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lexosaurus · 2 months ago

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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]

#danny phantom #dp fanfic #my writing #humor #identity reveal #valerie gray #my inner gym girlie came out for this one mhm #though it was really fun for me to write from the POV of Danny who decidedly hates strength training and the gym #gym bro au

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feyascorner · 11 months ago

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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."

Tags:@ayselluna @littleenglishfangirl @bg3obsessedsideblog @iwillpissyourpants @cyberpr1m3 @ukeia-uchiha @snowlotr @road-riot @spacekidnova @madislayyy @lordfishflakes @nicalysm @djarinsway @tinystarfishgalaxy @brainz00 @hopeful-n-sad @ohdeerieme @madisban @chrismarium @chonkercatto Please let me know if I didn't add you to the list or if you'd like to be added!

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #astarion #astarion x reader #bg3 x reader #fluff #bg3 #angst with a happy ending #angst #gale of waterdeep #shadowheart

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scribblesofagoonerr · 5 months ago

Text

— 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.

#buddy #monkey #leah williamson x reader #jordan nobbs x reader #chaos fc reader #woso x reader #chaos fc reader x separate reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #scribblesofagoonerr #crossover #woso one shot

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scary-lasagna · 8 months ago

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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.

#creepypasta #creepypasta imagines #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta blog #ticci toby #toby rogers #ticci toby x reader #creepypasta x reader

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intoanotherworld23 · 1 year ago

Text

Guard My Body

Pairing: Reader x Joel Miller

Warnings: NSFW 18+ only, this whole one shot is pure smut and filth, there is unprotected sex, p in v, body guard Joel, rough sex, smidge of spanking, brief mention of masturbation, dirty talk, swear words

Summary: Joel is hired by your father to be your personal body guard, and he plans on doing more than just guarding your body

Hearts, reblogs and comments are highly encouraged and appreciated so I hope y’all enjoy this one! If you wish to be added to the tag list please don’t hesitate to ask cause I would be more than happy to add you! Thank you all so much for your continued support! XOXO

Check out my other works on my Hall Of Hunks

"This is so wrong." Moaning as you bounced up and down on Joel'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 Joel's cock so deep you felt him in the pit of your stomach.

"Joel 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 Joel." 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 Joel." 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 Joel 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 Joel was squirting his cum inside you. Your head leaned forward on his shoulder trying to catch your breath.

Joel'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 would not mind doing that again.”

“Well you know what they say.” Joel looking at you with a wide grin. “Practice makes perfect.”

Just as Joel 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 Joel look to each other.

"I heard screaming."

#Pedro pascal #joel miller #Pedro pascal smut #joel miller smut #Pedro pascal imagines #joel miller imagines #Pedro pascal x reader #joel miller x reader #Pedro pascal fic #joel miller fic #Pedro pascal one shot #joel miller one shot #Pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction

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weird-is-life · 5 months ago

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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.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington

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myafterlifeisbetterthenyours · 1 year ago

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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.

#helluva boss #headcanon #helluva boss headcanon #x reader #helluva boss x reader #striker x male reader #helluva boss striker x reader #striker x reader #top striker #striker #vague lewdness #overt lewdness #striker would destroy you #we need more male x reader smut

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gregsgoodlookingneighbour · 6 months ago

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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.

#gregory house #doctor house #greg house x reader #house x reader #house md #house md x reader #taking care of him #fluff #house fluff

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astonmartingf · 7 months ago

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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.

#f1 x reader #f1 angst #f1 imagine #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso imagine #fernando alonso angst

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scurvgirl · 6 days ago

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Kissing Crows

I think Rook and Lucanis should kiss more. Minor spoilers for Lucanis's arc. (Rating: T) Rook is not specified other than using she/her pronouns.

There should have been a kiss after A Murder of Crows. I fix.

Rook could have sworn there was inuendo laced within Lucanis's words when he insisted they depart from Villa Dellamorte. "I have plans." Her entire body, aching from fighting Venatori, tingled at the thought. A girl could get by on heated glances, near touches, and a near kiss only so much after all.

When the team arrived back at the Lighthouse, Lucanis insisted on changing into his off-duty attire (she refused to call a waistcoat more comfortable - comfortable was worn leather, soft fabrics, not buttons and ties). She got that - blood got stinky if not tended to quickly enough and she could only guess how hot his leathers got with all the buckles and straps and dramatic swoops.

She figured he'd find her afterwards. He did not.

So, Rook left her quiet meditation room and headed for the larder. She found him in his natural habitat - in the kitchen, brooding over a cup of coffee.

Truly.

She poked at him. He smiled, then made a vague reference to how she was important to him. Nothing outright, of course, that would be too much.

Her heart sank as he seemed content to return to sipping his coffee. Well. That was that. First Talon and he just wanted...coffee.

She turned from him, about to walk away when...no. No. This was absurd! He either wanted to be with her or he didn't and she was over these suggestions of more. She didn't want a suggestion, she needed a confirmation.

Rook turned back to him and maybe a bit of her irritation showed on her face because Lucanis raised a brow,

"Rook?"

"We have been through some tough shit together, Lucanis. I've helped you and now I need your help."

He leaned forward, immediately concerned, "What do you need of me?"

"I need you to tell me why two people who are clearly attracted to each other, who respect each other, who want to be with each other...aren't with each other. Because I've made my desire known and for a moment, in the larder, I thought you did too but..." Alright, she was running out of steam and it didn't help that his face had morphed from shock to embarrassed pain.

"I did. Do. It is complicated."

"Explain."

"Spite...it is one thing to be with me, but Spite..."

"You're worried about me fucking the demon in you?"

He coughed, blushed, recoiled in the least graceful move she had ever seen from him. It only endeared her more to him.

Before he could recover enough to respond, she was stepping forward, "I have seen you, all of you, and Spite. I have walked in your mind, felt your heart, fought beside Spite, helped Spite. He does not worry me."

"How? If I lost control while we...I cannot let that happen."

"Then we set the expectation with Spite. It's not like he can't be reasoned with. Watch."

"You cannot seriously -

"Hey, Spite. Spite!"

"Smells like beans and desire!"

"You bet it does. I want to make a deal."

"A deal?"

"Yeah. When Lucanis and I are intimate together, you let him run things in the body, full stop - no manifesting."

Spite's face twisted into disgust, "Why would I do that? I don't. Taste flesh."

"So you agree you won't manifest if I kiss Lucanis?"

"No! Too much!"

"Great. Lucanis!"

Spite receded as a very perturbed Lucanis pushed through - purple fading from warm brown.

"Rook."

"Lucanis." She was on him in a second - knees suddenly beside his thighs, hands gently cupping his face as she leaned down. He didn't turn away.

He smelled like coffee and he was so warm. His beard and mustache tickled but she didn't mind. Instead, she moved her lips over his, feeling his warmth and taking in every moment.

In the end, it was Lucanis who opened his mouth first. The kiss deepened with mutual sighs of long awaited pleasure. Her body relaxed more firmly against his while his hands ran up her back. She tasted his coffee, his heat, the slight tingle of electricity of his possession, but most importantly - she tasted him.

They broke the kiss to breathe only to find themselves liplocked into another kiss - this time with Lucanis guiding her so that her head rested with the cradle of his elbow while he plundered her mouth his his. His fingertips grazed up her jawline. Her hands sank into his long hair. And they kissed and kissed and kissed until their lips were reddened and their eyes hooded with amorous affection.

She smiled softly, trailing a finger down his jaw, "Congrats on becoming First Talon."

Laughter, pure and simple escaped him. "You are a wonder, Rook. Thank you." He kissed her again.

#lucanis dellamorte #lucanis x rook #dragon age #veilguard #the veilguard #dragon age the veilguard #rookanis #veilguard spoiler #smooches

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sunkeji · 1 year ago

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Heyyy can i ask for tsukishima and sakasu were them and the reader try those periods simulation things! The reader is all fine and chill while the boys are screaming bloody murder and asking how the reader deals with these on a monthly basis! Separately please! Thank you!!!!

Period simulator ft. Tsukishima & Sakusa

a/n: I'm sorry I got to this late!! I didn't like how I wrote it originally so I scrapped the whole thing and redid it. Hopefully you like this (⁠^⁠^⁠)

Warnings: curse word used in sakusa's part, not proofread, if taken out of context it sounds pretty weird,it feels like i wrote a descriptive essay.

Imagine you make a bet against your boyfriend that if he was a girl, he wouldn't be able to bear the pain of period cramps but he says otherwise. So after that conversation with him, you purchase a period simulator to try during the weekend with him. Sitting on the couch side by side with the period simulator between you two, he steels himself for what's about to come while you are brimming with anticipation.

Tsukishima Kei

He was super confident at first that he would be able to withstand the pain. Not because he undermines the pain of period cramps but because he thinks he has a high pain tolerance. But little does he know...

At the first setting, it was still alright. It was uncomfortable, but still bearable. He brushed off your teasing comments, telling him that it's okay to back out now if it was too painful. He merely rolled his eyes and quipped back, saying he could go to sleep at this setting.

You crank the pain to level 3 and you see Tsukishima jolt. You give him a teasing smile and he quickly says that it was just very sudden and how he didn't expect it and blah blah blah.

You don't even give him a minute to get use to it when a mischievous smile makes its way to your face and you switch it to the highest setting.

Just as quickly as you switched its setting to the highest, you hear a quiet whimper come out of him. The both of you freeze and time seems to have stopped save for the ticking of the clock in the living room.

You hit him with the:

You open your mouth and are about to say something but he quickly interjects in a quiet voice; "no, keep it to yourself, I don't want to hear it" all while avoiding eye contact. You know he's not being mean, just a bit embarrassed or sulky maybe �� so you don't take it to heart.

After that whole fiasco, he made you promise to not utter a single word to anyone about this. And one more time you bring up the fact that the great Tsukishima Kei had actually whimpered, he might actually strangle you for real this time.

Jokes aside, He's left speechless that you actually have to deal with this each time you get your period. He's much nicer to you now when you're on your period, You get less sass from him when on your period and he's more understanding of your situation now.

Sakusa Kiyoomi

Can’t believe you actually bought it. Scolds you for wasting your money but since you’ve already bought it, might as well try it. He pretends like this whole thing is a nuisance but he is actually very curious.

He’s kinda nervous because from what he’s seen with you on days where your period cramps are really bad, it looks like you’re suffering from an unknown stomach disease that’s plagued the entire female population in the world and you are just another one of its victims.

Some very tiny part of him wants to be tough and show you that he’s strong but in actuality, he’s in for a rude awakening. He takes level 1 and 2 like a breeze but when you turn it up to level 3, beads of sweat are rolling down his forehead and he’s gripping the armrest of the couch and the veins in his arm are visible.

You glance at him, waiting for another reaction but when nothing else happens, you feel a tad bit disappointed and tell him you’ll put it to the highest setting now. He’s about to protest and reaches out to grab your arm but the intensity of the period simulator takes him by surprise and instead he ends up grabbing your thigh and squeezes it hard.

Now the both of you are screaming profanities and are thrashing around. If he doesn’t let go, you can’t adjust the setting of the period simulator. And if you don’t adjust the settings of the period simulator, he can’t let go because it hurts like a bitch. It’s a whole never ending cycle.

So its a few seconds of the two of you thrashing around before you reach under his shirt and yank the wires and simulator off of him. Then, it’s just the sounds of the two of you heavily breathing and trying to catch your breaths. You turn to him and your eyes go wide when you see he actually has a few tears rolling down his cheeks as he stares at you blankly.

Now you’re left wondering what’s the appropriate course of action. Do you start cackling like a maniac because you never thought he’d start crying then console your boyfriend or do it the other way around? Well you didn’t have to think about it for long because a few seconds later, his head fell ontop of your lap with his arm covering his eyes.

You ask him if he’s feeling okay with a goofy smile plastered on your face from the event that had previously unfolded. You hoped your boyfriend wouldn’t move his arm now otherwise he’d pinch you for smiling at his misery. He mumbles softly about how he just needs a few minutes to recollect himself and then he’ll be good to go. So in the meantime, you brush your fingers through his hair. After a few minutes or so he asks you with a sigh; “You’ll never let this go will you?”. You laugh and plant a kiss on his head “Nope!”

You remind him how it feels even worse by adding the nausea, dizziness and low blood pressure you may get. So now he takes extra good care of you 🫶 he feeds you lots of red meat, refills your water bottle and even gives you massages anywhere you're feeling sore.

#haikyuu x reader #tsukishima x reader #kei x reader #tsukishima x reader fluff #tsukishima kei x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa x reader #kiyoomi x reader #sakusa x reader fluff #haikyuu x reader fluff #taking care of you on your period #hq x reader

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