#Day 2 of not really answering the prompt

[morganbritton132]

I love the newer teachers not knowing who Eddie is and visiting Steve at his house and wondering how they can afford such a nice house. I can imagine that they live in a house way above a teachers salary, much less a teacher with presumably, a lot of medical bills. They see gold records hanging on the walls and all of Eddie’s awards on a bookshelf and they are trying to connect the dots to who Eddie is.

David’s first impression of Steve is, admittedly, not great.

He was hired as a long-term substitute halfway through the school year and technically, Mr. Harrington was the only teacher on their floor not to introduce himself to him. They’re supposed to cover the eighth grade lunch period together, but Steve hasn’t shown up once since David was started three days ago.

Instead, the principal covered for him.

Cindy McCullen, the gossipy history teacher across the hall from him, says that it’s because of favoritism. She says that Principal Moreno always lets her favorites run rampant around the school and lets them do whatever they want, especially if they’re tenured. Steve Harrington is the most egregious example of blatant favoritism.

David starts to form an opinion about Mr. Harrington in his mind that only gets worse with every story he hears from Cindy. So, it’s a bit of a shock when Steve shows up for lunch duty the next day with a whole ass service dog.

He feels like an asshole.

Especially because Steve is so apologetic about missing the last three days and leaving David to ‘the wolves’ during his first week, “Is this your first teaching job? I’ve heard from the kids that you’re doing great!”  

He makes a conscious effort after that to get to know Steve and to stop letting other people form his opinions for him. Though, admittedly. He kinda fucks that up too.

The first time David meets Eddie, he thinks that he’s Steve’s brother.

It’s not that Steve doesn’t talk about his life outside of work. It’s just that he doesn’t go into a lot a detail. David knows that he’s married to a man, that he’s from Indiana originally, and he might have a kid. Maybe? A girl name Erica that tells him what a brony is and how they ruin everything.

Hell, David’s not even entirely sure he knows what Ozzy is in service of. Steve just said that he bumped his head one too many times and now he has a dog so his husband stops worrying so much.

The only surefire thing that David knows is that Steve has a brother that’s a bit of a dork. He has great hair and is really smart, but lacks tact. Steve loves him. You can tell by the way that he talks about the guy.

So one day, David is in the teacher’s lounge heating up a cup of Easy Mac while Steve is sitting with his head down at one of the tables. He’s about to suggest that Steve go home and sleep off whatever cold he has when a guy with long hair and a leather jacket sticks his head in the room and declares, “You look like shit.”

Steve doesn’t even lift his head when he flips him off which is – whoa, not something that David would expect from Mr. Harrington. He makes himself busy with stirring his mac and cheese while the two bicker with each other which is, admittedly, childish.

Leather Jacket’s main argument for why Steve has to listen to him and go home is because he’s older. Steve croaks out that that is bullshit and Leather Jacket threatens to call their Uncle Wayne if Steve doesn’t listen. He eventually agrees.

Before they leave, Leather Jacket sticks his hand out to David and introduces himself as the cooler Mr. Harrington (that gets a laugh out of Steve).

So, color him shocked when Steve invites their event committee over to his house.

David hasn’t even fully gotten over how nice of a neighborhood Steve lives in on a teacher and retiree’s salary when Leather Jacket gets introduced as Eddie, the husband Steve has mentioned. Then he just casually mentions a red carpet like, what?

And the craziest part is that he’s asked about his husband before!

Steve mentioned once that his husband was out of town and when David asked what he did for work, Steve said that he was retired. He said that his husband can play guitar and that one of their friends (James Hetfield) needed a last minute guitarist for some kind of fair (Coachella) so Eddie went to help out.

He definitely worded it like playing guitar was just a hobby that his husband has, not like. Not like platinum records lining the hallway to their bathroom or the picture of Steve and Eddie in Vegas with KISS stuck to the fridge. He swears the note on the dry erase board by the garage entrance signed ‘Dave’ is in Dave Grohl’s handwriting.

There’s an Grammy on the bookshelf by the fireplace.

Who the hell is Steve Harrington?

Better question: Who the hell is Eddie Munson?

Kathy laughs the entire drive to her house and she is still laughing when he drops her off. The only thing she says that could even be considered an answer is, “I think he’s on Tiktok. Start there.” 

#Day 2 of not really answering the prompt #I thought that it’d be funny if Steve was so casual about Eddie’s fame that it comes off like his husband plays Wonderwall in their garage #and then the rest of this was written #I like to imagine that David goes back to school and gossips with the other first year teachers and all try to figure out who Steve is on #their lunch breaks. they all nearly lose it when they find an article about the Starcourt Mall fire and Steve was mentioned in it #eddie munson tiktok saga #steve harrington #eddie munson

[luxaofhesperides]

Soulmark AU + Sleeping Beauty ; requested by @candeartist422!

For the last few years, Duke’s been waiting for his soulmate to die.

It sounds cruel to say it that way. But the waiting is more painful, he thinks, than just mourning a lost love. It’s not like most people ever meet their soulmates anyways; his parents weren’t meant to be, but they still loved each other and had a life together. He wishes he could turn his focus away from his soulmate, but Duke is a romantic at heart and has always wanted to find the other half of his soul.

But since he was fourteen, his soulmark has dulled, fading in and out of color. What was once a vibrant blue crystal star, with eight points and a swirl of watercolor hues around it, dimmed more and more until Duke was sure he was watching his soulmate die slowly. 

His soulmate didn’t die then. Whoever they are got better, his soulmark gaining color, but it never went back to the way it was. For years after, Duke would check at the beginning and end of each day, keeping track of when it faded and when it regained its color. 

He thought his soulmate was sick. In and out of hospitals, fighting to stay alive.

And then it went nearly colorless. 

Duke doesn’t remember much about that day. He knows he woke up, brushed his teeth, the lifted up his shirt to check his soulmark in the mirror. The blue was almost completely gone, the star on his left hipbone nearly gray with how colorless it was. He started at it for a moment, shocked, and reality slid away from him as he retreated into the safety of his mind, fully dissociating. 

Bruce had found him when Duke didn’t show up for breakfast. He held him and offered quiet words of comfort that Duke couldn’t understand, but just having someone with him lessened the hurt of losing his soulmate. 

Seeing the color come back the next day, faint as it was, hurt even more.

A year later, Duke still can’t break the habit of checking his soulmark twice a day. It hasn’t changed at all, still faint and dim, but carrying just enough color to show that his soulmate was still alive. At the very least, they were still breathing, but his chance of ever meeting them is basically zero. Still, he can’t help but hope, wishing that he could meet them even once before they die and leave him forever. 

“Same as ever,” he murmurs to himself as he brushes his thumb against his soulmark. He’s terrified that he’s forgotten how beautiful the blue of it was when his soulmate was healthy. 

Duke doesn’t let himself think on it too much anymore. Though his thoughts often turn to his soulmate during quiet moments like these, the busy nature of Gotham is usually more than enough to pull his attention back to the here and now. There’s no use in obsessing over his soulmate anyways; they’re just going to die, sooner or later, and Duke knows he’ll never get to meet them. They’ll just be another empty space in his life, right next to his parents. 

“Come on, Thomas, focus,” he tells himself firmly, then gets dressed and heads down to the kitchen for breakfast.

The manor is quiet. It usually is in the mornings, with everyone from the night shift dead asleep and trying to get as much rest as they can before they have to start their day. Not that many of them stay in the manor these days; Duke and Damian are the only permanent residents at the moment, but Steph usually stays half with her mom and half in the manor during the summers when she’s home from college, and the others drop in whenever they feel like it. 

Bruce lives more in the Batcave than the manor, so he doesn’t really count. It’s also why Duke is surprised to see Bruce awake and dressed like a normal person, drinking coffee in the kitchen as if this is a normal occurrence. 

“Morning,” Duke offers.

“Good morning, Duke,” Bruce replies. “Sleep well?”

“Well enough. Alfred out or something?”

“He may have kicked me out of the Batcave to clean it up a bit,” Bruce answers tiredly. “Want me to make breakfast?”

Duke has heard the horror stories of Bruce’s attempts to make edible food in a kitchen. In the interest of not dealing with food poisoning, Duke shakes his head quickly and says, “Nah, it’s fine. I was kinda wanting to eat out for breakfast. Get out there as me, and not a mask, you know?”

“Mind if I join you? Alfred may forgive me for not sleeping if I willingly go outside.”

Duke laughs. “Sure man, as long as you pay.”

“I’ll drive, too.”

“What, don’t trust me behind a wheel?”

Bruce gives him a tired look, eyes dead and dull. “I have taught all my children how to drive. The day I willingly let them take the wheel when I am not actively dying is the day I’ve been replaced by a robot clone of myself who doesn’t know better yet.”

“That is… very specific. Is that a thing you usually worry about?”

“I’m Batman. I have to worry about everything.”

Yeah, that tracks. Duke wouldn’t be surprised if he has at least five contingency plans for that scenario, should it ever happen. “Well,” he says, “Right now, all you need to worry about is having your wallet and driving us down to The Foodie Nook. I’ve been craving their breakfast plates for ages.”

Bruce doesn’t object to his choice of restaurant and follows Duke down to the garage, grabbing a random set of keys and pointing it out to the many cars he owns. One near the front blinks its lights as it unlocks and Duke cheerfully tosses himself into the passenger seat as Bruce opens the garage door. 

The drive into Gotham is smooth. They don’t hit traffic until they reach the bridge that leads into the city proper, taking them away from the quiet of Bristol. The morning is busy, but not enough that Duke worries about being out as the Signal to help keep the peace. It’s a normal type of busy, one borne from people going about their lives, feeling safe enough to go out. 

The Foodie Nook is entirely local and very popular, so the parking lot is nearly full. But they expanded their space last year, which means he and Bruce don’t have to sit outside while they wait to grab a table. Bruce keeps conversation light and casual, well aware of the many listening ears around them, and it’s nice, feeling normal for once. 

Well, as normal as life can be with Bruce Wayne™. The server who comes to lead them to a table realizes who she’s talking to after she gets a proper look at them while holding open the door and promptly stutters over her words. 

“No need for any special treatment,” Bruce laughs lightly, “We’re just here for breakfast. Nothing special.”

“Of course,” she replies, cheeks red. “Um, right this way! We’ve got a table by the windows for you. Just two, yeah?”

“Yup! Just two. Thought this was a good day to spend some time with Duke. He’s a great kid, you know, I’m glad I was given the opportunity to foster him.”

The sunny, cheerful Bruce Wayne persona is so different from the usual Bruce he works with that it feels like he’s standing next to a stranger. But his words are sincere and warm his heart, filling up the gaps that his soulmate has left. 

“Here you are!” their server announces, showing them to their table. “I’ll be right back with some menus.” She’s gone in a rush, and other customers glance over before quickly averting their gaze. 

It’s one of the unspoken rules of Gotham: give the Waynes their privacy while they’re out in public. Questions and conversation are for public events only, but if they see a Wayne out and about during a normal day, everyone leaves them be unless spoken to first. Duke used to follow those rules as well when he was just another Gothamite. It’s strange being on the other side of that now that he’s in with the Waynes.

Duke barely has to look through the menu when it’s handed to him. The breakfast plates are his favorites and he gets one every single time he comes to The Foodie Nook; stacked full with breakfast foods from around the world. As a kid, he loved the Mexico Plate, but these days he’s craving either the Brazilian Plate or the Vietnamese Plate.  

He can’t decide on which one and thinks about tossing a coin to decide, but seeing how that’s Two Face’s whole thing, he decides to hold off and settle the matter with eenie-meenie-minnie-mo. 

He gets the Vietnamese Plate.

Bruce, on the other hand, reads through the entire menu like it’s a novel, then leans over and says rather loudly, “Duke, what’s a tort-illa.” 

The pain he feels hearing that is only worsened by the amusement in Bruce’s eyes. He’s doing it on purpose, playing up the Brucie act for the public so he can psychologically torment Duke. A few nearby customers choke back laughter, turning away to hide their smiles. 

Duke shakes his head and says, “Don’t worry about it. It’s just food. Don’t ask any more questions, I just want a peaceful breakfast.”

“Well then,” Bruce replies, “I suppose I know what to order now.”

As if she was summoned, their server reappears before them, cheeks still looking a little flushed. “Hi! Ready to order?”

She writes down their orders quickly, valiantly keeping a straight face at Bruce’s mispronunciation of tortilla, then heads off to deliver their orders to the kitchen. 

Rather than draw out a conversation with Brucie Wayne, Duke settles for playing a few idle games on his phone; his current favorite is one quiet cat cafe game where he directs cats into fulfilling cafe orders. 

Bruce, despite being out in his civilian identity, is working. He’s on his Batman phone, which looks the same as his other cell phones except this one has a bat symbol sticker just barely hiding a Superman sticker on the phone case. His brow is slightly furrowed as he reads whatever file he’s accessing from the Batcomputer. It’s a little worrying but it could be anything. Bruce makes the same expression when he reads one of Tim’s snarky comments getting quoted in the news.

But that’s not Duke’s problem! He’s here to enjoy his breakfast and it will take the end of the world itself to remove him from his seat before he’s done eating.

The game takes most of his attention until their food comes out, and by then Bruce has tucked away the smallest of his Batman mannerisms. They enjoy a normal, peaceful breakfast. Bruce ends it by asking their server if she has any debt that’s weighing her down, then giving her a tip that’s at least five thousand dollars above that. 

She does cry and Bruce hugs her. It’s very sweet. 

As soon as they get back into the car, his easy going smile drops and Duke knows some superhero nonsense is about to take over his day. 

“Duke,” Bruce starts, seriously, “I received a message from Zatanna.”

“Don’t drag this out,” Duke says, “Just give it to me straight. What terrible thing is about to happen to us?”

“It’s nothing too big. They just recently defeated a magical being who had been tearing apart secret government facilities in Illinois. He had both magic and a high tech weapon, which they confiscated and are delivering to me. The government agency he was fighting was suspiciously interested in the weapon, and based on their behaviors and newly revealed work, Zatanna made the decision to turn the weapon over to us so it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.”

Bruce smoothly merges into traffic as he speaks, getting them onto the road back to the manor. There’s a look in his eyes that means he’s keeping a lot unsaid, and Duke knows without a doubt that whatever this government agency was doing is bad if Zatanna needs Batman to act as extra security. 

He’s not sure about her decision to trust the weapon to be safe in Gotham, either. Sure, Batman will keep it as safe as he can, but with their luck, it’ll end up in the hands of a Rogue and lead to a lot of death and destruction. 

As soon as they cross the bridge and return to Bristol, Bruce steps on the gas and the car tears down the road. Without any other cars to worry about (or traffic laws), it takes barely two minutes to reach the manor, when the gates open for them and let them into the garage. 

Alfred waits for them by the door, looking them over with a critical eye. “I see you have managed to go outside, Master Bruce. What’s the special occasion?”

“Just breakfast,” Bruce answers. “I’m heading back down to the Batcave. Zatanna will be here soon to deliver a weapon.” He’s gone before Alfred can say anything more, hurrying down the hall and turning the corner, disappearing from sight as he heads towards his office. 

“I see we have yet to break that bad habit of his. Did you enjoy your morning out, Master Duke?”

“Sure did, Alfred. I’m, uh, also going down to the Batcave. He’s definitely not telling me a lot about what’s going on, so I’m just going to read about it over his shoulder. I’ll be back up for lunch, though!”

“And perhaps you’ll be able to drag Master Bruce away from that cave of his,” Alfred comments wryly as he walks with Duke towards the office. He gives Duke a nod, then splits away from him, returning to the kitchen where Duke can hear Damian speaking to someone, probably Tim by the annoyed tone of his voice, and mentally wishes Alfred luck in handling them.

Duke sets the correct time on the clock in Bruce’s office and heads down to the Batcave, taking the steps two at a time. 

Bruce is already at the Batcomputer, shoulders tensed, when he arrives. 

“More bad news?” he asks as he makes his way over.

Bruce doesn’t bother looking away from the screen as he says, “More details about the fight. It seems the magical being called himself a ghost and was going on a rampage due to a betrayal. He says they nearly killed his son.”

“Oh, yikes.”

“And two of the scientists working with the government agency said that he stole their son and is keeping them from saving him.”

“Yikes,” Duke says with more feeling.

He doesn’t get to hear anymore details about JLD’s fight with this ghost when he catches a flicker in the corner of his eye. Duke turns and stares at the empty space in the Batcave near the medbay and watches as colorful magic gathers and swirls in dizzing circles. The portal opens a moment later and Zatanna steps out, looking exhausted and lightly singed. 

“Batman,” she greets, holding a white gun that looks like it belongs in an early sci-fi movie from the 60s. “The GIW is trying to arrest us. Constantine keeps burning their badges and documents so it shouldn’t be a problem, but they are determined to get this back. I wouldn’t be surprised if they came after you next. They’ve got some way of tracking things, but I didn’t have time to get any details before I had to leave.”

Bruce takes the gun from her hands carefully, looking it over with a sharp gaze. “Why would a ghost want to use a gun?”

“I don’t know. He had a variety of powers, too.”

“What does this do?”

“Shoots ice. He never let it go and nearly burned me alive for taking it before we subdued him.”

“We’ll keep it locked up,” Bruce promises. 

Zatanna sighs. It looks as though a physical weight fell off her shoulders. “Thanks. I’m going to head back to stop Constantine from getting into a fistfight with the GIW agents.”

She opens another portal with a waved hand and a muttered spell. Bruce is already walking away to set the gun down on a work station, so Duke is the one to wave Zatanna goodbye. 

By the time he reaches Bruce’s side, the gun is already dismantled, all pieces neatly set aside. Sticky notes denote which pieces go together and in what order. It looks the same as most guns, save for the aesthetic, but the heart of it is a glowing blue orb, large enough to cover the entirety of Bruce’s palm, and it brings a chill to the air.

Duke stares at it and feels his soulmark burn ice cold.

“Duke?”

It’s in his hands. He doesn’t remember reaching out to take it, but it’s in his hands. He can’t take his eyes off of it, cradling it gently and bringing it closer to his chest. 

It’s the same blue his soulmark once was. Before his soulmate began to fade, before every day became a waiting game to see how long his soulmate will last before they die. 

This has something to do with his soulmate. He’s sure of it. 

He won’t let anyone take it from him. 

“Duke. Give that to me.”

He doesn’t feel like he’s in his body. He’s detached, floating somewhere outside his body, puppeteering his limbs, making them move without feeling the motion. Shadows condense around his feet and Bruce takes a step back, wary. 

“Duke,” he says again, but Duke can’t find any words, can’t draw on his voice, can’t even look away from the bright, bright blue of the orb. It pulses lightly in his hand like a heartbeat. 

Bruce reaches a hand out. 

He’s pulled back by shadows before he can get close, and Duke holds the orb against his chest, right against his heart, and feels the cold seep into him. 

“Duke. I need you to look at me.” This time, Bruce’s voice has Batman’s growl in it, a heavy command that he can’t help but instinctively follow. He looks up and meets Bruce’s eyes, but he can’t focus. All his awareness is in his hands and the heartbeat of the glowing orb.

“I have to protect this,” Duke manages to whisper. “I… I think it’s alive.”

“Okay. Let’s get you to the medbay so you can sit down. We’ll figure this out, Duke.”

Bruce slowly, carefully, sets his hand on Duke’s shoulder. He keeps his attention away from the orb, so Duke allows it and lets Bruce guide him to the medbay and onto one of the medical cots. Bruce leaves him after a minute of quiet fussing, muttering about calling Zatanna.

Whatever. None of that matters when the heartbeat of the orb grows stronger, steadier, and Duke feels it match the beat of his own heart.

Time slips away from him. Distantly, he hears people move around the cave, speaking in low tones. A hand presses against his shoulder, warm, then moves away. 

The orb in his hand moves. 

Duke blinks slowly, then claws his way back to awareness, pushing past the haze that’s fallen over his mind. The orb turns over in his hand, then cracks right down the middle. The glow grows stronger, washing the medbay in blue light and a symbol appears on the orb.

It’s his soulmark. 

Later, he won’t be able to say why he did it. There were no thoughts, no reasonings, no explanations. Duke simply moved on instinct and lifted the orb up to his face and pressed a soft kiss against it. 

One moment, the orb was still.

The next, it had burst in a flash of light that blinded everyone in the Batcave, and then a thin, injured teenager had fallen into Duke’s lap. 

Hands immediately grab him, pulling him away from Duke. The teenager puts up no fight, eyes barely open, but he reaches for Duke weakly. On his wrist is the bright blue snowflake, the color strong and vivid. 

“That’s me soulmate,” Duke whispers as he watches Bruce and Tim set the boy down on another medical cot. 

“What?” Tim says, turning to face Duke, concern clear on his face. 

“That’s my soulmate,” he repeats, louder. Then, panicked, he pulls up his shirt enough to see his own soulmark; the color is still dull, weak, barely there, but it’s more blue that it has been in a while. He doesn’t need to say anything. Tim sees the dullness of his soulmark, looks at the boy, and puts the pieces together on his own.

“I’ll call Doc Thompkins,” he says, already moving to fix everything. Bruce remains where he is, making sure the boy is tucked in and breathing steadily before he returns to Duke. 

“Are you alright?”

Duke swallows roughly, unable to tear his eyes away from the boy. He’s pale and thin, as if he’d been starved, and there’s frost beginning to spread on the bedsheet from his fingers. “He’s my soulmate,” Duke manages to say. “He’s been dying for two years.”

Bruce’s eyes a hard, a determined light in them. “We’ll save him,” he promises. 

If anyone can, it’s Batman. 

If anyone can, it’s them, Batman and the Signal, and their entire network of family and friends. 

Duke’s been waiting for his soulmate to die all this time. Now, he’s going to save him.

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #prompt fill #my writing #i dont really know much abt jld so they are not really in here #just duke trying to live his life and have a nice day with bruce #when his soul mate gets thrown at him in the form of an ORB #(ghost core but they dont know that yet) #dannys gonna have to answer so many questions once hes awake bc not many know abt realms beings #its gonna be rough for him bc he's been asleep for 2 years in his core bc he was never safe enough to recover #until duke gave him a boost (plus the power of soulmates really helped him) and he woke up #in a cave with his soulmate and a whole crew of superheroes #what a thing to open ur eyes to. rip danny lol #thanks for the prompt!

[swiftiephobe]

once again attending a concert on my own because the person i was meant to be going with ditched and i couldn't find anyone else to go with me lol

#i really don't mind going on my own #it just kinda hurts when it feels like the people i invite to these things treat it like a complete afterthought #like i bought these tickets for us like 2 years ago after she said she was in and wanted to go #and then got NO followup like never paid for the ticket never expressed excitement nothing #and then the few times i would bring it up she would be super noncommittal and it was obvious she had just forgotten she'd agreed to go #and then when i finally ask her for a definite answer a few days ago its just ''sorry i have an exam i can't come!!'' #like? is it really too much to ask for someone to remember what plans we've made? #and then follow up with me without needing to be prompted? #worst part is i then asked another friend if she would be interested and then she basically forgot about the invite too #and didn't say no until i prompted her for an answer 🙃 #like am i that forgettable??? do people just not want to spend time with me but don't want to say it outright or something?? #it is partially my fault like i should have been more upfront and proactive in making sure i had someone to go with #but i hate ALWAYS having to be the one to ask about it :/ #anyway at the end of the day i am seeing lorde live and they are not so it's their loss xx

[captainkurosolaire]

6. If your muse came to life, do you think you would get along with them?

OOC: That'd ultimately all depend on the situation of how I met him. Also to what his knowledge of me is. I'm the grand greatest villain and antagonist for my character, his fate, the peak of attaining freedom is breaking from the godly strings, I play as in pretend. I'm the pinnacle advisory to defeat. We're quite a-far apart and it's unlikely we'd ever have a discussion that we'd realize, we've got things in common in a majority of settings and scenarios. It would turn out very misfortune for me as the author to encounter him, I would be certainly met with hell. Be tremendous perhaps in more favor though for anyone else with his life being given!

(Thank you lovely for the ask, always appreciated. @spellsandtales)

#asks answered #Gonna close this prompt #But other random asks still good #So inbox me w/e #Still might one-day do IC stuff again bit more but working hard on month 2 #It's really coming out well #Lot of collab's coming with so the pressure is on

[moneypriestess]

So the bat kids have trust issues right? Like its really bad, and the family dosent help each other no no no no.

They make it worse.

They lie to each other for no particular reason other than it will minorly inconvenience the other that day, and at this point it's just a habit.

Now enter a newly adopted vulnarable danny phantom that has maajjoor trust issues already

Prompt:

Exhausted Danny that has gotten zero sleep in the past 2 days, walking up to an equally sleep deprived Tim and asking a very simple question.

"Hey Tim, is there still coffee in the pot?"

And when Tim, who looks very busy on his laptop, replies with a short "yeah," why would danny believe him to be lying?

Tim only registers his answer and scrambled to get up from his seat when he spots danny looking at the empty pot, his back towards him.

Maybe he'll ignore it? Laugh it off and make another pot? Tim thought, but no, it was much, much worse.

Danny turned with big baby blue glistening eyes and a jutted bottom lip that was trembling as he tried to hold back a tear. Both stared at each other in mutual horror for different reasons before danny finally spoke, his voice scratchy and filled with betrayel.

"Why?"

#dc x dp #crossover #crack #dc x dp crossover #dp x dc #dpxdc #danny loves coffe #so does tim

[dancingbirdie]

Okay so on Astarion, I was reading this fic about him not knowing Tavs true intentions with him and it bothering Astarion a lot, so what if he goes to some mage or magic user and asks them to show Tavs true intentions to him, when he does the vision he sees is just... being snuggled. It's Tav on top of him and the both of you are falling asleep, his hands are under your shirt softly petting your skin as your sleepy self is contently snuggled up to him. I just start crying about him finding out that Tavs DASTARDLY and EVIL plan with him, their greatest desire from him... is to simply be held. 🥺

Hi @goblin-creatcher! Thank you so much for this BEAUTIFUL prompt. I, uhh, kind of took it and went a million miles an hour with it. This is honestly one of my favorite things I've ever written. I hope you enjoy it as well! xoxoxo

Something Imagined / Something Real

Word Count: 3.9K

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Astarion x f!Tav

Warnings/Tags: Brief but detailed description of rough consensual sex, descriptions and references to Astarion's trauma/trauma responses, minor Act 1 and Act 2 spoilers, FLUFF, angst

Suggested Song Pairing: Slow Dancing in A Burning Room (Stripped) - cover by ST LUNA

Summary: Astarion has been suspicious of Tav’s true intentions toward him. He persuades Gale to cast a spell and reveal her motivations. ANGST and FLUFF ensue. A rewriting of Astarion’s confession scene from Act 2.

The sun had just begun to set on the campsite when Astarion decided to put his plan into action. He had waited until Tav departed with some of the other party members before making his way over to the wizard. Gale was too busy reassembling the bookshelf inside his tent to notice Astarion’s approach. It wasn’t until he gave a polite cough that Gale jumped and whirled to face him. 

“No, no, no,” he began all at once, hands raised in a sort of shooing motion. Astarion stared at him in confusion. “I can respect Tav’s indulging in your need for blood, but as I’ve said before: I taste terrible.” 

Astarion scoffed. “Charming. Actually, wizard, I was coming to request your aid in a different, though somewhat related, matter.”

“Really? Care to elaborate?” Gale responded, still somewhat wary. It wasn’t often he found himself alone with the vampire. 

“Testy, I see,” Astarion crooned teasingly. His knee-jerk response to people treating him like a monster, to behave in the most false saccharine sort of way. 

But he drew up short, censoring himself before saying anything else he might regret. He knew he needed to get on the wizard’s good side if he had any chance of getting the answers he sought. 

“I was hoping you knew a spell to reveal someone’s true intentions. Their… motivations for behaving in a certain way, so to speak,” he finished more seriously. 

Gale pondered the question for a moment before answering. 

“Hmm… yes, there is magic to determine that sort of thing… Although it’s been some time since I practiced it…” He trailed off, rubbing his chin in thought. 

“Why are you asking for such a thing?” he asked suddenly. 

Astarion had been prepared for this question, of course. No one did anything for free, no questions asked. He delivered his explanation perfectly, as he’d been rehearsing in his mind.

“One might say our dear sweet Tav and I have been growing a bit… closer these days, but I can sense a master manipulator when I see one. I just simply want to ensure their intentions toward me - toward the party - are true,” he replied with mock innocence. 

“Ah, yes,” Gale nodded. “I gathered as much when the two of you slipped away from the tiefling’s party a few nights ago.” 

“But,” he continued on,”I needn’t think you should worry when it comes to Tav. She seems about as transparent as they come. I’m sure any intentions she has toward you are true.”

Yes, but the best actors always mask their motivations behind innocence and transparency, Astarion thought to himself. I should know. I’ve been doing it for centuries.

After the party’s unfortunate meeting with that Gur in the Sunlit Wetlands, Astarion realized he would have to take potential threats from Cazador even more seriously. He wasn’t about to lose his freedom, not now that he finally had some small taste of it. 

It didn’t hurt to be more suspicious of everyone he encountered, even the sweetling Tav. Anyone could be an operative sent by Cazador, and the best ones would be as skilled as he was in the art of manipulation. It was well-known at this point that the person he’d grown the closest to on their journey was their brave party leader, Tav. Unlikely as it may be that she was scheming for his master, Astarion’s paranoia wouldn’t let him indulge in interactions with her a second longer unless he knew how she truly felt. 

Given Gale’s hesitation, Astarion knew he would have to kick his acting up a notch. Press on that wizard’s heartstrings. Touch the one nerve he knew he was sensitive to.

“Gale, darling, from one literally damaged soul to another, indulge me just this once,” Astarion beseeched him. 

The wizard glared at him a moment, before finally relenting with a heavy sigh. “Fine. Fine. But I want it known that I don’t agree with this so-called solution one whit,” he grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Yes, yes, noted and formally documented, on my word as a former Baldurian magistrate,” Astarion replied cheerily. “So, let’s hop to it then, shall we?”

“What, right now?” Gale asked, shocked. “Shouldn’t we be, I don’t know, a little less conspicuous?” 

“What better time than now?” Astarion responded. “Tav’s out gathering firewood with Wyll and Karlach. They won’t be back for some time. As for Lae’zel and Shadowheart, well…” he paused, gesturing over his shoulder. 

Said two were engaged in a heated sparring session on the outskirts of the camp. Snarls and curses could be heard emanating from both warriors as they tried, and failed, to gain the upper hand against their opponent.

“That lovers’ dance could go on until morning,” Astarion finished. 

“Fair point,” Gale admitted begrudgingly, grimacing at the sound of swords clashing violently. “Very well. Let’s get started.” 

Clearing his throat, Gale began to utter a series of phrases completely foreign to Astarion. He watched as the wizard began moving his hands in a wavelike pattern, forming a circle before them. Suddenly, a mist began to form from seemingly thin air, taking shape according to the boundaries Gale’s hands were creating. The mist grew more and more opaque until it appeared before them like a clouded mirror. 

As the fogginess of the ethereal magic began to clear, the “mirror” became a confusing blur of scenes whipping by, too fast for Astarion or Gale to really comprehend. There were flashes of Tav and Astarion, together and separate, but they disappeared too quickly to ascertain their context. It was as though the spell was shuffling through the entirety of Tav’s thoughts, assessing each one at breakneck speed. 

Finally, the spell slowed to a halt, stopping on one scene in particular. Astarion was struck speechless by what began playing out in the foggy portal before them. So distracted, he didn’t even notice Gale’s tight cough, or how the wizard suddenly became intensely interested in a copse of trees nearby, rather than the revelation the spell was revealing.

Not that the scene was especially profound, objectively speaking. In fact, to anyone else, it might be viewed as the least revelatory thing possible that the spell could have shown. Boring. Inconsequential, even. But to Astarion, it was almost earth shattering. 

He saw himself - he could see his face! - with Tav, lying tangled together in some immaculate four-poster bed. 

That was the first shock that coursed through him, nearly causing his knees to buckle. He was seeing himself for the first time in over 200 years. Or at least, he was seeing himself as Tav saw him. And… the person he saw… Well, he was gorgeous. White blonde locks, curled and tousled in a devil-may-care sort of way. A strong, patrician nose that suggested good breeding. High, sharp cheekbones. Full lips, upturned in a thoughtless grin. Red eyes bordered by long, sweeping lashes. Delicately pointed elven ears. Smooth alabaster skin, without blemish or spot. 

Astarion could scarcely believe his own eyes. 

The second shock to his system was the nature of their activities. He would have been less surprised had the vision shown them fucking. Him taking her roughly from behind perhaps. His name a cry of ecstasy from her lips as he pistoned in and out of her with a feral sort of determination. 

Fantasies of lust, of total domination, now those were things he was familiar with inspiring in the minds of the victims he had taken as lovers. It was what he strove for, in all honesty. Desire like that all but ensured he would capture his prey and live to serve another day for his master. 

But nothing of the sort was occurring between vision-Tav and himself. Instead, they were just… embracing? What in sweet hells was this?

She lay halfway on top of him. Her hair was mussed, perhaps from sleep or perhaps from previous lovemaking. One hand was drawing absentminded shapes across his chest, her lips trailing behind, leaving kisses in their wake. He watched as vision-Astarion chuckled softly, as his hands slipped beneath her sleepshirt to caress her waist, as he placed an innocent kiss on the top of Tav’s head. Eventually, she reached for his hand. They both watched their fingers intertwine, blissfully content.

It was the purest, unadulterated expression of affection that Astarion had ever seen. Something in his heart quaked at the sight of it. He wanted that moment. He envied, he hated, vision-Astarion for enjoying such apparent happiness.

So absorbed in the vision and its implications, Astarion failed to notice the soft padding of feet that indicated someone’s re-entry into the camp. 

“If the two of you are quite finished poking around in my head,” an angry voice suddenly spat from behind them, “I’d appreciate you preserving what little privacy I have left and shutting that damn spell off.”

Mortified, Astarion and Gale turned to see Tav, arms crossed and visibly seething with rage. Gale quickly dispelled the magic with a flick of his wrist. A blush was slowly but surely rising up Tav’s neck to reach her cheeks. Whether from rage or embarrassment, Astarion couldn’t be certain. 

“Tav, let us explain-” Astarion started.

“It was his idea-” Gale blurted at the same time, pointing at Astarion. 

Both paused, glaring at one another. But Tav would have none of their feeble attempts at backpedaling. 

“The explanation doesn’t matter. Whose idea it was doesn’t matter. The fact is that both of you violated the privacy of my mind, which I’ll remind you, has ALREADY been violated by having a bloody tadpole forced inside of it!” Tav shouted. At their words, the camp became enveloped in a heavy silence. Even the crickets ceased their chirping.

Astarion cringed inwardly, knowing the other party members could plainly hear this altercation and had likely stopped whatever it was that they had been doing to listen in. He noted the sounds of swords clanging together had ceased. He was certain Lae’zel and Shadowheart at least were aware of what was happening. Nosy bastards, all of them.

But what disturbed him even more was the realization that Tav’s eyes were welling with tears. She was too proud to acknowledge them or wipe them away. Such was her nature. But they were there nonetheless, and the knowledge that Astarion had brought her to the point of tears was enough to spur a rush of utter self-loathing inside him.

Without another word, Tav turned on her heel and marched stiffly out of camp, toward the direction of a nearby creek they’d identified as a water source earlier in the day.

“I can’t believe I let you convince me to perform that spell,” Gale said as she disappeared between the trees. He dragged his hands down his face. 

“How could we have been so doltish, forgetting that all of our privacies have already been violated with this tadpole business?”

Astarion didn’t have an answer to that. At least, not one the wizard could possibly understand. 

The thought hadn’t occurred to Astarion, he realized, because violations of privacy had been something so intrinsic to his being for over 200 years. He didn’t even recognize it as something abnormal. Like a fish unaware that the water surrounding it is, in fact, water. 

Violations of privacy were a part of life, at least for him. So much so that his request for Gale to perform that magic hadn’t even occurred to him as an overstepping of boundaries. To Astarion, it had simply been a matter of survival. He had needed to know another potentially manipulative person’s true intentions, and so he had found a means to uncover it and maintain the upper hand. 

Belatedly, he also realized that Gale’s hesitation to cast the spell had had nothing to do with being inconvenienced for the evening, but because the wizard had known that it was improper to do to another person. If he had misread that, Astarion wondered, then what other truly benevolent behaviors had he mistaken as pragmatic manipulation?

“I need to go find her,” Astarion murmured, clenching and unclenching his fists in an uncharacteristic fit of uncertainty. 

“Yes, you do,” Gale asserted. “We both owe her a sincere apology… if she’ll even accept it.”

“I’ll see if I can convince her to come back to camp,” Astarion replied, making to leave in the direction Tav had stormed off. 

“Wait,” Gale said, a hand on his shoulder. Astarion turned to meet his gaze. 

“Look, well, I’m obviously not an expert in healthy demonstrations of affection. But I do think it’s obvious from what you saw in that spell that Tav well and truly cares about you. In perhaps the purest way possible. Treat that carefully.”

Part of Astarion wanted to laugh aloud in utter hopelessness at the wizard’s advice. Someone cared for him? Truly and purely? No hidden games, no strings attached? Oh certainly, that wouldn’t be a problem for Astarion at all. Obviously, his 200-year existence as a master-manipulator-fetch-hound for a power-hungry vampire lord had perfectly prepared him to respond to this situation in a healthy manner. Obviously.

But all that was too much to reveal to someone he barely knew and too heavy to say aloud. Rather than giving some smarmy retort, Astarion opted instead to give a stiff nod and continue walking toward the edge of camp. He had no idea how he could make things right with Tav, but at the very least he could try. 

***

He found Tav sitting on a fallen tree near the edge of the creek bed. Her legs were drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped around them as she rested a cheek to her knees. In the waning twilight, she reminded Astarion of some misbegotten gargoyle perched on the roof of a temple, solitary and so very sad. 

Her ears twitched as she noted his arrival. Astarion wasn’t trying to be stealthy. On top of everything else, the last thing he needed to do was scare her. 

“Can I join you?” he asked softly, wincing to himself at the awkwardness of the question. 

The reality was that there was no way to broach this conversation without some stilted beginning, and he hated it. Navigating tricky conversations was normally something he excelled at. But as he was quickly finding, when it related to Tav, nothing in his past life had prepared him to respond to her well. 

“If you’d like,” Tav answered tonelessly. 

Knowing it was probably the best response he was going to get, Astarion swallowed thickly and moved to sit down on the log next to her. 

“I… wanted to… apologize for what you saw, back at camp,” he began.

“Apologize for doing it, or apologize for getting caught?” Tav asked as she turned her head to look at him, resting her other cheek on her knees. 

Astarion balked at the question. Her piercing gaze unnerved him. He hadn’t really thought that far. 

“Both, I suppose?” he answered honestly, although it sounded more like a question to Tav. She huffed a laugh.

“You know, part of me really wants to yell at you. Scream in your face. Tell you off proper,” she mused.

“So why don’t you?” Astarion asked, perplexed. 

Tav didn’t respond at first, just sat there studying him. As if by staring at him long enough, she could project the answer into his mind. 

Astarion didn’t interrupt her, much as he would have liked to. Part of him always bristled when people gazed at him for too long. It was unfair that they could study him, when he hadn’t been able to so much as glance at his reflection in over 200 years. 

Finally, Tav released a heavy sigh, her body curling further in on itself. She closed her eyes as she spoke.

“Because then I would be just like every other bastard in your life who’s mistreated you.”

Astarion flinched in surprise. Those had not been the sort of words he’d been expecting. The truth of them cut deeper than had she raged at him like she wanted to. It left him feeling even more vulnerable, and that in turn made him want to retreat into the comfort of viciousness.

“I don’t need you to pull any punches,” he scoffed, glaring at her. “Go ahead and say what you will.”

She straightened up at his tone, opening her eyes and returning his glare. 

“No. I don’t want to,” she said testily.

“I don’t need your pity,” he hissed. “It’s insulting.”

“Gods damn it all, Astarion!” Tav exclaimed suddenly, causing him to jump in surprise. She threw her hands up in defeat. “I’m not doing anything out of pity! I don’t want to rage at you, because I know that whatever I say right now, I won’t mean it come the morning!”

Astarion blinked. Once again he was left feeling flat footed by the turn of the conversation. Sensing his surprise, Tav continued on with her deluge of words.

“You hurt me tonight, and I’m angry at you - and at Gale, for that matter - for what you did. But you’ve shared enough of your… history… with me, that I realize your behavior is just… just a byproduct of centuries of abuse and manipulation you’ve endured! And I won’t be another abuser in your life. I won’t,” she asserted. 

Astarion continued staring at her, as if she were some otherworldly creature that had just wandered across his path. He watched as Tav inhaled a deep breath, releasing it shakily. She turned away from him to peer out into the forest, uncertain. She opened and closed her mouth several times before actually speaking. As if whatever she was about to say was more intimidating to her than anything else she’d said tonight. 

“I… care deeply for you, Astarion,” she said quietly. “You obviously saw that in the vision. I’m not playing any games. There’s no hidden motive. I’m not trying to manipulate you.”

She turned to look at him again before continuing, her breathing a bit unsteady. 

“I didn’t sleep with you that night of the tiefling party as some sort of maneuver to gain your trust. Although I understand if that was your motivation for doing so.” 

Astarion’s expression morphed into one of guilt. But Tav nodded soberly, as if she had already expected it, before continuing on. 

“It’s okay. I’m not angry. But I’m putting all my cards on the table now, so to speak. Actually, your decision tonight forced my hand, but I had been planning on telling you soon anyway. So, there you have it. The truth of my intentions. What you do with that information is up to you.”

She turned back to gaze out at their surroundings. Like she was giving him the opportunity to bolt away without her watching him. As if she expected him to flee from her confession. 

But Astarion didn’t flee. He remained seated, staring at her in complete wonderment. 

“Why?” he asked quietly.

She looked back at him again, confusion evident on her face. 

“Why what?”

“Why do you care for me? You’re so… well-adjusted. And I’m well… this,” he finished lamely, placing a hand on his chest. 

Tav pursed her lips. “It would be a mistake to misconstrue my empathy for you as me being well-adjusted. Everyone has their own demons, Astarion,” she murmured. “Mine just look different from yours.”

Astarion mulled her words over in his mind, considering them. He leaned forward to brace his forearms on his knees, his head drooping slightly. 

“I…,” he started, unsure. “That vision… what it implied… You deserve something real, Tav. You’re incredible… truly.” 

Tav closed her eyes, bracing for the fallout. Even though she would accept his decision, whatever it was, she didn’t think she could bear to watch him deny her. It would hurt too much. 

“Look. When we met, I had a plan. A nice, simple plan,” he blurted all at once. Rising swiftly to his feet, Tav watched as he began to pace before her, near to bursting with frenetic energy. 

“Seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you’d never turn on me,” he counted off, laughing half-heartedly. “It was… easy - instinctive. Habits from two hundred years of charming people kicked in. All you had to do was fall for it. And all I had to do… was not fall for you… which is where my nice, simple plan fell apart,” he finished, stopping to stand before her. 

She held his gaze, speechless. 

“I want you,” he whispered fervently. “I want what was in that vision… I want us to be something real.”

Never in a million years had she thought he would respond to her like this. She opened her mouth to speak, but Astarion cut her off with another sudden exclamation. 

“I just don’t know what real is,” he confessed, his tone a touch hysterical. Tav knew from his body language that being this transparent was completely out of Astarion’s comfort zone. 

“Being… close to someone - any kind of intimacy - was something I performed to lure people back. For him. Even though I know things between us are different, being with someone still feels… tainted. Still brings up those feelings of disgust, and loathing. I… I don’t know how else to be with someone. No matter how much I’d like to,” he finished, staring at her with beseeching eyes, willing her to understand.

Tav rose to her feet, coming to stand before him. 

“I don’t want you for your body,” she whispered. “Or to perform any acts of intimacy. We can be together, without sleeping together, for as long as you need.”

“Really,” he asked softly, his voice pitched low, rough with emotion.

“Really,” Tav asserted, giving him a small smile. “Would it be all right if…” she paused, conflicted. He eyed her curiously.

“Could I hug you?” she whispered.

The fact that she asked before doing so caused a well of emotion to spring up inside him. Eyes watering, Astarion nodded. 

Slowly, Tav moved forward to wrap her arms around his waist. Her head nestled into the crook of his neck and shoulder. A perfect fit. He felt her exhale a deep sigh.

Tav hugging him was a sensation unlike any he had ever felt. At least, any he could remember feeling. The act of being touched, embraced, without any desire for something more. She just wanted to hold him, feel him close to her. It was incomprehensible to him, but utterly enjoyable, at the same time. 

Slowly, ever so slowly, Astarion raised his arms to return Tav’s embrace. Drawing her even closer, he bowed his head to rest his cheek against her hair. It was soft, like the finest silk. He closed his eyes as he inhaled deeply, appreciating her sweet, floral scent.   

She made to pull away after a moment, not wishing to overwhelm him. But Astarion gripped her more firmly, a silent urge for them to stay that way a little longer. 

“This… this is nice,” he whispered. 

He both felt and heard Tav hum contentedly in response. 

It wasn’t identical to the vision from Tav’s mind that he had seen, but Astarion reveled in their embrace nonetheless. It felt like the beginning of something new. And for the first time in his very, very long life, Astarion felt excited at the prospects of what would come next. 

#astarion #dancingbirdiewrites #bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate astarion #baldur’s gate astarion #astarion x f!reader #astarion bg3 #bg3 astarion fic #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x mc #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic

[lowkeyremi]

jjk men and aftercare ft. Gojo, Choso, Nanami, Toji, and Geto.

a/n: I saw something like this awhile ago and forgot to write abt it but here I am now babyyyy (there is already a part 2 in progress bc i wanna do 10 characters lmaoo) also not proofread bc im tired :P

cw: really suggestive, established relationships, how they are after sex basically :)

Gojo Satoru

When you two first started hitting third base Gojo was all about himself and about how he felt. When you had cleaned yourself up and prepared for bed that night Satoru finally realized something was wrong.

"What's wrong, babe? I thought you liked it??" He asks, worried about his performance in bed. Your silence prompts him to try and figure out what he had done wrong, and honestly he couldn't even think of anything.

"Pleaseeee tell me. I won't know if you don't say anything." Those invasive thoughts that tell you, "you don't matter to him." start to attack your brain once again. He's way out of your league you start to think.

"Aftercare. You didn't even offer to help me clean up, Satoru." Saying it out loud makes you sound kind of petty in your opinion but it does matter.

"OH. Shit baby I'm so so so so sorry!!!!! I- It's just-" He cuts himself off and tries to reword his sentence, "Well, back then I.. I was sleeping around so my pleasure was the only thing that mattered to me. It's different.. you know? Dating. I'm still working out everything. I won't forget next time I promise."

He'd been telling the truth because from then on he always went all out with aftercare. He would run you a bath with your favorite salts and oils, he'd make you your favorite snacks, he'd even cuddle you afterwards until you fell asleep. (rich boyfriend privileges)

Choso Kamo

He'd been waiting so long to finally sleep with you for the first time so he had done all his research prior to the day. He was looking at your dilated pupils, messy hair, and the cum that sat on your stomach.

"Okay so, according to the article I read, I should run you a hot bath, yeah?" He asks nervously.

A small smile braces your lips. In all honesty you probably should have expected this much from Choso. He wants to make sure everything is perfect.

"You looked up aftercare???" You sit up on the bed and a back cramp decides to hit right then and there. As soon as he hears your groan he sprints the the kitchen, only to return with a heat pad.

"Heat pad for cramps?" He's truly nervous, and eager to please you, the love of his life.

"Thank you, Cho. I'll take you up on that bath."

"Of course, I'll get in with you if that's okay." The smile on your face is enough of an answer.

Nanami Kento

YOU ARE WINNING!!!!

Massages, baths, homemade snacks, you name and he'll do it for you. In his mind it's the least he can do for you, because you treat him so well and give him that pretty pussy he loves so much.

"Right here?" He's currently working those skilled fingers into your tight muscles after bending you every which way.

"Ohhh... yes right there, baby. Hurts so muchhhh." You whine and moan at the same time. At this point you two have already bathed and he's made sure to moisturize your body leaving you clean and refreshed.

He seemed to notice the way you limped and asked if you need anything. The sex was good really, but you didn't want to tell him that folding you in half wasn't the best idea. Oh, but he's persistent would not leave you alone until you told him what was wrong.

Once you told him he had immediately sat you down, picked up your favorite lotion and started to work out the kinks in your body.

"I'm so sorry, again." He mumbles quietly.

"Stop apologizing, Kento. These things happen. At least I know to stretch before hand next time." His face softens at your giggles and he presses a small kiss to your thigh.

"Oh do not get me started." A smile creeps up his face, while blush slowly spreads across yours.

Toji Fushiguro

BOOOOOO no aftercare. well maybe not much at least.

Has not properly cared for a woman since his late wife but he realizes if he wants you to stay he'll have to fix that.

At first he would throw a wet rag at you and give a simple, "here clean up." When he got out the shower he was genuinely confused why you were no longer at his apartment.

As soon as you picked up he could tell you were pissed, "What do you want, Fushiguro."

He's a little shocked, did not expect that from you, "I'm your boyfriend so it's Toji and not Fushiguro. The hell is your problem??"

The silence is so loud. For a second he thought you'd hung up on him. "Hello??"

"I'm giving you some time to think about that dumbass question and figure out why I'm mad at you." He clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes too. He's lucky you can't see it.

"Ugh, I don't have time to play the damn guessing game. You're always mad about the little things.. what is it?" He's running through anything he could have possibly done wrong recently.

"Toji, you threw a fucking wet washcloth at me and told me to clean myself up. I'm your girlfriend, not one of your one night stands!" There it is, and the bad part is he doesn't even see what's wrong with that. (at first)

"I don't even give them something to clean up with, I just leave. But damn if you want me to get all fancy and shit I'll try." He scratches his head and begins to wonder why women are so hard to please.

Let me tell you he's no Nanami, but it's getting better. Still falls asleep afterward most times tho :/

Geto Suguru

You do it yourself for the most part, and here's why.

He's over here washing you up in the tub and he can't stop staring at your soapy titties and it just leads to more sex.

It's never just aftercare with him. He's always chasing more. Like that time you asked him to massage your legs after you two had finished fucking in the tub.

"Yeah shit why not? Lotion or oil??" He asks looking through your products.

"Uhhh lotion's fine." You'd grabbed your phone to see if your mother left you a voicemail which she did. She talked about how you need to pick up the phone or at least text her your alive if you're not gonna pick up. You were NOT going to pick up earlier though. Suguru likes to tease and you learned that the hard way when he was eating you out while you were discussing group bonding dinner ideas with your boss over the phone.

Anyway, he made his way to the bed with your lotion and all things went to hell. It was slow at first, nothing too sensual, then of course he had to slip a finger in your pussy and you sat there and stared.

"We are not doing this, we just got out of the bath." You were so serious, but so was he. (you were also aroused so)

"Another bath never hurt anybody, 'fraid of a little water baby??"

(such an annoying whore)

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #satoru x reader #satoru gojo #gojo smut #gojo x reader #choso #choso smut #choso x reader #choso kamo #jjk choso #nanami #nanami kento #kento nanami #nanami x reader #kento nanami x reader #kento x reader #nanami kento x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x reader #toji fushiguro #toji fushigro x reader #geto suguru #jjk suguru #getou suguru x reader #suguru geto #jjk smut #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader

[ellemj]

Letters to Santa, Part 2: 12 Days of Smut #11

Bucky Barnes x Reader 2-Part Fic

Request/prompt courtesy of @stuckysbike. Read part 1 here.

Warnings: profanity, dirty talk, teasing, unprotected sex, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: There is a scene in this that was wholly inspired by one of @littlemiss-yeehaw's latest smutty sketches, check out her blog and comment on the sketch that you think I used! This is a continuation of the request submitted by @stuckysbike, thank you again for submitting it and trusting me to give it a go! I've decided that day 12 will simply be the gift that comes tomorrow (today technically, in less than 24 hours): Needs & Wants Bonus Chapter.

            You can’t deny that you look a little bit like a Christmas gift all wrapped up in your short little burgundy bathrobe. You’ve just finished showering and doing your skincare, and you’re flipping off the bathroom light switch when you hear the softest knock at your door. You stand still for a moment, wondering if you actually heard what you think you heard. The only person who ever comes to your door is one of the girls, and even then, they never knock, they simply let themselves in. You hear the knocking sound a second time and your feet begin carrying you away from the bathroom, across your room, and straight to the door. When you pull it open, Bucky stands before you, looking like he has a million things to say but very few words to utilize.

            “Bucky?” You say his name like you aren’t even sure it’s him, but obviously it is. His eyes are quick to coast down your figure, taking in the sight of you in that little burgundy robe with the tie around your waist fashioned into a bow. You look like a fucking gift. Someone to unwrap me like a Christmas present. The first wish from the list in your dirty letter to Santa flashes through Bucky’s mind as he memorizes every detail about the way you look right now.

            “How much did you have to drink tonight?” He asks, narrowing his eyes at you as he finally focuses his gaze on your face. You scrunch up your cheeks and nose in annoyance. You can’t believe he’d have the audacity to knock on your door and ask you something like that.

            “Why the hell are you here asking me that?”

            “Because if you had a lot to drink, then your letter to Santa ending up underneath my bedroom door might’ve just been a momentary lapse in judgement. But if you didn’t then…” Bucky lets his voice trail off as he studies your expression, looking for any answer to the countless questions he has swirling around in his head.

            “My letter? Under your door?” You ask incredulously. You immediately begin backtracking in your mind, remembering how you started cleaning up the kitchen and totally forgot about the letter you left sitting on the coffee table. One of the girls or Sam must’ve grabbed it and slid it under Bucky’s door as some stupid prank. Your face falls as you realize he very well could’ve opened it and read it. “Wait, you didn’t…” When your shocked eyes look into Bucky’s, he almost wishes he hadn’t read it.

            “So, you didn’t slide it under my door.” Bucky confirms. Why is there a hint of disappointment in his tone? Are you imagining it? Was he hoping that you had? Wait, why the fuck did he decide to knock on your door? Just to ask how much you had to drink and to find out if you gave him the letter yourself? What would he have done if it really had been you? By the time you pull yourself out of your whirlwind of thoughts, you see Bucky giving you one last look before turning on his heel to head back to his own room. All inhibitions flee as you start moving without thinking. There isn’t one thought left in your mind when you reach out and grab Bucky by the arm, stopping him in his tracks. He tenses up as soon as your hand meets the fabric of the sweatshirt that’s covering his flesh bicep, but he doesn’t pull away from you. Instead, he turns back to face you as your hand falls away from him.

            “You read it.” You say softly, not quite sure where your mouth is about to take this unexpected conversation. Bucky nods, his eyes scanning yours for any sort of reaction. “It was a joke letter, just a stupid game Nat wanted us to play.” Bucky nods again, maintaining eye contact with you as you fiddle with the bow at the front of your robe.

            “Right, I can’t imagine you’d actually want someone to cum down your chimney.” Your words written on a piece of paper were dirty, but somehow hearing them leave Bucky’s mouth makes them absolutely filthy. You can feel the blush creeping into your cheeks, turning them a soft shade of pink, as you stare up at the man with your lips slightly parted in surprise. A small smirk tugs on the corners of his lips. You don’t quite like how he’s enjoying your surprised reaction, so you decide to try and get a similar reaction out of him, just so you’ll be even.

            “Why not? It was on my list, wasn’t it? I also asked for three orgasms in one night, if I remember correctly.” Now Bucky’s the one with the parted lips and a raised eyebrow. He probably would’ve even blushed if all of the blood in his body hadn’t rushed straight to his cock. “What was the other thing I asked for?” You can’t remember what else you’d written in the letter, but now you’re sure that Bucky does. Bucky stares at you for a moment, taking in your pink cheeks, your playful gaze, and the way your arms are currently crossed over your chest as you toy with him. He decides to take the leap.

            Bucky slowly reaches out with his flesh hand, giving you every opportunity to either swat his hand away or step back and close the door on him, but you don’t. You follow his movement with your eyes, watching as his fingertips first brush over the fabric around the neck of your robe, and then begin to trail down the front of it lightly until he reaches the bow. He grabs one of the ends of the tie, his eyes flitting up to yours before he makes another move. You don’t say a word. You don’t move a muscle. You’re actually holding your breath. So, Bucky continues. He tugs on the end of the tie with just enough force to unravel the bow and loosen your bathrobe right there in the doorway of your bedroom. You’re still fully covered, but one move and the front of it may fall open and reveal your naked body to the man in front of you. Bucky reaches out with both hands now, as he takes one step forward, limiting the space between the two of you to just a few inches. He wraps his fingers around each side of the opening of your robe, holding them in place so nothing is bared to him, but wanting nothing more than to throw it open. His actions suddenly remind you of the forgotten wish on your list: someone to unwrap me like a Christmas present. Realization spreads across your face and Bucky gives you a soft smile as your eyes meet his.

            “Is this what you asked for?” He questions, rubbing his thumbs over where he holds the fabric of the robe in between his fingertips. You swallow hard and nod slowly. “I know you can use your words, just like you did in the letter.”

Fuck.

“This is one thing.” You answer softly. Bucky could stop here. He could let go of your robe and let you shut the door on him. But the way you’re looking up at him, letting your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you patiently wait for his next move, it makes it impossible for him to stop after only fulfilling one of your wishes. Besides, he hasn’t even fully unwrapped you. It wouldn’t be fair to you if he stopped now.

So, Bucky lets his instincts take over, throwing his rational mind out the window. He looks into your eyes one last time, and you can tell from the lilt in his brow and the serious expression painted on his face that he’s making sure he has your permission. The slight nod that you give him is all he needs. In one swift movement, he’s pulling you against his chest by the front of your robe. When you practically crash against him, he lets his vibranium hand rise to cup the side of your face. His eyes are the most mesmerizing blue, making it simultaneously hard to look into them yet hard to look away. Bucky can’t stop himself from placing his cool, vibranium thumb over your lips, and then dragging it down until it just barely sits between your parted lips. He wants to see how you’ll respond to his touch.

When you part your lips a little more, Bucky knows he’s done for. He won’t be going back to his room at all tonight, he fears. He watches you so closely as his thumb slides past your lips, slipping into your mouth and rubbing over the surface of your tongue as you wrap your lips around it and suck. Fuck. He wishes he’d done it with his flesh hand so he could feel your mouth. Or maybe it’s best that he used the vibranium hand, because if he felt what his vibranium thumb is experiencing right now, he might’ve ended up wanting you to suck him off, and he doesn’t remember seeing that on your Christmas list.

You let Bucky pull his finger out of your mouth with a soft pop of your lips, watching as lust floods into his gaze. In this exact moment, you just want to thank whoever it was that slipped your letter under his door. You have a feeling they did you the biggest favor.

Just a second after Bucky has removed his thumb from your mouth, you’re turning on your heel and heading back into your bedroom, trusting that he’ll follow you without a word. You hear the door click and then the sound of the lock turning just as you reach the foot of your bed. You’re just about to ask Bucky to finish unwrapping you when he’s suddenly right behind you, letting his hands slide over your hips to pull you against him as he leans down and presses his lips to the side of your neck. His mouth is so distracting that you don’t even notice what he’s doing until your robe begins falling off of your shoulders, coming to pool at your feet on the floor. In Bucky’s head, he’s mentally crossing off the first thing on your list.

“You’ll sit on my face.” Bucky says boldly, moving around you and climbing onto your bed like he’s done it a thousand times before. He positions himself on his back, with his head resting flat on your pillow, and his eyes flitting over to get a look at you. The way his gaze trails all over every inch of your naked body lights a fire inside of you, that you think may only be extinguished by riding an orgasm out on his face. So, you don’t question him or second-guess yourself. You do exactly as he wants, carefully positioning yourself to straddle his face. He was planning to take it slow, figure out what you like and what you don’t like, drag you up the hill to your first orgasm slowly. But as soon as he saw your glistening cunt, hovering mere inches above his face, he couldn’t keep himself from gripping your thighs and pulling you down hard. His tongue made contact with your entrance first, and he dove into it with a fiery passion, first dragging his tongue around it in circles, teasing you effortlessly. When you felt the first dip of his tongue inside you, your hands flew to the wooden headboard, holding onto it so tightly that you worried it might splinter.

“Bucky, oh my god.” You moan, letting your right hand float down to tangle in his hair as he licks a line from your entrance, through your folds, and straight to your clit. When he finally starts licking and sucking the sensitive bundle of nerves there, you know you won’t last long like this. Moans and whimpers start falling from your lips freely, spurring Bucky on and encouraging him to hold you in place as he works you closer and closer to the edge. “I’m going to cum.”

Bucky almost laughs against your clit, but he controls himself and continues sucking and swirling his tongue right where you need it most. He almost laughed because of how fucking easy it was to get you on the verge of cumming for him. He knew he was good at this, but he didn’t know you’d be so ready and willing for him to please you. When you go tumbling over the edge, waves of pleasure rock through you so hard that you nearly put all of your weight on Bucky’s face. Truthfully, he would’ve welcomed it, but he also has other plans that he wants to carry out.

As you hover above Bucky, catching your breath and trying to calm your trembling thighs, Bucky places a soft kiss against your clit before sliding his hands up to your waist and helping you move to lay on your back next to him.

“That was number one.” He whispers, crawling over you and pressing his lips against your jawline. He lets the tip of his tongue slide over your cheek teasingly, and when he nears your lips, you can nearly taste yourself on him. He uses his knee to nudge your legs apart while continuing his ministrations along your jaw and neck, drawing soft exhales from you with ease.

“Let me catch my breath first.” You laugh lightly. Bucky’s fingers are already diving between your legs, gently slipping back and forth over your folds as he gathers your wetness and spreads it around.

“That wasn’t something you put on the list, catching your breath after any of the three orgasms.” Bucky points out, focusing the pads of his middle and ring fingers over your already overly-sensitive clit and applying a light pressure. “I think you can handle this.” He coos. Fuck. Your back is already arching, causing your tits to press against his still-clothed chest. You start to wonder why the hell he still has his clothes on, but your train of thought is immediately derailed when you feel his middle finger slip inside of you without a warning. It’s been so long since anyone has done this to you, and even since you’ve taken the time to do it to yourself, so the stretch that you feel gives you a stinging pain that causes you to draw in a sharp breath and tighten around his fingertip. “Oh, you’re so fucking tight. How are you going to be able to take my cock, huh baby?” You aren’t sure what gets the loudest moan out of you, his finger plunging into you as far as he can send it or his words. He plans to fuck you.

“I’ll take it.” You promise, not even thinking about what you’re promising. Bucky chuckles lowly before pulling his finger out of you and shoving it back in, beginning to fuck you with it over and over again.

“You’ll take it.” Bucky agrees, adding a second finger as he looks down into your eyes and watches the way your teeth once again sink into your bottom lip. “You’ll take it if you want that last thing on your list.”

Bucky Barnes promising to cum inside of you is the very last thing you expected to get for Christmas. It’s only a couple of minutes later when he’s thrusting his two fingers in and out of you in such a coordinated manner that you’re seconds from another orgasm. Bucky curling his fingers inside of you is what sends you careening over the edge, your second orgasm crashing in so hard that you reach down and grasp Bucky’s hand, holding it still as you roll your hips, riding your high out on his fingers yourself. He’s in awe of you. He’s in awe of every little movement, every little sound, everything you do as you cum for him.

“That’s number two.” Bucky whispers against your neck, pressing a soft kiss to your smooth skin as you finally release his hand and let him slide his fingers out of you. As soon as your breathing begins to slow back to a normal rate, Bucky is pushing himself off of the bed and pulling his sweatshirt over his head. You prop yourself up on your elbows, taking in the curve of his shoulders, the soft scars where vibranium meets skin, and the heaving of his chest. When he pushes off his sweats and boxers, letting his cock spring free from its confines and finally stand fully on display for you, your mouth falls open. “Remember, you said you’d take it.” Bucky reminds you, wrapping his hand around the impressive length and stroking it slowly as he crawls back over you on the bed. “Turn over.”

Once he has you laying on your stomach, he leans down over you, letting his warm chest press against your bare back. You feel his hard cock resting against your ass as he inhales the sweet scent of your shampoo, closing his eyes and wondering to himself if you’ve always smelled this damn good. The next few seconds are both a blur and seemingly happening in slow motion as Bucky guides you to slide your knees underneath you and raise your ass up for him. Feeling the head of his cock brush against your entrance has you seeing stars, not even from pleasure, but from anticipation and pure adrenaline coursing through your veins.

“Bucky, please.” You moan, pushing your ass against his length, begging for him to fuck you already. He chuckles lowly once again but obliges, rubbing the tip of his cock back and forth through the wetness coating your folds a few more times before finally slotting his cock into you. You feel every inch as it disappears inside you. You feel it move in the slightest every time Bucky so much as takes a breath. He buries himself to the hilt and then stills, his breath fanning across your neck as you bury your face in your pillow. The grunt that rumbles past his lips sends a rush of heat through your body, traveling straight to your cunt, which then flutters around his shaft.

“Oh, fuck, baby.” He groans out, squeezing his eyes shut and dragging his cock out of you slowly. When he thrusts it back in a second later, he can’t bear to stop again. He starts fucking you so hard that you can’t do a damn thing besides moaning out his name and gripping the bedsheets with both hands. It’s a sight Bucky vows never to forget. “This is what you wanted for Christmas, huh? Is this what you wanted?”

“Yes! God, yes, Bucky.” He loves the way you sound when you’re at his mercy like this. He picks up the pace of the snapping of his hips, watching as your knuckles turn nearly as white as the sheets he’s fucking you on.

“That’s it, take my fucking cock just like that.” Never in your wildest dreams could you have conjured up with a dirty talking Bucky Barnes. He’s filthy. He continues thrusting into you, over and over, relishing in the feeling of your pussy pulling him back in every time he tries to pull out. “You’re going to let me cum inside of you, aren’t you? That’s what you want for Christmas.”

“Yes, please. Fuck, don’t pull out.”

“Good girl, that’s it baby.”  Just a few more thrusts from Bucky have you fighting to hold back your orgasm, and he can tell. “Don’t fucking keep it from me, let it go.” He demands, gripping your hips and pounding you into the mattress. Your third orgasm of the night begins with his cock fully seated inside of you. He fucks you through it, chasing his own high as he listens to the dirtiest sounds fall from your parted lips. “Fuck, I’m cumming.” He says the words only half a second before he starts filling you up, fucking his cum in as deep as he possibly can.

A couple of minutes later, Bucky is still laying on top of you, pressing soft kisses to your shoulder and neck as you enjoy the warmth and closeness he offers.

“That was number three.” He whispers, letting his lips ghost over your skin.

“Thank you, Santa.”

TAG LIST:

@mrsjoequinn @nixxaswrld @sweettae02 @frombkjar @hellfirebabe @edelweissbarnes @fandomsfeminismandme @missadored @buchi91 @phoenixstark1708 @mayamacall @wickedwitch-99 @sunnyhummingbee @gyokujyn @jenniferpendragon @thealloveru2 @siciliano13 @ordelixx @crist1216 @twlkdead @claireelizabeth85 @charmedbysarge @wishingforwonderland @blackhawkfanatic @kentokaze

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #mcu #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #marvel #the winter soldier #winter soldier #12 days of smut

[pucksandpower]

Family Feud

Charles Leclerc x Verstappen!Reader

Summary: Max thinks it’s bad enough that his sister is dating his emotional support rival … but did they really have to rub salt in the wound by making him want to puke on national tv?

Warnings: 18+ content mildly implied

You take a deep breath as you walk onto the Family Feud stage, trying to calm the butterflies in your stomach. You never expected to be here, about to face off against your brother and his Red Bull Racing teammates in a battle of wits. But when Fred Vasseur talked to you about potentially doing an episode of the show for charity, you jumped at the chance.

Especially since it meant spending time with your boyfriend.

You glance over at Charles and he winks at you, his smile making your heart flutter.

You could stare into each other’s eyes all day so you force yourself to look away and turn to face the host Steve Harvey as he introduces the teams.

“Welcome to Celebrity Family Feud!” Steve announces. “Today we’ve got two Formula 1 teams ready to compete. Let’s meet the teams!”

Steve starts with the Red Bull Racing team. “We’ve got Team Principal Christian Horner, Red Bull drivers Max Verstappen and Sergio Perez, and AlphaTauri drivers Daniel Ricciardo and Yuki Tsunoda!”

The crowd cheers as the guys wave. Max shifts awkwardly, clearly not comfortable being on stage. You stifle a laugh, knowing he would rather be anywhere than here right now.

“And the Scuderia Ferrari team,” Steve continues, “led by Team Principal Fred Vasseur, with drivers Charles Leclerc and Carlos Sainz, Chief Technical Officer Y/N Verstappen, and reserve driver Antonio Giovinazzi!”

You and your teammates greet the audience. As you pass Max, you ruffle his hair teasingly. “Ready to lose?”

He swats your hand away, rolling his eyes. “You wish.”

Steve explains the rules and then it’s time for the face-off. You and Charles step up to represent Ferrari while Daniel and Max come forward for Red Bull.

“Alright, we surveyed 100 people, top five answers are on the board,” Steve says. “Name something you do to get pumped up before a race.”

You ring the buzzer just before Max. “Listen to hype music!” You shout.

“Listen to hype music!” Steve repeats. “Let’s see if it’s up there!”

You hold your breath as the board flips, revealing your answer in the #2 spot. You and Charles high-five triumphantly.

“Alright, Red Bull, you can steal if you have a better answer,” Steve prompts.

Max thinks for a moment. “Visualize winning,” he tries.

“Good answer, good answer,” Steve nods. But it’s not there. You grin at Charles, knowing Ferrari has taken round one.

The game continues, both teams battling it out trying to guess the survey answers.

You and Charles can’t resist teasing your brother every chance you get.

“What might a Formula 1 driver do to unwind after a long race?” Steve asks next.

You buzz in with a sly smile. “Make love to their partner!”

Charles doubles over laughing as Max makes gagging noises, his face turning bright red.

“Wooowee, let’s see if our survey takers agree! Is making sweet sweet love to their partner on the board?” Steve chuckles. Unbelievably, it shows up as the #4 answer.

“Yes!” You shout, kissing Charles on the cheek. Max is shaking his head, looking like he wants to disappear. You blow him a taunting kiss, which just makes him cringe more.

“Red Bull, you gotta come back from this,” Steve says.

“Uhhh ... play video games,” Daniel guesses but the large red X that appears on the screen shows that Ferrari maintains the lead as you head into the final round.

“Alright, this is for the win. Ferrari just needs 9 points to end this right here,” Steve announces dramatically. “Name something you might find in an F1 driver’s motorhome.”

Charles rings in first. “Condoms!” He calls out, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

You laugh as Max lets out an anguished yell. “Stoooooop!”

“Survey says ... number three answer!” Steve announces. “Ferrari wins!”

Charles grabs you in a celebratory hug, spinning you around happily. You kiss him deeply, not caring that Max is fake vomiting behind you.

You break apart from your boyfriend, glancing back at Max still pretending to gag.

“Ugh get a room,” Max complains.

“Don’t worry, we plan to as soon as we get done with this,” you wink.

Max looks utterly disgusted as always.

“Alright folks, time for the Fast Money round!” Steve announces. “First up for Ferrari is Charles Leclerc!”

You blow Charles a flirty kiss as he takes the stage.

“Name something an F1 driver might eat before a race,” Steve begins.

Charles shoots you a shit-eating grin before winking at the camera. “Their beautiful girlfriend.”

You giggle as Max turns an unnatural shade of red alarmingly similar to your Ferrari branded shirt.

“Let’s see if the survey agrees!” Steve turns to the board.

No match but you don’t care.

Charles fires through the next few questions.

“Name something you’d pack for a race weekend.”

“Handcuffs,” he laughs at Steve’s scandalized expression.

You pretend to fan yourself while Max bangs his head against the podium in agony.

The buzzer sounds and Charles finishes strong. You give him a hug as you take the stage instead.

“Name something associated with F1,” Steve says.

“Fast cars and sexy drivers,” you reply with a wink towards Charles.

Charles blows you a kiss. Max looks ready to walk off stage or stab a mechanic with a fork.

You hope it’s the first option. One mechanic stabber in the family is more than enough, thank you very much.

You match Charles’ style, giving mostly normal answers until …

“Name something you pack for a weekend trip.”

You tap your chin playfully. “Lots and lots of lingerie.”

Charles whistles and cheers as you curtsy. Max is nearly crimson with embarrassment.

“And that’s the game!” Steve concludes. “Congratulations to Ferrari for their big win today on Celebrity Family Feud! $46,000 will be donated to Racing For Kids on your behalf.”

You leap into Charles arms, kissing him deeply. “That’s how it’s done, schatje!”

“We make an unstoppable team,” Charles smiles, dimples on full display, and you swear that some of the women in the audience swoon.

Max just shakes his head as he stomps to the exit. “You two need Jesus.”

But you’re too busy gazing adoringly at Charles to notice. Winning the show was fun but the real prize is having the love of your life by your side.

#f1 imagine #f1 #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 x reader #f1 x you #charles leclerc #cl16 #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc blurb #f1 fluff #f1 blurb #f1 one shot #f1 x y/n #f1 drabble #f1 fandom #f1blr #f1 x female reader #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x y/n #scuderia ferrari #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc drabble

[cheeseceli]

So sweet

Pairing: hwang hyunjin X Gn!reader

Genre: fluff, short drabble

Prompt: "my baby's sweet as can be, she gives me toothache just from kissing me"

Warning: kissing

A/n: hopefully it's not obvious that this is my first time writing a kissing scene lmao. Hope you like it!! | join the 1k event

Hyunjin was in love.

It was clear by every little thing he did. Even a total stranger could figure it out by the way his eyes shone when you weren't around and how he got lost in you whenever you were. Tonight was a perfect example of this.

He was at your doorstep, waiting for you to come and open the door. He wasn't sure you were at home to begin with, but he really hoped you were. It's been a long day at practice and he didn't want to go back to the dorms just yet. He needed to see you at least once.

That's the part where the stranger would know Hyunjin is a man in love. They would know by the way his eyes lighten up as he saw you read his message and how the curves of his lips turned into a smile - the most genuine one he had the whole day - the moment he heard your keys unlocking the door.

And then he saw you.

If he didn't know any better, he could swear he was actually dreaming. There was no way that someone could make his heart beat like crazy by simply existing. Maybe that was the beauty of things. He loved you because that was the only response his being could have the moment it saw you for the first time. And it remains being the only possible thing he could feel til this day.

"Hyunjin? What are you-"

You didn't finish your sentence. You couldn't since his lips were now pressed in yours firmly, but gently. He needed that, he needed you, you could notice. And just like that he answered all your questions.

His kiss was passionate although he was holding you carefully. It was like honey - a strong but soft flavour. Sweet. And by the way you could feel his smile in the kiss, and how his hands holding your waist pulled you closer, you knew he was addicted.

After a few moments he finally stepped back in order to breathe, but he didn't let go of you still. His forehead was resting in yours while his hands were caressing the skin in your waist softly. And he was looking at you, lost in you.

He didn't seem to remember the real world. He looked like he couldn't care less about the fact that you both were still at your doorstep or that any neighbours could see you. All he could focus on was the lingering taste of your lips on his.

"Hi" you broke the silence with a giggle.

"Hi" he whispered back. You looked so beautiful, so he couldn't help but ask "can I kiss you again?"

Masterlist | you'll probably like: what do you even know?

Thank you for reading <3

Taglist (open!): @yuyubeans

Image credits 1 , 2 and 3 | Dividers by @cafekitsune

#celi 1k event #celi drabble #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #stray kids soft hours #stray kids soft thoughts #skz x reader #skz x you #stray kids x reader #stray kids hyunjin #stray kids imagine #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fic #skz imagines #skz #stray kids #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin scenario #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin

[vivwritesfics]

Rookie Season - OP81

Oscar and Y/N hate each other, until they don't

2K

"And that's Y/N L/N in the AlphaTauri in the points!" The commentator shouted as Y/N crossed the finish line in P9.

"Woo!" She shouted down the radio. "Fuck yeah!"

"That's brilliant, Y/N, first points of the season," said her engineer.

"We did it! We did it!" She continued to shouted. "We'll be celebrating tonight, boys!"

It was her debut season on Formula One, after having milled about in Formuma 2 for a couple of years. She'd moved up with her good friend Logan and her old rival Oscar.

She and Oscar. Where were they to begin?

They weren't like other rivals, where they left it all on the track. They really really hated each other. In F2, they were always fighting each other for places, sending the other off the track and going into each others sides. Their fights cost their teams way too much in damages, somebody needed to intervine.

When Oscar got bumped up into McLaren, Y/Ns team thought all of their problems were solved. Y/N could race without fighting Oscar every lap.

But then Y/N announced her addition to Scuderia AlphaTauri F1 team. Still, it came as a relief to her old F2 team. She may still have been battling Oscar, but it wasn't on their dime.

At the start of the season, when Y/N and Oscar was at the back of the grid, things were messy. Y/N had to DNF once because of him and Oscar almost had to because of her.

"Hey asshole, thanks for that one," she said with a sarcastic grin as she interrupted his interview once upon a time.

Netflix was going to have a field day with them.

Now they were towards the end of the season, Y/N and Oscar were no longer fighting each other. Oscar was fighting with the likes of Max Verstappen while Y/N was in the mid field, fighting in an underperforming car.

She missed him.

No, not him. She didn't miss Oscar, not one bit. But she did miss the fighting they would do.

"How did Piastri do?" She asked as she followed Fernando Alonso into the pit lane.

For a moment, Y/N's engineer didn't answer her. She waited, ready to prompt him again, when he answered. "Uh, P3 for Piastri," her engineer answered, somewhat hesitantly.

"Of fucking course," Y/N muttered under her breath as she climbed out of the car.

***

Watching Oscar on the podium. It hurt, but Y/N didn't show it on her face. There was no denying he was a good driver, he wouldn't be in F1 otherwise. She should have been up there with him, though.

No, not with him. She didn't want to be on the podium with Oscar. She should have been on the podium instead of him.

That night, they went out. Most drivers had nothing to do on the Monday so they went out to blow off steam from the race. Well, those frustrated (which now included Y/N) went out to blow off steam, the rest went out to celebrate.

It was Max, the McLaren boys, the AlphaTauri drivers, the Ferrari boys, Daniel, Fernando, Alex, and the Alpine pair.

Y/N spent most of the night dancing with Esteban or Daniel, singing along to the songs and simply going crazy. At one point Fernando had her on his shoulders as he passed a shot up to her.

A little bit after midnight, Y/N went t the bar to get herself another drink. She leaned against the counter, card tapping against the counter top.

But she wasn't alone. No. The very man she hated stood beside her, ready to order his own drinks.

"Fuck you!" She shouted, her words slurring, but Oscar couldn't hear her over the music.

He held out his hand, waited for Y/N to take it and then pulled her in close. "Congratulations on the points," he shouted into her ear, but Y/N could barely hear it.

"Good job on the podium," she replied equally as loud, wearing a scowl as she did so.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

But Y/N didn't hear that. Her scowl turned to a frown as she stared at him, but Oscar ordered her a drink anyway. He passed it to Y/N, who looked at it suspiciously. But Oscar wasn't like that. He wasn't that kind of person. As much as Y/N didn't like him, he wasn't a bad person.

She thanked him, although he couldn't much hear, and turned to find Esteban and Fernando once again. But they were gone, nowhere to be found. It was hard to lose Esteban, since he was so damn tall, but Y/N couldn't see him anywhere.

"Shit," she muttered under her breath and turned back to the Aussie.

There were two important rules Y/N followed when she went on a night out. Keep your drink covered and stay with your friends. She had her hand over the top of her cup as she approached Oscar again.

Wrapping her arms around her neck, she pulled him down so that her mouth was level with his ear. "Can I stay with you? Everybody else has disappeared!"

Oscar nodded his head as he stood up straight.

He wrapped his arm around her and led her over to the dance floor.

At first, Y/N was awkward. She wasn't quite letting loose as much as she was with the others. This was Oscar, her rival on and off the track. She just swayed as she looked at him, an uncomfortable smile on her face.

Have you ever been in the club when your favourite song comes on? How absolutely feral you go? Jumping up and down and shouting the lyrics? That was exactly what happened to Y/N.

She was bobbing her head and swaying when the last song finished up. And then her favourite song came on. Y/N's eyes went wide. She jumped along to the melody and shouted the lyrics at Oscar, who was more than happy to indulge her.

Throughout the night, Y/N and Oscar danced and dank and sang. They went on through the night, dancing until the club was shutting and their feet hurt.

Oscar took Y/N home. He practically had her over his shoulder as he got her back to the hotel room. She'd be hungover for her flight tomorrow, Oscar thought as he took her key card and let her into her room.

***

The last thing Y/N remembered was losing her friends and getting on the dance floor with Oscar. Her head was pounding as she woke up, the light coming through her open window blinding. "Shit," she grumbled and put her arm over her aching eyes.

For five minutes Y/N did nothing. She laid there, trying her best not to throw up. And then her alarm went off, the one that gave her twenty minutes to get her things ready before the car came to pick her up and take her to the airport.

Her movements were sluggish as she packed away her things and made her way out of the hotel room. Sunglasses covered her eyes, the lights from the hallway far too bright for her liking.

"Oh my God," muttered Yuki as he met her in the lobby of the hotel. They were travelling together, since they were such good friends and both heading home to Milton Keynes. "You look fucking horrible."

"Thanks, Yuk's. That makes me feel fantastic."

"How late did you stay out?"

Y/N shrugged her shoulders. "Until the place closed, same as you,"

A laugh left Yuki's lips. She really was in a sorry state. "We left way before it closed, Y/N. You with Oscar so we left you there. Are you guys friends yet?"

That was a good question - one Y/N didn't have an answer for. If she and Oscar had become friends during the night, she didn't remember it. And she couldn't ask him about it now, could she?

There would be nothing more embarrassing then calling up Oscar and asking him everything that happened the night before. Y/N was pretty sure she hadn't done anything too bad. She was pretty sure she hadn't confessed her love for him while they danced, pressed up against each other. She was pretty sure she didn't love him.

Love him? No, they were rivals. Rivals don't fall in love. That isn't how the story goes, not in real life, anyway.

There was a good two weeks Y/N didn't have to see Oscar. A blissful two weeks that Y/N spent at home in Milton Keynes. Those two weeks were filled with training and sim racing, Y/N practicing for the next grand prix.

In those two weeks she didn't think about Oscar once.

Okay, that's a lie. She couldn't help herself from thinking about Oscar, about the last time she saw him, about how much she couldn't remember. Would it really be such a bad thing if they weren't enemies? Would it really be so hard to try and get along with him?

Having a rival wasn't much fun. Sure, it was entertaining for the fans, but it was a miserable existence for those actually involved. A rivalry meant that every time Y/N saw him on the track, this horrible, nasty feeling would bubble up inside of her.

It seemed, though, like Y/N wasn't the only one thinking about this. It seemed like this was just playing on her mind.

Y/N turned her phone off, after that. She and Oscar weren't rivals anymore, but they weren't exactly friends.

Oscar texted her some more, but Y/N didn't answer them. It was such a shift in dynamics, she wasn't sure what she was supposed to do. She didn't text Oscar back, didn't know what she was supposed to say to him now.

Y/N didn't stop thinking about him, though. Actually, things just got worse. She couldn't stop thinking about his eyes, his hands, his lips. The way his eyes would almost close when he laughed, that resting sort of scowl he wore as he walked around. It wasn't a proper scowl, just the way his lip would slightly curl whenever he was doing anything or nothing.

Y/N didn't know what to expect from the next grand prix. She and Oscar always had to do the press conferences together. They'd sit on opposite ends of the couch, the only questions being sent their way being about their rivalry.

When the press conference was over, Y/N made her way outside, into the fresh air. Still, she and Oscar were getting asked about their rivalry, the rivalry that didn't exist. She didn't answer any questions that day, letting Oscar do it instead.

"Hey!" Oscar called as Y/N marched away.

Stopping, she spun on her heel to face him. "What, Oscar? What do you want?"

As usual, Oscar were that scowl, the one Y/N knew not to take too seriously. When he looked at her, his stance was tense. But Oscar dropped it as he looked at her. "Nothing," he muttered as he shook his head. "Forget about it."

With his head down, Oscar turned to walk away. Guilt settled in the pit of Y/N's stomach. They weren't rivals anymore; she didn't have to treat him like such shit.

"Oscar, wait!" She called as she walked after him, reaching over to grab his wrist.

Suddenly they were close, stood closer than they had before. Especially while they were sober. Oscar stared down at her, unmoving, unwilling to walk away. Y/N stared up at him, at that scowl he still wore.

And then she was moving, body moving forward until she was pressing her lips to his. There were probably cameras on them, either Netflix or Sky or some other form of media. The drivers they'd been in the press conference with, who were going to walk back to their garages until they saw Y/N and Oscar and the potential argument about to happen.

Oscar kept his hands at his sides as Y/N moved hers up to his neck. Her eyes were closed; she couldn't see what was happening. But then she felt hands on the side of her face, holding her there as they kissed.

Oh, they definitely weren't rivals anymore. Were they still even friends? Y/N didn't know. The only she did know was that she didn't want to stop kissing him.

#oscar piastri #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri x female reader #oscar piastri x reader smut #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri x you #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula one #formula one imagine #formula one x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #op81 #op81 imagine #op81 x reader

[littlejuicebox]

My Sun, My Moon

Pairing: Spawn Astarion x GN!Reader/Tav Summary/Setting: 6 months post BG3 / Part 2 to my other fic Astarion talks in his sleep. Rating/Warnings: PG-13 / In game spoilers / Alludes to sexual encounters / Mentions of past trauma etc / Pretty much all fluff / It’s so sweet it’s going to rot your teeth Word Count: 2.3K Notes: This is 5/5 Days of "Star-mas!"

*takes a bow* Happy Holidays! Hope you all enjoyed!

I'm also entering this into the #BG3HolidayFluffle23 challenge under the prompt "twinkling lights."

Click here to see my master list.

-----

After Astarion’s sleep-talking gave away his little secret, you’d spent nearly every waking moment anticipating the rogue’s proposal. You were horribly, terribly wrong every time, of course. You began to think that perhaps your original assumptions were right, and that an engagement would come much later on. Maybe he wasn’t quite ready. Maybe he was just planning and thinking about the future… the frustratingly distant future. He’d ask the question when he was ready, you reasoned; in his own time and on his own terms. You could respect that.

But then, on the eve of the Netherbrain Battle’s six month anniversary, you came home to a dinner that Astarion had cooked (almost) entirely himself. Candles were lit, table settings were placed, and your lover chose an expensive wine pairing for the meal. His steak was, of course, entirely raw while yours was seasoned and cooked to perfection. You were certain you had Shadowheart to thank for your half of the meal, but you’d complimented your lover and all his efforts, nonetheless. At the end of dinner, you were quite confident that this would be the moment you’d been waiting weeks for.

“I have something to say.” Astarion murmured, lithe fingers rubbing circles on the back of your hand as he clasped it in his own.

You practically felt your soul leave your body in that moment. Oh gods, you knew what your answer would be, you knew this was coming, and yet here it was, and you were still wholly unprepared. You barely fumbled out a, “Y-yes, my love? What is it?”

“I read your mail.” Astarion responded, his eyes flooding full of guilt at the confession. He expelled a small sigh, flicking his gaze up at the ceiling and then back down to you. “Darling, I know we have been discussing this for months, but I really don’t think we should go to the Underdark. You’re getting so many outstanding offers that require you to remain in the city. You’re the hero of Baldur’s Gate, for god’s sakes. I know you want me to be safe from the sun… but I can’t, in good conscience, do that to you and rip you away from so many wonderful opportunities.”

“O-oh…” Your chest deflates and you catch yourself frowning for just a moment. Astarion’s brow furrows as he incorrectly interprets the cause of your sudden mood shift to be the current conversation and not the crushing disappointment you were trying to shove aside. You quickly try to move into a more neutral expression, but the rogue is already jumping into another worried explanation.

“Darling... Please hear me. I love you more than anything, and I know you better than anyone. You will not be truly happy there, of that much I am absolutely certain. These offers you’re receiving will give you multiple avenues to build the life you want…. the life we want. Imagine the good you could do with that level of influence, my love! Let me help you; I can review contracts, negotiate deals… whatever you need to ensure your success. Do not throw away so much potential on my account. I simply couldn’t live with myself if you did.”

He was right, of course. The only thing you wanted almost as much as you wanted Astarion was to continue the good work you two had been doing for Baldur’s Gate.

You sigh and nod your head, squeezing his hand gently. “You’re right, my love. I suppose it would be silly for both of us to throw away so much opportunity.”

Astarion beamed at your response before leaning over the table to plant a kiss on your lips. You smiled at the rogue when he pulled away to look at you with adoring crimson eyes. Perhaps it hadn’t been the conversation you were hoping for, but it had been a good and much needed one, nonetheless.

-----

Tonight, you and Astarion decided to take a stroll around the city. You were following the vampire’s lead, ambling around the streets as he pointed out more than a few of his old haunts. He revealed some of the difficult moments in his past as you two meandered about… more than one of the tales nearly made you cry with an overwhelm of sympathy for your lover. But you held back, knowing the elf hated eyes full of pity almost as much as he’d hated Cazador.

You noted that Astarion seemed to look back on his experience with more acceptance now. You knew, of course, that there were likely an infinite number of stories he had not yet revealed to you and perhaps never would. But you were still happy to see a bit of lightness in him as he spoke his truth. He hadn’t appeared to have one of his episodes on the entire walk, and as you pondered this, you also realized his night terrors had only occurred a handful of times this month. Such an improvement to what had been an almost daily incidence when you two originally moved in together.

Before long, you and your love arrived at the docks, where just over six months ago you’d felt as if you’d been stabbed in the gut as you watched the rays of sunlight scorch the vampire until he was forced to run for cover. But now, you two stood there hand in hand, resting in a pocket of comfortable silence. Both of you were admiring the twinkling starlight, full moon, and dark, mysterious expanse of the sea.

“The stars were so much more beautiful in the wilds… don’t you think, my sweet?” Astarion asks, his eyes filled with wistfulness as he ponders the sky.

You utter a little hum of agreement as your mind flashes to the first night in camp, when you caught Astarion reclined on his bedroll, stargazing. You turned your head to look at the rogue and remind him of the memory, but found he disappeared from your line of sight. Your vision wanders down and there he is, bent on one knee.

Oh this had to be the moment. Just when you were about to shout yes before the rogue even had a moment to say anything, Astarion looks up and smiles, a small pouch of gold coins in his hand. “Look! I suppose it’s our lucky day, darling. Their loss is our gain, would— are you alright, Tav? You’ve got this strange look on your face.”

Gods, not again. You feel your face flush with embarrassment. In your excitement and overwhelm, you’d almost ruined everything and let Astarion know that you knew his little secret. You made the decision then and there that this would be the last time you anticipated his proposal; let it happen when it’s meant to happen. You were done playing the guessing game. You couldn’t ruin everything with your big fat mouth.

You nod your head slightly before turning to look back at the stars once more, taking a deep breath and hoping to settle yourself.

“Yes, my love. I suppose I’m just thrilled by the beauty of the stars and the full moon, tonight. And by your beauty, of course.”

The rogue stands up, tucking the small sachet in his pocket. He smiles and places a soft, loving peck on the apple of your cheek before wrapping his arm around your waist. The two of you look up at the stars once more, and you spend a few moments pointing out some constellations in the sky. Stargazing had been one of the first things you two bonded over in camp.

Astarion is watching you with devoted interest as you ramble on about the planets and the mythological creatures represented by the patterns in the stars. Finally, there is a small lapse in conversation, and you want to take the opportunity to kiss him, but when you turn, the vampire is once again out of your sight line.

When you look down this time, Astarion is looking up at you, holding a velvet box in shaking hands.

“Tav—" He manages to choke out, but then his eyes fill with tears, and he stops to blink them away, chuckling softly at himself. You immediately come to kneel in front of your love, hands pressed to either side of his face, silently urging him to continue.

The vampire inhales shakily, suddenly quite overwhelmed by the extreme vulnerability he knows he’s about to lay before you. But the softness of your hands on his face grounds him in the moment and he smiles, admiring the look of utter adoration in your eyes.

A couple of tears fall over the edge of his lash line, and you immediately swipe them away with your shaking thumb. Another chuckle escapes the silver-haired elf, and he shakes his head in disbelief.

“My love… I’ve rehearsed this for weeks. I’ve said it all out loud more than a thousand times, I’m sure. I’ve spent almost every opportunity in your absence practicing this. One time I even had Shadowheart pretend to be you while I rehearsed my grand speech. But now that we are here… I’ve nearly forgotten everything I wanted to say.”

You move forward to press a kiss to Astarion’s lips, your hands still shaking as you run your thumb over his cheekbone. “It’s okay, my Star. Please continue, when you’re ready… rehearsed or from the heart… I want to hear it all the same.”

Astarion nods just a fraction and inhales. The shaking hand that is not holding the ring box comes to lay atop your own hand resting on his face. Your love slowly, absently runs his thumb along the back of your palm as he gathers his thoughts. He stares into your eyes with so much love that you almost kiss him again but hold yourself back to allow him to continue.

Astarion exhales a shuddering breath and then continues in a reverent tone, as if he’s whispering a prayer, “My darling. I have lived long life. Much of it was a sad and hopeless one. When we were walking through the city, I pointed out several places where I’d encountered horrible things. Many of those things are still hard to talk about… some of it, I don’t know that I will ever be able to.”

You are crying now, from the overwhelming blend of sympathy for your little Star and palpable feeling of love in this beautiful moment. Tears begin coursing thin streams down your cheeks. Astarion wipes away the tears as they fall, though his lips start trembling from your display of emotion.

“B-but what I do know is that… in many of the places I pointed out, there are also memories of us. Of our friends. Of the time we spent together before saving the city and of the six months we’ve spent here after that. Little by little, we are taking places that only held horrible memories for me and turning them into places that hold feelings of hope and happiness.

I guess what I’m saying is that… these past six months have been the counterweight to two hundred years of misery. And I do not think I deserve you, but I cannot imagine my life without you. You are everywhere I go, everywhere I look, and every happy memory I hold in my heart. If you’ll have me… I would like to spend the rest of our lives, however long they may be, turning this city into a place of hope for us and for the people we hold dear.”

Astarion opens the box, and you gasp in true awe as he reveals possibly the most beautiful ring you’ve ever seen. At the center is a beautiful moonstone, emitting an ethereal glow that shines brilliantly in the darkness of the pier. The setting is gold, and an intricate sunburst pattern made in smaller gems surrounds the center stone.

“Standing on the dock that day, after that long battle… I had the thought that my life was ruined when I realized I could no longer stand in the sun. I thought I might never know true happiness again. But it turns out, that was the moment my new life with you began… and you’ve opened the door to more happiness than I could’ve ever imagined for myself.

Even if I never see the sun again, I have made my peace. I would make the choices I made to be here with you, on this dock, in this moment, again and again in every lifetime. You are my sun and my moon. And my darling, it would be my honor to be your Star for the rest of time. Tav… will you marry me?”

As soon as the question comes out of your lover’s lips, you instantly push forward to crash into Astarion, enveloping the elf in an emotional kiss. You both topple over from the sheer force of your ardor, and as you do, the vampire deftly snaps the ring box closed to protect it from spilling out onto the dock.

When you finally break away, panting heavily, both your faces are thoroughly flushed with excitement. The vampire looks up at you, scarlet eyes filled with absolute devotion. You giggle and press one more soft kiss to the rouge before taking your hand in his and pressing a kiss to his knuckle. “Yes, Astarion. Nothing in this life would make me happier than to share it with you.”

-----

Later that evening, the two of you are naked in bed after several rounds of vigorous celebration. You’re admiring your ring, which is still faintly glowing in the semi-darkness of your bedchambers. Astarion takes your hand and presses his lips to the ring with a small smile; his scarlet eyes closely examine the gem.

“I don’t know how it works… you would have to ask Gale. But the center stone glows when I think of you, you know.”

You blink, moving to touch the gemstone in the middle of the ring with curiosity. “But it hasn’t stopped glowing since we’ve been on the docks.”

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you since we’ve been on the docks.” Astarion replies simply, moving his hand to stroke your cheek as a gentle, good-natured laugh escapes his mouth, “Perhaps now you’ll have some insight into how often my thoughts revolve around you, my sweet.”

You feel your eyes welling with tears again. Damn this man and his beautiful heart… he truly never misses a detail when it comes to you. You move forward to pull his lips into another loving kiss, and when you break away this time, a thought crosses your mind.

“Astarion… did you really find that bag of coins on the dock?”

Your lover grins mischievously, his crimson eyes crinkling at the corners as he grabs your ring-clad hand and kisses it once more.

“No, my sweet. But I had to throw you off. Shadowheart told me about my mishap. I wanted to surprise you… but you know me far too well and you’ve never been easily fooled… and the sleepy confession didn’t help things at all. I just figured that you would never anticipate that I’d drop down on one knee twice in a row.”

Astarion knew you just as well as you knew him… and he had been right. He’d fooled you. You roll your eyes and chuckle as the rogue moves closer to you, nuzzling into the side of your neck where fresh fang marks throbbed.

“Now what do you say, darling? One more round of celebration before we go to bed?”

#astarion fanfic #astarion fic #astarion x tav #baulders gate 3 #baulders gate astarion #baulders gate tav #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfic idea #tav x astarion #astarion x you #astarion x reader #astarion x gender neutral reader #astarion x gn reader #astarion x gn!tav #astarion romance #astarion fluff #bg3 fluff #bg3 fanfic #baldurs gate astarion #astarion #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #astarion ancunin #5 days of starmas #bg3holidayfluffle23

[cryptidghostgirl]

Can I request a part 3 to "unrequited"?

A/N I honestly was not planning another part to this story. I'm just gonna... leave this here. (Pls don't hate me guys. This is so genuinely the only path I could think of for this story that I liked.)

Unrequited pt. 3 (Alastor x Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: Um. Alastor is dark/yandere in this part. Uh. Unhealthy relationship. Yeah.

Word Count: 2,094

Previous Parts:

Unrequited (Alastor x Reader)

Unrequited Pt. 2

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Alastor had cornered her in the hall. The years, the games, the challenges, none of it was fun anymore. It all came to an end tonight. There was no other option, not when she could die tomorrow. The angels were coming, and they were coming for the hotel.

"I don't want you here tomorrow."

"What!?" Y/n exclaimed in utter shock.

She hadn't known what to expect when Alastor had stopped her as she made her way downstairs to the bar. Everyone was supposed to be having a drink together, celebrating their afterlives that there was a chance they might loose. She didn't know what to expect but, she certainly hadn't expected this.

Alastor had been acting weird lately. He was always weird but ever since the day with Husk in the hallway, he'd been weird even by those standards. He was always finding something for Y/n to do that put her near him, always watching. It was irritating. They had been fighting a lot and Alastor still had yet to apologize to Husk.

"I don't want you at the hotel tomorrow. You are not coming near this fight."

"What the fuck, Alastor?" Y/n nearly stamped her foot on the floor, she crossed her arms and glared at the demon, "I... these are my friends. This is my home. I will do what I can to protect it."

"No, you wont. You wont be here." he paused, "I will use our little deal to make sure of that, if need be."

Y/n scoffed. Her anger was a fiery, radiant thing. Alastor found himself thinking she had always reminded him quite a bit of a lioness when she got like this. The thought had been an accident, he couldn't afford to be distracted. Not when these were the stakes. Alastor pushed it away.

"You fucking... literally why? Like, what? I... sorry, just taking me a bit to process this: the demon who tricked me into selling my soul to them is now going to use that contract to take me, a valuable asset, out of a war which we cannot afford to loose?"

"Yes." Alastor nodded.

"Because?" Y/n prompted in irritation after a moment.

Alastor sighed.

"Y/n, think about what could happen if you are here."

"The same thing that could happen to any one here!" Y/n threw her arms up in exasperation, gesticulating her frustration as she spoke, "The same thing you're forcing on Husk and Nifty, have you had this chat with either of them?"

Alastor didn't respond. It was all the answer she needed.

"Yeah, I didn't fucking think so!" she scoffed, "So it's okay for everyone to risk their lives -- it's okay for you to risk your life even, but not me? Its okay for you to force my friends to risk their lives, but you're going to force me to stay out of it? Listen to yourself, you sound ridiculous."

"We don't need your help. You're slow, you will only hold us back."

The comment he had hope would dampen Y/n's spirit, bend her will into submission, only added to her fire.

"I'm... that's bullshit and we both know it. I might be small, but so is Nifty. Everyone has skills they can offer. I know how to fight, how to survive, and we will have angelic weapons for Christ's sake. Like, I really don't understand what the issue your having is here."

"Y/n, just... no." Alastor shook his head, a hand to his temples, "No. You will not be here tomorrow. I forbid it. I'm sending you to stay with Rosie."

"What am I, your kid?" Y/n sneered.

Alastor looked over at her, his hand falling from his forehead.

"Just please, Y/n." he took a step forward, pulling her hands into his. Alastor took a deep breath. "For me."

Y/n's eyes went wide. Alastor could see the conflict, the swirling emotions. Anger turned to grief, mixed with gratitude, and became anger again. A never ending cycle.

His heart pounded against his chest, it fought him valiantly for release. It had been so long. So long since she'd looked at him with anything other than disgust, so long since she had let him touch her like this.

Y/n settled on confusion as her dominant emotion and pulled her hands from his grasp. Alastor mourned the contact, his hands still held up in the air where hers had met them as Y/n took a step away.

"Why."

It wasn't a question. Y/n commanded information and at the end of the day, he may own her soul but she owned his heart. Alastor felt like in some way, she always had. He couldn't bear the thought of loosing her but, he didn't know if he could handle the rejection either. There was no way, no chance, she would believe him if he told her too much of the truth but, lying wouldn't work either. It would have to be a careful balance, a calculated withholding of information. Too much was riding on tomorrow, on tonight, on this very moment.

"Because I don't want you to die."

Y/n's brow furrowed even further, their eyes growing wider still as she stumbled another step back. Her back was nearly against the wall now, there wasn't anywhere else she could go.

Her eyes flitted around the space fervently. Her lips formed words that never left her mouth. Alastor watched, stress eating him alive. At last, Y/n did something. She brought her hands to her head and sunk to the floor, her knees pulled into her chest.

"What are you doing to me." she muttered softly, just barely loud enough for him to hear.

For what felt like the thousandth time, Alastor felt a little piece of his heart fracture off. He didn't know how much more he could take of this before there was nothing left to break, nothing left to loose. She looked up at him, her hands still holding either side of her head and her eyes wet with tears.

"Why do you care?"

Alastor's breath caught in his throat. There was an insistence in her voice, a pleading. He stood in indecision for a moment, frozen by want, by need, by fear. His body took over as he took a step towards Y/n. Alastor kneeled down in front of her.

With great care, with a familiarity and gentleness Y/n hadn't felt from him in years, Alastor untangled her fingers from her hair. He held her hands in his once again and this time, he wasn't going to let go.

"Because I care about you."

Shock at his own bravery emanated from his chest. Alastor held his breath.

"You..." Y/n's eyes hardened, "I wish you'd stop messing with my head like this. Its not funny."

"Y/n, I'm not messing. I am not playing a game, I'm not..." Alastor sighed, letting go of one of Y/n's hands and running his hand through his hair as he looked to the side.

Taking a deep breath, he turned back to face her, grabbing her free hand once again.

"I don't know what I can do to prove it to you, that I'm not. But I will keep you safe. No matter what, you will not be here tomorrow."

"Please, Alastor."

His heart stopped. He couldn't recall the last time she'd asked him for anything that wasn't to leave her, Husk, and Nifty, alone. He couldn't recall the last time she'd seemed to fragile in his arms.

"Please, they're... they're my family. I can't..." a single tear rolled down Y/n's cheek, "I can't just leave them."

"I..."

There was a moment, a split second where he almost agreed. Alastor's eyes narrowed. He dropped Y/n's hands and got back to his feet. She adjusted her position in response, nearly kneeling before him.

"Please, Alastor. Let me help them. Let me do what I can to protect my family. Please. I'll do anything you want... I'll..."

It almost worked. Alastor felt his purpose waver again. Then the fear came back. He had already lost so much. His mother, his humanity, his own soul and free will. Alastor refused to add Y/n to the list of things that were so far out of his reach. He just couldn't. He didn't care if she hated him for the rest of eternity, as long as it meant she was safe at his side.

"No." he shook his head, his heart hardening, "You forget, you already have to do whatever I want. You forget, I own you."

Y/n's scream of anger as the shadows took her was muffled as she was sucked into their portal. Alastor stood, watching the spot she had been in for a few moments and then, he doubled over in pain. It shot through him in spikes, in daggers. It was the first time he had told her that. Not once before had Alastor ever said those three words to Y/n, not even when they had first made their deal. I own you.

The guilt, the regret, all of it underpinned by the overwhelming love. It had been trapped for so long, so sheltered and pushed back in the recesses of his mind that it had twisted. The love had become obsessive, dangerous, hungry.

With a breath, Alastor stood straight once again. Pushing his composure back to the surface, he smoothed his hair and went down to the bar to inform everyone of his decision. He may have forced Y/n to do something she didn't want to, fracturing things further than he'd believed possible, but he wasn't going to blame her for it. Alastor was used to being the villain and hopefully, in this case, he wouldn't have to be. Hopefully, they would understand.

Y/n gasped for breath as she was let out of the shadow portal. Panting on all fours, slowly she brought herself back together. Y/n had met Rosie before, once or twice. She knew she was a kind soul at heart, a reasonable person, and she knew that Rosie's cannibals were the main force of their army tomorrow. All she had to do was convince the overlord to let her join them, and it would be okay.

Taking a deep breath to restore her confidence, Y/n looked up. Her heart dropped.

"No."

She got to her feet, looking carefully around the decrepit old radio tower.

"No. Nonono."

Her breaths becoming panicked, she ran to the door. It was locked. Taking a step back, she kicked it harshly. The firm wood didn't budge.

Driven by adrenaline alone, Y/n ran to the windows and began to hit them with all her might. None of them so much as trembled.

"No!"

She looked wildly around the space and, spotting Alastor's chair, picked it up. Y/n hurled it at the window. There was a crash and for a split second, there was hope. That was until she realized it was the chair that had broken, not the window.

"No! No!"

Turning back to the door, she hurled her body repeatedly against it. Each time, she got the biggest running start she could. Each time, there was no change at all, nothing happened. Fresh tears pooled in her eyes, she was long past panicked now.

"NO!"

After about twenty minutes, Y/n was out of breath and exhausted. Her whole body hurt and her face was sticky with tears. She sat at the door, her back pressed against it and her knees pulled into her chest. Burying her face in her legs, she sobbed.

Everyone was at the hotel, except for her. Everyone was preparing to fight for and protect what they loved, except for her. What would they think? What would they say? Much more importantly, would they make it out?

A sudden fear gripped her, a fist around her heart. Would she ever see any of them again? Y/n's sobs redoubled.

"Fucking..."

She sniffed, her panic and grief quickly fixing itself back in the shape of the familiar anger. She could see him in her minds eye, that moment his eyes had softened, that moment she thought that maybe he had been telling the truth all along, that they really had been friends, that he really did care.

"I hate you Alastor!" she screamed to herself, alone in the dark, "I hate you and I will continue to hate you until the day I fucking die again!"

----

A/N I love an irredeemable villain and doomed, misshapen love. I'm sorry to anyone who wanted this to end up happy.

#x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin alastor #x reader fics #fic writer #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #dark!fic #dark!Alastor #yandere alastor #alastor x reader #alastor fanfiction #fanfic #the radio demon #radio demon #radio demon x you #radio demon x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin #hazbin hotel fanfiction #radio demon hazbin hotel #yandere hazbin hotel #dark hazbin hotel #dark alastor #yandere x reader #yandere #x reader fanfiction #x reader fanfic

[charles-leclerizz]

🏎️ ๋࣭ ⭑ cat-quette

🏁 Pairings : Max vertsappen X fem! Reader

🏁 Warnings : fluffy as hell, suggestive language and one suggestive scene.

🏁 Word Count : 2.7k words (2742 words)

🏁 Summary : Sometimes, a family of 4 needs just one more addition, so you and your boyfriend venture out to find the perfect new daughter

🏁 translations via radio comm below

🏁 credits : word dividers by @gigittamic

🏁 Music player : Winter blossom by Dept, Ashley blossom, nobody like you pat

“Come on Maxie, please” You draw at the syllable at the end of your plea, dancing in your spot in your shared kitchen, “Imagine it, you, me, jimmy, sassy and a third cat, we could name it, kibble or something.”

Max looked at you with a worried expression, one brow arched in questioning, “Kibble?” He continued to knead the bread dough in front of him, slamming his hands into the mixture that sat fluffy and aerated on your marble counter, “You just demonstrated why we can’t get a third cat, you’re gonna make it depressed in the first 2 days.”

“Now that’s mean.” You cross your arms over and harrumph, going over to the stove to stir the searing vegetables in the pan.

Out of the corner of your eye you see him wash his hands free of the dough that remained on his fingers before going back to the olive oil doused ball and placing it into a wooden bowl, he then laid a fresh white cloth over the dough and transferred it into the fridge for it to rise for about 40 minutes.

You then felt his presence behind you, then you felt his hands snake around your waist and then his head followed suit, nuzzling into your neck before placing a soft kiss on your skin, “I’m sorry schat.” He mumbled, tickling your ear with his soft tufts of blonde hair.

“Y’know,” You paused briefly in between your enraged sauteing, stainless steel spatula in the air, “I don’t think you are.”

“But I reeeaaallly am.” He copied your elongated whine, shifting the two of you by guiding you side to side, oscillating gently as though you were the dough and he was trying to knead the forgiveness out of you, “How about this..” he started, laughing inwardly when your ears perked up and you attempted to discreetly turn off the gas so you could spin in his hold. Looping your arms around his neck you prompted him to continue, “We could go to the pet shop tomorrow.” He murmured, looking up into the air, despite your vice like grip on his head as though the particles would answer him and not your already giddy form in front of him.

“Yeah?” You danced slightly in his hold, wiggling your hips like a hyper child, “You promise?”

“You can drive pista if I forget.” He nodded solemnly.

“Oh shit-“ You lean back, impressed with his dedication, “You really are sorry”

“dat is alles wat nodig is?” He blubbers, eyes wide for dramatic effect, as you would like to call it, “Your standards are low, real low my love.”

You furrow your brows, playfully hitting the underside of his head before leaning up to kiss his grimaced lips, "What else is new? How else do you think this happened?” You gestured between the two of you.

Max hummed, leaning down to kiss your cheek before trailing down to your jaw, he grinned against you when your breath hitched and you pulled him closer, if that was possible, “I wooed you?” He tried; you snorted in response.

“Yeah, you wooed the heck out of me, yee old Maximillian Verstappen, one foul scowl at me and bam four years later here we are.”

You yelped when he bit your neck.

“Hmm, I’m just so so handsome?” He couldn’t hold his laugh back at this claim.

“I first met you when you were a scrawny 18-year-old, but yes, you are very handsome.” you coo at him whilst caressing his face.

Max hummed in agreement, “I know.”

“You’re not going to compliment me?” You asked.

“Hmm…nope.” He shrugged.

You gaped at him for a beat before lunging at his face and taking the soft skin of his cheek between your teeth, holding it there and growling playfully. Max yelped and laughed at your pseudo-attack before pushing you away and taking your lips captive with his as revenge, “You’re much prettier than me geliefde.” He added before his tongue slipped between your lips.

“Max... the food” You helplessly remind him when he finally detaches from you, only to lift you into his arms and move to the left to sit you down onto the counter, slotting himself in between your pliantly open thighs you draw him closer despite your objections.

“Fuck the food...” He murmurs against your ear, kissing behind it and trailing his mouth lower and lower until he reached your baby blue, silk camisole. Max looks up at you briefly, his bottom lip just barely breaching the collar of your flowy top, you stare down at him eyes heavy and threatening to flutter closed with every hot breath of his that fanned over your chest.

You bring one hand away from his neck to drag down his face, your middle finger just barely anchored on his mouth, pulling down his lip until he stopped your journey south and took the soft digit into his mouth, “Yeah, that sounds fair.” You breathed out, already jumping back into his embrace, preparing yourself to slam the bedroom door closed with a breathless laugh.

“You forgot, didn’t you?” You ask him, plugging in your hairdryer and drawing out a large barrelled round brush from the containers that sat on your counter. The bathroom door was wide open as you waited expectantly for Max to emerge from the walk-in closet on the opposite side of the room, the only divider being your bed and a half-length wall.

“What? What did I forget?” Your boyfriend looked down at his phone, waiting for a calendar event to remind him, when that didn’t happen, he looked up at you.

You remained still, just flicking on the contraption in your hands and drowning out his obliviousness with the sound of luke-warm air drying your hair.

“Babe?” he tried once.

“Babe?” He tried again.

“Babe?”

You finally snapped, large brush still wrapped in your hair as your hand pressed your silky strands into the bristles and hair sprayed the volume into it, “Max, you’re shitting me, right? That’s it, keys to the pista.” You ordered, tapping your nail against the counter space next to you.

That’s when the realisation hit the driver in front of you, his face blanched and he rushed up to you, “See, I didn’t forget I conveniently played stupid?” He tried; eyes slightly lit up with hope.

“You’re right-“ You start, snorting at the badly veiled victorious expression on his face, “You are stupid.”

By this point, Max had reached the threshold of the bathroom and had slumped forward, the only thing stopping him from face-planting the expensive tiled floor were his hands braced on the doorframe, “Not the pista, baby, anything else.”

“What about one of your Aston Martins ?,” You faced him, tearing your eyes away from your reflection in the large mirror ahead.

Max’s face fell at the mention of his beloved collection of Aston’s, “Okay, so maybe we take the Pista…”

You pouted at him, swiping on a generous amount of pink lip-gloss, “I knew I should’ve been on top last night.”

The rollers in your hair fell one by one as you undid them, smiling cheekily to yourself when Max choked on his own spit, “What’s that meant to mean?”

“Don’t ask questions, that you don’t want to know the answers to.” You pass by him in the doorway, pinching his cheeks together and pecking him quickly on his duck-lips.

“So it’s the Pista?” He hollered from his place, craning his neck to where you had turned into the closet.

He heard you snort, and the rustling of fabric before you answered him, “It’s the most expensive Aston Martin you own!”

You ended up taking the pista.

But your resignation was soon vindicated when you broke the speed limits the whole drive from your apartment to the best pet store in the city.

“Heer, red mij” Max prayed, hand braced on the ceiling of the sports car as your heeled foot pressed even harder onto the accelerator, the car purred happily whilst you cruised along the mountain road, the view of the crashing waves almost therapeutic, until the serene scene was broken with a-

“BEN JE NET 150 KM/U BREKEN? HOE?” A shaky finger followed promptly afterwards, tapping the speedometer a few times.

You blow a nonchalant breath through your lips, “You’re a formula one driver Maxie, why are you so scared?”

“We don’t normally drive like hooligans, it’s precise and practise-“

You interrupted his rant by miraculously increasing your pace and speeding down the empty highway ahead, Max slammed one hand against the window as an ungodly screech erupted from the 3-time world champion.

Safe to say, you arrived at the pet store in a safe condition.

Never mind that Max had rushed out of the passenger’s seat to press a kiss to the hood of the car, before running to a few nearby bushes and attempting to uproot his breakfast.

Though, with no such luck of evacuating the contents of his stomach, he waddled over to where you stood unimpressed albeit also concerned to knit your hands together, pecking your forehead a few times he allowed you to guide him into the shop.

“Oh my god Maxie, look!” You squealed, rushing up to the large glass display of a dozen or so hamsters, the various coloured furballs rolled around the spacious enclosure as you cooed down at them.

Max bent down as well, but soon caught eye of the “HALF OFF” sign and stood straight, “’M not sure geliefde, maybe not hamsters, jimmy, and sassy like the taste of em.”

You nodded once, wrenching your gaze away from one of the hamsters that you had already grown fond off to hold your boyfriend’s hand once more, “You could be less crude about it.” You mumble inwardly.

“You’re telling me, about being crude.” He scoffed down at you before looping his arms around your neck and tucking you into his side.

The pair of you continued to walk around the retail, swerving into and out of isles whilst browsing each selection of pet that could potentially enter your home.

Max had to continuously drag you away from the more exotic selection that there was on display, that was after you had convinced the store clerk to wrap a domestic snake around his neck.

“You look like you’re about to throw up” You giggle, pointing your phone at Max, who’s face had turned an alarming red as the docile snake snuggled up to his thick neck.

“I’m about to faint, no shit right now, this is not babygirl schat, this is abuse.” He hissed, quoting what you had said to convince him in the first place, he brought one shaky hand up to pet the reptile, a laboured “shhh” noise escaping the dutchman as though he were coercing the docile animal to not strangle the life out of him.

Luckily, the over-amused store clerk unwrapped the snake from his shoulders before Max simultaneously shit himself and cried.

“Maxie, look” You rushed over to another enclosure, this time, it was a large area on the floor walled off with pet gates, plush pillows were propped up against the black grate along with tumultuous cat toys spread across the floor. Luckily, to match the mess, there were at least 15 kittens, all different breeds, some were sleeping on their tummies, fluffy eyes closed as their four limbs spread out oddly whilst others were being entertained by other enraptured patrons.

“Hi guys,” You whispered, tucking your skirt beneath your thighs as your crouched down again, coming eye to eye with the adorable animals, “You’re so cute,” Max had joined you promptly, hitching up his jeans as he lowered himself next to you, large blue eyes following the cats.

A worker noticed the two of you and left their previous customers, a couple, much like yourselves, the two people cuddled a soft brown kitten who nuzzled into their shared embrace.

“Hi! Can I help you?”

You looked up at her, smiling, “My boyfriend and I were looking for a new addition to our family, I would love to bring home one of these guys.” You gestured to the large play pen.

“Well, that’s just lovely! But the cat’s choose you guys, not the other way around.” The middle-aged woman laughed, her olive skin stretching as she unlocked the gate and ushered the two of you in, “That’s how me and my husband got our cat.”

“Oh...” You stood eerily still as multiple odd fluff-balls came and sniffed your heels before trotting away, “What if none of them like me?” You whisper to Max, who already housed at least 3 kittens by his feet, “Nonsense, you just have to be patient darling.” He kissed your cheek and rubbed your arm comfortingly.

After about 10 minutes of you gingerly attempting to welcome a companion into your embrace, a smaller, more fur decadent kitten walked out from behind the small playhouse that sat in the far corner of the enclosure. It cocked its head curiously at you before yawning and shaking its back, and rump, its snow-white fur oscillating with its movements.

“Hi honey,” You whispered, bending down to allow it to clamber sleepily into your lap, you squealed internally, standing up once again with the kitten safely embraced into your arms, its back angled comfortably on your forearms and head rested on your chest whilst it blinked slowly at you, pale green eyes shining happily.

Max grinned serenely at the pair of you, watching as you brought a hand up to rub gently on the pink nose of the animal in your care, “I think you just got chosen.” He laughed quietly, his chin resting on your shoulder as he gazed down at the sleepy cat.

“Her name’s pookie.” You declared giddily as you approached the car, holding out your hand for the keys to the expensive car. Max stared at you, fear evident in his eyes.

“You can name her whatever you want, but you are not driving the car, we have precious cargo now,” He petted pookie behind her ear.

“Fine, come here baby.” You barely pouted, already taking pookie and her small, shell shaped bed into your arms. She rested peacefully in your lap, purring contently as Max hauled the other pink cat care items you had bought, into the back seat.

“So, I just had to buy you a cat?” Max inquired; hand braced on the back of your headrest as he backed out of the parking spot.

You lean over the dash to kiss Max’s stubble covered cheek, “It’s so easy to please me, my love.”

“Well….” He squeaked, looking over at you suggestively.

“You perv,” You smacked his forehead but laughed nonetheless, “There’s children present.”

“So, Max?”

The driver perked up at his name, flipping the microphone in his hand to answer the question, he leaned back against the white sofa where he was joined by a few other of his fellow colleagues all of whom turned to the questioner in the sea of reporters.

“We’ve heard you have a new addition to the family?”

Max laughed into the mic, before adjusting the cap on his head and nodding, “Very true yes, the missus and I just got a new kitten into the house.” He plucked out his phone and held up a photo of you and Pookie, both of whom were turned away from the lens to face the large window showing of the Monaco coastline.

A flurry of ‘awws’ escaped the people present, and Charles who also swooned at the photo spoke into the mic, “Do you guys have a name yet?”

“Kind of, she wanted to name it ‘pookie’ and I just think that when I talk about the kitten, I’ll sound like an idiot, it doesn’t feel right with my accent.”

Charles popped his mouth open, “Wait- you call me pookie?”

Back at home, you had snuggled up to Jimmy and Sassy, both of whom had settled with laying their heads onto each of your legs whilst you held Pookie close to your chest, caressing her cheek, “That’s what you get leclerc.” You snarl at the screen, “Stealing my boyfriend, leaving our children fatherless, you whore.” You joked, filming your commentary to send to Max, who on the television screen was already justifying the similar names between his new daughter, and his work wife.

Pookie blinked up at you, and you swore, that she smiled at your determined face.

📻 Kcccchh.... come in.... come in...translatiion available...over

📻 Kchh...Dutch....to english....over

dat is alles wat nodig is ? - that's all it takes ?

Geliefde - Love [r]

Heer, red mij - Lord, save me

BEN JE NET 150 KM/U BREKEN? HOE? - DID YOU JUST BREAK 150 KPH? HOW?

schat - Darling/Love/Babe [term of endearment]

#f1 imagine #f1 #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 x reader #f1 x you #Max Verstappen #Max Verstappen imagine #Max Verstappen x reader #f1 fluff #f1 blurb #f1 one shot #f1 x y/n #f1 smut #f1 drabble #f1 fandom #f1 x female reader #Max Verstappen fanfic #Max Verstappen fluff #Max Verstappen blurb #Max Verstappen smut #Max Verstappen x you #f1blr #[darlingwrites] #Spotify

[awfcspencer]

Nine Months || leah williamson x reader

leah williamson x pregnant!reader

Part 1

prompt: The 9 months leading up to the arrival of your baby.

warnings: pregnancy, throwing up, self-doubt/anxiety, mentions of miscarriage, mostly fluff but a few instances of angst.

a/n: almost 7 thousand words of fluff

Month 1: Poppy Seed

Upon flipping the positive pregnancy test, your whole life suddenly felt fast, there felt like a million things you need to accomplish. You have having a baby. You quickly scheduled a prenatal appointment and the doctor told you that you were about 5 weeks pregnant. She prescribed you some vitamins and medications to help the baby grow properly and scheduled a few more future visits.

Leah had gone out and bought several pregnancy books. You joked with her that she had purchased out a whole bookstore when she brought home roughly about 13 books and there was no way she would actually read them. But she did read each one, thoroughly, even taking little notes on post-its and showing you passages she found interesting. One of the books she had bought had a little pregnancy growth chart, indicating your baby was about the size of a poppy seed, it was hard to imagine something so small. Every month she would tell you how big your baby was getting through the sizes of fruits, it always made you laugh. Almost every day you had to convince Leah not to buy something baby-related. You would be at the shops and she would see an outfit or a toy and plead with you that you had to buy it. When you weren’t looking she would place whatever it was in the cart and you wouldn’t notice until you got home.

You had experienced pretty typical symptoms, swollen breasts, mood swings, and nausea, but nothing too extreme. To be fair, it mostly just felt like you were on a month long period. But you now found yourself rubbing small circles on your stomach more often. Right before you and Leah would go to bed, she would always politely ask to put her hands on your belly. She wanted to make sure you were completely comfortable and you would always tell her that she really didn’t need to ask, she was also the baby’s mother, but every time without fail she would ask for permission. Leah would whisper small affirmations to your belly and sealed it with a kiss.

“Do you think the baby can hear you yet?” you ask her.

“One of the books I read says the baby can begin to hear sounds at around 18 weeks.” she quickly tells you, feeling satisfied in her knowledge that she got from all the reading she did.

“Oh, what a nerd” you jokingly say to her, hitting her with a plush pillow.

“Your nerd” she replies as she sends you a cheeky smile and a kiss.

“So corny,” you tell her, shaking your head slightly before dozing off to bed in her arms.

Month 2: Raspberry

Today’s appointment was one you and Leah had been crucially waiting for, circled on the calendar for weeks, today you would hear the baby’s heartbeat for the very first time. You had previously looked up pregnancy journeys to get an idea of what to expect and you knew that for some people, this is where some parents had found out that their sweet angel baby had passed. The thought was absolutely crushing and waved over your head as Leah drove you to the clinic, it was utterly terrifying. Since you had taken the IVF route, there was a higher possibility of having a miscarriage up until the second trimester. You tried to keep your cool and not tell Leah in fear that if you got the horrible news, would she blame you, would she hate you? Your hormones were all over the place and did not help you whatsoever so when it all bubbled over and you broke out in instant tears when you pulled into the parking lot, Leah knew something was wrong.

“Baby what’s wrong? Are you okay? Are you in any pain?” she quickly asks as she turns to face you in the car, reaching out to hold you hand.

You try to answer her through your sobs, only being able to get out, “...You will hate me”

“Hey hey hey, I need you to calm down love. Breathe in and out okay?” she tells you as she over exaggerates her breathing to have you follow along. Her comforting soft voice and the physical contact of your hands, you manage to relax.

“I was online and loads of people say that this appointment can shows sign of birth defects or even if…” You can’t get yourself to finish the sentence, not even wanting to possibly speak it into existence. But Leah knows what you are talking about, she’s done her research too, she’s read about this appointment, she knows the news you could hear.

“Look at me”, she pulls your lowered head up by your chin, “Whatever happens in there, we will weather it together okay? I could never, ever, hate you. You are the bravest and strongest person I know and the courage it has taken for you to go through this process is already enough for me. I’m sure baby is perfect, just like her mother.” Her words put you a little at ease, this was something neither one of you had ever done, it was scary but also you knew it would eventually be the best thing to ever happen to the both of you.

Once you had managed to calm down a bit more, thanks to Leah’s perfect ability to know exactly what to say, you walked into the appointment with high hopes.

The female doctor was kind, asking you questions on how everything was and if there were any problems. On the table, you and Leah held hands, needing to be as close to her as you could. The time had come and the doctor warned you that the gel would be cold. You squeezed Leah’s hand tighter.

The next few seconds felt like forever, a lifetime, desperately waiting to hear the pitter-patter of a heartbeat. And then it came. A strong heartbeat was music to your ears. Your baby’s heartbeat. Tears brimmed in your eyes as did Leah’s, it was the most perfect and beautiful sound. You wish you could burn it on a CD and listen to it forever, luckily, Leah had recorded it on her phone so you could replay it any time you wanted.

“See baby, it’s perfect” she beamed. For Leah, this was incredibly special. She was sat with the love of her life listening to their baby’s heartbeat. The moment was perfect, just the three of you. A healthy baby was all she could ask for.

Month 3: Lime

For the third straight morning in a row, you had woken up to overwhelming nausea and was sat hunched over the toilet throwing up. If anything, it was mostly just annoying, but every time you though about how much you hated having morning sickness, you quickly reminded yourself that you were growing a full baby, your baby. Leah had started to become a light sleeper when you initially realized you were expecting, wanting to be ready for anything at all times. So when you felt a body come behind you to rub your back and hold your hair, you knew it was Leah.

“Baby you are doing so well” she coos as you once again throw up, her long fingernails run up and down your back, trying her best to soothe you. Your sore everywhere, your breasts continue to get bigger and more tender, your lower back now aches constantly, and you have to pee more often than you ever have. But you knew it was worth it, willing to do it a hundred times over.

Each morning you woke up sick, Leah would try to stay home from training, but each time you would convince her to go, explaining you and baby were fine and you promised you would call if you needed anything. At this point, you and Leah were the only two to know, keeping it just the two of you for a little bit, enjoying the journey together. Leah had secretly told an Arsenal staff member that exchanged numbers with you to text or call in case anything happened.

At one of your appointments, Leah had asked for an extra ultrasound of your baby so she could put in her locker in the changing room. Her teammates had asked about it, telling them it was a future cousin. If they had taken a second to look closer, they would have seen your name at the top. She liked having a piece of her future baby near her, spurring her on to play better, practice harder.

This was also the month when you finally let Leah go crazy and buy more things for the baby. You just didn’t expect Leah to buy so much, receiving a package almost every day. You were sure the postman had your address memorized with how often he was there. But you can’t deny that the tiny outfits or booties weren’t absolutely adorable and increased your already high need for the baby to arrive. Since you and Leah had not found out the gender yet, most of the stuff was necessities or gender-neutral things.

One day after training, Leah ran into the house screaming for you to close your eyes. Doing so, she places something in your hands.

“Open”

A small Arsenal baby kit with the last name Williamson across the back along with a small number 6.

“Awe baby! When did you get this?” you asked holding up the small jersey. It was so tiny but one day your baby would be wearing it, and your heart swelled.

“I told the man working it was for a family member, fresh off the press today.” she smiled.

“It’s perfect” giving her a kiss and pulling her down so she could massage your achy shoulders, “Love you baby,” you told her as her strong hands helped relieve some of the tension.

Month 4: Sweet Potato

The beginning of your second trimester was relieving as most miscarriages occur in the first trimester, so you were passed one of the scary humps. Your morning sickness had thankfully passed, a godsend really. One thing that had dramatically increased was your very quick mood changes and your emotions. You found yourself snapping at Leah when you really didn’t mean to, but she was always slow with you, understanding it was just a matter of hormones and you didn't mean to get angry. You also had a bad case of pregnancy forgetfulness, you would say something one second and completely forget it the next.

“Leah I do not want pizza for dinner, I said I wanted Nando’s” you angrily say to her, thinking she never listens to you, quickly becoming agitated.

“Babe you told me like maybe 10 minutes ago that you wanted to order pizza in. Do you want me to cancel it and order something different?” Leah pinches the bridge of her nose, clearly stressed out trying to figure out what to get for dinner since you had suddenly changed your mind.

“I never said that! Great now you are mad at me” Tears begin to brim, begging to fall from your eyes. You really thought you had said you wanted Nando’s but now you can’t remember, did you say you wanted pizza?

“I am not mad love, I just want to make sure you and baby eat.” Reaching for her phone as she orders online from Nando’s getting your favorite without even having to ask, knowing you like the back of her hand.

“God why are you always so sweet. I’m trying to be mad at you” you tell her. She doesn’t have to respond, rather pulling you in for a hug as she wipes your tears. She carries you over to the couch to relax before the food gets here, putting on a show that the both of you have been binge watching.

Baby was growing each day and you were starting to show slightly. It was honestly crazy, it was one of the surreal moments where you really thought about how you were carrying a human inside you, it was beautiful. Both you and Leah figured that now was a good time to start telling family and close friends.

You started with Leah’s parents and her brother first, gathering them around your house for a family dinner. Dressed in an oversized jumper and sweats, nobody could really tell you were pregnant unless they knew you were. After everyone had finished eating, you and Leah announced you had a gift for them. She placed the perfectly wrapped package on the table and Leah stood behind you and placed her head on your shoulder as you watched them open it.

Inside was the same small Arsenal kit that Leah had bought. You could tell Amanda knew immediately but wanted to give the boys a chance to figure it out.

“Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I think this might be a couple sizes to small” Jacob bluntly states, laughter filling the room as Amanda hit him in the back of the head.

David had put the pieces together a few seconds later and had gotten up to congratulate the both of you as Amanda did the same, both had gotten emotional which made you get emotional and then Leah emotional, a happy emotional though.

“Oh I’m so excited” Amanda beams smiling with tears in her eyes. By now Jacob had finally realized and said his round of congratulations, telling the both of you that he calls ‘the fun uncle’, causing both of you to chuckle.

Telling your family went roughly the same, your parents sending congratulations and wishings, discussing each way they were going to spoil the baby when they arrive.

Next up was the Arsenal girls. You and Leah thought back and forth on how you wanted to tell them, trying to figure out the best way. You both had settled on getting each of the girls little plaques that had their names with the word ‘aunt’ written in front of it. Leah had gotten all the girls together at lunch and announced that you would be joining them, which was not untypical for you. The girls all loved you and enjoyed when you were around. Walking in with the bags of gifts, the girls immediately greet you.

“Leah your missus is glowing, way out of your league” the irish woman yells at Leah when you make your appearance. Leah quickly slaps her upside the head and pulls you in for a quick hug and kiss.

“Always lovely to see you McCabe” you send her a smile as she returns the smile.

Leah explains that you had brought them all something and they light up like a kid on Christmas. With Leah’s help, you pass them all out and tell them to open them when everyone had one.

There was a moment of silence as they opened the gifts and then chaos ensued, questions thrown at you and Leah, everyone talking over themselves.

“Does this mean what I think it means?” Beth asks. You simply smile back and nod your head.

"Wait! Is the ultrasound on your locker your baby?" Steph asks as you both nod your head, Leah grinning from ear to ear.

All the girls suddenly rush to you, pulling you in a few directions trying to give you hugs or feel your belly. You really didn’t mind, you knew they were all just excited.

Leah’s yells of telling everyone to be careful or backup went unanswered.

“EVERYONE BACK UP” She yells as she now has the attention of the girls as they do as she says.

“Are you okay baby?” she quickly asks to make sure and you reassure her that you are perfect.

Her protectiveness has increased dramatically since you started to tell people. She would never let you lift anything too heavy and would much rather her do everything. She set clear boundaries when people asked to touch your belly, always assuring people that they needed to ask you, and if you ever wanted to say no or felt uncomfortable you would tell her and she would fix it. You find her protectiveness cute, and annoying at times, but mostly cute.

The girls come in small clusters up to you and you chat with every single one of them, all of them talking about babysitting, play dates, asking you questions about pregnancy and such. They were all so lovely and you were blessed that you would be raising a baby with the Arsenal girls as their role models.

Arriving home, you were dead tired, a long day on your feet and socializing. Leah helped you do your skincare as you were basically falling asleep at the sink, but not long after you were in bed. Leah was in the middle of talking to your stomach when you felt the baby kick you. At first, it didn’t register to you, but now you were suddenly awake.

“Lee the baby just kicked” you tell her, grabbing her hand to show her where you felt the kick. It took a few seconds before the baby inside your belly kicked again, but now Leah felt the kick.

“They just kicked my hand” she yells, obviously excited. For a few minutes, the baby would kick every so often before stopping for the rest of the night.

“Looks like we got a future striker in here” you jokingly tell her, knowing it will rile her up.

“No way, they will be playing defense, that’s where it is at.” She says so asserting that you can only tilt your head back and laugh. Your back is parallel with her chest, as she places a kiss on your head and whispers ‘Good night love’ in your ear. You were now about halfway through your pregnancy.

Month 5: Ear of Corn

Throughout your whole pregnancy, you and Leah both had talked about whether you guys wanted a boy or a girl. Thankfully, you were both in agreeance that all you wanted was a healthy baby, the gender did not matter, and you both would be happy either way.

For the next appointment, you had invited Amanda so the doctor could tell her the gender and she could begin to plan the gender reveal party. At every appointment, whenever you got the chance to hear the baby's heartbeat, you would soak in each second of the beautiful sound. The doctor told you that the baby was developing well and that the baby had begun to grow hair. Baby was very active now, kicking more often and it felt like they were doing backflips on your blatter every few hours.

"Do you want to know the gender?" the doctor asked.

Both of you screamed "No" very quickly, shocking the doctor a bit.

"Sorry, no, we want to do a gender reveal later. You can tell my mom though, she will be planning the whole thing." The doctor told Amanda privately and then you all left the clinic to get food. Your cravings now ran rampant and you were always hungry, obviously now eating for two.

You began to get impatient waiting for the day of the party to arrive, often times you thought about simply calling Amanda and demanding she tell you, but each time you talked yourself out of it.

The day had finally arrived, surrounded by your family, Leah's family, her Arsenal and England teammates, and other close friends piled into your backyard. The sun was shining and everyone talked among themselves. You were mostly the star of the party, everyone vying to speak with you or feel your belly, but you wanted Leah to feel important too, this was her baby shower as well. You wanted her right next to you at all times, having her answer some of the questions shot at you.

About an hour into the party, you started to get a bit overwhelmed, lots of curious hands on you, and your social battery was dying by the minute and Leah was off with a few of her teammates. You just needed a few seconds to collect yourself so you escaped off to the baby's room. You and Leah had been working piece by piece setting up the room, late nights spent building furniture and then rebuilding it when Leah wouldn't listen to you when you tried to tell her instructions. A small lion stuffed animal that Amanda had bought out at the shops one day sat in the middle of the bassinet. She had said that Leah had an identical one when she was a baby and the thought made your eyes swell with tears whenever you thought about it.

"You all good? I saw you sneak out and head up here." a voice you recognized as Alessia asked. You and Alessia had gotten quite close when she moved into your home for a few months when she first transferred to Arsenal. She was absolutely lovely to be around and she was like a sister to you.

You turn towards her with red-rimmed eyes and you can tell the poor girl is immediately stressed, quickly saying, "Do you want me to grab Leah?"

"No I'm okay Less, I just needed a few minutes from the craziness outside," you tell her as she pulls you in for a hug. You trust Alessia so you relax into her arms. The baby kicks inside your belly, almost as if they knew Aunt Less was near.

"The baby just kicked, here give me your hand." Reaching out to grab her hand and place it on your stomach, the baby kicked her hand.

"No way!" she exclaimed. "A future England number 9 in there."

"Oh please do not let Leah hear that, she has insisted the baby will play defense." you laughed out.

Walking back down with Alessia, you were told the reveal was soon. Amanda had a cake made the color blue or pink inside when you cut into it. Leah gathers everyone around as you take place behind the cake, Leah coming to your side after.

"1, 2, 3" Amanda yelled out as you cut into the cake together, each holding a piece of the knife. The cake was a light shade of pink inside.

"It's a girl!" Leah shouted out as she jumped up and down and pulled you in for a searing hug and kiss. A little baby girl. Once again, you were in tears, the pregnancy hormones never took a break.

"A baby girl!" you said.

The rest of the party had gone swimmingly, everyone raving about a little baby girl. Kyra spent a lot of time trying to convince you and Leah to name the little girl after her, claiming it was the best name possible and all you could do was laugh at her valiant effort. Alessia and Ella argued over who would be the best aunt and Viv and Beth were talking about how Myle would love the baby. Your little girl already had so many people who cared for her.

Month 6: Head of Lettuce

At this point in your pregnancy, everything had really gone according to plan. Your growing girl was hitting every milestone and the doctor assured you both that she was healthy and that at this point, her eyebrows and eyelashes had fully developed. The dreaded Braxton Hicks contractions began at the beginning of month 6. They were like painful squeezing of your uterus or abdomen but they never lasted too long and most of the time you had Leah right next to you to guide you through them. They were a bit similar to period cramps.

You weren't completely bedridden yet either, but your belly had grown significantly which made tasks such as seeing your feet or bending over particularly difficult. Your sleep had also been disrupted as you were still getting up in the middle of the night to pee. Cuddling also got a bit difficult but you and Leah managed to make it work. After long days, Leah would stand behind you and carefully lift your belly up to relieve some of the tension in your lower back.

"Baby, I am going to set her back down, is that okay?" she asks as you shake your head in agreement.

Each month, Leah would take a Polaroid of you and place it in a scrapbook she had been making to show your baby girl one day. The scrapbook was filled with ultrasound photos, and wristbands from the hospitals, and had room for when baby girl made her arrival.

Leah had taken the initiative and signed you both up for courses such as a Lamaze class. The class was to help you with breathing techniques and relaxation. In class, you were the only same-sex couple but everyone welcomed you and some even asked about the IVF process which you were happy to answer.

The teacher had you and Leah sit on a yoga mat with your back to her chest as you practiced different breathing processes. The class helped you and Leah learn a lot and prepared you for the scary nature of childbirth. Especially with Leah by your side, you knew you would be supported, and she took the classes very seriously, asking questions and taking notes to look back at when the time came.

When a particular Braxton Hick rattled through your body one night as you both lay on the couch, Leah held your hand and guided your breathing like she learned in class. When it eventually passed, you thanked her and she simply insisted there was no need.

The past months have gone rather quickly, time was flying by as you were now on the last turn before giving birth. The baby's room was now painted a light shade of grey and all of the furniture had been built. While you were excited for her to come, were you actually ready? ready to be a mother?

It all came to the forefront one night as Leah finished up talking to your bump.

"Lee? Have you ever thought maybe you won't be a good mom?" you asked in almost a whisper tone, hopefully, low enough maybe she wouldn't even hear you. But she definitely heard you.

"Love, you will be the best mother. I see how you interact with children in both of our families, they love you, and they cling to you. You have this careful nature about you and I wouldn't trust anyone else on earth with a baby than you." Leah pleads with you, wanting you to help those thoughts leave your brain.

"I needed that Lee, thank you"

"Whenever you feel that way, I want you to communicate with me, tell me how you are feeling okay? I will always be here to help." She sweetly says. You can tell she really means what she says. She understood your thoughts entirely, feeling the same way at times but she would take on her own advice and talk to you when she felt that way and you would help ease her nerves and reiterate how great of a mother she will be.

Each night she would rub your back until your breathing evens out and she knows you are asleep. Pulling your body as close to her as she could. Dreaming each night of different things she can't wait to experience as a mom, and you did the same.

Month 7: Papaya

While Leah had genuinely bought every baby product you could possibly think of, she insisted that she plan you a baby shower, wanting to hit all the major highlights of being pregnant. You secretly thanked her for it. Your home was decked out in pink decorations as family and close friends entered your home. A simple late lunch and keeping things very casual was how you wanted to spend the day. You and Leah had said on the invites that you didn't need much but that you wanted everyone to bring a book as a card and write a little note to your baby girl to eventually read one day.

The Arsenal girls piled in with several gift bags, obviously not listening. Almost every single player had purchased a small kit with their number on the back so she could wear them when she came to the games, arguing over whose jersey she would wear more.

Steph and Caitlin had purchased several small kangaroo plushies and claimed that one day you all had to visit Australia with the baby. Lotte had made the baby a little blanket herself with the Arsenal red and white colors, she was incredibly talented and you knew it would get good use. The girls had absolutely spoiled baby girl and your heart couldn't be more full. As usual, the conversation about what position in football the baby would be playing came up once again, with Katie and Beth claiming she would teach her how to score an absolute banger of goals.

The day was very relaxing and the baby was very active as most girls got to feel her kick. At the baby shower, you played a little game and found that most of the girls held a baby like a football so you had to properly teach them, you could tell Leah's eyes were threatening to beam out of her head thinking about some of them holding your precious baby.

Eventually, Leah kicked everyone out of your shared home as she could tell you were getting tired. The rest of the night was spent relaxing on the couch and picking at leftovers from the shower.

In the coming days, you and Leah spent time trying to figure out the perfect name. Naming a baby was hard, she would have this name for the rest of her life, and it was overwhelming. You bounced around ideas back and forth.

"Emily?" you ask.

"No"

"Hanna?"

"No"

"Okay Leah maybe you throw out some ideas since you say no to all of mine" you laugh out.

"What about Stella? Like the star, since she was like a wish upon a star."

"I love Stella, Stella Amanda Williamson" you stated, revealing your intention to name her after an amazing woman.

You have known for a long time how important Leah's mother was to her and you knew you wanted to incorporate it into your baby girl's name. Leah thought about it but only wanted to do it if you were comfortable with it but hadn't mentioned it yet. Amanda was an important figure in your life too and you loved her just as much as Leah.

"You want to use Amanda as her middle name?" she asked to clarify she heard you right and you nodded back to her. Leah's emotions take over her as she breaks out in tears.

"Oh baby, it's perfect," she says through cries. "I am just so happy, happy tears."

Leaning down to your belly she says, "Stella Amanda Williamson. Stella after the star that I wished on for you to come, and Amanda for your amazing grandmother who will love you endlessly." sealing it with a kiss. You and Leah would keep the secret of her name until she was born.

Month 8: Watermelon

Your body had changed drastically at this point. You felt massive in every sense of the word. Your belly had grown significantly and little stretch marks outlined the top of your stomach. Your feet were in a constant state of swelling and that is when you could even barely see them through a mirror. You were tired all the time, sleeping was even worse as you could never get comfortable, and you were in a constant state of soreness.

You were supposed to be getting ready to go out for a dinner date with Leah since you knew that when the baby girl arrived you would be very busy, wanting to relish in just you and Leah time. Most of your clothes no longer fit so you typically sported a comfy jumper and sweats, so you didn't know what to wear for tonight. All of your clothes felt too tight and you felt utterly ugly.

"Baby are you almost ready" Leah asked as she peered her head into the room to find you sobbing in front of the mirror with just your bra and underwear on.

"Hey hey hey, what's the matter?" immediately coming to your side.

"Nothing fits and I look ugly!" you scream out. Your body no longer felt like yours, all these changes happening, it was like an out-of-body experience. "I'm constantly swollen, my breasts are huge and they hurt, I look and feel massive."

Leah didn't feel the need to answer. She simply bent down and leveled her head with your stomach. She placed a soft kiss on every single one of the narrow, streak-like lines that had developed.

"You're growing a baby love. Your body is growing to change. You have never looked so beautiful to me, a goddess might I add." She kissed every inch of your body in a non-sexual way. She kissed your chest and stated, "These are growing because they will be feeding our baby love."

"Thank you baby," you told her.

"How about we order in and watch a movie? How does that sound?" she asked.

"Sounds perfect" as you threw on some comfy clothes.

Month 9: Pumpkin

The last month had finally come and Leah took her last Polaroid picture, 9 photos of your growing belly, you could barely remember being so small in your first few months. Most of your days were spent on the couch watching trashy reality TV because the doctor advised you to spend less time on your feet.

Each day you had to basically shove Leah out of your shared home to go to training, promising you would call if you needed absolutely anything. Since the Arsenal team was made aware, the girls would ask questions about you almost every day and Leah was always happy to answer, she loved talking about her little family.

The Braxton Hicks had increased dramatically, and they were now more painful and lasted longer. I mean your body was gearing up to deliver a baby.

You and Leah had mapped out a plan with every instance in the thought process, if you were to go into labor at home, at a game, or when you were out. You had Amanda and your mom on speed dial as the days got closer to your due date.

This morning you woke up to a lot of pain but you assumed it was normal and continued with your morning routine and said goodbye to Leah as she left.

Sat on the couch, you felt a sudden rush of wetness between your legs. You knew it was time. The pain in your lower abdomen increased as the contractions began. You quickly called Amanda and explained your situation as she got into her car and came to your home.

"Love where are you?" she asked as she walked in.

"In here," you say through another painful contraction. She is immediately at your side, holding your hand, and guiding you through it.

Through a breath of pain, you say, "Call Leah."

She helps you to the car and grabs your to-go bags as she gets in contact with Leah and tells her to meet you guys at the hospital. She also thankfully called your parents and informed them, telling her they were on their way.

The drive to the hospital felt forever, in and out of pain, but thankfully you had arrived and got set up in your room and connected to a few devices that measured your heart rate, blood pressure, and contractions.

Back at the Arsenal training grounds, Kelly had pulled Leah aside and told her the news. Leah ran around like a chicken with its head cut off, throwing things in her kit bag as she tried to leave quickly.

"We're having a baby!" she yelled around the changing room. Luckily Lia was levelheaded and threw Leah in her car and drove her to the hospital as all of the girls yelled out good wishes and to send photos when she arrived.

A prayer was answered as Leah walked into the room, another painful jab hitting. She is at your side, clutching your hand, and reciting the breathing techniques she has learned from the classes.

Unlike the movies depict, labor was not quick by any means. Rotating between carefully squatting on a yoga ball and taking laps up and down the hallway, all with Leah by your side, telling you how strong you were. It hurt her to see you in so much pain, so she tried to be as helpful as she could. At times you would snap at her but then the next second you would need her close by. She kneaded your sore skin, paying attention to your lower back as it was in the most pain.

The doctor had come in periodically to check how dilated you were and after about 6 hours in labor, she told you that you were now ready to push. Leah helped you get situated on the bed and helped peal your legs up to begin pushing. Amanda and your mom left the room, you and Leah both wanted to experience just the two of you. By this point, your body was incredibly tired, having no energy to even think.

"Baby are you ready?" she asked with her soft voice.

"I'm tired Lee. I can't do it." you sobbed out to her. Your eyes wanted to close, you wanted to sleep, worn out from pain.

"Baby I know, but you need to push. Baby girl wants to come out." she could tell you were tired, she felt for you, and her heart hurt.

You pushed, mentally and physically, through the pain with Leah by your side, wiping your face with a cold rag every so often and telling you how amazing you were. Each push made progress and baby girl was making her entrance into the world. After what felt like hours of pushing, which was only really roughly about 20 minutes in reality, a loud cry filled the room. Baby girl has arrived. You and Leah both cry out, you had done it. The doctor and nurse together clean her off and she continues to cry, she sure has some strong lungs. You and Leah had told the nurse you wanted skin-to-skin contact when she came so the nurse carefully placed her on your skin, immediately calming down as she heard your voice.

"Hi baby" you sob out. Looking down at the most perfect baby in the world, she had Leah's nose and your ears, she was perfect. Leah was now staring at the two most important people in life. You look up at her and pat down at the side of the bed, wanting her to lie down and you tell her to take off her top to do skin-to-skin contact.

Leah quickly removes her top and lies down as you place Stella on her chest. All Leah can do is silently sob as she stares at your daughter, she can recognize Leah's voice from all the times Leah talked to her before bed.

"Hello Stella"

The nurse had gone through diaper changing and walked you through breastfeeding as you fed Stella for the first time. Wrapped in a pink blanket with a little pink hat on, you had Leah grab both sets of parents. She was weary at first, not wanting to overwhelm you, I mean you quite literally just gave birth and she knew they would all want to hold her, maybe Leah also didn't want to share Stella just yet. But you convinced her you were both okay and welcomed them in.

"She's here" is all Leah says out to the hallway as they make their way in. Leah took her seat back on the bed as you held Stella.

"Oh, she's beautiful" Amanda coos. Your parents and hers check on both you and Leah before you hand your mother her.

"She's perfect you guys." Your mother says as she cries, you can also tell your dad has tears in his eyes but he is stationed at your side, checking you out with his eyes to make sure his baby girl is okay, David and your father each check on their children as Leah talks to her dad about how everything went. Amanda is now holding her as she asks her name.

"Stella Amanda Williamson" Leah says as Amanda cries more. The room was mostly focused on passing her around and taking pictures. Your heart felt full, a very emotional day, but every second was worth it. Stella had begun to cry after a few and when your mom placed her in your arms, she settled down. Most of the day was spent feeding her every few hours and changing her. You also had pumped milk into a bottle so that Leah could feed her too. Stella was absolutely perfect, everything you could imagine and more. You and Leah were parents. A wish come upon a star, a wish come true.

#woso x reader #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso #woso one shot #woso soccer #woso blurbs #womens soccer #woso couples #arsenal women #leah williamson x you #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson #awfc #arsenal wfc

[lovebugism]

congrats on one year of your blog!!

for your one year celebration, could you write something with the prompt

“you showed up at my door of all place?”

“trust me it wasn’t my first choice either.”

with steve perhaps? maybe he’s injured (because when isn’t he) and has no one else to turn to but the reader??

tysm lovie! hope you like it :D — steve seeks comfort in you, his rival since high school, a week after fighting vecna (enemies in love, hurt/comfort, post st4, 1.7k)

bug's one year celebration ♡

Steve’s stitches start weeping a week after the brawl with Vecna — the ones you’d sewn along his ribcage when a gang of demobats made a feast of him. 

He’s gotten so numb to the pain (the constant, never-ending, three years of nonstop pain) that he doesn’t realize his wound has torn open again. Not until his shirt starts sticking abnormally wet to his skin. He looks down, notices the dark red patch blooming on the gray fabric, and then feels the distant stinging of the week-old bite.

Most of them have healed or are starting to. They’ve turned pink and marred over, unlikely to fade. But there’s one gash that refuses to mend, and he’s starting to think it might be some kind of bad omen. Like the constantly knicked sutures are some kind of prophetic telling of an undone fight and not just a consequence of his restlessness.

He thinks of you first, anyhow. Before a solution or a way to dull the pain. He thinks of you and your gentle hands and how you were the only person he’d let touch him after coming back from the Upside Down. 

Steve drives to Forest Hills and ascends the rickety porch of your trailer even though he knows it’s 2 a.m. He knocks at the paint-chipped entrance even though he knows Eddie only lives four doors down. Max lives across the way from Eddie, and he knows that, too. He could go just about anywhere, he figures, but he’s here — on the steps of the girl who couldn’t stand him in high school.

You answer the door much quicker than he anticipated. Ten seconds after he knocks, you stand before him with wet hair and no pants. The damp strands drip onto the oversized shirt you wear. The sleeves of the old thing hang low off your arms, the hem of it falling just above your knees.

You don’t look sleepy despite the early hours of the morning. Tired, maybe, but not sleepy. “Steve?” you say, so suddenly alert at the sight of him. Your eyes, lined with a sleep you haven’t gotten in days, go wide with distant horror. “What happened? Are you okay? Did someone die?”

You ask him all this before he’s said a single word. Good questions when you live in a town like this one, when you’ve seen the things you’ve seen.

“Nothing. Everyone’s fine,” Steve answers in a monotone, still gripping his side with his opposite hand. “My stitches just ripped.”

You blink rapidly at him, trying to clear the daze of exhaustion and the subtle shock of seeing him. “Stitches— What?”

He pulls back his hand, the palm of it now blotched pink. There’s one large circle of deep brown blood staining his shirt and two more tiny patches just below it. “I’m bleeding,” he tells you, as if it isn’t obvious now. “My stitches pulled.”

Your gaping gaze flits from his freshly opened wound to the annoyed look on his chiseled face. His pale features glow amber beneath the buzzing porch light. “And you showed up to my door, of all places?”

“Trust me. It wasn’t my first choice either.” He clutches his side again and slides past you in the doorway, walking into your trailer, mostly uninvited. 

He knows your parents aren’t around. It’s the only thing you’ve ever been able to bond over. You grew up mostly alone and learned to raise yourselves accordingly. So it’s not totally surprising to find your trailer dripping with girlhood — tiny trinkets, movie posters, half-alive plants, and vibrant colors. More of a home than his empty mansion ever was.

“Why don’t you just go to the E.R.?” you ask and shut the door behind you. You have to lean your body weight against it and press really hard — or else it won’t close fully, and the wind kicks it open while you’re sleeping, and you wake up to a family of raccoons ravaging the candy bowl on your coffee table.

Steve huffs and sits on your grass-green couch, face scrunching at the distant stinging along his ribcage. “Because I don’t know how to tell people that potentially rabid demobats took a pound of flesh outta me,” he sasses.

You shake your head. “If you get blood on my sofa, Harrington, I swear to god…” you mumble and sit down beside him. 

You lift the hem of his shirt to assess the damage, knuckles skimming warm along his golden side.

Most of the bites scattered along his ribs are healing now. They’re small and shallow and turning slowly pink instead of scarlet red. But there’s one still pulsing crimson, the only one deep enough to need stitches. The only one refusing to heal. 

The sight of the raw, throbbing wound makes your stomach writhe. You remember pulling the stubborn demobat off of him by its tail. You feel the sting of his pain even now, like it’s your own.

Steve watches your face the whole time. He decides to base his pain on how you look at him, whether you shrug it off or grimace in disgust. You do neither. Your eyes dart over his skin, glimmering with concentration, as your fingers brush his aching side with a gentleness he didn’t think was possible.

His brows pinch at your lack of response. He tilts his chin to his chest and ducks his gaze to look at you, honey eyes eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Is it bad?”

“Well… It’s not good,” you conclude after a few moments.

“That’s such a non-answer,” he scoffs, dropping his head to the back of the couch to watch you walk into the kitchen. 

You disappear behind a wall for a few moments. The distant clattering of something, muffled as you dig inside cabinets, fills the empty trailer. 

You’re back in thirty seconds, tops, with the first aid kit you’ve been a stickler about keeping restocked. ‘Cause Steve isn’t your first patient since coming back home. He’s not your second, either. 

It was Eddie first, for his own demobat bites, and then Lucas when the cut along his swollen cheek split open again.

You’re not cut out for any of it. Not professionally, anyway. You only know how to do sutures because of Mr. Mundy’s ninth-grade health class.

You return to Steve’s side and begin to clean up the bite, lest an infection spread and Vecna take him out from beyond the grave. 

The burn of the alcohol makes him wince. “Ow,” Steve whispers under his breath, a subtle pout scrunching his features.

“Don’t be such a baby,” you laugh.

“I’m injured— You’re supposed to be nice to me.”

“You’ve been through three separate concussions and a thousand demobat bites. I think you can handle a little sting, Harrington.”

Steve tilts his cheek to his shoulder, squinting his twinkling eyes and flashing you a lopsided smile. “Has anyone ever told you how amazing your bedside manner is— ow!”

You start stitching him up without warning. You make it look easy despite having no real idea what you’re doing. Steve figures it’s because you’re a natural at taking care of people. Sometimes he thinks that’s the only reason all of you managed to make it out of the Upside Down in the first place.

“All done,” you murmur after you’ve knotted the last stitch.

“Thanks…” He tries to sit up again. The sting hasn’t yet left him. It’s less of a pain now, and more of a  warning — the thin sutures screaming as they threaten to snap.

“If you don’t move around so much, they won’t pull. Again.”

“Is that the rule?” he teases.

“Yeah. That’s the rule— the don’t be stupid rule.”

Steve takes a sharp breath in and rises. He’s prepared for the ache, so it burns less this time. He sees you reach for him in the corner of his eye, hands darting out to help him and then shooting down again when you decide against it. 

He wouldn’t have minded if you had. He would’ve made fun of you for it, obviously, but he wouldn’t have minded.

He’s been missing the warmth of your touch more and more since the Upside Down — back when he laid mostly limp on the arid ground of a desolate land, when you cradled his body to shield him from the bats flying overhead. 

He stopped feeling scared when you held him. He thought it was because he was dying, but now he knows it was because of you. The healing in your touch. It’s like the amber glow of streetlamps in the dead of night, or sunsets that paint the whole world pink. Being touched by you is like dancing in summer rain and running through a field of wildflowers.

“Sorry, for uh— for keeping you up,” Steve apologizes and inches towards the door.

You follow close behind him, with an urgency that borders between letting him out and keeping him in. “It’s— It’s fine,” you stammer, then laugh at yourself. “It’s not like I was sleeping anyway.”

“Really?” Steve asks, an inquisitive swirl to his scruffy features.

He turns around to face you more, his sneakers melting into the plush of your rug. Your hand gets clammy and tightens around the rusted doorknob when he looks down at you — with his eyes made of velvet and his mouth made of flower petals. His face is so hardened, but he looks at you so softly anyway.

“No,” you confess with a soft shrug. “I mean— after everything, I don’t know how anyone is. I was with Eddie earlier, and the fucker was passed out before ten.”

Steve breathes a sharp laugh through his nose. His plush lips curl into a crooked smile. “He deserves the sleep, though.”

“Yeah,” you sigh.

“And so do you.”

“I know,” you grin, equal parts bitter and genuine. “But I’m not getting any.”

“Me neither,” Steve confesses, exhaling so deep it makes his chest deflate.

The two of you linger in place for a long, long time. Both of your mouths curl to say the same things — let’s grieve together, let’s wait for the sun to rise so the nightmares will pass — but neither of you is brave enough to say them out loud.

“I’ll see you around,” Steve nods, finally.

You wrench open the door for him, pulling extra hard when it jams. “The next time you pull your stitches?” you joke, smiling like you’re not grieved to watch him walk into the empty night alone.

Steve grins like he’s not mourning, too. “Probably,” he scoffs.

Maybe before that, he hopes, healed again as he walks to his car. Maybe I’ll be brave enough soon.

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