a few more days," You huffed dramatically, catching the look that Leah was giving you, "Wha? We had a bet goin' on-- I was this close to winnin' it!"

Leah clicked her tongue in disapproval, "Are you serious, monkey?"

"I wanted to win!" You protested, letting out a small huff.

"Go Go!" Buddy squeals, jumping about in her bouncer as her eyes are set on the telly.

You huffed and rolled her eyes, "Oh there she goes again-- Wait! Hold on... Is she sayin' what I think she's sayin'?" Your eyes widened and your mouths' agape.

"Go Go?" Leah repeated in a murmur, furrowing her eyebrows in confusion as she sat stumped before the realisation hit her, "No way! She's saying Gooner!" She insisted.

"She did!" Your initial annoyance turned to excitement when you heard the blonde mention that.

Jordan chuckled and and shook her head, "No, no, babe-- I... I don't think she's saying that," She would love to admit that Buddy was saying that, but she wasn't too sure herself, "Babies say anything at this age, remember?"

"Nah!" Leah was quick to protest in disagreement, "She did, I swear that she did!" The blonde was determined that is what Buddy said.

"Le, babe," Jordan couldn't help but laugh even more in amusement, "I really don't think that... I don't think she was trying to say that."

Leah and Jordan both had different opinions about their baby's firs word, but of course Leah was less reluctant to listen as she was already scooping Buddy up out of her bouncer and peppering her face with kisses.

"Her first word. She said her first word!" Leah beamed a wide grin as she continues to pepper baby Buddy's face with kisses, "She said it... She did-- Our baby's first word is Gooner!"

"Le, no," Jordan still didn't a tgree with it so much.

"Oh you clever little girl! Don't listen to your mama, Buddy. You did say that, didn't you?" Leah continued to praise the 12 month old infant in her arms as she bounced her around slightly, "Your so clever, aren't you? Mummy's own little Gooner!"

Of course when Buddy started to speak more words, there have been many other other instances of slip ups where her sailor mouth has appeared one too many times.

9 times out of 10, it was your fault.

"Ah shit," You hissed in pain as you clumsily stubbed your toe on the edge of the sofa, completely unaware that baby Buddy was lay on her play mat and innocently playing with her toys, "God damn it, that hurt!" You grumbled.

"Shit," The quiet words slipped out of Buddy's mouth, but they were still loud enough for you to be able to hear it.

In that moment, you completely forgot about the pain in your toe when you spun around and looked at Buddy with widened eyes.

It was definitely heard, clear as day.

"No, no, no. Don't-- You can't repeat that!" Your quick to protest against Buddy repeating them words.

"Shit," Buddy repeated, louder.

You continued to shake your head in a state of panic, "No, no-- Oh god, I'm gonna get in so much trouble if Leah hears you say that!" You mumbled in realisation.

"Shit," Buddy still continued to repeat, it was like she knew what she was doing now.

"No, buddy, stop-- How about, uh... How about ball instead?" Your eyes darted over to the small plush football on the play mat, "Here, listen to me, ball... Easy, right?"

"Shit," Buddy said once again.

You groaned and placed your head in your hands, "Oh god, I'm completely toast." You definitely were in trouble if Leah walked into that room given any second, "Let's try it again, Bud? Ball. It's a ball!"

Your favourite little buddy did no more than give you a toothless smile before she babbled once again, "Shit."

It's there in that minute that you realise you really need to work on what you say around your favourite little buddy, or you'd end up in a deep trouble.

"Shit," Buddy repeated, smiling proud of herself and clapping her hands.

"Ah, fu... fudge," You quickly corrected yourself while you placed your head in your hands in despair, trying to figure out a way to try and get your favourite little buddy to not repeat that again.

© scribblesofagoonerr

[intoanotherworld23]

Body For Hire

Pairing: Reader x Bradley Bradshaw

Warnings: MATURE CONTENT NSFW 18+, this whole one shot is pure smut and sex

Summary: Bradley Bradshaw is the best bodyguard there is, and he proves to you exactly why he’s the best

Hearts, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated and encouraged! If you wish to be added to the tag list for Bradley/Miles please let me know and I’ll add you! Thank you guys so much! Enjoy! XOXO

"This is so wrong." Moaning as you bounced up and down on Bradley’s cock. "God this is wrong."

"That why your pussy is squeezing my cock so tightly." His tone mocking as he smirked up at you. "Cause this is so wrong."

"No it feels so fucking good." Whining as your hands gripped on his shoulder most likely drawing blood.

"Should have known you'd crave my cock." His hands on your hips guiding your movements at the pace he wanted. "What would daddy think?"

"Seeing his daughter riding her body guard." He was teasing you making your cheeks heat up. "See what a true slut his daughter is."

"Shut up." Smiling at his teasing words making him chuckle.

"Not that I'm complaining about this at all." His eyes looked down to where you two were connected. "Could stay like this all day."

A part of you knew your father would be pissed if he found out you fucked your body guard. He specifically hired him to watch you, and make sure no harm came your way.

Then again you were already so close to cumming that you didn't care. All your mind was focused on was Bradley’s cock so deep you felt him in the pit of your stomach.

"Bradley please." Crying out as you felt the tip of his cock poking at your sweet spot making your toes curl.

Hearing you whine his name gave him the go to drive  his hips up wildly into you. Your whole body was shaking and moving along with him. Your head reeled back in ecstasy hands clawing at the leather seats. Your arousal was coating his cock making it easier for him to slide in and out of you.

"What sweetheart?" He looked up at you licking his lips watching your face unravel. "Tell me what you want."

"Say it." He commanded as his thrusts slowed down and his hand came down hard on your cheek. "Say what you want baby."

"Harder Bradley." Mumbling out as you started to grind your hips around his cock.

"God I should have fucked you sooner." Growling into the skin of your shoulder making your moan as he bit down. "Bet you touched yourself to the thought of me."

He wasn't completely lying when he said that though. Every time you were alone at night you would sneak your hands down, and touch yourself imagining it was him. Of course you weren't going to admit that to him.

"No." Lying as you started to move your hips up and down, but his hands were preventing you from moving.

"I don't like liars." His voice became darker making your pussy clench around him.

Before you know it his hands one after the other came down hard on your ass cheeks. Leaving a stinging feeling as you took with scrunching your face up in pain. He wasn't playing around with you right now. It turned you on a lot more than you expected.

"Mmm wanna change that answer." A hand reached up to grab your chin and make you look at him. "I'll let you cum if you do."

"Please Bradley." Begging him as you stared deep into his eyes too embarrassed to tell him the truth.

"Tell me the truth baby and I'll give you everything you want." His mouth reached forward to attach itself to your nipple.

"Oh god." Breathing out as your mouth hung open watching as he twirled his tongue around the nub.

"Fuck god yes I've touched myself to the thought of you."

"Good girl." He grinned before sharply thrusting his hips up making you gasp.

Wrapping your arms around his neck as he picked up the speed. Drilling into you so hard your entire body was turning into flames. Pressing your breasts close to his face feeling a wet tongue lick across. A shiver running up your spine as your senses became overwhelmed.

Whispering filthy and dirty things in your ear as you rode him. Your breath shaky every word he spoke, your pussy clenching every time he said something. Mouth wide open so overcome with pleasure that no sounds could come out.

"So desperate for my cock aren't you." It was a condescending question, but right now you didn't care. "Have you begging for it."

"Want to feel that delicious cunt of yours squeeze my cock." Groaning into your chest his hands coming down on your ass making them jiggle.

His cock hit your sweet spot making you scream. Finding that spot he was relentless and continued to hit it over and over again. His hands gripped onto your hips so hard they would probably bruise.

"Fuck Bradley right there keep going." You mewled closing your eyes.

"Cum all over my cock baby." He snarled into your skin holding your body even closer to his trying to hit up into an angle that would have you seeing stars.

Your toes were curling and you could feel your pussy walls squeezing the life out of his cock as you released. A couple more thrusts and Bradley was squirting his cum inside you. Your head leaned forward on his shoulder trying to catch your breath.

Bradley’s forehead was drenched in sweat and his arms were shaking still holding your trembling body. Both of you still trying to cum down from your intense high.

"Now I know why your father is so protective of you." He joked as he pressed his forehead against your collarbones.

"Thanks I guess." Scrunching your eyebrows at him with a smile making him laugh.

“I wouldn’t mind doing that again.”

“Well you know what they say practice makes perfect.” Biting your bottom lip seductively.

Just as Bradley was about to lean forward to kiss your lips a loud knock came from the door. Both your attention turning towards the sound in a sense of panic. Feeling terrified even more when you heard that familiar voice.

"Sweetheart everything alright?" Your fathers voice rang on the other side making you and Bradley look to each other.

“Yeah everything’s okay. Why?” Voice out of breath and hoarse.

"I heard screaming."

[scary-lasagna]

Hi! Could we get more of the creeps bumping into someone they used to know before their incidents?? I love your blog thank you!!

Decided to go a negative route for this one to make it spicy

tw: bullying, trauma mention,

Toby

He tried so hard.

Even after the double take, he still wasn't sure about the man five feet away from him.

But he still smelled the same, that irritating wet-dog smell mixed with a shitty watered-down body spray.

Toby balled his fists, attempting to focus on the words of the shirt in front of him.

Standing in line at the bank was not where he expected his next breakdown, yet here we are. He wasn't even in his hometown; he was a few cities west of his origin.

Toby was mentally prepared to glance at a few familiar faces, but never the main culprit of the Devil of his school years.

With the stress of the situation, his medication seemed to nullify, and a quick snap of his neck caused a few heads to turn toward him.

Toby's cheeks burned, and he glared at the marble flooring.

"Ticci Toby?"

Fuck.

Toby tightened his jaw and slowly looked over to the man in the next line over, a redhead with dirt clinging to his oily skin, along with that same spotty beard Toby remembered from his school-days.

Then again, Toby probably didn't look his best after work either, with sweat still clinging to his bangs and dirty, non-bank-worthy clothes.

"Rick." Toby managed a cringeworthy grimace of a smile, "How have you been?"

At the moment, Toby felt like that pathetic excuse for a teenager again. A pathetic excuse for a human.

The memories of being shoved against lockers and brick walls and returning home with more bruises than he cared about resurfaced in waves of pain.

"I've been good. Been working." Rick nodded. He sniffed and glanced away, "You disappeared off the map, everyone thought you killed your dad and died in the fire."

What a fucking opener for small talk.

"He was not my Dad," Toby said curtly. And I'm still alive." However, Toby definitely wished he wasn't at that moment.

The pain of embarrassment and uncomfortableness was enough to make the brunette keel over.

"I bet you wished Lyra was still here after all of that, huh?"

A beat passed, and despite how hard Toby glared at the man in front of him, the line did not budge. Rick continued to stare at Toby.

"You think you're too good to talk to me now?"

Toby breathed. He sighed and rolled his neck.

A verbal tic followed closely after, at the best moment to call Rick a Cunt.

Whatever manilla folder Rick held dropped from his hands and dully fell against the marble.

Toby allowed himself to react out of pure fear and instinct, punching Rick directly in the jaw before he could even lay hands on him.

And, with Toby being much stronger now as a grown man, Rick was not expecting such a hit. The pressure radiated from his jaw and rebounded to whatever brain cells were left in his empty skull.

Toby didn't know what happened between that moment and when he was running from security guards and into the nearest wooded area.

But his hands were covered in blood, and his knuckles had been scraped open.

After returning home, he apologized to Slender for not depositing the check and decided not to speak of anything else.

[fuck1ng-queen]

Better than the series

Noah Sebastian x Reader 

Rating: 18+

Warnings: light discussion, you being a bit shitty, jealousy, oral sex, Noah using that damn mustache

Author comments: hi bestiessss, how are you? if you follow me, you may have seen a post i made about mustache!noah a few days ago and honestly, i didn't think that post would get so many notes (which makes me think that mustache!noah is something everyone is interested in). anyway, i'm going to hell for thinking about noah like that and i'm taking all of you with me, kisses!

"It was great, guys! Thank you so much! See you next week!" You said, pretending not to be so enthusiastic.

You finished your work and lowered the screen of your laptop with excitement. Friday afternoons were always full of expectations. The daily stress of adult life kept you away from your boyfriend much more than you would have liked, so the closer Friday night, the sacred moment for both of you, got, the more butterflies danced in your stomach. Of course, you weren't a little girl anymore, and you weren't in the "getting to know him" stage, but damn, when you realized who you were dating, it was hard not to feel like jelly.

You took a quick but strategically effective shower, dressed comfortably, perfumed your hair with Noah's favorite scent, and quickly ordered a car to be there as soon as possible.

With a backpack on your back and a smile on your face, you arrived ready for your special evening with Noah. It didn't matter what you were going to do, what mattered was that you were together. The door opened and he greeted you with a warm hug and a kiss before you snuggled down on the couch. How good it was to be with him, you felt as if the week hadn't passed you by, as if being in the warmth of his arms dissolved all the pain and worry in your life. You just wanted time to freeze so you could stay there forever, just you and him.

"I counted the minutes until today. Our Fridays are sacred, but some weeks are so exhausting that they make it even more special," you smiled and patted Noah's cheek. "What do you want to do today?"

He kissed your forehead, the mustache he had invented to keep on lately tickling you slightly and making you giggle.

"I love our Fridays too. But there's one thing… the guys are organizing a gaming session tonight," Noah replied.

You pulled away from his embrace a little, just for you to see him more clearly, blinking your eyes a few times in a row. "But today?" you asked, confused. "Noah, it's our night."

Noah scratched the back of his head, knowing his explanation wouldn't go over well, but he tried to explain himself anyway.

"It's Jay's birthday. He's alone at the exchange and we want to give a little joy to his day. I promise it won't take long."

You understand that Jay is alone and he misses his friends, especially Noah since they've known each other for so long, but you can't hide your frustration and immediately cross your arms in disappointment.

"You're always talking to them, we hardly have time for each other."

"But we're together every week, we see each other all the time, and Jay? Look at his side, the guy's all alone there. I bet you don't want to feel alone."

You stand up, getting off Noah's lap and reply, still frustrated, "Alone? That's how you're leaving me, alone. You should pay attention to me. It's Friday, Noah, our day!"

He stands up, and although you love that look on his face, his already closed face gets on your nerves. You hated it when Noah did that.

"Fuck, am I not here? I don't leave you alone, have I ever left you alone? I understand that today is our day, I really do, but you could put yourself in other people's shoes a little," Noah sighs, trying not to be a jerk and get into an argument with you. He thinks of better words to say to you before he continues. "He needs it today, he's been feeling very lonely lately."

You exchange glances: from his side, the silent plea for you not to be as angry as you already seem to be; from yours, the growing tension and frustration. You sigh, not wanting to start a fight, but feeling deeply annoyed.

"Fine," you just give in, seriously. "But I'm not happy about it."

Noah kisses your lips and only replies, "I promise it'll be quick. You can stay in the room with me while I play, I don't want you to feel left out."

You enter the room together, but the atmosphere is still charged. Noah begins to set up the computer for the game while you sit on the bed, trying to hide your disappointment.

"Gotta call Emma so we can watch something on call. At least that way I won't be totally left out and I'll have someone to talk to."

"Sure, good idea. Just don't be too mean to the character on the show," he replies absent-mindedly, but trying to be nice.

"Don't worry, he'll have all our attention," you reply, giving him a cynical smile.

Noah nods, a little relieved, as you pick up the phone to call your friend. He sits down in his gaming chair, turning on the neon light in the room, and off the regular bedroom light to make the room comfortable for both of you. He adjusts the headset to start while you lie on the bed fiddling with your cell phone, clearly uncomfortable with the situation.

"Okay, guys, I'm here. Let's get started before Jay shows up."

You call your friend, and she somehow comes over to keep you company. You sit down on the bed with your laptop next to you and start watching the show. Noah, next to you, remains focused on the game, occasionally casting a furtive glance at you. A scene begins, highlighting the show's main character. He's handsome, wearing a shirt that, despite its formal appearance, is brightly colored and has some of its buttons undone, tight jeans, and aviator glasses that hide his deep brown eyes. But what really catches the eye is his distinctive mustache.

"Look at that man, that mustache is quite a sight," Emma jokes, her voice electronically present in the room. "This guy definitely knows how to use it to his advantage."

Noah, between the music playing and the laughter of his friends, hears you both burst out laughing, the sound echoing around the room, and he makes a point of very discreetly removing one side of the headset from his ear, curious to know why you're laughing.

"The mustache is like… a sign of confidence. I bet he must be amazing in bed."

"Totally! Do you think he's good in bed just because he has a mustache?"

"Absolutely! He must know exactly how to use it. Just think, a guy with a mustache like that must have tricks we can't even dream of."

Noah finds himself increasingly interested in the conversation and can't help but mute the sound of his headphones, trying his best to pay attention, one eyebrow raised in excitement to know how far your conversation is going, and just pretend to play.

"It must be the kind that takes your breath away in seconds," you say, unaware that Noah is listening. "The kind that knows what they're doing, the kind that's… experienced."

"A lot more than most. If a guy with a mustache like that paid attention to me, I wouldn't care about anything else, I'd just need him and a glass of water to live."

You laugh at Emma's comment, but then you look at Noah out of the corner of your eye and become serious again. "Yes, but some people prefer to play."

Noah continues with his temporarily forgotten game, pretending not to be hearing, but his expression with his back to you shows that he heard every word you said. "To play, huh?" He just moves his lips, speaking silently.

The conversation between you continues, full of laughter and bold comments about the character on the show. Noah keeps the microphone muted for long moments, discreetly observing the interaction.

The show ends and Emma says goodbye to you. Your phone vibrates with a message from your friend:

"It was fun, but I'm going to leave you to sort things out. Good luck!"

You reply with a few words: "Thanks. See you, Emma."

You get into bed, feeling a little better for the laughs with her, but still annoyed that Noah's game is taking longer than he promised.

"Good night, Noah," you say, turning your back on him, then mutter something inaudible, still slightly annoyed, but mostly frustrated. He should have at least warned you that the evening was going to be like this and that you'd be ready to do something else.

Noah doesn't answer, otherwise you might think he was listening the whole time. He sighs, knowing it will take an extra effort to get your attention again.

(…)

The night stretches on and Noah finally shuts down his computer and takes off his headset. He looks at you lying on your back, and even though you're asleep, he knows that you're clearly distant. Without forgetting how you've been thinking about the man in the series, he laughs softly, touches his own mustache, and something in him is ignited.

He slowly moves closer, snuggling up to you under the covers, already pushing your hair aside to make room to kiss your neck, deliberately brushing his facial hair. You slowly stir from the tickle you feel and finally wake up when you feel Noah's big hand playing with the nipple of your breast under your clothes.

"Noah…" you sigh, still sleepy. "What are you doing?"

He keeps tracing long kisses down your neck, making you shiver, and in a low, teasing voice he says in your ear, "You think I'm not paying attention, don't you? Those comments about the guy on the show… Do you think he could make you feel that way?"

Your sleep begins to dissipate as he kisses you, making you sigh, feeling your resistance melt away.

"Did you hear that? I was just kidding…" You turn your face to find his almond eyes staring at you with desire, your ass beginning to feel his bulge growing behind you.

He pulls the blanket off you and turns you over on the bed, kneeling in front of you and pulling off your shorts and panties together. He pushes your legs apart and you moan softly, already completely surrendered to the moment.

"Kidding?" His laugh makes you throb. "I'm going to show you that I'm much better than any guy you see on TV."

And he dives between your legs, ready to taste you, but mostly to tease you. He kisses one side of your groin, then the other, making a point of brushing his facial hair against you, noticing how wet and thirsty it makes you.

"Noah… Please…" you moan, trying to move your hips closer to Noah's mouth. He smiles smugly and runs his tongue along your folds, which are throbbing with excitement.

He turns his attention to your clit, sucking and sucking, making everything hotter and wetter. The hairs on his mustache, which you had just imagined tickling you while watching the show, only made you feel more pleasure. Noah tastes you like a hungry man and brings you closer and closer to coming apart.

"Look at you, you tremble every time I run my mustache over that needy pussy… I don't think I'll be shaving anytime soon. Do you want me to shave, babe?" he asks, laughing and rubbing his nose against you.

"N-no Noah, I don't want you to…" and you moan as you feel two of his long fingers penetrating you, unable to finish the sentence. "Noah, please…"

He is relentless in the way he moves his fingers inside you, knowing every point of you, knowing exactly what to do to turn you on. Without much effort, he feels you clenching against his fingers, your thighs shaking in spasms, and he hears your voice break into a loud moan calling out to him as you cum hard in his mouth.

He pulls away from you and kneels in front of your still-spread legs to appreciate your throbbing folds and your flushed, orgasmic face. "You're such a silly girl sometimes." He smiles and runs his fingers, which were inside you moments before, through his own mustache and ends up sucking on his own fingers. "This is for you to learn to appreciate what you have."

And then he just gets up and leaves the room, laughing at the incredulous way you look at him, trying his best to maintain the idiotic character he's just created, even though he knows he'll be buried inside of you in a few minutes, making you cum a few more times to live up to your special Friday.

.

Masterlist | Send me an ask to join my taglist

@lacy1986 @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @kenjipepsi1 @chey-h @concretejunglefm

[astracora]

Masterlist

Corrupted Taxionna AU

The Godkiller The stained glass is cracked, and the multi-coloured lights dance across the floor and across the Godkiller's face. The Corruption of a God Their eyes roved over him for a moment, like he might be a meal, and damn him if he didn't fight the urge to let himself be. Focused Pain (NSFW) Gods and damn him, there is the song. Rough and sullied, but he notices some of the notes.

Ten Moments Fragments between Taxionna and Kieran on a long road and longer life.

One (Expectations) Two (Debate) Three (Wounds) Four (Despair) Five (Yearning) Six (Mistakes) Seven (Commitment) Eight (Imposter) Nine (Sickness) Ten (Family)

Lost Letters

One He knows what's in that letter like the back of his hand, much like he can recall the words on every single other one of these letters.

Euphoria

Quinn's Lament She cares for the man he is in the moment with her, and he hates that he allows her to believe that lie. Jealousy Guilt hits him, lighting his face in a soft orange glow. One he hopes is weak enough to be invisible to her in this light. Broken Robot No matter what he says, he cannot fix what he has done, and no matter how much he has changed… how much he has tried to change… The Bet "I am well aware of how a gamble works, Cipher, I just do not understand why we would make such a bet." Colours His heart aches and his fingers flex. "It's beautiful." He agrees, not entirely sure he means the view.

The Eternals

Fleeting Dream The two stand in the shadows, shielded from eyes, and he notes how much steadier they feel already. Dreams "I'm here, I'll always be right here. When you wake back up, I'll still be here." "I can never stop loving you." He can’t fight the returning smile, even if he wanted to. The light in their eyes is so compelling, he knows he’d follow them anywhere. "Can't we just have a romantic moment for once?" He grumbles as they duck round a pillar. Twirling his dagger round his hand, and looking out at the masked Godgiven. Fake Dating His hands are around their thighs, fingers digging into their skin, trying to hold them far enough away they can't tell the effect they're having. Wearing Each Other’s Clothes He wasn't aware he was possessive before he met them, but they spark a need for them to be his, and he theirs. Home He can picture them, home with their children, likely covered in paint from a new project. Eyes sparkling, teeth bared in a wide grin. Purring Sometimes they remind him of a large cat. They’re graceful, dangerous and fickle.

The Inquisition

"Why are you so nice to me?" It’s eaten away at what little they have left. The guilt, the loss, the fear, the chains around their throat and wrists…

Wyvern's Rest

Wake up They wish someone had warned them, that even if they never meant too, loving someone would shatter them a thousand times over.

Novus Theus

Scared He voiced it, voice trembling and words shaking. Fragile like they were made of glass already broken.

Character Exploration

Epona There are times when that realisation stings like a papercut, angry and bitter. They do miss it, they miss her. Leonidas A monster, to be forgotten and lost. Hidden in the shadows, surrounded by books, so that he might never hurt another person. Eden Her heart is often full, for she is lucky. She is alive, and she is happy. Surrounded by love, and adventure. Oisín He also knows it won't stop him, the next time the voices get loud and he needs them to stop. Gavroska A Drakonian with no wings, however, has no family, no loved ones, no one to return to. Croix He tells himself many lies and twisted truths in the darkness of night, when he holds her heart to his, as pain twists his gut. Adrien The bow is too heavy in his hand, though, and when his mother commands, it feels stitched to his skin. The Kitsune For now, however, they are content to watch. After all, there's still some blood to shed.

Love and Deepspace

A Mandated Holiday Break (Poly LADs, Sylus-Centric)

Chapter One Why Sylus doesn't send them messages in any normal way, they'll never understand. He enjoys phone calls, texts them constantly, but whenever he wants to be dramatic, in flies Mephisto with a letter or a note, on a blaze of feathers and metal. Chapter Two His steps falter, looking at you, hearing his name. So warm, so sweet, so perfect. As you drift back off, he is walks down halls that aren't long enough. Into his lair and to a place he can't be disturbed with you. Chapter Three Calmed and riled and fragile but so warm and safe. The feeling is chaotic and terrifying but if he could spend his life feeling it, his very very long life. That only you can end, and when you choose to, he hopes it's alongside yours. Chapter Four What dragon is not greedy? What dragon would not want his greatest treasure at his side always? Chapter Five He refuses to let you think he is not earnest. Never to lie, never to flatter. You will never doubt his affections, he promises. Chapter Six You smell like his last meal in every life. Like he could bite down and die happy, your blood in his mouth and your soul in his chest. Chapter Seven He's sure if he were better practiced in his emotions he'd cry. Instead he just encompasses you in his body, squeezing and holding and drowning in you. Chapter Eight If he wakes up tomorrow and you are not here, he will find you anywhere. He has done it before, and he will do it for the rest of time, because you are the one who sees him. Chapter Nine You bite his nose and then his neck, but there’s no venom in it. He becomes far too busy squeezing your legs and kissing, open mouthed up your neck, to really care either way. Chapter Ten Sylus isn't used to people touching him. If anyone does, it's often sharp, and jagged and with intent to harm or kill. No matter how far back he thinks, he's known very little contact that hasn't come at a price. Chapter Eleven You're so smug, wearing a smirk he knows is an impression of him. All canines. He loves you, irritable little kitten that you are, because you're as smart as you are curious. As feisty as you are gentle.

The Cat Curse - MC Edition (Poly LADs, Sylus-Centric)

Chapter 1 A dragon does not love lightly. Though you don't remember the depths he has gone to for you. This is an easy act of devotion. Chapter 2 He tilts your head to look at him, and presses his fingers against your closed lips. “If you want the mark to stay, you have to bite harder.” Chapter 3 You think about his hand clasping yours in front of the datura, pulling you back despite the deep pit of yearning in your heart to bury yourself amongst the bright red flowers.

One-Shots

The Morning After Sylus Qin is a greedy man. As gentle as he is starving, treating you like an oasis in a desert. It’s both a terrifying feeling and an incredibly thrilling one. Reckless Fool The snarl is unbidden and unfamiliar, like you’ve grown fangs, become a beast with scales and horns. Happy Newdawn Day (Poly!LADs!) You’d been decorating all morning. Flowers, bunting, balloons. Tables set up with food, drinks and an entire section set up with photobooth equipment and props. After all, you’d spent far too much of this year taking photos, what better way to commemorate the end of it. The Nightmare The beast moves, uncaring of you, through the remains of what had been your home. Through memories you'd wanted to cherish more than you had. Hunger You make the loveliest keen when he tastes your skin on his tongue. Soft and warm. He leaves his imprint on your neck, exhales against you, watches the trembling under his touch. EVER's Tool His eyes halt and hold on your form, there is no metal. He looks at the twisted carapace of a wanderer. Segmented into a limb, and long clawed fingers. Sylus feels as though he is staring at his own limb, long ago. When his claws could cut through your flesh with ease, and he could not feel the heat of your skin properly through his own. The Serpent and the Apple He comes out shaking as he smells you, a long drag over skin, before his tongue runs along the length of you. Tasting the blood on your skin, sending a traitor's shiver down your spine. Take Me Back to Eden (NSFW) He wants you to grow desperate when he leaves, to remind you that he is what matters, that he is where you belong. A withdrawal you can't tolerate because it is deep under your skin.

Turning Point (Poly!LADs - Pre-relationship)

Part One Sylus feels like he should be making notes, these people are the closest people to his kitten, other than the other hunters you're closest to. Every bit of information he has about you, builds that puzzle up, but he notices blood on the floor. Part Two You'd spent this whole time ignoring it, like if you ignore it, it won't turn into a monster and rip you apart. It sits there, silver metal and black leather. The urge to throw it doesn't come back, which surprises you. Part Three It is not just Zayne that tethers you to the hospital, it is the heart in your chest, the illness in your life, the injuries from your job, and now the prosthetic on the bench. Part Four He thinks about the trembling in your body, the tears that won't fall in your eyes. He is stuck. Xavier is stuck, like he's holding you under a meteor shower again. Shaking you. Part Five It is safe to say the crow is his least favourite. The one who grinds at him most, who plucks and pulls. Like a hook in his upper lip. He dreams of drowning the man… he would if the look in your eyes didn't stop him. Part Six His hand itches, the thorn wall is thick. He knows it will slice his hand open if he reaches through it. The pain would be worth it, just like every stab of his ice is worth the moments he protects your back. Part Seven You want them to know, you want to tell them that they are where you belong. You want to believe that with the dagger in your hand, you can protect it and them. A future where, even if it ends before you want, you will always cherish it. Part Eight It is measured, it is careful, and it is spoken on a tremble. Unused to vulnerability, wilfully shown. A wound on display, not hidden and kept under covers. No longer smothered under the bloody blanket, no longer trembling in the darkness.

Poly LADs Group Chat (Fluff unless stated otherwise)

Cookie Thief The Struggle of Cat Boys Cheater Dancing on Tables ft Simone + Tara Dog? Dog? Part 2 You good, Pipsqueak? (Pre Game) It's Cold!!! What are you hiding? (Pre Game) Robot Watch

Asks

Boys with Chronic Illness!MC

Headcanons (Poly!LADs)

Home Edition Social Edition

Saniwa #022 (Aru)

Choosing a Right Hand. 'Yamanbagiri Kunihiro has been assigned to Citadel #22-84-AX'. The Invasion - Chapter One As he falls, he sees them smile one more time… and the barrier falls. The Invasion - Chapter Two (Lost) But maybe the connection between Saniwa and Touken Danshi doesn’t work that way, maybe the breaking pain only goes one way. The Invasion - Chapter Three (Memories) There’s an armoured hand on their shoulder, they can see a small corner of dirty white fabric, but when they turn it's gone.

[owl-it-here]

I need an AU happening during the founding era where Tobirama and Izuna are doing suspicious things™, but like in Phineas and Ferb, every time someone wants to tell about it to Madara and Hashirama, the problem in question magically disappears or is dismissed by them as nonsense (an extra plus if Hashirama and Madara themselves cannot tell each other about their suspicions concerning the other one's brother)

something along the lines of:

Hashirama: Madara, why did you never tell me that Izuna is friends with the emperor! Madara: …, because they are not in a friendly relationship? Hashirama, frowns slightly: Then how does Izuna know that the Emperor has stomach problems after eating pork? Madara, after hesitation: He once mentioned that he gets along well with the palace medic…. Hashirama, satisfied enough with his explanation: Oh a medic! That's fortunate because I wanted to send him 15kg as a gift. Madara, in disbelief: You wanted to send 15kg of pork as a gift to the emperor! We would have come out as such cheapskates…. - - - Madara: I'm pretty sure your brother is trying to create a zombie. Hashirama, without a second thought: Impossible, the last time he did it was after the death of our last brother and he promised not to try to revive them again. Madara, not allowing himself to be knocked off track: But I saw him in the graveyard mumbling strange things…. Hashirama, smiling: Tobira’ said something earlier about expanding cemetery space and burial rights! You never told me that the Uchiha burn their dead! Madara: How was I supposed to tell you that when we were at war!

both chatter enough that they are unable to return to the original problem

random shinobi: Hashirama-sama, Madara-sama, it's Tobirama-sama and Izuna-sama again! Hashirama and Madara, simultaneously: Did something happened to them! Are they fighting again? Random shinobi, in fear: Not this time! But Tobirama-sama said they were going hunting together! Hashirama, happy: But that's good, they're finally starting to get along better! Madara, scoffing: Stop it, as much as it pains me to admit it they have been getting along for a while now - they're just strangely very expressive…. which is something I didn't expect from Tobiram exactly random shinobi, with a slight disbelief that their leaders still do not understand the relationship between their younger brothers: But the problem here is not that they do it as a pair! Just what they're doing together! The companion of a random shinobi, also a shinobi: They were talking about heading to confront Kyubi! Madara, scowling: I'm sure they just wanted to scare you because they knew you were eavesdropping! Izuna has been doing that since he was two! Hashirama, excited: Izuna too! Tobira as well! Hashirama, directing the words to their shinobi: Tobirama promised not to fight any of the tailed beasts. You have nothing to worry about! *changing the scene to Tobirama and Izuna standing in front of Kyubi* Tobirama and Izuna, at the same time: so we wanted to ask… Izuna, interrupting: because we have a bet! Tobirama, focused: Which came first the tailed beasts or the chakra? Kurama, wondering why these two shinobi latched onto him without a fight and are asking strange questions: ??? *Tobirama and Izuna had simply considered the chicken and egg problem and wanted to know the answer from a trusted source*

[morningsharksworld]

Oh my goodness I can't believe I didn't say this before but I just saw your piercings headcannon for Haz and oh man 😮‍💨 just THINKING of his dick piercings I'm weak. I'm imagining he's like "ye wanna see what else I got?" *wink wink nudge nudge* when talking about his piercings with him

Pin Cushion PT.1

Hazard x Reader [NSFW WARNING]

A/N: The amount of piercings that I put on this guy is insane he probably looks like a pin cushion, SHIT his pp also might look like a pin cushion. BUT AM I COMPLAINING???? No, not at all :], part 2 may be my first AO3 post.

Summary: you got curious about Hazards piercings…a little too curious…

“You’ve been starin' at me all night” he teased, one brow quirkin’. “Somethin' ye wanna get off yer chest?”

You hesitated, fiddlin’ with the hem of your shirt before blurting, “How many piercings do you even have?”

Hazard’s grin widened. “Aye, so that’s what ye’ve been wonderin' about, eh? Buckle up, Love. Ye’re aboot to get the full tour.”

He reached up to tap his ears first. “Let’s start simple. Got the lobes done when I was a wee bairn—thought it made me look tough.” He laughed, shakin’ his head. “Turns out I was just a wee punk wi’ bad decision-makin’ skills.”

Then, without hesitation, he added, “Oh, and I’ve got these too.” He pointed to his lower lip, where two piercings rested—snake bites. “These were more for fun than anything else. Bit o' a rebellious streak, y’know?” He grinned, the piercings catching the light.

You didn’t even get a chance to respond before he lifted his hand to the bridge of his nose. “And this one” he said, tapping the thin bar of metal across the bridge of his nose. “Thought it added a bit o' character. Not exactly comfortable, but it suits the vibe, right?”

Hazard let the information hang in the air for a moment before he tugged at the hem of his tank top, pullin’ it up just enough to expose his toned chest—and the metal glintin’ from his nipples. Your eyes widened, and he chuckled at yer reaction.

“These?” He grinned as he let the tank top fall back into place. “Bet gone wrong” He chuckled. “The piercin' part sucked, but they’re surprisingly fun. Just don’t yank on ‘em, or we’ll both be in trouble.”

Ye were still recoverin' from that reveal when he pulled down the waistband of his pants just a little, showin' off the piercings on either side of his hips. “Lost another bet for these” he admitted with a shrug. “Apparently, I’m really shite at poker. But hey, they add to my charm.”

Before ye could respond, he leaned closer, stickin' out his tongue. That’s when ye noticed it—split right doon the middle. He flicked one side, then the other, the movement so precise it left ye momentarily speechless. Then, ye caught sight of the piercin' glintin’ on one side of the split.

“This one?” He clicked the piercin' against his teeth, smirkin’ as yer jaw dropped. “Got the tongue split just for the hell of it. The piercin’? That’s just the cherry on top. People never expect both, but that’s kinda the point.”

Ye stared, yer words stuck in yer throat as he flicked his tongue again, the piercin' catchin’ the light.

“Oh, and ye missed these.” Hazard grinned, running his hand over his collarbone, and sure enough, there were two surface bars on either side, the metal gleaming under the light. “Got these a while back. Had a bit o' fun with the placement. Kinda a pain to heal, but totally worth it.”

Then, his eyes twinkled as he gave a mischievous smile. “Oh, and there’s one more thing I’ve never told ye about.” He leaned in closer, his voice low and teasing. “A Prince Albert. Ever heard o' it?”

You blinked, confused. “A… what?” You stammered, trying to make sense of what he had just said.

Hazard chuckled, clearly enjoying the confusion on your face. “A Prince Albert, mate. It’s… well, a bit much to explain here. But hey, if yer curious, I wouldn’t mind showin' it to ye later.” He winked, a playful smirk dancing on his lips.

Your face flushed as you quickly tried to move past it. “Uh… yeah, maybe later” you muttered, not quite sure how to respond.

=====

after lying awake thinking about what he’d said, you finally decided you couldn’t let it go. You knocked softly on Hazard’s bedroom door, your heart pounding with a mix of curiosity and nervousness.

“Who’s knockin’ at this hour?” Hazard called from inside, his voice muffled.

You swallowed hard. “It’s me” you replied, trying to sound casual. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

The door creaked open, and Hazard stood there with a raised eyebrow. “What’re ye doin' up this late, mate? Somethin' on yer mind?”

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. “I was thinkin' about what you said earlier” you started. “About the… Prince Albert thing.”

Hazard’s smirk returned immediately, and he leaned against the doorframe. “Oh? Ye finally curious, eh?”

Your face burned, but you pushed through, trying not to let the awkwardness get the best of you. “Yeah… uh, I was wondering… if ye wouldn’t mind showing it to me, like you said.”

Hazard’s grin widened, clearly amused. “Oh, ye want the full tour, huh?” He stepped back, gesturing for you to come in. “Alright, mate. If ye’re up for it, come on in.”

You stepped into Hazard’s room, feeling the weight of the moment settle in. The door clicked shut behind you, leaving the two of you alone in the dimly lit space. Hazard was still leaning against the doorframe, eyes sparkling with amusement as he watched you closely.

“So, ye really want to see it, then?” he teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You nodded, still unsure if you were entirely ready for this, but something about the casual way he was handling it made you feel a bit more at ease. "Yeah, you mentioned it earlier, and now I'm curious” you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt.

Hazard chuckled softly, the sound low and smooth. “Alright, love Just don’t blame me if it leaves ye a bit flustered, yeah?” He grinned, clearly enjoying the situation.

He walked over to the side of the room, pulling off his shirt and revealing the tattoos that lined his torso. With a quick, almost theatrical movement, he unbuttoned his pants just enough to reveal the piercing. You could see the faint outline of a small metal ring through the waistband of his boxers, but it was clear he was waiting for you to take the initiative.

“Go on then” he said with a wink, “Take a closer look.”

[weird-is-life]

if ur still taking requests, may i humbly ask for a very fluffy Steve Harrington x shy reader period imagine? maybe the reader is really in pain but is too shy to ask for help? and gets embarrassed but Steve is just an angel about it?

Hii, lovely🥰 thank you for this cute request, hope u like it! Warnings: mentions of food, period pain, pet names, fluff, (0.7k)

Steve isn't really thinking of what you might be doing this late Saturday night as he knocks on your door. He is so eager to see you.

You weren't supposed to be together today, because Steve had to work, and you said you didn't feel good. That you were ill.

Steve, the sweetheart he is, wanted to surprise you, and he also got you some stuff to make you feel better. Like a good soup that he absolutely thinks you're gonna love, some sweets, vitamins and so on.

He waits not so patiently for you to open the door, and for some reason it takes you a lot longer than it usually does.

You open the doors, and your eyes go wide, "Steve! Wh-What are you doing here?"

Steve just chuckles at you baffled expression," I wanted to surprise you, honey."

"Oh," you say, not particularly happy about that fact. Steve doesn't seem to notice it or maybe he just doesn't want to notice it.

"Exactly oh," he chuckles. Steve thinks you're going to open the door wider, so he can go inside, but you don't, "aren't you gonna let me in, sweetheart?"

"Stevie, I'm...I don't feel well," you shyly admit, still only peeking at him from behind the door. It looks like you are definitely not going to let him in.

"I know," he tells you softly," that's why I'm here. I came to take care of you. I brought a few movies as well, we can have a movie marathon. Before you say anything i want to state that I don't mind getting sick and....-"

"Steve," you interrupt his rambling. You look at him with pleading and shy eyes. "I'm not sick in-in that way. It's just....It's....I-"

You can't bring yourself to say it to him. Your shyness getting the best of you. You love Steve, but you are just too shy to admit that you're in pain, and that you'd love nothing more than for him to just hold you while you watch the movies.

"What is it?" Steve concerns. He pretty much ignores that you didn't want to open the wider, and comes inside, so he can instantly find out what's wrong.

"It's my....," you take a deep breath in, and tell him as your cheeks go red, "period pain."

Steve isn't expecting you to say that, but honestly he doesn't care that you are on your period. He only cares that you are in pain, and he wants to change that.

Steve gives you a bear hug," have you been in pain the whole day, sweetheart?"

"Yeah," you admit into his chest. You bury your whole face into his soft hoodie, enjoying the comfort and the warmth seeping from him.

"You could have called me earlier. I would have gladly come to take care of you, you know?" Steve kisses your temple.

"Didn't want to bother you," you murmur sheepishly. Cheeks even more red. You suddenly get a pretty bad period pain, wincing lightly.

Steve immediately pulls you away from his chest with sorry eyes," How about you go back to the couch while I heat up the soup I've brought you?"

"You've brought me soup?" You question.

"Of course, I have. I bet you haven't eaten much today, so go lay down, and I'll be right back." Steve gives you one more kiss on your cheek before he dissappears in your kitchen.

Steve comes back a few minutes later with the soup, and your forgotten heating pad you'd left in the kitchen. Because Steve came right at that moment as you were about to heat it back up.

"Here, sweetheart," he puts the soup on the coffee table," can you sit up for me?"

You sit up from your too comfy position on the couch, but your stomach rumbles at the sight of the soup. Steve carefully puts the heating pad over your lower tummy, and it's immediate relief.

"Thanks, Stevie," you smile brightly at him despite your pain.

Steve smiles back at you, and leans in to kiss your cheek again. You can't say that you aren't loving being doted on like this by him.

He always loves on you, but right now it's maybe just a tiny bit more than it is usually.

"Come on, eat your soup, and then you can have the cuddles and the movies I promised you." You eat as quickly as you can, eager to be in Steve's hands.

When you finally get the so much needed cuddle, the pain eases pretty much away just by Steve's gentle stroking over your side and tummy. And definitely from the constant pecks all over your face.

[myafterlifeisbetterthenyours]

Lewd Request:

Hey I was wondering if you could do a lewd Striker x male reader, something along the lines of the festival and the main character made a bet with striker he'd beat him but they lose so Striker has his way with him. Love your stories.

A bets a bet

You weren't particularly fond of the new field hand.

Sure, the man was good at his work.

He could shoot, and hunt and ride with the best of them, but something was... off.

Nobody was that good and that proud.

Of course, you couldn't say much, he may boast like a snakeoil salesman but like you'd said, he was as capable as any worker you'd ever had, if not more so.

And while you tried to ignore the man, much to your annoyance, he seemed to take a special liking to you.

The man often 'helping' you with chores, or coming along if you had to head into town.

His favourite was teasing you.

It started with a few comments here and there, teasing if you screwed something up, or had some issue or other.

Then it became general teasing and prodding, the man loving to get a rise out of you.

Though you could often get him back, the man usually either impressed or annoyed with your come bqcks, leaving you alone for a while.

Although, after a night of drinking with some of your siblings and farmhands.

Hed be teasing you, yet again, making some snarky comment on how often you got your dick wet, and after a few too many drinks and a serious lapse in judgement, you made an off handed comment on how if he wasn't such a prick, you probably would have been all over him.

And you immediately regretted it, cause that man perked up like a Hellhorse spotting a prime-rib.

After that, Striker only became more persistent.

It was never quite forceful enough for you to get creeper out. But he was certainly persistent. The sheer number of times he'd bitten his lower lip, giving you those playful "fuck me" eyes, was more then enough to haunt your dreams.

And while he could be a total pain in the ass, he was also really useful, so you put up with it, simply rolling your eyes when he made a less then subtle comment to you.

And you totally weren't into him.

Sure he was swave and confident and Very capable, and could probably ride you like he did bombproof-

Nope! You didn't think like that. No matter haw many times.

Or think about his skills with rope.

Mind drifting off to that one time he'd managed to tie you up, man sitting on your back as he practically purred in your ear.

Nope! None of that!

But, past all the flirting, you had a formidable rivalry.

Of course you always played it off.

You didn't care if he won some stupid race or could shoot something, or won some wrestling match. What do you care, not like a single win meant anything.

Unless you won.

In which case you felt like King of the Ring, and was sure to rub it in his face.

Until you lost a match of shooting, that bastard hitting one more can then you.

It was quite the roller-coaster.

At least for humble farm life.

Having been bested one time too many, you snapped, demanding a rematch.

At that he grew a wicked grin across his tanned facad, telling you he'd agree, buuut, if he won, he wanted something.

Hesitant, you'd ask what he wanted, the man moving forwards, arm on either side of you, pinning you to a fence, telling you smugly.

"A Kiss."

You, Red faced, woukd agree, telling him it wouldn't matter cause you'd win.

And you Aaaaallllmmmoooossssttt did.

Almost being the key and only word.

Hitting the last can, but failing to knock it off.

So, Striker, all smirks, strutted up, expecting a kiss.

And so, you gave him one.

Kissing his cheek.

Striker, cocked a brow, you telling him smugly.

"You wanted a kiss. Never said where you wanted it."

You spoke casually, taking your small victory in stride.

Though unfortunately, you set a precedence with that little incident, as after this, any time you competed, Striker managed to slip a bet in there.

Though none were as bold as the first one.

Usually little things. Making you call him sir or having you follow him around for a day.

And while it they were fairly innocent, if annoying, things, there was always a heavy sexual undertone.

He never stopped chasing you, he just chose a more... passive, method.

But, after a particularly hot night, you snuck out, ending up out in a field half naked, relaxing against a fence, enjoying what little breeze there was.

Of course, Striker would appear, he too half naked, man shirtless with only his hat and Ascot, the two of you just standing there for a while, in a peaceful silence as the breeze blew across the field.

After a while he'd finally pipe up, asking if you were gonna compete in the harvest moon games.

You'd hum, telling him you probably would, before asking why.

Striker, in an odd moment of seriousness stood there, peering at you with those ringed yellow eyes, the same ones that had haunted far too many of your dreams.

The man, turning to you, would ask if you wanna make a bet on it.

You, swallowing, would nod, telling him. 'Sure.'

So, getting off his fence, he walked over and in a surprising display of boldness would pin you to the fence, voice low, shimmer of his tail ringing out.

He wanted you.

He was sick of the games, the little bets, your 'rivalry', he was going all in, he wanted you.

So, if he won, he wanted you.

Standing there, chest to chest, the man peering intently into your eye.

You, red faced, blood rushing to the one place you didn't need it, would stand there.

And well, call it a weak will or your will being chipped away after so many months, or perhaps a large part of you wanted this all along, you agreed, telling him yes, may the best man win.

To which Striker smirked, chest to naked chest, leaning in and breathing hot in your ear.

"Don't worry... I will~"

And so, the next few days zipped by in the blink of the eye.

You didn't see Striker much, and when you did he usually just smirked, eyeing you in a fashion that always left you red faced, pants suddenly tightening.

And so, the day finally arrived. You and the family loading into the truck and rolling into town, Striker riding Bombproof besides you, the man giving you an occasion glance, you pretending you hadn't been staring.

The town was lively, and all the townsfolk were a flurry of activity, preparing to either join or enjoy the games.

You prepared as well, limbering, stretching, just getting ready.

Striker however, just stood there, leaning against a fencing, man chewing on a wheat stalk. The man occasionally glancing back at you.

You didn't say anything to him, not willing to let him mess with your mind any more.

Eventually, you got to the games.

You excelled.

As did Striked.

Both of you far surpassing the regular saps that participated.

You were faster, but Striker was more nimble.

Not evenly matched, but you certainly pushed yourself.

You both put in your best show, and it was a close fight, you working harder then you'd ever worked before, really pushing yourself to your limit.

And after pulling, jumping, running and wrestling. You fought, and bit, there being more than a few fatalities from each of you.

It was a tie!

Nah, Striker won.

Some asshole had just miscounted your score.

Striker won.

And hearing that, you just stood there.

It took a minute to sink in, and while you realised just what happened, Striker seemed to relish the news, bathing in the crowds applause.

A flurry of emotion hit you, your head seemingly spinning. But the most concerning part of it all was you weren't... you weren't upset.

You were a little annoyed, angry even at losing, but that felt more like being upset at losing the games.

Not the bet.

Striker, surprising you, didn't come up and boast. Instead he joined the crowd of adoring fans, the lot of them all heading off to celebrate.

So, knowing the fate before you, you joined, snatching a comedically large jug with 4 large Xs on the side, drinking at your pleasure.

Eventually you'd end up in the town bar, sipping your drink, you and Striker staring at each other from across the bar.

You refused to make the first move, yet as the minutes ticked by, you became restless, constantly looking back at the man.

The cowboy simply standing there, peering at you with that seductive little smile, sipping his own drink, seemingly content in his position.

You eventually grew tired of the waiting, and shotgunning your drink, you stormed over to the snake.

Of course, he wore that Victorious smirk of his, standing there as you approached.

You scowled, storming up to him, stopping just before him.

The man smiled, popping an olive into his mouth, giving you a royal shit eating grin.

You snorted, simply standing there.

You told him bluntly to get on with it then!

Striker just smirked, looking you over, the fucking snake was relishing this.

After a few minutes, he asked what ever could you mean? And so, snapping at him that he was an Ass, you grabbed the man, dragging the him upstairs.

Striker just went along with it, smirking as he finshed his drink, discarding the bottle as he stumbled upstairs.

Reaching some bedroom, you didn't care who's it was, you dragged the man towards the bed.

But before you could throw him onto it, he suddenly whipped out of your grasp, the man slipping his neckerchief and seamlessly binding your hands with them, tying them behind your back before throwing you onto the bed.

The man, slipping his jacket off, working on his shirt as his tail slammed the door shut, his eyes the only thing visible, that and his golden tooth as he smirked a victors smirk.

You lay there, red faced, drunk and extremely aroused as the man climbed atop you, the clink of his belt being undone and the shimmer of his tail filling the air as he lean, the snake getting close, alcohol ladened breath on your neck as he growlwd out.

"Don't worry darlin', I'll make sure you enjoy this as much as I will~"

The man purring before he bit your neck, forcing a lewd moan from your lips.

•••

You awoke the next morning a mess.

You were sore.

You had more bite marks and hand shaped bruises on your ass then you cared to count.

Your hair was a total mess, clothes in tatters after being practically torn off you by the snake, and you were still recovering physically and mentally from everything that happened the night before.

You hissed as Bombproof bumped upwards, you clinging to Striker, the man being your only ride back to the homestead as your family had left the night before.

You didn't say anything, neither did Striker, though, the snake didn't need too.

The man simply wore a smirk, that smirk saying it all.

"I won."

And the annoying part, that was he was right.

Though even as you got home, hissing as you slid off the horse, gritting your teeth as you shambled back to the house. All the way there, able to feel the snake's gaze on your back.

And while you knew he'd be insufferable after this, likwly even more forward then ever the thing that really got to you, was knowing that there was no way this was gonna be the last time.

And even as you stumbled, collapsing atop your bed, body and rear sore, you wondered what came next with that smug sexy asshat of a snake man.

[lillypad-monopoly]

Wild Life Episode 5 Thoughts

(Except I'm insane about Martyn's ep)

LIFE SERIES TRIVIA is DIABOLICAL! The watchers literally being like "how well do you guys know your pain and suffering?" (also sorry only winners remember theory truthers)

The way Grian and Scar are such bitter ex-soulmates that Mumbo has to point it out is hilarious. (also them getting even and saying "Just like Third Life" hurt my heart)

Grian not remembering iconic moments from his own series is so funny. What do you mean he only knows Martyn beheaded Ren with an axe from fanart? Grian gaining possession of the Red Winter Axe was a whole plot point.

MUMBO FIRST OUT! IN SESSION 5! The canary curse is broken for real now guys but at what cost.

Grian standing on the ruins of the tower by himself going through the five stages of grief over Mumbo's death as the sun rises in the background is a gorgeous piece of fanart waiting to happen

Martyn you didn't need to start the episode by talking about how Ren is providing for you, you're asking for the shipping at this point 🤣

MARTYN YOU DO THE LORE OFC JIMMY AND TANGO WERE OUT FIRST. Also REN YOU WERE LITERALLY IN DOUBLE LIFE. RIP Ren/BigB we know where his true loyalties lie

THE TWO NICKLES MEME BREAKING CONTAINMENT I CAN'T

Ren inviting BigB to join the RenWood Mound alliance WITHOUT REMEMBERING DOUBLE LIFE is so insane I don't even know what to say.

OF COURSE SCAR REMEMBERS THE DESERT DUO FLOWERS I'M GOING TO BE SICK

Martyn and Ren saying they're going to be boat bros. This has been coming since last session but I NEED Joel and Etho to call them out on it

"We're boat boys," MARTYN INTHELITTLEWOOD WHEN I CATCH YOU-

Etho yelling for Bdubs to hit him so they could test if the wildcard affected damage and then Tango going "smack me harder~" in the background was diabolical. Suuuure you guys are all PG.

Etho sitting in a boat for Joel to jump over him feels like some boat boys relationship symbolism I'm not smart enough to explain

So Etho is currently living with team BET, but allied with the Four Gs, and in the family with Gem and Joel. Wildcard Etho is so back!

Of course Impulse immediately remembered the clock question.

Joel boasting about how he immediately knows all the questions is peak Joel form and I would expect nothing less. It is kind of warranted though because everybody else is waffling on the simple ones.

Joel is now two for two on unquestioningly trusting Etho only to have something bad happen to him and not even being mad about it what is wrong with this man 😭

Does Joel have the censor bleep on his keyboard or did he just straight up start swearing at Tango and know they would both have to censor it in post to get the effect that he was also making the noise?

Scott's gone from a creaking fanboy to a body horror situation and I'm living for it (also considering he's agreed to "go wild" this session--am I sensing a Scott corruption arc?)

Scott cutting directly from saying he and Jimmy were never married even though they called each other husbands to a scene WITH Jimmy was kind of an insane choice

Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss Girldad has been confirmed by Scott as the actual reason for the 4Gs. I still think Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss ImpulseSV is funnier but good to have an official ruling

Scott giving up his life for Pearl and them being good natured about it and calling it therapy! I love them so much!

Lizzie being the only person who's not exicted when a trivia bot spawns is so funny. Even the other players who weren't in all the seasons don't seem to be as miffed by them as she is.

Lizzie's flaming snail arising out of that hole while smiling is potentially the funniest thing I've seen all day. Why did it look like that 🤣

[astonmartingf]

YOU'RE IN MY MIND, IM IN YOUR SHADOW ; FA14

fernando alonso x ferrari teammate! reader . . . after getting involved in a race accident with fernando, you're left with the repercussions of that crash

amgf accidents, crashes, and hospitals, it's just angst uhm yeah, it's angst, who compelled me to do this 😀🫵 literally no one ever but enjoy 👍 AHAHAHA. i bet you weren't expecting this but here you go

One blink and it all came crashing down.

Literally.

It all happens so fast, it's usually how it goes, one second you're trying to maneuver into a turn, the next you feel your teammates' front wing behind your back. And from then all you see was black.

"Miss LN? If you can hear us please blink your eyes." Wincing, you pull back from the glaring light in the room. Immediately the smell of antiseptic and bleach fills your nose, scrunching from the overwhelming scent wafting in the room.

You blink adjusting from the light, gulping at the dry feeling on the back of your throat, you don't attempt to talk. Closing your eyes, you shake your head, ignoring the questions as doctors and staff hover over your bed.

You knew better than to misbehave, it wasn't the doctor's fault, they were just doing their job, something you didn't do clearly as you got into a crash.

What a rookie mistake— you couldn't care less about the pulsating pain all over your body, knowing fully well they won't hurt as much as the blow of being dropped off by Ferrari.

You knew deep down they were going to choose him. Fernando Alonso, teammate, rival, lover.

Opening your eyes, you're greeted with fewer people in your room. Mainly your manager, physio, a few members from Ferrari, and Flavio Briatore. It only dawned on you what had happened.

You crashed onto Fernando Alonso, and right now his manager is in front of you. Just how long were you under? How much damage was done to the car? There were so many questions going through your head, mainly of Fernando, second of your career. What was going to happen after this?

"Where—" The dryness of your throat scratches back at you, coughing from the unexpected friction. You accept the bottle of water offered to you, it was only then you realized the sore and numb feeling of your body.

You gasp as the bottle slips from your fingers, leaving you staring at your manager, tears welling down your eyes. The feeling of vulnerability seeps through as you look away and stare at the pool of water beside you.

You watch your team tiptoeing around you, their eyes filled with pity. It's sickening. Lifting your blanket you catch a glimpse of the bruises littering your body, shifting in the bed your face scrunches feeling you back burning in pain.

Your manager holds a new bottle of water in front of you, this time with a drinking straw on it as you glance around the room looking for inkling clues on Fernando's whereabouts. Your thoughts trail back moments before the race.

Sneaking in his room beside yours, away from the eyes of the cameras capturing every moment of your rivalry. You still hold the warmth, the lingering feeling of his kiss before the race began. His words, whispering sweet nothing in your ears, replaying every moment before you stepped into your car. It was flashing in front of your eyes, it only scared you more.

He was nowhere to be found, and the silence around you only made it more frustrating, they could only stare at you with the sickening pity on their eyes. No one stepped in to talk first, the rhythmic beeps of the machine connected to your fingers supplying the only source of sound remaining in your room.

Pressing the button, all eyes turn towards the television. Coincidentally you're greeted with the familiar Ferrari Red on the screen, you notice your car turning on the familiar corner before being flipped in the air. It was only then you realized that you were watching Fernando's on boards.

Your eyes scan the news headline in red, "FERRARI DRIVERS' YN LN AND FERNANDO ALONSO INVOLVED IN A COLLISION DURING LAST WEEK'S GRAND PRIX." The date on the other side of the screen indicates the day of the week— it's been three days. Three days it took for you to wake up, with Flavio in your room it must mean one thing.

"He's in a coma."

The words the doctor said as you sat in a wheel chair, in front of Fernando's door. The smile on your face dissipates, frozen in front of his hospital room. Fernando wasn't awake yet. With shaky hands, you drop them off the doorknob, instead you push yourself back to your room.

You couldn't bear looking at him. It would be unfair to blame it all on him, but it hurts you more that he was the one who crashed into you, and look at what he had done. Not just physically, you're on the verge of breaking down every second of the day, tears pulling at the corners of your eyes and you couldn't say anything.

To your team, you were just mourning the loss of the race and points, but deeper you were worried about Fernando, he was your boyfriend for God's sake yet you couldn't do anything. You couldn't even defend him as rumors and articles slowly come out about the crash, with Fernando's ulterior motive making you lose points for the Driver's Championship.

You knew what they were saying wasn't true, but with the isolation and avoidance of the situation you slowly begin to spiral in the what ifs and question if there truly had been some power play before the race.

Fernando wouldn't do that to you? He wouldn't... And as the hours turn into days, your desperation for answers gets clearer by the day. You find yourself sneaking into his room, wishing nothing but to pour your heart out in tears, and crying yourself to sleep. But you couldn't.

You couldn't even let yourself be vulnerable for a second, because to them, you were rivals before teammates. You just sit and stare at him, watching as he breathes peacefully, unaware and no clue of the commotion he has caused.

You can't help but laugh at the situation you're in. Three years ago, you'd laugh and pray for his downfall, only three years later you would find yourself crawled up in his sheets, grasping for warmth, getting the last minutes of sleep before sneaking out of his hotel room and playing the character of his racing rival.

You smile to yourself, wiping the tears off your eyes, "I'm not mad at you. I don't care if you planned this, you could crash at me for the rest of the race, I'm telling you please wake up. If you blame me, I would take it, I'd take that, tell me you hate me. Tell me it's my fault, I just want you back."

By some stroke of luck, or that your prayers had worked Fernando woke up the next day. You woke up to the sound of whispers in your room.

You heard from nurses that the patient from 3314 had woken up. You find yourself preparing to meet him, looking forward to a nurse inviting you to his room.

What wishful thinking.

It had been days since Fernando woke up, yet you were still blind to his condition. Despite feeling better, and walking to and from the hallways you haven't heard anything about Fernando.

"Good morning YN, we're going to visit Fernando today." You raise your brows at Flavio's words, unsure of his implications. You knew of their close relationship, but you both decided to keep your relationship under the wraps— as tight as can be, that really there are only two people involved, you and Fernando himself.

The rest of the world only saw you as racing rivals and nothing more, which made you bitter given the situation. There was always an ulterior motive behind the interactions with you two, and even now, you couldn't believe yourself for staying away from him so long.

Maybe it's because you were focused on your healing, and the wishful thinking that Fernando would also keep you in his thoughts as he recuperated, albeit slower than you, you prayed that you would meet him soon, despite being placed two rooms apart, you barely saw glimpses of him, much to your dismay.

But maybe it was for the better, your mind immediately blanked out after his doctor spoke about his condition. His words pass through your ear and out the other, standing still with both feet glued in the same spot, hands growing sweaty and bracing yourself from the impact of his words.

"He— Fernando has amnesia? Is that what you're telling me?" Your voice is slowly thinning out, shaking away the tears building up your eyes, your heartbeat picking the pace as you're left to fully comprehend what the doctor said. Giving yourself little to no time to prepare.

You stop Flavio from opening the door, "Does he remember you?" You watch Flavio nod his head in confidence.

"I doubt he will forget you, you're his rival out there, he's been asking about you since he woke up."

Your ears perk up at his words, nodding to yourself. Of course he'd say that, Flavio doesn't know a thing. You let go of his hands, along with the nerves building up.

Trying to not let your excitement show, you follow Flavio into the room, matching his pace hiding behind his figure to hide yourself from Fernando. Flavio moves aside and you're struck, slowly taking in Fernando's state, the bandages no longer crowned on top of his head as you scan the healing bruises on his body.

"LN. You're here to pray for my downfall? I bet it was your recklessness that caused this crash." The coldness of his voice felt like water splashed all over your face, throwing you off.

Flavio instinctively moved you behind him, shocked at his hostility.

You stumble behind, lost in your thoughts, he hasn't called you that since you were together. You dare your eyes to catch a glance at his, it was no longer filled with the same softness he cast upon you when you're alone. Instead you were met with the cold glare in his eyes, "What are you staring at for? Think you can beat me now that I'm injured? You better watch your back LN."

LN. He hasn't called you by your last name for the last two years, not in public anyway. When you two were alone, it was always, amor— or some stupid nickname to set you off.

You deny the idea of him forgetting about you two, thinking if this was one of his games, a rather cruel one to play, but it wasn't as if you'd have it any other way. You look through his eyes once more, ignoring the clawing feeling in your heart, the pressing signals in your head to stop, but you can't help but try once more. Maybe this time, he'll realize and see it in your eyes. The relationship you have together, buried in the memories of your longing eyes. "Do you really not remember me?"

Fernando rolls his eyes with a 'tsk' "Now you're getting annoying, I told you LN, stop with this good girl act and get out of my room."

You don't need to be told more, turning your feet, you feel the room blur as your vision shakes, the ringing in your ear grows as you make your way to your room. Muffling the sound of your tears, you feel your legs weaken, back leaning against the door, shaking your head in disbelief.

Fernando was finally awake. Fernando survived the crash and is finally healing.

But this Fernando has forgotten four long years of history. Four years ago, back when all you were to Fernando was another rookie in his way, filled with hatred and not love.