#i put them both in a blender and shake shake shake | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

minwonsgirl · 10 months ago

Text

cupcakes and kisses.

— mingyu x gn!reader

— fluff without plot and soooo self indulgent it's crazy

— contents : established relationship, kissing, sexual tension, kissing, suggestive content, kissing, baking, did I mention kissing

"Thank you for your purchase I hope you have a good night!" the cashier wishes while giving you your pack of rainbow sprinkles.

you smiled at her and walked out into the streets so that you could make yourself back home. the sun was just setting in, and people every where were rushing back. you were in no hurry though, your apartment was just down the block and your boyfriend was still busy whipping up some vanilla frosting.

thats why you came out in the first place, he was making cupcakes for movie night, but ran out of sprinkles for the funfetti frosting. and you, being his little minion helper, volunteered to get him some.

you were an amazing cook when it came to breakfast or brunch, but baking on the other hand, hah. baking was completely out of your expertise.

you once tried to make cookies, but they neither spread nor softened and came out as rocks. they were so inedible that even the ants wouldn't touch them. you remember getting rid of them by chucking them at your brother whenever he annoyed you.

when you finally reach your apartment, your boyfriend calls put your name, and you quickly change into your home slippers and run towards him.

"I'm here I'm here" you said, sprinting towards him with a large smile on your face. mingyu smiles back at you but doesn’t stop his mixer-blender-thing from working, "did you get the sprinkles?" he asked, his head tilting to the side in a very cute manner.

you raise the pack of sprinkles and wiggle it a little to show off your excitement. mingyu lifts one of his hands up, like a gate, and you immediately step inbetween them, successfully trapping yourself in his arms.

he turns the mixer-blender-thing off and plops his head on your shoulder, watching you tear off the packet with your teeth and pour a generous amount of sprinkles in the bowl.

mingyu had a habit. his friends would always tease him about it, but honestly he found it quite cute. It was not his fault he found everything you did so endearing that he just had to stare at you as if you were hanging the stars on the sky.

it was not his fault you were so pretty to look at, with your perfect lips and perfect eyes. or the way you looked the best when you were busy. it wasn't his fault.

you found that staring habit of his cute too. but that's probably because you did the exact same thing. but were you really to blame when everything mingyu did was absolutely perfect. especially when he baked, his concentration and attention to detail always made you proud. so it most definitely wasn't you fault either.

when you were done pouring out your sprinkles, you hummed contently and waited for him to start the blender again. but he doesn't move. you look up at him with a raised eyebrow, "something wrong, babe?" you asked, worry flashing in your eyes.

you expected him to come out of his trance, but he just shakes his head side to side, with the same look in his eyes. then he thinks for a moment before his lips moved into a tiny smile and he nods his head, "yes" he said, and you could practically see the gears turning in his head.

mingyu let's go of the hand blender and grabs your waist to turn you around to face him. you give him a curious look and he just winks at you. then he turns you both around and picks you up on the kitchen island behind him.

he buries his head in your neck and trails sweet kisses all the way up to your ear. you wrap one hand around his waist and the other around his neck, your fingers playing with his hair, and you giggled whenever his kisses would tickle you.

this was normal, mingyu always kissed you every chance he got. but he always bothered to make up a stupid excuse before it, which is exactly what lead you to ask, "why so touchy, baby?"

"need to kiss my pretty baby" he said casually, as if he did this every day (he did). you laughed and let him place strategic kisses in all the right places. your forehead, the space between eyebrows, both your cheeks, and every single mole on your face.

when he finally reached your lips, you cup his cheeks. he leaned in to ever so slightly brush your lips, he releases a breath and pulls away kissing the corner of you mouth instead, you feel your heart grip itself.

he pulls away and smirks when he sees the shiver, he caused, go down your spine. "so needy for my kisses, yeah?" he asked, a smug grin taking over his smile.

you hadn't realised that the tension had caused your hands to slips down to his chest and hold his favorite jumper in a fist. you pulled him closer towards you, "need you to kiss me gyu, please" you begged.

mingyu could never deny you, and he knew that you knew that and used it against him very often, but he still chuckles at your tactics and leans in you press his lips against your in a big fat kiss.

you wrap your legs around his waist and pull yourself closer towards the edge of the counter so that you could feel him better. you wouldn't let his pulls away from you that easily again.

mingyu smiles into the kiss when he feel your clutch on his jumper. he loved teasing you, but he loved this more. the way your possessiveness would peek out and you would be less reluctant to let him go.

mingyu lays his hands flats against the counter so that he could kiss you better, and feel you closer. you hands were crossed around his neck.

his mouth moved in perfect sync with yours and you were sure you could die like this, with him kissing you absolutely senseless.

he pulls away from you for a second and look down at your eyes, you were both panting. he tucks a piece of hair behind your ear and leans back in— DING.

both of your heads turn towards the little potato shaped timer kept above the oven. "aw the cupcakes are done" mingyu said sadly, his lips forming a small pout. you rolled you eyes and pushed his hands off you. you cupped his cheeks and turned his head to look at you. "so why are you pouting?" you asked, laughing softly at his cute little sad face.

"wanna kiss you a little longer" he said, speaking in pout while trying to tuck himself back in between your legs. you made sure to keep them shut.

you press a small kiss on his cheek, "we'll kiss later I promise. for now lets finish those cupcakes, yeah? " you said while jumping off the counter and walking towards the oven to take out the cupcakes. you make sure to grab mingyu's hand on the way so that he would follow you.

mingyu takes the opportunity hug you from behind and follow you like a dumb puppy. he breaths in your hair and smiles againt your neck, "I love the way you smell" he said.

you snorted, "that's not creepy at all."

"hey I'm not creepy I just liked the way the love of my life smells okay?" he pouts again, this time angrily.

you laughed again and turned around in his arms to face him. "thank you baby" you said sincerely, then got on your tippy toes to kiss him, "I love you too" you said.

mingyu felt the butterflies in his stomach go crazy. he was pretty sure the cupcakes would burn if he didn't turn off the oven soon, but who cares? he was kissing the smartest, the most beautiful person alive. for him, it really was you who hung the stars in the sky.

937 notes · View notes

invincibledc · 8 months ago

Note

What if the superson trio swapped bodys like superman, batman and stargirl did in justice league action?

“Swapped bodies”

Summary: swapping bodies was the worst thing ever to happen to the future trinity of heroes.

Pair: Superson trio

“Ugh! Catch him Robin!” Wonderboy yells, flying with superboy who trying to reach Mr Mxyzptlk who keeps swerving in the air. Robin clicks his tongue in distaste at the impatient Amazon. “What do you think I’m doing you brute.” Robin sasses as he keeps his eyes on the imp. He was on a roof, readying his grapple before Y/N spotted him. Y/N picked Robin up who “tt” at the male. Mr Mxyzptlk sticks his tongue out at the ten year olds. Superboy frowns, “Hey. That’s not nice dude.” Mr Mxyzptlk smirks. “If you think that’s not nice, then get a load of this!”

The imp randomly has a bender in front of the children, the flying boys stop. You still held Robin in your arms who was ready to aim his grapple right there. But sadly the imp had already put his action into phase as the souls of you and the supersons got sucked in the blender. Mr Mxyzptlk laughed his head off, seeing the ten year old boys scream and get their souls swapped. As the imp poofs away, laughing. The souls enter their not rightful place.

Y/N opened his eyes to see he was still flying, but turned his head to see that his body was holding Damian. Or was it Damian? “What the?!” Jon yells looking at the Amazon male. They had swapped bodies. And Damian doesn’t know how to fly, making him fall with a yell with Jon still in his arms. “Damnit!” Y/N yells, he immediately swooped down and held the two boys by their waist. “I hate this.” “Me too Prince.”

At the bat cave, Y/N were in Jon’s body, Jon was in Damian’s body, and Damian was in his body. Y/N immediately grabbed onto his body. Shaking the boy, “get out of my body Damian!” Y/N yelled. He was angry, confused, and annoyed. His eyes turned red, indicating heat vision that’s about to burst. Damian quickly pushed your head aside, the laser shooting off and damaging something. Jon awkwardly stood there, he felt happy he couldn’t hear things far away or even see through things accidentally. But still, he couldn’t do anything at the moment as the two super strong boys argue.

“If you were a little bit more patient, we would’ve succeeded in this mission!” Damian yells in Y/N’s body. Y/N gritted his teeth, pushing Damian from him. “Right, but you took your sweet time didn’t you Damian!” Y/N yells. Damian flew across the cave, before immediately tackling Y/N. Jon’s eyes widen, he tried to move towards the two angry boys. But with how they both were pulling hair and using their excessive strength. Jon said “nope, fuck this” and went to find the adults.

As y/n and Damian were tumbling around and wrestling. Jon came back with Batman and Superman. “Holy!—” Clark immediately tears the boys apart from each other. Y/N was still feral along with Damian. Trying to claw at each other. “Boys!” Superman yells out. The two stopped, looking at the kryptonian. “What is going on?” Jon, aka who’s in Damian’s body start to explain the situation that had happened.

“We sneaked out to do our own mission for this patrol but we caught this weird little goblin looking dude, can I say he was rude because he stuck his tongue at me and—”

“JON! Get on with it man!” Y/N yelled out impatiently.

“Oh right! Okay but like then he popped this blender out and switched our souls so now I’m in Damian’s body, damian’s is in Y/N’s body and Y/N is in mine and they started to fight so I got you guys here to se if yall can fix this.” Jon says, finishing in one blow. Clark and Bruce looked at each other and sigh.

What will they do with these three.

Time passed with the trio as Bruce went to contact someone. Firestorm soon walked in, smiling as he held Mr Mxyzptlk like a stray cat. The imp was nervously chuckling. “Ah Pooh, guess my fun is over.” Batman leaned his face at the imp. “Fix them.” Batman points to Jon who stands there with Superman holding two angry boys. Glaring at the imp, eyes filled with rage and distaste. Firestorm smirked, “or else professor would like a little talk with you.” Mr Mxyzptlk shudders again the thought of the professor in his head. “Fine! Here kids.”

“Kltpzyxm” the imp poofs away, not wanting to deal with the professor like last time. The souls of the boys went back to place. Jon smiled seeing his hands, Damian scoffed meanwhile Y/N rolled his eyes but smiled. “Awesome, we’re back to our bodies. You can put me down man.” Clark frowned. “Can’t do that sport.” The boys raised a brow as Jon looked at his father. Batman walked up to the trio. “You snuck out to do your own mission. You failed and got yourself in trouble. You are all grounded,” Brufe then points to the Amazon boy. “And I’ll be contacting your mother Y/N.” Y/N’s eyes widened, Jon frowns. And Damian scoffs.

“AH WHAT?!”

493 notes · View notes

little-miss-dilf-lover · 9 days ago

Text

TABLE SIDE ENTERTAINMENT.

bucky barnes x fem!reader

WORD COUNT. 1067 SUMMARY. your anniversary dinner takes a slight turn when bucky’s team begin to bicker despite best behaviour being asked of them. [fluff] NOTE. tower fic resurgence YEAAA!

⎯ ☆ ⎯

Things were different this year, though not by choice. Rather a small series of events that lead to an unforeseen change. Originally, your plan was to cook for your anniversary dinner like either of you normally would when the date came. You would each alternate between your apartments, taking turns hosting and cooking for the other.

Two years ago, it was your apartment, the year after, Bucky’s, ultimately meaning this year was yours again. But since your last anniversary hosting, you have taken a roommate, the cost far too much for one person alone in New York. And quite similarly, Bucky was in the same boat as you, living with, not one, but five other roommates now.

And while it was your turn to cook, you were unable to host in your apartment: your roommate planning a get together with friends before even checking with you. Consequently, meaning things had to be rearranged.

You sit at the dining table, Bucky at the head beside you as you both tentatively poke your forks into your candlelit dinner. It wasn’t quite what you pictured for your third anniversary.

Despite Bucky having asked for some privacy from his team, they gave him literally anything but. All of them residing in the communal areas just so they could poke their noses into your date.

Off to the side, Yelena and Ava sit on the sofas, stuck in faux conversation as they clean their guns — pretending to occupy themselves, essentially, making themselves look busy. Beside the kitchen counter, John and Bob stand, their attention earnestly caught by a fancy, new, gimmicky kitchen appliance. And how could you forget Alexei, his loud, booming voice making it impossible to lose track of his whereabouts.

“Where’s mine?” you follow the direction of Alexei’s question and notice him looking around the kitchen disapprovingly, hands theatrical as they lift the lids off the pots and pans.

You hear John and Bob bicker ahead of you, a growing miscommunication becoming all the more evident.

“Wheres the ice cream?”

“Why would there be ice cream, Bobby?” Walker replies, brows scrunching together as he looks at Bob like he’s an idiot.

“You said you were making a shake,” Bob repeats.

“Exactly.”

“You put ice cream in a milkshake, why is there no ice cream?”

“Protein shake, Bobby,” he clarifies, gesturing to an array of supplements beside the blender. “Just try it,” John offers.

“You make shakes?” Alexei interrupts, laughing like it was an attempt to mock them. “Crack egg in mouth. Be a man.”

“Ignore him,” John steps in front of the interruption, pushing him aside.

“What flavour is it?”

“It doesn’t matter what flavour it is, just try it.”

“I don’t think I’ll like it.”

“See,” Alexei continues. He recaptures everyone's attention and cracks an egg directly into his mouth. He swallows it hesitantly and lifts his arms, showing off his muscles. “Look how strong.”

You hide an amused smile behind your glass, finding humour in their squabbling. Though Bucky looks far from pleased, he’s clearly rather embarrassed from their failure to fulfil their promise of being good. Who needs dinner and a show when you have a group of enhanced individuals as your entertainment?

“That’s not how you do it, dad,” Yelena joins in, a subtle smirk on her face as she nudges Ava’s side. “You have to eat the shell too.”

“That’s not true,” Alexei exclaims and looks around the group for assurance. “You make joke, Lena. Very funny, HA HA!”

“It is,” Ava adds.

John looks over to the girls and they nod at him, trying to get him to keep it going. Though he needs no convincing, he was still feeling wounded by the emasculation. And so reaches for the egg carton and pulls out another, smugly dropping it into Alexei’s open hand.

“Try it again,” he nods like it was an act of encouragement and steps aside. “Bucky does it. You want to be like the Winter Soldier, don’t you?”

“Two is a lot, no?” Alexei protests and looks over to Bucky, using him for guidance.

Bucky doesn’t give enough of a response, though it still holds weight: a simple, short shake of the head as if it was a signal to let him know he was being used as the butt of another joke. He enjoys humour, but not at the sake of others. And sure, yes, Alexei probably deserves it, but it was date night and things were steering way beyond proportion. It needed reigning back in, massively.

“You make fool of me,” Alexei turns to look between the members of the group, an accusatory finger waving at them. “That’s hurtful.”

“Nice one, Buck,” Walker exclaims, irritation evident.

“It was mean,” Bob adds, coming to his defence.

John’s brows pinch together like he’s displeased. “It’s a joke, Bobby.”

“Woah,” Yelena interjects. “You don’t need to shout at him.”

The rest of the group begins to chip in with their own pieces and eventually it turns into indecipherable squabble — all of them trying to speak over the other with their own very important thing to say. You turn to look at Bucky, expecting him to be a puddle of embarrassment and aggravation, though he’s anything but. Instead he’s smiling, a rather sly grin forming as it all descends into chaos around him.

With the group's attention occupied on being heard, Bucky slips his hand into yours and gestures to the stairs with a short nod of the head. He picks up the glasses from the table with his free hand while you grab the bottle of wine, with yours holding the neck tight as your footsteps begin to pick up — trying to keep up with his brisk, haste movement.

The noise from his team’s arguing slowly dwindles down the further distance you make and you each pause, reaching the door of his bedroom.

“Did you know that would happen?” you ask, a smile forming that matched his cheeky one downstairs.

He nods and that same grin resurfaces. He lets go of your hand and reaches for the handle, lingering in place for a moment before he turns to look at you.

“Happy Anniversary, honey,” he says now that it’s just you two, words gentle and earnest.

You bring a hand to his cheek, thumb swiping over it softly as you lean in, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Happy three years, my love.”

⎯ ☆ ⎯

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fluff #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader

172 notes · View notes

chai-berries · 16 days ago

Text

dreams do come true / patri guijarro

a dream is a wish your heart makes. or a wish you make for your humble and talented girlfriend / wc: 1492

She can hear you before she sees you, down the hallway and into the living room, your voice traveling through the apartment, getting louder as you walk to find her.

“Patriii, como se dice “psychic” or whatever Raven Baxter was in “That’s So Raven” in Español, because I need to tell you about the dream I just had! Where are you?”

“In the kitchen!”

Patri’s at the blender, putting together a protein shake to end all protein shakes when you come into the room. You’re still in your sleep clothes while Patri is already in her training joggers, but she thinks you look so sweet, rumpled and warm from sleeping in her bed. However this morning, instead of sleep, you have excitement in your eyes. You head right over to her and wrap your arms around her waist, making Patri laugh.

“Hola, amor. Did you sleep well?”

“Yes,” you say into her shoulders. You stay attached to your girlfriend as she pours the shake into her travel cup and even when she shifts to rinse the blender in the sink. When you still don’t let go of her, she twists her body in your arms. You hum subconsciously when she wraps her arms around you, pressing a kiss onto your temple.

“Sí? And what was your dream you were screaming about?” she asks. You finally let her go when her question is processed in your brain. Your eyes light up again.

“Oh yeah. I had a dream you won the Ballon D’or!”

Patri scoffs.

“Hey! Don’t scoff! Everyone is talking about it. Even at my job, I overhear your name. This could be your year!”

“To win the Ballon D’or?”

“No, to fly to the moon.” You deadpan.

“Sooo funny.”

“You were nominated last year. And you’re gonna win this year. What - Don’t - You - Get?” you simultaneously tap the side of her head to get the point really across.

Patri shrugs. “I’m just being realistic. There’s a lot great players this year —“

“Including you.”

“Including me, sí, but I don’t want to get ahead of myself.”

You roll your eyes at her humble argument.

“Whatever, I’ll tell Alexia and Aitana about how you are talking and they will straighten you out.”

The two older girls do in fact scold Patri for being negative on herself during training later in the day, you having followed through with your threat.

Months later, you go to the awards as Patri’s plus one. Wearing an extremely silky suit that Patri adored on you, only three buttons and a low cut in the front. Patri’s tailored suit fit her so well you actually bit your fist when she showed off her look to you at your apartment. Patri made sure to wear your favorite perfume of hers and you made sure to thank her immensely in the car ride to the venue.

You follow after Patri as she goes through all the steps as one of the nominees. Carpet pictures with the other girls, the show runners, then she takes a few with the other Barcelona players, followed by the Spanish ones. You shadow her with Olga and the other partners, just off to the side of the cameras but in sight of each other.

After all the formal pictures were taken, Patri gestures towards you, wanting to take a picture with just both of you. You try not to show your nerves in front of the cameras as you walk over to her. You couldn’t see any of the people behind them, the lights creating a blinding barrier.

Patri feels your body tense up when she wraps her arm around you.

“Mi Vida,” she whispers. “It’s okay. breathe for me, please.” You follow her instructions and relax enough to look normal for the cameras and crowd. Olga and alexia are getting photographed together next to you and Olga reaches out to briefly squeeze your hand in comfort once you're done. Patri takes a hold of your other, using it to guide you into the auditorium. You find safety in the other Spanish and Barcelona girls again. As everyone settles into seats, you squeeze Patri’s hand in thanks when she lets you go into the aisle first.

The ceremony flows through all the scripts that award ceremonies always do and soon people in clean black attire comes up and asks all the nominees to sit near the front of the stage.

You press a quick good luck kiss to Patri’s lips and sit back down next to the other nominees’ plus ones. Olga grabs your hand and squeezes it. You don’t even realize that you’re following Patri down to the front of the stage with your eyes until Olga squeezes your hand again.

“Vida, you are more nervous about this than Patri is!” she whispers loudly. You and those nearby laugh because it’s true. Ever since the nominations were announced, you had been so sure that she would win because you had a dream about it. It may seem ridiculously to an outsider but to you, it was like a manifestation. You were so proud of Patri and you wanted everyone to know it. You even posted an Instagram pic of you wearing your Patri shirt, with a link to the official Ballon D’or website treated like a cited source.

You don’t have to grip onto Olga’s hand in anticipation for very long. The Ballon D’or montage is playing on the big screen. You see so many familiar faces flashing by. But you had a physical reaction when Patri’s highlights came on.

The presenters, with bright smiles on their faces, went through the list of nominees. You waited impatiently for the end.

“And the winner of the Ballon D’or is…… Patricia Guijarro Gutierrez.”

You’re up clapping before they finish speaking, everyone around you are also up, giving Patri a standing ovation as she climbs the steps and accepts the Ballon trophy. The presenters lead her to the microphone so she can be heard.

“Uh, hello, everyone… I’m going to be honest, I did not believe that I would win this tonight. All my fellow nominees are some of the greatest football players in the world and to even be considered alongside them is an honor. I don’t want to bore you with a big speech, so I’ll go to my Thanks. Thank you to my teams. Being able to play alongside you as a career is more than a dream. You all teach me in so many different ways. Thank you to my friends and family. For putting up with my football obsession all these years. Sorry, not sorry. A special thanks to my partner, because I wouldn’t be here without your support. And I mean that both in general and on this stage. Dreams do come true… Finally, thank you to the fans, to the supporters. To the people who come to the games, watch them at home, and everyone inbetween. We play for ourselves and for you.” Patri finishes. She picks up the trophy and holds it up higher, then speaks again into the microphone. “Thank you. Thank you from my heart, immensely.” She steps back and the presenters help her leave the stage while the crowd is clapping for her again.

You’re not crying but you are supporting goosebumps on your arms from Patri’s speech. It was perfect and so her. Her line about your dream made you giddy. What a subtle line that only a few would understand.

Patri and the other nominees eventually make it back to your original seats. Everyone congratulates Patri on the way back. When Patri stays standing while the others sit, you raise an eye brow in question.

She gestures you to come to her. “Vida, come with me. I still have a few things to do. But I want you there with me.” You hurry to make sure you didn’t drop anything while sitting, side stepping until you’re out of the row. Patri takes your hand. You use your other to squeeze her bicep.

“I am so proud of you! I cannot explain it in any language, so you’re going to have to trust me,” you tell her.

She smiles so sweetly at you. “Thank you, mi Vida.”

She leads you out of the auditorium into the foyer. Right outside are all the media outlets and photographers waiting for Patri to show her Ballon D’or to them.

You kiss the side of her mouth, now very aware of the cameras around you. She pulls you closer to her body and grins at you. You smile back.

Suddenly your remember the line in her speech. “Dreams do come true, eh? Finally believe that I’m a psychic?” You ask.

Patri hums, contemplating. “You might need more proof for the psychic powers but you were definitely right about it.” She wraps her arm over your shoulder.

“You know what? I’ll take it.”

a/n: MY 5TH PATRI FIC!!!! HIIIII GUYS!!!! i love these two so much!!! if anyone wants to hear more about patri and vida lemme know! i have headcanons 👉👈

shoutout to the anon who requested this <3 i love you! thanks for the idea 💗 💗 💗

the rest of my patri x vida fics are here

#patri guijarro x reader #mi sol <3 #rpf x reader #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso request #patri guijarro imagine #patri x reader #el sol y el amor de su vida

118 notes · View notes

pboogerswbb · 6 months ago

Text

SO IT GOES - prologue

Paige Bueckers x oc Warnings: language, none Wordcount: 5.6K A/N: LILA IS BACK with a new series. this is the prologue, purely here to give people an insight to our oc Izara (who i already love btw), so not as much paige here, but she will make a much bigger entrance come first chapter of the series. again, ty so much for everyone who hyped this up based solely on the synopsis i wrote and ty for your support! i am so excited for this series you guys don't even know!! this one will be a looooong one so buckle up

Passport? Check. Silk pillowcase? Check. Laptop? Check.

The list seemed to go on and on, filling out three sheets of paper, both front and back. Some people called it excessive but to me it was necessary. It was better to be over prepared than leave things up to chance. I had been making lists all my life, I wasn’t about to stop now. They have worked for me so far.

Flipping through the maroon moleskine notepad in my hands, my green eyes skim over one page after another - grocery list, changes I must make to my skincare routine, presents to buy next Christmas, wedding registry. There’s a sting in my chest as I stop, my french manicured hand brushing over the soft paper: Vitamix blender, Ginori 1735 cake plate, Baccarat candlestick set.

Inhale, exhale. The pain won’t relinquish. I bring my hand to the soft cotton of my turtleneck, rubbing soothing circles on my chest just like my mum used to when I was little.

“There you go Izara, don’t you feel better? It’s a magic trick, it takes the sadness away.”

The black suitcase is laid out on the floor in front of me, clothes folded neatly in their own nooks. I keep rubbing and rubbing but the sadness won’t go away. So I stop, my fingers carefully flipping a few pages forward.

Move to The US

Pros

Good career move?

New experiences

Cons

Leaving my family and friends

Boss talked about promotion for me in the next year

Leaving London

Visa hassle

Expenses

Wedding delayed off

Leaving Jasper (pro?)

My memories of the day resurface, the way I was locked in my car, dreading walking inside where my husband-to-be was expecting me. I had spent all day trying on wedding dresses near Soho, my mom and her sister fawning over Jasper the entire day. To everyone he was the perfect man, charming, nurturing and protective. But they didn’t know half of what I put up with. All day I wanted to scream, to throw a fit, tell everyone that they don’t know anything about my perfect fiancé. But instead I kept my mouth shut, and waited till I got into my car to cry. I didn’t like being vulnerable, for my relatives to see me weak. I had told no one about the conflicting feelings inside me, or the way I had applied for an open position to be a social media producer for the Dallas Wings. That very same morning the position had been offered to me.

So I sat in my car with my trusty lists, as usual. The moment I wasn’t sure whether to write leaving Jasper into the pros or the cons, I knew I had to go. It had been gnawing at my subconscious, making me sick to my stomach. Even according to the list this decision made absolutely no sense. But in my gut I knew had to go - desperately so.

“Izzie, are you done yet? We have to leave soon.”

My brother bursts into the room, watching the way I had undone all the packing that I had naturally finished a week prior. Clothes were all over my childhood bedroom, piles of them standing neatly. After calling off the wedding with Jasper I had decided to move back home, not wanting to stay with him and his temper under the same roof.

“What the hell have you done here?” He chuckles, shaking his head as I stand in the middle of the bedroom, notebook in hand, staring at the half empty suitcase.

“I think I’ve gone crazy Kiran,” I admit with a sigh. Two weeks ago when I accepted the job I had been so sure - now I wasn’t. This was insane, mad, completely, utterly unlike me. To get up and move, to disappoint my parents, to disappoint everyone. I just couldn’t stand it anymore, my life here. Every year I grew older I became more and more unsure. Now at 25 I felt like a complete fool, not knowing anything except this wasn’t the life I wanted. Something had to change - I had to change.

My younger brother walks over, wrapping a hand around my shoulder.

“Yes you have.”

I scoff and push him off. “That’s not helpful!”

He chuckles and begins to pack for me, just as neatly as I had done earlier. Guess being high-strung ran in the family.

“It is mad. But that doesn’t mean it’s not the right thing to do,” my brother mumbles, neatly folding my black cashmere sweater. “I think it’s good Iz, no matter what mum and dad are saying. Don’t mind them. They’ll come around.”

“I wasn’t raised not to mind them,” I chuckle, looking out the window, ours just one of many of the semi-detached houses extending along the road I grew up on. The cherry trees had just bloomed, pale pink blossoms covering the branches, decorating the pavement.

“Funny that, neither was I,” Kiran laughs and finally zips up my suitcase, picking it up and preparing to carry it to the car. “You got everything? Passport? Wallet? Documents?”

I nod with a smile. Even if we didn’t look almost exactly the same (though, we certainly did), it was impossible not to pick up on the family resemblance.

“I have everything.”

The drive to Heathrow Airport is quiet. Truthfully, I was far too nervous to speak. I could feel my stomach twisting uncomfortably, a nauseating weight on my chest. I watch as we pass the streets of London, the only streets I had ever known. We pass the red double-decker buses, the abandoned phone boxes, eventually making our way onto the highway.

London is cruel, relentless to its residents, yet simultaneously captivating and thrilling. I had travelled enough to know there was no place like it. Nowhere else I could hop on the Northern Line in the bohemian, eclectic Camden, switch tubes and step out to Canary Wharf, where skyscrapers stand tall above you and the streets are buzzing with men in suits, just in 40 minutes or so. The diversity of the city, the way it could feel like a large metropolis as much as a small charming town all at once, depending on where you were. I loved this city, I always would. But it was time for me to move on at least for now. I wasn’t getting what I wanted, not that I knew what that was in the first place.

“Can’t believe my sister’s gonna be working for the league,” Kiran interrupts the silence. “When you meet Bronny you must tell him hi.”

I let out a laugh, turning to look at him. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s happening anywhere else except your delusions.”

“Hey, you never know!” He scoffs as we pull up to terminal 3, the butterflies growing deep in my abdomen.

“You’re such a guy,” I roll my eyes. “I’m working for the WNBA and all you want is to say hi to Lebron James.”

“Well who else is there, Steph?”

In reality, my brother loved basketball, he was the sole reason I knew the first thing about the sport. But he loved pushing my buttons more - and nothing pushed my buttons further than women being underestimated by men.

“A’ja, Stewie, Sabrina, Jewell? Arike plays for the Wings!”

“Never heard of any of them.”

I smack him on the shoulder as he’s parking the car, making him yelp. He was joking of course, but I wasn’t in the mood. Some would argue I was rarely in the mood to joke around but it’s just how I am. High-strung, intense. It was just me, I couldn’t help it. You know how some people have that spark to them? The kind where they step in the room and the place just lights up? That wasn’t me, and I was okay with it. At least I got shit done.

“Okay sorry,” Kiran whines, rubbing his arm. Neither of us wanted to get out, to face the goodbye looming ahead. So we sit for a while.

“Paige Bueckers was drafted there though, right?” My brother asks, staring at the big sign for Terminal 3 above the sliding doors.

“Yeah, she was.”

“She’s tough,” he says and I nod in agreement. I had followed her college career quite a bit, saw her go through injury and rise to the top again. She wasn’t my favourite player, I preferred focusing on the league - but it was undeniable she was a generational talent.

“She’s also really fit,” my brother adds, making me snort.

“Kiran, I'm fairly sure she’s also really gay,” I laugh. My brother turns to me with shock written all over his face.

“You really think so?”

I roll my eyes, “I- well yes. It’s pretty obvious, don’t you think?”

“Damn,” he sighs, shaking his head. “Takes one to know one I guess.”

Another smack on his shoulder, another yelp spilling from his lips. One drunken night years ago I had come out to Kiran as bisexual and now it was his favourite joke in the world. I don’t think he realised I was serious, or that at points in my life I had dated girls as well. Honestly though, I hadn’t even thought about girls that way since I met Jasper. Not that I’d found any girl remotely attractive in the past years, perhaps it had just been a phase.

“You’re going to come back with some 6 '5 American basketball lesbian aren’t you?” He teases, making me roll my eyes.

“We need to head inside,” I laugh, climbing out of the car. I didn’t know much about what would happen, but I certainly wasn’t going to come back with anyone. The time I spend in Dallas would be time dedicated to me, to figuring out who I was, what I wanted. I had no time for love.

I pull the suitcase towards the doors, Kiran on my tail until we both come to a halt right inside. Quickly I check my purse again - passport, phone, wallet, charger, documents. All there. Just one thing left to do.

I turn to my brother and hug him. We had never spent more than a month apart since the day he was born. I had always been the annoying, bossy older sister, ordering him around since he could barely talk. But still, it had all been out of love. I wanted him to be safe and it was my job to protect him. He was my baby brother after all, even now at 23 as he stands 6’0 tall.

“Take care of yourself Izzie,” he whispers, squeezing me tight.

“You too, and of mum and dad please,” I tell him, holding my breath in as to not let any tears fall, though they’re already burning in the corners of my eyes.

We pull apart, and he smiles at me assuringly. “Call mum when you land, we don’t need her getting loopy.”

“I will,” I chuckle. There’s a few seconds of silence that stretches across us, our green eyes locked in each other’s gaze. We don’t need to say these things out loud, we both knew we loved each other.

“Well, have a safe flight and have fun in Dallas,” Kiran says and waves bye, turning around to walk away. “YEEHAW!” He turns around and yells before slipping out through the sliding doors. Laughing, I watch him, the ache in my chest growing exponentially. It was all becoming real. Me in Dallas, Texas.

A couple hours and a long security line later I’m sitting on the ascending plane, gazing out of the window. I stretch out my legs, glad to be short enough to fit in the seats comfortably. I’m holding a copy of War and Peace by Tolstoy in my hands, simply flipping through the pages, my mind too conflicted to focus as I watch the ground beneath me retreating further every second.

I could see Big Ben, The London Eye, Thames stretching across the length of the city, shrinking until we ascend through a thick layer of clouds, making it impossible to see anything. It’s only then I let myself cry, the first tears after ending my engagement only a couple weeks prior. I had no other plan, I needed this to work out desperately.

Jet lag was killing me, but I knew I could never allow it to show. It was the following day of arriving in Dallas. I spent all of yesterday sleeping, trying to let my body adjust to the time difference before my first day on the job.

Of course I had woken up three entire hours before my alarm went off. So when I get to the first media team meeting of the season, I have already had time to drink two coffees, go to the gym, shower, shave, do my jet black hair just to have a crisis and pin it up in a slicked back bun, do my makeup and send emails and make calls to the wedding venue to cancel it. I was on fire and wouldn’t let a little jetlag hold me down.

The maroon turtleneck and black slacks I was wearing had already been decided on the evening before as to avoid any clothing disaster. I wasn’t exactly sure how to dress for a job like this - but as I step into the tall building from the busy streets of Dallas I can tell I’m overdressed. Many of the people around my age are dressed much more laid back than I’m used to, wearing hoodies and jeans - and to my biggest shock of all, sneakers.

As I walk across the entryway the sound of my heels tapping on the tiles echo around the building, my cheeks turning bright red. I knew people were turning to stare, but instead of looking back and checking, I rush to the elevator, slipping in through the doors and facing my reflection. Maybe I was overdressed, but I look nice. The gold earrings decorating my ears contrast against my light brown skin and black hair, making them pop. I smooth over my belt, fixing the way the golden buckle of it was sitting on my slacks when a man around my age walks in just as the doors are about to close.

“Hey there!” He greets me, a charming smile on his face and brown eyes twinkling. His friendliness is so intense it nearly startles me.

“Oh, hey!” I reply, turning towards him. For a moment he looks at me, blinking, perhaps waiting for me to keep talking but when I don’t he’s quick to pick up my slack.

“I’m Trey, I do media stuff for the Wings. Basically a glorified cameraman,” he explains lightheartedly.

“I’m Zari, they just hired me to do social media actually,” I reply, shaking his hand firmly just like my dad always taught me to. There’s a sliver of recognition on Trey’s face as he takes in my words.

“Oh yeah! They said they hired someone new! Didn’t mention you were a Brit tho. Well shit we’re prolly gon’ be working together a lot then,” he says. It’s at that moment I decide that his enthusiasm isn’t fake even though it’s suspiciously intense. Maybe he’s just an energetic guy - maybe he’s just an American.

“I suppose yes!” I chuckle and look over the buttons of the lift. “So, perhaps you know which floor I need to go to then because I don’t?”

“Oh sure thing.”

Pressing on the number 10, the elevator finally begins to move upwards. I’m fiddling with the rings around my fingers, a nervous habit I had.

“You nervous?” Trey asks, picking up on my queues quickly. Guess I wasn’t as composed as I’d liked.

“A bit,” I admit.

Trey chuckles and wraps an arm around my shoulder comfortingly - or I suppose it’s meant to be comforting but I didn’t particularly find it so. “You’ll do good, everyone’s chill here. Except the boss but you get used to her. You can relax, Zari.” As much as the man’s enthusiasm and touchiness shocked me, I was glad to have someone show me where to go instead of wandering around the floors aimlessly.

In a corridor full of doors Trey picks the right one, opening it for me. Inside we find a team of 10 people or so sitting around a table, their discussion immediately coming to a halt when we step in, all eyes turning to me. I feel unease settle over me, but instead of panic I inhale and exhale. I knew I could do this, this was the only plan I had. I had never not had a plan B, a plan C before. This had to be it.

“You must be Izara,” a gravelling voice says as a red haired woman, likely in her 50s, stands up. She’s dressed much more corporate, a fitted blazer and a pencil skirt accentuating her curves. I immediately notice her brows, thin and sharp, appearing almost angry. I didn’t have to be told who this was, Trey’s description had been colourful enough for me to know she was my boss.

“Yes, well I go by Zari actually, if you don’t mind,” I say in a friendly tone, walking over in my black stilettos to shake her hand.

“You kids and your nicknames, oh well. Zari’s fine, but don’t complain if I forget,” she sighs, clearly already bothered. “I’m Linda Halford, the managing media director for the Dallas Wings. We spoke on the phone.”

Her eyes are blue and piercing, but there’s something about her straight forwardness that feels intriguing in contrast to the excessive friendliness of everyone else I’d met so far. Hell, even the cab driver tried to strike up a conversation after my flight. I wasn’t sure if I liked Linda or feared her - perhaps a bit of both.

“It’s nice to meet you in person,” I smile, sitting myself down on the chair Linda pulls out for me right next to her. All eyes were on me of course, the new girl. I just had to get through the first week and I’d be old news. Good old boring Izara. Just get through the week.

“I hope your travels went well,” Linda says distractedly, scrolling through a document on her laptop. As I open my mouth to answer, she keeps talking.

“Now, there are many big changes this year, and our media team has been… not up to par so to speak,” she glances up at Trey, and a couple of girls sitting next to him who I suppose I would be working with as well.

“Thanks to Bueckers, we’re about to have a lot more eyes on us. So I hired Izara-” Zari. Just call me Zari. I bite the inside of my cheek not to correct her, she didn’t seem like the type of woman you correct. “and she’s gonna help us. She’s here to innovate, to come up with ideas to boost online exposure and to boost clicks. We need to get active on Tiktok, and whatever the kids use. I need daily content. No more editing videos for weeks before posting them on Youtube, Trey.”

“My bad,” Trey says, making everyone chuckle, his eyes sparkling when they land on me.

Linda looks at him disapprovingly before continuing.

“We are sitting on a goldmine now guys. Paige Bueckers has over 2 million followers on Instagram. She is incredibly marketable, how do we use her best?” Linda asks, everyone going silent immediately, looking around, waiting for someone to bite. Fine, I will.

Clearing my throat I begin. “Well, I think it’s important that while we do use her to get clicks, we don’t make the Wings the “Paige Bueckers team” and repeat the same mistakes I personally think Indiana Fever did with CC,” My voice is steady, sure, even though deep inside I’m not quite certain about what I’m saying. I pause, composing myself - if there was one thing I was good at it was selling things with confidence. Even when I wasn’t.

“I think we use her for clicks, make loads of content with her but use that content to uplift other players and the whole team. Not just Bueckers, not just Arike, but everyone.”

Linda nods. “Yes, Izara. How do we do that?” Zari. Just say Zari.

I shrug. “A lot of Paige’s fans are young, I’m not sure if some of them even watch the sport at all. So we try to get them intrigued. Not posting purely basketball content, but including some fan service should help with that, incentivise the young girls to get involved with the sport. There needs to be a balance.”

To my shock, when I raise my eyes from the table, Linda is smiling. It’s not the warmest smile, but one nevertheless.

“And this is why we had to hire someone all the way from England, because you guys couldn’t figure this out in this hellhole,” Linda scolds my colleagues. The praise feels good, but I really didn’t want to come off as a show off or soon my only friend in all of Dallas, Texas would be Linda Halford.

“Good job Zari, welcome to the team,” the redhead says firmly before returning to her notes. “Okay tomorrow we are all having a little Dallas Wings get together. The coaches, players, everyone so be prepared to go out after work.”

As I write this down in my calendar I’m interrupted by Linda again. “Izara.”

“Yes?” I ask.

“By the end of tomorrow I’m expecting you to be friendly with Bueckers. You’re gonna be working together a lot, I need you on her good side.”

“Thank God!” I groan to myself, kicking off my black stilettos the second I step into my new home. The league had provided me with an apartment until the end of the season. It was modern, nice, sleek but so incredibly impersonal it pained me. It didn’t feel like me at all, the blank white walls, the dull grey furniture. It wasn’t home.

I crash into the couch face first, mixture of jet lag and stress of the first day on the job taking over. Not only was I the new girl, but I was also the English girl. All day I’d been asked if we really eat beans on toast, and if I’d ever seen the Queen - mind you she passed in 2022.

With too much left to do, I only let myself rest for a few minutes before getting up reluctantly, tiptoeing to my bedroom to start undressing. Throwing on a matching set of knitted cream coloured sweater and pants, I let my hair down, finally feeling comfortable.

Suddenly I hear a loud crash from the hallway, followed by even louder giggles and muffled yelps echoing around the building. Too curious about my neighbours, I step into my slippers and carefully open the door to see what’s going on.

“Bro, it’s not that heavy,” an accented voice groans probably a floor below me. Heavy steps on the stairs are closing in. Two people, I think.

“Lou, you’re kidding right?” Another girl complains, her voice bright.

“You’re too weak, just give it to me,” the other person argues, steps approaching me.

“Ha, no way, you’re just gon’ break my new plates. Ion trust you.”

“Next time you’re getting an at-home deliver- oh hey!”

A brunette girl with her hair down, only in basketball shorts and a sports bra sees me as she turns the corner, meeting my gaze as I peek through my door. She’s holding a cardboard box, full of pans and pots, hair sticking to her forehead from the humidity.

Suddenly the other girl appears, blonde, hair in a bun but other than that pretty much wearing the exact same thing.

“Who you talkin to- oh,” the blonde notices me, her blue eyes so intense my knees nearly buckle.

“Sorry, we’re being really loud, we’re gonna try and keep quiet,” the brunette apologises. The blonde is still watching me, never breaking eye-contact. Feeling uneasy, my eyes flicker to the brunette and I smile politely.

“That’s fine, I was just checking if you were okay?” I ask. The blonde walks past my door, my eyes lingering for a millisecond on the way her biceps flex as she carries a large and apparently heavy box of plates towards the next flight of the stairs.

“We’re good, sorry ‘bout that,” the blonde answers, her voice now much quieter, less lively than before when it echoes around the halls.

“Okay well, maybe next time you should get at-home-delivery?” I suggest, watching as the girls struggle slowly up the stairs before retreating back into my apartment.

“That’s what I SAID!” The brunette complains loudly. I can still hear them bickering when I close the door, a smile spreading to my face. The first time I’ve genuinely laughed since I landed.

It’s as if I knew those girls from somewhere, but couldn’t quite place it. Something about them was so familiar. It’s not till I hear them jogging back down for the next batch of boxes to carry upstairs, their voices loud enough to echo into my apartment, when I realise.

“Paige I’m about to call Bob Bueckers to come help us soon, I’m dead serious.”

“You don’t got my dad’s number.”

“Pretty sure I do!”

Oh. Peeking out through the peephole my suspicions are confirmed. Walking past my door it indeed is Paige and Lou, bringing more kitchenware upstairs. And I didn’t even recognise them. I look down at my knitted set with a deep sigh. So much about being professional huh? I better make a good impression tomorrow.

taglist: @wbbgetsmewetter @thaatdigitaldiary @sierrale8ne @lupinqs @lovegalor333 @d3arapril @avvwritesstufff @rosemariiaa @bueckers22 @taylynbueckers44 @unadulteratedcyclepaper @rizzlerbuckets @bueckersfive @wosolipa @bridgetloveswomen @paiges-1vur @slut4uconnwbb @xxloveralways14 @bueckersbitch

#paige bueckers #lilas writing #so it goes #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers fanfic #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x female oc #wnba x oc

285 notes · View notes

athenamikaelson · 2 years ago

Text

Complaints and Harriet Styles Pt. 2

Klaus Mikaelson x reader

Warnings- strong language, innuendos, mentions of blood and death.

Word count- 2.5k

“Would it make me a bad person if I said he was hot?’ I asked Caroline as I sat in front of her vanity mirror as she curled my hair.

“Y/n,” Caroline frowned at me as she looked at me through the mirror, “he either killed or is trying to kill our friends. He’s a bad guy, so don’t even think about it.”

“I’m not saying I want to bang the guy or anything,” As I say that the the thought crosses my mind and it’s clear Caroline knows that as well as her frown deepens, “Care don’t get your Barbie hair in a twist. Even though his accent is dreamy and his blue eyes make my knees shake. I’m not going to try anything, obviously.” I say mockingly as Caroline watches me as if she’s somehow aged 100 years since our conversation began. Which you know isn’t possible because she’s literally immortal.

“Sometimes I don’t know what to do with you. You’re either arguing with someone or hitting on them. Or even both!” She says as she throws her hands up in emphasis, the curler unplugging itself during her action.

We both sit there in silence for a moment looking at the curler’s wire. I look up at her with a sly smile, “Does this mean we’re finally done? My ass hurts from sitting here and being your personal doll.” Caroline puts her hand on her hip with a displeased look on her face.

“I haven’t finished curling the other half of your head, so turn around and shut it. And didn’t you just say I was the Barbie doll?” She says matter-of-factly as she replugs in the curler and waits for it to heat back up.

“Ok well you are a Barbie doll, I’m more like that doll that Angelica had in Rugrats, y’know the one with fucked up hair and looks like she just got thrown into a blender.” I laugh at my own joke as Caroline rolls her eyes, a smile trying to make its way onto her face.

I glance at my dark eyeshadow that makes my y/e/c eyes bright.

“Why do I even have to go to this stupid dance, our school has like 14 a year. How does our town even have the budget for that? And why do we have to do weird decade dances?”

“Y/N you’re going to homecoming, end of story. It’s our senior year. This past year has been so crazy that we deserve a little normalcy.” She says as she finishes my last section of hair.

“Normalcy? You do realize that every dance we’ve had since last year has ended with someone dead or impaled right? It isn’t a Mystic Falls high school dance if it doesn’t end in blood!” Caroline just watches me in annoyance as she sprays my hair with hairspray, “accidentally” spraying some into my face.

“Bitch!” I cough out.

“Go get dressed!” She uses her strength to lift me up and push me over to her closet where my y/f/c dress is hanging.

I look over my shoulder, “I hate you.”

Caroline smiles, “Love you too brat.”

-------------

I listen to the live band as I sip on the disgusting drink in my hand. Caroline who was supposed to chaperone tonight left me to go yell at Tyler for his wolfy crush or whatever on Klaus. I’m seriously debating on just walking myself home, since Caroline was my ride, as I watch on in disgust as teenagers grind against each other to the fast song the band is playing in the backyard of Tyler’s house. Somehow Tyler was able to put together a huge party since the gym was flooded last minute. Caroline didn’t seem suspicious but I on the other hand always think the worst is going to happen at any time, and with my friend group's history with dances I wouldn’t be surprised if something was going to go down tonight. I'm about to grab my bag and leave before shit goes down when I hear a British accent come from behind me.

“Welcome everyone tonight,” I turn around, and low and behold that British fuck from Senior prank night is standing up on the stage in front of all of us, yapping about something.

“This is a long time coming,” He says as he watches someone from the crowd with a smirk on his face. I follow his eye line to see Stefan staring back at him. Yikes. I look back to the Brit but find his eyes staring in my direction. I don’t think he’s looking at me until I send a look of disgust at him which makes the smirk on his face deepen. Fuck me. Wait. No. I quickly turn around and start to make my way to the edge of the party hoping to make my escape before I get sucked into whatever bullshit the Scooby gang is going to try to drag me into. I smile to myself as I’m about to be successful in my escape as my vision is blocked by something. Said something bumps me backwards throwing me off balance and I wait to hit the ground as I start falling, but nothing comes. I look up to see Klaus grabbing ahold of the top of my arm, keeping me from falling down.

“What a fucking cliche,” I say to myself angrily. Klaus looks at me inquisitively.

“What’s a cliche?” He asks me with that stupidly hot accent as I rip my arm away from his hold and put another foot's distance between us.

“You catching me,” I tell him but he only looks confused, “Y’know in romcoms when the girl trips and falls but doesn’t actually fall because the random hot main guy catches her. It’s a big fucking cliche.” I say huffing as Klaus watches me with that stupid fucking smirk on his face.

“And I’m the main hot guy?” He asks, clearly trying to get me to go along with his current ego trip.

“No, you’re not. Ryan Gosling is the hot main guy or Paul Rudd,” I let out a satisfactory sigh at Paul Rudd, “You’re more of the evil boos villain in video games.”

“And what’s so wrong with being the villain?” He asks me as he takes a step towards me.

I look at him with what I can only guess looks like a “are you fucking kidding me” look.

“Literally everything. That’s literally the whole point of being the villain.” I put my hand out stopping him from stepping closer. Klaus watches me closely for a second too long. His gaze makes me quite uncomfortable because I can’t tell if he wants to kill me for speaking to him like I just did or applaud me for having the balls to. God, sometimes I just need to learn to shut the fuck up.

“Dance with me.” He states as he puts his hand out waiting for me to give him my hand in return. My gaze goes from his face to his hand multiple times before I shake my head in annoyance.

“No way dude,” I say as I start to book it back towards the house away from him. I don’t get far though because he’s in front of me again with a determined look on his stupidly hot face. God why does it always have to be the bad guys that are hot?

“Either you dance with me, or I start killing your friends off one by one. I wonder where that blond friend of yours is, Tyler’s little girlfriend.” He says with a dark glint in his eyes.

“Why?” I try to hold my ground even though I’m pretty sure I’m about to start pissing myself any second now.

“Why what?” he asks me as he watches me.

“Why do you want to dance with me? Theirs like 200 other girls here that I’m sure would just jump at the chance to dance with some British guy.”

Klaus just shrugs his shoulder as if he himself doesn’t even have an answer to the question.

“Because none of them have had the displeasure of catching my eye.”

“And let me guess, I have?” I ask him. He doesn’t give me an answer though, only reaches out his hand once again waiting for me to take it. Annoyed I slap my hand in his and drag him to the dance floor. Once I push us into the middle of a big group, I turn to him.

“Don’t be pissy if I step on your toes.” Klaus just lets out a huff of a laugh as he drags my body closer to him so my chest is touching his. A shudder goes through my body at the contact and I mentally curse myself for the reaction. Fuck he smells good. Jesus Y/N get a grip, he’s just a guy. A thousand-year-old hot guy, but still just a guy. I look up to find Klaus already staring at me, with a knowing smirk on his face. I just roll my eyes as I try to play it off cool as he sways me to the now slow song.

“So tell me, how did you become friends with my doppelganger and her little group of followers?” A weird feeling of sadness flows through me at his question as I realize he only asked me to dance for information on my friends.

“We grew up together. Small town like this everyone knows each other, sadly.” I say looking off to the distance and watching the other couples converse lovingly with one another.

“Why sadly?” He asks me, and for a second I could’ve sworn I heard actual curiosity. I glance back at him and shrug.

“I just hate this town. I never liked people knowing my business, and everyone here is so complacent with their normal lives. They never question anything or want to know more about anything other than what happens in our weird ass town.” I blush as I realize I just rambled on to a complete psycho about my feelings. But, the look on Klaus’s face isn’t one of annoyance or humor like the other people I’ve vented to usually have on their faces. His face turns from contemplation to understanding.

“I know what you mean,” He says as he expertly twirls me around, “when I was a boy I grew up in a small village where the wasn’t much chance for prospering. I loved the arts and knew I would never be able to do anything with it. It made me angry. So I can understand your resentment.” He tells me and for a second I forget that he’s the blood-thirsty monster ruining my friend’s lives.

“You like art?” He looks down at me with a soft smile as if the subject brings out a different side of him.

“I’ve loved it for over a thousand years. The way emotions can be shown through a canvas and bring out emotion so foreign is unlike anything else I found over a millennium of living,” His eyes trail down to mine, “What do you think?”

I nod softly in agreement, “I love art. Not really painting because I’m kind of shit at it, but sketching and just looking at art. Although I’m not a fan of this new-age art where someone can splash a canvas with a line of color and sell it for a million dollars. I like art that means something to someone. Art that when you look at it you can feel the emotions that the artist was feeling, every move of the brush stroke made with heart and emotion.” Klaus nods along to my rambling again with a soft look on his face. A look that I can’t quite decipher since it’s on the face of one of the scariest men in the world.

As the song comes to an end I reluctantly let go of Klaus’s hands. He stares at me for a moment and I think he’s just going to turn around and walk off realizing he didn’t get the information he wanted but then a small laugh escapes his lips and he shakes his head. I watch on in slight confusion wondering if he’s having some kind of stroke or something.

“You’re not like them you know,” he must notice my confusion because he continues, “like your friends. You’re nothing like them.” I pang of hurt pierces my chest as I turn away and start to walk off, “Well screw you too.”

“I didn’t mean that as an insult,” He says hastily as he grabs my arm turning me back towards him, “You’re friends they’re small-minded. They think of only themselves and not the world around them, or how amazing it can be.” I go to interrupt him and tell him not to insult my friends but he cuts me off.

“You need something bigger than this little town. Something that brings you life. When I originally saw you that night in the gym I thought you were just going to be like the rest of them. But you surprised me Y/n, and not many people can say that.”

I just stare at him in amazement for what seems like forever as I try to piece together everything he just told me. In my stupor though a woman approaches Klaus and whispers something to him which makes his originally light demeanor change to something dark. The woman walks away as Klaus looks at me once more.

“Whenever you decide you want to be a part of something bigger, see something other than this little town I’d be happy to show you. All you need to do is ask.” He tells me as he grabs my hand and places a chaste kiss upon it. I still can't get the balls to say anything as he gives me one last glance before he follows behind the woman.

What the actual fuck.

-------------

I walked up to my front porch after getting dropped off by Matt because I guess Tyler drugged Caroline with vervain to save her from a pack of mind-controlled hybrids so that’s why she couldn’t bring me home. Sometimes I really hate my friend group. Why can’t for once we deal with normal people's problems like pop quizzes or acne? Like why does not one person in that entire group have a pimple on their skin? That’s the most supernatural thing going on here.

I’m about to open my front door when a small envelope catches my eye at the bottom of my feet. I look over my shoulder and only see Matt as he waits for me to enter my house. I wave to him with the envelope in hand and walk inside my house. I hastily open the envelope and pull out a piece of thick canvas paper. The paper is covered with a beautiful sketch of what appears to be an open field covered in flowers with grazing horses in the distance. Being so engrossed in the sketch I didn't notice the small note on the back.

“There’s a whole world out there just waiting for you to experience, love. When you’re ready to experience it, I’ll be waiting.” – Klaus

Taglist-

@grac3aph3lion @megmcc2003 @kollover24 @nameunknownsthings

#author #athenamikaelson #klaus mikaelson #klaus mikaleson imagine #stefan x elena #the originals #the vampire diaries #thecwshows #elena gilbert #elijah mikaelson #klaus x reader #tvd klaus #bonnie bennett #tvd fanfiction #tvdversegifs #tvd x reader #thevampirediaries #the vampire diares imagine

977 notes · View notes

deathsbecome · 1 year ago

Text

she's aware she doesn't really grasp the nuances of...well, any of this. the family dynamics aren't really something she's super good with. the emotional tension between everyone. while she can get a tiny amount of insight into the timelines that have since been written over through the repeated jumps through time, she wouldn't say she's anywhere near close to understanding it. but he's not the only one looking to escape the chaos of the others.

as for five's body language...well, she gets a little bit of that feeling that her presence is unwelcome, but she's never been too good at picking that out. years of being on the run and, for the most part, alone didn't help that, either.

"just...looking for someone with a bit more sense, i guess." there's a shrug, and she glances around, "or at least, somewhere quiet than in there." the bickering to her felt essentially like someone taking a power drill to her skull, so any distance from that was welcomed.

it's always something he failed at. something he did wrong. something that he was meant to know about the human condition that forty-five years of isolation hadn't taught him. he'd tried to save them all. to protect the one thing he still supposedly had. well, if you ignore the fact that by technicality his family he grew up with truly died in the apocalypse and the ones presently wandering around are a new set from the branched timeline he created jumping back.

yeah, better ignore that before he screams.

the iron grip on his latest bottle of alcohol should scream at the person who had approached him that he wasn't in the mood for conversation. let them fuck up the universe. let them feel the wrath of multiple adult children selfishly wanting their own desires instead of protecting their family.

"can i fucking help you?" the ice in his tone suggests not. especially if it is another request for a family meeting that would devolve into the five blame game. he's done with being the go to reason for what is wrong in their pitiful lives.

open starter!

#replying to this because i want to put these two in a blender or something lmao #just the parallels of. both having powers that have drastically altered how they see things #the experience of familial death at a young age and that leading to isolation #them just being similar in attitude in trait too #shaking them until they explode #secondsnctdecades #all that blood was never once beautiful (verse: umbrella academy)

14 notes · View notes

brotherwtf · 8 months ago

Note

Having thoughts about age gap au Gale hiding an injury/illness from John because his dad always made him feel like a burden and that hurt was deserved 💔 and John losing his mind but trying not to show it as he takes care of Gale, or maybe he doesn't get to because Gale has to go to the hospital and John gets the call while he's at work </3 these boys can fit so much whump and trauma and comfort

ughhhh yes putting Gale into the whump blender again :(( I want to traumatize this boy forever that is my lot in life

----

Gale knew to never show weakness. It's what he was taught from an incredibly young age, weakness meant you could be picked from the crowd, weakness meant that you weren't good enough.

There was a lot of things Gale's father viewed as a weakness. Being sick, scraping your knees, getting hurt and you better not think about crying because at that point you'd be better off dead anyway. Gale learned to hide it whenever he got sick, to lick his wounds in solitude, and to never, ever, ask for help or pity.

So Gale didn't even flinch when he woke up with a 102 degree fever. He's lived through worse, no need to be a baby about it. He got ready for his classes like normal, kissed John goodbye, and waved off his looks of concern when John pressed his cheek to Gales forehead, fretted about him running hot. Gale was fine, he didn't need John's help.

He was able to get through his first class without many problems, he felt waves of nausea periodically and some bouts of lightheadedness, but Gale wasn't going to let that take him down. His second class was a little worse, his hands quivered when he tried to write and the nausea stayed, no longer ebbing in and out in waves.

Gale passes out around lunchtime, Marge by his side and all he can really hear is her anxious fretting, calls of his name and yelling at someone to phone the hospital. He remembers weakly trying to push her off, says he's fine, but Marge tells him to shut the fuck up, he's going to the damn hospital. He doesn't remember much after that.

He wakes up to the soft beeping of a heart monitor, the bright fluorescent lights of a hospital room and he groans. Gale shouldn't be here. He's taking up the space that someone else needs more, he doesn't deserve the time or energy that people are wasting on him. He doesn't get to dwell too much before John is quickly at his side, taking his hand and pushing his hair back. His lips press into a thin line, palm pressing against the sure heat that Gale gives off.

"Baby? Are you okay? God Marge told me you collapsed and I left work immediately. Fuck Gale you should have told me you weren't feeling good," John frets and Gale just shakes his head weakly.

"I'm fine, John. I'm good, you didn't need to leave work just for me. When are they gonna let me out?" Gale asks and his voice is hoarse.

John's brow furrows and his expression grows stern.

"Gale, no, you're not fine. You have a 103 degree fever and you're shaking like a damn leaf. I'm not gonna stay at work when I know you're sick," John says and Gale can feel another wave of nausea that isn't caused by the sickness.

Gale turns his head against the pillow, avoiding John's gaze and he can feel his eyes well up. No, no, he can't cry. Crying is the worst thing he could do right now. But the tears come anyway, streaming down his face steadily and John rushes down to wipe them away, fretting all over again.

"Hey, hey, baby, Gale, come on don't cry. It's okay, I'm not mad I swear. You should have just told me you weren't feeling well, I could have helped, then maybe you wouldn't have fainted," John says, a firm thumb brushing away the tears that stream down his face and Gale shakes his head.

"Don't... don't wanna be a burden," Gale manages to choke and John shushes him and forces Gale's head to turn towards him.

John's face is both soft and firm, his eyes filled with emotion that's both frustration and affection. Gale hates how worried he looks, just because Gale's a little bit sick.

"Gale, you will never be a burden to me. I promised your mama I would protect you, and I promised you the same. I love you, Gale, and if it takes me dropping everything for you to understand how much you mean to me, I'll do it in a heartbeat," John says, cupping Gale's face with both of his hands.

Gale squeezes his eyes shut because he knows if he looks at John anymore he'll just ugly sob, grabs John's wrist and nuzzles his soaked face into it, gasps and chokes as he continues to sob, John shushing him and bringing him in closer until their foreheads are pressed together, breathing heavily against his face.

"I swear, Gale, you are not a burden. You are my everything, doll, my everything," John whispers, and Gale can only nod, finally allowing himself to melt into the sheets, letting himself feel fatigued and exhausted and sick because John is letting him, allowing him to let go.

#clegan #mota #buck x bucky #john egan #gale cleven #asks #age gap au

54 notes · View notes

cheriladycl01 · 1 year ago

Text

That'll be the back up generator! George Russell x CoffeeShopOwner! Reader

Plot: George Russell finds himself in a coffee shop after the Italian Grand Prix but a storm makes him get stuck in the shop.

A/N: Tell me your views on Sam and Colby and like other youtubers in the comments and if you like them!

It was a really slow and hot day in the cafe, it had been your dream since you were a child to own a coffee shop on the street you grew up in, in Milan.

You got a degree in the UK at the request of your parents before coming back to your home country to set up the shop. You had the exact shop in mind on the street and it was the same one that had been run down an abandoned for years.

You completely re-done up the shop, making it exactly how you envisioned it. You had loads of plants running throughout and a little street section with seats out the front and a small balcony that looked over the whole street.

You were very busy today, everyone seemed to be wanting iced coffee's and smoothies. Loads of tourists came in for water, making you chuckle each time when they enunciated their words assuming you couldn't understand English.

But it started to get a little later and darker and people were now choosing to go to bar's as they were opening now. It was a Saturday so you new it would be busy because of the race in Monza and most people coming back to Milan centre to spend their evening.

There was no-one in the store right now and you let the last two staff go home from their shift early as you'd heard them talking about going clubbing tonight. You were making yourself a smoothie the blender so loud you didn't hear the bell chime. Just as the blender stopped you tuned into the conversation.

"This looks pretty quiet, lets stay here" one of their voices said that sounded British but had a slight American twang to it.

"I forgot cafe's were a thing!" a louder American voice out of the group added as you watched as they took the booth at the back. That's also when you noticed the team wear they were in, they worked for the racing teams.

"Yeah, Carlos' life hack apparently!" a fully British voice says and you walk slowly over to the table.

"Hey guys, what can I sort out for you today?" you ask, and they all push up their glasses, their faces were red and a some of their foreheads were lined with sweat.

"Oh, hello erm could be just get some water for now and food menu's please" another guy asks in Williams gear and you smile nodding, grabbing them from the counter next to them. You grab a jug of ice cold water and four glasses placing them down on the table.

They eventually give you their orders and you make yourself busy in the back small kitchen putting together the sandwiches and salads they'd requested.

You make light conversation with them handing them out eventually finding out they they are some of the drivers, Lewis and George who both drove for the Mercedes team, and Alex and Logan who drove for the Williams team.

You saw how they were struggling with the heat of the shop, you kept the water consistent and move the fan that was behind the counter with you to face them, you couldn't imagine how exhausted they felt after a race.

Eventually, Logan left first saying that Oscar and Lando wanted to hang out which you can only assume were other drivers. Then Lewis and Alex left at the same time with different reasons, one being Alex girlfriend just landed and Lewis wanted to do some shopping.

"And then there was one!" George sighed with a shake of his head, taking a bite of the pastry you'd brought him over.

"Hey, you want a smoothie, on the house of course. I'm just trying out some new things" you smile, trying to engage him in conversation.

He looked up at you with a huge smile and a nod of his head.

"Yeah, I'm down to try anything!" he smiled. You go behind the counter starting on cutting the fruit for the smoothie. You would look up every now and then catching eyes with George who always seemed to be gazing at you when you would meet his eye.

You bring him the smoothie over on the tray, making it a little fancier than you probably would when you put it on the menu.

"One, smoothie by yours truly!" you joke, smiling down at him.

"Your accent is strange" he says smiling up at you with his head tilting to the side.

"Thanks?" you offer with a small laugh not exactly sure what to say.

"No-no not like that, you obviously are Italian but you have an English twang to it?" he offers looking over your features.

George didn't think he'd ever met someone so beautiful. And it was an effortless kind of beauty as well, your hair up in a claw clip and a little messy from a hard day at work, flour covering the bottom part of your apron and a little sweat building under your eyes from the heat in the cafe.

"Ah, I studied in the UK for a while before I came back here, but i was born here in Milan!" you explain knowing what he was on about, you'd easily picked up on some British slang in your time their and the speech patterns to make your English sound easier on the ear.

"What did you study?" he asks, a look of shock on his face.

"Business management!" you smile. And he takes his first sip of the smoothie you gave him, his eyes going wide.

"That's amazing! And I'm guessing that's how you came to own this place?" his eyes light up taking another sip.

"This is really good, what's in it?" he interrupts his own question looking up at you.

"That is a secret!" you grin before walking off and over to the counter grabbing your own smoothie you'd made earlier. You check the time seeing it's around half an hour till you close, you walk out the front to bring the street chairs and tables in until you see and feel the weather.

It was really windy, and you felt the spotting of rain. The sky had turned awfully dark. You bring all the tables and chairs in before locking and bolting the door.

"Er, are you kidnapping me?" George asks seeing you latch the bottom bit of the door tightly.

"No no, I'm sorry the weather out there it just really picked up and the doors the original so it's pretty loose unless it's latched and I don't want it flying off!" you explain, worried he genuinely thought you were trying to hold him hostage.

"Holy shit yeah!" he exclaims looking out the front windows seeing the wind affecting some of the other shop owners who are hurriedly trying to pull their chairs or stock in depending what kind of place it was.

You both sit together but the storm only picks up and after what feels like an hour, you and George started to play uno which he had on him for some reason.

The door of the cafe was rattling and you could hear the whistling of the wind flow its way from the upstairs balcony and down the stairs.

"It's getting worse" you explain. Looking out the window and he nods. It was way past closing now but the streets looked so bad, no-one was out on them and George didn't feel like risking walking back to the hotel with the amount of debris flying around.

However within seconds, the room went dark and you gasped, not being able to see anything.

"Did, did we just loose power?" he asks, feeling around for his phone only for his hand to rest on your thigh, another gasp coming from your mouth and a string of apologies from George.

"It's okay, I just didn't expect it and it's so dark right now and I'm scared shitless!" you offer with a small chuckle.

"Where's like, your power supply and stuff!" he asks, finally turning the torch on his phone on, sending light up into the room when he turns the phone face down leaving it in between you two.

"I have a back up generator, that should kick in once it realizes there's no power" you smile, looking at his handsome face light up by the torch.

However, it also looked really creepy the way the light shaped his sharper features. It made you laugh a little.

"What?" he asks laughing along with you.

"Sorry, I feel like I'm in a Sam and Colby YouTube video right now, telling ghost stories while in a haunted house" you admit, changing so your on your knees.

"Well, this place isn't haunted right?" he laughs nervously.

"Nope, not as far as I'm aware!" you smile, it's gone extremely cold since the storm started and you shivered a little. There had been no predicted cold areas today so you hadn't brought anything with you.

"Oh, you look cold take this!" he smiles handing you his team jacket. You shrug it on with a small thank you. You both talk about everything you could think of to ask one another. From questions about his driving to your time in university. You told him all your funny club night story's from your first year where you still weren't really accustomed to British Culture and what is right and what was seen as wrong. He told you about how he used to be in Alex and Logan's team but basically got moved into a better car. You didn't really understand how it worked and you listened before asking your questions that he was more than happy to answer.

He's looking at you, holding your eye contact the whole time you both talk even if you look away to use your hands to embellish what your saying. Sometimes you used Italian words that George didn't know but in the context of the sentence he'd be able to work out the English for it and explain to you.

He's so impossibly close to you, that you think he might be leaning in closer and closer.

Before anything happens, a whirring from the back startles you both.

"That'll be the back up generator" you smile looking at the low level lighting and small strip lights all turning on.

"Er yeah, i guess it is!" he smiles looking over you. You get up onto your knees seeing that the wind is slowly dying down.

"I recon you can go now, it looks like the wind had died down enough!" you smile unlatching the door.

"Yeah, thank you. Er, yeah thanks" he smiles walking out the door. You follow him out locking up from the outside before taking off in the other direction. You didn't know if you'd ever see him again but you hoped he would.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @kapsylia @laneyspaulding19 @lazybot @malynn @cassielikereading @viennakarma @teamnovalak @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @jlb20416 @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @seomako @urdad-hot @formula1mount @tinydeskwriter @butterfly-lover @ironmaiden1313

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 #formula one #formula one fanfiction #george russel imagine #george russell x reader #george russell imagine #george russell #george russell x you #gr63 imagine #gr63 x reader #gr63 #mercedes

335 notes · View notes

lochyratliffs · 20 days ago

Note

Can't unsee it now, there's some drink metaphor going on - Saxon making Lochy drink all those horrible shakes, later Tim making everyone drink pina colada (except Lochy) before calling it off, at the end Lochy drinking leftovers and almost dying. Over-explanation is welcome

and when tim slaps the pina colada out of saxon's hand it looks suspicious

i don't have many thoughts on this, aside from the fact that one facet of saxon and lochlan's relationship being so fucked is saxon trying to replicate the power his father has over him onto his relationship with lochlan. i believe one part of saxon grooming lochlan throughout the thailand trip is him trying to show lochlan how Good Sons treat their fathers, with saxon blindly meeting timothy on his plane of existence, work, while saxon tries to make lochlan meet him on his own plane of existence, which is sex.

from that alone, we can maybe look at the drinks as social norms passed down from father to son and "father" to son, or as toxic masculinity being forced onto younger men? or as the pressure put on sons to conform to their father's ideals? ultimately, lochlan dies because of timothy's poisonous seed, and there's a WHOLE lot of sexual imagery there, whether seed = come/DNA or seed = the roots of a toxic family tree.

we can interpret timothy not trying to murder lochlan/not giving him his drink to metaphorically be a reference to the fact that lochlan wasn't really parented by timothy the way saxon and piper were, which isn't explicitly stated but is implied-- we see both saxon and piper have individual conversations with both parents, but iirc lochlan never speaks one-on-one with victoria, only getting close when she's grilling him about piper's monastery stay-- saxon is in the corner not speaking, so it doesn't count-- and with timothy when timothy's asking him if he could live with being poor, that single conversation then leading to timothy deciding to spare him.

looking at lochlan drinking the leftovers from the blender-- during saxon and lochlan's confrontation over thailand, lochlan asks for a shake, saxon tells him he already had one, and then later lochlan decides to drink the leftovers to feel closer to saxon in the wake of this unbridgeable gap that's grown between them, which lochlan sees as his fault. during the pina colada murder-suicide circlejerk, lochlan/timothy/piper are dressed in blue tones while saxon/victoria are in somewhat like colours, lighter than the rest of the family, maybe because piper and lochlan are the only ones timothy ever really thought could be saved? but lochlan is in blue and yellow, which also matches victoria's dress and saxon's slacks.

anyway, other people have talked about this better than i can: @chekhovs-blender made this excellent video, and i know someone wrote a meta post ABOUT THIS that is way better than my answer here, but now i can't find it... if anyone knows what i'm talking about, drop it in the replies please!!

#gay incest dialectics #timothy #saxon #lochlan

20 notes · View notes

orionangeline · 1 year ago

Text

Faligons behavior with thistle is sooo fascinating to me. Is it falin who doesn't like seeing pain who cares about this stressed little creature? Is it the dragon, loyal like a dog? Is it thistle unconsciously influencing them both by his repressed need to be cared for and loved? All of them? Does falin have the memories of a thousand years as a loyal dragon watching this child ache? Is the dragon always like this anyway? Does it bring him it's prey and wish for a pat on the head like the old days? God. I'm shaking I need to be put in a blender

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #thistle dunmeshi #dunmeshi #faligon #i mean yea it's not any new thoughts but GOD im normal for real

80 notes · View notes

waxingwinchester · 4 months ago

Text

the morning after

a/n - kinda wincest?? platonic for this fic but they have a protective bond. wrote this on a whim because there's no spn vore!!

warnings - VORE! well, it's not explicit but dean does vore someone the night prior and sam takes care of him in the morning. belly kink, belly rubs, burping, etc. mentions of sex and bones breaking during the digestion part

w.c. - 1.9k

Dean ambled into the kitchen with a limp in his step. For all the post-coital mornings he spent gulping down his one-night stand—ensuring that it would stay one night, no matter how hot the dude or chick he was banging looked to be—his body never got used to the imbalance of weight placed inappropriately on him. He wished that when he ate someone, it was like in a cartoon where they wore you like a suit, because trying to fight a hangover with a sore body inside your sore body resulted in the type of walk that made him look half-necrotic. The living dead had risen in the morning and looked even worse in the daylight.

His figure passed through the door frame and looked more like he was blocking the exit rather than peacefully entering until he soldiered on. The way his body sluggishly and sharply moved to drag his body and the weight of his round ball-gut with him was like a sight unseen, even by two brothers who had seen endless horrors. Dean looked for the nearest surface to rest the new weight hanging off of him on, anything to give him a rest from feeling his stomach bubble. He was already down to just his boxers and the robe that he had taken up the duty of wearing to honor the last guys that lived there—and totally not because he was able to let it hang around his newly bloated form in a way that his flannel and jeans couldn’t fit over. And he had tried a lot of ways to make them fit until the buttons on both popped and he learned that he better save the rest of his clothes from the thread-pulling nature of his width.

So, a robe and boxers it was. His belly hung low enough and had finally digested enough of his prey to swing with each step like the ends of his robe, and the sloshing from the remnants of the man inside his belly drew Sam’s attention.

“Morning, Sunshine.” Sam beamed at a drained Dean, who was still regaining the color in his face. He stood behind the chrome counter with a lineup of a vegetable’s—and Dean’s—worst nightmare: a few knives of different sizes resting on the right end of the counter with their blades fogged up from mincing rabbit food, a cutting board, a juicer with the shallow heads of a few grapefruits, a recently emptied blender still dripping from whatever Sam had thrown in it, and the bloody concoction of their puke-green insides filling two tall glasses at the other end. The last thing Dean needed to think about was puke. With so many drinks and a big meal to eat last night, he nearly threw up a half-digested meal, and that would have made this site ten times worse to look at. At least Sam had used the blender while he was still passed out, or else Dean might have been marching in here to stop the headache-inducing whirring of a blade and not the vomit-inducing look of vegetables made into a healthy hangover cure.

“Please tell me those crap-shakes are both for you.” Dean took a seat on one of the stools at the wooden table, his body loathing him for diverting off the straight path he was taking to reach the counter, but he needed to give his legs a break already. He looked down to the dark grain underneath the polished surface of the table and felt like he was drunk again while trying to make sense of the flow of it. The pattern he traced over with his eyes was broken by Sam setting one of the two glasses down in front of him.

“You need it, Dean. I can already tell you didn’t eat well last night… or drink well.” Sam took a seat across from him at the table. He had put a straw in both drinks and held on to the end of his with his index and middle finger, swirling the drink around before aiming it towards his mouth so he could lower his head and take a sip.

“I don’t get why you punish yourself, Sammy. You stayed up all night studying, and that is how you reward yourself?” Dean took the straw out of his drink and set it to the side, letting the bit of the drink that clung to it splatter on the table. Sam just rolled his eyes at his brother’s carelessness before piping up to defend himself.

“I treat myself, Dean. I just like to make sure whoever I eat has a good experience. It’s probably like a thousand tiny chainsaws in there for whoever that is.”

“It’s food, Sammy. As long as it doesn’t hurt me, then it’s as sweet as freakin’ pie.” Dean sighed and lifted the glass up to his lips. His lips curled around the edges, and he tilted the glass so the green juice edged off the glass and into his mouth. He tried to drink it fast to get the taste down but stopped after a few loud gulps, pulling the glass away and setting it down on the table in front of him. A green juice-mustache stained his upper lip. “Oh, but this. This pains me, Sammy. This isn’t even edible!”

“Just drink it, Dean.” Sam took his time with his and sipped it, and, to Dean’s disgust, held it in his mouth to enjoy the flavor.

Dean took another sip and set it down, retracting his upper lip in disgust and turning his head away. He wasn’t exactly hungry, so he couldn’t even trick himself into eating it out of pure necessity—last night’s hookup was still more than leaving an impact on him. “You know, I miss the days when Dad just gave us the good ol’ ‘get up and get in the damn car’ talk instead of this. Nothing got me over a hangover more than gas station coffee and some music.”

Standing, Dean latched onto the table for support. He had forgotten about his distended stomach, still working over the curled-up person inside, who had managed to last at least five hours in his stomach while still remaining whole. The downsides of having a late night are that your mistakes feel deceivingly far away when in reality it was just a couple of hours ago that Dean had fucked and feasted on a sweaty babe he picked up from some bar a few miles out. He couldn’t tell if the person had succumbed to the stomach acid or was exhausted from having sex and then being forcefully dragged down his throat when he felt hungry, not even five minutes after cuddling up with them.

“You’re going out?” Sam asked, his eyebrows falling closer to his eyes in confusion and mostly concern.

Dean stood for a moment, then fell back down onto the stool with a few heavy pants. “Yeah—dammit—I am.”

“Dean, you can barely stand. It must have taken all your energy just to walk in here. Just chill out and drink up.” Sam reached across the table to slide Dean’s glass closer to him.

“Your crap-shake? No way, Sam. You know that I don’t even like lettuce and tomato on my burgers.” Dean nearly gagged at the idea of finishing the whole thing. He hoped that, if he at least tried to drink it, that Sam would forgive him for leaving some—if not, most—of it still in the cup.

But Sam wasn’t going to budge. “Dean.”

“Sam.” And Dean couldn’t move out of his seat, so he was left to stay stern with his baby brother.

Sam stood up and moved around the table faster than Dean could have done if he had had enough time to mentally and physically prepare himself. “You need to drink it, Dean.”

He picked up Dean’s glass and held it in one hand. His other found its way to the underside of Dean’s chin, where he cradled it. “Are you going to open up for me?”

Without any words shared between them, Dean opened his mouth, and Sam held the glass to his lips. He watched Dean lean his head back, his throat going wide and his jaw going slack as Sam tipped the glass down and let it all rush into Dean’s mouth. The juice’s bitter taste returned to Dean’s tongue quickly, but as he gulped down the stream of blended kale, celery, chard, and mint, he started to think that it wasn’t that bad of a flavor. But just as he started to get used to the taste, he had finished off the glass, and the very last few drops slid down and into his open mouth. Sam pulled away by then as Dean’s eyes locked onto the last few bits of gross, flavor-packed health slop, setting the glass down with a clink against the table.

“There, all gone,” Sam said.

A few beats passed before Dean winced, rubbing his stomach. “What all was in that junk?”

Sam bent down to be level with his brother’s round, beach-ball-sized stomach, fitting his two hands around where Dean had placed his. Though that didn’t stop him from easily answering the question, “Kale, celery, mint, some probiotics for gut health.”

“What kind of probiotics, Sam?” Dean asked, a nervous pit forming in his gut—or was that the probiotics? Or was it the person in his stomach finally stirring from all the disruption? He hoped they had been digested beyond consciousness by that point so they wouldn’t have to wake up to the smell and sound of Sam’s gut-health-juice raining down on them.

“Just the regular ones, Dean!” It clicked for how poorly Dean must have been eating these past few weeks to end up feeling like this. Maybe he was more than hungover—this was a cry for his body to get anything other than meat and fats in its system.

Dean didn’t have a smart thing to say because he was too busy working up a burp that echoed through the kitchen. He didn’t make much of any noise or any cries or pleas—he still had to keep up that stoic older brother charade so Sam couldn’t hold this over him later—but Sam knew Dean well enough to know when he needed a belly rub.

Sam moved the robe out of the way and pushed it to fall at Dean’s sides as he was sitting, like parting the curtains to let the scenery in. His brother’s midsection had never looked so good, like a slightly hairy yet blank canvas for him to mold over with his hands. The smooth, round gut pooled in Dean’s lap and was easy to roam around.

Sam worked his hands over Dean’s stomach, some areas of it being soft and almost plushy, being able to sink up to his wrist into his brother’s bloated stomach. But other areas were still hard and pointy like he was pressing into the knee or elbow or even skull of the prey inside, and if he pushed really hard, he could hear a bone or two crack under the pressure. It elicited more burps from Dean and helped his grumbling stomach process the meat and greens broiling inside to create something that probably looked worse than Sam’s crap-shakes.

So, Sam kept Dean on that kitchen stool until he finished helping mash up the remaining bits of his huge meal and for his stomach to process the good things Dean should have been eating all along.

Dean hated how caring Sam could be.

33 notes · View notes

lokisprettygirl · 2 years ago

Text

Close Ties (Daemon Targaryen x Female Reader) (Modern AU) (Non canon) (18+)

Read Chapter 10 // Series Masterlist

Chapter 11

Summary : Your relationship with Daemon grows but how long will the secret remain a secret?

Warning: 18+, smut, dad's best friend trope, canon (we don't know her..don't like don't read), feeling of hopelessness, uncle Daemon kink (you don't have to squint), familial uncle niece sort of relationship but he's not really her uncle, there will be more smut later, significant age gap but reader is in her mid twenties, mention of infidelity, divorce, smoking and alcohol drinking, physical violence implied

“Okay this one or this one?” You asked Rhaenyra, she was currently lounging on your bed as you had invited her to your dad's barbecue eve.

You really wanted to look hot tonight because first of all you wanted to rile up Daemon so he'd at least put you aside to spank you for your insolent behaviour, it's been two weeks now and as much as you enjoyed and respected his gentlemanly approach to dating you also needed him close and physical not just in sexual ways but you craved his touch, he had such warm big hands and you needed them to be all over yourself.

The other reason was that your actual uncle and his family had been here for more than a week now and last night at the dinner table you saw Trisha, the older cousin, giggling at everything he said and giving him eyes.

Okay Daemon was hot, he was an incredibly attractive man. But what frustrated you was the fact that your friends and cousins all seemed to be drawn to him as well.

“That red dress is beautiful but damn that black one is going to look super sexy on you”

Rhaenyra said to you with a warm smile so you looked at both the dresses again, the black one was indeed sexy, it was a basic but elegant thin strapped fit and flare sort of dress.

She wasn't like Cassandra at all, she wasn't self obsessed to the point where she didn't care about anyone else. Luckily since the Japan trip you hadn't heard from Cassandra but via your stalking skills you found out that she has been talking shit about you to your mutual friends, however that didn't really matter to you for now.

“Black it is then” you mumbled as you walked towards the dresser to put your makeup on.

“You know red is uncle Daemon's favorite color?” she smirked as she said that and you began to blend your foundation even more aggressively.

“Soooo?” You asked her in a nonchalant manner as you tried to keep your voice casual to not give away your feelings for your sweet sweet uncle.

“Just saying..you know”

“Rhae I don't have a crush on him still..i'm a grown up now”

Big lie but also not exactly a complete lie because you were way past the point where you just had a crush on him.

“Mm hmm so you don't want him to marry you now?” her voice had a teasing tone as she spoke,

“Shut up..it's not funny” you turned around to look at her before you pretended to shake your head in disbelief and went back to fiddling with your beauty blender.

“I feel bad for him at times” she sighed as she spoke again,

“Ummm why?”

“You know…Stella n all, I'm glad he's back home but he's just so lonely..it hurts to look at him sometimes” her voice turned serious and the look on your face changed as well. He wasn't lonely anymore, you won't make him feel that way.

“He will find someone I'm sure, he's a good man” she noticed how zoned out you seemed as you said that as if you were lost in his thoughts “One of the best..the best” you mumbled in your mouth and it made her smile.

“Mhmmm he deserves a good woman”

You and Rhaenyra made your way downstairs and towards the room where your father had set up an indoor barbecue for the winter. As soon as you entered the room, your eyes scanned the area for Daemon. You spotted him by the grill, laughing and chatting with your dad, and it brought back memories of the old days. It was clear that they were getting along well now and the old bond they shared had resurfaced, and it made you feel hopeful that this truce would last longer this time and maybe forever.

However, you couldn't shake the feeling of uncertainty, wondering if this time would be different or if it would all fall apart again considering there was this forbidden relationship flourishing between you two now.

As Daemon looked at you, his eyes nearly gave away his feelings for you, the dress fitted you perfectly and his mind filled with the images of you in several obscene positions with the dress still on your body and then on the floor.

He quietly excused himself and walked towards you to greet you but most of all Rhaneyra because he didn't really get to see her much because of his busy schedule.

“Pixie” he said so you nodded,

“Uncle”

You both started at each other and Rhaneyra cleared her throat so he smiled and pulled her closer for a hug.

“Princess…you owe me a conversation” he kissed her forehead as he said that, hus voice sounded low and serious. You watched her go pale as a ghost as she realized what he wanted to discuss. You probably should have given her a heads up that he knew about Harwin.

“Sure uncle..uhhh I'll go get…get a drink” she excused herself and hurried out of there before he could say anything else.

“Remember to not go all Dadd on her, she really looks up to you” you told him so he chuckled in response.

“You think you're old enough to give me such advice?” He asked you, there was a smug smile on his face but his voice sounded as if he was offended by the very notion of you giving him an advice.

“Mmmm no?” you mumbled meekly, making him sigh in response.

“Never let a man talk to you like that Pixie, especially not me”

That habit of him teaching you to stick up for yourself was creeping in your personal life, while at work he'd often put you in situations where men would try to dominate your viewpoints and make you crumble in front of them and he'd teach you how to deal with them without coming across as too emotional or overworked.

It was as if he was preparing for you to take over the business but you weren't really sure if you wanted that but you did feel grateful for his guidance . You never had much confidence in yourself, you could have gone your whole life without it because you were served everything without asking and you never had to impress anyone before.

“Well that goes for other men but I'll let you do anything to me..uncle”

You smiled a little as the little flirtatious tone you held turned him on immediately,

“Anything Sweet Pixie?” he challenged you equally,

“Things you won't dream of doing to any other woman”

“Bloody hell pixie ..you can't speak to me like that in public” he lowered his voice even though there was no one around you two.

For a moment you thought he was upset because he cursed and his jaw clenched in anger but he wasn't upset, he was just hard and truly uncomfortable.

“Hey don't talk to me like that”

You pretended to be upset by his comment and walked away, your heart racing as you made your way towards your parents, trying to act nonchalant. Daemon watched you go, his smile curving as he realized it would be challenging to find alone time with you in your parents' house.

You couldn't keep your eyes off him, he had a black t-shirt on that snuggled against his thick body, hair was a curly mess and he smelled divine like always.

“This dress isn't appropriate for a barbecue don't you think?”

Your aunt Polly said to you right in front of your parents while her own daughters were in tank tops and shorts.

“It's fine, it's just a dress” your dad chimed in so you hugged him before you pressed a kiss on his cheek, you were always thankful to your parents for never putting you down in front of others.

Speaking of the cousins, you saw Trisha striking a conversation with Daemon and it made you jealous so you took your phone out and texted him.

He put his phone inside his pocket after that, he was turned on and he was definitely thinking about you in obscene positions underneath him, he had been trying to take this thing as slow as possible but it wasn't easy, especially because you loved to rile him up at the most inopportune times.

As you all sat down to eat, you chose the seat in front of him on purpose. Throughout the dinner, he watched you lean forward on purpose so he could have the perfect view of your cleavage, then you took your sweet time sucking on the dessert spoon.

To be fair he didn't really think you had it in you and it wouldn't really have mattered to him if you were pure vanilla in the bedroom, he'd have wanted you just the same. Since he came back he found himself digging a deeper hole for himself, the more he got to know you, the more it made sense, despite the age difference and the familial relationship he shared with you he felt so connected to you on a deeper level that went beyond just physical attraction.

He did wonder how deeply you were into him though because at your age he was mindlessly hooking up with women until he found Stella, at times he had a fear that you were just infatuated by him and would get bored of him as soon as you'd realise that he wasn't an angel sent from heaven.

He snapped out of his thoughts as he felt your bare toes rubbing against his shin, eyes pierced into you as he glared at you but you just gave him a sly smile.

Rhaenyra wanted to make a phone call so you excused yourself as well and made your way upstairs, he looked around carefully and everyone seemed a bit tipsy, especially your parents so without saying anything he went upstairs as well and knocked on your door.

The moment you opened he walked towards you so you took a step behind as his strong stride intimidated you in all the good ways. He then slammed the door shut, pulled you closer to him and then flipped you around on your front to press you up against the door, only a gasp escaped your throat as you felt the heat of his body and his lips on your neck.

“Daemon” you moaned his name as his hands wandered under your dress and fingers looped around the waistband of the underwear,

“Not going to call me uncle anymore hmm?”

No words came out of your throat as one of his hands cupped your mound, a part of you suddenly felt so shy and all the boldness you had showed him just now dissipated slowly.

He could feel the warmth radiating from your core, fingers rubbed over the drenched fabric and he pressed his thumb over your clothed clit.

You pressed your hips against his bulge and he groaned in response

“That's what you wanted hmm?” he whispered in your ear, his voice was low and tone husky,

“Mmm did I upset you uncle?” Your head lulled backwards on his shoulder and as the sensation grew with every flick of his thumb only the constant whisper of his name spilled out.

“Wouldn't treat you so sweet if I was upset”

“Daemon pleasseee”

“Keep whining babygirl ..love the sound of that”

“Am i your good girl still?” You asked him softly and it made him smile, even amidst the throes of pleasure you wanted to be his good girl.

“You're my best girl sweetheart”

“Mmmm are you sure..we have been dating for like two weeks”

“And it has been good two weeks love..don't ever doubt how much I care about you, you can be an insufferable brat as long as you're being that way solely for me”

You suddenly turned around and your arms flung around him as you kissed him passionately, your hips rolled back and forth over his palm. If he wasn't holding you so tightly with his other arm your knees would have given out.

Your hands trailed down and as you cupped his bulge he pressed you against the door again with your arms next to your head where he held them in place while his other hand continued to fondle your soaked cunt,

“You won't let me please you?” you asked him with heavy breaths,

“Oh you're going to please me. Don't fret darling, I'll take the double of what I'm giving you”

Godd now you understood Cassandra's obsession with him, sure you had been touched this way but you had never been pleased with words like this before and his touch was like no other, in that moment you knew no man would be able to please you the way he would,

"Look at you.. so dripping wet and for whom hmm? Your own fucking uncle"

Damn he really enjoyed the uncle-niece play.

“Go on..cum for me darling, soak my fingers my sweet little niece”

Your body convulsed almost instantly as he whispered filthy words in your ear. He couldn't keep his eyes off you, fingers continued to rub over the soaked fabric as you rode your high.

Beautiful was the only word that came to his mind at that moment, you looked so beautiful to him.

As you finally opened your eyes he pulled his hand out from under your dress and grabbed you by the waist as he kissed you deeply and ever so lovingly. This is what you needed, you were getting addicted to the way he touched you and how he seemed to be so into you, you had never had that from a guy before, never had a man's whole attention on you because their eyes always wandered and they seemed to only like you because of your father.

“You alright Pixie pie?” he asked you as pleased his index finger under your chin and made you look at him, your face was warm and flushed and he knew he'd have to relieve himself in the privacy of his bedroom later, you had given him enough to work his imagination with.

“Mmmm has anyone ever told you how good you are at this stuff?” you asked him so he chuckled

“Mmhmmm.. but would love to hear it from you, keep my ego intact if you will” you chuckled as he said that.

“You ruined my underwear” you mumbled against his mouth

“There's a lot more I want to ruin then just your clothes darling”

After changing into fresh underwear, you made your way downstairs ahead of Daemon to avoid appearing suspicious. As you entered the room, you noticed that Rhaenyra had returned as well and she was wearing an amused expression. Your father had turned on the projector and was playing an old video from a trip to Morocco.

You remembered the trip, you were thirteen, that's where Daemon had proposed Stella, your uncle and his family was also on the trip, you looked so little in those pictures and Daemon still looked the same, just younger, he had Stella hanging on his arm in every picture but there was one picture of just you and Daemon taken in front of a monument.

Daemon stepped downstairs soon after and as soon as he saw the old pictures his whole demeanor changed.

“I should put something else on” your dad mumbled under his breath as he seemed to realize that it must have been difficult for Daemon to watch himself looking so happy in the photos with Stella. As you looked at him he averted his gaze, you noticed that he didn't seem to be doing fine.

“I never understood why he was so sure about Stella, he has always been a sensible guy and it never made sense” Rhaenyra said to you, her voice held a tinge of frustration,

“Mmmm people can be deceiving .. sometimes they pretend to be something they're not and we are only able to figure them out with time”

“Makes sense”

“That reminds me..he knows about you and Harwin”

“I figured” she chuckled nervously,

“He'll keep your secret don't worry"

“Yeah I just don't want him to judge Harwin”

“Even if he does initially once they get to know each other he'll understand..like you said he is a sensible man”

You put your arm around her so she smiled and hugged you. As the night grew, everyone got more and more drunk and then people started to leave for bed. Rhaenyra wanted to go home so Daemon decided to drive her himself since he didn't have a drink all night.

You knew he'd have the conversation with her on the way, he also seemed a bit sullen, you understood really well Stella bothered him still but you didn't like seeing him that way. After showering and changing late at night you decided to go see Daemon to make sure he was fine, you wanted to knock on the door but standing outside his room for so long didn't seem like the smartest thing to do so you turned the knob and the door wasn't locked so you entered in and he was already in the bed,

“Daemon ?” You called out his name as you closed the door but you didn't lock it.

“I'm up pixie” he propped himself on his elbows as he looked at you, he seemed tired. He had a white loose t-shirt with a pair of sweatpants.

You crawled on the bed and he tilted his head to watch your movement, the lace night dress you had on was tantalizing, you shouldn't be in his bed looking like that.

“How was the talk with your niece?” You asked him so he tilted his head backwards as he sighed,

“It was alright, I'll meet him soon”

“Good.. and how's your mood?”

“Alright ..why” he smiled a little as he noticed the concern in your voice.

“You just seemed sad after those pictures –Dad can be a bit dense at times”

He chuckled as you said that.

��You think I'm sullen because of Stella?”

“You are not?”

“No it wasn't her that bothered me”

You looked at him confused so he sighed before he laid down on his back with a thud,

“It was you..us..our photo together and you were just a child back then”

You crawled up on him as he said that, his voice sounded meak and defeated. When you saw those pictures you saw yourself with your uncle/ man you had a stupid unrequited crush on but when he looked in the past he saw a little girl he had treated like his own child, all of this just seemed fucked up to him at times.

“It's weird, when I'm with you, i don't think about that little girl..it's like she was just a child I used to know and care for” he cupped your cheeks for a moment before his fingers brushed through your hair "But you..are different, not the girl i remembered or looked forward to meet when I had planned to return” he mumbled so you placed your hands on his shoulders and made him sit back up,

“I am different, i have grown and changed”

“Mhhm but eventually I'll have to acknowledge that you're the same precious girl I called my niece once but wish to have in my bed now” he said to you so you nodded before you grabbed his hands and placed it on your chest, his breathed hitched as he cupped your bosom, they fit perfectly in his hands.

“You are all good daemon i promise” you leaned in to kiss him softly “Like i said I'm all grown up now” he kissed you back as you murmured against his mouth “I know you want me now..you want this" you moaned as he gave them a squeeze, your body felt so soft and natural to him unlike Stella or Cassandra "I know your intentions, i always did, even when mine were not so innocent for you i know yours were absolutely pure when I was a child”

“When did you get so wise?” He smiled as he laid down with you on top of him, he kissed your forehead and then your lips.

“Cuddle with me please” you mumbled against his mouth and his brows furrowed, as much as he wanted to have you sleep in his bed, it was a risk he wasn't willing to take just yet, your relationship had just began with him and getting caught by someone was not in his agenda especially considering your relatives were here too at the moment..

“i can't Pixie pie..we can get caught”

“I'll set an alarm..pleaseee” you mumbled as you snuggled against him, every inch of your skin felt tingly as your body pressed into him, he felt so thick and cushiony, you wanted to stay in his arms forever.

“Let me make you feel better you sad sad boy” he chuckled as you said that,

“Well I do enjoy the thought of you warming my bed in more ways than one”

“Naughty”

“Says the girl who has been in love with me since she was twelve” you gasped as you looked at him.

You weren't in love with him, well that was a lie, you were completely and hopelessly in love with him but you weren't going to admit that so soon

But before you could snap back in response you both heard the sound of his door knob twisting.

You had left the door unlocked.

👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

Taglist

@serving-targaryen-realness @annoyingsweetsstranger @anukulee @mcufan72 @insertsomethingsillyhereple-blog @silentf @ajthefujoshi @stupidthoughtsinwriting @ammo23 @shuichiakainx @daddylokisqueen @ipostwhtifeel @anehkael @madlyinlovewmattmurd0ck @dixie-elocin

#daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x female reader #daemon targaryen x reader smut #daemon targaryen x reader angst #daemon targaryen x reader fluff #non canon au #modern daemon targaryen #age gap relationship

158 notes · View notes