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lynk-zee · 1 month

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Evol is Love Spelled Backwards

Synopsis: In which whilst fighting Heartbreaker, they get smacked in the face by their newest love spell which makes them impossibly gobsmacked over the person they love. PRE-RELATIONSHIP

Seeing Zayne on a hospital bed instead of a patient was a sight no one expected to see. But he was acting weird. Way weird. After getting smacked in the face by Heartbreaker, his temperature spiked, his face flushed, and his heart rate seemed to rocket whenever he’s not near you. So, as the doctor checks him out, Zayne’s glassy eyes are glued to you, as if the moment he looked away you’d disappear forever. He holds your hands tightly, never wanting to let go. After the checkup, the doctor said the side affects would disappear within a few hours. When he left, Zayne yanked you onto the bed, onto his lap, pinning you to his chest. He looked up at you with a lovesick expression.

Zayne: Are you hurt…

MC: Me? You’re the one who blocked the attack…

Zayne: Of course… I love you… And I don’t want anything bad to happen to you. Ever.

You flushed, not expecting that at all. Sure, you’ve both danced around the subject, sharing affections, but…

MC: Wait until you’re sober to tell me that…

Zayne: Does it matter? I’ve felt this way my entire life…

You’re sure he can feel the way your heart races. Like a sixth sense. He gives you an absolutely lovesick smile and leans up to nuzzle your nose with his. Even under this spell, your comfort and safety comes first.

When Zayne comes to, he’s slightly embarrassed by the whole ordeal but rolls with it anyways.

Zayne: Not exactly how I pictured that, but— would you like to go on a proper date with me?

Oh boy. Rafayel’s already clingy as it is. Imagine him getting smacked in the face with Heartbreaker’s love letter spell? Absolutely horrible. Thomas had to cancel his event with how insufferable and whiny Rafayel was acting. And god forbid you leave his side for even a second— How dare you!

Rafayel: Just say you hate me and want me to die!

MC: I don’t see what the big deal is. I just need to—

Rafayel: NO!

Rafayel sprung to his feet on wobbly legs. He can’t hold himself up, so he falls into your arms like a dainty princess. Lucky for him, you’re too lost in the impossible colors in his eyes to chastise him. With flushed cheeks, he furrows his eyebrows in a cute glare and tells you how he feels.

Rafayel: I don’t want you to leave me ever! I want you to stay by my side.

MC: I can only do so much as your bodyguard—

Rafayel: *shakes his head* Not as my bodyguard! As my soulmate!

Your heart stopped. Did he mean it? Like, really mean it? Rafayel always flirted with you, but you always took it in good jest, secretly wishing it was real. But now…

When Rafayel sobers up, he grabs your hand, gently cradling your face.

Rafayel: I meant it you know… Every single word… Let me take you out on a date. Just me and you…

Writing this report to Jenna was going to be tricky. I mean, how do you tell your boss that the strongest hunter on the team was completely inebriated by a love spell? Xavier, being the dashing and heroic hunter you knew, stepped in front of you as Heartbreaker unleashed their newest spell. The force of nature that was your partner has been reduced to a pile of goop clinging onto your shoulder like his life depended on it. As you walked him up to his apartment, you had to fight down the burn in your cheeks as he complimented the smell of your hair and the new lipstick you bought. He was close. Too close.

MC: Alright, Xavier. Here we go. Just give me your keys and you’ll be home safe and sound— WAH!

Xavier had unlocked the door for you and fell in, bringing you down with him. You landed on his chest with an oof, concerned on whether or not he hit his head.

MC: Are you okay?!

As you felt around the back of his head for any bumps, his arms around you tightened, pinning you to his chest. You flushed, your noses almost touching. His eyes linger on your lips, a hand going up to play with your hair as he hummed.

Xavier: I’m okay…

MC: Aha… That’s good. Um, could you let me up now.

He furrowed his brows with a serious glint in his eyes.

Xavier: No.

MC: But I need to—

Xavier: You don’t need to do anything. Not without me. We’re partners—

MC: Yes… Work partners—

Xavier: For life.

Woahhhh. He hasn’t even asked out on a date yet at that point. When he comes to, he’s genuinely confused by what he had just admitted to you. But he wasn’t going to back down.

Xavier: That wasn’t how it went in the books I’ve read but… Do you want… To go out sometime?

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moonstruckme · 10 months

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hi mae!! i was wondering if you’d write poly!marauders x reader with some angst? maybe they’ve had an argument (they say something really hurtful to her) and reader wants to be left alone and they assume that she wants to break up w them? maybe some begging/pleading on their side pls

totally okay if you don’t want to write this<3 have a lovely day ml 🫶🏽

Hi sweetheart! Thanks for requesting and hope you're having a lovely day too :)

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words

It had started laughably small. Tensions had to have been high for awhile, you must just not have been able to see it, because you were all so ready to go off. Sirius had remarked that you’d left the living room a mess. You’d shot back that if he’d offered to make dinner, you might’ve had time to tidy. It had devolved into an argument about why you were so busy in the first place, even though he knew you’d been absolutely mobbed at work lately. You’d been getting more and more piled onto your plate, and you weren’t sure whether the higher-ups were testing you to see about giving you a promotion (or, Merlin forbid, firing you) or whether it was just a busy time of the year, but it didn’t matter because you loved your job and you’d do whatever it took to keep it. It didn’t matter to Sirius, either, apparently; what mattered was that you’d been spending more time at work, and when you weren’t there, you took your work home, always bent over your laptop instead of spending time with your boyfriends.

When Remus and James tried to smooth things over, they only ended up getting dragged in too, and soon you were fighting about whether you should tell your bosses you couldn’t handle your workload (you’d rather cut off your left foot) and how they didn’t understand how important this was to you (they claimed they did) and that you were prioritizing work over your relationship and that they were needy for making you choose like that, and on and on with voices rising and tensions heightening until Sirius all but yelled, “I don’t care what happens to you at work, you shouldn’t want that more than you want us!”

You’d gone quiet. Everyone had. Remus and James seemed to know that he’d crossed a line with you, but they didn’t correct him. Their silence was clear enough: they agreed.

Your body couldn’t decide between anger and anguish, and you’d worried that if you kept going, you’d scream at them. So you’d just said, “I can’t do this,” and left.

You’ve been walking around for over an hour now. Aimless circles around your neighborhood and the surrounding streets. Lamplights are flickering on as twilight turns to darkness, the nighttime breeze cooling the teartracks on your cheeks. You keep turning the whole thing over in your head, but you can’t stop fixating on the last thing Sirius said and the other boys’ wordless agreement. Selfishly, it’s the first part that troubles you most: I don’t care what happens to you at work. Your work is endlessly important to you. Before you met the boys, it was nearly the only thing you were living for. You’d put years into school and menial, boring jobs to get the one you have now. You love what you do. Do they not understand that about you? You don’t get how they can claim to care about you, and not care about this thing that is at the core of who you are.

Then there’s the second part. You shouldn’t want that more than you want us. As a statement, it’s true. But the implication is dead wrong. Because you don’t care more for your job than you do them. If you had to lose one or the other, you’d give up your job in a heartbeat. But as far as you know, you’re only at risk of losing one right now, so why can’t your boyfriends just sit tight for a couple weeks while you fight to keep it?

You’re hurting for yourself and for them, because how could they think that you don’t care about them? You feel like your heart is being cleaved in two.

When you arrive back at your apartment, you still don’t know what to do, but you feel calmer. You don’t really expect anyone else to have cooled down—Sirius especially, whose anger ignites quickly and takes time to burn out—and you don’t particularly want to keep arguing, but you will, until you all see each other more clearly. You’re ready to explain yourself better, to soothe and smooth over whatever you can.

But when you open the door, the silence startles you. It’s like someone has sucked the air from your apartment, the atmosphere stale and morose.

James turns from where he’s sitting on the couch, eyes widening. “You’re back.”

Remus appears, sitting up from where he’d been lying next to James, and Sirius emerges from your bedroom. Each of their eyes look as red as yours probably do, and the sight makes your heart feel heavy in your chest.

“Y/N,” Sirius says, and it’s not so much the croakiness of his voice as the fact that he’s not trying to hide it that raises alarms with you, “I’m sorry. I went too far, I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.”

“It’s okay,” you say without thinking, even though it hadn’t felt okay at the time. You’ll say anything to get him to snap out of whatever this is, the misery in his eyes unfamiliar and terrifying.

“We shouldn’t have asked you to choose between us and your work,” Remus says, his features tight with something that looks like grief. “Do what you need to, just stay here with us, please.”

You hesitate, feeling like there’s something you’ve missed. You hadn’t been gone too long, had you? Had they been worried you’d been hurt or something?

Before you can ask, James reaches out a hand to you over the top of the couch, and you step forward to take it, giving him a reassuring squeeze as his eyes well with tears. “We love you so much,” he says, uncharacteristically quiet, and you feel like someone has plunged a knife into your middle and twisted. “It’d feel so stupid to break up over the living room being messy. Let’s just talk this over, yeah?”

Your hand goes limp in his. “Break up?”

You get only blank looks in reply.

“You’re breaking up with me?”

“Wh—dovey, no,” Remus sputters. “But aren’t…we thought you were breaking up with us. Weren’t you?”

“Of course not!” You press a hand to your chest, just to make sure your heart’s still going in there. “I was upset, but not…I was never going to leave you over it.”

“You said you couldn’t do this anymore,” Sirius says, almost disbelieving.

“I meant the argument, not our relationship.”

“Oh, fuck.” James throws his head back on the couch cushions with a relieved exhale. “So we’re all still together, just in a fight?”

“Just in a fight,” you agree, and you’ve never been happier to admit to conflict. You start towards Sirius, throwing your arms around his neck, and you can feel his shock as he stiffens, then brings his hands to your back. “I’m sorry too,” you say, letting go after a moment and turning so you can see all of your boys. “I didn’t mean to make you all feel like you weren’t important to me. I just wanted you to understand that my job is important to me, too. And I’m getting really scared that if I can’t keep up, I could lose it.”

“Sweetheart.” James beckons, and you go into his arms, settling in. These are the kinds of arguments you like best; the ones where you all listen to each other, working towards a solution as people who love each other instead of opponents. “We don’t want you to lose your job either.”

“I don’t think this busy season will last much longer,” you say earnestly. “And if it does, I promise I’ll talk to someone and try to get a lighter workload. Do you guys think that you could give me a couple more weeks? I’ll try to be around more, but I just want…it’s important to me to be sure I’m going to be able to keep my job.”

Sirius huffs, going to sit in the chair across from you. “Well, it sounds so fucking rational when you put it like that.” He cracks a smile, and you return it hesitantly. “Yeah, I think I can manage a couple weeks. What about you guys?”

Remus hums his assent, and James nods eagerly, clearly ready to be done with the conflict portion of the evening.

“Sorry I scared you,” you say, guilt still a dull ache in your chest. You kiss James’ cheek, and the skin there tastes faintly salty, but a dimple forms as he smiles at you. “I’m not going to break up with you guys, ever, but I swear that if I’m ever thinking about it, I’ll be more explicit.”

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kiwinatorwaffles · 4 months

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not to post "discourse" on main but why can't the mcyt fandom just be normal about the creators jokingly dragging their servermates or killing each other in game or, god forbid, having banter as friends.

why are we sending death threats to gem for killing people in the hardcore server about killing people? why are we bullying ren for having a fun roleplay arc as a king? why are we flaming mumbo for being jokingly mean to his dear friends? why are we shittalking iskall for lying to wels in the game about lying? why are we being rude to false for surviving in the game about surviving fair and square?

i thought we were over this dangerous paraosociality stuff. i know i'm talking mostly about hermitcraft but most of our favorite creators are grown ass people who know their boundaries with their friends. you're not going to get a medal for whiteknighting against their own friends, of which they specify MULTIPLE TIMES that it's all just for fun and games.

this shit is the reason why creators get wary about interacting with each other freely. if you want to get mad, get mad in private. don't maintag your rants. don't spread it around huge servers or on social media where the creators can see them. and definitely DO NOT FUCKING SHITTALK THEM IN A CREATOR'S PATREON DISCORD SERVER GENERAL CHAT. jesus christ i thought we were better than this. this is why half of the internet treats the mcyt fandom like untouchable piles of burning waste

#mcyt #hermitcraft #discourse #kiwi’s calls #life series

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ro-is-struggling · 11 months

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In Sickness And In Health || Clark Kent x Reader

Summary: You're terrified that your boyfriend Clark —the local superhero and most perfect man on the planet— will see you sick, so you forbid him to visit you while you have a cold. However, when he shows up at your door saying he misses you, he proves that your insecurities were unwarranted.

Warnings: fluff, established relationship, reader being a little insecure, hurt/comfort kinda, my shitty titles (I tried my best :c )

English is not my first language

Word count: 2200

Notes: I wrote this for me while I was recovering from a cold that had me in bed feeling miserable for days. I was a mess and I felt ugly so I wrote this silly little thing to cheer me up as I continued to descend into the Henry Cavill filmography rabbit hole lol I decided to share it bc why not? Hope you guys like it c:

You hated being sick. You hated feeling weak and tired all day, spending hours in bed surrounded by used tissues. You hated that your throat felt scratchy and that your stuffy nose made you have to choose between eating and breathing. You hated having your daily routine interrupted by a stupid cold, but most of all you hated not feeling like yourself.

You were a mess when you got sick, tangled hair tied up in a messy bun and wearing pajamas all day. You usually didn't move from your bed, which resulted in mountains of used tissues piling up on every surface near you. Multiple cups with leftover tea and a packet of crackers decorated the bedside table, being your main source of food for the day. It was an unpleasant sight so you preferred to spend your sick days alone in the quiet of your home where no one could see your red, irritated nose or the filth you were living in.

You had specifically asked Clark not to come by your house for that very reason. You loved him to death, but you weren't prepared to let him see you in that state. You felt ugly when you were sick, almost unworthy to be in the presence of someone as perfect and magnificent as him. Clark was literally the perfect man, he never got sick or had to deal with colds in the winter or allergies in the spring. It was almost impossible to see him disheveled since he was able to stop a building from collapsing with his bare hands without a single hair on his head moving out of place. You knew he loved you and didn't care what you looked like, but you couldn't help but feel self-conscious about it since he was literally perfect. So, to save yourself trouble and to concentrate your energy on recovering, you asked him not to come see you for a few days.

Clark respected your wishes at first, but after two days without seeing you he couldn't wait. He missed you and didn't understand your insistence on being alone, it wasn't as if he could catch a cold from you. So when he finished his shift at the Daily Planet he headed to your apartment —stopping on the way just to buy some groceries and a bouquet of flowers for you. He didn't text you that he was going to see you, knowing that if he did you would find some excuse or some way to convince him to go home instead. That's why you were surprised to see him there when you peeked through the peephole in the door before opening it.

"Clark, what are you doing here?" You exclaimed with a mixture of surprise and annoyance. He wasn't supposed to be there. "I thought I told you not to come here!"

"I know, but I missed you." He pouted and you had to look away from the peep hole before he managed to convince you to let him in with those hurt puppy dog eyes of his. You missed him too, but you were in no condition to be around anyone, let alone him.

"I brought food, I thought maybe I could cook for you while you rest." Clark insisted when you didn't respond. You couldn't help but smile at his thoughtfulness, he sounded so genuinely interested in helping you and taking care of you that it almost broke your heart to have to say no to him.

"I'm not hungry," you lied. "You should go home, Clark."

"Why won't you let me take care of you?" he sighed in frustration. You leaned your forehead against the wood door, debating whether you should tell him the truth. You suddenly felt stupid for having such a specific and probably irrelevant insecurity, but it wasn't like you could control it.

Despite the fact that you and Clark had been dating for quite a while, you still had a fair amount of 'first times'. You hadn't yet gone on vacation together for example, and he still hadn't met your family —though not by his own choice, he really wanted to. And, among other things, he had never seen you being sick. It was such a silly thing, but you felt ugly and disgusting and all you wanted to do was disappear under the covers and not come out until the cold was cured so no human being would ever have to see you in that state.

"It's not that I don't want to," you muttered more to yourself than for him to hear, though you knew he could do it because of his powers. You fiddled nervously with the seam of your t-shirt, feeling a little silly for having to talk about this out loud. "It's just that I'm not in the mood to have guests."

"I'm not a guest, I'm your boyfriend."

“Claaark!” You pouted, begging the universe not to make you say out loud what your real problem was. You heard him let out a chuckle from the other side of the door and rolled your eyes, frustrated that he found the situation funny.

"What?" His voice was a perfect mix of confusion and amusement.

"It's just that... I'm not presentable, the house is a mess and I feel ugly. I'd rather you didn't see me like this."

There was a long silence. Your fingers began to tug at the threads of the seam of the hem of your t-shirt while your teeth nervously nibbled at the skin of your lips, waiting for a response from your boyfriend. The tension grew with every second, time seemed to drag on as the uncertainty of silence ate you up inside. And then you heard a laugh.

Clark was laughing.

It wasn't a mocking or evil laugh, more an expression of his own surprise at your revelation. But it still bothered you. "I'm sorry, is this funny to you?"

"Yeah, a little." He replied with a chuckle and you let out a sigh of genuine disbelief. "I mean, you know I can see you through the door, right?" your eyes grew wide at the realization that due to his powers he had been watching you all this time. You turned quickly, facing away from the door as you hid your face in your hands.

"Clark, stop it right now!" You ordered him and he let out another chuckle. "I mean it!"

"I'm sorry, it's just that I find it a little ridiculous. I mean, you have to know I couldn't care less about how you look. All I want to do is be with you and take care of you, baby." It melted your heart to hear the sincerity in her voice. It wasn't like you didn't know that, but it was nice to hear him say it, to reassure you that his love for you was genuine and pure.

A part of you was dying to be pampered by him, to lose yourself in the warmth of Clark's strong arms as he held you against his chest, soothing all your aches and pains with his presence alone. It was tempting to think of him pacing around the apartment, making tea and cooking dinner while you rested between the sheets. But the other part of you —-the part that was usually in control of your decisions— hesitated, afraid of shattering some sort of illusion or image Clark had of you. It was silly and it only got sillier every time you thought about it, but you still couldn't bring yourself to open the door for him.

"I know, but still... I'm not ready for you to see me like this. I look hideous."

"You could never look hideous, baby." Clark sighed. His voice sounded closer and clearer, an indicator that he had moved closer to the door.

"You're just saying that because you love me and love has made you stupid and blind."

"Well, yeah, of course I love you. But also, you truly are the most beautiful woman in the world." You smiled to yourself, feeling your insides filling with that comforting warm feeling that you could only describe as the flame of love. Clark always knew just what to say to make all your problems go away. It was one of his best abilities, even if it was under-appreciated when compared to the rest of his powers.

"Flattery will get you nowhere." You lied, knowing full well that his sweet words were slowly softening the hard protective shield you had raised around your heart.

"C'mon, sweetheart! I'm gonna have to see you while you're sick eventually. Or what, once we live together you plan to lock yourself in the bedroom for a week and make me sleep on the couch so I don't see you with a cold? Or maybe I'll have to rent a room in a hotel until you get better? Is that what you want?"

You were silent for a moment as your brain tried to process what he had said, not his ridiculous options for staying apart when you were sick, but the part where he mentioned a future together. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't already imagined what your life together would be like for the next forty years. You wanted to wake up next to Clark every morning, share your free time with him and grow old by his side. He was the love of your life, you were sure of that. But what you didn't know was that he was also thinking about your future together.

"Once we live together?" you repeated in an excited whisper, the smile on your face widening. "You think about that stuff?"

"Of course I do!" he assured you, sounding slightly offended that you thought otherwise. It hadn't been his intention to make it obvious that every night before bed he imagined his life with you, but he wasn't hiding it either. He was shamelessly in love with you so why bother disguising it. "I want everything with you, sweetheart. I love you."

All worries faded from your mind, banished by the echo of Clark's sweet words. Your hands worked quickly over the locks on the door, removing the latch before turning the key to unlock it. He had won, there was no way you could tell him to leave after such a confession of love. All you wanted to do was hug him and lose yourself in the warmth of his body until you melted into one, show him how much you loved him and how important his words were to you. It was more than the expression of a wish or a projection of the future. It was a promise. The promise of love and commitment. He wanted to be with you in sickness and in health, in good times and in hard times. Clark loved you as much as you loved him and that was all you needed to know to feel better.

"You cheated." You joked as you opened the door, stepping aside to let your boyfriend in. He smiled in amusement at your childish pout, letting out a slight chuckle as he set the shopping bag aside to close the door behind him

"I was just being honest." Clark looked at you with such adoration in his eyes —his blue orbs glowing with the spark of love— that you couldn't help but feel self-conscious. Blood rushed to your cheeks, making you feel warm for the first time since you'd caught a cold.

"Stop it!" you whined, hiding your face in his chest as a defense mechanism to cope with how vulnerable you felt.

You'd never been good at receiving compliments and always felt awkward when someone said something nice about you, unsure how to respond other than with a shy smile. And even though Clark seemed to make it his favorite pastime to give you compliments, it hadn't gotten any better. You still felt silly every time he complimented your outfit before going out to dinner or when he told you how beautiful you looked the next morning when you woke up in his arms. But just because you didn't know how to respond to his beautiful words other than with smiles and incoherent sounds of happiness didn't mean you didn't appreciate them. On the contrary, you loved the comforting warmth that flooded your insides every time he smiled at you, looking at you with pure love in his eyes. It made you feel special in a way that no one ever had before. It reassured you that you were on the correct path to happiness.

"I love you." You mumbled against Clark's chest and felt him tighten his grip on you, trapping you in his strong arms. You let the warmth of his body envelop you, slowly dissipating all your troubles. His simple presence was more powerful than any drug or medicine you could take, effectively making you forget all your problems in a matter of seconds. His hug alone was able to lift your spirits, restoring color and joy to your tired expression. That was the effect he had on you.

"I love you too, sweetheart." Clark whispered against your hair, placing a delicate kiss on the top of your head. "Now, will you let me take care of you?"

#clark kent x reader #clark kent x female reader #clark kent fluff #clark kent x reader fluff #clark kent imagine #superman x reader #superman x female reader #superman imagine #henry cavill #henry cavill x reader

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augustinewrites · 1 year

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today is the day.

katsuki’s feared it, dreaded it, and it’s finally arrived. the date on your calendar that is circled and underlined twice, reading:

housewarming party.

the smiley face you added doesn’t make it any less insufferable.

“looks good, babe,” katsuki hums, reaching around you to steal one of the appetizers you’re arranging.

“hey, uh-uh,” you scold, slapping at his hand. “those are for our guests.”

“i bought these ingredients,” he huffs. “i can eat what i want.”

the look on your face tells him otherwise.

“remind me again why we’re doing this,” he grumbles, leaning cross-armed on the edge of the island counter as he watches you work. he supposes having people over was inevitable, considering his friends now knew his address and never respected boundaries, but he didn’t understand why you’d want all of them over at once.

“because they’re our friends,” you remind him. “and it’s nice to have a simple, civilized get together with your friends once in a while.”

“you want to do something civilized? with those chucklefucks?”

you glance over your shoulder to fix him with a stern look. “friends don’t call friends chucklefucks, katsuki.”

“why not? it’s what they are.”

“one of those chucklefucks is ahead of you on the hero billboards, you know.”

the comment earns you a firm smack on the ass, katsuki rolling his eyes when you giggle. katsuki is a master of many things, but having patience when it comes to his friends is not one of them.

“okay,” you start, turning around and gesturing to your earrings. “look at these. what do you see?”

his brows furrow. “a couple ten thousand on my card…”

“no!” you laugh, even though he’s somewhat right. “they’re new earrings. new earrings, for a new mindset.”

you tap your temple, but katsuki doesn’t even pretend to agree your statement makes sense.

“that’s not how that works.”

“alright,” you sigh, placing your hands on his shoulders and leaning in to place a kiss on his frowing lips. “it’ll be fine, babe. besides, it’s too late now. i’ve already set out our good plates, so if we’re not inviting your friends over—”

“anyone else, babe,” he groans, resting his chin atop your shoulder “anyone.”

“oh? should i cancel and call your mom instead?”

_____

“hey! bakugou!”

you’ll probably make him sleep on the couch if he slams the door in their faces, so it’s with great effort that he sends them a tight-lipped smile and steps aside to let them in. “hey.”

denki claps him on the shoulder, slipping his shoes off but not putting them aside. kirishima quickly moves them to the mat before his friend can throw them at the electric dipshit hugging you in the kitchen.

yeah. this was going to be a long night.

kirishima, to his credit, presents him with a bottle of wine before heading in. “you ready for tonight?”

“absolutely not,” he scoffs, taking the bottle and inspecting its label. he doesn’t miss kirishima’s relieved sigh when his brows raise in approval.

the redhead then grasps his shoulder, grinning from ear to ear. “don’t worry. as long as no one asks kami about his new single or mina starts a game of uno, everything will be fine.”

_____

things were absolutely not fine. you’re a liar, kirishima is a liar, and kaminari is a terrible singer.

he’s almost grateful when the grazing board you’d carefully laid out starts to empty, because it gives him an excuse to step away and refill it (god forbid he let his friends starve).

but it seems you’ve beat him to the task, because when he opens the door to the pantry, you’re already inside.

“what the—”

you pull him into the pantry, poking your head out to make sure no one is following before shutting it tightly. you whirl around, hands on your hips and looking at him like he’s the crazy one. “why aren’t you out there?”

“i was looking for crackers,” he tells you, noting the pile of wrappers gathered atop the bottom shelf. “why aren’t you out there?”

he almost regrets asking when you exhale harshly through your nose, pressing your hands together and raising them to your lips. “because your friends refuse to use coasters.”

“oh, so now that they’re pissing ya off they’re just my friends?”

“yes!” you confirm as if that makes complete sense.

“well, you invited them,” he points out, grabbing the box of crackers he’d been looking for and tearing it open. he stuffs a few in his mouth before holding it out to you in offering.

you take a cracker, sinking down to the floor and hanging your head between your knees. “and i love them! but they’re…”

“a lot is what they fuckin’ are.”

when you pout, he reaches behind a few boxes of cereal, pulling out a bottle of wine.

“you hid wine in the pantry?”

katsuki settles himself next to you, letting you rest your head on his shoulder. “had a feeling your ‘new earrings, new mindset’ shit wouldn’t work.”

“you’re not gonna say ‘i told you so?’”

“no,” he chuckles, kissing the top of your head. “i will start looking at new apartments though.”

this time, you agree. “yeah, we definitely have to move.”

#bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bnha x reader #bnha fluff

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albino-notes · 7 days

Text

Packing Party

Description: ★ᯓ Caught in the middle of a relentless argument with your soon-to-be ex-boyfriend Joost, you find yourself packing his suitcase in a desperate attempt to distract yourself. Tensions run high, but despite the hardships, you realize that your love is worth fighting for. ᯓ★

Pairing: Joost x gn!reader

Word Count: 2k

Contents: a whole lot of angst

A/N: had this idea in mind for a while, so i finally made a blog to join the party. pls be gentle with me :)

With ringing ears and a sore throat, you reached for the suitcase on top of the wardrobe. Your shaking hands were begging to be used for something other than making all sorts of angry gestures at your soon-to-be ex-boyfriend in a fight that seemed to have no end in sight. So, you set the suitcase down on your bed and started throwing in random articles of clothing. You weren’t thinking about the contents of the luggage—occasionally getting your and your boyfriend’s shirt shelves mixed up—you just needed to keep yourself busy. You didn’t want to spend the little energy you had left on anything involving explosive accusations, hurt feelings, or tear-stained cheeks.

“You don’t have to do that.” Joost sighed, closing the lid of the black carry-on. You barely registered him. Instead, you worked off your mental packing list so your endeavour would at least be productive: the white long-sleeved shirt with the black tie, the kilt, the striped shirt with its sleeves cut off that was originally yours but was now a staple piece in your boyfriend’s tour wardrobe.

“Jesus, will you please stop this? I can do this on my own.”

You didn’t answer him. Joost exhaled sharply. You didn’t have to look at him to know that he was annoyed. Finally, the sight of a particular T-shirt brought your frantic packing frenzy to a halt. Your pale, cold fingers glided over the soft, black material and finally over the vinyl print depicting Lola Bunny. You had bought it for him in a second-hand store in Berlin just a few months after you started dating. He loved it so much that he wore it every chance he got—on dates, during interviews, even during his shows sometimes. But you couldn’t remember when he’d worn it last. The T-shirt was crumpled up underneath a pile of other identical black T-shirts. It felt as unloved as you did in that moment. Your glossy eyes brimmed with tears again.

“Teun’s girlfriend is spending the night in Amsterdam tomorrow so she can see him off to the airport.”

You pushed the T-shirt to the back of the compartment, pulling out the white “I <3 Joost Klein” T-shirt instead and moved it to the suitcase. Only then did you take in Joost’s presence at the edge of the bed, with his hands folded together in his lap.

“Good for them,” you muttered, but you didn’t look up at him. Instead, you turned your attention back to the wooden wardrobe.

“For fuck’s sake. Do you need a written invitation? I’d like you to come with me,” Joost scowled, his voice raised significantly. “God forbid I want to spend some time with my girlfriend.”

It felt both reassuring and disconcerting that he was still referring to you as his girlfriend. Truth is, you hadn’t felt like his girlfriend in a while. This might be the last time he would call you that, so you savoured it despite the bitter aftertaste.

“Didn’t sound like that yesterday.” The memories all came flooding back to you. The screaming. The crying. The pure hatred in both of your voices. The half-hearted apologies that couldn’t mend any of the pain that the past week had caused you.

“I know. I already apologized for that.”

You turned around to face him now, for the first time that evening. His eyes were puffy from crying and there were deep, red lines in his forehead. He looked exhausted from the nonstop fighting, but so were you. You crossed your arms in front of your torso. “Okay, but it still stung when you said you couldn’t wait to get away from me. So maybe you should just go alone.”

“I know that…” He swallowed, rubbing his forehead. “But now I’m trying to make it up to you. Will you please come to Amsterdam with me?”

You huffed. “Why? So we can smash each other’s heads in at the Van Gogh Museum?”

“Why are we doing this now? I’m trying to tell you I want you there. Is that not enough? Do you want me to crawl on my knees and beg?”

“You can’t pull this shit with me right now, Joost. Just because you’re leaving doesn’t mean we should ignore everything that’s happened.” Admittedly, you couldn’t even remember all the reasons why you had been fighting so much lately. It was a mix between petty arguments about house chores blown out of proportion and unresolved and uncommunicated issues from the past exacerbated by the fact that you were both stressed about your own things. You had been unsuccessful in trying to find a job for a few months, and Joost had been spending most of his time at the office planning his headlining tour. Things had been tense for a while, and the fact that Joost was leaving soon made it feel like the fight had a resolution deadline set for tomorrow evening, which only added to the pressure.

“At least I’m trying to make things better. All you seem to want to do is fight.” Joost’s voice was barely audible, but you could perfectly make out the venom in it.

“Is that really what you think of me?”

“No,” he quickly said, “of course not. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You really need to think before you speak, then.”

“At least I’m trying to talk to you. You haven’t said a fucking word to me all day. Hell, you haven’t even looked at me since last night.”

“Okay fine, let’s talk.” You pushed the right wardrobe door shut with more force than intended, immediately turning around to see Joost cupping his noise-sensitive ears with a grimace. Your heart dropped immediately, rushing to his side.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” you said, letting your worn-out body flop down on the ground. In that moment, Joost reminded you of a helpless puppy. You knew he couldn’t stand sudden loud noises, usually walking around with earplugs without listening to music so it would cancel some of the noise. You pulled your knees towards yourself, looking up at your boyfriend’s blue eyes. His hands were resting on his thighs again, his feet dangling over the edge of your bed. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to fight anymore.”

You were tired, so incredibly tired. You wanted nothing more than to fall into a deep slumber next to Joost and wake up with his arms wrapped protectively around you. You did want to go to Amsterdam and spend a relaxing day with him and his friends and do a little bit of sightseeing before he left; you wanted to drive him to the airport and cry as you parted ways, declaring that you’d call and text as much as possible while he was away on tour for the next two months. You wanted the harmonious relationship back that you had tried so hard to build in those three years together, but you also knew you couldn’t pretend as if these horrible weeks had never happened. Like all these venomous words had never come out of your mouths.

“Me neither.” Joost was now the one avoiding your gaze, although his facial expression had softened. His left hand hovered over the suitcase before tugging on a pair of jeans, causing the entire stack of neatly folded clothes on top of them to collapse. “Those are yours.”

“Okay,” you said. Now you were the one growing frustrated with the way you were both avoiding the conversation at hand. You grabbed the pair of dark blue jeans from him, his cold and touch sending shivers down your spine. The sensation of the usually so familiar body now felt so strange and wrong.

You put the pants back into the wardrobe with disenchantment. Packing with your boyfriend for tour used to be so fun and light-hearted; you would put on your carefully curated Hyperpop playlist on full volume, dancing around the bedroom while passing around random articles of clothing that would end up crumpled up and crammed into the suitcase until it almost wouldn’t close anymore. And not to forget about the mandatory kiss after something would successfully make it into the carry-on. Those packing parties would usually take a few hours, but they always ended with roaring laughter as one of you was tasked with sitting down on the overflowing suitcase while the other tried to zip it up. Neither of you cared about how inefficient this process was, as it successfully made you forget about the tragic situation at hand—the otherwise inseparable couple being separated for Joost’s job.

You felt guilty about the fact that you were almost glad he was leaving, the words that had stabbed you like a knife the night before now running through your own mind. But you hadn’t been able to take a proper breather for weeks, his stifling presence lingering in every corner of your shared apartment. It was hard to avoid each other when you had never had a reason to.

“I’ll see if I can come see you at Lowlands.”

He scowled. “How noble of you.”

You clicked your tongue in annoyance. How did he expect you to come with him to Amsterdam if the only form of communication you had lately was snarking at each other? You felt your cheeks becoming wet again. You were desperate to finally stop fighting. You couldn’t do this anymore. “I’m trying here, Joost. I’ll try to visit you on tour, but I think it’s better if we have some space in the meantime.”

“I guess you’re right.” He furrowed his eyebrows and let out a loud sigh, burrowing his head in his hands.

It was evident that you wouldn’t make up before he left. It was clear you were holding grudges against each other that would take a long time to be resolved, but you weren’t willing to give up. You had never loved anyone as deeply as Joost, and at the height of your relationship, you had never felt so loved by anyone before. You had the kind of bond that made people jealous and at times even annoyed because of how well you two were attuned to each other. And to make matters worse, you both were scared to death of being abandoned by the people closest to you, having both made painful experiences regarding that in the past. Now more than ever, you had to fight for love because even though these past few weeks had been among the hardest of your life, you knew you weren’t ready to let him go. Despite all the hardships, you knew Joost Klein was the love of your life.

You stood up from the floor, your legs trembling as you took the suitcase and placed it on the floor in front of Joost.

“Sit,” you ordered him. He looked at you with a puzzled expression.

“Sit down,” you repeated, grabbing his hand to help him up from his position on the bed. He obliged and sat down on the suitcase, the contents compressing under the pressure of Joost’s weight. You crouched down and fumbled for the zipper, closing the carry-on in one go.

You didn’t notice your hand resting on Joost’s lower leg at first, but neither of you seemed to mind it. You lightly rubbed the fabric of his track pants with your thumb as you looked up at him. His eyes looked glassy and tired. There was a bit of confusion there, but also acceptance. The fight might not be resolved, but you hadn’t given up on your relationship yet, and that made him hopeful about the future.

He carefully raised his hands to cup your cheeks. Despite everything, he still looked at you with so much love. You melted under his touch as he brought his lips closer and pressed a soft kiss on your hairline.

“The next packing party will be more fun, I promise,” he chuckled. You couldn’t manage a proper laugh, still so shaken up about the recent events, but as you looked at the now softening expression of your boyfriend, and how delicate he was with you even after everything that had gone down, the corners of your pressed-together mouth turned up almost automatically.

“I love you.”

“Ik hou ook van jou, mijn liefste.”

#joost klein #joost klein x reader #joost klein x you #joost klein fanfic #joost klein fluff

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scromchz · 1 year

Text

v for vendetta | elw (m.)

— your boss has seemingly had it out for you since day one.

contents. mean boss!ellie williams/intern!reader | smut, fluff | 3.1k

warnings. kinda loser!ellie, jelly ellie, cursing, mdni - smut, fingering, mild spit kink.

note. a reupload from prev blog with same name, with some edits. its a wee bit cringe to me so be prepared. but people seemed to like it so enjoy and happy pride month <3

Getting your foot into the corporate world was never going to be easy. You knew this before you even applied for the summer internship at the DarkHorse Tech conglomerate, well aware that you'd have to claw your way up from rock bottom without so much as chipping a manicured nail. But you were optimistic; freshly graduated from college, and ready to take the challenge head-on.

That was before you met Ellie Williams.

Boss to the company, and your personal tormenter. She made hell seem like a cozy vacation spot.

What you did to get under her skin was a mystery. Hell, you didn't even report to her directly. There were at least three meat shields between you and her within the hierarchy. But somewhere, somehow, you blipped onto her radar, and you have stayed there like a bad stain ever since.

She made your work life an agonizing affair, and nothing you ever did seem to please her. If anything it had the opposite effect. Paperwork you'd spent hours agonizing over was always a 'complete mess', and she'd keep you after hours in her office to belittle you without ever correcting any so-called mistakes.

She shoulder-checked you in the hallway and picked apart your appearance when nobody was around. It didn't matter if you were wearing a grandma sweater and a floor-length, shapeless skirt. She threatened to write you up for a dress code violation like you showed up in your birthday suit for casual Fridays.

You were sent on wild goose chases disguised as coffee runs to places that didn't even exist, then berated for arriving late and empty-handed. Or god forbid, with Starbucks. You were supposed to be doing data entry, for fucks sake. And if you were to so much as smile at one of your coworkers she would pop out of nowhere to tell you off for slacking, like a damn high-school hall monitor.

Anytime you tried to voice your grievances to your manager, they'd give you a sympathetic smile. What she says goes, they'd awkwardly relay, she's the boss.

There was nothing you could do. She wielded all the power and flaunted it outright. During the mandatory bullying and harassment presentation she even singled you out, asking by name if you had any questions or if there was anything you 'didn't understand'. Message received.

Today was no different.

She'd sent a pristine pile of cardstock flying out of your hands and onto the floor, tsking at you for being clumsy when she'd purposefully swiped at them. You had to get on your knees and meticulously pick up each one, all the while she loomed over you, a smug smile on her annoyingly perfect face.

Of course, you had to sacrifice your break to grab Ellie her own lunch from across town. While your coworkers got to enjoy their downtime in the breakroom you'd seen the inside of twice. You were exhausted, dropping her food off at her desk while she pretended you weren't there, but you couldn't even be bothered to care. That's not to say you didn't feel her eyes burning into your backside when you left.

What you didn't see was the furrow in her brows, concern lacing her heated gaze when she saw you were empty-handed. She knew for a fact she told you to get something for yourself when she handed over her card. Strike number one of the day. Not taking care of yourself was unacceptable.

She kept a close eye on you through her one-way office window, which was easy considering she had your desk moved directly into her line of sight. You were hunched over your desk, periodically wiping at your tired eyes to keep focused.

Then your shit-stick fellow interns had the gall to shirk their duties onto you. Like rolling around in daddy's money made them incapable of using a fax machine. And you, sweet, sweet you, had the nerve to weakly smile and say no problem. Ellie's eyes narrowed, aggressively chewing on her straw like an angry gremlin. Oh, there's a fucking problem all right. Strike number two.

As the clock neared five-thirty, you were nearly home free. If only office fuckboy extraordinaire hadn't waltzed over to you. What happened next made Ellie see red.

He made you blush. Oh, hell no.

Faster than you could kindly reject Brad's offer to take you out, the door to Ellie's office swung open. The force smacked it harshly into the adjoining wall.

She dismissed everyone for the day, and in the same breath barked out your name. "In my office," her tone left no room for disagreements. "Now."

Brad sucked in his teeth, offering a 'good luck' before high tailing it out of there along with the rest of the office. You could already hear whispers of your name, musings of what you did this time to warrant such an explosive reaction. Nobody envied you.

With shaky limbs, you stood, cowering under the weight of her glare. She held open the door, forcing you to brush against her suit-clad chest. The click of the lock sent a shiver down your spine.

"Sit," she commanded. But clicked her tongue when you slid into your usual seat in front of her desk. "No, not there."

You looked around in confusion, thinking you'd misheard her over your thunderous heartbeat. She looked expectant. Not to mention pissed.

But a cursory scan of the room confirms your thoughts. There were no chairs besides Ellie's, and the one you occupied.

You were used to her outlandish demands, but this was a whole new level. She was being difficult just to be difficult. Did she expect you to sit criss-cross apple sauce at her feet?

You pause, reigning in your irritation. "I don't understand. Ms. Williams, is—“

Angling your neck in her direction, your speech falters. She's much closer than you anticipated. Leaning down, her face was mere inches from your own. Your cheeks heat, and you're momentarily struck by her looks from up close.

It pains you to admit it, after everything she's put you through. The very person who makes you dread waking up in the morning can make your tummy flutter at the same beat. She was good-looking, objectively speaking. With the whole freckle-faced, green-eyed thing going on.

Plus she smelled good. Ugh.

Ellie's jaw clenches. "No. I don't think you do."

Before you can respond, probably with an unprofessional what the fuck, she's yanking you up out of your seat. You sputter, skin burning from the contact of her hand wrapped around your elbow. She uses it to maneuver you like a rag doll.

She purposefully steps forward as you stumble off-balanced and careen into her. Just when you think things couldn't get any stranger, Ellie abandons her hold on your arm, hooking around your waist instead, pressing your entire front into hers.

Her arms cage into you on either side of the desk, and it digs into your backside. "Your behavior today has been unacceptable. I should write you up—"

Something in you snaps.

"Then do it!" You cut in. You'd heard this exact spiel a hundred times over. And despite her numerous threats, your record remained spotless. "I am so sick of this. What'd I even do to make you hate me so much?!"

Momentarily, you seem to stun her. Weakly she mutters, "I don't hate you."

"Yeah right," you scoff, throwing propriety out the window.

Both of you were crossing lines, and you had to accept that you'd likely be out of a job come morning. She was the boss, after all. Blinking away an onslaught of tears, you focus over her shoulder at the beige walls.

She doesn't let you avoid her gaze for long. To your dismay, both her hands grip your face, forcing you to meet her frantic eyes.

"I- fuck, I don't. Seriously. I just," her voice actually cracked. Panic gripped her clear as day, a stark contrast to her typical nonchalant persona. It kept you from stomping on her foot and high tailing it out of there, if only just to see this through and get some long-awaited answers. "I never meant to— oh, fuck it."

Her chapped lips crashed into yours and time stopped. She was actually kissing you.

Frozen and wide-eyed, you see firsthand the way she melts. Her eyes flutter shut, pressing into you as close as possible so that you're forced backward — a few pens clattering off the desk

Never in your wildest dreams did you foresee this outcome. But for some inexplicable reason, you kiss her back.

Despite your shock, or the questions on the tip of your tongue. Your eyes shut, and your lips finally move against hers. A deep moan is pulled from the depths of her chest and into the slick heat of your mouth.

Grabbing at the lapels on Ellie's suit, you're pleased by how she bends to your whims, arching into you. Her hands wander, a timid quality you would've never attributed to her. She gives your lips chase when you pull away with a wet pwap.

"Why does this feel so, fuck-" you dazedly pant into her spit-slicked mouth. "So good."

"I can make you feel even better," she rushes out, thumbs massaging mindless circles into your hips. She looks drunk, glassy-eyed and flushed pink. "If you let me. Please."

Please. What a trip. You had half a mind to search the room for hidden prank-show cameras.

This new power you seem to hold over her thrums in your veins. It overshadows any lingering doubts, muting the little voice in your head that says this is a bad idea. Instead, you give into the giddy feeling, letting it rush to your head like fizzy soda bubbles.

Tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear, you nod. "Then touch me."

Her eyes light up like a kid on christmas, and her lips stretch into a toothy smile. It's crooked—but hell, is it cute.

Ellie hitches your legs around her hips and pulls your weight into her arms, all the while lavishing your neck with deep sucks. Mindlessly she says things like sweet girl, and even a succession of garbled thank you's. It throws you for a loop; but you can’t deny the way it makes you ache.

Kicking the rolling chair out of the way, she takes you both down to the carpeted floor, laying you gently beneath her. After getting the green light, her hesitation melts away.

Slipping under your shirt, she hungrily palms your tits beneath your bra. The tips of her fingers are calloused, but that fact only seems to heighten your pleasure when they pinch your nipple. With the hand other cradling your skull, she licks into your mouth.

Distracted by her sweet taste, you're caught off guard when Ellie jams a knee between your thighs, forcing out a squeaky, embarrassing moan.

"Fuck," she detaches with a pop, sounding awestruck. Resting her forehead against yours, she peers down. If only she could burn the image of you grinding against her, she would; driven further mad by the feeling of your hot cunt, searing even through the layers separating you.

Suddenly she sits up, shedding her suit jacket and rolling her sleeves to the elbow. She's the picture of sin. Somehow you never realized she was so toned— and, is that a tattoo?

You follow her lead, wriggling out of your blouse and tossing it aside. She helps you with the rest of your clothes, eagerly dragging down your skirt and leaving you in just a pair of cotton panties and a bra. You shy under her unwavering stare, not used to feeling so seen.

"You're unreal," she breathes, resting her hand on your tummy. Her stare lingers on your clothed pussy, the wetness seeping through making it mold to your puffy lips. A proud smirk appears on her face. "You're soaking, fuck. Do ya' always get this wet?"

You squirm, grabbing hold of her wrist. Not to stop her, just with the intention to anchor yourself. "Ms. Will-"

"Ellie," she corrects. She splays her long fingers and slides downwards, stopping to fully cup your heat. "Can I?"

"Yes," you whine, feverish with need. Ellie glides your underwear down your legs, knocking your knees together and pushing them toward your chest for easier access. Once off, she stuffs them into her pocket with zero shame.

Hunkering down, she grips your inner thighs, thumbs maddeningly close to where you're throbbing for her. Splaying them wide for her viewing pleasure, she sucks in a breath and the first sight of your glistening cunt.

"Knew your pussy would be cute," her husky voice drawls. She spreads your sticky folds with her index and middle finger, a string of slick keeping them connected. Exposing your flushed clit and twitching hole, she puckers her lips and with a puh, spits directly inside. Fucking hell— your hips buck, brain short-circuiting.

She doesn't let you get far. Ellie just chuckles, pinning your lower belly with her forearm. Now that she had you like this, there was no running away. Not when you'd only gotten a taste of the pleasure she intended to bestow.

She massages your opening with her thumb, just dipping the tip inside to ease you into it, feeling like sweet torture. Your core gets all cramped up from clenching around nothing, winding yourself up up up. Finally, she slips two of those long fingers inside, knuckle deep.

Scrambling for purchase, your grip finds her wrist like a bracelet. It seems to be your go-to, and you carve out a permanent place there with your nails. So slowly it aches, she bottoms out before tentatively thrusting.

"Oh m'god," you babble, eyes rolling. "oh m'god, you're inside me. I can feel you inside—!"

Ellie shudders, both at your words and the feel of your hot, wet cunt wrapped around her. Taking a deep breath is a mistake; she just gets a lungful of your heady scent. Combined with the feeling of you soaking her hand, her eyes full on roll to the back of her head

"Jesus." Her palm slips up your stomach, taking in every tense of muscle as an orgasm winds up in your core.

Tucking her fingers up in search of your special little spot, Ellie prods a bit before bingo — you clench up tight. You can't think, let alone speak. You can't recall a time you'd ever come so fast, but every curl of her fingers has you climbing up higher and higher to that peak.

Needing to be closer, Ellie plants her free forearm next to your head, upping the pace with her other hand. It grants her a front-row seat to every micro-expression you make, and she tailors her movements to what has you reacting best.

"Look at me," she murmurs, nose grazing your cheek. It takes a moment to comply, her voice sounding far away like you're underwater. "Good girl."

"El," you gasp, legs beginning to shake. Your eyes locked, begging for something.

"I know," she hushes, pecking your lips. She watches with bated breath the way your face crumples when her palm fits against your aching clit. It's just what you need, and your thighs keep her trapped there, grinding back and forth.

In a matter of seconds that feel like a lifetime, you reach your breaking point, cumming around her fingers. Every spasm pushes out a wave of stringy-slick, dribbling down her curled wrist and onto the floor. You don't envy the poor soul who will have to clean it up.

Ellie gently eases you back down to earth, shushing you softly. You can't recall when she slipped out, but from the corner of your eye, you see her stuff them into her mouth.

"Shit," you mutter. As the haze of lust starts to clear up, regret takes its place. You just let your boss, who gets their rocks off making you miserable, finger you on the floor of her office. God dammit--

"Hey," she says gently. It's the opposite reaction you're expecting. Instead of kicking you out, she sits you up, slipping her big jacket around you. When you're decent, she grabs and cradles your hand in two of hers. "I meant what I said. I don't hate you. The opposite, actually."

"Wha-" at first you tilt your head in confusion. Then you really take her in. The shifty eyes, the way she’s pulling at her fingers, those red capped ears of hers. Everything clicks. Oh. "Oh."

It never escaped you how she never paid anyone else the same level of attention. That even at its worst, she never truly hurt you. Just menaced you enough to become a fixture in your life.

"Yeah," she trails off.

"If you're serious, I need you to promise me something."

Ellie's gaze snaps to yours, completely moon-eyed. Reinvigorated, she laces your fingers together, planting a kiss on your knuckles. "Anything."

"One, no more bullshit."

She winces but readily agrees. "Of course."

"And two," you continue before she can jump the gun. "You take me out on a real date."

This gets you a real kiss. "I'll fly you to fucking Paris, whatever you want. Money is no obstacle."

You laugh against her lips. Jesus, this girl. "How about dinner and a movie to start."

"Fuck yeah. Sounds perfect."

For a few minutes, you bask in the moment, exchanging kisses before beginning to redress. Balancing with a hand on the desk to get your shoes on, you pause, suddenly remembering something.

“Can we circle back to the seat thing?” You ask, referencing her ridiculous demand from earlier. “Where were you even going with that?”

It takes a few seconds for your question to register, her mind and body still fuzzy. Then she flushes red, from her neck to the tips of her ears. Was she blushing? Now you were beyond intrigued.

“The desk,” she stutters. Your big scary boss actually stutters. “I was gonna, you know,” she clears her throat as if to dislodge the words.

Your grin is cheshire. “No, I don’t.”

“Like in the movies n’ stuff,” it’s as if it pains her to admit this. You eat it up. “I was gonna clear off the desk and make you sit there. It was supposed to be... sexy.”

You can’t help it. You laugh. “By 'clear' do you mean toss onto the floor?" You ask, eyeing the very breakable cutter on her desk. The image makes you laugh even harder, bellyaching. "You know that would’ve scared the shit out of me, right?”

Her pout deepens. Ellie buries her face into your neck, muffling her voice. “Shut up.”

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x female reader #ellie x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams x you #tlou fanfiction #tlou smut

1K notes · View notes

bahrtofane · 4 months

Text

kylians sick, and only you can make him feel better

word count - 1.1 k+

watch it - pure fluff ^^

-----

kylian feels like shit. a pile of straight garbage. what he thought was a small headache and stuffy nose has snowballed full force into the worst cold he’s had since he was like 5. at least he hopes it’s just a cold.

his eyes droop wet and cloudy with the tears that he keeps blinking away. he desperately wants to go to sleep but the constant leaking of his nose and the feeling of being permanently submerged in water from his ears down is making that impossible. his left ear hurts with each movement of his head, god forbid he yaws, not only does it send a shock wave of pain to his ear but also makes the swelling of his sore throat that much more apparent.

his head pounds, phone long forgotten somewhere tossed on the floor. and to top it all off he thinks he’s running a fever. it’s so cold, no matter how hard he tries to sink deeper into his mattress, hugging his comforter tighter, he can’t fight the constant chill that creeps up his spine.

it’s around 2 am last time he checked. god fucking dammit he just needs to go to bed. he so desperately wishes you were here, to kiss away his frustrated tears, tuck him into bed properly, make him feel better. but he doesn’t want to bother you. especially not at this time. he can power through this, he knows he can.

hours pass by in agony. the sweat has pooled in his sheets, sticking it to him and permanently settling in a cold he can’t shake off. it’s shit. he feels like shit. he probably smells like it too. And to make everything so much fucking better training is first thing tomorrow morning. Shit shit shit shit.

why does this always happen to him at the most inconvenient of times. what it the hair he didn’t dry off before bed 2 days ago? the coat he didn’t wear when taking the trash out? ice water he drank after practice? holy fucking shit, he writhes in his sheets and comforters again, silently praying to any entity out there to end this suffering.

the pain and exhaustion is what knocks him out. for better or worse.

——-

kylian eyes open blearily, blinking away harsh rays of sunlight and crusties from the restless night. when he wakes he realizes one of two things, 1) it’s way, way, past training, and 2) he feels impossibly worse.

he doesn’t get out of bed, mainly because he just can’t. the pain has immobilized him, fearing if he so much as moves an inch it’ll sink him further into helpless suffering.

so he whines pitifully and closes his eyes tight.

——-

he’s woken up again, but not by the sun, or pain. it’s the sound of his door opening that startles him awake. lovely, absolutely marvelous. he’s fucking bed ridden and about to be robbed. what a time to be alive.

the footsteps don’t sound like an intruders, soft and gentle as they pad around his apartment. kylian waits in silence. what if it’s someone sent to check on him? hakimi most likely.

when the door to his room opens he’s never been happier to be wrong.

it’s you, standing in his hoodie, wrapped in one of the blankets he leaves on the couch. a god send.

you take one look at his feeble state and frown.

“kyky?”

all he can do is manage a garbled response, more of a pitiful whine.

you rush over, kicking the blanket off and rushing up to cup his face in your hands.

“my sweet baby, are you sick?” you murmur.

a weak nod.

“shit you're burning up, hold on.”

you come back with a thermometer, gently opening his mouth and setting it under his tongue.

“hold still baby.” you whisper, hand holding his jaw in place, he almost melts into your touch.

he waits for what feels like hours, till the little beeps go off and you gently remove the plastic from his mouth.

“you have a fever all right. i prescribe to you bed rest, lots of fluids, and tylenol for the pain. “

he blinks sleepy and you take that as an answer.

you get to work tidying up his room for him while he blinky sleepily as you.

"just rest, I'll call the team for you."

he goes back to the safety of sleep the moment you finish your sentence.

—--

when he wakes out yet again, its to you at the foot of his bed, and a bowl of spoop in hand.

he grimaces at the thought but you shake your head, "you gotta eat baby."

he all but sobs trying to get up to eat properly, but you make it work. gently spooning the hot soup into his mouth.

it takes a little while but the soup is half done when he calls it quits. flopping back into his expanse of pillows and blankets.

he makes a noise and you feel his hand desperately reaching for you, as meek as can be. you give it to him, gently swiping your thumb over his.

bed time proves to be a hassle as all he can do is groan in pain, begging for you to join him in the very few words he can croak out.

“if i get sick, who will take care of you? “

he stays silent, out of spite or inability remains a mystery as you tuck him into bed properly and take your things to the guest room.

——-

thankfully, it is just a cold and he’s back to his usual self in no more than 3 days. all thanks to you.

he’s a quiet type of thanker, thanks lies in his actions and eyes rather than words.

the gentle hand that rests on the small of your back, picking you up even if its just a 5 minute drive. he gets you flowers, and even takes you out to dinner.

your smiles the whole way and it makes him beyond happy.

he finally gets those kisses he wanted to bad, easy and smooth against his skin.

"thank you darling." he hums, hands on your waist, bringing you close.

you smile against his lips, melting into them once more. you sit on his lap at the edge of his bed. at the edge of the world you feel sometimes.

"come to the match?" he almost begs.

"always."

"I have a jersey I want to see you in." he plays with the hem of your shirt.

"when do you not want to see me in your jersey?" you playfully roll your eyes.

he snorts, flipping you into your back, mercilessly attacking your sides with tickles as you burst at the seams.

you laugh till you cant breath, and he's enjoying this all too much. collapsing into you when he's had enough.

"your heavy." you squeak.

he pretends not to listen, you resort to kicking him off.

"wheres this jersey ?"

he immediately jumps at this, taking your hand in his to lead you to your 50th jersey of his at this point. you don't mind, if anything it fills you with pride and joy to wear his jerseys. always his.

#kylian mbappe #kylian imagines #kylian x reader #kylian x you #kylian mbappe x reader #kylian mbappe x you #kylian mbappe fluff #kylian mbappe fanfic #kylian mbappe one shot #kylian fanfic #kylian mbappe imagines #football headcanon #football imagine #kylian mbappe imagine

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chuunai · 1 month

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Hi there! I hope you're having a good day 💗💗. If possible, could you please do how the Bsd men would react to having a popular singer s/o? They could be like Robin from Hsr. If you don't know her, that's fine!

I believe Chuuya would buy your albums as soon as they're released and get VIP seats every single time. He would make sure to attend your concerts, no matter what.

Dazai would be like this:

chuuya ! buys VIP tickets the moment they come out. he doesn’t care you said he can get a free seat, the money goes to support you and your career. when the flow of your voice overtakes him, he’s awestruck by everything. the energetic dances, the sheen and shine of your costume and just you.

chuuya ! forces the mafia’s cafeteria to forever keep on loop your music during lunch hours. every single member of can recite both the oath to the organization and every song you’ve ever released. for every day of the week, it’s one of your albums or collaborations with other critically acclaimed musicians.

chuuya ! reminds you to take care of yourself. his girl can’t sing with a sleep-riddled voice, nor can she possibly dance with such sore feet, can she? no, you can’t, and so he smothers his care onto you. making healthy and delicious meals that your nutritionist approves of, running a hot bath filled with strawberry scented bubbles and a plate of fruit nearby. and of course, making honey laden tea for your throat to better aid your vocal cords.

chuuya ! has at least four of his most experienced and talented men guarding you when you’re out in public openly. stalkers and other obsessive fans are a common occurrence in your life, and he always has nightmares about someone kidnapping you or god forbid, killing you. an idol has to be protected, and he doesn’t trust anyone but himself to make sure you’re safe.

chuuya ! helps you make album covers and song lyrics. he’s seen so much in his life, and pouring out his story into a seamless chorus of melodies resonated to him. your album covers are always quite elaborate too—whatever you need, he can get it within a day. all he wants to see is your career flourish and for your bright smile to encourage the ones who are stuck in a limbo, just like how he was before you pulled him out from the abyss.

dazai ! runs your biggest fan account. countless glamorized edits and paragraphs that praise you as the ‘best singer in the world’. sometimes if you allow it, he uploads short videos recording your shared karaoke nights. your devotees can easily tell the different between your and his voices—one perfect and akin to orpheus, and the other screeching about suicide.

dazai ! infamously also doxes your haters on a separate and well hidden account. sadly, he’s one of the main contributors to why your fanbase has a reputation for being vicious and overly aggressive towards people who don’t like you. he thinks they deserve it though. you go through so much darkness, and negative comments don’t need to make you cry even more.

dazai ! keeps a shrine dedicated to you in the corner of the living room. merch, posters, vinyls and more are neatly arranged on shelves and small tables. not even a single speck of dust taints the sacred space. his wallet cries at how thin and malnourished it is, begging for even an ounce of yen, but his heart is full with pure adoration for you.

dazai ! sends akutagawa to your concerts when kunikida doesn’t let him go due to dozens of missing work assignments and orders. if he can’t go in person, he’ll watch from facetime and babble about you into the phone while akutagawa gets the perfect angle and view using rashomon. and when you shout out his name as your muse at the end of the performance, he melts into a pile of mushy lovesick goo.

dazai ! thinks his biggest achievement is being your muse. the thought that he’s the inspiration for some of your biggest songs and lyrics makes him want to be the best boyfriend he can be. he’s no demon prodigy, no suicidal maniac or womanizer. he’s just a heavenly muse destined to help steer you on the right track with his heart in your hands.

Tags:

@twst-om-lover, @sinfulthoughtsposts, @starrs20, @little-miss-chaoss, @secretlyagoblin, @broken-spirit101, @briarbabyxo

#bungou stray dogs #bungou gay dogs #aspiring writer #bsd x reader #chuunai #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd tag #bsd fluff #dazai osamu x reader #chuuya x reader #dazai x reader #dazai osamu #chuuya nakahara #bungou stray dogs chuuya #bungou stray dogs dazai #bungo stray dogs chuuya #bungo stray dogs #bungo stray dogs dazai

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kinopio-writes · 4 months

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A/N: Decided to answer these two in one go. Screenshotted, lol. 3rd POV and the reader is referred to as they/it like last time. Also, I’m gonna be honest with you, after the last Adam post, I started to find his relationship with Sera and Lute intriguing. They both make an appearance (separately).

I just found out. Apparently, Sera and Emily are sisters (just with huge age gaps)? Well, I never viewed them as actual mother and daughter, but I was leaning more towards motherly-figure Sera. Kept it vague.

Words: 1,404 (not including the bullet points)

Warnings: Swearing (surprisingly not as vulgar as pt.1)

———

More Adam w/ a Child!Reader

• to solidify my statement that Adam wouldn’t just give the child away to someone else—along with the points I said in the previous Adam post—is because he didn’t want to seem incapable and, God forbid, ask for help?

• uh-uh. No way

• also, I don’t really see their first word being “papa”

• because of Adam, the kid cursing as their first word seems pretty on-brand

• not to mention that I don’t think they were with many people other than Adam, Lute, possibly Sera, and maybe his friends, too

• if he even has any

• and this isn’t even slander (when Charlie said, haven’t you had a night of drinking with friends after a rough night, he neither confirmed nor denied it. Not exactly the most reliable proof, but I take whatever I get)

• so, yeah, they were stuck with Adam’s vocabulary, unfortunately

• but for the sake of it, I’ll do “papa” as their first word (“fafa”, actually. You’ll get it when you read it)

Also, uh, heavily focused on Adam. Again. I mean, you can’t really do much with a child!reader in regards to personality, so.

———

Adam sat comfortably on his chair outside his balcony, his hand carrying Adam Jr. while the other was mindlessly plucking at his wings’ loose feathers. He would let them fall onto the floor after collecting a pile of them on his lap, finding that to be the only source of entertainment he could do without his kid crying.

Before he was going to push his feathers off his lap, a gust of wind blew them off for him and they flew over the edge of his balcony. All of his previous feathers slipped through the railing’s gaps as well.

His hand lingered mid-air as he looked up to see Sera land next to him. “Holy shit.” He instantly became more animated, a grin forming on his face as he stood up. “Y’know, I keep forgetting that anyone can just waltz in here.”

“Good evening to you, too, Adam.”

He bit back from replying rudely, instead choosing to place his hand on his hip while he held Adam Jr. closer to him. “Yeah, whatever.”

Sera then went on to dramatically stare down at the scenery above the city of Heaven, hands folded in front of her as Adam waited for her to say something. He got impatient after a few seconds.

“What’s up your ass?”

She turned her head to face him and furrowed her brows. He only rolled his eyes, the corner of his mouth twitching downward into a grimace as he slightly turned his head away from the head seraphim. Her attention was instantly directed to the baby in his arms. “Do you mind if I hold it?”

Adam jerked back at the sudden ask. “Uh, weird request…but you do you.” When he didn’t attempt to move, Sera leaned down and took the sleeping child from his secured arms, standing back to her height as she observed their peaceful slumber.

Quite a surprise, frankly. She didn’t think Adam was capable of handling something so fragile as life for more than a day, let alone a whole year.

The feeling of a baby in her arms made her reminisce about the time when Emily was just as little.

“The concept of birth is astonishing…”

“ʼKay…?”

“Having a child is one of God’s greatest blessings...”

“Uh-huh.”

“You must be very proud…”

“Uh, yeah…sure…”

“It even has your wings.”

“Y’know, this is starting to feel a little one-sided right now.”

“What I’m trying to say is—” Sera seemed to have gotten out of her sentimental trance and narrowed her eyes at the man below her, “—you are fortunate to have this child, Adam.” She slowly returned the child to its father and watched as Adam held them back securely in his arms. “Children grow up faster than you think. Spend your time wisely. It’s not as if you’ll get any older yourself.”

“Mhm, yeah, got it.” The seraphim only hardened her gaze. “Okay! Fatherhood is the best thing ever, time is faster than the speed of light blah blah blah.” He swayed his head from side to side to emphasize each word, shoulders slumped. “Sheesh. Don’t have to be so sensitive over a kid that isn’t yours.”

Sera tightly shut her already parted lips and deeply breathed out through her nose, turning her back on the man and pushing the hair that strayed on her face. She didn’t say anything more and simply stared at the view on his balcony again.

Adam only raised a brow at her unusual behavior.

“So, not that I care or anything, or about your weird touchy-feely icky vibes, but you never told me why you’re here, so, if you could just tell me what I need to know and leave, that’ll be really great—”

“Adam.”

“Okay. Fine.” He held up a hand and lifted his shoulders. “Wallow in your melancholic—whatever this is. It totes ruined my vibes. I’mma dip.” Adam flapped his wings to get himself on the railings as the head seraphim watched him gently fly down with his child.

Sera speculated he would most likely come back after ten minutes. That would hopefully be enough time for her to have a composed mind to have a discussion with the first man.

———

“Say, ‘fuck’.”

He was told that it was smart to teach his kid how to start speaking at this age with pictures and shit. Adam, however, went with his method and sat Adam Jr. and himself on the carpet floor, repeatedly saying what he wanted it to say. He’d been like this for half an hour.

“Fafa!”

He blinked.

“That’s not what I fucking wanted you to say, but, close enough.” He shrugged. “Now say, ‘di—”

•••

It was only after Lute came over that he realized what his kid just said.

“Yeah, so my kid just called me his dad. First words,” Adam spoke with drawled-out speech, inspecting his lack of nails. “Pretty dope,” he accentuated the ‘p’ in ‘dope’

“That’s not what we were talking about, Sir.” Lute had her hands on the edge of the table as they both sat on the carpet floor.

“Uh, does it look like I care?” He had his kid on his lap, playing with it by holding its hands in his and making them punch thin air. “ʼSides, we still have a week to finish this shit.”

Lute only deadpanned at her leader going off-topic to talk about his kid but said nothing more, deciding it was best to let him run out of things to say so they could get some work done without interruption.

———

“Yeah, you little piece of shit, slash ʼem!” Adam’s maniacal and obnoxious laughter bounced around his living room space as Adam Jr. punctured the heads of hand-made figures of sinners with their fake angelic spear (he couldn’t get a real one, unfortunately. They’re only obtainable during the extermination).

Lute happened to walk in on the scene. Adam always left his balcony door open. His neighbors, despite being come-and-goers, continually complained about his loud guitar sequences. He always responded with something about how he was being generous and that they should be happy—heck, blessed that they were getting a free concert without having to pay.

He hasn’t had those arguments lately, though.

She observed him sitting on the cardboard-littered floor with his HolyPhone in hand, assumably recording his child slaughtering the wretched sinners.

He had the biggest smile she’d ever seen on his mask.

“Sir, what are you doing?”

“AH!” he released a guttural yell as he snapped his head over to the source of the voice. “Jeez, Lute—what does it look like I’m doing?”

The lieutenant immediately answered, “Playing with your offspring, Sir.”

“I’m not playing! I had tons of cardboard lying around from my fan mail, and throwing them all away’s a bother.” he defensively retorted. “And, ew, don’t call it offspring. It’s Adam Jr. now. Check it.” Adam clumsily messed with his phone, muttering curses until he found the video he was looking for in his endless album of blurry photos. He showed the screen to Lute, not realizing it wasn’t even playing. “This kid will grow up to be such a badass!”

“But it isn’t meant to be an exterminator, Sir.”

“Uh, so what?” He placed his hands on his hips.

Lute missed a beat when countering, “Sera won’t allow it.”

“Pftt, what? No.” Adam refuted with a wave of his hand. “She so would. I have the proof.” He lifted his phone and shook it for emphasis. “And it’s my extermination, so I do whatever the fuck I want.”

Lute turned her head away momentarily before perking back up. “When it grows up eventually, it’s a possibility.”

“Ah, what? I can’t wait that loooong,” he whined, slumping onto the floor. “Bummer. I mean, imagine a tiny cunt-born exorcist! How cool is that? The first in history!”

She nodded. “With it under your wing, I know that it can learn our ways just as quickly as we slaughter those wretched sinners.”

Adam tapped a finger on his chin, face scrunched in thought before he placed his hands on his hips as he kneeled on the floor. “Hmm, yeah.” He spread out his wings, too lazy to stand up on his own two feet. He then plucked Adam Jr. from the floor by their armpits, deciding to bring them along without much thought. “Let’s go pitch the idea to Sera. And let’s get takeout on the way.”

“Right beside you, Sir.”

#hazbin hotel x reader #adam x reader #adam x child!reader #child!reader #child reader #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel lute #hazbin hotel sera #kinopiowrites

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its-your-mind · 2 years

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“oh clearly jon feels no emotions and is in complete control of himself at all times. this man is a logic machine.”

did we??? listen to the same podcast?????? this man feels first, thinks later. there is a strong emotion? get ready for jonathan jarchivist sims to act on it with little-to-no second thoughts. rational thinking who. we throw ourselves full force at the first thought that comes into our head. like, we are talking about the man who:

busted into the office of a guy he hadn’t talked to more than twice since he woke up from a six month coma, sincerely offering to gouge out his eyes and run away with him, and was Absolutely Gobsmacked when he was refused

was prefectly ready to let a face-stealing monster live… right up until it reminded him that it had killed his friend without him realizing (that “…what did you say” is one of the lines that gives me GOOSEBUMPS every time)

dove headfirst into a pile of evil sentient worms to grab a tape recorder bc he was so determined to not die as aNOTHER GODDAMN MYSTERY

let his survivor’s guilt from when he was eight drive the major decisions he made for the rest of his life

threw himself into a fear dimension of evil loneliness to save the man he loved (who had refused to speak to him for months) at the probable expense of himself who knows

had so much MALICE in his voice when he killed peter lukas like damn girl you do not get that emotional when you’re just killing someone bc they’re evil or whatever. there was Hatred there. go off queen.

literally was willing to sacrifice an entire WORLD so that no one would ever f e e l what he had to feel when jonah voicesnatched him

LITERALLY speedran a love story in like six weeks in scotland. this man was SO READY to be in love it’s ridiculous. so was martin. I love them sm

heard his predecessor was dead

came to the conclusion that he was next

what should we do with this?

oh I know

stalk every one of my coworkers bc clearly one of them is out to get me

committed himself to living in the archives forever bc he didn’t want to put georgie or “god forbid the admiral” in danger (has his priorities STRAIGHT he does)

oh annabelle caine has martin? and an artifact that completely knocks me on my ass and takes away all my powers? off to hilltop road we go come on basira we have spider ass to kick

threw himself into a coffin to save a woman who LITERALLY was ABOUT TO KILL HIM bc he just wanted to HELP and everyone around him was HURTING SO MUCH

was insulted when a statement giver called the institute stupid and immediately discarded all professionalism and clapped back by calling her wildly successful youtube series dumb

also immediately discarded all professionalism when disgusted by a teeth apple “we do NOT want it.” like damn bro this traumatized doctor brought this bone apple teeth proof in for you and you are too grossed out to grin and bear it

was slightly annoyed by the fact that martin was not the Ideal Assistant. Offhandedly mentioned on an official recording that he wanted an evil flesh witch to slowly kill his literal employee by a series of freak accidents that resulted in the loss of one body part at a time. this man has no chill whatsoever.

took so much satisfaction in killing jonah magnus. like jonah told him not to be dramatic and jon PROMPTLY started monologuing while stabbing douchard directly in the chest.

“I don’t want to die”

“Neither did they.” FUCK YES QUEEN GO OFF GET HIS SMARMY VICTORIAN ASS

sounded so SMUG when he told the eye he was gonna go apologize to his boyfriend. like yeah stupid all-powerful fear god I have a BOYfriend and I LOVE him suck on THAT

remember when he decided to doom his whole world bc he wanted to stop anyone else from feeling like he did? yeah that plan went out the window fuckin imMEDIATely as soon as his beloved martin walked into the room. oh, he’s in the world I’m going to be dooming? well fuck didn’t consider that part. welp guess he’s just gonna have to stab me. and then we will hold each other and declare our love and kiss and hope to still be alive and together somehow as the world collapses around us. our love didn’t save us but it was here and that mattered. okay list cancelled I’m gonna go curl up in a ball for a little bit. ty for your time.

#jonathan sims #the archivist #tma #tma spoilers #the magnus archives #jonmartin #listen martin got a list of unhinged actions #now jon gets his own list of no thoughts head empty only vibes #balanced #as all things should be

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wittysuns · 6 months

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𝓲. 𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗹𝗲 𝗯𝗼𝘆 | Aegon II Targaryen

which in Aegon II Targaryen runaway from King’s Landing with his dragon and founds love on the way.

masterlist ✨

“My sweet Leo, you must take it easy on the eating.” Eva says to her 5-year-old son who was practically eating fast.

The little boy wanted to go play outside with his ‘friend’ and wait for his father to return home. Eva didn’t know how to tell her son that his father wasn’t coming back because he had left her for another woman who was a few years older than her. Just like she pretends to her son imagine a friend does exist. His father has been fighting in the war and doesn’t when he is coming back.

“Mama! I want to go outside and play! Want to play with my friend.” Leo replies to his mother with a cute tone of his voice.

Eva sighs softly and walks back to the pot of chicken soup she made. She grabbed a bowl of soup went back to the table of two and sat down.

Living with her 5-year-old son was stressful for her. Eva had to leave her son home alone while she went out selling her home loaves of bread. She couldn’t afford a kind person to take care of her child because she needed to have a lot of money to play with them.

“All done!” Leo rushed out of his seat almost falling. Sometimes it scared her when he did that.

“Leo be careful.” Eva’s motherly voice told her child. “And don’t talk to strangers.” She reportedly told her son.

“Okay, mama!”

Whenever her child left she would close her eyes and pray to god that nothing bad would happen to her son.

Leo opens the door leaving it wide open for his mother could hear or see him. Eva knew he would come back whenever she called his name.

The little boy ran around the pile of huge grass that was almost as tall as him. This was his favorite place to run around and it was also right in front of his home. He was playing around with his ‘friends’ and having a good time with them. Play all those games that kid plays with their friends.

A huge crack came from the forest. He makes Leo a curious child and slowly walks over to the forest. He looks back at his home but he knows his way back home because he has been into the forest before.

One of his mother’s strict rules is not to go to the forest because that is where danger usually happens. He turns back to the forest and walks into the forest that his mother forbids him to enter.

He carefully watched every surrounding he walked on and made sure no dangerous animal could attack him. Until he heard a shriek scaring him and regretting coming to the forest but he needed to know.

Leo follows the path where he hears the shriek coming from. He walks past multiple big trees when he stops his track after finding a large beast that is bigger than his home. It had gleaming gold scales and pale pink wing membranes. His eyes widened when he saw an unconscious person lying on the ground.

The large beast was nudging the person as if he was trying to wake them up. He steps a bit forward when he triggers the beast after stepping on a branch. The golden beast snapped his head and saw a little boy.

He just stared at the golden beast not knowing what to do in this moment. The beast only looked at the boy and huffed at the boy scaring him half to death. It went back on shaking the person that was still there.

Then the little boy’s mind clicked. It was probably the owner of his beast. Maybe he needs help.

“Does your owner need help?” Leo thundered as he could to the beast. It turns its head to him again and then growls out to the little boy getting answers.

“I can help you—well my mama can help, she does a great job!” The boy tells the beast.

This time the beast didn’t make any sound but grabbed the unconscious person off the ground by his large teething mouth and got on his four feet. Leo didn’t know how big the beast was and the beast was big all right.

Leo made sure the beast was ready to follow him. It looked like he was all ready to follow him back home. The little boy started walking back home with the beast and wondering how his mother would react. As he and the beast are walking back, the boy starts talking to the beast all about his mother and how he had the best mother in the world.

#aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen #aegon x reader #aegon x oc #aegon targaryen smut #aegon the second #hotd aegon #aegon ii fic #aegon ii targaryen fanfiction #aegon ii targaryen love story #tom glynn carney #HOTD #house of the dragon

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